#NO ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LIVE IN A HELLISH WORLD OF MY OWN MAKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[chikaoofka]

got POSSESSED i tell you POSSESSED. anyway i'm so normal cant fathom why one wouldn't believe me

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟕]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. thank you all for waiting during my hiatus <3 turnfire is back, probably a bit sporadic for updates! still, i hope you'll join me in seeing the story through until the end! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗦

In the week that you’re apart, Kinich dreams of you five times.

It’s a welcome respite from the constant nightmares he’d been experiencing. They’d grown more frequent since your injury, lying in wait in the dead of night. He’d found himself trapped by them, thrown to a hellish dreamscape that saw you meeting your end over and over again. It always ended with the sight of your body, bloody and broken.

And he was always too weak to save you.

But since the contract, Kinich finds new power thrumming through his veins. He’d thought he was strong before, but this is different. He wonders if this is how it must feel to hold a Vision, to be one of the Archon’s chosen. Being afforded a power like that means protection and stability, however steep the price may be. And sure, his body is a high price.

But when he remembers your screams of pain and the tears running rivers down your cheeks, he really can’t bring himself to regret this deal at all.

Still, Ajaw’s power brings its own share of consequences, like actually dealing with Ajaw. Truthfully, he’s reluctant to let the Dragonlord anywhere near you—he tends to run his mouth, and he doesn’t want him saying anything unnecessary in your presence. 

He isn’t a great companion, not like you—he gets on Kinich’s nerves, both intentionally and unintentionally. But there is something to be gained from a power as great as his, a power that even Kinich is forced to recognize.

The first dream is nothing special. There’s no rhyme or reason to it; he dreams of running through the meadow with you, flower petals bursting and floating through the air. His next dream is similar, though this time it’s in the forest, river rushing alongside you. He dreams of the late nights you spend talking, of the dinners you’ve shared over candlelight, of your whispers under the stars. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s you. 

It’s always, always you.

So, if sacrifice must be had, let it be his. 

Ajaw seems to realize it too, the weight of the bond they have forged. Ecstatic as he is to take Kinich’s body as his own, he knows that most people wouldn’t make such a deal so easily. He tries to question it a few times, wondering who this “special mortal” could be, wondering why Kinich would need his “awesome powers” to protect them. Kinich doesn’t care to answer—no one needs to know how he feels about you except you.

And, by the time he makes it back to your shared home, he’ll make sure that you know too.

He has the man in the ruins to thank for that oath. After he’d escaped the darkness, he’d made a small grave for the others who had embarked on that journey with him. He hadn’t had much onhand, but he tried—a small pile of stones, stacked precariously until they were about his height. Though he hadn’t known the other men well, he feels a sort of duty to their memory. After all, he had fought by their side, and no one deserves to die alone.

And now, he has the means to protect you, and to make sure that you never have to cry again.

On the seventh day, Kinich raises his head to the sky, one hand shielding his eyes as he gauges the position of the sun. If he starts the journey now, he could be by your side again by nightfall. Something flutters in his chest at the thought of seeing you, and part of him feels like he really can’t wait any longer.

“Ajaw,” he calls. The dragon is resting nearby, picking berries off of plants and scarfing them down. “We’re going home.”

He walks, and doesn’t wait to see if the dragon is following him. He’ll be able to tell based on the complaints that Ajaw is constantly spewing—he’d learned quickly how to phase them out of his mind.

“Your house?” Ajaw moans, still smeared with the juice of a Quenapa Berry. “What is it, a pathetic cave on the side of the mountain? Or maybe a cardboard box on the side of the road?”

Kinich rolls his eyes. “It’s a real house, and you’ll be lucky if I even let you inside. Now pick up the pace.”

The wind is good today, he notes, ideal for grappling. Ajaw scoffs, reluctantly following alongside his partner. 

“What are you in such a rush for anyway? Mortals get excited over the smallest things.”

Your smiling face flashes in Kinich’s mind. He sighs.

“Just feeling a bit homesick.”

/

“I’m home.”

Kinich’s voice floats languidly through your quiet house, comforting familiarity seeping into his bones. Something delicious is cooking—the smell of rich meat and spices wafts through the air.

On the table, there’s a loaf of fresh bread, a single slice spread with your favorite jam. Fresh fruit overflows from the basket on the counter, shiny skin promising ripeness. One of his old shirts is draped over the arm of the couch, sewing needle and thread strewn across the fabric. You’d kept busy while he was gone, evidently.

Somehow, simple as it is, the sight of your home at peace is almost overwhelming. After days spent in the dark humidity of the ruins, he suddenly feels like he can finally relax, if only for a moment. He lets the bag drop from his shoulder, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

There’s no response, but Kinich can see your shoes by the door and the faint sound of splashing water—most likely, you’re in the bath. Still, Ajaw fixes him with a look of disbelief. 

“Did you seriously make up an entire girl just to convince me you don’t live alone in the mountains? That’s pathetic, even for you.”

Kinich fights the urge to stomp the small dragon into the ground, opting to start organizing his things instead. Kneeling down, he unzips his bag, starting to pull out various trinkets and pouches of Mora.

“She is real, she’s just in the bath. Try not to be so annoying when she comes out, or I’ll punch you out.”

Ajaw turns red in irritation. “Just try it, servant! And you’ll see just what it means to be a Dragonlord—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

He perks up immediately at the chime of your voice, excitement palpable in your words. There’s a scuffle behind the door—you’re rushing to change and greet him, he thinks, face warm. Even Ajaw seems to notice his change in demeanor, based on his mocking chuckle.

“Oh, how sweet. Your little girlfriend has been waiting for you.”

Kinich doesn’t even have time to retort, because the bathroom door flies open and you come bursting forth, wide grin splitting across your face. You clear the room in only a few steps—Kinich’s eyes widen at the sheer speed—and then you’re collapsing into his arms with all the force of a raging bull. 

He catches you anyway, heart nearly pounding out of his chest at the proximity, at the still-damp heat of your skin, at the way your arms wrap around him so tightly.

Spring blooms around him as he holds you closer.

“I missed you,” you admit quietly. Your breath is warm against his neck, but the feeling is pleasant all the same.

“I missed you too.”

After a moment, he holds you at arms-length, gauging the state of you. Your bandages are a clean, pristine white, and there’s less of them than when he left—your wound must have healed considerably.

Noticing his gaze, you smile, stretching your arms wide.

“I’m a lot better now,” you assure him. “We can start going on jobs together again soon!”

It’s a true relief to see you healthy and happy again. Though the guilt will likely never leave him, he wants to burden you as little as possible. 

“That’s good,” he replies, thumbing over your cheek. His breath hitches when you lean happily into his touch. “I’ll look for some good commissions next time I go to the outpost.”

Silently, he notes that the two of you will have to take some simpler ones first, at least while you’re still healing completely. And maybe for the time being, while he gets used to Ajaw’s power—he can’t risk hurting you again.

Someone clears their throat obnoxiously, and Kinich finally remembers that he hadn’t returned home alone.

Brows furrowed, you peek over Kinich’s shoulder to see the small, pixelated dragon floating there. He has an impatient expression on his face, like he can’t stand the lack of attention. 

“Kin,” you whisper, “I think something followed you home.”

“I am not something,” Ajaw roars, “I am the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw, the bearer of power that strikes fear into nations and gods, the pinnacle of strength and—”

“I found him in a cave,” Kinich interrupts dryly. “And now he won’t stop talking.”

Despite the bold introduction, you don’t seem intimidated by Ajaw at all—you’re peering over him curiously, poking at his tail and flicking at his feet. He growls in reply, already full of protest.

“It’s…floating,” you observe, in awe.

“It? You dare refer to the Almighty Dragonlord as an it? I oughta burn you to ash right here!”

Kinich shoves Ajaw aside, a sour expression on his face. Admittedly, he’s irritated at your reunion being interrupted.

“Try anything against her and see what happens.”

Ajaw grumbles some curses, but neither of you pay him any mind—you’re too overjoyed that Kinich is home, and Kinich is just happy to be in your presence.

“I made some stew for dinner,” you announce, practically skipping over to the stove. There’s a pot already boiling there—that must’ve been what he smelled earlier. “Your favorite. Ajaw—sorry, Almighty Dragonlord can eat too if he wants.”

When you bring it over to the table, beckoning him over, Ajaw huffs at his side. 

“If she’s inviting me to dine, maybe she isn’t so bad after all,” he comments haughtily, and Kinich resists the urge to roll his eyes. Leave it to Ajaw to change his opinion of you on a dime. Instead of arguing with the impossible dragon, he moves to clean up the rest of his things.

Ajaw pounces on the bread right away, tearing it to crumbs. It doesn’t seem to bother you, based on the way you calmly hum as you stir the stew. Really, it doesn’t seem like anything could ruin your mood at this point, and that thought makes Kinich smile in turn.

“If you’re planning on keeping him like a pet,” you say as you place three bowls of stew on the table, eyes flicking between him and Ajaw, “something tells me he won’t be able to learn many tricks.”

Luckily for you both, Ajaw is too busy scarfing down his food to hear. Kinich shakes his head, a half-smile on his lips.

“Not likely. We made a contract, actually.”

Your head tilts in curiosity as you take your seat. “Really? What kind?”

It’s not uncommon for Kinich to make deals—it’s what he’s good at, and he’s even better at following through. So it comes as no surprise to you that it would be the nature of his relationship with Ajaw. Still, you don’t expect him to continue:

“My body, for his power.”

A sharp gasp slips between your lips. 

When he turns to face you, your smile falters at the edges, a withering bloom.

“You…what?”

“It was a fair trade,” he explains calmly, checking his grappling hook. There’s a chip in the metal, he notes grimly, evidence of its overuse. “In exchange for my body after death, I get to—”

The clattering sound of your chair tipping to the floor has Kinich flinching, one hand outstretched instinctually toward you. When he looks up, your expression is like shattered glass—you’re clutching your stomach like someone’s just punched you.

“In exchange? For you?” Your words thin at the end, dying halfway up your throat. The sound makes Kinich’s heart twist. “Are you joking?”

It’s as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Though he’d expected your surprise, he hadn’t expected the despair, the anger that burns in your irises.

“I promise you, it was fair,” Kinich reiterates. “As annoying as he is, Ajaw does have a lot of useful power.”

“But he’s taking your body,” you say. Each word comes out almost robotically. “That’s supposed to be fair?”

Hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. You shrink away, directly onto your fallen chair—you stumble and fall, a pained expression painting your features. Even as quick as he is to rush to your side, Kinich can’t help but curse himself internally.

Somehow, no matter what he does, he hurts you every time.

You recover quickly, climbing to your feet, and Ajaw merely watches, uncharacteristically silent. Kinich doesn’t really care what he thinks anyway—he’s far more focused on the glassy tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s only once I die,” he assures you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flinch at the feeling, eyes wide. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll be stronger.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need that thing’s power, Kin. Give it back, we’ll be fine.”

From his place at the table, Ajaw sneers. 

“How ungrateful! You have no idea how many humans would scramble and die for the chance to use a sliver of my—”

“Ajaw,” Kinich breathes, a warning, stare never leaving yours. “Get out.”

Ajaw huffs. “Do you even hear her? She’s being totally unreasonable—”

“Ajaw.” Kinich grits his teeth until it’s practically audible, tone laced with frost. “Get. Out.”

The tension is so razor-sharp that even the Almighty Dragonlord slinks out the door, though he grumbles as he goes. You don’t seem to care either way, instead scrubbing at the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Silence falls, a blanket of ice over the warmth of your home.

He hates it. He hates the way it reminds him of his parents, of the countless fights that occurred here, and he hates the broken sheen in your eyes when you look at him. It’s a far cry from your previous brightness.

“Please, Kin,” you plead, a near-whisper, “please, please give his power back to him.”

You grasp at his arms, tracing the tattoos etched into the skin there, like you’re trying to remind yourself that he’s still here. Small cuts litter his skin, evidence of the journey he’d endured before returning to you, and your frown deepens.

“I can’t,” he replies. “The contract is done.”

His words sink deep into your mind, a stone in water, the weight of what he’s done slowly dawning on you. He can see it in your eyes—the fear that takes root. The fear that one day, he’ll no longer be by your side.

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, moving toward the couch. Kinich follows.

“You have to understand,” he starts, almost begging, even as you walk away, “I only wanted to be stronger for you. I don’t want you to get hurt again—”

When you whirl on him, your eyes are burning.

“So it’s because of me? Because I got hurt?”

And really, it was, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t because of you, or any sort of perceived weakness of yours. If anything, Kinich thinks, it was his own that brought him this far—his own selfish desires for you.

“It’s not like that,” he murmurs, reaching for you. His heart pangs when you flinch away from his touch—you’ve never done that before in his life. “I’m stronger now. I can protect you now—”

“I never wanted you to protect me, Kinich!”

The pure volume of your voice seems to shake the walls of the house, and Kinich feels like it’s all crumbling down around him. He’s never seen you like this—nearly quivering with anger and disappointment, tears running endlessly down your cheeks. 

You can’t seem to decide where to look, but your gaze lands on his all the same. He almost wishes it didn’t—he can’t take the sorrow in your eyes.

“I’ve been learning on my own. I want to fight with you. I don’t want you to protect me, or hide me away, or sacrifice anything more for me. I just wanted to be with you!”

“We can still be together, it’s just—”

You gesture wildly outside, to where Ajaw is presumably waiting.

“Just that your life is tied to this…this thing now, and now not even your own body belongs to you. Do you realize how insane that is, Kin?”

And he wants to tell you that it’s not about Ajaw at all, it’s about you. It’s the fact that he’s always belonged to you, he wants to belong to you, and being strong is the only way he knows how to do that. He thinks of his mother, of the price of her smile—he would pay any price to see yours.

He wants to tell you that he’d thought of you every day he was away, perhaps every moment. He wants to tell you what he promised himself back in the ruins.

But he can’t seem to move an inch. He should say something, he knows. Comfort you in some way. All he can do is watch as you collapse onto the couch, old and fraying, stare fixed blankly to the wall.

And when he remembers the sight of your blood seeping through your shirt, he still can’t bring himself to regret this.

You hold your face in your hands. “We…we were happy, Kinich. Wasn’t that enough?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You don’t answer.

And, as always, Kinich drowns in the realization that he’d hurt you again. His father’s voice echoes in his mind.

It’s your fucking fault. This is all your fault.

The deal had been fair, at least to him, and he was rarely wrong in these things. He’d gained a power to protect you. With this newfound strength, you’d have no reason to worry again. 

So why did it feel like everything was falling apart?

He’s never been good at these things—at feelings, at vocalizing them—but all he’s ever wanted was to be what you needed. But someone like him isn’t worthy of your light.

He really, really wants to be.

Kinich slinks to your side, careful as he kneels before you. Your head is still hung, tears dripping into your lap. He tries not to let the sorrow on your face deter him, at least for now—you deserve to hear what he’s been thinking all along.

Even if it’s too little, too late, he has to tell you.

His fingertips brush against your knee first, apologetic. For now, you don’t push him away. He finds comfort in that, somehow. Even when everything the two of you have built until now lies on the precipice, the mere sensation of your warmth is enough to calm him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first,” he whispers, letting his hand drift toward yours.

You don’t reply, which makes Kinich think that you’re simply waiting to hear what he has to say. A deep breath fills his lungs, slow, the buildup of everything he’s longed to communicate all these years. 

Outside, the sun is falling to rest, leaving shards of fading golden light in its wake. Kinich watches its luminescence slip over your face, slow and winding. 

“I thought you were going to die back then. And it would’ve been all my fault.”

Even suggesting the possibility has something in his chest writhing and twisting, a chill settling in his bones. He’s lost too much until now, and he’s always told himself he could move past it. And yet, he doesn’t think he could ever stomach losing you.

“I couldn’t let that happen again,” he finishes quietly.

He can practically hear the gears turning in your head as you absorb his words. But your hand doesn’t leave his, and he holds steadfast to that feeling.

A sigh escapes your lips. 

“And I can’t let Ajaw have you, even after death. I told you I would always be by your side, Kin, and I wish you would trust me to do that on my own.”

His eyes widen, and he’s about to reply when—

A knock echoes at your front door.

You sniffle once, then twice, gathering yourself. Kinich moves to stop you—he’s sure it’s just Ajaw getting impatient during his timeout.

“It’s not Ajaw,” you assert, practically reading his mind. “It’s the couriers.”

The couriers? They don’t come here often—that fact hasn’t changed since his parents lived in his house. A seed of unease plants itself in his stomach. 

“They’ve been looking for you,” you sigh. Before you can take another step, his fingers wrap tight around your wrist, rooting you in place.

“Why? What do they want with me?”

The look in your eyes is far away, falling upon the lukewarm stew on the table. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, all of it. Instead, your lip quivers as you admit:

“The Wayob called for you. You’ve inherited an Ancient Name.”

