#and i started reaching for my torch and pitchfork

[sans-joke-book]

So, to kick off the spookiest time of the year, I want to present a 2-sentence horror story:

The year is 2031, and the trailer for the 5th Sonic movie just dropped. Blaze and Silver both appear on screen, and when Silver opens his mouth to speak...

he has the voice of Chris Pratt.

[coeurcanelle]

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬˙⋆✮

pairing:cowgirl!ellie x bartender!reader

°~♡~°

°~♡~°

for valentines day, you and the cowgirl you promised never to get attached to,offer each other gifts. suspiciously thoughtful gifts.

tags:fluff,loser ellie

a/n:I'm 4 days late but its cowgirl Ellie so it's fine

It was the 14th of February. You had just finished your shift, the scent of vanilla filling your home as you focused on not burning your homemade cake.

Knock, knock.

Then silence. And another knock.

You didn’t need to open the door to know who was standing on the other side.

It couldn’t be anybody else.

Quickly, you made your way to the front door, turned the knob, and opened it.

Cowboy hat.

Yep, it was your favorite cowgirl in town.

"Sweetheart," she said softly, the nickname slipping past her lips before she could stop it. Her smile reached her emerald eyes, and it would take—well, something serious—to wipe it off her freckled face.

Your own smile widened; it had already been there the moment you recognized her knocking.

She wasn’t empty-handed, not on this day of the year.

Nope. She held a bouquet—lilies, dahlias, and roses, all carefully arranged together in a beautiful display.

"Thought today was a special day," she said, tilting her head slightly. "And that your place could use a little… how do I put this? Less tragic, more aesthetic." She extended the bouquet toward you, fighting the urge to tuck a flower behind your ear.

You chuckled, carefully taking the bouquet. "Not you too."

Earlier at the bar, plenty of cowboys had offered you roses and letters—it wasn’t unusual. You were used to gestures of affection and gratitude for your service. But none of their gifts were the ones you had been looking forward to receiving today.

"What kind of cowgirl would I be if I didn’t spoil the prettiest songbird in town?" she teased, pride swelling in her chest. She mentally congratulated herself for not stammering or—accidentally—letting a 'my girl' slip instead of 'prettiest songbird'.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully. "Thought cowgirls dont get attached."

She looked surprised for a second.

You and Ellie had met at the bar, of course. And quickly, she became your favorite customer—more than you would ever admit.

At first, it started with free drinks. Then, you’d take her song requests, singing her favorites at the bar. Then, fingers grazing while passing her drink. Then, soft kisses on her cheek for goodbyes. Then, tender kisses on the lips.

Still, she kept her cool, as always. "Hey, those folks all got you flowers, but that doesn’t mean they’re wifing you up. Unlike me, who—"

Shit.

What are you doing, Ellie?

"I mean, what? Who said that? Not me."

"No strings attached." That’s what you told each other every time. Ellie wasn’t the type to settle down with her cowgirl lifestyle, and you? You weren’t looking for anything serious either.

"Mmh"you narrowed your eyes, her cheeks burning red like a tomato.

"Don’t 'mmh'me," she nudged your arm playfully. Keeping her hands to herself around you had always been a challenge.

"Where’d you buy them?" you asked.

"Buy?" she scoffed. "I got them myself, ‘bun." Her grin was proud. "I was out riding with Shimmer, and we— listen, we gracefully stumbled upon this cute lil’ meadow near your bar. Guess what? I tripped—which happens, like, once in a lifetime—and the flowers just magically landed in my hands." She watched you bite your lip, trying not to laugh. "Couldn’t just plant ‘em back in."

If she could, she would’ve taken every flower from that meadow.

For you.

"Yeah, spread that story—tell everyone you do magic and watch them show up with torches and pitchforks the next second."

You laughed at your own joke, and Ellie joined in.

"Thanks, though. I’ll make sure they don’t accidentally end up in my trash bin," you teased, making her roll her eyes.

It would sting—no, hurt—if you really threw her gift away. But the way you carefully held the bouquet told her it wouldn’t land in the trash.

Maybe—hopefully—somewhere close to your beating heart.

You opened the door wider, inviting her in. But then, she hesitated.

She reached into her pocket.

Almost forgot.

"I also, uh…" Her fingers brushed against something small. She had spent the entire day before debating if it was too much, if it would scare you off.

Still, the thought that it spoke small volumes of her feelings won.

"You got more? You didn’t—"

And now she was holding out a small red box.

"Open it," she said, watching you carefully. You swore you could see a sparkle or two glinting in her eyes.

You hadn’t expected something so thoughtful from her. Not that she didn’t know how to treat a girl, but…

It made you wonder if all those stolen kisses had ignited something in her heart.

Still, you set the bouquet aside and took the small box,opening it gently.

Your heart warmed at the sight.

A necklace. With a cute heart-shaped pendant.

"Let me guess," you smirked. "You fell off Shimmer again and accidentally bought someone’s necklace, while being just concussed enough to let the vendor pick the cutest one for you?"

You reached for your neck, trying to clasp the necklace on yourself.

Instantly, Ellie stepped behind you, brushing your hair away. Her fingers grazed yours as she worked to fasten it.

"Close," she chuckled. "But still wrong."

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced at the closeness.

The necklace was secured, and Ellie stepped back, turning you around by your hips.

"I don’t fall off Shimmer that much."

Her gaze fell to the necklace.

You didn’t look exactly how she had imagined.

You looked even more beautiful.

Your eyes met hers, almost entranced.

Cute.

"You know this doesn’t mean I’m yours, right?" you teased.

Ellie instantly looked away.

What was wrong with her?

She always thought she never wanted to settle down.

So why was her mind suddenly filled with images of you and her, riding Shimmer together… forever?

She cleared her throat, trying to sound put-together. Ignoring the pang of disappointment in her chest.

"Just a friendly gesture. From your favorite cowgirl." She scratched the back of her neck, nervous again.

It was becoming a familiar feeling around you.

"The only person you get to kiss," she added.

She wasn’t wrong.

"Sometimes," you smirked.

Ellie’s eyes flickered to your lips before darting back up, refusing to let her thoughts wander.

"Feelings can change before you realize," she said, softer this time—like a gentle spring breeze.

You tilted your head. "You hated me before, cowgirl?"

Ellie blinked, her brain short-circuiting.

"What? N-no, that’s not—ugh." She sighed, mentally cursing herself. It’s not like she had been practicing how to confidently respond to your teasing every time before knocking at your place.

"Yeah, I absolutely despised you," she deadpanned.

More like you absolutely despised her

Fuck.

She should have said that.

"Never heard someone say that while grinning like a bunny high on carrots," you teased.

She dropped her smile and threw you a glare.

She wasn’t a fucking bunny. Or high on carrots.

But wait—bunnies were cute.

So that meant…

You thought she was cute?

"Can you quit bullying me already?" she groaned, nudging your arm again.

The smell of vanilla reached her nose and for once it didn't smell like a burnt cake.

Her lips curled into a smirk. "I know you got something for me somewhere."

"Somewhere… how did you know?"

Her smirk turned into a grin. She knew you thought about her—maybe as much as she thought about you.

"I think it’s in my trash bin. Hold on, lemme check."

Maybe she was getting her hopes up too much.

But maybe…

Maybe she wasn’t.

♡°♡°♡

After dashing to your bedroom, you rummaged through your drawer, searching for the gift you had been preparing for this very moment.

Your fingers brushed against cold metal.

The revolver Joel had given Ellie.

