#a lil blasphemy as a treat

[willowcreektownie]

my church offers no absolutes she tells me, worship in the bedroom

[woooshworldtwo]

AT A LOSS

TAGS: WIFE!READER [Originally just mentioned once in dialogue but otherwise just spouse is used when describing said relationship between characters], Husband!Caracalla x Reader x Unrequited!Geta, Mentions of sex, Brief mentions of slavery [gladiators in the Colosseum], Brief mentions of animal cruelty [animals participating in the Colosseum], Historical inaccuracies, I'm not sure what else.

FIRST NOTE: I think I wanted to try accentuating the care he wants to give reader and therefore ends up treating those around him as what he sees them as- disposable and like shit. Geta is a TERRIBLE man so I guess I just wanted him to be pining for someone he knows is out of reach. I was gonna make it a series to like Caracalla x partner reader x unrequited Geta. if this is the first chapter, ngl idk where to trail off from there. i kind of write while im smoking just to fuck around so maybe i could write at least five-ish chapters if i think of a good enough plot. WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE THINK?? who knows i could even do the same with Caracalla, it could make sense cause he literally kills his brother in the movie

SECOND NOTE: pov ur me, high off like five tokes and u watch Gladiator 2 the day it comes out on Paramount+. BOOM, obsessed, love it, don't even care about the historical inaccuracies. For some reason, as someone as not all there like Caracalla is, having that deep relationship with his brother, once he notices that lil interest Geta has, or even just the doubts of others finally becoming to a point where my guy has to LOCK IN to keep his partner w him. not cause they don't love them, I think it would be cause he loves THEM too much. I'm talking bristling at the notion whenever he thinks of them together. JUST UNSPOKEN TENSION. do u guys enjoy that?

THIRD NOTE: unfortunately, i have more to talk about but no one to say it to so ur my audience. yelling into the mic i ask, do you guys think I should write porn of Caracalla and reader FUCKING?? idk if it would even include Geta- IT COULD, WHATEVER YOU GUYS WANT. I sort of just wanted to explore writing intimacy as an actual action instead described as thoughts. leave ur thoughts on what u guys think on that too bc im literally so curious.

PLEASE DON'T COPY MY WORK, I BET YOU

Summer in your lungs, and alcohol swimming in your stomach; Caracalla wonders if he's seen beauty such as yours. Never alone in the hours of the night, the lovers he takes soon notice how harder he is to satisfy, to sedate into a warm puddle wrapped in expensive sheets- instead becoming unflinching to the pleasures that usually melt his tortured mind.

Intense with his emotions, he swears this affection was there from first glance. Taken sight of you at in your hazy glory; the clothes accentuating the shade of your skin, the warmth of your eyes, it only takes months before you two wed.

From there, days are blissful. Misery always follows, but he finds with your company at his side, falling into the episodes of madness are rarer and rarer.

Perhaps it's the sweetness of your soul mending what his lacks, or having the closeness of your body distances the pestering thoughts appearing out of thin air. No matter what is it, with his claws dug into your being- he refuses to let go.

Dimmed by what other's consider insanity, it's difficult not to see Caracalla's growing lucidness. Coming face to face with it, Geta realizes any foes and enemies of Rome has never been as close as his brother has to the inner workings of his mind.

Divided by grace, the affection for you has been its limit. As the eldest, Caracalla bears the pitying glances from other's in the palace; to have the responsibilities laid on Geta is blasphemy, but who else can handle its weight when his mind is in two?

Who else to lessen its everlasting ache if not you? For that reason, such as many others, is why he cannot risk this becoming what he has grown familiar with- sharing with his brother.

Holding the same curiosity he did in the faint moments of childhood, his Adam's Apple bobs faintly- and when you look to follow its movements before returning your gaze to him: a faint shiver is felt and repressed in that same breath. "Caracalla?"

Asking in a murmur, he knows what you're referring to. Living with you these past handful of months, he can recall the number of times you've cut each conversation he's thought out into nothing more than small talk. In one worded questions, he cannot help but admire the relaxed sight of you.

So much so, he allows you to each time. Tossing the unspoken plans of connection for small talk, he nods. A hint of a smile is seen, and alone from that, you beam back at him.

Genuine like the sun, to continue seeing it, it makes it easy for him to keep spew out half thought words in hopes something he says would land. "He will arrive shortly, do not worry.", it ends with your name, echoing from his mouth, and although the God's have given him the same glory they themselves hold at their fingertips; nothing has sounded as holy.

Bounded by faith, the prayers he spills are ingrained in the folds of his brain, but once consumed in these times of power, he wonders if he should dare step closer to the soul he swears should beat for him.

"... Geta?", Unknowing for how much time has past, the beaming smile you once held is melted into a small frown. Quietly urging him to the present like he's seen you do with his brother, there's a warmth blooming in the hallow part of his chest.

Cherishing the brief concern, it only seems to remind him what Caracalla has naturally and what he takes the scraps of.

Still leaned back into the expensive marble, the wall itself is a pale enough color to forget about, instead focusing on the features he, too, fantasizes of in passing moments alone.

"Where did you go?", Too familiar with speaking to the other emperor, the question is thoughtless when spoken, yet its weight is felt nonetheless. "Nowhere. Just here.. Are you enjoying yourself?", Taking a pause, he eventually speaks again. It's done when walking to the the throne nearing Caracalla's; the one you sit in.

"Quite the spectacle.", Your eyes peer down at the sight below; bloodshed in the Colosseum's sand doesn't make your stomach twist like it once did, however when watching captured men swing weapons- and seeing another one fall, you look to him again.

Sitting at his own throne, you find his eyes already on you; a quirk upturning on his lips to show the pleased buzz your words give him. Gladiators from conquered lands, their purpose in Rome is to win their survival and amuse any passing visitors. Yet in the past year or so, since your arrival, he's found a deeper sense of pride at their display.

Growing passed the Senator's praise, passed continuing his parents past teachings, he has found serenity in the amazement you hold so clearly.

Seeing your wonder at the captured animals; their stature towering over the sand's flat ground, using its strength to trample over any competitors- he finds himself chasing the occasional bursts of attention he manages to keep with in your magenta sunlight.

Never promising loyalty to anyone; he chases it when you're unable to give it, the mess of concubines and courtesans who he cannot remember the names nor the faces of, only remembering their similarities to you- their purpose has been asked for more as of late, and neglected all the same soon after.