And, despite all his efforts, Kinich feels the distance between you growing wider and wider.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi can I make a request of a love letters from Castlevania Yandere Vlad, Dracula tepes x gender, neutral, reader and Yandere Trevor Belmont x gender, neutral, reader and yandere Alecurd x gender, neutral, reader and I almost forgot can you make l sure that reader is human? Thank you 🙏❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dear (Y/N),

In the endless and dark nights, where the moon reflects its light upon us, my heart, once frozen by time, finds warmth in the radiant and ephemeral presence that you are. It's as if destiny, in its mischief, brought us together, even knowing the barriers that the world imposes between us.

I am a being of the night, one who lives in the shadows and finds his shelter in the darkness. You are the light that permeates my existence, the reason why my eyes long for the sunrise.

My immortal being is enveloped by eternal loneliness, but in you, I find the promise of something deeper. A love that defies ages, that transcends the barriers between our divergent worlds.

I beg you to accept this heart immersed in darkness, ready to beat to the rhythm of your light. Allow me to be your guardian, your companion on this uncertain journey.

With eternal love,

Vlad.

My love,

I write this letter in the hope that it will find its way to you, just as my soul always finds yours, despite the darkness that surrounds us. Amid the endless battles against the creatures of the night, it is you who illuminates my heart.

Each night, when the cloak of darkness spreads over us, it is your image that guides me, bringing light to my dark days. Your smile is more radiant than the sun that never dared to touch our home.

As I lift my cross against the children of darkness, your love is my strongest protection, an impenetrable shield against the claws of evil. I feel fortunate to share my journey with you, a beacon of humanity in a world steeped in darkness.

Accept these words as an oath, an eternal commitment to protect and love you in the midst of the darkness. For as long as there is a breath of life in my being, your love will be my anchor in this hellish world.

All my love,

Trevor Belmont.

My sweet love,

I write these words with a heart full of emotions that I can barely contain. From the moment our paths crossed, my life changed in ways I could never have imagined. You brought light to the darkest corners of my existence, dispelling the darkness that consumed me for so long.

It is true that I am a being of the night, a dhampir whose destiny is marked by a nature that many consider threatening. Yet in your presence, I find a peace that goes beyond the barriers between our worlds. Your smile is the sun that illuminates my eternal darkness, and your understanding and acceptance make me feel human again.

I know the road before us is filled with challenges and obstacles that many do not understand. But together, I believe we can transcend the differences that separate us. I promise to protect you with all the strength I possess, even if it means fighting against my own being.

Every beat of my heart, although silent and dead, is a testimony to the deep love I have for you. Even if eternity separates us, know that your name will always be whispered in the most secret corners of my soul.

With all my love,

Alucard.

[anendtopursuit]

ok. so. viktor is my favourite character in arcane. i am also physically disabled and hate the Magical Miracle Eugenics Disability Cure trope with a fiery passion. naturally i have a lot of opinions about where his character is going, but for now, here's a relatively simple one:

internalised ableism has always been part of viktor's character. he describes himself as "a poor cripple from the undercity" (yes, quoting how other people speak about him, but still); he shies away from the spotlight even when jayce encourages him; as a child, he directly acknowledges his disability as the reason other children don't associate with him.

i watched a video essay recently ("how arcane writes men" by schnee) that identified viktor's tendency to just suck it up and push through his problems rather than dwelling on them as a stereotypically masculine trait, which he is written to both subvert and lean into. whilst i agree with that to some extent, i think for viktor specifically it's more of an insight into a very common mindset for disabled people to have; a lot of us do not want to be pitied, and understand that acknowledging our hardships will often unfortunately lead to being treated as attention seeking. he doesn't dwell on things because he can't, unless he wants to be looked down on more than he already is; he's already had to fight to even be acknowledged as more than somebody's assistant, or respected as a zaunite living and working in piltover. i can't imagine he's keen to show any further "weakness"; he only ever cries when he's alone. it makes sense that he'd want to save himself rather than relying on anybody else.

the dangerous thought process of "fixing" people with the hexcore begins with that desire to save himself. at first he's just trying to stop his illness from killing him, but then he progresses to carving runes into his leg, seemingly in the interest of fixing his limp - which works, albeit temporarily. he seems aware enough of the implications of what he's doing to be somewhat ashamed of it (or, at the very least, enough to hide it from jayce). i've seen a lot of (mostly able bodied) people interpret the scene of him running down the pier as victorious, but it always felt bittersweet and scary to me; the dark, painful fantasy of "fixing" the thing the world has always looked down on you for, and the unsettling knowledge that you were never supposed to exist that way. a man experiencing a moment of joy only when he has detached himself from a core aspect of his being; self hatred disguised as progress. he only seems to register the horror of what he's doing when it kills sky.

it's not a leap to say that, with the hexcore dulling his emotions and blurring the lines of his ethical code, he would turn this externally. self loathing so insidious that he mistakes it for kindness and mercy and points the blade of it at the people he swore he'd help. before merging with the hexcore, he was desperate to destroy it and rid himself of its influence, hindered only by his physical inability to do so; under its control, he's seemingly lost all those inhibitions, wiped clean of his understanding of its danger. no longer "clouded by emotion", no longer human enough to know better, no longer suspicious of the arcane.

what viktor becomes in season 2 is, i believe, a hellish mix of his own internalised ableism and the hexcore's desperation to spread and survive. his genuine desire to help people has been warped into stripping people of their individualism, forcing them into some predetermined ideal in the name of healing (very "the empty child" from doctor who). it's his own character flaws mixed with the inhuman apathy of the hexcore. the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and also dressed up so nicely that you don't even realise you're headed downwards.

this is not what viktor stood for, but rather a perversion of his own insecurities, with a fresh coat of hexcore paint to stop him (or his followers) from scrutinising it too closely. they took the guy who dedicated his life to bettering humanity, and warped him into something doomed to destroy it.

(or something like that. idk. i haven't slept.)

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 14: Collaring

Summary: Alastor had carved out a nice little undead life for himself.  Drawn by the intoxicating allure of power and freedom from the mundane, he had willingly sold his soul to you, believing it would grant him unimaginable strength. And that comes back to bite him, like you always do. Warnings: Collaring, pet names, dom-sub dynamics, slight dub-con implications, use of magic as restraints, etc. MDNI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @tarokitsu

It was true, Alastor had carved a nice undead life for himself. Once a mere mortal with dreams of violent grandeur, he had stumbled face first into the fiery pits of Hell. Damn his way of death but then again so was life, or so the joke went. Roaming around aimlessly with no where to go, his undead life was truly in the hands of fate. The source of his power a mystery to all but you, the powerful overlord of chaos. Drawn by the intoxicating allure of power and freedom from the mundane, he had willingly sold his soul to you, believing it would grant him unimaginable strength. It did, for the most part. Years had passed since Alastor’s hand had wrapped in your glowing red ones, and he thrived in the chaotic realm, his reputation growing. He reveled in mischief, manipulating the very fabric of Hell, yet the memory of his pact lingered in the back of his mind like an unwelcome guest. You would often visit every couple months or so, caressing the edges of him mind with a gentle reminder of his pledges to you. 

Alastor, you will be an obidient and loyal servant till his undead live end and in return, I shall grant you power not even the King of Hell himself can comprehend. 

And so the years went on. Amid a chaotic feast of souls, Alastor was plotting his next broadcast without a care in the world. The dimming light of the Hellish day was coming to an end and so were the daily activities of the Radio Demon. A perfect time to stir the pot. Your form appeared in a swirling mass of shadows and light, eyes glinting like red supernovas in a void. Soon, Alastor’s evening revelry faded, and a palpable tension filled the air as you surveyed your domain.

“Alastor,” you called, voice a melody that both thrilled and haunted him. “It’s time to fulfill your end of our agreement.”

He straightened, a confident grin plastered on his face, masking the dread bubbling beneath. “Of course, my lady! I’ve been quite busy, you know. So many souls, so little time.”

Your gaze sharpened, and he felt the weight of your intent. “You think your tricks and games can postpone your payment? I need more than your fleeting soul capturing.” The atmosphere shifted as you advanced, a whirlwind of chaotic energy swirling around you. 

Alastor’s bravado faltered. “Payment? Surely, I’ve given enough in my service!”

In an instant, you summoned a red collar with a snap of your wrist, shimmering with dark energy. It coiled like a serpent in your grasp, a symbol of submission and power intertwined. You tsked softly, a small smirked coming to form maliciously on your features. “We play this game every time my dear. Every. Single. Time. Don’t you get bored of the disodience?”

Alastor’s heart raced. He had danced on the edge of fear and arousal, and was soon finding himself falling off the deep end of the latter. “Y/N, please—”

 “This is your due. A token of your servitude. You will wear it willingly, or I will make you.”

Before Alastor could finish a strangled plea, you moved with a speed that left him breathless, the collar snapping around his neck. The moment it closed, a surge of power coursed through him, forcing him to his knees. The chain linked to the collar glinted ominously, tethering him to you will. You admired the way he looked beneath you, so beligerant. He always was in the beginning but after years of this little game, you knew just how to make him keel. How to beg and plead to have any modicum of friction, how his eyes would tear up in ecasty as you made him find a demeanted form of heavenly release time after time. You revelved in that sight, in the luxury of seeing such a man as him bend and break under your will and cry for more. 

“Look at you,” you purred, the thrill of dominance evident in you voice. “You were so eager for power, yet now you kneel, bound by the very thing you sought to control.”

Alastor swallowed hard, a mix of attraction and acceptance swirling within him. He had gambled with his soul, and now he faced the oh-so delicious consequences. 

With that, you tugged the chain, pulling him closer. Alastor felt his pride start to wither away, yet he couldn’t ignore the strange thrill coursing through him. His ears laid flush against his head, clawed hands coming to grip the floorboards beneath him. He loved when you tugged on his chain, the pain shot through him in a sick sense of sadistic pleasure that never failed to make him hard. Craning your head down, eyes now level with his, you stood over him with a shit-eating grin and a imposing figure. 

“Now my pet, shall we play?” 

He couldn’t resist when your lips crashed onto his, sealing his eternal damnation to you and you alone. 

[cosmerelists]

Kaladin & Kelsier Argue About Which of Them is the Better Survivor

[SPOILERS: DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE NOT CAUGHT UP WITH BOOKS 1-4 OF STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE + MISTBORN ERA 1 + SECRET HISTORY!]

Both Kelsier and Kaladin are known as people who survive. Kelsier even had the nickname the Survivor. But which of them is actually better at surviving? Let's let them hash it out!

Kaladin: ...

Kaladin: I mean, I don't want to be that guy, but...I'm alive. You're dead. So, almost by definition, I'm the better survivor.

Kelsier: [waves a hand dismissively]

Kelsier: Oh please. Like simply "not dying" is more impressive than "dying but refusing to go to the beyond and instead clinging to life so voraciously that you stumble into a sort of immortality where you're still making your mark on the world of the living forever."

Kelsier: Plus I punched god in the face, so...

Kelsier: Score one for Kelsier.

Kaladin: "Simply not dying"?!

Kaladin: Undersell it much?

Kaladin: I have, repeatedly, been the only survivor among a group of people I was desperately trying to keep alive!

Kaladin: I just keep surviving! No matter what!

Kelsier: I survived the Pits of Hathsin!

Kelsier: That single feat was so impressive that I immediately earned the nickname "the Survivor" because NO ONE ever survived that hellish place!

Kelsier: What's your nickname again?

Kaladin: Stormblessed.

Kelsier: Hm. Not "the Survivor." Interesting.

Kaladin: Stormblessed because of how lucky people think I am to keep surviving when other people don't.

Kaladin: Like when I survived Bridge 4--including being repeatedly in the deathline--which is ALSO something no one thought you could survive.

Kaladin: Or that time I was strung up in a highstorm -- a form of execution -- and all of my men were saying goodbye but I told them to come outside after it was over and look up at me and that I would open my eyes and that they would know I had survived!

Kelsier: That's a pretty good line.

Kaladin: Thanks.

Kelsier: Did it cause them to form a religion around you that lasted for generations?

Kaladin: ...no?

Kelsier: Huh. Interesting.

Kelsier: I have a religion.

Kelsier: Do you know what it's called?

Kaladin: I'm already rolling my eyes.

Kelsier: It's called the Church of the Survivor.

Kaladin: Oh cool. Do they know you died?

Kelsier: Oh you're funny. What I actually did was have a friend of mine eat my bones and impersonate me so that people thought I was still alive and bam! Religion.

Kaladin: ...so you faked surviving.

Kelsier: I faked physically surviving with my own body. I still manipulated PLENTY of people on my planet and other planets after my "death," thank you very much.

Kelsier: And I'm working on the body thing. Any day now I'll have one.

Kaladin: I have my original body.

Kaladin: That I never lost.

Kaladin: Because I never died.

Kaladin: Just kept on, you got it, surviving.

Kelsier: Ugh, are we back to that again?

Kelsier: Until you're literally worshipped as the god of surviving, don't even talk to me about this.

Kaladin: I don't...want that.

Kaladin: Honestly, I don't even want to survive forever.

Kaladin: Isn't it lonely and depressing?

Kelsier: Would a lonely man smile like this?

Kaladin: ...

Kelsier: ...

Kaladin: ...

Kelsier: So I won, right?

[kanguin]

You know it deeply saddens me how much of an echo chamber Terfs are in. I'll be on desktop and I'll go into the notes of a post, see a shit take from a blogger with a glowing red username, go to their blog, and it's just. 10-30% normal posts, the rest nonstop Terfarama going on. Click on one blog, and all of a sudden there's a free blacklist the more I scroll through. Like, idk, I do not understand people who can dedicate so much of their life and their free time to hating other people. I hate bigots of all varieties, from your common conservative to the libertarian horde to ecofascists to the common Acolyte of Rowling, but this is the first post I've independently made about them because, I don't know about you, as much as these people actively work to make my life and the lives of people I love miserable, I just generally do not want to think about them in my spare time? Idk, I like being happy, I struggle to be happy, so why would I spend so much of my time dwelling on how unhappy a group of people make me?

But idk, maybe they're just keeping themselves in a different environment than I am. I used to consider Tumblr hellish, but ever since I've started curating my dash through selective following and liberal blocking, it's just been so much more peaceful. I come here now to relax, to hear about global events, and to share interesting posts I find, be they fandom or science or what have you. Life in general is rough as it is, why would I ever want to spend more time dwelling on that reality when that doesn't change anything?

I honestly don't think terfs know nor care that all they're ever going to do is push people away, isolate themselves, alienate the world, and harm the people they care about. They're an interesting hate group, one that isn't solely a group in power at the top punching down, but one that is largely comprised of cis women who are scared and shaken by the pain and suffering inflicted upon them by misogynistic society. But fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to teaming up with all the other people who hate just as strongly as you to feel powerful. But that feeling of power is only ever going to be a feeling. Terfs neuter their capability to effect actual change because instead of actually going after men who abuse their power, instead of nurturing their communities to grow past the need for toxic masculinity and the degradation of women, they direct all of their focus on attacking trans women, policing other women, gaslighting trans men, pushing cis men as far away as possible, and throwing everyone else under the bus to get there.

This is such a stupid strategy that even if trans women were actually secretly men and bioessentialism was true, trans women still wouldn't be men with any actual power because they neither claim masculinity, act it out, benefit from it, nor are welcome among it. Cis men regularly attack and abuse trans women en mass, deny them human rights, and deny them positions of authority. It is so, so apparently clear that trans women are below cis men in the social pecking order, so even if someone is so wrapped up in 8th grade science class biology that they can't see trans women as women, it STILL wouldn't make sense to devote so much of your energy and hate toward a group of people who objectively do not hold any societal power over you instead of the ones that do.

I sincerely hope that this epidemic of faux-feminists who court neonazis when it's convenient for them becomes a footnote in the history book someday. Ace exclusionism was largely nipped in the bud years ago, though there still are some shitheads who've never left it, but I've seen hategroups come and go. This one has had staying power thanks to JKR and other prominent figures championing it alongside the global movement mobilizing against the increased rights of trans people, but it can't last forever. I hope all the blogs I've blocked so full of hate get deleted one day when their owners can't stomach the hate poured into them anymore. It probably won't happen, they'll probably still be here until the site goes under, but I still hope. Everyone is capable of change with the right incentives, so hopefully someday soon it will be more rewarding to love trans women than to hate them.

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he's said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see the area manager humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something out of 'my big fat gypsy wedding'.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

The curtain to our booth was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. I got a few solid kicks in but was ultimately not match for the man towering over us.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dirt and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

[eularin]

I was quietly browsing the obkk tag on ao3, looking for a hot and erotic read to spend the night when I came across a common headcanon: Obito, the greatest terrorist of the Elemental Nations is a virgin with zero experience and Kakashi is the greatest fucking machine in Konoha (or, in other words: much more experienced than Obito)

This got me thinking. I thought about it so much that I came up with several ideas, several headcanons that I need to share with you since I don't know if I'll be able to write a story like this on my own. (I have so many stories in progress/on hiatus in Google docs that I get all messy ����)

Okay, here we go! How about a reverse trope? We know that ninjas are excellent war machines, they can also be great fucking machines! (They know the anatomy of the human body so well. Isn't it stupid to think that they can use this knowledge for other things that have nothing to do with killing and torturing)

I like to imagine that Kakashi is a reserved man in his private life. He doesn't kiss and tell. Not at all.