She had come into the bar one night, a rare pout on her lips, complaining about how she had broken it and couldn’t fix it because of some missing piece.

You weren’t just good at mixing drinks—you were good with your hands in other ways too. And when you saw the way her eyes lit up at your offer to help, you knew you had to fix it.

Now, it rested in your palm, good as new.

Wrapped in a pink bow.

A rush of excitement coursed through you.

You hoped it wasn’t too much—just enough to make Ellie happy about using her gun again.

Hiding the gun behind your back, you stepped out of your room, closing the door behind you with a soft thud.

She was sitting on the couch, looking comfortable, like she was in her own home.

"Keeping the trash bin in the bedroom? Questionable placement," she chuckled, her mood noticeably lighter than before.

You were sure she had rehearsed teasing you in her head, refining the perfect delivery until her brain and mouth worked in sync.

"Does this look like trash to you?"

Her eyes widened as you brought your hands forward, revealing the gun.

It looked usable.

Like it had never been broken before.

And solid enough not to break so easily again.

Unbelievable.

"No fucking way." She stood up, taking it carefully, her eyes locking onto yours.

She looked at you as if you were a magician capable of bending logic into mind-blowing miracles.

"You're a damn wizard," she murmured, calmer than the storm of surprise raging in her mind.

You chuckled, casually explaining how you fixed it, leaving out the part where you spent hours searching for replacement parts, scouring through every tool and guide you could find.

To you, it was just a simple favor.

To her? It meant everything.

Because this wasn’t just any revolver.

It had belonged to Joel.

She had sworn to herself she’d never get to use it again.

Just when her shoulders were sinking under the weight of her recklessness, you had lifted the burden of an unfair universe off of her.

And no words were big enough to express her immense gratitude.

"Thanks… really. I thought I'd have to—"

"Got you this too." you interrupted, grinning.

Her gaze flickered to your other hand.

And then—

Her eyes widened again.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

She stared at the plushie in disbelief.

A cowboy teddy bear.

Decked out in a blue flannel and jeans, tiny belt included. And of course—holstered with a tiny gun. A real cowboy.

For a long second, she said nothing.

Then—

"How the hell did you know?" she demanded, mind racing.

You shrugged, playing it cool. "I have my ways."

Total bullshit.

You had discovered her secret accidentally.

It had all started with a kiss.

Her lips had been on yours the second you stepped into her house after your shift, her boot kicking the door shut behind her,her hands gripping your hips, holding you close—like even the smallest distance might set her on fire.

She had walked you backward, step by step, toward her bedroom—until suddenly, she broke away.

"Wait a sec," she muttered.

Before you could ask why, she had vanished into her room, slamming the door shut.

Then—

Chaos.

Objects falling. Closet doors slamming. The distinct sound of a bed being shoved against the floor.

And—was she about to start mopping the floor, too?

When she finally emerged again, breathless, hair messier than before, she tried to act so casual—like she hadn’t just gone into full panic mode.

But you had seen them.

A glimpse of soft fur. The small round ears peeking out from under her bed before she violently shoved them further beneath it with her boot.

She thought you hadn’t noticed.

You had.

And now, here she was.

Face flushed.

Busted.

"No plushies were harmed or mistreated, okay?" she said quickly, already on the defense. "I just… hid them. ‘Cause, y’know, they would’ve totally fucked up the mood and stuff."

"You better think nice of Ellie Junior," you teased, "and spare him the terrible living conditions beneath your bed—dust and all."

She froze.

"Ellie what?" she sputtered. "Okay, first of all, I clean under my bed regularly—"

"Like every year," you cut her off.

She silenced you with a finger against your lips.

"Like every week," she corrected, her voice sultry, desperate to sound convincing. "And you're not naming this lil' dude Ellie Junior."

She took the plushie gently, already picturing where she would place him.

First, she had to give him a name. A better name.

Actually—no. First, she had to thank you.

Still, she couldn’t believe you weren’t teasing or mocking her about this whole thing. You had picked this gift with her in mind. A little cowboy. A cute little cowboy. Which meant…

"He kinda looks like you," you mused. "With the clothes, the gun, and—"

You grabbed Ellie’s hat, gently placing it on the teddy bear’s head, its frame nearly disappearing beneath her hat.

"The signature Ellie Junior the First hat."

"Yeah...no"Ellie deadpanned. "Not Ellie Junior. Not Williams. Not anything stupid.

Instead, she reached for her hat and placed it on your head.

You blinked.

Ellie smirked.

"Now that’s a look," she muttered,fighting the urge to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and let her fingers linger on your cheek

You adjusted the hat, clearing your throat. Then, doing your best impression of her, you dropped your voice lower.

"Hey sweetheart, s-s-till got a bottle of whiskey for m-me?"

Ellie’s jaw dropped.

Then she burst out laughing.

"I do not sound like that," she argued.

You smirked. "Sounded like a cute cowgirl to me."

Ellie blinked.

Did she hear that right?

"Really?"

You nodded, your voice softer now. "Yeah."

Damn.

You sounded honest.

Was this a first?

If it was, she hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

"Say it again," she murmured, stepping closer.

Your heart did that thing again.

The warming-up thing.

So, you spoke with your melting heart.

"You’re cute, cowgirl."

Ellie’s eyes lit up again, sparkling with happiness, affection, and excitement.

But mostly…

Hope.

Without any warning,she leaned in, closing the last sliver of distance between you.

Her lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss—the kind that could melt every block of ice in Antarctica with the fire of something so much more than platonic.

She wasn’t afraid to drown you in the waves of her affection.

Not when your lips moved with the same tenderness, whispering a thousand words neither of you had dared to speak.

Maybe you didn’t mind this turning into something serious.

Maybe commitment wasn’t something to be afraid of.

Not with Ellie.

Because in this moment, you knew—

You didn’t want to be anybody else’s.

And neither did she.

[ameliathornromance]

"(Y/N)!" Your Orc partner roared.

Where had you gone? It was a routine raid, you should have stayed back and help everyone move supplies.

The fire that had been set to burn out most of the humans (your idea) licked the sky, buildings collapsed with a plume of ash.

It had all gone wrong. The whole point of the fire was to get human beings running and out of the way so that the Caravan could run in, take what they needed and leave.

But that wasn't what happened. The humans had fought back. They had started to drag up water from the well, and tossed it over the fires. The Orcs had no choice but to retreat.

But the humans drew their swords. And the Orcs had no choice but to defend themselves.

Bloodshed had ensued and the fire had gotten out of hand. Once your Orc had retreated to go and get you out of the fray, you were gone. You should have been hiding by the treeline, away from the madness.

"(Y/N)!" Your boyfriend shouted again. He ran past bodies, bodies of his own and humans too. The blood that had spilled made it difficult to maintain your boyfriend's balance. He slipped, and caught himself way too many times.

But he reached the centre of the town, he saw you. You clutched a bucket of water to your chest, soot smeared across your face while another Orc barked at you.

"(Y/N)!" Your Orc Boyfriend bellowed.

You jumped, but the other Orc snatched your bucket before you dropped it. He ran off as your Orc Boyfriend approached you.

"I-I..." you began but you couldn't finish.

"What are you doing?! You need to get out of here, now!" He snapped.

"But the Orcs, they're injured-"

"Don't worry about them, get to the wagon at the other side of town, my others will keep you safe." When you didn't move, your Orc barked, "now, (Y/N)!"

You gritted your teeth. You knew this was no time to argue, but you didn't want to just leave him here. But as a collection of angry human roars echoed from the other side of the village, you flinched.

"Go, now!" Your Orc turned away from you and to the human mob getting closer and closer.