No matter if it was seeing a person with hair similar to yours, a familiar sounding voice, even just dressed in clothing resembling your own; they were sought out after in hopes of finding you in them.

He finds it only lasts briefly.

Of course sex is endless, at the call of his voice and at the stop of a groan; services are there to satisfy whatever craving he has. But after each round of breathlessness, he finds that hunger for what is missing growing into something insatiable.

Hours spent, feeling their bodies, picturing what your own must look like underneath the white moonlight casting into his bedchambers. Each thrust is heavy with yearning he cannot mend, moaning for warmth he cannot have; he damns Caracalla in those times for finding you first before he did.

Perhaps then would you be his spouse. To bed you the same way his brother does would be true nirvana, to hear those same whimpers he knows you're able to make, to feel you shiver and tighten around him the same way those people do; it's what he longs for.

He's certain then he'd be more than just rough, chasing whatever high is made in a blurry of orgasms- it becomes difficult to differentiate who is with him and who is imagined; not when his eyes are shut and your image is all he sees in its darkness. Tenderness is taught, and if his brother was able to learn to extend that same to you; there is no doubt he'd do the same.

"Are you enjoying it?", Turning your focus back onto Geta, his answer is a hum. The sound is husky from passing thoughts, and strain for what should be hidden; he takes a moment to gather his words.

"I always favor your company, the spectacle is merely entertainment.", Repeating what you said only minutes ago, the unexpressed emotions behind it is registered in your mind- and although brushed off originally, that denial you have becomes harder to not believe Geta's feelings becoming more noticeable in the time spent at his brother's side.

"The ambience of cheering Roman's, animals in pain, and dying men; no wonder we have such lively conversations in these times.", Another quality of yours he finds endearing is your dryness. The harshness soaked into your veins from being raised by your family has not changed you the way it has him he notices; viewing the cruelties of Rome in whatever light you could shed, he once again almost smiles, a quirk of his lips turning upwards showing.

"Complaining to the emperor for the privileges he's given you? What an ungrateful wife you are.", Breaking out into a smile, what is said is anything but malicious. Leaving Caracalla unmentioned; unsaid, his mind is soothed from its ache, mending itself when remembering it's just you and him- hidden away.

Alone in a place where he can pretend you two are more than in-laws, there's a warm stirring at the sound of your laughter. Filled with humor you express so freely, it reminds him of conversations with your father throughout the years; his stories of your youth.

Defiant in ways he wishes he'd seen, and mischievous in ways he knows you still are; the only changes is now you're not tangible. Yet, lost in affections like he never got to be as a boy, he doesn't mind who he's face to face with now. Not in the slightest.

"Forgive my insolence, emperor; I plead for it.", Clearly you speak to Caracalla too much because the shiver trailing up his spine goes directly into that heated feeling in his abdomen. Aware you're unknowing to the effect you have, it only worsens at the hint of playfulness heard.

"Oh, you're forgiven. The God's have extended their mercy onto you today, but be wry, they could change their mind.", Unwilling to give into the arousal brewing, the tension he's created in his body, he replies with a smile- one that lingers too long.

Mischief isn't needed to be noticed in the palace, not with the two emperor's having their souls intertwining themselves with your own- no longer being unheard by those around you, that streak remains. It brings an amusement greater than bloodshed to Geta, and even more so to Caracalla. Smoothness of your words he swears is coated with the sweetest of wines; it disarms what would be seen as scrutiny as nothing more than a jest.

With humor being forgotten in such trying times; outside of what the Colosseum offers, and outside of the different celebrations of another conquered land- Geta finds your spirit is lightening to what is constantly dampening in his.

Shouts of Roman's are heard, like you predicted, and another man falls. However, with neither of you truly paying attention to the sight; their deaths were not offered the same graciousness you're given so carelessly, so frivolously: and when one of the last remaining takes their bow to surrender- only then do you look away.

To see your eyes of amusement grow into something unreadable, his own smile dims into a frown.

Standing from the throne, his hands rest on the Bisellium's railing, he grips onto it tightly when seeing below. Blood stains the sand as always; the deceased laid out over it in the afternoon heat, and the two lone man kneel. Meters away from one another, your eyes flicker between them, and soon Geta speaks up again.

Mercy is yelled in the air, and when he asks you, his voice is quieter than intended, "Shall we show mercy?"

Sparking what was lost, you nod, and another smile is seen, "Mercy."

Prayers do not solve what is inevitable, he finds, not when the God's blood soars through his body. The threat of rebellion, and the stings of betrayal, that mask that hides it all becomes wavering whenever he's with you; wishing to you like he did as a child to the God's for power, to worship you in ways he only should deities- it almost feels blasphemous.

Even more so now, when you don't understand the importance behind what he says; the grace he offers, the laughs he lets slip out- it is only the beginning of what he could promise you.

FOURTH NOTE: Now that you've made it this far, I wanna like drift away from what I was writing on my old account. it was just small paragraphs, but writing on a laptop just HITS DIFFERNT- literal hours spent doing this shit. I don't rlly wanna take requests bc i feel like my time is just too hectic for that, BUT I WOULD LOVE to hear your guys thoughts!! Okay, small series on these characters- Quinn Mossbacher, Simon Kalivoda, Ethan Russell, DIMITRI KRAVIOFF, DANIEL MARKOWITZ, JASON HOCHBERG, and finally our beloved; Caracalla. bad part is I haven't most of the movies they're in, so i don't want it to be inaccurate.

FIFTH NOTE: currently i'm writing a Johnny Storm fic series inspired by the new Fantastic Four trailer (writing the third chapter of what could be a five or even eight part series if I get to understand that franchise better), an Eddie Muson fic mainly just to fuck around and post that old one I never got a chance to. also an Adrian Chase fic i found on my laptop, another one for Koby from the one piece live action (I was inspired when the show first came out), and joe goldberg

FINAL NOTE: I've wanted to get into watching Yellowjackets. LOVE THE SHOW. Another thing I wanted to ask bc when I write for women characters, i like to write them as WLW. SO would you guys like it if i also wrote for Iris (Companion), SISTER BARNES (Heretic), Jinx (Arcane), Lucy Maclean (Fallout), Rhiannon Lewis (Sweetpea)?? one day if i sell out and get a membership to Prime or those silly addons; I WILL.

