#You bring her little dead mice and birds???

[bloodyarn]

» Wall Lurking .

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     ❝ Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh m . . . ❞     Was it not only a matter of time until things went downhill   ?   A severed arm. In her space.

Who even thought about sending her one  ?   Babette never spoke proudly from an adoration towards hacked off limbs.

 ❝ Who is missing their arm   ?   Gods, please, someone nudge it away . . . ❞

[bruciemilf]

I know this is a DC blog but I NEED dad Logan. Get that murder teddy bear some kids ASAP.

Fancast + non canon Headcanons ahead.

BOBBY MY BELOVED / 16

“Sure everything in my life is terrible. But at LEAST I’m gay”

Makes pop culture references Logan doesn’t understand. “Logan threw the first brick at stonewall” “what are you SAYING” “he’s an ally”

Can, will, and has gaslight Logan into thinking he’s homophobic just for not letting Bobby do what he wants

Stole a beer from Logan once and they found him drunk crying at 3 am. He calls Logan to apologize about it. “I’m sO sorryyy. You know I love you??” “Go to bed” “noOoo” Logan is next to him.

Has a secret YouTube channel and everyone watches for Logan interactions specifically

Mabel Pines coded

KITTY… that’s his half pint your honor. / 17

Logan is terrified. Why are you such an easy kid. Why aren’t you rebelling? Why isn’t defiance bleeding on your fists?

Why aren’t you clawing and biting and snarling for your freedom? Why aren’t you being a kid? Who do I have to skin-

Daughters are not supposed to exist quietly.

I hc that Kitty’s family is extremely unsupportive of her being a mutant, — but they’re just traditional in general. Specifically she’s petrified of being around/existing along men.

Certified babysitter when Logan’s not around. She’s so big sister.

“guys!1!11!!!! mr. Logan said not to do that!1!1!1”

Logan BEGS her to be a shitty teenager for like 10 minutes. Be bratty!!! Tell him to fuck off! Throw a tantrum!!!! “But I’m not a kid.” “You’re MY kid.”

JUBILEEE daddy’s girl / 15

Problem Child TM

Plays Rock n Roll by Avril Lavigne at 4 am to piss Logan and her siblings off when they annoy her

Grounded all the time but if she fake cries Logan will shamefully relent.

Always puts Logan’s patience to the test because she anticipates him leaving/giving up on her

Foster child with issues. She spent half her life looking for people and the other half being abandoned by them. This won’t be any different.

Except Logan is very good at fighting destiny.

Your honor I don’t CARE Logan is made to be a girl dad!!!!

“On the spectrum. Not saying which one”

STRONG she/they energy

Most affectionate with Logan out of all the kiddos. Her love language is terrible pancake making (Logan eats them anyway) and cat cuddling.

ADHD icon

LAURA (murder baby) / 7

Brings dead birds/mice to her family members (affectionate)

Charles has the bright idea to enroll her in school with the kids. “It’s important for children to socialize with peers their own ages.” “Can’t socialize if they’re all DEAD.”

That meme of the little boy and his father with an arrow in his shoulder

Youngest child privilege

Steals Bobby’s phone and shoot’s hilariously off angle family vlogs. One of them includes her stealing Logan’s motorcycle while he runs after her

[waddingham]

rebecca wants a pet

this is just a silly little ditty but here <3

Amongst all these things and more, he has learned that she does not do subtlety. Her opinions, thoughts, wants are shared unflinchingly, in a way he admires as someone who tends towards pleasing others over himself. She doesn't demand and criticize but simply shares herself with him – her opinion is always a prompt to hear his, her thoughts are little hands reaching out to know and be known by him, her wants passed along in hopes of him wanting too. And she makes it easy to respond in kind.

There's probably half a million things he's learned about Rebecca Welton in the first year of living with her. Big things and small things – she can destroy a bowl of berries and nuts in a matter of seconds. She has an almost frightening ability to hold her alcohol. She does a tiny bit of yoga everyday and those minutes of solitude are important to her. She loves him voraciously, would do just about anything for anyone in her club, and doesn't believe she will ever uncomplicate her relationship with her mother.

And because she so rarely employs subtlety, he doesn't think it's anything notable at all when she finds a new minor interest. 

"Look at this."

He turns his eyes from the TV to her, stretching an arm along the cushion as she scoots closer along the couch. She angles her phone so he can see – it's a video of a tabby cat with a mouthful of leaves, chirping as it crosses someone's yard. He grins at it, chuckling as it drops them and sits with satisfaction next to its contribution.

"She brings them a little pile of leaves everyday," Rebecca chuckles.

"Look at her go. Doin' her part."

"She's a good girl."

"Lot better than a mouthful of mice," he remarks.

She gives him a horrified look. 

"What?" he chuckles. "You never had a cat?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Have you?"

"There was an outdoor cat when I was growing up that hung around our house. My mom hated it 'cause she's scared to death of mice and loves the birds and he would come around with either one or the other dead in his mouth and leave it. Tryin' to get on her good side, I guess." 

She stares at him. "That's disgusting."

He laughs a little bit, tilting his head. "Yeah. He brought a bird up on the stoop once, still movin', and Mama was so mad, she smacked the back of his head for him to drop it. And he did. And then another little bird came flutterin' out of his mouth and flew off."

She shakes her head, a smile pulling at her mouth. "You're full of shit."

"I am not," he laughs. "Saw it with my own eyes. He was a big fella."

She snorts, looking back down at her phone. She stays close, leaning against his side as she scrolls on. 

It takes him a while to take notice of the running theme. They send all kinds of silly stuff back and forth – videos and pictures and jokes. She sends him screenshots of funny tweets she sees, sometimes about him or the team, sometimes just random things she thinks will amuse him.

But suddenly there's a very large uptick in cat videos. 

×××

She blames Keeley. It's Keeley's fault entirely.

She doesn't know what possessed her friends, if it was the influence of Phoebe or what, but they've adopted a cat – a beautiful, lithe, sleek one that could nearly be taken for a tiny leopard for its coloring. She's a lively little thing, playful and talkative, but she seems to adore Rebecca. When she goes over, she spends the length of her visit circling her feet or pacing her lap on the couch, purring like a fiend, pushing her head into Rebecca's palm.

And, goddammit, Rebecca likes it. She likes watching her prance around, flopping around on the floor for attention, just in general being entertaining and sweet. 

She sees them everywhere now – or at least is really noticing them as she scrolls through social media, seeing Leslie's sons posting videos of their new kitten and Keeley and Roy's little minx chasing her tail and random strangers with unnaturally gorgeous felines. 

She hasn't any idea how Ted feels about getting a pet. And normally she'd just tell him, have all her arguments outlined, or just recklessly show up with one one day, but they have quite literally just settled into living together. She doesn't want him to say yes just because she wants it and then hate it and hate taking care of it – she wants him to want it too. So she's going a little more insidious. Or trying to, sending out feelers by sending him cats and seeing what he says. 

She's not having much luck. He will aww and ooh, but doesn't express any disdain or desire to get one. Which isn't helping her.

"Who's idea was the cat?" she asks Keeley. 

"I wanted a dog and Roy wanted a cat," she says, stroking Camilla's back as she arches on the couch next to her. "But we settled on her 'cause she's so cool and active and spirited, she's like a low maintenance dog."