"I'm not-"

"I'll be fine! Now go!" Your Orc Boyfriend shoved you away from him. Once you had the momentum, you took off into a sprint. You knew he was right, there was no way that you could defend yourself from that many people.

A few other Orcs ran past you to join the fight. You still didn't turn back. You knew if you turned back now, you wouldn't be able to keep running away.

The wagon, holding a couple of barrels came into view. The only Orc standing, beckoned to you, "come on!" He bellowed.

Your lungs burned, your legs ached, your arms were sore from helping the survivors. As soon as you reached the wagon, the Orc grabbed you and sat you amongst the barrels, providing you good cover. Should the humans decide to use bow and arrows.

You dared to look back. Where was your partner? Where'd he-

An answer appeared before you could even finish your thought. Your amazing boyfriend, barrelled out from a cloud of smoke, brandishing his axe. Humans nearby flinched, screamed, some even roared and swung back in defence.

The wagon had started to move, drawn by the Orc who had put you on the back of it.

A few humans sprinted to keep up your boyfriend, waving torches and pitchforks. But they only fell further and further behind as your Orc raced to catch up with the wagon.

You leaned forwards, holding your hand out to him, "hurry!"

With one final leap, he grasped onto your arm and crashed onto the wagon.

The wagon creaked under his massive weight. But it did not break. The supplies that the Orcs had stolen rustled as your boyfriend adjusted himself.

He lay on his back, panting, huffing.

"Damn human bastards." He breathed. "The others were good diversions. They said they'd catch up-"

You flung yourself on top of him and squeezed him tightly. Your heart thundered hard in your chest, adrenaline still rushing through your system.

Your Orc said nothing, instead, just placing his large hands on your back and holding you there.

It was a close call. Too close. For either of you.

"Promise me you'll never do that again?" You looked up at him. "Please?"

Your Orc Boyfriend looked at you and huffed, "Only if you promise to never go into another raid like that again."

Nodding, you settled your head on his chest again. His heart had slowed to a dull thumping.

As the voices of the angry humans died out, you felt yourself relax. You were both safe. And that's all that mattered.

Patreon

[delta-pavonis]

Ficlet: Naga's Boon

For @amielot (Apparently? Like, I started this AGES ago and only have vague recollections of the server conversation that started it... Could I search the Discord? Yes. Am I lazy? Also yes.)

Dreamling AU || rated G before the break, rated E after the break (cw: nagas have hemipenes (two penises, kinda) like all snakes and lizards, but not the more, uh, horrific looking options if you Google it, monsterfucker Hob Gadling, description of non-human genitalia, Hob is a bit of a size queen and a cumslut and we love that for him, Dream has to be restrained during sex for Plot Reasons™️, naga Dream wearing a leather chest harness might be one of the hottest images I have come up with recently ngl)

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

"You return." His voice rumbles out of the depths. It may have been more than a lifetime ago, but Hob remembers well His voice.

Hob's immediate vicinity is brightly lit thanks to the high quality of the candle in his lantern and yet the way in front of him still looks like an endless abyss of starless midnight. "Well. Yes. You said that you wanted to know what it was like. That we should meet again on this day in one hundred years. I will keep my end of the bargain, if it provides me this gift."

The susurration of scales along damp stone is amplified by the cave's mouth as He approaches. "You name it a gift? So you still want to live?"

"Oh yes." He nods vigorously enough to cause the lantern hanging from the end of the tall staff he carries to swing.

The light sloshes wildly back and forth between the rock walls, causing a small grouping of bats to hiss and squeak before they take to the air. Hob ducks as they flitter overhead and when he turns back to the inside of the cave He is there.

For a moment it is as if a torso hovers in the darkness, His bone-pale skin almost as reflective as a cat's eyes. He embodies an ideal that only the greatest artists and students of the human form could conceive of... except where hips should dip to thighs and groin, is shadow and fire.

Human-appearing skin gives way to wide horizontal belly scales, each bright flame yellow in the middle fading to ember orange then to ruby red at the edges. Everywhere else, serpentine coils of which Hob sees no end, is the shining black of obsidian.

Hob holds the lantern-staff aside as the ancient naga approaches to within arms reach. He has to look up to meet those hypnotizing eyes, blue-black, just as he remembered. "What must I do," he pauses, breathless, "to keep this boon?"

"You are more than passing brave, Robert Gadling, to return to my lair, apparent promise of renewed immortality or no. What have you been doing for the last hundred years?" He lowers his torso as he speaks, until their faces are more of a height.

"Oh, same as before, soldiering mainly. Bit of banditry now and-wait" Hob's brain catches up with the conversation. "Did you say apparent promise?"

The naga's smirk, the barest curl of rose-pink lips, makes Hob shiver. "Well caught." He shakes his head, long black hair falling over one shoulder, and if Hob did not know any better he would think the ancient creature amused. "Your so-called boon is not subject to my whims nor those of any other. You earned it fairly and so it will not fade until you will it so."

Earned it fairly. What Hob had done was save the life of another naga from a pitchfork and torch-bearing mob. She was dark of skin, hair, and scale, yet this one had called her 'sister.'

"Oh, so I..."

"May leave, if you'd rather."

Hob pauses, bites his lip as he considers his options. This creature must have knowledge beyond his wildest imaginings, stories of things forgotten by most of those alive today. He wants to know more. "And if I'd rather not?" The naga's head shifts backwards on his neck, surprise widening his eyes; that was clearly not an answer he considered possible. "I do not know when you last went and saw the outside world, but I could tell you my story..." He hesitates before adding, "If you would be willing to tell me a bit of yours?"

The naga rushes towards Hob, stopping only a hair's breadth away, mouth open and forked tongue flickering out all around Hob's face, brushing against his forehead and cheeks and chin. Hob is so close that the naga's fangs are visible in his open mouth even though they remain retracted, pulled backwards by thin membranes that glint almost silver in the light.

The tongue disappears into a scowling face, brow drawn in confusion. "You do not smell of lies."

"That would likely be because I am not lying." For a moment Hob worries he has overstepped, been too casual, but then a glimmer of mirth softens the naga's expression.

He nods his head once, accepting the answer. "Then tell me, what has changed in your world since I saw you last?"

So that was as far as I got with the intro. Then there was this bit of gratuitous pornography...

"Hob," he hisses, "I do not think I can..."

"Love," the human soothes, reaching out to grab the naga's neck and pull him up for a kiss. "You can. I know you can hold yourself still. The only way to restrain your smooth body any more than it already is would be to loop hooks into the flesh beneath your scales. And I refuse." Dream whimpers, eyes closed as he trembles. "Just think of the reward, darling. Imagine one of your cocks buried within me, the other gripped in my hands. Think of it."

Hob tries to let some of his own breathless excitement bleed through. Because after seven hundred years of meeting with this gorgeous, awe-inspiring, witty, fascinating creature - not to mention eight decades of being lovers - finally, finally he will have what he has wanted since year two hundred and one: Dream screaming his pleasure as he empties inside him. And Hob is goddamned excited.

Little did Hob know when he first desired this that he would get to have Dream come on him at the same time.

Dream, while equally enthusiastic, is terrified that he will hurt Hob. And he isn't wrong: the majority of his body is a long tube of extremely strong muscle that thrashes around when he is near and at his climax. Hob has watched as Dream has whipped his tail around fast enough to gouge cuts eight inches deep through dragon hide, so he doesn't begrudge Dream's hesitation.

If Hob were another naga their snake-bodies would be intertwined and therefore kept from wild movements by the other's strength. But he is not. So they have had to come up with other options.