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: afab!reader [no gendered pronouns used]; vaginal fingering; begging; overstim/orgasm denial; a lil blasphemy as a treat [ex. themes of worship/doflamingo calling himself a god] wc: 1.2k

The air in the room is humid and oppressive, and the sounds of your desperate, needy whines echo throughout the space, sounds that are only eclipsed by the lewd squelching noises of Doflamingo’s long, thick fingers pistoning in and out of your sore, sopping cunt. Your back sticks to his bare chest, your skin coated in a fine layer of perspiration, as he holds you against him with one arm to keep you from squirming in his lap, his forearm pressing into you just under your ribcage, almost threatening to push the air out of your lungs. For all your hazy mind can recall, it may have been minutes, or hours, or weeks since he’d wordlessly stripped you bare and pulled you into his lap, his warm breath against your neck as he whispered what a pretty little thing you were, that his favorite darling deserved unending pleasure, and that your king was going to ruin you over and over again until you were nothing but a sobbing mess in his arms.

“Please—please, please—I—I can’t,” you stutter and whine through frantic gasps, your mindless, fucked-out babbling like a gospel to his ears as you strain against him, desperate for one more moment of release as he holds it just out of reach. “Please just—just let me—I can’t take this anymore, please.”

He only laughs, a staggering vibration you feel in your bones, and he slows the movements of his hand, keeping his fingertips precariously positioned just inside your pulsing entrance. His tongue runs along the shell of your ear before sinking his teeth into it, sending shockwaves through your overwrought nerves. “You’ll finish when I say you can finish, pet,” he growls as he licks a thick stripe up your neck, the salt of your sweat settling on his long tongue. “You’re too precious when you lose control of yourself like this, why would I want it to end so soon? And after all the delights I’ve given you already—you would deny me a little fun, is that it?”

“N-no, of course not,” you whimper as you try to grind against his hand, and his forearm grips you tighter, shoving a gasp out of your quivering lips.

“I didn’t think so,” he hissed. “Now, you’ll sit there and you’ll be good until I’ve decided you can cum again—whenever that may be.”

“Please, Doffy, I’m begging you,” you keen sweetly as hot, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks—just the way he likes to see you. He brings you right to the precipice of your climax yet again, then eases his ministrations, keeping you teetering, just able to see the faint glimmer of mercy before you before it disappears. “Please—please—it hurts, everything hurts. I need this so bad, please won’t you just let me have it? Please? I’m so good for you, just let me have this.”

Doflamingo hums amusedly as you strain and struggle in his grasp, your hips sloppily grinding against him, and he remains delighted by the depths of your frustration. He toys with your drenched cunt a little more, feeling as though he could attain divinity every time you flutter and contract around him and he denies you yet again; the desperation in your groans, the ways your feeble hands try to slap and claw at his arm, the shudder of your hips every time he runs his fingers through your sensitive folds—it’s all sublime to him, a mesmerizing display of your devotion.

“Fine—I’ll let you have your taste of heaven, my little lamb,” he says through a wicked grin, his voice dripping with condescension, as you nearly start to lose all hope of ever wresting yourself from his grip.

“Oh thank you,” you wail breathlessly, “thank you.”

“Not so fast, darling.” Doflamingo removes his fingers from you entirely, tracing them idly along your puffy lips, letting you feel how your aching cunt drools arousal onto his lap without the presence of his thick digits to hold it in, letting you feel the shame of your deviance settle upon you. “You seem to forget your place— I control you. I am above you. And you shall recognize me as such, do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you say.” You’re panting, practically salivating, as he fingers slowly slide inside you again, his thumb hovering just over your tender bundle of nerves.

“That’s better,” he purrs. “Now are you ready to accept me as your god?”

“Doffy, please…don’t make me do this.”

“I can keep you here as long as you’d like, just on the edge of something glorious.” He pumps his fingers slowly, agonizingly, as he revels in the resplendence of your despondency. “Take your time.”

You tilt your head back to rest it against his chest, closing your eyes and taking a deep and painful breath as your hands ball into angry fists, before you finally murmur, “I worship no god but you.”

“See,” he chuckles, “that wasn’t hard, now was it?”

He plunges his fingers inside your waiting cunt, your walls pulsing and clenching with every movement and he pulls moan after exquisite moan from you as he delves deeper and deeper with messy, erratic thrusts. His thumb dances over your swollen clit, and before long a tension takes over your body, your muscles coiling tighter with every frantic movement of his hand. His name leaves your lips over and over again, the sound ringing in the room like a hedonistic hymn, as you find what you’d been seeking and you reach a final shattering release, wave after wave of rapture threatening to drown you.

Doflamingo moves his hand up your body and grips your chin firmly, tilting your head back as your jaw goes slack. He captures your lips with a hungry urgency and kisses you deeply, his long tongue sliding into your mouth with little resistance. As he breaks the kiss and a string of saliva still connects you, he taps the side of your cheek and scoffs: “You’re welcome.”

He gently pulls you off his lap, laying your boneless body down beside him on the couch as you weep, every nerve and fiber still twitching and pulsing, tiny lightning bolts running down your limbs. Every breath burns your lungs, every ragged gasp feels like a miracle, every movement of your aching muscles a triumph, as you ride out the last waves of your ecstasy. Your noisy sobs begin to subside, though you barely notice the couch cushions shifting under you and the distant sounds of fabric rustling through the ringing in your ears.

“Now, my little lamb,” Doflamingo suddenly rasps, a low growl behind his words, as you feel a light pat on your thigh to rouse your attention, “what do you do when a god grants you mercy and blesses you with paradise, hm?”

You raise your head and blink away the tears that remain, holding yourself up on your elbows, your entire core still shaking. Your lips part and a low gasp escapes you—he offers you a depraved grin as he reclines on the couch, holding his massive, pulsing cock in his hand. He squeezes it gently as he slowly strokes it, and the throbbing head flushes a deep pink, a glistening bead of precum dripping from the tip. He groans and tilts his head back as he gestures to the floor:

“You get on your knees, and you worship.”

[cringecannon]

UGGH thank you for writing that lil' kar'niss snippet, he's been possessing my mind ever since I saw him in game! cant tell if i wanna pamper him, bully him, or get bullied BY him. all in the name of the Absolute amirite

Why not all three?

Kar'niss doesn't have anyone who cares about him, so when you show up in his life it flips everything upside down. You're a saint in his eyes, and he still can't believe someone so perfect wants to spend their time with him. You are a gift from the Absolute, a breathing light of his life. He would never squander such generosity.