Keeley gives her a little grin. "You want one, don't you?"

"I do," Rebecca admits, scratching Camilla's neck as she crosses to her. 

"You guys should get one then," Keeley says. "They're so easy."

"I haven't asked Ted what he thinks yet," she says. 

"Well, I don't think he would refuse you anything, first of all," she says, sipping her wine. "And also how cute would he be with kittens all over him?"

"Stop," she says, tilting her head. "Or I'll show up at home with a box of them tomorrow."

Keeley giggles. "I think he would like a cat. Or a dog, but I would guess you–"

"I do not want a dog," Rebecca says. That's a lot more mess, care, and maintenance to jump right into when she's never even had a pet.

She hopes he wouldn't rather have a dog.

She supposes she's going to just have to bring it up outright – he's not catching on and she's already tired of trying to be slick about it.

×××

"Hey," he calls out when he hears the front door open. He gets one in response as she comes in, kicking her shoes off. She's earlier than he expected – she usually lingers late into the evening when she goes over to Keeley and Roy's.

He looks up at her from his sprawl on the couch as she rounds the sofa and immediately plants a knee between him and the cushions, crawling up and laying over him.

"You weren't gone long," he remarks as she settles herself against him, his arm landing on her back, her head on his middle.

"No," she sighs. "I left when Roy got back from his sister's. Keeley seemed…eager to be alone with him."

He chuckles, pushing his hand through her hair. "Well, cheers to them."

She giggles a little bit, rubbing a hand along his side over his t-shirt. She relaxes against him – the loveliest blanket he's ever had the pleasure to be covered with.

"I like their kitty," she remarks and he smiles.

"She's a lil' firecracker," he says. "Cracks me up."

She rolls her head until her chin is planted on his chest to look up at him. Her eyes are a little wide, eyebrows tipped up. 

"Can we get one?"

His smile grows as he tilts his head. He never would've taken her for a pet person.

"Sure," he says. He likes cats.

She almost scoffs, closing her eyes. 

"Of course you're going to be that easy about it."

He chuckles. "Do you want me to argue with you about it?"

"No, but I thought it would take at least a little convincing," she says and he squints at her a little bit. 

"Is that why you keep sending me cat stuff?"

She does scoff then, rolling her eyes. "Yes."

"Why?" he laughs. "What do you think I have against cats?"

"I don't know," she says, laying her head back down in exasperation. 

And since when does she do sneaky?

He chuckles again, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

"We'd have to go get some stuff," he muses. "But I remember Higgins saying he can't go to the pet store on Saturdays 'cause the shelter sets up with a bunch of kitties and he knows he'll go home with one. We could go then. Get the stuff and peek at the cats." 

"I already have everything saved to order online," she mumbles and he laughs.

"You could've just said something, Rebecca."

"I was trying to sniff you out first," she says. "But you gave me nothing."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles. "What kinda kitty do you want?"

"A soft one. Sweet one. Not so crazy as Camilla."

"Alright," he says. "Kitten?"

"I would like a kitten, I think," she says, lifting her head again to look at him. "Start from scratch."

"Okay, then," he smiles. "Sounds like fun."

×××

He didn't know what he expected when she said she had stuff saved, but he really shouldn't be surprised. The things that arrive over the next couple days look like something straight out of a housecat's dreams. A water drinking fountain and several very soft beds, toys, dishes, food that now has a shelf in the fridge, and, good lord, the litter box.

He just laughs when she sets it on the kitchen island. 

"It's automatic," she says, then lifts her hands, defending herself. "Do you want to do it? Because I don't."

He reads the side of the box, still grinning. "It connects to the WiFi?!”

"Oh, stop," she says. "Like I was going to skimp out on this."

"How much did this cost you?" he asks, looking up with a grin. 

"What does that matter?" she says innocently.

"C’mon, tell me," he says. 

"No."

He looks in the shipping box, spying an invoice and snatching it before she can stop him. 

"Give me that–"

"Seven hundred pounds?!" he says, laughing. "Oh my God, Rebecca."

"Stop," she says, swiping the paper from him, smiling at his teasing. 

"You know it's gonna poop in it right?" 

"Exactly. And then neither of us has to touch it."

"Now I feel like we're not adopting a cat but selecting one lucky winner to come live a life of luxury and refinement."

She laughs, wrapping her arms around the box, giving him a haughty look. 

"If you'll excuse me. I have a cat shitter to set up."

He chuckles, watching her go, but following after a few minutes to help her. 

×××

"I was excited, but now I'm just sad," she remarks as they walk through the narrow room. 

"Yeah," he laments. "Now I feel like adopting a nice round dozen or two."

"I think we'll have to start with one," she says, taking another step, giving the next cat its due attention. "Hello. Aren't you lovely?"

They wander through at a slow pace, having been told the kittens they have are at the far end of the room, but she stops at every cage, offering her fingers and compliments to each kitty. 

They don't make it to the far end – he didn't really expect them to. 

"Oh," Rebecca says, coming to a complete stop at a cage. "Oh, look at you."

The cat inside is a pale gray that fades into white at its paws and nose with long fur – not the longest they've seen, but longer than the shorthairs – curled up in the little bed in the corner.

"Oh, he's pretty," Ted says, stepping closer.

"How do you know it's a he?" she remarks, sticking her fingers into the cage, greeting the kitty. "Hello."

It lifts its head, peering at them with lovely gray blue eyes. He sticks his own fingers in, watching the cat take an interest, standing and stretching.

"Oh," Rebecca says sadly, and he turns to her, finding her reading the information card hooked on the cage. 

"Hmm?"

"'My loving owner died and I had nowhere to go'," she reads aloud. "'I'm an affectionate, easygoing kitty that enjoys lots of lap time.'"

She turns to him with a frown, then to the cat as they both feel him rub himself along their fingers. Ted curls his fingers into his soft fur, turning back to Rebecca, finding her watching the kitty with a little heartbreak in her eyes. 

"I like him," she says.

"I thought you wanted a kitten," he reminds her softly.

She doesn't respond, watching the little guy push his head against her knuckles. He steps around her, trading spots to read the rest of the card for himself.

"He's already ten years old," he says, sliding a hand over her back. He doesn't have a problem with it – he wouldn't mind an older cat, but she seemed set on a baby.

"I know," she says slowly, like she's realizing she's pretty much made up her mind. "But I think he deserves a nice retirement."

He smiles at her, watching the kitty sit close enough for Rebecca to brush her finger over the soft fur at his chest, primly adjusting his big white paws in front of him before curling his tail around. He peers at them, then lets out a soft little mow that has both of them chuckling.

"See, you agree, don't you?" she says. "You're a little sweetheart, huh? I didn't even look to see what your name is."

Ted looks, having skimmed over it too, smiling at what he finds. "Arthur."

"Arthur?" Rebecca chuckles. 

"What a name, huh? Who picked up this little guy as a sweet little puffball of a kitten, looked at him on the most exciting day of his life and then gave him the most old man name possible? I'm so sorry, buddy."

"Oh, stop," she says, scratching at Arthur's chin as she reassures him. "I think it's a great name. And I don't think Theodore has any room to talk."