Dream's body, both human and snake, is being held down by an elaborate series of straps and chains. On his snake end, which they have found runs a full forty-seven feet in length, are a dozen foot-wide leather collars that tighten around the body if pulled. Each are anchored via chains to iron rings buried deep into the stone of the cave floor. His human form lays on a mattress, but is also held down with a harness that loops around his shoulders and chest and has a very short chain to the floor. He cannot fully sit up, but he can stretch enough to touch Hob as he is riding Dream.

Hob is perched on his lover's pelvis, along the transition from skin to scales. Behind him, three belly scales back, far too low relative to the jut of what appear to be hips to be human anatomy, protrude two slick, gleaming cocks.

Their proportions are also too exaggerated to be human, with a more pointed head that transitions relatively smoothly into the shaft. The shaft is widest at just below its middle, making it shaped almost like a flower bud. At the base of each, right before they connect into a 'Y' shape, are a series of gentle ridges that make Hob groan just looking at them. No part is wider than Dream's hand, so there is no doubt that Hob's body can accommodate.

Hob slides backwards until the two cocks press up against his ass and nudge into his lower back.

While they have never done this specific sexual act before, Hob has sat between the two dicks and rutted back and forth until they both came. It absolutely drenches Hob in cum, both front and back, and Dream takes great pleasure in covering his lover as much as possible.

"You ready, love?" Hob asks as he reaches behind to grab one of the two pricks.

He beams down at Dream, maneuvering so that he sits in the space between the twitching, leaking members. He takes a moment to rock forward, his own cock sliding against Dream's, making them both groan. Then he rises up onto his knees and starts guiding one of Dream's impossible cocks into his body.

Dream stretches and gets one hand on Hob's thigh. "As much as I can be." His voice is steadier than it was before.

Oh fuck, it is better than Hob thought possible, that long gentle taper just gliding into him until it is stretching him open, stretching and oh oh oh!

"Yes! Hob!" Dream snaps his body up as much as he is able, chains clinking as he reaches their limits, popping his prick into Hob to the base.

Hob lets out this long, drawn out wanton noise, more than a moan, not quite a howl; he is so full he almost wants to cry with how good it is.

When he looks down, Dream's chest is heaving, shining with sweat, his mouth open and slack, his lids heavy over dark eyes. He looks like he wants to devour Hob and in that moment Hob probably would let him, if only it kept this glorious prick buried within him for a minute longer.

Hob runs his hands down the cock arcing up between his legs. It twitches into his touch and presses Hob's cock and bollocks against his belly and oh yeah, that's gonna be fantastic. He rolls his hips forward once, rutting himself into those ridges at the base of one of Dream's pricks and lifting him off the other.

Dream hisses, fingers gripping bruises into Hob's thigh, and his hips snap up to fully sheathe himself again inside Hob, making them both cry out.

Hob wants to tell his lover how good it is, but he can't figure out words, so he keeps stroking both his hands up and down the cock in front of him, rolling his hips and fucking himself in time with it, and Dream sobs through it all, but his body eventually picks up the rhythm.

Hob's cum gets smeared all over Dream's cock under his hands and it is only a few more thrusts before Dream peaks, a shriek of unintelligible sibilants, stripes of searing hot white covering Hob's shoulders and neck and the side of his face. At the same time the cock inside him pulses over and over and Hob can feel the spend leaking out of him and down his legs and across Dream's belly.

If Hob had his way this would last forever, but he can already tell he is close, Dream so fucking deep inside him it hits every pleasure spot Hob knew he had and then some. He can hear the heavy chains behind him rattle and groan as Dream's long body thrashes in its confines, attempting to twist and roll. It makes every third or fourth thrust become a wild buck that hits harder than the others and Hob's vision whites out for a moment each time.

The bucking gets more frequent as Dream reaches his own peak, and Hob has already been holding himself back, so once every thrust is one of those uninhibited snaps of Dream's body, he lets himself go. "Dream! I'm gonna oh yessss!"

When he collapses forward Dream's cocks are flexible enough to go with him, still everted and full, and isn't that just lovely. They will retract eventually, out of Hob and all the way back into Dream's body until they invert internally. Perhaps Dream will let Hob fuck into his inverted pricks for a second round.

But that will be later. For now Hob feels their breathing sync as he drifts into sleep.

[sunsetofdoom]

Thanks @blitzwhore for the tag!

Who wants to put the bird in a blender with me!? This is the same as my last WIP post, an AU loosely inspired by Next to Normal, that involves Stella having Stolas kidnapped and hospitalized between Full Moon and Apology Tour, using the memory loss effects of ECT treatment to force him to forget about divorcing her- and, incidentally, his romance with Blitz- entirely.

“I don’t-” Stolas cast about the small white room, even though moving his eyes too fast made him feel motion sick. “I don’t understand. What-” Via started to speak, but one of the doctors intercut her. “It’s because of your medication, Your Highness,” the calm, authoritative voice explained. “You have a chemical tolerance to some of the drugs we would normally use. The ECT cuts through the drug resistance; you’ll get back to normal much more quickly.” “What medication?” Via said. Oh, no. Humiliated, head splitting with pain, Stolas grabbed for the clipboard. If this could just be over, so he could be left alone. He settled the pen over the line for his signature, scribbled until it approximated the loops and curves of his own handwriting. Reflexively, he moved the pen to the next line, the date. He hesitated. The blue ink of the pen gave a watery scribble under his shaking hand. Stolas realized with muted embarrassment that he did not know what day it was. He had a general sense of his life, the movement of time, his daughter, his wife, his home; but outside these sterile walls, what season was it? What year? Taking pity on him, Octavia reached down and took the pen. She scribbled down numbers that Stolas didn’t manage to parse before she whipped the clipboard away and handed it to the doctors. “Thank you, Your Highness,” one of them said. “We’ll put you under sedation and resume treatment immediately.” “I- yes,” Stolas forced himself to respond, drifting through the conversation on reflexive politeness. “Thank you.” “Miss,” a nurse said, moving Octavia to the side. “These are the sedatives,” and handed his daughter a cup of water and a handful of pills. “Whenever he takes them, we can get the electrodes attached again.” Octavia made a soft noise of agreement, or possibly dread. “The-” Stolas’ head spun. “Via- what’s happened?” “Mum- mum said I shouldn’t tell you anything until after the treatment,” Via told him, her voice shaky, and she took hold of his hand. He clung to her, hands as tight together as they’d been when she was a baby gripping his thumb- but she dislodged his fingers, unfolding his hand to lay the blue pills on his palm. “But you- you had a breakdown. You weren’t yourself. It scared me, Dad.” “Oh,” Stolas said, swallowing hard on the bile that rose in his throat. “Oh, Via, sweetie, I’m so sorry-” “It’s okay,” she said, her face ashen, not looking at him. “It’s okay, now. Everything- everything’s gonna go back to normal. Everything is going to be okay.”

-

Listen. I know in the show they have to keep her sympathetic or The Horde will materialize and come after Octavia with torches and pitchforks, but real lover girls have room in their heart for a teenager with no social skills or emotional maturity making bad, unsympathetic decisions and having to reckon with their consequences.

Tagging @uhohgoose (I'm Lookin') and perhaps @stolitzsings? Oh and definitely @persephoneme!!