On the other side of the coin, he worships you regardless of how you treat him. You can demand anything of him, and he'd risk life and limb to get it for you. You can demean him straight to his face and he'd still look up at you all wide-eyed as if you hung the stars yourself.

If you don't worship the Absolute though, he can be incredibly cruel. You are a heathen, scum, he should kill you for the blasphemy you spew about his Queen. He won't, though. You would be a powerful convert. His Queen will be so pleased when you finally fall into your rightful place in his arms.

[cherry-dr0p]

Nosferatu content upon ye'

Ft. More Nosfer-cat-u because It's weirdly fun to draw these vampire movie fellas as cats

Drew these last night :3 Slept all day yesterday so I never slept much last night so I just did these

VVV

Look at him. You wouldn't deny him a mere cat treat, would you? Look at his smile. How could you resist such an adorable lil' guy. Huh? You telling me you cant give in? I call blasphemy.

(Okay maybe it does look slightly uncanny/odd... but still!)

Also hehe take your pick of background

Oh, and here's the reference I took from!! A very happy lad. You cannot deny him a mere treat either.

These two because they are very cute also :3

However, Ellen's tail isn't as long, so they can't form the heart shape :( Close enough anyways I say

Hold on a minute..

Who put him in the trash like that? How rude >:(

"What's Nosferatu(1922) about?"

Well you see,,

I kept giggling at this one because I never ever thought in my whole life that I'd draw an old guy from the 1830s doing that goddamn run. But here you go, cursed imagery for you.

Thats all I have. Will I stop my silly Nosferatu antics? Probably never for a while. But it is fun. So that is my excuse.

Also note to self: Do not sleep for a full day again.

[triviallytrue]

The list goes on and on, yeah The list goes on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black Goes, it goes, it goes on and on, yeah

I do a little blasphemy as a treat Instead of pressing send, yeah, I press delete I made a threat thinking that I should retreat Back down, back down and admit defeat

I do a little blasphemy as a treat I kiss a little ass then I take a seat I better black it out, better press delete, press delete Gonna white it out, going blank sheet

The list goes on and on, yeah The list goes on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black Goes, it goes, it goes on and on, yeah

The list goes on and on, yeah Got me feeling like on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black The list goes on and on, yeah

Do I light a lil' fire just to feel the heat? As well as cooling down, yeah, I take a seat Before it hits the shelves, yeah, it's obsolete, obsolete Gonna shred it all, going so discrete

I pump a little iron just to get a grip Gonna get shred, gonna let 'er rip Dead pixels buried deep deep in the crypt I gonna dig it up, gonna go script flip

The list goes on and on, yeah The list goes on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black Goes, it goes, it goes on and on, yeah

The list goes on and on, yeah Got me feeling like on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black The list goes on and on, yeah

Police me Release me Deceive me Baby, when you need me My secret I leak it The list goes on and on like

The list goes on and on, yeah The list goes on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black Can't stop me on and on, yeah

Can't stop me on and on, yeah Never stop me on and on, yeah Taking it back, painting it black The list goes on and on (what?)

apparently this is the song "anon" by Dorian Electra

[bangcakes]

wanted to get myself a lil treat tomorrow but i have to go straight home for a meeting. blasphemy

[azonewithu]

Im too much gor the kind of loser who cant tske one shot. Ot 100 for that matter. No one deserves reslrct on earth so why eould anyone be dumb enough to expect.. only spoiled fuked up hated and deslused by everyone assholes expect respect all the time. And thry titn themselves into beadt ls to get it. Thats not respect or even fear. Its a pathetic attitude that expects perfection. There isbt any je. Youve rver met who can fight ne in any way Jenba. Yeah youte like Emma you like done of thise giys ehen i like you giys snd despise allnof tgem do get like ne nit lije them or you. If God singkes you out youre better thsn allnthose guys dont big them up. The okder ines uiur buddy rudd there didnt fo a fuckn thing to prevent the abuse in that industry i did eith my troops sfter recieving a complaint. If you cane here dtom somewhere rlse font feel bad you didnt create this shit and fuck eith my oeopke. If i get the fucon complaint yourpeopke die or treated horribly in droves. Even the inoocent. Im not honna csll for everyone removsl ot deportation like domr asshole. Ill just brutalize you right here n now. I can do way worsecthan those people but with most of the useless shit they do either. No ones better than anyone here. But i get calls i go to work gor ne frw people i care about. Its not a religions its a divine government that one doesnt have to belong to any religion to be a part of. You just cant be a total loss as a human being. Most of you dont qualify. Uour trapped oin your own bodies and lives just like anyone else here. If ur really happy i gotta say youre really ivnirant in this day n age. Ignorant and Gid wouldnt have you at his table. Maybe you need a lil tragedy in your life to wake you ip. I recoomend to anykbe be like me and Michael. Dint look up. Llok in the eyes. Thats you youre lookn at not done God no matter what the fool has dine thry sint no God. Dint call uour significant othervyour God thats the worst blasphemy of all your money sint God. I am

Jenna Ortega

[joekingpoems]

Often times I’m tryna multiply ENERGY

Maybe it’s too passively My pas-sa-ges surpassin’ me

Makin’ up some alchemy Tha average AL’s’ll hassle me

Far as life’s concerned You niggas know it’s nothing after me/

Chasin’ any spark Blazin in da park after 3

No overtime Overcook da swine calvary

Redefine gravity

Realign minds To realize time Only came from minds Who had anomie/

All my rhymes agony

Actually it’s amnesty

Organized randomly And often lacks strategy

Passably uh tragedy

JoeKing fantasy

Blasphemy

Thinkin it’s uh nigga who out rappin me

Clap ya queen

Treat dat lil pwussy like baptistry

[scalpelsister]

patron saint of being horny on main

[thetragicallynerdy]

Trick or treaaat!

May I request a wee little snippet for Clayton and Mason? I just got so excited when I say yer post!!! Happy Samhain my friend and dinnae mess with the otherworld.

Stay safe!

Hello hello!! Heck yes!! A lil silly hallowe'en UnDeadwood snippet for you <3 (this is a modern au XD) And thank you, Happy Samhain to you too!!! -- "You can't be a cowboy for Halloween every year, Clayton!" Matthew hollered, bending over the bathroom sink to clumsily sweep glittery eye shadow across one of his eyelids. Miriam had offered to come over and help, but he'd insisted he could do it by himself.