Kakashi is known as a pervert because of his beloved icha icha book, but we know that being a reader of porn stories doesn't make someone a sex-active person (or does it? I'm not sure if it counts that way). Anyway, moving on: Kakashi is reserved and rarely gets sexually involved with anyone (oh, he certainly has experience, but you know, PTSD, depression and other various triggers that can be triggered at any time are not good libido stimulants, in my opinion), continuing:

When Kakashi is feeling good and wants to have a casual encounter and a quick hookup, he doesn't go for it as himself. In other words: He doesn't like being Hatake Kakashi at those times (too public, too infamous, too risky. Too problematic. Better to disguise himself)

Kakashi is the king of disguise. He has several disguises - and Obito knows all of his disguises because Obito is a stalker freak who has a sixth sense for when Kakashi is feeling good enough to socialize. So he stalks Kakashi and monitors him.

Creepy, I know, but that's canon.

From here on things get... A little crazy? Disturbing? In short, things get a little dark.

Obito is so obsessed that he doesn't like to see Kakashi "moving on" much less getting involved with someone because for Obito Kakashi has to live in misery like he does. They need to make an agreement like this - in Obito's opinion.

But if Kakashi wants some sexual gratification, Obito can give it to him. (And why not? Obito already gave him the eye.) But Obito can't always intercept Kakashi (remember how Obito is a criminal busy plotting world domination? Destabilizing Kiri? Recruiting ninjas for the Akatsuki?) so Obito can't always disguise himself, intercept Kakashi, and be his one-night stand. What does Obito do when Kakashi spends the night with a literal stranger? It's not too hard to guess: Obito kills Kakashi's temporary partner. (Possessive, obsessive, and delusional Uchiha make a disastrous combination.)

There may be some torture and a crazy speech about "you're going to die bc you touched my teammate"

Unnamed character tied up and kidnapped by Obito: "What? Are you crazy? I don't even know who you're talking about!"

Obito: "I'm talking about Kakashi! MY teammate. Mine to touch. MINE to make him suffer. MINE to kill. MY Kakashi! And you dared to sleep with him! I hope you enjoyed your night because you're not getting out of here alive. I don't want you living in the peaceful and perfect world that I WILL CREATE in a few years. Like I'm going to let you enjoy my hard work and dream about MY Kakashi.

*Cut 🔪* the unnamed extra dies and Obito is ready to give Kakashi some nightmares (in his opinion, Kakashi needs to be punished and reminded that this hellish reality is not worth living in nor looking for good things)

~~

Okay. Now let's move on to my second idea!

We know that Obito is obsessed and obsessive. He's a crazy stalker who always watches Kakashi.

Obito is one of, if not THE greatest assassin of the Elemental Nations. He can easily be the greatest fucking machine as well. Imagine the fame that Don Juan Obito has! (let's call him Don Juan Obito, bc I can't think of a pseudonym right now).

Consider all the physical changes in Obito's body. He has seemingly limitless stamina, lots of energy to burn; lots of stress; lots of hormones inside his body going crazy during spring, mostly (Mokuton's fault. You have no idea how much it affects him.)

Jiraya wants to declare war on this ninja who dares to bewitch all the ladies in the red district wherever he goes. And the worst part! It's not just the ladies who sing praises to this magical dick Don Juan Obito.

Jiraya can't stand to hear the giggles and sighs around this man whose identity he can't figure out. (Tsunade is laughing somewhere)

Bonus scene: imagine that Kakashi (in one of his disguises) is also sighing in delight.

He didn't just have the best sex with this stranger (sort of familiar), he also received the best aftercare. But Kakashi is a reserved man, he doesn't kiss and tell. He also doesn't tell that this sex god always favors him and comes to see him every night 🤫

Kakashi wouldn't be Kakashi without a little angst and drama, right? So he has these uncontrollable Hatake instincts whenever his sexual partner is around. He wants to bite, to make his claim on this man obvious, he also gets jealous when he hears all these compliments about his man (it's not his, he knows but try to convince his instincts otherwise).

Also: to drive Kakashi crazy and mortified with himself: he thinks about Obito. Always. He slips up and calls out Obito's name and his sexual partner happily ignores it (in fact, his partner gets even wilder). But sometimes his partner is also a shit, he will ask blatantly: who is Obito? His ex-boyfriend?

(Kakashi is freaking out internally. How the hell does he imagine his ex-teammate dead at these times?)

Obito is having fun. He will probably try to sell his idea of a perfect world to Kakashi (he is so good at pillow talk. Kakashi is being seduced and manipulated.)

Bonus Scene 2: Imagine when the Eye of the Moon Plan is realized. Imagine how many people are dreaming about Don Juan Obito!

That's it. That's the post. I needed to get this out of my mind and ramble on about obkk/kkob 🤯

[da-enasalin]

Bioware has been getting a lot of flack recently and I just thought I'd share some ideas I've had about it recently.

One thing that has been bothering me about the discussion around Veilguard is that people are criticising it for the past games not having a big enough effect. Bioware has always touted themselves as a games company that has mastered the art of connecting plot lines through multiple games but, while I think it's true for Mass Effect, has never been the case with Dragon age.

Origins was designed to be entirely self contained and that shows.

Dragon Age 2 was made in a tremendous rush and that shows.

Inquisition was made with little care for the past games besides the themes / concepts and that shows.

Veilguard was made as a rushed attempt to refresh a franchise that lost itself near immediately and it shows.

This isn't me saying Dragon Age is overall bad, you would never catch me saying that in a million years, but if you have any love for the franchise you have to admit that the games have never been stable and likely never will be. A huge thing in the Dragon Age fandom is that we just don't know what parts of the lore from Origins are still accurate to what Bioware is considering cannon and I think that's one of the best examples of how Bioware don't really know what they're doing when it comes to making Dragon Age. (I say this with love)

I enjoy exploring Thedas, interacting with the people in it and developing my own ideas from what is shown to me from these games. Thedas itself being so malleable is what first drew me into Dragon Age as it is. Nothing is concrete. No one knows everything. Any piece of information you hear could very easily be false.

People are allowed to interpret Veilguard anyway they want because that's always been what Dragon Age has encouraged us to do.

The one thing that I do think is unfair is when people say that the import choices for Veilguard is what makes it bad compared to previous Dragon Age games. I genuinely can't think of a single point in any Dragon Age game where your choices in previous games has an actual impact to the point that I generally use default world states when playing.

If we want to be criticising Veilguard for being under baked then we should be criticising EA for not letting Bioware do their own thing. I have the art book for Veilguard, I've read through the Joplin section and I really would give anything for that to have been the game we got but it isn't and the fault for that lies with EA forcing Bioware to restart Dragon Age 4 god knows how many times.

Just remember it could have been a live service game. That really would have been the end of Dragon Age. Veilguard isn't nearly as hellish as people make it out to be and I really do think that something like what happened to the general opinion of Dragon Age 2 will happen to Veilguard.

[katuschka]

Touch Starved Pups – Two

Jake Kiszka x f!reader x Josh Kiszka 6.269 words

Welcome to Part Two of the story about what happens to two well-behaved, bored and horny romantics when a new feisty, worldly and hot social media manager enters the building...

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): sex, sex, sex, and sex; unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, rough oral sex, fingering, squirting, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, old unresolved traumas, bullying, online bullying, expressive language, domJake/sweet Jake, domJosh/sweet Josh, alcohol consumption, smoking

Also, if you like the story and want to get notifications for future updates, you can join the Taglist or see the Masterlist

See also Touch Starved Pups Masterpost

I'm in like I'm infatuated It's all too much, the pressure She's all that I can take She's a sad tomato She's three miles of bad road She's her own invention That gets me in the throat

When I was a kid, my mom kept telling me that my flippant and optimistic nature would make me miserable one day. It would be my downfall, she said. Well, I’m still waiting.

Nah, that’s badly worded. I never waited for anything. She kept waiting for miracles my whole childhood and it only made our life hellish sometimes. So, I either do shit, or I prevent shit from happening. Easy. Well, mostly. Sometimes, it's a bit harder but I still keep trying. While I acknowledge the fact that the world can often be a miserable place, I just decided that I’m not gonna contribute to that. If anything ever makes me feel under the weather, it’s not my life loving nature, but the people who dislike it, because hating is all they know. So fuck them. I just live my life the way I want and so far it’s made me feel good. There were even a few times when I felt like a real fucking queen! Falling asleep in the middle of a twin(k) sandwich definitely qualifies as one of those moments. 

Just imagine: It’s three am, penthouse wall windows reveal the sea of city lights below. It illuminates the room just right. It’s a magnificent, festive glow. The air is still thick with the smell of sex, probably because of all those stains on the sheets, previously drenched with pheromone infused sweat and other bodily fluids. A nice contrast to three freshly-showered, rose-scented, warm and dry bodies lying intertwined and pleasantly fatigued on those dirty, dirty sheets. Dirtied with looooove. Muahaha. One of the bodies belongs to you, the other two are none other than the sweet and spicy Kiszka twins. What a nice thing to imagine, right? Well, you can. I don’t have to. I’m right here. 

We did it! Not my first threesome, but definitely the most memorable one. Who would have thought  that those two mini labradoodles would make me feel so good! I mean, they did in the past, but this is a whole new level. And they continue to do so. Even now, when both of them are fast asleep. Their bodies emanate so much heat that I don’t need a blanket. They are my blanket, keeping me warm and cozy and…safe. That’s new.

I probably shouldn’t get used to that, but it surely is extremely pleasant right now: spooned by Josh, with his face buried in my hair. I can feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck, while Jake’s left hand rests possessively on my right thigh. I was stroking his belly, but it kept waking him up, so he stopped me by taking my hand in his and now they both just rest on top of his chest, with our fingers still intertwined. He looks stunning like this, lying on his back like a king resting after doing the king’s work. With his lips slightly parted, he’s snoring lightly, reminding me he’s still just a guy, not an elf. 

It’s intoxicating, the whole thing, the whole situation. I can’t get enough of this. I just wanna grab all their remaining limbs and wrap them all around me until I melt into them…once again. I think I will, but for now, I savor the moment in this luxurious and airy room, and the city lights keep twinkling. I bet we must look great, too, with all that night glow illuminating our resting bodies. Fit for Vogue cover no doubt…if we weren’t completely naked, that is. We wouldn’t want to offend anyone, oh no no no. So maybe just a Tom Ford ad.

You’re right, this doesn’t sound like my room. My life may be good, but I couldn’t afford a penthouse room with wall windows. This is not the night when I first made that naughty suggestion. Nothing happened in that hotel room AND there’s more to the story. So let’s go back. 

It took them a little while to fully comprehend what I was really suggesting. Poor things. Jake was the first one to turn pale. Then he started shaking his head and pointing his finger at me. “No way! No, no no,” trying to laugh it off. Who does he think I am? A stand-up comedian? I just flashed them, for fuck’s sake. That’s no laughing matter, you fucker. I’m dead serious. 

I just raised my right eyebrow at him, as I was getting impatient and becoming very, VERY annoyed. He looked at Josh for confirmation and – to my delight – found none. That up-to-no-good pixie might have looked equally frightened, but he was definitely NOT opposed to the idea. I could tell, because I could see… Jake noticed too. “Oh for fuck’s sake! Are you fucking serious?”

Josh didn’t respond. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looked me in the eye and I could tell he was searching for more clues as to what I was really up to. I thought I had made myself clear. Trying to make myself even clearer, I returned the stare with my chin up and licked my upper lip lasciviously, making Josh’s dick twitch again. 

“It’s just sex, Jake…” Josh mumbled sheepishly. 

“You’re sick! Both of you.” Jake spat and pointed a finger animatedly first at Josh, then at me, then at Josh again. 

“Fine! Bugger off, then!” Josh hissed in response, repeating Jake’s previous words. 

“Fuck you!” To my dismay, he zipped up, adjusted his shirt a bit (like anyone would be able to tell the difference) and stormed out, closing the door with a loud bang. 

“Well…” Josh sighed and rubbed his hands together with an idioting grin on his face.  I usually enjoyed his playful nature, but it annoyed me magnificently at that moment. 

“What?” 

“Hey lady, you got the love I need,” not discouraged by the acidic tone of my voice, he crooned, approaching me slowly.

… and that wouldn’t do. I could see my plan crumbling and the only way to keep things going was to keep them BOTH sexually frustrated, even if it meant denying myself some generously offered cock. I finally decided to play the “offended” card. My room, my rules. They just couldn’t get a grip!

And that’s how Josh too ended up in the hallway outside my room, holding his crumpled clothes in front of him in an attempt to hide at least his front yard valuables. One angry kick at my door before he went running to his room. I kept my ear glued to the door so as not to miss any additional drama, but apart from a surprised “whoa” coming from Robert, the security guy, followed by “run, Forrest, run”, he seemed to have scared no one. 

So, that was it. God bless my purple little friend that’s never let me down. Visualizing it in Josh’s ass with his face contorted with bliss certainly helped, too. Thank you Jake for the idea. It was great. 

We were supposed to leave early in the morning, and because the fucking schedule is sacred, it was just past seven am when we all indeed found ourselves dragging our sorry and hungover asses towards the busses. The weather was shit that day, just like our collective mood. Grey and gloomy (And wet…yeah, well, I kept having thoughts. So what!). I was already standing outside the hotel, trying to enjoy my morning cigarette – shivering just a little bit, because I had thought a light cardigan and leggings would be enough – when Josh just stormed by with his hideous cap and sunglasses on, looking like a huge white fly. 

That was unusual (even more so in this overcast weather), which could only mean that he was sulking. My theory was further supported by him lighting up a cigarette in front of the bus, meaning he was sulking rather vigorously, wanting everyone (me) to see. I half expected him to pull out a chocolate bar out of his pocket and ram it down his throat. The idea made me chuckle. 

“What did you do to him?” It was Robert, appearing next to me out of nowhere and handing  me a much needed cup of coffee. Rob knew… 

“Sucked his twin’s dick. Thank you.” 

Richard nodded in understanding, even though he didn’t understand shit about this particular scenario. I like Robert. He’s our teddy grizzly bear. A good buddy, too. I took a sip and savored it for a while because Jake just passed us by – also without saying a word – and I wanted to pretend I didn’t notice. Robert did, though, and frowned: “Wait…you gave Jake head, but he doesn’t seem too happy about it now… and Josh was running down the hall in his birthday suit in the middle of the night… Girl! Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?” Now Robert was slowly starting to understand. Bless him. 

“Do you really wanna know?”

 “Are you kidding me? You know I live for juicy tea.” I laughed while we watched Jake having a heated conversation with Josh, who ended the argument abruptly by just flipping Jake violently right in front of his almost new nose before stepping onto the bus without another word. Jake noticed us staring, flipped us too, and followed suit. We were too far to hear the words, but it was obvious they exchanged a few words that would make their mama wash their mouths with soap.

Robert pursed his lips and puffed through his nose. “OK, maybe I don’t wanna know.”  

I just shrugged. At first glance, this looked like a rather precarious situation, but I was hopeful it wouldn’t last long. After all, it wasn’t really my fault, and if the two of them had a problem with each other because of me, I had generously offered a solution. It was just a matter of time. 

“Ah, well, this is going to be a truly pleasant ride. Care to join us?” Robert asked, throwing me a devilish smile. 

“Nah, I’m good,” I grinned back. 

While Rob was a part of the closest crew, my own bunk bed was on the other bus, so that was the one I usually took, unless my work required a different momentary arrangement. To be honest, I felt like there would be a lot of work waiting for me that day (And I was right.), but I also wanted to deal with that alone. Those fuckers were in no mood to be able to handle even more bullshit. And it was a real shitstorm, lemme tell you. 

I usually start my daily routine by checking all the relevant platforms, because I wanna keep abreast of things. Sometimes it requires drinking before noon, because of all the crazy shit that one can find online. I keep doing it so that no one else has to. It’s an honorable task. Like a food taster or something. 

Some finds are more or less pleasant and make my days easier. For example almost all the twinning content. It was basically the same that day, in spite of the fact that the show the previous night wasn’t exactly a success. 

One video in particular caught my attention, though, because it looked like the feud between the two of them started well before they ended up in my room. It was not the usual twin banter. Not this time. This looked serious. I completely missed it, but clearly, you didn’t, because there were several variations from different angles, two of them featuring my lovely self. It must have happened very shortly after I took my own footage that I was about to edit next. 

None of that was new. I’m often on the fan videos, just like the rest of the crew, but I’m never the center of anyone’s attention, so in spite of some of you hating me, it doesn’t really matter…well, it didn’t, until now. The said feud was obviously about me, even though I had not been aware of any of that happening at that moment. And apparently, it made them behave unprofessionally too. 

Well, strike one.

Our night activities were quite obviously no secret, but no one batted an eye. A pleasurable distraction, that’s what it was. However, if it became too much of a distraction…if I became too much of a distraction and it should start affecting their ability to perform, I might be asked to pack my bags. That’s when I felt the first lump in my stomach. Do no harm, that’s the key. We’ve all wanted this, right?