He laughs fully at that, hearing Rebecca chuckle with him. "Well, that's me told," he says, squeezing her side, pulling her attention as she turns. "Should we see if somebody will open his cage up so we can meet him?"

She nods, giving him a bright smile.

×××

Of course they brought old Art home. And it doesn't even take two days before they're both absolutely smitten. 

He's taken to following them around curiously, as well as flopping and rolling against the shag rug in the living room. He'd been absolutely riveted by the dining room, chirping and chattering at the birds through the windows – to their endless amusement – and surveying the backyard as if it were new domain he's claimed. 

He's just adorable. And quickly growing very comfortable here. 

Clearly.

"Well, he didn't take long to settle in, did he?" he remarks.

Rebecca's laid out on the couch with Arthur stretched along her front, his head nestled against her chest, paws stretched toward her chin. He can hear the little guy purring from where he stands at the end of the couch as she strokes his fur from ears to tail, grinning with pure delight.

"And he found the best spot already."

She chuckles, bending her knees to make room for him to sit. Arthur lifts his head, eyes opening at being jostled. 

"Oh, relax," she mutters. "We share with Ted, alright?"

She lays her legs over his thighs as he chuckles. 

"I see you're having no trouble bonding with our new resident," he says as his arms stretches along the back of the sofa.

"Of course not," she almost coos, rubbing at Arthur's cheek. "And don't think I didn't see you carrying him around like a baby yesterday."

"Oh, c'mon. He was lookin' up at me and making the saddest little noise. And you know what, I ain't even gonna pretend I wouldn't die for him already."

She chuckles, holding Arthur's little face as he just purrs and purrs. "You hear that? You have Ted's eternal devotion."

"Christ, he looks more in love with you than I am," he muses.

She laughs at that, glancing up at him. "I'm pretty sure he's very happy to not be in that cage anymore."

Arthur stands at the disturbance, stretching his back before he traverses Rebecca's body to see what Ted has going on. 

"I think you made a good choice, darlin'," he says to Rebecca as Arthur just stands on Ted's thighs, pressing up into his hand as he strokes him. 

"I love him," she mutters.

He smiles as Arthur throws himself against Ted's abdomen, rolling in his lap.

"Me too."

×××

When she steps into the bedroom, she just has to grin.

Ted's lounging on the bed, scrolling his phone with Arthur cradled in his arm against his chest, dead asleep.

It's almost hilarious to think about now – that she was uncertain if he'd enjoy having a cat. More than half the times she comes upon him in the house, he's either holding or talking to Arthur. He carries him around like a little prince and he just purrs like a madman.

Maybe they didn't end up with a box of kittens, but it's still unbelievably cute. And she hates to disturb it, but, right now, she's going to.

She crawls up onto the bed, leaning on an elbow next to him.

"What's going on here?" she asks, scratching the top of Arthur's head, startling him if his little mrrp is anything to go by.

"He needed snuggled apparently," Ted says as he drops his phone next to him. "And I think I make a pretty good bed if I do say so myself."

"I can confirm," she nods. "But he might have to go."

Ted frowns at her, stroking Arthur's side almost protectively. "He's fine here." 

"Okay, but what if I'm trying to have sex with you?" she asks, watching Ted's brows lift again. 

"Ah, well, I think you're a little late," he says, gesturing to the cat. "I think I'm otherwise engaged for the evening."

She gives him a flat look, getting a little grin back. 

"Arthur, buddy, I think you're in danger," he whispers to the cat, who has no reaction whatsoever. Ted shifts him to get him up and he just lifts his head and glares at him, dead weight against his chest.

"Oh, c'mon man, don't do this to me," Ted chuckles as Rebecca pantomimes looking at a watch. "Look at her. Be a little wingman here, huh?"

He's unenthused as Ted lifts him up and leans to put him on the floor. 

"There," he says, immediately rolling into her until she's on her back, grinning up at him. 

"I'm all yours," he mutters against her neck, his hands immediately bunching her shirt to get to her skin. "Though you might have to work out a schedule with the little man."

She snickers, pulling him down hard against her with a leg, sliding her hands against his back as she catches his lips with hers. She hums as he grinds against her, the little fever in her core telling her this probably isn't going to be especially leisurely–

They both freeze at the sound of the sheets rustling. They look towards the end of the bed, where Arthur's jumped back up, ears pinned back, feet braced against the duvet. Before either of them can say anything, he dives forward, chasing nothing, then does a fast loop before freezing again. 

She can't help but snort when he looks back at them, eyes wild before he does another circle, then gets distracted with licking his leg.

"What is he doing?" Ted chuckles, then startles when Arthur spins and leaps at his toes.

"Oh, Jesus, man!"

She barks out a laugh as he jerks his foot away and she's in stitches as Arthur chases after it before finally doing another loop, leaping off the bed and sprinting out the door. 

"What the hell–" Ted laughs, turning back to her as she catches her breath, pulling him against her again.

"He's not the forgiving kind apparently."

"Who wanted a cat again?" he asks, his grinning mouth falling to her jaw.

"I did," she laughs. "And it was so worth it."

[wilcze-kudly]

Who is Pabu's favourite member of the Beifong family? Least favourite?

Hmmm.... that's an interesting question. I always kinda in my head assumed thay Pabu likes the Beifongs, specifically the Zaofu Crew bcs they have a lot of shiny things he can steal. I wrote a small blurb from Pabu's pov where I had him refer to the Beifongs as "magpies" because a lot of them flit around in the air (thanks to their wires), have long robes with billowing sleeves that kinda look like bird wings and tails and ofc are covered in shinies. (

I was gonna have him refer to Lin and the metalbending Police as large cockroaches due to their armour reminding me of bug carapaces, but decided it was too mean, soLin is just a... particularly crusty magpie.

Therefore I think he at least likes to steal from the Zaofu Crew. Any statue of Huan's that isn't bolted down or the size of a grown man will be dragged accross the floor. All of Wei's jewellery will mysteriously happen to appear under Bolin's bed (Pabu does take Wei's jewellery to Bolin specifically. Bcs he's a wingman). Suyin's trinkets and baubles will have little chewmarks on them, but she finds it endearing.

I think Suyin likes Pabu and lets him get away with mischief. She probably also sneaks him treats under the table which is very appreciated. She is Pabu's grandma lol.

Huan hated Pabu bcs Pabu disrespected his art. Up until the twins and Opal dipped Pabu's paws in paint and let him run around a blank canvas which moved Huan to tears as it was the deepest piece of self expression he'd ever witnessed.

I think Pabu likes Opal bcs he knows Opal is enamoured by him. I headcanon that Opal wanted a pet as a kid but Su said no because they already had Kuvira who is kinda like a rabid squirrel. So when Opal saw the adorable ball of fluffiness she immediately was smitten. And you KNOW Bolin trained Paby to help him rizz up people. She takes Pabu in the divorce.

Wing, much like Opal, also wanted a pet and he tries to play with Pabu all the time. He chases Pabu around a lot. Sometimes Pabu likes it. Sometimes he wants Wing to fuck off.

Wei is ambivalent to Pabu but will be broken down slowly as Pabu tries to wingman for Bolin. Wei particularly doesn't like when Pabu brings him dead mice.