"An' why the hell not?" Clayton yelled back from the bedroom. "It's a good costume!"

Matthew eyed his reflection critically, then dabbed more eye shadow on. "It's a lazy ass costume when you're basically a cowboy in real life. All you do is grab a lasso and call it a day!"

"Would you rather I grab a whole-ass horse to ride next time?"

"Or you could just wear the fuckin' costume I made for you!"

There was a low curse from the bedroom, then stomping footsteps, the thud of the already-open bathroom banging further open. "Christ, Matty, did you really have to fuckin' choose this, though? Thought you were opposed to blasphemy."

Matthew turned and grinned. Clayton leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, brow furrowed and mouth turned down in a scowl. He was wearing the costume Matthew had bought for him, with a little bit of Miriam's help - tight red leather pants, a red satin waistcoat, and of course, the red horns situated on top of his head. No shirt under the vest to speak of, those gorgeous arms on full display. He made a handsome devil, and Matthew's hands itched to explore the bare skin just visible at his waist.

"Well don't you look handsome," Matthew purred. He gave up and strode over, sliding his hands onto Clayton's hips, letting his fingertips slip under the edge of the waistcoat. "And you say red isn't your colour."

"It ain't," Clayton grumbled, letting Matthew tug him into a kiss. "Could've gone with black instead."

"Red is much better," Matthew laughed. "Black just makes you look like a gangster who lost his shirt."

The look Clayton was giving him turned exasperated. "I could just put on a shirt, Matt. Since it's fucking October, and I ain't twenty goddamn years old anymore."

"Hell no." Matthew squeezed his bicep, grinning when Clayton rolled his eyes. "Suns out guns out, Mister Clay."

Clayton eyed him. "… then how come you're wearin' a shirt?"

"Because angels don't dress to tempt others," Matthew said primly. Like Clayton, he was wearing trousers, and a vest, but in pure white. A white dress shirt, a halo, and the glittery eye shadow completed the look. "Obviously."

"Never knew a preacher would be such a dirty liar," Clayton laughed. "You just wanna oggle me, ain't that right?"

Matthew's grin grew. "Darlin', of course I want to oggle you." Then he gave Clayton puppy dog eyes. "But also Ms. Trudy from the church is gonna be there, and she doesn't believe that I have a hot younger husband since you never come to the Sunday Service."

"Younger by six fuckin' months Matthew, good lord." Clayton dragged a hand through his hair, scowling when the motion got interrupted by the demon horns. "Fuck it. Fine." He pointed his finger at Matthew. "I'll come and be your hot demon husband for the night. But you owe me."

Matthew laughed, and stepped back to the mirror, picking up the glittery blush. He wanted glitter on his cheekbones, too. "It's a deal."

Come trick or treat in my ask box and give me a pairing or prompt and I'll write you a snippet!

[hyperfixationtimego]

togami with a stutter & mondo with a lisp solidarity, no I do not take criticism (also maybe a lil hard of hearing Hina?? as a treat?? her and Sakura teach the classes sign language)

Celeste somehow thinks that makes her richer than him?? because togami mentions his stutter once and she’s like “wild, you can’t pay to make it go away???” even though she’s had chronic pain her whole life. everyone is like “...that’s not how it works”

I don’t have a lot for mondo but he does have some toxic masculinity surrounding it, like he thinks it makes him less manly? Kyoto ends up accidentally commenting on the masculinity aspect around Hina and Chihiro (she just Forgets other people don’t know that) and they immediately are the Remind Mondo He’s Very Manly club - queer eye anon

oh god absolutely!!!

Honestly the thought of Mondo and Byakuya being friends is very cool & I think it helps keep togami in line. Like he sometimes says nasty shit as a means of compensating for his own insecurity, but Mondo shuts that shit down fast. Like yes pal we’re friends and I’m here for you no matter what but also if you make fun of our classmates again I WILL punch you in the stomach without hesitation <3

And togami’s just *grumble grumble fine*

Ough I think Mondo’s lisp becomes more prominent when he’s emotional, so I’m just imagining him yelling/talking quickly (for whatever reason, be it angry, excited, etc.) and Taka just listening to it and fixating on it because hhrgbrbrvb boyfrien prebty voice ❤️❤️❤️

HoH HINA BELOVED!!!! She and Sakura casually slipping into sign language while the rest of their classmates are trying to decipher what the hell they’re talking about hsbemwbdmssb

Hina also gets very excited about things and sometimes begins talking with her hands while also speaking verbally just because adhd brain says move hands move hands move hands!!! it’s mostly subconscious but sometimes she’ll forget how to say something in sign language and have to pause her entire rant because wait

Also one of my favorite headcanons is actually Sayaka with unilateral hearing loss!!! I always tend to imagine it being on her left side, and she has a hearing aid that helps her with sound localization and discerning speech while there’s background noise present, etc. etc. etc.!!!

She doesn’t wear it for performances because of interference, obviously, but it helps her with everyday interaction!!!

Also she absolutely takes it out/turns it off if Leon and Kazuichi are fighting over something stupid. Like yeah now all the loud noises are garbled and jumbled together but at least she doesn’t have to listen to those fuckers argue over who has the better taste in clothes (spoiler alert it’s neither)

she just daydreams until they both shut up HSKSBDNEM

GDNWMEJD GOD CELESTE BELOVED,,,,SO MEAN,,,,,,

Togami: so yeah back when I was in speech therapy-

Celeste, who meets with Mikan frequently in order to manage her chronic pain symptoms: yOu WeRe In SpEeCh ThErApY??????

also

Celeste 🤝 Korekiyo

Chronic pain buddies (they fucking hate it here)

And,,,,, god absolutely.

Mondo is one of the most gender positive people at Hope’s peak ngl. Like he’s supportive and does his best to make sure everybody’s comfortable, and will beat up transphobes without a second thought. He forgets pronouns every once in a while because his memory is lowkey kinda dogshit and he’s a bit envious of his peers who experience low amounts of dysphoria (or no dysphoria at all) but he is genuinely one of the safest, least judgemental people to be around, so OF COURSE as soon as Chihiro and Hina hear that shit they’re like BLASPHEMY and set out on Operation Mondo Is a Manly Motherfucker and BETTER REALIZE IT RIGHT TF NOW-

[kxllerblond]

look all im saying is clark deserves a priest bf. clark deserves a lil blasphemy ok. a lil enemies to lovers. religious tension. as a treat

[theorynexus]

Yay, 72!~

It suddenly occurs to me that Davepeta becoming a thing might not have only been the logical conclusion of ARquiusprite being included in Lord English (thus allowing Dave and Nepeta to confront their Bro and Equius in destined combat/pacification), but also possibly a reference to Dave’s fursona,  Akwete Purrmusk, whom he once used to RP with Nepeta after first being unable to utilize it with Jade?          Just a weird and sudden though that occurred to me at the end of my last post.  I thought it would be preferable to leave the “Do:” as the last note of said previous page, though.