[slitherpunk]

now that i've amassed a following from making shitposts, i can start sharing my Opinions about Video Games! ..ah! where is everybody going with all these torches & pitchforks hehe and why did you all come to a halt when reaching me? ^_^;;

[dani-says-stuff]

The Art of Distraction

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❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- couldn't wait to bulk post, i'm actually pretty proud of this one

- i didn't end up using the exact line/prompt in the request because it didnt really fit, but it's similar enough for the point to get across

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Nate Hardy x fem!reader

Summary: Based on this request

i tried lol, i dont know if it's as spicy as you were hoping it to be, but i packed it with extra stuff just incase that part came out super cringy.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cringe, suggestive(?), mentions of a haunting that i completely made up for background, very very loosely based on the witch's forest video, inconsistent capitalization, my usual grammar warning... i dont think theres anything bad in here but to be honest i cant really remember

Dialogue Key: Probably dont even need this, but just for consistancy

Y/N

Nate

couldnt really find a great gif for this fic, but i think its funny so im dropping it here.

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It had been a few hours since you had returned home and you'd yet to stop shaking. You'd been on investigations with Nate and the boys in the past, but this one in particular threw you way more than you thought it would. 

For the entire car ride back home, the events wouldn't stop rapidly flicking through your mind. Nate's arm resting on the console and his hand softly placed on your thigh did little to ground you as it normally did. The thought of reaching down and intertwining your fingers as you'd done many times before didn't even come to mind, your hands too busy picking at your sleeves to do anything else. 

Dark midnight skies barely visible through clusters of twisted curling tree branches. 

Thick wooden trunks placed around you like a maze, they all looked the same no matter which direction you went. 

Dry dirt and bits of gravel kicking up in clouds behind you, scraping up the backs of your legs from the speed at which you were running. 

Branches strewn across the overgrown path splitting and cracking loudly beneath your feet. 

Your throat, raw from screaming out to the boys. 

Your heartbeat, deafening in your ears. 

Nate's one-sided conversation through the duration of the ride back barely made its way to your ears, it felt like you were underwater or your ears were stuffed with cotton.

The only thing you could hear clearly was the memory of your own panicked screams earlier that night. 

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It had started just as any other investigation had, and for the first time in a while, it wasn't happening in a building. 

The first half of the video held a strangely nostalgic vibe. In the days of a better quality Sam and Colby channel, where they were now able to book the big shot hauntings and go to different countries with loads of equipment, would sit a small video similar to those of their early days.

They were once again investigating an area that wasn't highly publicized, the only ones to know of it being the eager locals with decades of ghost stories to share. 

It was said that there was a witch who lived deep within the forest many centuries ago. She dwelled in a quaint cottage where she would practice her spells and hexes... or at least that's how the villagers of the time saw her.

It didn't matter that the woman was in the woods alone because her family had all perished from sickness.

It didn't matter that she was cooking up the same herbal home remedies as everyone else.

When the drought came and wiped out the village crops but the witch's garden in the woods flourished due to the untouched aquifer beneath her land, they were furious.

It was said that they marched upon her house late one night, torches and pitchforks held high, enraged at the witch in the woods. They yelled, taunting her to emerge so they could take her into the small town square. When she refused, they tossed their torches at the structure, laughter overpowering the screams of the woman inside as the house was engulfed in flame. 

It was thought to be an old wives tale, the witch deep in the woods brooding silently as she worked on enchantments was hardly anything new. It was simply a story passed down from parent to child in hopes of keeping the energetic children from venturing off too far on their own. 

But then they started finding things.

The ruins of a small house, a foundation of stone left behind in the middle of the forest.

Old, hand-made historic brick, placed in a careful circle like the makings of a well.

The bones found throughout the property, most likely scattered by animals and winds over time.

With the influx of people from the small town once again venturing into the forest, it was only natural that the witch would awaken. 

So, you all ventured into the woods with no more than a flashlight each, a spirit box, and a REM pod to see if you would be able to communicate with the spirit of the witch that haunted the woods.

When the sun set was when everything went wrong.

The REM pod began going off rapidly, pointing in every direction, no clear responses being drawn from the item. The spirit box chirped to life despite never being turned on, spouting one word.

Run. 

Branches cracked from close behind you, startling your group of four to do exactly that. 

You made it a few feet when you tripped over something cold and solid, just tall enough to catch the end of your shoe as you ran. Your flashlight tumbled from your hand, rolling across the ground to show two very terrifying things. 

One, the lack of the three boys running along behind you, meaning that you had managed to run off in a different direction than they had. You were now completely alone in the forest that was difficult to navigate in a group. 

Two, a short stone wall standing before you, encapsulating the leafy floor you were splayed across. You had managed to run straight into the remains of the cottage. 

If matters couldn't get any worse, the very thing commonly experienced by those who ventured to this area happened to you. It was said that if you ventured onto her land, the witch would drain the power of your devices and most often—the batteries of your flashlights.

Any sort of light brought near the ruins in the dead of night would be promptly snuffed out, assumingly because of the tragedy that occurred the last time beacons of light were brought to the location. 

Your flashlight began to flicker. 

Once.

Twice. 

And then the light was gone, submerging you completely in the stale darkness of night. 

Everything after that was a blur, all you could comprehend were the quick flashes terrorizing your mind. 

Dark midnight skies.

Clusters of twisted tree branches. 

A wooden maze of towering trees. 

Dry dirt and bits of gravel stinging your legs. 

Burning muscles. 

Overgrown paths.

Panicked screams of both you and Nate as you scrambled blindly through the wood. 

Your heartbeat pounding in your head.

Just as it felt like you were running aimlessly then, you felt as if you could make no progress now. 

No matter how far you ran—no matter how much time had passed—you stayed terrified. 

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Both bedside lamps were on as you burrowed yourself under countless layers of blankets and sheets, your body curled in a tight ball. After all, if your blankets are covering you, the monster under the bed doesn't know you are there.

All that peaked out from the fluffy mass on the bed were your eyes, gaze solely focused on the Disney movie you'd turned on moments before, proving to yourself that witches aren't really as scary as they appear.

Good always wins and bad things can't reach you. 

Nate entered the room about fifteen minutes into your movie, hair still damp from the shower and one of your favorite shirts of his draped over his shoulders. It was an old T-shirt from who knows how long ago, but it was soft from wear and one of the most comforting things in the world to have pressed against your skin when he pulled you into his chest at night. 

His eyebrows furrowed at your eyes, wide and alert, quickly darting to him when he entered the bedroom, "Babe?" he spoke softly, slowly approaching and kneeling down by the bedside, fishing for your hand beneath the blankets, "Are you ok?" 

His eyes were sincere and brimming with worry as he looked upon you, gaze scanning over what he could see of you, assessing any damage that may have occurred in the brief time he left you alone.

You nodded slowly, eyes abandoning the movie and choosing to find solace in him instead. 

Once deeming you in no worse condition than he left you in, his head moved finally noticing the laptop perched on the mattress and the movie that previously held your attention playing out on the screen. 

A teasing smirk graced his features, "Really?"

Heat rose to your cheeks and you somehow managed to descend deeper into your cocoon. Your words were muffled by the comforter blocking the lower half of your face, "I needed to get my mind off of it." Nate laughed quietly at your explanation making you double down out of embarrassment, "I needed something to distract me so I could sleep." 

"A Disney movie?" he spoke, equal parts teasing and condescending. 

"What?" you whined rolling your eyes at him, "It always worked when I was younger." 

He hummed, standing up and plucking the laptop from the bed, quickly shutting it off and placing it to the side despite your protests. 

"Well," Nate spoke, waggling his eyebrows at you a few times in order to get you to laugh, "now you don't need 'em."  

You raised a single eyebrow, scanning him skeptically, "Why's that?" 