I think Pabu is very inquisitive about Lin and will try to play with her often, much to her chagrin. He doesn't really understand tha Lin doesn't want to play with him, because Bolin and Pabu's play does seem to also involve a lot of grabbing and tossing. So everytime Lin tries to pry him off her or get him away he just thinks 'yay ☺️ playtime". Lin hates him dearly.

I think Pabu has a similar relationship with Toph, exept Toph actually likes him, since he kinda reminds her of Momo. Especially sincw she cant see the obvious visual distinction. Toph will roughhouse him and play with him pretending to dislike him but will secretly have so much fun.

Ahhh, some things never change.

Pabu canonically dislikes Kuvira...

... and I have no reason to believe he would be any kinder to Baatar Jr. He probably has baped Baatar's glasses off the table at least once while maintaining direct eye contact.

[this-is-fox-speaking]

@yami-yomiel wanted to hear about my little Marcel story... so here it is! though honestly speaking not at all little. the first part is entirely past written, but the second and third halves are entirely JUST written. aka spit balled.

Marcel had gotten a call-in about a mysterious black kitten. It seemed to be without a family or a home, hunting about the park and city for scraps of food or mice and birds. While trying to bathe it, though, it escaped like it was born to be a little escape artist. Marcel was already stubbornly tracking it down, so even when she was told to stay behind, she followed behind to try and find the cat, anyways. Come to find out, a couple days later, the cat's at the park! Marcel goes to find the cat, but.. instead, she comes across a fallen Mino, and a destroyed and crossed off section of the park. She finds the kitty crawling out towards her from a deeper part around the more forest-y area, and takes him back with her for a while, until.. he escapes one day. Instead of last time where it was clear how he escaped, this time it wasn't. It was like he just.. disappeared. After that, she doesn't try to find it again, but she remembers the very short nickname she gave it: 'Hollow'. A black cat with yellows eyes? Found in the middle of autumn? It couldn't be more perfect. It sucked that the cat seemed to suddenly not remember her, though, before it left. I imagine she starts meeting others like Lynne and Kamila from them taking in Missile over time. Marcel absolutely LOVES Missile, and thinks he's just the sweetest and bravest little baby. She never really meets Cabanela, at all.. probably unless he needed to take Missile for a wash to cover for Lynne. She doesn't mind him after a while.. this towns full of crazy characters. But that's why she kinda loves it! Over the next few years, this is her same usual routine- other than suddenly meeting a familiar black cat in the arms of a tall, blonde man. She smiles at the sight, even though she doesn't notice that it's a literal dead man walking. Maybe even talks to him for a little while. Everything in her daily life and routine is normal, mundane.. until the game starts taking place.

After the events of the game, it's almost the same story. A black kitten's called in, she tries to bathe it, it escapes. But this time when she goes to the park, the cat's not there. It feels.. wrong, somehow. But she chocks it up to mere disappointment that she couldn't find 'Hollow'. It's only a few years later that, when the cat happens to be on the shoulder of Jowd bringing in a puppy Missile, she actually sees it again. This time it's clear that the cat recognizes her, as the way it rubs against her hand when she pets it feels like.. a thank you. Apologetic? But she's probably reading it's eyes all wrong. How expressive could a cat really be? But she knows she's never seen this Jowd guy before. Shes dealt with a deja vu feeling for so long at this point but she's grateful to have something her brain doesn't seem to "already" know. A little bit more of time goes on, and she can't stand this familiar feeling anymore.. but one day it's solved when that little black cat comes into the store. It scratches at the door before Marcel finally opens it, gently questioning why and how it's here as she attempts to scoop it into her arms, but it immediately starts to run off. She attempts to chase it for a second, before the cat looks back at her. Expecting her to come closer.. to follow it, maybe? But she doesn't know why. She sets up a little closed sign before she makes her way behind the cat. It's a dumb idea, she knows, but somehow it feels like it's not only the cat beckoning her. She can't explain it. After being led to some weird jail- is this cop-owned cat trying to arrest her??- and a mysterious set of circumstances leading her to being able to get into the place, the cat leads her to a cell. A cell with a blonde man in sunglasses painting a large picture. He feels familiar. It tugs at her brain, harder and harder, until- it all comes back. She's frozen for a moment before it practically looks like her hair is spiking up with recognized.. annoyance? Its hard to describe, but her face is furrowed, and the strands of hair that seemed best described like animal ears curled down.

"..YOU!-"

After that whole debacle, with some small arguing and explanations from mostly Yomiel's end (who has had everything remembered quite a bit longer than everybody else), she visits him everyday. Now she can remember some old harbored feelings about him, from the older timeline. From how? When? Whenever I know what to write for that part. Honestly I haven't figured out her possible involvement DURING the game. She finds out about the real Sissel, finds out they're actually no longer together due to Yomiel's own decision. It surprises her- hasn't she been his leading motivation? Or.. had been, should she say? Overtime, as she continues to visit him whenever she can, mutual feelings fester and build again from that old life. Leading into modern day, where they're now happily dating! All thanks to a little kitty that felt like their old owner was getting a bit too sulky.

[rodolfoparras]

Fun fact. Ches likes to go outside and hunt. The first time she did she brought home a dead bird. But since the it's only been mice and some field mice idk what they're called but they're nice with long noses. And tonight she brought one home. (Last one was four days ago.) And she called for the babies. Only beanie is interested. She's been playing with it for a while now.

Im crying she’s bringing you and her babies little gifts 😭 I know the gifts are a bit of a jump scare bc my neighbors cat brought home a dead mouse at her door and I was walking down the stairs before I suddenly froze 😭also I love that she has at least someone to bond over that!!! Ches and bean for #huntersoftheyear!!

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Talkin' on a rusty swing set (a bird in your teeth)

This was written for couldbenyx's "A's Love Language Is Killing B's Enemies And Dropping Them At B's Feet Like A Cat Gifting Dead Mice" prompt for the Bulletproof exchange on AO3. Title comes from "I Know the End" by Phoebe Bridgers.

Contains references to death and gore.

AO3 (logged-in users only) | FFN | SquidgeWorld

~

"You need to stop," Darci said.

"Stop what?" Claire asked. She was in her human form, but her eyes glowed mischievously with purple and gold light.

"Stop bringing me the heads of your former allies!" Repairing their friendship had been tricky. They had grown apart when Claire had graduated high school as a sophomore, and then things had become worse when Darci had discovered that Claire was a changeling. If Darci had known that rekindling their friendship would cause this much frustration, she wasn't sure if she would have tried so hard to convince Claire to turn against Gunmar, the Janus Order, and her Lady Creator.

"Aw, is the brave trollhunter squeamish?"

Maybe a little, but Darci wasn't going to rise to the bait. "One of my dads is a cop. You know this. One day, he's going to see one of the heads -"

"- I thought opening mail was a crime."

"Not if it's leaking blood."

"Oh, please, I'm a professional. None of the heads I've given you have been dripping with blood. I'm not my Lady Creator." One of Claire's hands balled into a fist before the tension released itself from her shoulders. "In fact, sometimes the heads I give you is in troll form!"

"Fine. You haven't given me a bleeding head yet, but I don't trust you not to escalate the freshness. But anyways, one of these days my dad's going to see one of the heads before I can dispose of it - like you should be doing instead of giving them to me - and call on an investigation, and the entire trollish world will be exposed. Including both of us."