I am in fact reasonably sure it could technically qualify as the one you grew up with.   That said... awwww, that’s not nice, taking Gamzee away before the battle rather than after/during its tail end.   That means that Gamzee that took place in it lost his conditional mortality and almost certainly just died in the world explosion/black hole.   What a cruel thing to DOOM him to. v.v

I remember this.  Also:  Maybe he hadn’t. At least, not in a non-romantic way.  I certainly can’t remember such an occurrence. 

Oh, umm... is this supposed to have been a reference to him being part of Lord English all along?  Man. There goes another joke flying above all of our heads. Wow.

Yeah. You go back to being too cool for school, not-yet-a-villain!Dirk. Nothing to see here.

Well. That’s an interesting trick. Very magician-like. Almost Houdini-ish. 

I suddenly wonder if Calliope has a sense of smell.   More importantly, gah, I know that smell. Not pretty.  John really should have thought this through more.

Awww. Him having wheezes mixed in there along with coughs is not a good thing. Not very nice or silly at all.   >:

On the other hand, his boos and hoos work very well with the honks, and fit with his Comedy/Tragedy persona duality.  “Sob” being mixed in is a mixed bag, but oh well.    Anyway, his being rescued and treated kindly by Calliope, here, sortof makes sense of his willingness to so pitiably serve the Cherubs later, I guess.   It’s not just a desire to become LE later, but a longsuffering debt payment which he is engaging in with Calliope.  Thus, his Rage is suppressed, especially compared to his violence in the Game Over timeline.

Prison CAN reform some people!   Torturous time in near-suffocating conditions can really make one rethink the decisions one’s made in one’s life, regardless of the major reveals concerning the fictionality/fates of such people, I guess.

Locked being semi-ironic, here. Because most certainly does this revelation stay with him; yet at the same time, he indeed also is corrupted by the influence of Caliborn and willingly ends up serving him+becoming part of LE.   ***shrugs***

***raises an eyebrow***    What an interesting wording and thought.   I did not think that Calliope would be the kind to be so performative like this!  (Or at least worn down/out of patience~)

Man, I don’t need to hear your inherently biased explanation. I mean, others might, but the fact that it’s coming from you and not the narrator isn’t going to help people actually recognize the tragedy inherent in your existence!

...   ...   ...    Aaaaaaaannnnnd this makes me think that Gamzee is actually being insincere, considering he is not actually in fact addressing the true problems that caused him to snap and become evil:  namely, Tavros’s death and Lil Cal. None of that other stuff affected him at all other than to cause him to become more susceptible to the aforementioned and much more important events, subsequent to his running out of the pie that his neglectful father figure allowed him to poison himself and/or rot his think pan with. Mind you, I’m sure that the initial burst of rage that would lead him to storm off would in fact be a result of his subjugglator/religious upbringing, but... Well, if those two events had not actually occurred, I’m sure that he would not have taken up the carefully planned---     you know what, given his rant to Dave about using his chucklevoodoos to make their universe terminal as a result of the blasphemies that Dave gave him via the Miracles music video, I have changed my mind.   I will admit that his upbringing DID have an influence on his actions, beyond making him fall to the perfect moment of weakness for LE to influence and direct him.  I’d say that if I had to measure it, the responsibility of his earlier life would be something between 30 and 49.9% of the overall reason for his behavior during the series of events called Murderstuck. His only mentioning the upbringing side of the coin still makes me question how honest he is being, though.  Having him explain it in such a manner really makes him seem to just be making excuses in a blatantly insincere manner.

Uhhh... Karkat?   Dangit, I knew it was going to be Terezi, but Karkat seemed the more straight-forward choice to inform before her.   Ugh.     Darn me and my refusal to make guesses that seem a bit less secure, sometimes.

Yeah... he probably deserves one.  Gosh darned prerequisite hidden conditions for the proliferation of reality, and the fact that you don’t want to---   wow, why does Karkat have tarps the color of his blood on his house [I forget the troll term] if he is trying to hide said blood color?   I’m sorry. It’s just that Let’s Read Homestuck is playing on my TV for some reason or another, and the thought suddenly occurred to me. Hivebent has obviously just begun.    Anyway, yeah, you wouldn’t want to get Gamzee raging out of control, at this point~

Yeeaaahhh.   Not much to say, indeed.  What can you do?  

...   I take it Terezi’s not going to be split between timelines?  Or is she?  Hmm.  It feels like events over there should remain singular; meanwhile, stuff in Earth C are divided.   I wonder if he’ll continue to talk to Terezi for a long, long time to come, despite the fact that John from the Meat Epilogue never really did until he met up with her again.    (She is right, though. He really didn’t deserve redemption. It’s just... necessary.  Gosh, he’s going to probably screw things up so badly, socially.  I shudder to think of the nonsense that shall result. Shall Earth C[andy] truly become the Paradise Planet that was prophesied? I guess that would make sense of his statement that the mirthful messiahs were both him and ***expletive*** him, mayhaps.  If he, for some time, spends his life as a sort of religious leader in this timeline, before moving on to the far future to help Calliope and Caliborn in their youth. )

Wow. This is a dramatic reversal of the other situation: her feeling like it’s been far, far longer than it has for the other John, once they do meet up.  Veeerrry interesting, seeing the mirror’s faces juxtaposed like this.

Irony.  Also:  WHAT THE HECK IS PSEP?!?!?!     Also also:  Way to go, you derp-head. He’s the one she’d least want to revisit.  Bringing him back practically assures she stays out of this version of the universe you live in!

It’s nice to see them both in such high spirits and playful humors, though. :3

Gosh, I hope that no one’s beginning to feel pity toward that pile of horns.  No one wants to see the disgusting filth that might emerge as a result.  The world doesn’t need more of that.