"Because," he trailed off, leaning to press a loving kiss to your forehead, "I'm going to be the best damn distraction you've ever seen."

"Oh really?" 

He hummed again, pressing a kiss to your nose.

You tilted your head slightly to the side with wide puppy dog eyes staring up at him, not quite getting what he was implying, "And how exactly are you going to do that?" 

Nate pulled the covers down to your chin with a soft, lovesick smile, "Like this." he whispered, finally placing a kiss on your lips. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a warmth flooding your body unlike the one gained from the blankets. This was a warmth that came from the innermost parts of your soul, igniting each and every nerve, setting them on fire. 

He slowly peeled back the blankets to reveal your form, arms covered with goosebumps from the stark temperature difference flew up to wrap around his neck the second they were released, fingers sinking into his hair. His own arms swiftly moved around your waist, pulling your bodies even closer as he moved onto the bed hovering over you, never once daring to break the kiss. 

The only time his lips left yours where when they moved to trace your jawline and trail down your neck leaving you breathless. 

He moved across your skin, leaving a tapestry of red and purple in his wake, painting your skin the same colors as the fireworks dancing behind your eyelids. With your mind focused on him, there was no room to think of anything else, he moved in a way that you couldn't fathom wanting to think of anything else. 

His hands dipped lower and lower, teasing beneath the hemming of your sleepshirt and caressing your warm skin.

He leaned back, removing his lips from you after what felt like hours, pupils blown wide and a loving, lustful haze clouding over his eyes. 

The only reason he parted was to drag the shirt up off your body with his own quickly following suit to be thrown blindly into a corner, lips hungrily returning to your own the minute the barrier was gone. 

He held your attention fully until the sun breached the horizon line, chasing the moon and darkness of night away as it found its rightful place up in the sky. The night was over, any thoughts you had of terrible twisting branches and evil witches dissolved in the light of morning—at least the ones that hadn't been valiantly chased away by your very own knight in shining armor. 

You lay in bed beneath the single bedsheet, head resting against Nate's chest as he absentmidedly traced shapes across your back, humming a random melody as he did so. The warm light of day breaching through the cracks of the drawn curtains, bathing your tangled limbs in soft gold. 

He was right, you didn't need to distract yourself with the technicolor animations of your childhood. You didn't need to dull your senses with endless hours of princes and princesses saving the day anymore. 

Not when you had your very own fairytale sitting right in front of you, ready and waiting to do whatever it takes to give you your happy ending. 

With that thought and a sweet smile gracing your lips you closed your eyes, finally able to get some sleep. 

[cardierreh15]

When love finds a way

I do not give any permission to copy or repost my work!

Warnings 18+: Death , Blood .

Pairings: Henry Cavill (Drake/Dracula) x Misty/Mia (Black!plus size female)

Description: The past comes back to haunt Drake in the most strangest way.

Song(s): Time Of The Season by The Zombies

Word Count: 2.9K

One

Shadows casted and danced as one with the candlelight upon the walls. Sweet angelic laughter had filled the air as he nuzzled his pointy nose into her soft warm skin; pampering sweet kisses on her flesh.

A toothy grin had curled on his lips, with a glint of sparkle in his blood pigmented eyes. ‘I really must go now. I told you I’d stay for a glass of wine and one had turned into 4.’

‘Ah,’ He smacked at his teeth and leaned over to grab the neck of the wine bottle, ‘Just one more my love.’ Then he’d reached over and poured a few more ounces into her once again empty glass. ‘I’d wished you just move in with me already.’

The woman wanted to object, but instead she just laughed and looked over at him, ‘If I didn’t know better, Id be thinking you’re trying to get me drunk! And, if we moved in together, I don’t think I’d be able to keep my promise to myself.’

‘And what promise was that my love?’

‘To at least wait a month into our marriage before you put me to bed.’

‘Hmph. You do make it hard to wait.’

The couple chuckled before he looked up at her, ‘And Perhaps I am… or maybe I just enjoy your company that much.’ He placed the bottle back down on the glass table and sat back, ‘We are to spend the rest of eternity together after all.’ He smiled softly.

The woman scooped up her wine glass by the neck and look at the beautiful wedding ring that donned her hand. A hesitant smile curled on her lips before she took a sip of her wine once more.

Drake’s eyebrows pulled into one as he noticed her happy demeanor had faltered some. He sat up and scoot closer to her, ‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts my love?’ He took her hand carefully and placed a gentle kiss upon her diamond.

‘N-no. It’s just that … eternity is a long time. I want to experience life first before … immortality. I want to birth a son, or a daughter—‘

He sighed softly, closing his eyes before, ‘Mia—‘

‘Dracula…’ she said as she snapped her head towards him. ‘You are my husband… is it not your job to give me what my heart truly desires?’

‘Yes but—‘

‘But?’ Her sweet honey brown eyes stared into his.

He broke the eye contact before looking down at her mahogany hands. ‘What if—‘ he swallowed his spit and looked back up at her, ‘What if I can’t? What if all these years have finally caught up with me and I can’t provide you with what you want? What then, Mia?’

Mia placed her small warm palms on his cheeks and pulled him into a sweet kiss. She could taste small remnants of blood upon his lips but it didn’t bother her much. She’d gotten use to the taste in the past year and a half.

When she’d broken the kiss, she whispered against his lips, ‘I know we can. Plus, It is always fun… practicing.’ She giggled.

Drake chuckled as well, pressing his forehead against hers, ‘It is. Maybe we can start practicing tonight?’ He then rushed in another kiss, before pampering her face and neck with sweet pecks.

A tickled laugh bounced off the walls before they were smothered with his own mouth once again.

The two were barely out of their clothes when they heard someone call his name, “DRACULA! SURRENDER YOURSELF VILE CREATURE OF HELL!”

He looked over his shoulder as he hovered over his lover.

‘Who is that?!’ Mia said in worry.

Drake quickly and carefully pulled himself off of her and walked over to the window. Once he’d pulled the winter curtain to the side, there stood the whole nearby village with pitchforks and lit up torches in their hands.

‘Mia, stay here.’

‘What?! No, Drake— they’ll kill you!’

‘Mia!’ With his immortal speed, he grabbed her face, ‘Please… stay… here. They mustn’t know you’re here—‘

‘DRACULAAA! COME OUT, THE CHURCH ONLY WISHES TO SPEAK WITH YOU!’

‘Hide. Do not come out until I come to you myself do you understand?!’

Mia nodded quickly before she hurried off and searched for hiding places.

He walked towards the large door of his home, unlocked it and pulled it open. He was instantly greeted with the scent of burning oil. He could hear the racing of everyone’s heart. They feared him. All of them except the priest, who held that cursed book in his arm.

Shutting the door softly behind him, he then walked forward, ‘My I help you… priest?’

‘Hmm… indeed you can.’

Drake narrowed his eyes as he took in the individual. He donned dirty blonde hair, green eyes and had a lean, tall frame. He wore a black cloak with red trimmings around the wrists and around his neck he work a silver necklace with a large cross pendant.

‘I Am Priest Darius Obadiah. I preach at the local town’s church. And I specifically specialize in exorcisms and vampire hunting. Basically, I am a servant of God, here to rid the world of evil. Such as yourself. ‘

‘I do not know what you mean Priest. Perhaps you’ve stumbled across the wrong man.’