"You still haven't told him?" In Darci's junior year of highschool, the Amulet of Daylight had called her name and made her the Trollhunter. She was twenty now and had only let her secret slip to three people. Four if she counted Eli, but he had known bits and pieces about trolls before Darci found the amulet.

"Have you told your mom why her precious daughter decided to squander away the future she worked so hard for, graduating high school two years early for?"

"You know that's different." The light in Claire's eyes took on a harsher tone, the gold beginning to outweigh the purple. "Your still your fathers' daughter. I've never been."

"Yeah, yeah, we're both adopted."

"Your dads both know they adopted you, though." Claire played with a lock of hair, looking off to the side before the light faded from her eyes, making them brown once more. "Fine, then. I'll stop giving you gifts."

"I like gifts. Just not flowers or the severed heads of my enemies."

"Do you want the full bodies, then?"

"Claire, no!"

[program-251]

a ramble about my cat because i love her hehe (she is the best cat in my opinion).

by this point she is around 12 years old I believe, and she gives off such heavy old lady vibes it's unreal and I have just been thinking about how she will eventually pass away most likely before I do, and I thought this would be a nice little thing to look back on : D and remember her by, especially since my memory isn't always the greatest.

Her name is Rogue, she is a black cat with green eyes and a speckling of white hairs from age (she also has a notable patch of white fur on her chest). She loves cuddles and is the most friendly cat I have ever met, she loves attention and whenever she is screaming that is usually what she wants. She is loud and proud, always very vocal about what she wants, and she is like a little motor when she purrs (which is also quite loud XD)

She loves to give me cuddles and starts screaming at me when its 9 am, trying to get me to go to sleep for night time cuddles. It's her routine and man am I bad at following it, she pesters me until I do XD. She loves being tucked in under the blankets and even when it's not cuddle time she will try to get under them by attempting to lift it up with her head.

she loves going outside (almost always with super vision or a bell collar, so she doesn't kill the local wildlife because she is a little murder (although she doesn't even go after birds anymore at this point.)) She never went after are chickens which was surprising since we thought she would , but she mainly just laid down in the grass and observed them. and there chickens warmed up to her and started following her around to her dismay XD you would just see her start walking a little faster when she had a chicken trail behind her it was very funny. She even liked to bring them dead mice, although she stopped that after one of the chickens got to curious and gave her a little peck, after that she avoided them like the plague.

I am really happy that I got to meet her, and live with her and I am glad to say that she has trust in me. She lets me carry her and even purrs when I do, and I am only one of two people who she lets do that, with anyone else she gets really grumpy and definitely considers throwing some hands. She is still salty at one of my friends who picked her up one time XD she is such a salty cat, she will hold grudges. I am also really happy that she enjoys cuddling with me at night, makes it a lot less lonely and I am not use to being alone, plus it makes me feel a lot better seeing this happy content cat living her best life beside me when its dark cause my anxiety spikes and I even use to imagine creatures coming to get me, but having her there made it a lot easier and helped confirm that everything was fine : D (although now I am at a point where I have a really hard time sleeping without her I need my cat cuddles man)

and honestly she is a gorgeous and a majestic cat, I hope she is as happy as she can be and has a lot of happy memories : D and its upsetting to hear people be so superstitious over black cats they are amazing and can make your day just that much better by just being there.

[otterronpas]

CHIBI LORE

NOW

IDMEDITALY

NOW

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!!! So a select few of you may remember my OC/sona, Chibi! I used her a whole lot years ago when I was really active on tumblr, but now that I'm older and revamping my page, I thought I'd give her an update as well! Her lore will be under the cut because I WROTE A LOT SJDJH but do feel free to ask me more questions about her! I'll probably start drawing her more often, so expect to see some art of her sometime!

CHIBI LORE

Chibi grew up in a little village, raised by her father since her mother passed away while she was still young. Members of the village also pitched in to help raise her, so it was like she had one big family.

Magic was heavily taught and practiced in this village, and Chibi’s family had a long history of telekinetics. As such, she grew up learning telekinesis. She’s not a master at it, but she can use it well enough.

Chibi was a relatively quiet and reclusive kid, a bit eccentric at times. She was sometimes a bit slower to learn things in classes than others, but she was still able to learn the material well. Unfortunately, these tendencies often made her a target for bullies. 

Chibi’s main bullies came from “gang” or rival territories in the village. These kids were much stronger, much more powerful than Chibi; because of this, she did her best to ignore them and keep her head up. However, the bullying soon evolved into threats of violence; this was what gave Chibi the push to tell someone about what was happening.

The bullying was swiftly taken care of, and Chibi thought that was the end of it. And for a few weeks, it seemed like it was. Chibi finished her studies, and she was looking into exploring further outside the village. What she didn’t know was that the bullies were plotting revenge. They were convinced that Chibi thought she was stronger than them, that she was much better than them now that she had told someone about them. They wanted to do something big, something that would make her never want to cross them again.

This culminates in Chibi coming home one day to find her home completely trashed. Things were stolen, broken, it was a complete mess. Worst of all, her father was nowhere to be found. Just before she could call for help, the leader of the bullies revealed themselves to her. They berated Chibi to her face, saying that it’s her own fault they did this to her home, because she went and “tattled” on them. They told Chibi that she needed to leave the village, or else things would get much worse for her. Afraid for her own safety, she grabbed what she could and ran far from the village, as far as her legs could take her.

As a side note, Chibi’s father is still alive! He caught the gang in the act of wrecking the house, but was ultimately threatened into running away from the  village. However, the gang convinced Chibi he was dead.

Chibi camped out in the woods for a couple days, scavenging for any food she could hunt down and find. Most of these consisted of small animals, like birds and mice. It wasn’t as good as her village’s home cooking, but it was something. Better than starving, at least. She was surviving, but she knew she couldn’t live in the woods forever. She started seeking out shelter, looking for anywhere she could stay and get back on her feet.

Note: At this time, Chibi is around 16 years old.

Meanwhile, it didn’t take long for the village to notice Chibi’s disappearance. A search party was sent out for her, and they were soon able to find her living deep in the woods. They had planned to bring her back home, but Chibi informed them that she couldn’t go back home due to the gang’s threats. Knowing how powerful the rival territories were, the village agreed to help Chibi find a new place to stay. They eventually found her a home to stay in, somewhere close to the city. In a way it worked out, since Chibi was interested in visiting the city someday. They provided her with enough food, clothes, and funds to help her get back on her feet, and told her she’d always have them to fall back on if she ever needed it. With that, she said her goodbyes and set out for her new home.

Chibi would spend the next four years living on her own, and once she turned 18 she began applying for colleges in the city. She was accepted into a small city college that was decently affordable, but she knew she’d have to get a job to help sustain herself. After looking for a while, she picked up a housekeeping job, and she still works with this company to this day. 

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Well.

That was one helluva last week.

Mostly it was the wind storm that dropped on us Tuesday evening. 

I actually caught a prediction of the storm ("Bomb Cyclone" as the news called it) by UW Atmospheric Scientist, Cliff Mass, a few days earlier... but my read of his prediction put the worst of the storm along the coast and all over the Cascade foothills.

Sucks for them.