I took a deep breath and counted to ten. It was just a brief moment. Iit couldn’t possibly be all my fault. Not all shows can be stellar; there are nights when things just go wrong. And nobody said anything to me afterwards. 

Stop overreacting, you bitch, and do your job, which you can’t afford to lose. It’s not a big deal. 

And it wasn’t. I checked more videos and it really wasn’t as bad as the general mood made it seem like at the time. As that particular leg of the tour was coming to an end, we were all just tired, irritated and homesick (Not me, but some others were, including the guys). 

I delved into the comments next. 

No, it was not a big deal, but it still made so many of you so fucking angry, because for a split second, they weren’t paying attention to you, but it was all on me. And you saw how both of them wanted me. 

Strike two!

I got used to derogatory comments, slurs or even edited pictures. I scanned past that, more or less unfazed, until my eyes landed on something that almost made me choke on my soda (with rum). 

This job taught one important thing. My own online presence is irrelevant, problematic, and potentially harmful. I have no personal accounts. That doesn’t mean I’m untraceable and as it turned out, someone dug up dirt on my father and used it to psychoanalyze me. Yes, that excuse for a man is a piece of shit. I know. He’s dead to me. But this…this was like a punch in the guts. And I just sat there, unable to take a deep breath all of the sudden.

I refuse to let people get under my skin, but that asshole is my kryptonite. I battled my demons, kicked them in the balls, but his disgusting face is the only personified evil that I never managed to overcome. The scars run deep. I hate the fact, but that’s how it is. At least I had managed to stop it from haunting me. Until now. 

The second lump in my stomach wasn’t a lump. It was a huge ball of acid goo. I barely managed to get to the bathroom in time before my body betrayed me and I said goodbye to my breakfast. 

“Are you ok?” It was Daniel, approaching me at my spot in section B right after the soundcheck ended. 

“Never been better. Why?” 

He cast me a sympathetic look. “Stella, I saw some of that shit.” 

Well, shit.

After we arrived at the hotel the previous day, I beelined to my hotel room and continued to work from there. Well I tried to do some work, but after my hands started shaking uncontrollably, I spent at least two hours crouched down on the floor in the shower before I called it a night. 

It got worse overnight. What started as just a few comments that affected me personally, snowballed out of proportion and I felt like my job was really hanging by a thread. 

I didn’t meet the twins again until soundcheck and even then we kept our distance. They probably thought that I was avoiding them and it was in fact true. I needed to function and that took all my remaining energy. I didn’t have enough brainpower to try to explain what was wrong with me. Daniel’s comment together with their sideways glances that I suddenly noticed told me that they probably already knew. I sighed, feeling defeated. 

“It just comes with the job. Working with people is not for the faint of heart. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. So, I’m fine, Daniel.” 

“Uh huh, fearless in words, as always. And yet I’m seeing that you’re not. I know you’re tough, but you’re also only human. You can’t always hide behind your words. Not only because you’re failing this time, but also because it’s not healthy.”

“So what am I supposed to do, Danny?” 

“Well, let’s start with you joining us for a drink after the show,” he smiled at me encouragingly. 

…an offer, which I didn’t take. I craved their closeness more than ever, but it was not right. I barely survived the photopit that evening and went straight to bed as soon as possible.   

The next morning passed in a haze. Once again, I spent it trying and failing to do my daily routine – just my laptop’n’me – before we all gathered for lunch. I didn’t want to go, but I had witnessed what lack of self care can do to you when I was a child, and I had promised myself to never fall down that pit. 

I managed to smile weakly at everyone before I found my seat in the corner. That’s where Jake finally approached me.

“Bebe, honey, come and join us,” he smiled and motioned towards the table where Josh was already waving at me to come. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jake.” 

He sat on the chair next to me and placed his hands on the table with a dull thud. “What’s going on? This is not you, and – believe it or not – it’s really making us worry. Is it about your dad? Because that’s just…”

“He’s not my “DAD”. And no…well, yes, kind of, but that’s my personal problem. It’s about the two of you. I’m here to do my job, and I can’t be the reason why two of you argue and consequently fail to do yours.” 

“Bebe, we’re fine…”...but I just shook my head dismissively. He took a deep breath. 

“So, if we convinced you that we’re fine and not arguing, would it be OK?”

“Yeah, perhaps…” I replied with uncertainty, to which he stood up, bent down to kiss my hair while mumbling “ok”, and went back to his table, leaving me confused on top of everything else. I quickly finished my lunch and stormed out. 

The rest of the day went more or less smoothly. Another soundcheck, just in case, even though it was the same venue, a few hours of “idling” backstage (doesn’t apply to the crew), followed by yet another hellish evening in front of the people who wanted to tar and feather me.

When I got back to my room, I just showered quickly and was in my nightgown and ready to go to bed when I heard a knock on my door. 

“Hi sparrow.” He smiled sweetly and swung on his feet. 

“Josh? What are you doing here? I’m a bit tired and…”

“I…well, WE got a little surprise for you. Come on. Let me show you.” He was already reaching for my hand but I backed away. 

“All right, all right…just let me put some clothes on, you crank. I’m almost naked, with just my nightgo…”

“Which is just perfect! Come on!” He was relentless, jumping around like a kid around a christmas tree. I have to admit, his exuberant behavior was once again contagious, and I couldn’t help but laugh. What else could I do, he was already pushing me out of the door and towards the elevator. “I hope we’re not going to go swimming…naked?!?” I asked warily, but he just laughed and kissed me softly. “Josh, we really shouldn’t…”

“Shhh.” 

To my utter bewilderment, he led me right to the door of a presidential suite. Opening it, he motioned for me to enter. I gasped. It was a beautiful one. Elegantly furnished and airy. The bedroom was separated from the large lounge only by a glass wall so that it looked more like a huge loft. Standing by a large minibar, dressed also just in a bathrobe, was Jake. He raised his glass to me with a soft smile and took a sip. I heard the door click behind me and turned around to see Josh leaning against, his expression completely altered now.   

I was impressed, not gonna lie. My babies all grown up and taking initiative. It felt as if they filtered all the blood in my veins. The bitch is back, bitches! I wondered what was in store for me there. Judging by the looks on their faces, probably nothing good. Good…

“Want a drink?” Jake asked and I nodded. 

He came closer, took a sip of his whisky. He tapped at my lower lip with his finger, urging me to open my mouth, and kissed me, spitting the drink on my tongue. It was so lewd and hedonistic! Got me all excited. I swallowed the burning liquid and kissed him back.  

“Any special requests, Bebe?” he asked when our lips parted. 

Oh, I sooo wanted to be just a ragdoll in their hands. After three days spent trying to be in control of the situation – and failing – I now realized how desperately I needed NOT to be in control for a while. To let go. Would they really do that for me? Treating me like their whore in this suite that must have been a bit expensive even to their standards? “Use me!” My tone was cold and daring, I showed no fear, but I was so ready to be tossed around the room.

Jake looked a bit surprised at first, but then he took another sip and his face hardened, eyes darkening with lust. I felt Josh’s hands running down my shoulders until they reached my elbows and grabbed them firmly. Oh god, they were hoping for this! Oh this is going to be so good. 

“Allright, on your knees, then.” 

I quickly obliged. He stripped off his gown and motioned to me to do the same. Before I could even blink, Joah was naked too. Eager bastard. They towered over me like two hounds, but I had absolutely no intention to be sheepish. They looked at each other and I swear I could feel their silent communication going on. It was like a different kind of waves, vibrating in the air and elusive to all the senses other than touch. 

“Open,” Jake ordered. I stuck my tongue out daringly and he filled my mouth without any further ado. While still holding the glass of whisky, he grabbed my hair with his left hand and fucked my mouth until I jerked back, gasping for air. He released me. “Are you ok?” he asked and his face softened. 

“Yes,” I answered breathlessly. 

“Good. So, as you probably already gathered, we’re here to convince you. It’s going to be just as you requested, but at first we’re going to make you feel good. Ok?” I nodded. Of course it was fucking ok! I was already so wet that I might get dehydrated if I didn’t get a drink soon. Glancing around, I noticed that Josh already made himself comfortable on the bed beyond the glass divider. I looked up at Jake again and he nodded. 

“Yeah, go,” Jake motioned towards the king size bed with his hand clutching a glass of whisky. His tone was mild, but it wasn’t a request. 

I climbed onto the bed and looked at Josh for further instructions. It was just so surreal, I still couldn’t really believe what was happening. He spread his legs and patted the mattress between them. “Come here sparrow, make yourself comfy.” I positioned myself in front of him and leaned my back against his chest. 

“Sparrow, we know the last few days have been rough, so if there’s anything you don’t like, tell us immediately, understand?” He whispered in my ear while he stroked my upper thighs.

“Ok,” I whispered back. He grabbed my knees and forced my legs open, making room for Jake to position himself between them. I gasped when he started kissing the soft skin of my inner thigh, making his way up, while Josh’s lips brushed against my neck, while his palms traveled up and down my upper arms. Jake’s gradual teasing was almost debilitating and I squealed when the tip of his tongue finally darted between my folds and he lapped at my juices thirstily, moaning in appreciation before he wrapped his lips around my clit and started sucking gently. The muscles of my underbelly tightened almost immediately and my whole body shook with a sudden wave of intense arousal. 

“Any further request, sparrow?” Josh bit my earlobe teasingly. 

“Choke me,” I breathed out. He wrapped his fingers around my throat and squeezed gently. “More,” I urged him. “Fuck!” he hissed, almost angrily, and his grip tightened. I rolled my eyes and let out a loud, strangled moan. Pressed with my lower back against him, I could feel how much he liked that too. “You’re something else, sparrow.”

I looked down at Jake, whose eyes met mine and I watched how they widened. I imagined what it must have looked like: my heaving chest, my parted lips and raised brows, Josh’s other hand still toying with my left tit. 

Jake closed his eyes and moaned around my clit. The fucker liked that, too. See? I knew you would. 

It took them only a few more minutes to make me cum…for the first time. Before I could react, Jake grabbed my ankles and pulled me down a bit so that my head now rested in Josh’s groin. He pressed his right palm against my core and slowly pushed two fingers inside. The intensity of the new stimulation right after my orgasm took me by surprise. 

“Jake…oh…god…what are you doing?”

“Shut up.” 

OK!

The way he started pumping his fingers inside me made me see stars. It was something new, and it made me squeak again. Sure, he had done this before, but never right after eating me out. I grabbed Josh’s arms in search of something to hold on to, leaving angry indented marks in the flesh of his triceps as Jake continued assaulting my g spot. I knew what was going to happen, and let out a strangled cry when it indeed did. I tensed, arched my back and squirted all over Jake’s forearm. 

“Good girl,” he crooned when I collapsed back onto the mattress, completely exhausted. A rag doll, indeed. They offered me no rest, though, and I was on my hands and knees before my heart could even stop racing. “Please, just a minute,” I whimpered and looked at Josh, whom I was facing now. He smiled sweetly and pecked my lips gently before he mumbled “you asked for this, honey” in his raspy, low voice. Fuck! Oh yes, I did. 

I could feel Jake positioning behind me. He ran his palms up my thighs and smacked my ass disapprovingly when they trembled. He bent down and rubbed the hot skin of his stomach against my back before he whispered in my ear: “It’s our turn, baby.” I was SO ready! My pussy was not, though, and I gasped in surprise when the tip of his cock entered me.

“Oh god, you’re so tight.” 

I could feel him stretching me and took a few deep breaths, trying to relax a bit. “Well, that’s your fault, so stop complaining.”

“I’m not…complaining…” He bottomed out, making me gasp in surprise. The stretch was so pleasantly intense, making me feel so full. “...just…stating facts!” He pulled out almost entirely and then thrusted into me again with such force that I almost collided with Josh. He grabbed my shoulders first to support me, and then started stroking my hair, massaging the nape of my neck as Jake set a steady pace. Slow and sensual at first. He knows that’s how I like it. 

“Are you feeling better?”Josh asked softly. I mumbled an incoherent “mmmhmm” and nodded. He squeezed my left boob gently and pinched the nipple slightly between his fingers as Jake’s hand traveled up my spine. I tilted my head back in a wordless plea for him to grab my hair and he did, with the other hand still kneading the soft flesh of my hip.  

“How does it feel?” It was Josh again. I closed my eyes and smiled in between my moans. It felt absolutely exhilarating. My mind practically left the room. The combination of Jake’s dick hitting my cervix and Josh’s fingertips tracing the curves of my upper body made me almost oblivious to the surroundings and I was floating on a marshmallow cloud of pure physical bliss. “Tell me baby…” I can’t speak right now. Here’s another smile, so shut up already.

“Josh?” Jake’s sultry voice brought me back to planet Earth.

“Yeah?” The response was a bit edgy. Oh dear god…

“Shut up,” Jake breathed out shakily. He tried to sound menacingly, but his voice betrayed him and faltered. I laughed softly and nuzzled my cheek in Josh's palm that was still ready to caress and support me if necessary. It was so intimate. Or it would be, if it weren’t for their childish brattiness. Even now, for fucks sake! But Jake wasn’t wrong.

“Make me.” The situation was getting a little out of hand and I grabbed Josh’s hard cock just to prevent further escalations. He yelped in surprise and I could tell Jake was getting more and more annoyed by the way he slammed into me. 

“Bebe, make him shut up.” he hissed through his teeth. I bit my lip in an attempt not to laugh because while Josh is a versatile (and kinky) lover when it comes to various roles, he would never, EVER shut up under any circumstance! But I knew what Jake meant. I wanted this, so I should be fair. I looked at Josh again and rubbed my thumb against his lower lip. “Want my mouth?” I whispered. He enveloped his lips around the tip of my thumb and started sucking at it, moaning a “yes” around it without breaking eye contact. I pulled it out and ran my trembling fingers down his chest and belly until I cupped his balls. He tilted his head back immediately and reached behind his head to grab onto the headboard, putting his lean musculature on full display. Show-off.  

I could watch him just breathing like that all day, but something else required my attention, as Jake reminded me by smacking my ass. I slowly licked around the head of that something, making Josh’s back arch. He literally wailed when I swallowed him whole once again. See? Can’t keep quiet even even if his life depended on it. 

I tried my best to do a good job, bobbing my head up and down like a good girl, but it was getting increasingly hard as Jake quickened his pace. I had to stop and I looked at Josh pleadingly. “I’m gonna need your help, baby.” He only nodded and the three of us shifted a bit, so that Josh too was on his knees now, his cock right in front of my face. He placed his hands on both sides of my head and slid his cock inside my mouth until he hit my throat and I gagged loudly. He quickly withdrew and hesitated. 

Josh once told me that he loved to gag on cock, but not everyone did, and after a few accidents, he stopped doing that to others. I assured him that I personally liked messy blowjobs, and I showed him, too…but I was always in control. He never fucked my face before. “Don’t worry,” I whispered in between my audible exhales. “You love it… I love it.... This is good…” 

And he did. And he wasn’t gentle about it, finally understanding how much I craved this. More than one hole, indeed, and I could easily accommodate them both. We made quite a mess together. I could feel droplets of Jake’s sweat landing on my back as saliva ran down my chin and tears down my cheeks. The noises they were making, the smell of their skin..I was getting high on just that. Fuck the whole world, I wanna stay here. 

Jake was getting close. I could hear it in the tone of his own moans. It’s just different: louder and more natural, no longer restrained. It wasn’t because Josh was there, that’s just how he is…unless he’s relaxed or tipsy, or both. And that’s also how I can tell he’s about to unload.  He just no longer cares, losing himself in the moment. I wish he knew just how sexy that is!

He grabbed me by my biceps and pulled me up to him, making me abandon Josh’s leaking dick momentarily. I had no time to feel sorry about that, because with the change of position, he could now hit that perfect spot inside me so well that I got goosebumps. I snaked my hands behind me to hold on to his hips as he continued pounding into me. I could feel his hot breath on the side of my neck, his parted lips barely touching my skin. The sensation was so similar to what Josh was doing just a moment earlier that my breath hitched. All these subtle reminders that they were in fact identical twins always made my pussy spasm, especially when the sensory quality of those little reminders was this superior. The two of them definitely don’t need to look up the definition of “sensual” in the dictionary. 

My train of thoughts turned my attention back to Josh, and I opened my eyes to see him watching us with his mouth open and his hand wrapped firmly around his cock. The son of a bitch obviously enjoyed the sight, and I couldn’t blame him, because he was quite a sight, too. He wasn’t in a hurry, stroking himself slowly in order to save his love juice for me. Just then Jake darted his tongue out and licked a long stripe up my jugular while he hit that spot again. “Come on Bebe, give it to me,” he pleaded in my ear, meaning he was already reaching that edge. That pushed me past mine. My mouth opened in a silent scream and I came hard on his cock. 

He wrapped his arms around me and after four more jerky thrusts, he spilled inside me, each shot accompanied by a loud, howling moan. 

After he released me, I fell back on my arms right in front of Josh. I darted my tongue out and he met me halfway in a messy kiss. “How do you want me?” I whispered when we parted. 

“On your back,” he commanded. 