Priest Darius narrowed his eyes for a second and sighed before continuing, ‘I have received word on your whereabouts from the people of the church. These…’ the priest reached his arm out, gesturing towards the folk behind him, ‘People. But that isn’t the most interesting part…’

Drake’s brows pulled into one, his red eyes searching the crowd for anyone that he would have recognized. He paid no mind to the priest until he mentioned, ‘The townsfolk say you have a woman. I hear she’s the most beautiful thing this world has ever seen. Skin chocolatey and silky. Something you’d kill to dig your fangs into?’

His eyes darted back towards the priest and he clenched his jaw together, ‘I haven’t heard of such a woman… I am a mere farmer… I am alone.’

The Priest raised a brow before continuing, ‘I want to believe you son… but the darkness I feel exuding off of you is unmatched. Joseph, Phillip! Bring her to me please!’

Drake snapped his head over his shoulder as two large men carried her out by her arms. ‘DRAKE! Get off! Get off of me!’ And they tossed her to the ground before the priest.

‘MIA! DON’T YOU DARE HARM HER!’ His crimson eyes glowed brighter than the moon. His large fangs protruded from his gums.

‘Ah! There she is! Just as they have described to be too! And all we needed from you— was a little motivation.’ The Priest chuckled as he walked over to the young beautiful woman and grabbed her by her thick curls. ‘Up, up, up— there you go sweet heart.’

‘AUGH!’ Mia whimpered out.

‘Mia! I won’t let them hurt you my love!’

The priest gave some of the villagers a nod for them to start burning down his stock, and his home.

Drake was aware of what was occurring behind him but he kept his eyes fixated on the priest.

‘Look… I know you planned on living a quiet life. Settling down but you are an abomination. A demon sent from hell to plague this world your vileness. You have and only will put everyone you know in danger… so you can give yourself up now or I will simply break you.’

‘DRAKE! DON’T DO IT!’

Drake kept his eyes on the priest before he looked at his distressed wife. ‘Mia…’

The priest smacked his teeth, rolling his eyes, ‘Fine. Let’s see how you bend under pressure.’ And in record time, the priest pulled out a dagger and stabbed it through her back.

A gasp came from Mia’s lips as he snatched the blade right out of her.

‘MIAAAA!’ He rushed over to his dying lover, falling to his knees and pulled her up into his lap. ‘Mia! Baby, baby— it’s ok! It’s not that bad—It’s.‘ his breathing was shaky. He pulled her up so he could see the wound in her back and placed one hand there, and the other rested on her exit wound in her abdomen. ‘Come on baby! Stay with me!’

‘Such a shame… she was beautiful. What a waste.’ And the priest turned around and walked through the villagers.

‘Dr—… it’s-it’s okay.’ She muttered out, her eyes wet with her own tears. Mia placed her bloodied hands on his face, ‘it’s OK… let it… g-go.’

‘It’s OK baby. I’ve got you. Just… stay with me OK. Look at me!’

Mia gave him a pained smile as a thick tear fell down the side of her face. Her face finally relaxed. And her rhythmic heart had came to a stop.

‘No, no, no. Mia— Mia please! Stay with me please. MIA!’

He sobbed as he held her. A pain he’d never experienced before ripped through him and he just let out a painful wail. He pulled her up into his arms and just held her corpse close. Rocking as if he were putting a baby to sleep.

‘What about him, father?’ One of the villagers asked.

‘He is broken. Death is what he wants. His punishment for his presence shall to live without the one he loves for the rest of his days.’

‘And what if he comes for us?!’ Another villager asked in worry.

‘He will… and we shall be ready.’

In the back, his home was already engulfed in flames. His stock ran around rampant, burning and dying. But cared nothing about it. They’d taken away the one thing he loved in this world.

He sought revenge. And God and his disciples were to feel his everlasting wrath. For those who steered in his way— would meet their dreadful and untimely demise too.

***

Modern Day

The weather was treacherous today. It was almost enough to make Drake stay indoors. But he needed to finished his painting. He was almost done with it, so he bit the silver bullet and got himself together.

He wore a simple black slacks and a button down with a black wife beater beneath it. He then threw on a black blazer to complete the look. And on his way out the door, he grabbed his black umbrella and his sunglasses.

Drake inhaled deeply; taking in all of the scents around him. He could smell the moisture in the air. It was to rain soon, so he had to hurry back. The man was like a cat thrown in a tub! He hated getting wet against his will.

He then carefully pulled his AirPods out of his pocket and plugged them into his ears. Pulling out his iPod, he restarted his playlist and began on his journey.

Drake lived in the city. This way he never felt the need to invest in a car. As far as he knew, he wasn’t being hunted thus, so walking about was a bit more relieving. Plus, everything was nearby! Supermarket, Drugstore, Restaurants, Hospital (where he would stock up his special packets at). A perfect place go blend in.

‘Hi, Mister Drake!’ A little boy with bright ginger hair on a bike chirped out, stopping right in front of him.

He pressed his lips and stopped in his tracks, ‘Oliver, careful with that thing… you can hurt someone… or worse!’

‘What? This little ole thing? You are too big to be hurt by the likes of me.’ The young man said proudly.

‘That’s kind of you young man. Now if you’d excuse—‘

‘My mom keeps asking about you Mister Drake! When you gone call her?’

Drake raised a brow, his neck stiffening at the thought of his mother. She was a beautiful woman, pretty blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, coke bottle shape. But he would only use her for one thing if not, the other. So he looked behind him and ahead of him before leveling down to Oliver’s height.

‘Look,’ he pulled his shades down to the top of his nose, revealing his bright crimson eyes. ‘Tell your mother to stop sending her son to speak regarding her. It’s inappropriate and unladylike. And if she’d like, I’m available everyday around 7:30. K?’

The young man’s lips were parted open, stuck in a trance almost until he nodded.

‘Good lad,’ he pushed his shades back over his orbs and stood up straight, ‘Now, run along now. Behave now, young Oliver. I will be watching you!’

***

As soon as he walked into the safety of the arts and crafts store, he brought down his umbrella and pushed his shades back over his head. Then, he picked up a hand basket.

Blinking a few times he allowed his sensitive orbs to take absorb the artificial light. He then inhaled deeply, this way he was able to find out everything about every person in the establishment. Most of the pheromones were the same usual scents, and some were different but not special enough for him to be pulled in. All except one.

‘Hmmm.’ He hummed softly before his attention was grasp by one of the workers.

‘Mr. Drake! How’s it going?’

He snapped his head towards the older woman before giving her a gentle smile, ‘Mrs. King. Hi, how are you? How was your holiday?’

‘It was delightful! Kids had a blast up there in the snow! But I didn’t get to see you before I left. No lie, I was a bit concerned. Are you doing alright?’

November 29th was the day that Mia had passed. And every year since her death he would prepare a memorial in her honor. That was also the last day Mrs. King worked before her vacation.

He nodded, pressing his lips together, ‘Just— had business to take care of. I’m fine, truly.’

‘Well, you know I am a phone call away. Oh! We restocked in your favorite Oil & Acrylics yesterday! Gone head have a blast!’ She grinned happily.

‘Oh goodie! I best be on my way!’ He grinned as he began to make his way towards the back of the store where there were all kinds of varieties of canvases, paints, and brushes. This was his safe haven. His personal Heaven.

Suddenly, that unusual yet, familiar scent danced around his nose once again. But it was a delightful scent. It made love to his senses and made whatever soul he had left in him, feel right at home.

So he just followed it, gaining closer and closer to the smell. To his surprise was a curly haired, cinnamon skinned woman admiring a large squeeze bottle of paint. She was curvaceous, and small in height. She had the same silhouette as his long lost love.

Or perhaps he was seeing things.