Of course I never considered how bad the "normal" part of the storm would be and I got my first taste of it walking across UW's Red Square after dark starting my way home. A bit of rain... but a lot of wind that was starting to push against me in a meaningful way. Then later I'm on 196th in Lynnwood waiting for the crosswalk light when an east to west gust of wind forces me to lean into that wind because I wasn't sure if it would knock me over. Seriously. 

Of course by that time Kimmer'd already told me our neighborhood was without power. Driving home, though, I got a pretty good look at how far beyond our neighborhood the loss of power extended.

I arrived home to a neighborhood cloaked in darkness but with Kimmer already having set up candles all over the house. Every room. It was a very sweet look and I took a bunch o'pictures. ☺️

Thus was our home life transformed.

For example, with no power to the oven it's... salad time.

With no light or heat, the best play seems to be diving under the covers as quickly as possible and waking up the following morning with power restored.

That was the plan.

Unfortunately the next morning did not bring electricity with it so we drove to work an hour and a half maybe two hours early and scored breakfast sandwiches at a nearby Starbucks in town.

On the other end of the day, we delayed leaving town for as long as possible, hoping the power'd be back late in the evening but before we rolled into our driveway.

Nope.

That didn't work either.

This is Wednesday night, now, and since it's around 11 anyway, we go to bed after a little Resident Alien on my laptop, with my Bluetooth speaker, through Kimmer's WiFi hotspot named "Franklin".

Next morning, Thursday morning, there's still no power so we get outta bed, throw on some cold clothes then head out to Fred Meyer real quick for some light shopping then breakfast sandwiches in the Starbucks that's just inside the southwest entrance.

After shopping and breakfast, we head back home where, Hallelujah!, the power's back on.

Did I say Hallelujah?

Now Kimmer, especially, is back in business for online work from home. Unfortunately for me, the power back on doesn't mean instant hot water again. So I head out, second consecutive morning without a shower of any kind.

Returning home that evening, we're back to normal with a cherry on top, the cherry being the nut-free, made in a nut-free facility, deeply chocolate frosted cupcakes that're also injected with chocolate frosting.

Cuz I'm a great husband like that. 🥳

So then Friday's a regular day only it's not a regular day because it's Linzy's birthday! 

First thing in the morning, though, we look up and out the french doors to our bedroom when we spy Dinker the cat outside in front of the doors. Not a super unusual occurrence... only he's been gone missing a coupla weeks and we presumed him dead on account of raccoons.

So this is our cat. Back from the dead.

By the way, he's chunkier than when we saw him last two weeks before... and he smells of cigarette smoke. So either he took up smoking and then binge-eating mice and birds or...

Someone's been keeping our cat locked up in their home for the past two weeks.

Insane.

Pretty sure we know who it is 'cause, sadly, they're in a late stage of life with an ever looser hold on reality. 🤨🤔

Anyway, Dinker The Cat came home. 🥳

Back to Linzy's birthday, though, because early that afternoon we picked her up at her place and jetted off to Pacific Place in downtown to catch the newly-released "Wicked". Later, my second-cousin texts me 

"Did you like it ??"

And I say

Absolutely. But the experience for me went like this: They coulda lopped off the first five to ten minutes and started with Galinda arriving at school. I spent the first half of the movie HATING. GALINDA'S. GUTS. The middle of the movie was the most compelling, powerful part. Then fun until they meet oz. Then the end gets super intense until both linzy and I discovered this was part one of two movies and the second doesn't come out until this time next year. WHAAAAAAAAAAT???!!! 😡 But yeah. Great movie! ☺️

Yeah.

That was not. A fun surprise.

So now we're into the weekend and we're looking ahead at this coming Thursday: Thanksgiving.

Kimmer's doing a cooked potato trial run, testing out her recipe and cooking instructions for what will be, essentially, today's breakfast. Then she's on the phone with a dear friend whose family's joining us and the discussion gets well into the tall grass of food, drinks, desserts, and seating arrangement.

The missus 'n I talk about these things as well, trying to determine next steps so that the week goes smoothly.

Which is all.

We really.

Want.

🙂

[2af-afterdark]

In what instance did Shadow did to make you think “You little meanace/gremlin”?

Gosh! I wish I had pictures of this, but this was a long time ago and they are lost to the sands of time (and moving out of my mom's place after I went to undergrad), BUT!!!! Shadow likes to steal clothing. Not just any kind of clothing; bras and socks (specifically dirty ones). I have no idea why she likes to steal these in particular, but she will bring them to you the same way other cats will bring you dead birds and mice.

Well, would normally leave a sacrificial bra for her on the floor because of one series of incidents. Specifically, she started getting a sacrificial bra AFTER the time we came home and she was trapped under the laundry basket. We had no idea what happened until some time later... when we watched her stand on her back legs and try to reach into the laundry basket... only to have it flip over on top of her and become kitty jail yet again. She was so distressed, but it was hilarious.

There is also the time she knocked over the FULL garbage can because we threw away a can of tuna after using it and she wanted it. She does not fuck around when it comes to containers...

[twigg96]

I hope you don’t mind me making a short ficlet about your furry little dudes but 👀 I gotta their too cute.

When Charles and Abigail moved into the neighborhood they had noticed lots of little paw prints decorating the dust on the hood of their car during sunny days, making little wet patterns on the covered concrete porch, and dancing through the snow as the seasons changed. They tried their best to feed the kitties outside. And when they were lucky enough they even got glimpses of them. Abigail was especially worried for a little tiger-stripped munchkin with a bobbed tail. She would pace by the sliding door watching as the other cats teased and picked on him taking full advantage of his size over him. “Charlie…” she hummed, hugging him from behind as he worked. “I’ve been thinking… maybe Ottertooth out there was an indoor kitty so it might just be the best thing if we brought him inside?” She asked with the confidence of certainty how ever her voice betrayed her at the last moment giving way to her hopefulness. Charles paused in his work, simply laying his pen down carefully before taking her arms from around his shoulders long enough to spin his office chair around and pull her close once more this time allowing her to sit in his lap. “Darling,” he whispered kissing her forehead, “did you honestly name it… Ottertooth?” He asked chuckling and squeezing her tight despite the eye-roll and whines of his wife. “Yes! He has a little snaggle tooth so his tongue sticks out sometimes and he really likes water. So Ottertooth!” Abigail explained herself smiling as Charles couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok… how about the others? Did you name them too?” Abigail nodded at her husband’s question proudly. Pointing out the window in their shared office she picked out each Kitty confidently. “The big black and grey kitty with long fur. That’s Brutal Claw. He is kinda like their protector. He doesn’t do a lot of bullying to anyone, he just watches over all the other cats from the tree in the backyard. One time though our neighbor's Borzoi, Mags had gotten loose from his fence and gotten into the yard. Brutal Claw came out of nowhere to protect the other cats and chased him the whole way home. He does however favor Ottertooth… because he keeps the others from bullying him too much. He is also the loudest out of all the cats. His meow is so loud it always gets my attention, but he's so sweet. He comes out almost every time I'm out and I give him scritches.” Charles nodded twirling a piece of his wife’s long hair. He had a feeling he knew where all this was going. But he let Abigail finish before giving any thought.