And I obliged. “Hold her,” Josh uttered in a low, raspy tone, and Jake’s hands wrapped around my wrists, pulling my arms over my head. Josh grabbed my knees, forcing my legs apart, threw one leg over his shoulder, positioned himself and slowly sank his dick inside me, making me hiss. 

“Are you sore?” he asked softly, while his fingers caressed my belly. I was a bit, but not enough for it to be unpleasant. “No,” I shook my head slowly, blinking lazily. I felt him pulsate inside me, his rock hard dick begging to be cherished. I squeezed around him, begging him to go on. He made the slightest move and exhaled heavily, dropping his head down. Josh was sensitive. Not in a way that he couldn’t last long, quite on the contrary sometimes, but the way he expressed himself during sex always made you think that he was going to jump out of his skin any moment. 

He looked at me again, stroked my cheek and I closed my eyes momentarily. “Tired?” he whispered. Oh for fuck’s sake, Joshua! Stop acting like a nurse and fuck me senseless. But I decided to reward the sweetheart in him by being kind. He meant well. “No, I think there might be one more,” I smiled quasi-sweetly at him and he repaid me with a vicious grin. Grabbing my hips firmly, he started pumping into me. 

It was intense. Maybe a bit too intense. I wasn’t by any means raw, but I surely felt a bit overstimulated already, and my legs started shaking. 

I could feel another orgasm building, but this one would be almost painful. I could already tell. I didn’t care. I wanted this. I needed this. Josh kept stroking my thighs in a vain attempt to soothe me, but I did not want to be soothed. I needed fireworks, and he was already striking sparks deep in my core with each stroke. Pleasure and pain. 

Jake leaned down and kissed my lips tenderly. A sudden wave of electricity shot through my whole body. This whole experience was far better than I expected. No matter how fucked out I already was, they managed to shot new waves of fresh arousal through my system. I felt completely lightheaded, floating an inch above the mattress again. Then it hit me, and my whole body convulsed. I screamed and thrashed about in between them. Jake released me and at the same time, Josh leaned down and wrapped his arms around me to prevent himself from slipping out. I did the same, squeezing him tight. Two more powerful thrusts and then he suddenly stopped, inhaled sharply and squealed in my ear as he came inside me. 

It was just the beginning…

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names @emojakekiszka @hollyco @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @cheersdannyx2 @gvfstuddedmajesty @gvfmarge @dayumclarizzel @musicislove3389 @lipstickitty @seenoversundown @gretnavannfleet @gretasfallingsky @peaceloveunitygvf @clownstarr @watchingover-hypegirl

[fandomobbsessedb]

Yandere!Wally Darling x Female Reader.

Summary: Reader goes for a stroll in the woods on the edge of The Neighborhood when it starts to feel like somethings wrong, when something tells them they’ve done all this before

AN- This is my first shot at a “Welcome Home” one-shot and I really hope that it turns out decent lol

Key: P/F= Preferred Flowers

TW: Manipulative behavior!!. Very descriptive setting/ other worldly feelings/ out of body feeling.

⚪️🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢⚫️

Breathing in the bittersweet and earthy tones of the hearty oak trees around you, your feet continue their walk on the colorfully (soft?) road. In your right arm a basket from Julie, you had been at her house to help her with a new garden set up and in return she gifted you a bouquet of (p/f)!

In your left hand you where periodically smelling the crazy rose you found growing alone a few feet away from all the other single colored roses, the outside petals where a beautiful royal blue and the inside was a dark hellish black. For some odd reason you saw it and just couldn’t stop thinking of the Darling, your darling, Wally Darling. You and Wally have been a thing for as long as you could remember. You’ve always lived in Home with him, you two are rarely apart, always attached at the hip.

You tried racking your brain as to how this crazy flower reminded you of him, maybe because it was so different, and to you Wally felt different. It would make sense you see him differently than the rest, he’s your love.

An odd feeling drew you from your thoughts, the pressure of a hard ground beneath your feet, and not the comfortable cradling one it was just in. Looking around you came to your senses and realized you where into the forest now, the colorful road long gone, you couldn’t even tell how far from it you where. Inspecting your surroundings it not only felt like you where looking around, but like something was watching you back, part of you wanted to believe it was watching you to keep you safe, but you knew it wasn’t real…..

You always asked Wally to go on pic-nic’s in the forest but he would steer you far far from the tall woods.

Thinking you could find your way back on your own you turned around and tried to go back the way you came. As you went on it felt like not only the ground was hard, but the sticks on the trees seemed harder than the soft squishy ones you would throw to Barnaby. Instead of the comfy rounded ends that would bump into you to make you aware of their presence, these sticks felt harsh and pokey, almost like they where grabbing at you with hands that belonged to the bodies the eyes inhabited and were pulling at your pretty mini rainbow dress that complimented your Wally.

Continuing your trek into the woods you started to realize little by little the odd changes. The air felt thick and muggy… you thought your eyes where tricking you, on the very edges of the trees and the bushes there was a darkness barley peeking it’s head out of hiding, just around your pupils… the sounds of the birds and bugs started to dull out into a sharp pitched sound, like when your dancing with Wally late into the night and your radio channel ends with a sharp sound that Wally quickly turns off, only exposing you for a spilt moment…

The basket in your arms feeling heavier then before, looking down to see the reason…. Your whole bouquet was wilted, all your pretty flowers you where going to show Wally… they where all dead, looking to the rose in your other hand the world around you started to spin, now instead of seeing it as your love, it made you feel sick, staring at the black center it consumed your eye sight, feeling like a black hole you where falling into.

You dropped the rose unable to move any other part of your body, the sharp brain warping sound filing your head, now not being able to feel anything, you slowly painfully lift your head to look around, there no more sounds, no more colors, no more dimension-

The trees are black lines filled in with a dark color that’s pulling you towards their gravity only for another to shove you in the opposite direction, the ground trips you even more off your trail as it looks like grey sand, slipping all over the floor. It doesn’t help when your already trying to get your way back. Everything started to move, the trees swayed almost animated… the bushes jumping up and down like an old cartoon, and then you, not even able to find a grip, because everything shocks you like static. A distorted voice coming from the trees breaks you out of your spin-

“Oh Mrs.Darling… My darling… haven’t we been through this already…. You can’t leave….. didn’t you learn that the first 3 times you tried this…..?”

Flashes of a bright white light blinding your vision and threw you in all sorts of directions, shapes and colors started to make pictures in your head.

A woman brushing a small girls hair into their favorite style

A bigger teenage boy throwing the smaller infant into the air and watching them giggle with joy…

A father and mother hugging the now ten year old child as a congratulations for making it to the next grade…

The older teenager who was once the child spending the day with their friends doing the things they all love…

The young adult once teenager hugging their parents in their soon to be filled apartment….

The grown woman sitting down after a long tiring day at their job, turning on the tv to watch a comforting show, the same, friendly, neighborly, bright colored show that kept them captive for hours.

a SNAP broke you from the visions and the warmth and comfort of your felt covered world came rushing back to you as you where almost blinded when the color seeped back into everything. Almost like time had been rewound to before you got lost from the road.

The stick that had just gave out beneath your foot being the only thing to assure you that what you had just been through was real. You took a step backward trying to catch your breath, feeling like something was gripping your lungs, the hands from the sticks grown into monstrously large and round hands squeezing every big of oxygen from squishy lungs, wringing them out like a water filled cloth. The ground giving out beneath you and throwing you back, almost like a million arms pushing you back towards your captivity.

Tumbling down the hill it’s impossible for you to hurt yourself, he made sure of that. Just the shock of everything that recently happened, you opened your mouth to scream but you weren’t even sure if anything came out…

You hit the bottom of the hill feeling your basket crush under your heavy body, the squished flowers ruining your dress, as you just lay there breathing, catching your breath, you hear light footsteps coming up to you. Pushing yourself up with all of your leftover strength your able to sit up, using your hips to cradle the rest of your upper anatomy you just look around.

W̵̫̼̲͉̼̭͓̽̃̀͒̈̇͗̌͂̀͠h̴̨̠̳̰̬̫̯̺̦̫͇̙͇̘͙̤̞̃̀̀̍͒͗̈́̋̕͝a̶̧̼͖͂͋͐̄͐̔̓̆͊̀̑͛̊̚t̵̢̠͙͈̣͙̠͈̏̈́͒̉ͅ ̴̟̘̯̘̠̝͇͓̟̣̤̋̅͒̂̓̾̊̅̇͊̕͜͜͠a̶̪̹̥̮̲͖͇̔̏̈͘ṛ̸̨̀͒́̅͑e̵̬̥̙͍̩̜̺͈͍̋́̒͋̽ ̷̡̛̯͎̖̼̔̋̔͆̎͗̔̎̓̓y̸̩͊̽̄̎̏͗̓́̀̊͘ǫ̷͎̟̟̤̳̃͗̾̚ű̷̧̨̺̤̙̜̠̰̺͊͋́͑̂̒̈́̃̍͌͜͝ͅ ̷̡̳͑̀͆͛̇̽̑͂͛͝ď̸̨̟̖̤͕̜͖͎̜͔͖̙̣̭͉̝͛͛͗ŏ̴̘͊̍̌̎̏̑̑͊͋͠į̸̨̱͙͈̳̻̖͚̱͇̘̹̼̓̾̓̎̑̊̾̌͌̌̆͊̕͠͝͝ͅn̷̡̢̫͈̲͈̬̹͙͈̭̗̠̬̘̺̣̽̆g̸̡̢̹͇̻̳̦̪̤̥̔̾̒̋͑ ̸̱̟̤̝͍̒͛̒̄̆͂̀̾̂h̴̙͉͇̭͍͉͙̰͗̋̀̓̆̍̒̊ë̵͇̦͈̙̥̲̥̝̖̩̯̲̥́̽̓̆̎͜ř̷̥̫̪̣͈͉͜ȩ̴̧̪̘̠̤̖̝̂͆̒̀̄̑͋̓̂͝

N̵̛̠̲̬͍̺̿̿͌͋͋̍̽̈́̽̓̌̑̐̃͂̒̓͛͊͒̽̃̂̌̂͌͊̏́̎̾̓̋̅͌͑̇͊͠͠͝͠ỡ̴̛̞̙̱͎͚̊̎̿̃̋̽̆͐͂̈́̈́̇͋͑̍͗̈́͑̍̀̒̋̈́́̀͐̀͂̋̆̓̉̈͒͘͘͝͠͝͠t̷͖͎̩͙̲̥̩̟̞͚͒̈̈́͆͗͌̏̉ ̵̯͍͓̺͎̻̙̗͙̟̞̜̝̣̯̳̭̻̩͎̤̝̯̹͇̺̭̝̞̳̯̳̹̦̩̗̠̟̫̏͌̀͛̒͛̓͗̈́̒͌̈́̂́̐͊̊̍̈́̂͌̆͗̒̈́́̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅf̸̢̢̢̧̢̧̛̪̺̝͕̺̝̞̺͈̫̩̣͚͎̞̘͙̦̙͎̜͓̞̘̺̩̼̝̬̫̯̼̖͈̾͒̐̑̋̍̉͌͐͆̊̿̏̐̕͝͝͝ͅơ̸̡̧̢̡̧̯͎̳̯͎͇̠̬͙̬̜̟͍̩͇̝͇̯̠̖͈̟̗͉͙̝̝̝̠̮̟̯͚͓̩̼̈͛͊̋̏͆́͂͛͜ͅͅŗ̸̛̛͉̫̹̮͍͕̖̗͍̭̠͈͔̭͖̩̝͚̻͖̳̲̩͔͕̜̼̦̪̻̳̦͛́̓͋̾̋͊̏̀̓̍̃̅̾͊̅̐̐͛̄̊͌̋̐̏̈́̉̀͐̅̃̂͌́̓͛̈̓͘̚̚͝ͅͅ ̸̟̳̔̇͊́y̴̢̡̢̧̛͚̫̣͉̻͚̗̹̬͈̝̭͙̤͕͓̱͕̯̦̻͇͖̠̹̬͖̰̻̰̼͍͖͎͚͚̭̆̐̌̄̊́́̃̋̾̑̂̑͑̏̌̋̑̄̂̉̕͘̕̕͘͠͝ͅǫ̸̨̨̨͖̣͉̬̠̩̬̞̤͈̺͌̀͒̆̊̂̄̚͝ữ̶̧̛̭̭̞̤̺͉͈̗̼̥̖̦̝̏̓͌̐̿͗̈́̄͊̔̀̊̀͋̐́͌̌̋̈̾̐̏̀̈́̐͌̽̕͘̚͝͠͠͝