Yeah, he wouldn’t be able to. This is genuinely a huge shift in the balance of the world, though.  The beginning of a dark, dark carnival of mayhem to come, probably.   “performatively” seals the deal, especially with him speaking to the crowd like that.   ***shudders***

[perspective-series]

A Third Perspective (12)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, and unwanted grabbing/touching

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters!)

��Roman raced home, taking the stairs up to his apartment two at a time as his bag swung to the side. Biology seemed to last longer than ever before today, as Roman’s mind had been preoccupied for the entire two hours with a certain tiny friend. Finally Roman reached his own door, swinging it wide open as he waltzed inside.

 Despite knowing there was a borrower in his bag, the human was not being careful at all. Virgil found himself sliding back and forth in the bag, becoming disoriented and even hitting the wall with his sore arm. Which sent a sharp pang up it. He groaned as the bag finally calmed down, allowing him to sit in the middle and calm himself.

 He was suddenly much more worried for Patton’s state if this was how the human had been treating him.

 Roman plopped down on the couch, setting the bag down on the cushion next to him. He turned to it, viewing it like a child coming down the stairs on Christmas. Not wanting to wait any longer, Roman reached his hand in and grabbed the borrower inside, pulling them up into the light.

 Virgil expected it, as soon as the bag had stopped moving and he felt it being set down, but he really wasn’t prepared for it. He tried to scoot away, but the hand grabbed him no problem. He struggled within the grip as he was taken out of the bag and suddenly face to face with another human.

 “Ah!” Roman let out a startled shriek at the unexpected tiny person. In his surprise, Roman’s grip loosened and the borrower fell back into the bag.

 Virgil yelled as he fell back into the bag, groaning as he landed on his arm. “What the heck?!” He yelled up before realizing what he did.

 Roman winced, peering into the bag to get a second look at the stranger. “My sincerest apologies. I just…. I wasn’t expecting you.” Roman gazed around the rest of the bag. “Wait just a moment, where is Patton?”

 Virgil hadn’t expected an apology. That was...weird, coming from a human. At the question, he shrugged. He knew Pat was probably with Logan...but what would this human do with that information?

 “And who are you?” Roman squinted suspiciously, not sure if the borrower was holding back information. Roman found himself now bursting with questions, pulling the borrower back out in a loose fist.

 “Ah, hey!” Virgil yelled at being picked up again, before closing his mouth tight. What was with him and suddenly yelling at a human. Did he have a death wish? Either way, he found himself struggling within the grip.

 “What’s your name?” Roman turned the tiny person this way and that, inspecting him from all angles. “Where’d you come from? Why were you in my bag?”

 Virgil bit his tongue and didn’t even look at the human as he continued to struggle in the grip. If this was Logan, he’d be inclined to answer because he knew what Logan would do if he didn’t. But maybe...he could get away with not speaking?

 Probably not, but he was going to go as long as he could.

 “...Why are you so quiet?” Roman frowned, already missing Patton’s bubbly demeanor. What had happened to that little guy, anyhow? Roman felt a large mix of anxiety and fear brewing inside of him as he began to think where the borrower might be. After all, Roman was the one who had told Patton nothing was going to happen. If Patton was in trouble, it was Roman’s fault.

 Virgil simply glared at him, giving the human a look as if to say ‘why do you think?’ His struggles continued, but he could already feel himself getting tired.

 “Oh, that’s right.” Roman thought back to when he and Patton had first met. It felt as though it was only yesterday. Mostly because, well, it was. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Roman looked down at the borrower with a brief look of pity.

 Virgil stopped at that, to send the human another glare. “Well duh!” He couldn’t help but say. His heart beat hard and fast inside his chest. Yes, of course, he was scared. Who wouldn’t be when faced with a literal giant who has you in their grasp!

 “It’s okay!” Roman chuckled slightly at the response he got, glad they seemed to be getting somewhere. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, lil’ guy! I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it.”

 “You already have!” This was what Virgil hated, the human’s saying one thing but doing another.

 “Wait, what?” Roman’s eyes widened, quickly moving his hands about so that the borrower sat in his cupped palms. “I’m so sorry, I truly didn’t think it was so far of a fall…”

 While Virgil was glad the fingers were no longer constricting him, being in the hand was still less than ideal. “Not just that, but your carelessness walking up the stairs and just letting the bag I was in swing whichever way it wanted! Honestly, I’m worried about the state you left Patton in!” Virgil glared at the human for a moment, before realizing what he had said, about Patton. His hand flew to his mouth. Crap.

 Now the human would know that he did, in fact, know about Patton.

 “Now hold on just a moment!” Roman transferred the borrower so that he was only cupped in one hand, using the other to point an accusing finger. “Granted, I may have been a bit careless then, but I am doing my best. I never laid a finger on Patton! I would never dream of it. Patton is my friend, all I want to do is protect him and keep him from getting hurt. And if you have any information about his whereabouts you’d better spit it out so we can find him before he gets himself into trouble.”

 If Patton was where Virgil thought he was, then he was already in some serious trouble. At the very least he was sure that Logan wouldn’t be revealing their kind. But that didn’t mean Logan was going to stop with his ‘research’ either. A sudden picture of Patton being held in a beaker broke his heart and made him worry about Patton even more.

 But this human didn’t seem much better, honestly, no human would be better. So despite his worry for Patton and his fear towards this human, he glared. “And what if I don’t?”

 “Well, I, ah…” Roman found himself momentarily at a loss for words, his finger dropping back down to his side. He hadn’t actually thought that far.

 “I suppose I’d just find him alone then, eventually.” Roman shrugged. “But I would certainly think very poorly of you. Especially if you truly think of yourself as a friend of Patton’s. How could you live with yourself knowing that Patton suffered longer simply because you didn’t trust someone who was trying to help?”

 Virgil froze, gritting his teeth. “Don’t.” Virgil stood up and glared at the human. “Patton is my best friend. And the only reason I’m not telling you where I think he is, is because I’m protecting him.”

 Virgil wanted to get Patton away from Logan. He really did. But he didn’t want to trade Logan for this human either. Despite how intimidating Logan is and all his research, Virgil was never hurt. So while Patton might be scared and stuck in a beaker at least he would physically be fine.

 But with this human? Well, he had only been with him for a few minutes and he had already been hurt. This human was careless and could very well be lying to him. So if he had to, he would find a way to get Patton away from Logan himself.

 “Protecting him from what?” Roman scoffed. Honestly, this borrower was so judgy.

 “From you!” Virgil exclaimed, almost as if the answer had been obvious. Which, to Virgil, it was. He didn’t let up on his glare.