“Then there’s the chunky Main Coon that only comes around once every so often at night so he's still quite the mystery for me too. I named him Murder Pelt. The few times I managed to see him, his fur was a little matted and he really needs some loving babe but he always brings me little dead mice and birds as presents when I give him kitty food. He’s a secret softy. I really hope I get to pet him one day.” Abigail snuggled up to Charles, lighting up as a brilliant gold cat hopped onto the windowsill as if reading her mind.

“Oh! That’s Elffrost!” She exclaimed giggling watching the heated glare she got from the spindly cat. "Now Elffrost is very full of himself. He knows he's a very beautiful boy who takes great care of his coat. However, he's a picky bitch who only likes certain food and treats. He's pissed at me because I'm late to give him his salmon treats." As if hearing her through the glass, Elffrost meowed indignantly turning his tail up at Abigail before stepping off the ledge of the windowsill with grace. "Now I think maybe Elffrost may be albino because his eyes are just so blue but I don't know but I do know if it's ok with you we need to get him fixed because I've seen at least three momma cats prowling around with kittens that look just like him so we don't need any more of that." Abigail sighed frowning.

"Then there's Pickles a scrawny little ginger short hair tabby. He is so sweet. He has these little... leg warmers on his front feet that are black and it's the only part of him that's not ginger. It's so cute. Every time I go out he shows up and rubs against my legs and purrs so loudly. He is a little wary of new things, however. When we had those movers here to help us with the new fridge, he was the one under the deck in front hissing and yowling at them. He's feisty but he's more bark than bite." Abigail sighed sitting up straighter in her husband's lap. "What do you think?" She asked hesitantly, gauging his reaction carefully.

Charles was cautious to mind his facial expressions as he thought, a skill he acquired after many years of being a lawyer. "Well..." He started slowly, taking hold of his wife's waist so that she would not fall backward off of the seat. "We've already been paying for food and treats for all five of the boys. Litter boxes and cat toys won't be too much of an expenditure. A couple of cat trees to accommodate them might be more but I think we can swing it as well as the price of cat litter... Now I think with vet bills... we should tackle it in chunks. Take them all at once to be seen by the vet, get shots, get flea treatments, and dewormed. Then we can schedule their neutering based on the prices the vets give us. We'll have to be diligent to clean the house every day with five cats-" Abigail cut Charles off jolting to meet his gaze. "Wait! Charlie! You really want to bring them all in?" She squeaked unable to stop the smile that crept across her lips. Charles stayed quiet for a moment studying Abigail for a moment. "Did you not want to, my love?" He asked disappointedly. "I was just thinking... it would not only be safer for the five of them, but they seem to have a little pack dynamic and if you remove their littlest they may panic and it could disrupt the whole pack. So I figured... if they let you move them in here, why not move them all in?" Abigail stared blankly at Charles before hugging him tightly. "I love you so much." She whispered, kissing him sweetly. "Mmm. I love you too." Charles whispered holding Abigail tightly. Looking out the window at the playful cats he smiled knowing that his life would forever be changed forever but he was more than ready to take on the challenges. As a potted plant smashed to the concrete outside and he watched five ornery cats skitter across the yard he sighed, well maybe...

dethklan cats. yes i made murderface but it didnt turn out good in my opinion pls... but his cat name is murderpelt.

[jungle-angel]

Pls

10. Cats in the basket by the fireplace

With Bob! From tgm!

Maybe even some black cats?

EEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!! I'm screamin babes!!! Cat!Dad Bob and literal Daddy!Bob are running like crazy through my brain right now

Bozeman, MT

November, 2022

The fire crackled away in the fireplace of the big log cabin you and Bob had built on the land you owned in Montana, the blizzard already howling outside and pelting the windows with snow.

Right next to the fireplace was the basket where the cats all slept at night. Beau, the big Maine Coon, had a bad habit of pissing Bob off with the dead birds and mice he'd leave near the kitchen door, but on nights like this, he was one of the best footwarmers you and Bob had ever asked for.

Maisie was the white Angora with mismatched eyes, one blue and another green, the queen of the pack who curled up in your lap and purred every night after dinner. You and Bob had been to a friend's graduation from the Naval Academy in Maryland and had found Maisie cowering under a mailbox on the streetcorner. Ever since then, Maisie was yours.

Oliver was a little orange tabby cat who had been found in almost the same way, a bedraggled kitten in a rained out box on the streets. Bob had found him on a walk one night and had stuck him inside his hoodie, bringing him home to you. Every time you watched "Oliver and Company" after that, you and Bob were practically in tears.

Thunder was the slinky little Siamese cat that had wandered onto the property, a beautiful little kitty with a shiny cream colored coat, ashy, black markings on her face, paws and tail and GINORMOUS blue eyes that reminded you almost of Bob's. Some days you looked at her and swore she was a queen's cat in a past life.

Jiji and Salem were the last two to join the clan, the blackest cats with the greenest eyes you had ever seen. Once you had gotten the ever living shit scared out of you when you saw Jiji's eyes at night, lurking in the halls. You and Bob had a long running joke about how you could never get either of them to fly right on a broomstick.

"Ok buddy, ok," Bob murmured to the wriggling newborn in his arms. "You're gonna meet some furry friends of Momma and Daddy's."

Bob crouched low to the ground and sure enough, the cats came right to him, hesitantly at first but the sight of a new little human filled them with curiosity.

"He'll be ok if they start licking him right?" you chuckled.

"Counting on the fact that at least all of them have woken up at some point or another in his crib," Bob said.

Each of the cats got a sniff or two in before Bob was able to get to his feet and stand up right. The three of you moved to the couch where you snuggled close together, your son letting out a tiny little coo before the cats began climbing all over.

"Thank God your mom and dad took Teeter for the winter," you said. "He'd chase the cats all the way to the attic if he got the chance."

Bob laughed a little bit at the thought that sprang into his mind. Once the cats had settled in, you and Bob did the same, warming yourselves close to the fire while the blizzard howled away outside.

[finniestoncrane]

i like your Rogue Sugar Daddy headcanons... Could you do some more villains? (maybe hatter, hoohoo)

aaaah i'm glad you liked them!! okey dokey lil bb thank you for requesting 💚

(pls don't judge me too harshly on my characterisation of hatter, i don't know much about him!! i've been scared off by some of his iterations ksahskadh and i really need to do a proper deep dive on his character)

minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff

mad hatter

he’ll spoil you so bad, you’re precious to him and he loves having someone to fawn over and dote on. you get the prettiest dresses, the nicest shoes, the cutest bows for your hair (and a decent allowance on top) and your duties in return are to serve tea at his parties, bring the cakes, and be cute and sweet at all times. he likes reading to you, it soothes him, and it's one of the things he enjoys doing with you the most. will definitely set up a picnic with tea and biscuits in a field and read stories to you with your head in his lap

black mask

you are literally arm candy and that's your one job. he won't call on you unless he has to make an appearance somewhere, and you'll receive the invitation along with bags and bags and boxes and boxes of clothes, accessories, jewellery and shoes. show up, look hot and stay quiet and don't let go of his arm the whole night. if you need to drink something, he'll hand it to you. you should have eaten and gone to the bathroom before you arrived. he'll get someone to drive you home and you'll wake up to a hefty deposit in your bank account as a thanks, depending on how well you behaved

catwoman

she doesn't expect anything in return, it's just nice sometimes to have someone to give things to. if she finds anything she thinks would make you smile, she'll leave it on your doorstep. thinking less dead mice and birds and more an expensive watch or some nice earrings. all she gets out of it is being able to watch the surprise and joy on your face when you stumble upon her surprise gifts from a safe distance. the mystery is part of the fun

victor zsasz

his approach to being a sugar daddy is a little different to most. he's often busy, way too busy to spoil you or see you in the flesh. so he satisfies a lot of his sadomasochistic urges by video calling you so you can watch him while he punishes himself. you can tell him what to do, and for everything he does that hurts him extra good, you'll get another little cash tip for being so mean to daddy