A̸̢̡̢̧̧̨̢̡̧̧̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͚̗̗̺̹̭̩̼̦̼̩̹̺̞̣̜͖͇̱̩̖̳̮̺̱̱̗̖̳̰͓̣̗̜͓̘͉̯̯̲̹͇̬̼̯̘̭̬̳͓̩͖͔̞͈̗̼͎̠̲̜͉̭̞͎̝̱̱̘̝͎͔̰̣͎̥͕͓̙̪̻̘͖͈̟̫̲̯̭̝̻̳͖̗̣̠̭̤̭̥̯̞̫̬̥̞̮̠̟̤̦̫͔̠̳̪͇̺̖̱͉̼͎̮͓͈͈̫͉͔̳͎̻̪̖̫̤̝̲̥͗͑̒̃̀̏̏̃́̇̐̈̈̾̄̋͋̔̒͊̋̈́̅͗̈̇́̀͒͐̂̂̅̇͒̅̆͐̂̂̇̐̐͒̂̓̓̋̈́͌̄͐͊̓͊̌̀̀̿̀̾̄́̎̈͆͆̐̒̾̀̍̉́̉̂́̀͒̇̉̏̉̌͑͂̈̿͂̓͗́̀͛̒͒̌͋̐̈́̇̔̌̀͗̆̀̇̔̅́̿̅̆̄̈́̂̒͛͌̆́̄͛̕͘͘̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅg̸̡̢̧̨̧̢̢̡̡̢̡̧̡̢̢̡̡̛̗̭̣̣̯̫͍̪̗̞̩͇͚͈̖̪͈̼̺̪̖͚͍̹͖̲̺̠̜̗̻̜̣̥̳̳͙͇̯͇͔̩͓̘̪̰̙̪̩̖̭̳͙͚͓͚͚̞͍̗͔̪̖̺̭͕̻̣͉͚̜̲̥͎̦͙̹̞̞̝̠̹̪͕̻̣͕͉̘͈̠̫̻̘̰̹͈͕̦̮̬̤͓̣͇̟͕͕̟͚̖̯̱̹̗̼̞̭̙͇̃͊͊͋̀͒̀͒̑̽͑̎̀͒́̀̈͌͐̿̀̆͗̉̆̃̋͂̃̈́͋̒̊̄̌̆̉̀́̿̂̅̄́̈͊̉͋̉̍̾͌͊́͂͋̾̒̓̆̈́̂̆̚͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅḫ̸̛̙̜̹̰̰̬̫̤̦̯̬̹̟͔͔̘̪̪͎͔͔̙̞̼͇̹̯̈́̽͒́̏͊̒̈͆̇͛̐͊́̏̋̽͆͐̈͌͆̈́̌͘̕̚͜͝͝h̸̛̊͒͋̉̈́́̋̄̔͊̓̂̒͂̀̽͒͗̐̅͆͑̀̔̍̕͘͝͝͠͠��̢̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̥̣̭͉̻̙̰͓̘̰̙̺̞̺͎̮̖̭̩͙̖͕͓̮̜̘̻̳̋͒̉̅̏̀̒̍͂̿̎͐̌̒̈́͒͆̓̾͐̇̐̔̔̊̇̇̂̋̅͋̉̊̓̑̅̓̑͆̎̋̋̎́̐̀̄̃̿̽̀̓̇̂͐̽̈́̓̃̿͗̆̄͆͐̈́͐̀̿̈͐͂̀̿̍͌̓̈́̀̊͂̈̍̆̑̓͋͒̋̊̇̚̕̕͘͘͜͜͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝h̵̢̡̘̜̺̹̮͓̟̖̟̮̮̳̯̩̯͉̝̥̜̭̤́͌̿̈́̈̐̈̅̀͂̇͒͛͋̓͐͘͝h̴̡̧̨̢̧̨̧̨̧̨̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̝̟̹̟̪̲̺̰̞͖͖͖̤͇̲̘̪̭̘̩̙̭̺̟̜̮̦̣͚̜͙̗̣͎̜͓͖̝̥̱̟̝̫̝̤̺̦̮̘͇̰̘̘͙̟̙̘̭͕̲̱̮̫͇̖̦̩͖̻̰͉̲̝̭͚̹̳͍͓͕͕̜͚̼̜̟̫̟̞̳̼̘͕̝̤̭͓͈̫̭̩̪̺̜̠̥͉̪̘̝̼̟̥͖̞̗̼̗̟̠͔̝̰̫̪͓̞͇̘̹̰̮̼͍̺͕͔̦̹̪͇̬̭̟̜̫̥̼͔̗͇̯̭͆͊̽͊͛̒̄̐̽͂̾͆̄̈́̽̌̆̅̍͂͊̿̓̂̈́́̈̆͑͊̀̈̃̃̊͛͌͐͒̂̿͂̈́̄̓̊͊̿͆̏͊̀͛̊͒̽͛̓͛́̔̊͛̄̑͗̂͆͒͋͌̎͆͌͗̈́̽͑̃͋̈́̓͂̉̽͂̆̓́͂̄͂̋̀̎̎̒̂̂̓͒̓͑̄̋̈͒͆̓̂̅̎̑̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅḩ̵̢̨̡̧̨̢̧̧̡̛̼͍̻̥̟͖̘̜͙͍̬̯̫͈̮͕͚̳͈̜̞̝̮̙̯̣̤̻̣̟͖͙͖͕͍̖̜̼̪̟̱͚̳̜̠͉̭̘̭̗͇̤̩̪͕͇͉̗̞̟̱̥̖̩̻͎̱̼̱̹͈͉̲̤͙̜͎̝̝͇͔̝̞̫̹̤̯̮̞̘̖̘̦̳͖̖͉̣̠̼̙̥͑́͐̅͐̔̑̂̌̈́́̓͂́̑̿̈́͊̈́͆͌̑̉͛͆̈́̀̋̅̿̄̓̈́͛͗͋̉̏͛̀̒̈́̄͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͝H̶̡̡̨̡̡̢̧̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̜͙̟͕͎̦̜̙̲̹̜̳̩͖̗͔̝̰̺̭͍̥͇̬̘̻̦̲̤͍̫͙̮̼͈̲͈͈͎̘̮̮̗͕͍̥̮̥̥̠̱̹̺̟̼̮̣̤̭̠͓͎̖̦͓̯͉̥͕̱͚͉̥̼̭̭̗͍̯̰̲̞̺̲̰̠̖̥͕̙̙̥͚̤̤̭͇̩̠̖͓̤̼̋͆̀̆̀͋̾͐̆͒̀̑̊͂̒̔̈̊͑̌̍͂̐̇͊͋̿̆̀̅̑̓̀̔͐̈́͛̋̾̽̔̈́́̓̄͐̍̄̔̍̉̓͐̎̓͐́̀̉̂̈́́͐̃̈̌̏̽̑͆͌̾̽̇͒́͌̔́̃̆̔̾̀͛̊́̊̐̌̾̂̔̀̄̿͌̈̈́̄̀̈́̈́̃̊̈́̀̔̀̐͒͒̅̓͌̽̀̂̕͘͘͘͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅh̸̡̨̧̡̡̧̧̢̢̡̧̡̨̨̢̧̢̡̡̧̨̢̧̛̛̛̩̣̘̯̠̭͉̟̟̼͕̺̰̫͉̤͖̤̫̘͙̮͖͕̻̯͈͕͕̱̠̖͚͎͇̼͉͈̰͚̝̝̼̜̪̰̲͈̬̘̦͎̰̣̮͓̺̗͈͈̦̰̝̭̻̺͔͖̹̩̱̲͕̻͇̝̭̣̯̰͖̥̘͎̝̪͉̣̣̦̤̠̤̥͈̩͈̫̖̝̙̗̜̞͓͎̱̦̲̝̖͇̯̥̹͔͕͚̖̩̹̫̱̬̱͎̦͔̘̗̗̤̞͙̠̼̥͚͉̗͙̪̬͚̗̖͖̺̥̞̯̪̦̰̻͚͎̤̦͇̖̞͇̮̟͕̮̖͙̥̞͔̜̬̻̟̣͚̘͈͒͊̂̊̂̑̍͆̇͛͐̀̾̍̆̾̄̉̓̀̃̆̿̈̔̽͛̈̀͊͑͛̀̓̄̿̓̿̈́͋͋̄̃͗͒́̒̈́͐̐̓̈́͛͌͆́̾̆̐͒̆͑͊̎̑̀̈́̃̂̀̈́̔̅̉͗͂̍̈̄̎̀͐́́̀̿̏͗̄͋̍͑̋̍̀̓̽̈̕̕̕̚̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅh̵̡̨̨̧̨̨̨̡̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̫͔̰̮̙̗̜͇͎̠̦̩͕̼̼͍͎͉̲̭͖̝̥̗̻͕͎̥̲̱̥̫̼̯̰̲̟̰̺̞̜͍͙̟̳͚͙͓̥̜̻̰͔̘̖̟̩̯̙͔̲̺̬̘͔̹̣̯̹͍̱̟̺͓̬̣̣̗̹͙͉͉͍̜̗̱͖͍̠̻̞̠̻̖̫͖͇͓͇̦͇̱̻̼͉̿̈́̊̆͛͂̀͆̉̎̈́̀̊̈́͌̏͒̑̎͛̔̄́̎̅͊̍́̽̎̌̽̉̎̉̀̊̃́͂͐̀̀̒͒̏̑̀̓̐̆̏̏̒̾̄̐̈͛̊͑̎̇͑́͋̊̎̎̈́̅̒̏͊̋͆̉̄̀̔̿̄͒̔̑̓͂̆̒̓̒̌̊̀̌̎̍̓̔̉̑̐́̎̈́͐̈́͆̆́̓͋̑́́͂̉̆̊̃̔̓̈́̄̽͌̈́̐̉́̀̋́͗͗̿̂̎͂͌̀̌̓̕̕͘͘͘̚͘͘̕͘̕̕̚͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝��̡̡̨̢̡̢̢͕͔̲͖̙͍̬͎̞̜̻̮̭̱͎̦̻͙͚̪͙̮̘̼̗̳͕̞̰̗̙̖̗̰̺̣̹̥͎͕͉̘̝̗̩̼͓̭̮͔͕̺̼̬̬̙̼̺̻̟̥̝̼̳͈͎̯͖̥͜ͅḩ̸̛̛̛̛̗͇̮̏̍͗̓̊͋̋̄͆͋̃̈́͐̑̿̄̒̈̀̈́͑̎̀̋̀̂͊̆͌̏̏̂́̍͋̓̅̇̒͐̎͊̈̈́̉͂͆̓͆͑̆̈́̃̍̑̎̏̊̄̃̏͌̌̿̎̋̍̈́̈́͐̓̌̀͆͒̆̍̇͊͛͛́̂͗̎̀̽͗͌͑̾̏̌̀̄̒̀̅͌̂̎̋̔͑̇̒̆͊̎̀̈́͌́͐̓̏̌͋̾͆̽̀̊̾͂̈́̈́̌̈̓͒͊̒͗̆̌̉͆̈́̂͛̔̑̂̌̈́́̿͂̈́͋̍́̓͑́̎̐͊̒̀̿̓̈͌͊̑̄͑̊͗́̆͂̔͂͐̎͒̓̓̀͑̚̕̕͘̚̕̕̚̕̚̚͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ḫ̸̨̨̧̢̛̛̛̦̙̖̰̼̜̻̟̬̰̬͖͔͇͓̤̝̫̣͔̺͖͎̬̣̩̺̟̬͈͎̫̠͎̯͉̖̬̥͓̪̟͍͚̞̲͎̯̝̦̺͕̼̯͍͓̹͕̜̗̽̐͊̍̾̔́̿͑̐̔͋̑̓͊̈́̂̒͋̊̓́̔͂̎͂́̒́̃̂̈́̉̈́̌̊̈́̆̓̂̍͑́͋́̈̃͐̉̉͒͛̅́̏̀͐́̿͋͗͐͊̂͆̀̉̽̃̏̊̒̇̀̐͐̂̀͐̈́͗̆͑̈́̀̈́͋́͆̀̄́̇͑̐͊̀̍̈́̆͑̂̒͆̔̀̆̏̃̌̍̍̎̓̓̅̋̆̈́͊̈́͗̉͋̀̆̎́͋̓̃̂̒͐͋̀͂̀̕̚͘̕̚̕̕̚͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅḩ̵̢̨̛͚̟͖̼̳̭̝̟̼̱̲̠̮̯̩̦͚̹̯̘̘̟͙͇̘͙̞̥̹̺͍̇̍̔̽̐̆̽͒̇̍̒̈̽̃̅̾̿̋̅̌̐̃̐͋͘̚̕̚ͅͅḥ̷̡̨̨̧̡̨̨̡̡̧̧̢̡̧̢̡̧̡̛̛̠͚͎͙͙̬̩͍̰̲̭͉̘̗̮̞̠͕̮͔͙̭̺̪̜̞̟̜͇͙͖̫̯̳͖̦͍̳͉̩̰̱̺̪̟̜̭̰̠͇̼͎̹͔̫̤͙̥̘̱̪̟͓͚͕̪̣̣̠̹͇͓̤̟̦̠̯̟͉͉̳͕̫̙̘͎͍͙̞̠̙̙̦̱̜͍̯͈̤͎͚̮̥͖̯̥̯̲̯̦̟͇͚̤̹̣̤̱͎̀̂̀̔̌̂́͌͊̃̽͒̾̏̉͛̈́̏̄͊̾̈́̈́͗̎̐̿̂̒̀̾̃̓́͑͆̀̐̋̈́̈́̉̃̑̾̎̃͌̂͗̈́͒́̓̾̽͛̇̃̈̿͋̇̑̒̔͂͛̑̌͋͐̆̎̀̓͒͘̚͘̕̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠

“Oh my- DARLING!! Oh, are you alright?” Wally scrambled over to you with concern.

You’re standing in front of a flower field, turning around to face him he gasped and paused where he was standing. “Oh love, what happened?” Words escaped your mouth before you could form them, you couldn’t speak- your dress was torn up, your pretty little flower basket crushed, your hair undone from the pretty braids Wally had done that morning.

“I….. I Uhm…… I don-“

What had happened….. did you pass out? Yeah… yeah that must be it, how else could you explain your state.

“I was helping Julie and I must’ve passed out on my way back to Home” placing your hand on your head wiping off……….. sand? You shook out your dress as best you could and as the dress seemed to get rid of the sand it was gone the minute your eyes met it.

“Oh Darling you where never at Julie’s house.” Wally said with that calming smile.

“I wasn’t?” Looking down to your dress you saw that it was torn up and soggy but no remnants of your ruined flowers.

“There was a huge rainstorm, you came out to collect your gardening tools so they wouldn’t get ruined, that was 15 minutes ago I’ve been frantic.” He stated with a downward worried gaze going to embrace you.

Placing your head to his chest feeling the soft comforting warmth you always have, feeling so tired from……….. the storm, your ready to give out.

“Oh Darling your dress is all ruined, and your face is all muddy, oh my poor love, let’s go inside and get you cleaned up so we can head to bed, don’t worry my darling I’ve got you………. I won’t let you go………”

A̵̤͍̽̓̓̅͗̐́͂̇̈́͆̕͘͝͝l̵̡͖͎̤̭̹̺̩̭̣̘̮͎̂̎̔͐̾͆̆̍̀̾̕l̵̳̪̟̭̮͇̭͓͉̬̟̒̆̅̆̿͒̓̍̈́ ̴̺̦̺̻̬̺̜̄ͅẙ̷̢͎̩̟̱̬̤̘̘̫͍͆̍õ̶̡ű̸̧͖̤͙̖͕̥̩̔̑͂̓̆͐̆̿̕̕̚ ̸̧̨͇̼͙͍̦̫͎͔̺̭͂͋͊̿̃̃͋͌̂̓c̷̛̱͓̲̥͍̦̫̆̊̈́̾́̊͒͗à̷̟̦͌͂͌̏̿͋͋̈̇n̶̬͆ ̵̰̭̻̪̰̔̀̊̀̃̐̀͌͐ḫ̵̡̰̯̜̥̲̝͖̙͗̑͆͒̔̾͌͐͋̀̎͒͘̕͝ę̸̧̝̠̞̳̫̙̜͉̲͓̥̹̩̻̋́̄͋̍̒̿̾̊̍͋̓̈́̕ą̷͔̱̖̱͈̫͖͋̅͂̓̃̽̋̒̅͝͝r̷̨͈͙͎̗̜̤͚̤͕̥͕̽̅͊̓̈́̎͑͜͠ ̵̼͉͕̲͙̟̲̝̞̲̍͆̒̀͑͌̈̉̈́̍̽̊͝ỉ̸̡̻̟̰̬̫͍̦̗̙͙̙̙̼̏̐͜ş̵̡̳̰̮̹͍̰̱̯͇̻͙͓̺͆́̽̉͂͗̌́̀̏̿̚̚̕͠ͅͅ ̸̥̀̍̓͂̍̽́̀͂̓͑̌̀͌̚ş̶̡̧̪̟͚͕̣͓̻͛̇̇̇̿̾̑͛̏́͗͛͂͗͋̓̅͜ͅt̷̛͚̮̙͚̾̊͊̎̇̏͑̕a̸̧̞͚͎͉̎̉̈́͌̌̈͘t̵̨͇͙͖̬͈̝̯̹̾ḯ̶͈̮̞͖̥̘̳̟͎̗̹̱͚͜ç̷̛̬̬̯͔͎̓̈́̍

n̶̹̝̰͈̪̪̟̻̓̽̂̿̽̑̋o̷̬̮̩̣̭̫͂̔͌̀̏̀̌̔̔̅̚ţ̸̙͇̤̻͉̖̖̜͇̫̩͉͎̮͒͑̑̄̃̾̓̅̆̀͘ͅh̸͓̰͕̙̖͚̩̦͐̅̽̄͗͑͂i̶̛̦̺̼̖̠͕̦͍̲͑͊̋̄̂̅͗͐͊̀̎͑̿͠ǹ̵̨̢̖͉̗̗͎̜̥̮͈̝̲͛̊̑̋̌̕͜͜g̴̲͚͉̱͍͍̰͓͖̝̩̠̩̔̅͋̌̐̒̂͌̏̀̔̈́̅͆̑ ̶͖̱̱̠̔̑̀̉̏̌̓̄͆̎͑̈̃͜i̵̖̬̻̦̤̗͎̙̅͜s̴̠͙̥͕̯̬͙̺̦̻̤̓̓̆͑̀̂̕̕̕͜͝ ̷̧̢͉͇̲̠̲̞͈͍̣͙͎͌͊̌͂̎̓̑͊̈́̈́͒̚̚m̴̢͕͈̿͗̌̈́̾̇͛͑̐͛̽́̕͝͠ö̵̧̧̡͇́v̸̨̞̱͖̪̳͓̭̮̥̲͎͓̀̉̽͘į̴̡̧̬̯͍͕̩̟̳͉̱̪̭̀̀́̌͂̐̃̒̌͜͝ṇ̵͍͖̼̳̪̏̽̋̾̀̍̈g̶̰̣͂͂́̍͊̂͆̎̏͠ͅ ̶̩̥͚̖̓̀̍̑͐̍͆̂͊̋̏̈́͊͝

Opening your eyes your now at your vanity in your room, Wally’s brushing out your hair. Your wearing your matching blue pajama set.

“There we go my beauty, all cleaned up” he placed his hands on your arms and laid his head atop yours.

“Look at my pretty darling, my beautiful darling.” He sighed out kissing the top of your head then turning you around so that he may hold you just as he did in your garden.

Letting him go you spin around happily and throw yourself onto his side of the bed, giggling you see Home wave the cupboard doors around and shiver the room a bit. Wally chuckles a bit and lies down with you, all three of you sighing out in content, Home simply expanding the room a bit almost in a relaxed state.

“Goodnight Wally”

“Goodnight my darling” as you lay together you gaze into his eyes, thinking about how beautiful the color of his eyes would be as a flower…

[cheesus-doodles]

thoughts on Izana with an S/O whos adopted?

Would he have any resentment or jealousy since s/o was adopted and had a good childhood?

i lied i haven’t started on anything else because my head is still too full of izzy ahhh my boy my bb boy

Masterlist

‎

I highly doubt that Izzy would be resentful or jealous of you, not in the slightest. You are the sun to his earth. If anything, this boy would see the fact that both of you were adopted to be a sign from the universe that the clearly, the two of you were meant to be together. Either way, once Izzy has latched on, he doesn't have any plans to let go.

But what this boy despises with all his being would be your adopted family.

Interestingly enough, Izzy doesn't actually have a problem with you growing up in comfort and love, because you wouldn't be as perfect as you are today. Simply can't bear to imagine you having to live a life of hardship, violence and backstabbing like he had. Yet at the same time, this white-haired boy absolutely resents the same fact that your adopted family had 'sheltered' you as much as they had, and had provided a loving and comfortable childhood for you to grow up in, unlike what he had to suffer through.

‎

Izzy resents that your adoptive parents had a close relationship with you, and you with them, hates that you have an attachment to them despite knowing that you were merely adopted. That they had provided you with the support you need to always have an out from him, a way to escape his grasps, someone waiting for you on the outside. You shouldn't have any relationship outside of him - he was all you needed, all you would ever need.

In his mind, it will always be none other than your adoptive family's fault that you would never truly understand him and the hellish childhood he had: being abandoned in an institution, finding out his own mother hates him, having to lose Shinichiro to Mikey. No, they were only treating you so well and so nicely because they were out to get him, to take you away from him, like how Shinichiro was stolen from him. If only those shitheads hadn't had such a soft heart, Izzy wouldn't be stuck in this position for having to break your heart for you so that you learn to rely solely on him.