 “I am not the enemy here!” Roman emphasized his point by bringing his free palm to his chest.

 Virgil scoffed. “You keep telling yourself that.” The borrower crossed his arms and looked away, even though the action sent a spike of panic in him.

 “I will, Mr. doubtful dormouse.” Roman huffed. He was determined to prove he was worthy of all borrower’s trust, even this stubborn one who still had refused to share his name.

 Virgil highly doubted that. “Can you put me down?” Virgil decided it was at least worth it to try to get the human to put him down.

 “...Oh, right.” Roman realized that he had been holding the little guy for a while. So, he set his palm down on the coffee table.

 Virgil was actually kind of surprised that the human had listened. He slid off the hand and onto the coffee table, looking up at the human before looking away. His arms were back to being crossed. He looked at the apartment around him, already trying to come up with a plan of escape.

 Roman slid off the couch, coming to rest on the floor in order to be more eye level with the table. He crossed his arms, placing them on the edge before resting his chin atop.

 Virgil looked back towards the human at the movement. Watching him warily. As the human settled and looked at him, Virgil couldn’t help but ask, “What?”

 “Now will you tell me about Patton?” Roman said, daring to be hopeful with a small smile.

 “No.”

 Roman deflated slightly, but he didn’t give up. “Come on, what’s it going to take for you to trust me?”

 “Leave and never come back.” Virgil deadpanned.

 “Stop being so dramatic.” Roman pouted. He tried to think back to the things he knew Patton enjoyed. “We could watch a movie. Are you a Disney fan, too?”

 “Disney?” Of course, he knew what movies were, but Disney was another thing. He had never heard of the word before. Was it...a type of movie?

 “Oh, you poor soul.” Roman reached across the table, grabbing the remote and turning the tv on. Netflix was still open from earlier that morning when he and Patton watched Aladdin. “That’s Disney,” Roman said, pointing to the screen.

 “Huh.” Virgil had to admit he was kind of intrigued. Not that he would let the human know that. “Looks boring.”

 Roman made a noise of offense. “Blasphemy!” He declared, already clicking play. “Disney is a series of beautiful masterpieces, this being one of them. Prepare to be enthralled, oh ye of little faith.”

 “Oh joy.” Virgil looked back at the TV as the human clicked play. Virgil, while actually interested in the movie, didn’t feel like watching it.

 He was then struck with a sudden realization though. If the human was distracted by the TV, he just might be able to escape! This was perfect! So, Virgil pretended to watch the movie but kept an eye on the human.

 Roman, meanwhile, was keeping an eye on the borrower. He had already watched Aladdin earlier in the day and was more focused on gauging his new friend’s reaction. Unfortunately, the little guy seemed to spend more time turning back to face him than actually watching the screen. Then he would quickly turn back, as if hoping Roman wouldn’t take notice. Roman frowned, wondering what was up. Was the borrower still just frightened? He did seem a lot jumpier than Patton. Although thinking back, Patton was pretty jumpy too.

 Virgil was getting frustrated because the human was paying more attention to him than the actual movie. Virgil mentally groaned. How was he supposed to escape now?

 “Are you enjoying it?” Roman asked hopefully, wondering if this was just how all borrowers watched movies.

 Virgil had no clue what was even going on in the movie, spending all his focus on the human. “No.”

 Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was seemingly trying to annoy the human, what with him being a human and all, but Virgil had to admit it was kind of fun. But he couldn’t ignore how dangerous it was either.

 Roman let out an irritated exhale so strong he could see it ruffle the borrower’s hair.

 “Well, you could have just said so!” Roman was disappointed that he had both not enjoyed the film and hadn’t felt brave enough to speak up about it.

 “Could I have?” Because Virgil had a feeling Roman would have tried to make him watch it regardless.

 “Of course!” Roman reached over to the remote again, clicking back to the menu. “There are plenty of other Disney films we can watch.”

 Virgil narrowed his eyes. “And what if I said I didn’t want to watch anything.”

 “That’s fine.” Roman insisted, shutting off the screen. “I was just suggesting something for us to do, and I knew that at least Patton enjoyed this so I thought you’d be the same. Nevertheless, it is clear you are two very, very different individuals.” Roman pasted his signature smile back on, determined to stay upbeat. “So! What do you want to do then?”

 Virgil thought about answering, but he decided to stay silent. Even though it didn’t go well for him with Logan.

 Roman glared down at the borrower. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool despite the fact that this emo nightmare seemed determined to test his patience.

[frenzystokedbye]

@fierceathlete​​  asketh:

"Hey Jerkoff!" she snapped, a grin on her face before she ran at him and tried to bodyslam him to the side, "Happy Halloween! I heard at least one of you guys have eaten dirt so my treat to you is helping you get to the ground just a little quicker."

Lil' Red came with the roaring passion of a freight train and electric will nipping her heels. She was a flame that could not be extinguished. A firecracker launched into the night sky that burned your retinas with explosions of light. A flare showering the once dark forest in red.   

She held hope – hope in a place were it was sentenced to the gallows and fear crawled on the sleeves of flesh like blight. In retrospect, terror was what kept their fucked souls from veering in the wrong direction. Kept them on their toes. They needed to be. Some of these motherfuckers could fucking hear you blink. 

At what price? Their stability. Every pin drop shoved their heart up their throat without permission. Every shape was a person in the dark. They suspected the worst. They feared the worst. 

Not I, said Little Red. She was special, wasn't she?

But even some skinny Brave Bitch got punished. 

He was the encompassing ocean beyond the train-rails and the ravine and he awaited her arrival. She slam dunked herself face first into an omnipresent mass bubbling with blasphemy and grey methods of retaliation. Joey staggered from the onslaught of power, but he snatched her wrist, fought her and wrestled her on her back. Her hubris would be her downfall and he'd crush her with her own weight. He'd pin her down as she’d struggle for survival and he'd only release her when he pleased.

“Eat dirt?” He smiled with teeth and shoved an invasive knee between her tits and a hand down on her head in an attempt to keep his leverage. 

The killer reached above her head, grasped a handful of dirt and pried her jaw apart, teeth and all, with the butt of his palm on her chin and his forearm digging into her features above her nose. A messy effort but he managed to shove the dirt inside. He gripped a hand over her mouth then, stifling any attempts to spit it back out. 

“Nah, Baby. In this house, you eat shit.”