[hansensgirl]

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

[one-joe-spoopy]

Hoosegow exists as just an extension of an Otherworld, but it's kind of a dead space where strange things lurk. Supposedly it's for dumping the weird creations the Kanagawas (cough Cecil cough) don't quite get right, but no one's really been deep enough inside it to confirm any which way. And I actually really liked your description of the Kanagawas as hydra heads, but they do still have their separate personalities. Jaws of Death is still Jaws of Death, but it's now Cecil bringing in the creations that are juuuuuuust fucked up enough to be palatable and pitting them against people.

Mick isn't actually cursed!! Technically he's blessed in the sense that even when he gets himself into trouble, someone or something intervenes to get him out of it alive. Kind of like the universe loves him enough that it doesn't want to see him hurt (too bad) or he's just got nine lives. Maybe it's the nine lives. (Juno swears up and down that there are some things no one walks out of scot-free except for Mick Mercury.)

It's not that Sarah went through extreme lengths to hate Juno in particular—hell, she sometimes showered him with more love (he is still her little monster) than she showed Ben, but maybe it was just her being kind to her own reflection. The older they got and the less cute and clingy Juno got, the less and less she liked him. And the less she liked him, the less he liked her. Her killing Ben and then herself could also be read as her wanting to get away from her own shadow (Juno, since he represents her angry, paranoid side that never can quite trust unless it's the one thing it knows, its own flesh and blood). Or maybe it was just plain revenge for ruining her, who knows.

The twins' tragic story is that they don't really have anything particularly tragic about them. They're exactly the same as any other Kanagawa, and while Cecil is more than delighted to be that way, Cassandra is not. She's not as monstrous as the rest of her family and she wants out from them but she can't. (The fun thing about being split from the same person is that you can't ever go too far from them. There's a magical tether binding each copy to one another and unless you kill the original, there's nowhere to go. But Cassandra killed Croesus, didn't she? She's made of him?? Shouldn't she be free??? Yeah... No, not really.)

Also yeah, monsterfucker Juno Steel. There, it's canon.

M'tendere does exist in this au and they're (now dead) human in the same toxic, destructive manner that Jet is. They also spent time with the fae and are thus "blessed" with the ability to bring life to inanimate objects by breathing purpose into them (although the purpose often turns out to be just as destructive as M'tendere is). Jet meets them from time to time and it's usually a brief time where they both give a little life update (death update, in their case) and then move on in their lives.

Also I never said Peter was hogtied :)) but now I'm adding that in, hell yeah!

As I mentioned, Juno does get the strangest cravings for raw meat at times because of his magic eye. During those times he picks up his rifle, leaves Rita a little message about where he's going (plus a bribe to keep her from following after him) (she has valid reason to freak out if he doesn't contact her within a day given that he's disappeared on her time and time again) and goes into the frozen wasteland outside of Hyperion to find some tiny animal or the other to stalk. Usually it's limited to birds or mice, but this time he spots something big slinking through the woods and he follows after it mindlessly. He doesn't want to hurt whatever it is, he's just curious about it.

The "thing" pauses in the shadow of a little snow hill and Juno hunkers down behind a rock to keep watch, the gun tucked behind his back. It kneels down in the cold and starts unravelling something wrapped around one of its limbs—Juno can't quite tell if it's a sleeve or if it's bandages but he's eager to see better so he creeps closer (much against what a sane hunter would advise when approaching an injured animal) (not that Peter's an animal per se) (or is he?)

Maybe he rustles the snow, maybe he somehow stands out in the ashy grey slush of the Cerberus Province, maybe it's Lady Luck sticking her crooked nose where it does not belong, but the creature's head flicks in his direction faster than he can even hide. It's disorienting every single time to have double vision, to see in preternaturally clear sight and his weak human sight, and this time is no different; the thing (fae, it's a fae!, screams his stupid animal brain) stares dead at him with two sets of eyes, one doe-like and innocent, rimmed in beautifully thick lashes, the other open wide and haunted, weeping something red and black. Juno can't breathe as those eyes rove wildly over the area he hides in, can't draw in a single atom of oxygen until those strange eyes close and the pretty ones blink away the sound.

His heart's pounding something fierce in his chest as the thing rewraps its arms and starts to move away on all fours in the half-melted mud, on splayed-wide palms and soles. Once it's far enough that even his new eye can't quite make out the details, he starts to follow after it with a sudden gnawing in his guts like nothing he's ever felt before.

Something interesting occurred to me while I was answering your latest batch of questions. Fae are predatory creatures by nature, but some of them may present with animal characteristics (like Vespa and Peter). I was just thinking what it means that Peter's fae form is a prey animal hiding a predator beneath but ultimately he ends up being prey in nearly every situation he finds himself in. Just thought it was funny.

Rita's made Juno many things with no strings attached (which she announces loudly because Juno gives her the skeptical stink-eye the very first time she hands him a bracelet and proclaims that she made it just for him and I promise, Mister Steel, I just made it 'cause I wanted to! It's just a gift from little ol' me, honest. Don't you trust me? She asks, with the sneakiest of grins. Juno silently takes it from her but it takes a long time for his skeptical scrunch of a stink-eye to go away) including a tiny sewer rabbit with tusks and red eyes and real rabbit fur (I didn't hurt the little bunnies, what kinda monster do you take me for?), the tiniest of dolls ever with an actual ticking heart that you can feel if you hold in your hand (she has a matching one that looks just a tad too much like him for his comfort), a piece of amber glass worn smooth on leather cord (it's so so pretty you wouldn't believe, it's one of Juno's favorites) that Juno wears wrapped around his wrist (the amber smells something sweet and warm that he can't quite put his finger on but it's very soothing), and a bracelet made of woven red thread and matte crystals that's reminiscent of the red sand that gets blown around Hyperion (if you hold it up to the light the center of the crystal looks like there's blood suspended in it). The charms on Juno's gun are tiny, like I said, and they don't make a sound or catch the light which is great for not alerting anything that shouldn't be alerted. They're mostly tiny gemstones in various colors, some of them tiny stars and flowers. One is shaped like a miniature skull but nothing like any creature Juno's ever seen, and Rita refuses to tell him.

Juno has tattoos!!! And piercings!!! So does Peter!!! And Rita!!! They all do!!!

Hey! So, uh, I have some more stuff for the fae-hunter jupeter au, if you'd like to hear it? Regarding some more about the background and things and the other characters and also some intrusive thoughts Juno has regarding the cannibalism?

Oh fuck yeah babey lay it on me. This is the best Steel Twin Birthday Present and no other holiday or event going on irl I could've woken up to ever! And also does it mean anything if I say I have more thoughts on my monster hunter au bc I have a lot of new thoughts about it