‎‎

This baby boy would do anything to make you return his love and cling on to him as much as he does to you, because Izzy isn't sure how he can keep going if you ever left him - there was no life or future without you, no reason to keep breathing. No doubt that one of the ways he would use would be to hold your comparatively privileged childhood over you to emotionally manipulative you.

Constantly reminding you of how much better you had it compared to him whenever he felt that you were trying to stray away, how privileged and comfortable your childhood was, and that you must be looking down on him for having to live it rough. And that yes because you had this and that that your kind adoptive parents generously gifted to you, therefore you would never understand. You didn't know how much he suffered, and you must hate him, but if you really loved him you would do this for him.

‎

You would never understand the sort of hurt he had to go through, but that was alright: this white-haired baby boy isn't prepared to let you live through that sort of pain. The two of you will never be lonely ever. But before he could give you the world for the two of you to live out his dream life together, Izzy had to first punish your adoptive parents for what they had done to him. Has them killed in a manner that would seemed like it was an accident as early as he can pull it off, because even though he would like to see them tortured, he would rather not have you find out and run from him.

And then of course he will be there at your side to lend you a shoulder to cry on once the dust had settled. You would be his and entirely his - isolated, alone, and with nowhere else to go. Don't you understand? Izzy will love you more than your so-called family ever will: he was your one and only true family after all.

[melancholicstation]

god & monsters — bobby f. kennedy

taglist: @jackiesgirl @callmeaftersupper @astro-vibes-bro @lamperry4ever @darcyspirits @absurdlyvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @fortheloveofjos @superzealouscollectordetective @remotewatch @bleatngheart @starsprangledgirl @hisamericanmuse @kimcrystal123

summary: On an October eventide, you are invited to an ordinary Halloween eve soirée. You contract a horrible affliction, a yearning of the heart to end all those before it. All because of your serendipitous meeting with a certain camel haired mortal named Robert “bobby” Kennedy in the grass. For the only the birds and the bees bore witness to what lecherous things you both did with each other on the mead….

tags: 18+ but warning will be given ahead, tiny bit of blasphème sorryyy, rough s*x, fucking in the grasslands, cheating, explicit language, bee sting as repentance, infidelity, you are married but bobby is not.

words: 4,142

my linking should not serve as how you have to imagine this story/world if you do not wish to, these are simply just where I draw personal inspiration.

October 30th 1966

The solitary confines of the seventeen-century estate, all its Provençal grace stood tall unbothered by the many people going in and out of the homestead. Like a glamour queen it seemed entirely unfazed by the many important people within its walls: senators, governors, princesses of niche European constitutional monarchies just to name a few. Now you may be thinking what do all these people have in common? well each got the most coveted invitation to a halloween party hosted by America's very own royal family, or at least that's what The Life Magazine said in their glossy spreads, more specifically the forgotten american prince: Robert F. Kennedy.

And that's exactly how you got here as well. A short week ago you received that same invitation and shared it with your husband: Charles. Charles your husband has been, for years now, vehemently set on a career in politics. Though the farthest had gotten in terms of that had been holding a temporary assistant position at a republican running for state senate. But, turns out grab-handing and meandering around your fair-share of important people eventually you see the benefits. This invite, in Charles head was looking like a decadent, chocolate-covered benefit.

You cringe inside at the thought of chocolate, you've seemed to have a direct affliction to chocolate after a particular 1964 family Christmas in which your husband had had the marvellous idea of bringing his mistress, Kamila, over for Christmas Eve desert. Not like a total unmannered slob, as you would've much preferred, Kamila brought a milk chocolate and toasted hazelnuts bar engraved with a sentence "wishing wealth and prosperity". How gouge. Since then the mere thought of chocolate, or toasted hazelnuts for that matter has utterly repulsed you.

To you this invite was another hellish routine of domestic purgatory. In which you'd smile while dodging questions on why you and Charles hadn't started a family yet with a persistent yearning gnawing, clawing, burrowing in your chest.

"in the land of gods and monsters...

Now parties like the one stamped on the worn card stock weren't all bad. Once you'd met a particularly enticing couple looking to shake up their sex lives with a third. Quite a modern idea you'd thought for the sixties but hey it was eleven pm and the champagne was flowing, and more importantly free.

For the past few days you've been passively doing once, twice-overs on your closet trying to drum up what costume you could make out of the items you already had. High society halloweens were strange in a way. On one hand you would be looked down upon for not dressing up: with people assuming you think yourself to good for such things, on the other if you dressed up in a way unbeffiting of the status you'd be quietly heckled from across the ballroom. You inspected the address on the card more closely, surely there's no ballroom in—you squint your eyes—Château d'Estoublon. Okay, maybe it did have a ballroom if anything was to be indicated from the name. Château d'Estoublon was the creme da le creme of prime-time property in Massachusetts so you were passively excited to gawk at the beautiful exterior.

You decided on recreating Empress Elisabeth of Austria's, or as she'd began to be commonly called 'Empress Sissi', court wedding gown when she married Emperor Franz Joseph. In your eyes it fit the bill, the costume was still playful in its callback to a glamorous Hungarian empress but not so out there that you would look out of place in a billowing cream gown. No doubt many would overshadow you with their elaborate gowns but you didn't mind going understated for the night, you never really felt comfortable 'peak-cocking' like the rest of high society woman did. Though sometimes you wish you did.

,i was an angel looking to get fucked hard...

As you placed the delicate undergarments over your body: a white chiffon one piece - with knickers, linked by satin ribbons and floating chiffon back panels, a gift from a quite eager French man in the fifties. You used to be so encumbered by sexual need and carnal desire, catching the eyes of many: you missed that feeling and you desperately wanted it back. Cutting through the bullshit and to be quite frank you hadn't been truly screwed in about 7 years. Initially the desires of you and Charles had been unendingly compatible, but that compatibility had wavered after marriage and deteriorated like a good piece of cashmere out in the hay bales. Now up until 1964 Christmas you were under the impression that Charles was going through a dry spell and that you would come together soon enough. What you didn't realise was that in fact your husband was not going through a dry spell, no, no quite the opposite. It seemed he was drowning in the orgasmic sap of any woman he could find on his office floor.

If someone had asked you questions on the topic of infidently 10 years ago you might've said some sanctimonious crap on its moral qualms. But now after being routinely cheated on, you finally started to play his game, not often, but play his game all the same when you did.

,like a groupie incognito, posing as a real singer...

Looking at yourself in the baroque gold mirror, an audacious housewarming gift from Charles older brother, you surveyed yourself from the top. Your skin was perfection: slightly unnervingly pore less like those haunted 18th century dolls, your under eyes amazingly betrayed no defining clue that you barely get fours hours of sleep a day. Moving to your décolletage: it was well nourished after a sebum upper body mask wrap last week, beautifully reflecting the breastplate Galliano necklace. Speaking of spa's, funnily enough as a last-ditch effort you had booked a couple spa appointment for you and Charles. Unsurprisingly he didn't show but as fate would have it, another young woman of the name Catherine had done the same with her husband and he hadn't shown either. Incidentally you both wanted to make the most of it and decided to step in for each others husband's. By the strange hand of luck, Kit and her husband had to been invited to the Kennedy Halloween party. Hey, at least you'd have an ally. Moving down your body you'd picked an ivory, red, and gold embellished haute Dior gown as the base of your dress, and billowed it out using a tiered satin padded chemise to mimic Sissi's grand wedding gown. Matched with simple white pumps passed down from your mother.

Despite your pitiful nagging for him to dress as Franz Joseph I so you'd match, Charles decided not to and instead dressed in the polite yet deeply boring combination of a: twill bow tie, vest, backstrap trousers and wool tipping jacket. With a swift look up to you, nothing but a polite smile and a hand on the small of your back, you were both out of the door and into the car.

The first hour of the party proved to be exactly how you expected... pretty boring, vainly you caught the sight of your reflection in the many mirror of the chateau just to keep yourself occupied. You applied a thin, balmy layer of pink blush via a colour stick and applied a hint of lilac hue across the span of your fluttering eyelids, combing your brows back into submission with a pencil. Counting the creeping in wrinkles and frown lines, despite you only being 31, maybe it was all in your head. You looked down at your costume, how sadly fitting. You'd chosen this costume based on a book you'd read on the empresses life during her marriage to Joseph, you'd read her undying battle with an obsession with beauty. And in that way you related to her, in a dying marriage you grapple with anything to have control over. As said as it was you looked forward to the beauty regimes you scheduled and the sacred-rituals you performed on your hair, because it was something entirely your own.

,Life imitates art...

Just as you were about to entire a self pitying comparison between you: an upper-class sixties socialite and the empress of Austria, you see a saving grace in the form of a face. Catherine, finally you thought, what was taking her so long?

Catherine, a woman of striking features and long black-hole like dark hair, "Hey Stranger" she says while brushing an unruly curl from the perimeter of my face with a motherlike tenderness. Speaking of mothers, Catherine brought her 9 month old baby along to the halloween festivities, whom I already known was coming as she'd been complaining to me about how hard it was to find a babysitter to stay after 6pm!

After fussing over Catherine's beautiful velvet tea-length gown and her impossibly adorable babe with wiggling feet and grabby, powdered limbs who had throughly enjoyed your 5 minute game of hide and seek with your manicured fingers in Chanel's shade phénix. Surely enough the guests, including you and Catherine, were all herded like a cattle of sheep into the expansive dining room, suffocated by eighteenth-century French tapestries covering each wall.

First, pisanelli served over friselle crisp bread. Then, a cabbage soup and chou farci. Canned fish and tomato for a side. For desert, pavlova with strawberries, créme anglais and fig-leaf whipped cream. As you took in the delicious aromas, checking in Catherine's baby only to see the bottom of her face beaming with a smile and absolutely covered in the fig-leaf whipped cream.

I don't really wanna know what's good for me...

What was odd however, was not the delicious food, but the absence of the host of the halloween party, Robert F. Kennedy. You had seen some of this family members around, seen Teddy and even the mysterious Jacqueline Kennedy.

Though maybe he was a recluse, hosting parties to keep up the Kennedy name. You didn't pay much mind to it and continued to eat your food.

Hours later, moonlight had descended over the chateau and you, Catherine and her babe had moved under an outside pergola. It was due for the babes feed and Catherine, justifiably, felt uncomfortable revealing herself to a bunch of snobby strangers so the outside it was. In camaraderie you had chosen to forgo the alcoholic beverages on offer and instead bode for a glass of non-alcoholic punch. But looking back down at the punch, after a long chat with your friend, the cup had been drained.

"I'm gonna go over and fill me up another one of these, do you too want anything while I'm up?" gesturing to the smiling mother and babe.

Catherine politely declines and fakes her babe waving to me as I depart the table by waving the sweetlings tiny arms back and fro, to which you childishly giggle in return.

As you traipse through the beautiful grasslands of the estate you come across a large set of oak tables, reminiscent of old-school desks. But instead of notebooks and pens, the tables were now used to display freshly baked breads with individual ribbons on them. A parting gift for the evening no doubt.

God's dead, I said, "Baby, that's alright with me"...

Rounding a stone arch you see a man shrowed in the most beautiful darkness. A kind of darkness that makes you swear of light and go nocturnal simply to marvel at his beauty. His beauty rivalled that of the Gods. His beauty shall live forevermore. His movements are strange until you realise the purpose behind his actions. His large hands peeling open a tuna can, and patiently beckoning a black cat his way. A cat that seemed to be very familiar with the figure as it immediately came and sat at the feet of the man: sapping up the canned tuna.

Though the man has his back to you, you faintly recognised the puffs of smoke coming from his delicate fingertips, could be a hand model this guy! you joke with yourself to starve off the reflex to call out to the mysterious figure. You stare for a creepy amount of time, fitting for the date you guess.

"Sissi right? Empress of Austria" the man calls out in the dark, now his body has turned to your direct attention. And to your surprise it's not just another Harvard graduate with a good back profile, it's the host of the evening: Robert fucking Kennedy.

You stammer out a "Yes-yes, well I've gotta make use of these dresses somehow." An awkward silence grows, as Bobby looks to the moon-cast sky as if he's pondering what to say next

"Sorry I'm very, very rude to not have introduced myself--I'm Robert Kennedy"

"Oh I know who you are"

"You do?"

"Yes sir, quite intimately if reading the New York Times is any metric of intimacy" you halfheartedly chuckle.

"Funny girl. Now funny girl can I get your name perhaps?"

"Y/n"

When you talk, it's like a movie...

"Ravishing" he says in a tone that you can only comprehend as a little teasing but yet kind.

Moments pass as you chit chat about the nights festivities, with him asking you how you felt about the 3-course meal provided, and ask about why Kennedy as a devout catholic decides to throw a halloween party. You politely compliment his choices--

"Oh I didn't choose them. It's all my secretary she's the real brains of this party anyway--she should be here somewhere" bobby states as he looks towards the periphery of the garden.

"Well she has lovely taste, speaking do you know where I could find a bottle of coke? Y'know I saw them about in one those iced buckets but it's location has completely passed me by."

And you're making me crazy...

"I know exactly what your talking about follow me Mon bébé"

The French term of endearment makes your heart flutter, but you simply assume that for these Kennedy men endearment is given out dime a dozen.

You follow him like an obedient cattle dog, catching the stare of bobby as he turns his head to look at you every few moments to make sure you're still there. Some would find that creepy, that you're sure of, but to you it seemed be an unconscious thing for Robert--seemingly not believing in himself to make someone stay.

On the walk you began to become curious on how Robert got your costume so lightening quick "You read up about Emperors and Empresses of Austria or what? How'd you get it so fast"

'Cause life imitates art...

Robert chuckles, looking down slightly "No--Nah, I-I did some reading on them during the Vienna summit. Y'know cause jack wouldn't let me into the meeting, he thought I'd embarrass him or something, so I just had to wait outside. And I don't really like waiting all that much so I went down to the local bookstore and rented a few, took them back in the morning."

You nod and feel slightly taken aback at the mention of his brother, he discussed his brother with nearly no one. No one in the press at least. The last time you could remember bobby talking about his brother directly was that Democratic National Convention in 1964, looking like a wounded deer.

You aren't able to sit in that stupor for too long because you've come to arrive at the coke's, all the bottles laid beautifully in a bucket of decadent, some would say over the top amounts of crushed ice.

While Robert grabs the drinks, you fumble inside the pockets of your dress to find your compact, opening it to inspect the state of affairs on your face.

Robert grabs two: one for you and one for him, you don't miss that he grabs yours before ever thinking of himself.

If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?...

"Shoot!" you say under you're breath: you'd just realised in that moment that you would one hundred percent smudge your lipstick if you drank that coke, and then you'd have to continue the party looking like an absolute idiot because you'd forgotten to pack the lipstick in your clutch.

"What's the matter?" Robert says with a father figure-like concern, despite not having any children: at least to your knowledge.

"Oh it's nothing really I just realised I can't drink this 'cause of my lipstick"

"O-oh okay" Robert stumbles out as he looks up at the sky again, seemingly deep in thought. He does that a lot you think.

Bobby bumbles out "Well if it wouldn't make you to-to uncomfortable. I could Y'know feed you the drink so you don't mess up your lipstick--if you want of course"

You tell me, "Life isn't that hard"...

Taken aback slightly, due to the intimacy of the offer, you freeze for a few seconds but ultimately agree to his proposition. You trust him, a man you've just met today and formally only seen on the news stands, for some bovine reason.

Before you knew it he delicately placed curling, like a willow tree in the string, finger and cupped your chin: pouring the kola nut coloured drink down your oesophagus. Despite the strangeness of the position you two were in it felt right. It felt like what you'd imagined married life to be: the person you love more than anything filling you, and you filling them in return, both metaphorically and literally.

18+ AFTER THIS POINT

There was a certain erotic substance of being feed you'd learned in these past moments. I felt thirsty for him, for his hands, for this chest barely concealed by the Japanese cotton sweater he donned, for his musk that was like if tuberose had been carried on by the sea breeze, for anything and everything you'd be so lucky to receive from him.

I had someone who was hungry for me. I could see it in his eyes, robin's egg blue coloured eyes, as he feed me the coke.

And I was equally, if not more, much more hungry for him. Starved.

He paused the flow of the drink, in order to stop me from completely choking: at least one of us had kept our whits about us.

The hand on your chin never leaves, it lingers and lingers and lingers. My god you are such a fool for a man you've didn't know 12 hours ago.

He catches your eye, looking ever so pensive.

"Do you wanna go messin' around with me, cause I can take you back it's no pressure. I assure you there's no need to give the host any favours" he says in a timid tone expecting, almost wanting to be proven right: that'd you leave. That you'd desert.

"I think we should fuck. Do you think we should fuck?" you say in an incredulous tone, you'd never assumed this kind of attitude but his being had brought it out in you. This carnal, caged animal, woman scorned desire bubbling inside you like a pot of Turkish tea over the stove.

"Yes-yes well I think it's a great idea to fuck actually. It seems like a very good idea in my opinion. Y'know as a U.S senator." his slight arrogance, drunk with power disposition could've scared you. But it really didn't at all, in fact it enticed you to him even more.

All of a sudden, he grabs the skin of your neck and kisses you almost punishably: trying to communicate where have you been hiding for all these years? why didn't we find each other sooner? why have you left me alone?

Messy top lip kisses turn into feverish French and soon you're traipsing further into the countryside of the chateau. He seems to know his way around here: you don't even want to think of the rendezvous he probably has had here.

He leads you to a short alcove in the forrest with tree stumps and a billowing willow tree shielding it from the cruelness of the outside world. A cocoon of sorts.

"Is that a bee's nest"

"No, it used to be but it's been barren after they migrated in the summer. Relax, no one with be able to see not even the bee's. Promise."

You get situated on the ground when Robert drops a bombshell question out of complete left field

"You married?"

"No, are you?"

"No--well not in the real sense, not how marriage is supposed to" Hey maybe that was a bend of the truth but it wasn't a lie, I mean really was it?

From that assurance he immediately pounces on you like a Burmese tiger. His wandering, yearning hands scour your body looking for something you're not quite sure of yourself.

He seemed to like to assume a more dominant position so you let him have his way with you, for so long you had had to hard-shelled around men. But with Robert he had this aroma that just made you want to show your soft underbelly to him, wanted him to care for it like he cared for you.

He manoeuvred both himself and you to be on your sides, your back to his chest. And slowly dipped it in. At first it was only the start, almost knocking at your door: begging to be let in, to get at whatever was inside. And so you welcomed him in the only way you knew how. He wasn't aborally big but he fit like those perfect pair of white tennis shoes that have been worn out just the right amount. His being felt like a return.

"Fuck yeah, give it to me you braves mädchen (good girl in German)"

"I'm giving it. Want to give everything to you, take it from me. Robert, take it all from me now."

His hips moved at a pace that showed a man who aimed to please. A man who aimed to please you, beyond the confines your physical existence.

"This is heaven. This is what they meant" I finally got what made people so devout. They found something to believe in, and in that moment I had to. In that fallen angel taking the form of Robert Kennedy.

Just before his climax, Robert switched positions hoisting your body to now be facing him. A sweetness to the fact that he wanted to share this moment with you, to make sure you didn't feel alone. As he climaxed he reached pitifully at you, pawing but with the determination that he wasn't done until you had gone over that wonderful edge as well.

Soon came your time, and went it came it was the epitome of that beautiful fall from grace. In your bliss you hadn't noticed that Bobby did not share the look he donned just a minute ago. He looked quite concerned, gazing upon the valley of your breasts.

God he's such a man, you thought. But once you looked down you saw a pretty nasty wasp bite right between your two breasts. You weren't all too bothered as you'd experienced stings before: Bobby however looked abjectly terrified. Fumbling through the pockets of the little clothes he kept on to see if he could aid the pain of the sting.

"Bobby It's just a wasp sting. Don't mind it"

"Well I should mind it, You're hurt. Plus now i'm gonna have to explain to the John Jr's night nurse why in the hell I need bee sting supplies at 12pm"

"It's fine, it'll pass" your face betrays that it's not quite fine in the moment. As your post-orgasmic bliss fades and the pain pentrates you.

"No-no, that just won't do. Tell you what we're going to do: we're going to go hop in my car and drive to the clinic and see what they say. It looks pretty nasty honig." (honey in German)

"There's that German again when did you learn that?"

"About five or six, truth be told I stole the language books from Eunice room. She never used them anyway."

Bobbys moves to gather his things and looks at you expectantly.

"Y'know it's kind of funny. Those bee's haven't been seen for months around the likes of here."

"Maybe they wanted to punish me"

"Now what would a girl like you ever do that needs punishing, huh?"

"Nothing" you say innocently. Bending the truth be damned.

"Damn straight." Bobby says with a killer smirk, responding to your held up hands by hoist up and over his shoulder. Crassly patting the flesh of your bum.

"Hey shouldn't the host stay till the end of the party?"

"Nuh-uh. Not tonight they shouldn't." bobby says still carrying you upside down.

The blood rushes to your head. You've never felt so alive in your life.

It's innocence lost Innocence lost

the end.

[quinnyundertow]

Ahhhhh the commission I ordered for “When I catch you Gege” Chapter 6 was just completed! So excited! Yuta and Junpei ❤️❤️ Art done by the amazing @elsartzz

Excerpt from Chapter 6

It took every fiber of your being to not follow him the last twenty feet to the shed. You doubled over gasping heavily trying to catch your breath from the long sprint. You could hear the sounds of Junpei being beaten as the door to the shed was ripped from the sliding track it was on. Your eyes were wide in shock as the metal doorway was thrown through the air like a scrap of paper in the wind. The weight of it only showed when it crashed to the ground and impaled itself into the mud of the grass field.

Various yells of surprise were heard at the dramatic opening of the supply building before the sheer chaos of hell itself devolved in front of you. Hellish screams escaped through the now gaping maw of the open entry. Pure unbridled fear escaped the men who had beat Junpei as Rika laughed hysterically. You heard the crunch of bones and the squelch of flesh being pounded into the ground. One of the men tried to make a break for it. He appeared from the shed in an attempt to escape retribution. He had almost made it into the light of the outside world when a massive white hand reached out of the dark and clasped itself around the man's leg. Black nails punctured into the fat of the bully’s calves as the special grade curse Rika dragged him back into the interior darkness screaming. His face twisted in terror as his hands scrabbled against the dirt uselessly before he disappeared back into the shed.

A moment later, from the darkness emerged another form. Junpei came flying out of the pitch black, his outfit damaged and his face bloodied from the beat down the bullies had given him before Rika and Yuta emerged into the dark. Upon seeing him you started crying, calling out his name. His eyes met yours as he startled at you being here. You rushed into him throwing your arms around his neck before burying your face into his shoulder. He looked down at you. The fear he felt mixing with new concern and confusion, “Y/n? What are you doing here?! We need to get out of here!”

Junpei’s arms wrapped tight around you as you sobbed into him, “It’s okay Junpei, that’s my friend Yuta. I’m so sorry we were late, I almost failed you again.” Junpei froze his face in an expression of awe as he looked back towards the small shack.

Only silence was heard from the shed now. It was broken by Yuta in a cold and remorseless tone, “If you or anyone else so much as looks at Junpei the wrong way again you won’t escape with your lives.” There were some noises of understanding in the form of moans before Yuta emerged from the shed back into the light. A smattering of blood was on his white school shirt and on his cheek, his clothing only slightly ruffled.

Junpei stared wide eyed at the newcomer as you turned your crying face from where it hid in Junpei’s shoulder to look where Yuta stood. “That’s…your friend?” Junpei asked speechlessly.

You nodded into his chest, your arms letting go from around his neck to wrap around Junpei’s middle tightly. “Junpei, are you okay? I was so scared, did they hurt you badly?”

You and Junpei had your eyes on Yuta who stood somewhat awkwardly in the background. Yuta tried to make his expression disarming with a small smile, his eyes closed. It didn’t really work considering the blood covering him and Rika’s ominous presence; but Yuta couldn’t look more beautiful to you than he did in this moment.

Junpei returned his gaze to your tear stained face. He flushed hard at the concern for him he saw there. A heat went through him as your body pressed tightly up against his own. “Y/n, listen, don’t cry, I'm okay. They’ve done way worse before. Besides, your friend made sure that won’t happen again…”

You nodded, sniffling, letting Junpei go reluctantly before you moved towards where Yuta stood. Rika lurked behind him a wide grin on her face as she examined her claws sprayed with blood. You looked at Rika first knowing she had done the brute force of the job, “Thank you Rika.” You bowed to her in gratitude. You turned to Yuta now, fresh tears starting to fall at his kind expression, “Thank you Yuta.”

He smiled down at you before putting a hand on the top of your head, “Hey, everything is okay now. Please don’t cry.” He lifted his other hand to your cheek to use his thumb to wipe the remaining tears off your face. “You did a great job Y/n we made it just in time.” the hand on your head stroked your hair lightly in reassurance.

You nodded, turning slightly to include Junpei, “Junpei this is Yuta, the friend I wanted you to meet.”

Junpei nodded behind you before bowing in gratitude as well, “Thanks..”, the fear from earlier was no longer in his expression, just a deep curiosity. This shouldn’t surprise you given Junpei had a similar reaction to Mahito killing his bullies in the theater in a much more violent way. Junpei looked down at his feet before continuing, “Can you teach me how to do that?”

Yuta blinked in surprise, shocked that the new boy wasn’t terrified of him. He barked out a laugh in response before saying, “No clue, but I guess we can find out together.”

[day-drawn-blog]

Part IV: There is more to do and I still want to live

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

Part IV - LOTS of angst and sadness and jealousy and fluff.

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI : these ain't my sins, I' broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII: your blood like wine, invites me in

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

----------

The next morning you woke up. It took you a while to remember last night. You gasped and turned around. Your bed was empty. You were the only one. Your nocturnal visitor had vanished into the night air. Was he even there last night, or did you dream it all? Somewhere in the corner of your turbulent heart, you knew, he had gone back to his paramour. Which was not you. Before the pain of that thought drove you mad, you decided to distract yourself. After all, he never made any promises to you.

Time to get on with it.

The day was weary. You were finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the air between Shadowheart and Astarion. Every glance they shared, every smile was laced with poison for you. You prayed and hoped this would pass. You were the hero. You were the one who would lead them to safety, to the end of this perilous journey. It was a quest for salvation for all of you. And then you were all ambushed.

Time to focus on violence.

That should get your mind off of them. Except, Shadowheart was cornered, and while Astarion was supposed to target another, he defied the plan - to shoot at her attacker leaving himself open to a powerful spell that inflicted several wounds on him. He fell from his station. Drops of his blood splattered on Shadowheart's pale pretty face, down from where he stood.

Your heart had stopped.

Shadowheart shrieked, naturally to see him in pain so. Instantly she cast Santuary on him and incinerated the enemy with her radiance spell. You could feel her vengeance in the intensity with which she cast her spell. They then proceeded to embrace each other, her trying to heal him, and him finding solace in her arms.

You felt your world go blank.

Was there really a point to any of this? What was it, again. Your vision blurry, everything seemed to have slowed down. Or maybe just you. Karlach and Wyll were nearby. Flashes of spells and clash of swords. That's all you heard. Reckless abandon. That is what you wanted to feel. To make it worth something. To be seen, maybe. To be valued, to be needed. Or not be needed at all.

You cared not for your spell magic. It was time to feel the rage delivered through your own hands. Slashing, kicking, swinging your pact weapon. The feel of hitting a mortal enemy, splattering of blood around you. you could hear Karlach yell. Why? Oh, is that blood? Is that yours? Somebody bludgeoned you. Because being able to hit, meant being able to take a hit. Another punch to your face. This one you felt. You lost your footing.

This was fun.

Bring it on. See what I got. I will give it back to you. I have seen worse. I have felt worse. I have nothing more to lose. I will take you down with me. That's what raced through your mind. You hit harder, faster and with more venom than before. Killing with your own hands. You never enjoyed it before. Where is this rage coming from. You were no barbarian. You could feel the Hellish Rebuke coursing through your own body. you hit. And was hit back. Thrown back. Several times you landed on the floor. And got back up.

And then you felt hot. Warm. You had been hit with a fire spell.

You heard Wyll yell out. You could feel Karlach going into Rage. You knew the battle was won. You smiled, and you fell. For the last time that day. The last thing you remember seeing was Karlach cradling you, and Astarion running towards you from the distance. You couldn't make out what his face looked like. "Serves you right. Watch your only source of food disappear." you thought. You smiled, even if you were in pain.

The next thing you remember is Karlach nursing you in your tent.

Everything hurt. Pain all over. Wrapped in badages all over. You wondered what went down after your...recklessness. Karlach seemed really sad. Worried. "Thank the gods you are awake! What were you thinking?!" You smiled weakly. "Laezel has been going on and on about how impressed she was with your battle field prowess. "Ah.. Laezel, she would be...I'm glad".

After much fussing by Karlach, and Gale, and Shadowheart and basically everyone, who came to express their concern and relief or awe in your battle prowess or chastise you for your recklessness, you were relieved to get some quiet time. In which you wondered, where was the man, who mattered the most.

Typical. A vampire, only thinks of himself. and then suddenly, you remembered the look of pure horror on his face as you blacked out. But was he impressed? Was he worried? Did you get, ....his attention at last? You needed to know, if you were seen, at last.

If you mattered. To him. At all.

You decided to trudge outside in the cool night air. Everyone was finally asleep from all the exhaustion. It was a clear sky. Perhaps it is a great time to find a nice little piece of nature all to yourself. To take in the solitude.

You walked, slowly in the quiet night.

A little away from camp, you saw a shadowy figure. Almost predatory, walking towards you. Unmistakable.

So there he was.

He wasn't with shadowheart tonight? Maybe he had gone to hunt since, you weren't available. Your heart skipped a beat. There he was, out hunting. Was he scared he almost lost you? Was he finally worried about you? You wondered how the conversation would go. You had no idea why you did what you did, nor how he would react. You braced yourself.

But he said nothing at all.

He approached you. His face shone briefly in the moonlight. His eyes were cold. His shoulders brushed yours but he didn't stop. His glance was smouldering. Steely. But he said not a word and walked straight past.

You watched his back, through the light and darkness. Wait. You wanted to know, what he felt... "Are, you ... okay, Astarion? I saw you getting hurt earlier." Silence. Then he stopped and turned. You could hear your heart beat.

"Me? I am very glad to be alive you see. I do not want to just, end it all. Despite what my life has been so far, I still want to live." he looked at you with disdain.

You were taken aback.

You had been chastised by Wyll and to some extend Shadowheart, for your recklessness. But why did this one, cut through your heart?

"That's not... what I was ... "

But, is that what you were doing? Or is that what he thinks you were doing. Either way, you felt, ashamed. You would surely never. You had promised to be the Hero and Savior to others who needed saving. You wanted to love those that needed it. No. He was not right. It was not true. You won't let it be true.

You found your voice.

"Is that what you think I was doing? ha. I bet you got all worried, thinking your only source of higher blood would disappear. isn't it?" Your voice was laced with bitterness.

"And is that what you think of me?" His face was in the shadows. You could not see the glare in his eyes, but you could feel the disdain in his voice. "Well, in that case, maybe it is time for our nightly trysts to come to an end".

No. I didn't mean that.

You felt gripped by a sudden fear. No. Do not cast me aside. That is my only use to you. Do not take that away from me too. Please. That is not what I meant or wanted. That is the only time you look at me. You know of my existence. Only way I am needed by you. Only time I am wanted by you. No. You could feel tears choking you.

You couldn't speak. So he turned and resumed walking back to camp.

You turned too and then you broke down. You could not stop your tears. You felt so sorry. So very sorry for yourself. You almost lost yourself today, for this man. Why? Did you just want to be seen that badly. Only to be thrown away entirely. You watched the tears drop on your hands, and you knelt on the ground with your hands propping you up. Nothing you did would ever matter.

This was the bitter truth you so desperately wanted to deny. You never mattered to begin with. You were nobody to him. And you almost died for him. How could you hate yourself so much? Why would you not value yourself. Was he worth all that? You will never be Shadowheart. For it is she, who was in his heart and mind. You were just a convenient transaction.

You felt warm hands, from behind.

Hands that held you up. As you cried your eyes out. You were held in an tight embrace. As if the person wanted to take all your pain away. The harder your cried, the tighter you were embraced. You were found, by someone. Someone was there. Someone cared. That's all that mattered to you at that instant. You didn't care who it was. You were grateful it was...someone. You absorbed all the warmth in their body, and you felt the support of their broad chest against your back, as they buried their face in your neck from behind.

You felt his soft caress on your neck.

You felt so happy, that you started crying even more. You felt eternal bliss, you felt cared for, seen and you felt loved. You felt wanted. Your yearnings, came rushing out in salted tears. You wanted to laugh and smile, but you cried instead. Tears of joy, if only you could tell him that.

"I am sorry. I did not know. I am sorry. What can I do. How can I help you, please tell me a way." he whispered. "I cannot see you like this. I need you. Yes I need you. But not for your blood. You are our salvation. You protect us. From our personal demons. And in Wyll's case, quite literally".

You finally laughed a little.

He loosened his grasp a bit at that. Realizing, that the worst may have passed. but he did not let go entirely. Still resting his head next to you, kneeling on the ground with you, he held on. "I will one day, somehow, give you a reason to live on. Something you will want to hold on to. I promise you. Can't you wait a little bit. I don't know what that is yet. But you have my word".

Those were the last words you heard that night.

Because your pain and exhaustion and happiness came crashing on you at once. You felt your consciousness slip away. You felt swpt up, carried. You heard Karlach on the way. "What did you do to her Astarion! You better not have hurt her! she was already in bad shape. Did you make her cry?! Why are her eyes so swollen?" You drifted to a very sweet dream that night. Content somehow.

Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known