Drake quietly walked over and just stood there eyeing the different kinds of paint. A smooth, seductive song began to play in his ears. Causing his eyes to close slightly as he savored the sound.

Until he found himself singing out softly.

‘What’s your name, whose your daddy—‘

‘Whose your daddy,’ the girl adlibed, ‘He rich? Is he rich like mee?’

Drake blinked once and looked over at the woman who was still studying the paint and now humming the rest of the song.

‘You like The Zombies?’ He said with a smirk, his eyebrow raised and curiosity.

‘Not really,’ she said before dropping the blue paint in her hand basket and looked up at him. Her hair bounced and moved effortlessly. So lively and full! ‘Just that song in particularly.’ She giggled.

When their eyes met, Drake felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. She had her same beautiful, charming smile. Those same honeycomb eyes, and those lips… those full lips he use to just indulge on for no particular reason at all. Just because that’s the closest he got to tasting her. Hell, even her heart beat sounded the same.

He was still as if he was caught in Medusa’s glare.

‘Uh..’

Drake blinked out of his own head, ‘I’m… sorry. You just reminded me of someone.’ He turned his gaze away and started packing the colors he needed.

The girl smiled softly, her small dimples deepening in her cheeks, ‘I hope they were good memories.’ She gave him a gentle giggle.

He bit into his bottom lip and pressed his lips together. He was afraid to say anything else.

‘I’m… Misty… by the way.’

Drake looked down at his basket before looking back over at her with a gentle smile, ‘Drake.’

‘Drake?’

‘Mmmm.’ He hummed in agreement.

‘Like the rapper?’

‘Who?’ He raised a brow before looking over at the gorgeous woman.

‘You know? “You use to call me on your cell phone— late night when you neeed myyy love.” You know that guy?’ She said elbowing him gently.

Drake stared at her, confusion written on his face.

‘Oh dear… that was a very popular song.’ Misty giggled as she picked up another color.

‘Not popular enough, I suppose.’

The girl laughed and shook her head, ‘I guess not. So why do they call you Drake?’

‘It’s short for something…’ he paused, feeling like he was opening way too many doors.

‘OK… what is it then?’

‘I’d rather not tell. I don’t like my name.’

‘Alright, well— it’s been a pleasure “Call me on my cellphone,” man.’ she began to back up and wave her dainty fingers towards him. ‘I must get going. See ya around.’

‘See ya.’ He murmured as she disappeared around the corner. If it were possible for a vampire to throw up, he probably would’ve done that already.

[the-most-humble-blog]

Your Son Deserves Better Than a Society That Hates Him

Real Women Are Tired of Watching Real Men Get Destroyed - Let That Sink In.

🐍Masculinity Is a Hydra.🐍

🐍 And We’re Just Getting Started.🐍

They thought they could silence us. Cancel us. Bury us in shame and hashtags.

What they forgot… is that masculinity isn’t a man. It’s a f*cking hydra.

You cut off one head? A hundred more reach out and grab you by your metaphorical Va-jay-jay. Welcome to the recoil.

This isn’t just about “opinion” anymore. It’s about survival. It’s about refusing to let the modern world neuter strength, castrate clarity, and paint the masculine as some ancient virus that needs deleting.

Newsflash: Masculinity built this place. And it’ll be masculinity—real masculinity—that saves it.

Every time they try to shut me up, more of you show up. Stronger. Sharper. Louder. And not just men. Here’s the kicker that rattles their soft-spoken, high-pitched war cries:

It’s women, too.

Concerned mothers. Fierce wives. Clear-eyed daughters. Sisters who've watched their brothers be mocked for being men. Women who DM me quietly, every damn day, saying:

“Please don’t name me. The ‘female-protecting feminists’ will destroy my life if they find out I agree with you.”

Ironic, right? Feminism used to be about choice. Now it’s about choosing the right script—or else.

They call what we speak “toxic.” But what’s truly toxic is grooming boys into something sexless, soft, and scared—then wondering why the world falls apart. What’s truly toxic is pushing girls to “become men” while scorning the very men they’re trying to imitate. What’s toxic… is this slow castration of logic, nature, and strength.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to fight the good fight before the torches and pitchforks—wielded by the haters of men, masculinity, and our stable ways of life—silence me, like they silence anything that goes against their gynocentric world order.

But here’s what I do know:

I’ve got enough personal DMs from the logical, the academic, the disrespected, and the plain ole fed-the-hell-up with slack-jawed ingrates who want to “bring down the patriarchy” or destroy “toxic masculinity”… to ensure another man picks up the baton. And finishes the damn race.

And here’s the part that’s really gonna tinkle your pea-knuckle:

Judging by the messages I get? It’s probably going to be a woman who picks it up and finishes my endeavor.

Yeah. Let that marinate, haters.

Believe it. Or don’t. I don’t care. Because the truth doesn’t beg.

Meanwhile, they’ll keep trying to turn your sons into infertile, lipstick-wearing props of a system that despises them. And your daughters? Broad-shouldered “men” who spit in the face of your family tree—deciding not to continue it, but instead slowly rot in a cold, childless, manless apartment after their cat has eaten all their giblets.

⚖️Free Speech Disclaimer:

Yes, this entire post is protected under the U.S. Constitution. If that makes you clutch your pearls, cry into your tofu, or file a report—good...It means we’re still free. Dumbasses.

Cause at this point, things have gotten so pro-delusion and hysterically-crazy in society that:

⚔️Even the women are now swinging swords to protect Masculine MEN.⚔️

**To my Sisters in Battle - Women who can only safely support from the darkness (Due to violent feminists):**

Thank you for your service. I See You.

You've Proven Your Existence.

🔥And I Will Remember Your Support.🔥

📢 Share this if your backbone still works. 🗯️ Drop a comment if you're tired of tiptoeing around fake fragility. 📩 DM me if you’re ready to build something indestructible. 🔁 Repost it before the cancel gods come knocking.

[conanssummerchild]

Season 3: Episode 1 "Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days"

previous // next

Lorelai's dream about Luke at the beginning of the episode caught me and my mum so off guard the first time we watched this episode, like I genuinely had to pause it and go back to see if I'd just somehow accidentally skipped ahead, we were both FLABBERGASTED.

Rory is so obviously talking about Jess when she describes how you know a guy is right for you that it's embarrasing. If he's so perfect, how about you give him a call? And dump your current boyfriend. If Jess had kissed Rory and then not reached out to her again all summer we all know Lorelai and the rest of Stars Hollow would be at his door with torches and pitchforks, but if Rory does it it's fine.

This whole episode Rory is so transparently into Jess and mad at him for having his tongue down another girl's throat even after she made a move, ran away and then totally ghosted him and stayed together with her bf. The ball was completely in her court.

Lorelai's constant casual spending is ridiculous, if they saved up all the money Lorelai spent on useless shit and everything they waste on takeout daily they would probably have been able to pay for Chilton themselves. Well maybe not that much, but they would have a lot of extra cash if Lorelai learned to save and cook.

While Emily and Richard were truly terrible in this episode when they recieved the news of Lorelai and Christopher breaking up and I do genuinely feel for Lorelai and how hard the situation must be, I hate the scene where she goes to Luke's and starts to vent without even asking. I don't think it's manipulative at all, it's clear that Lorelai is very genuinely upset, but I find it to be incredibly entitled. She and Luke are at odds because of something SHE did and he seems to need some space. It's like when they were arguing about the car crash and she said he had an obligation to her, he does not, Lorelai has a level of entitlement that is crazy. Luke is a much kinder man than me because I would've definitely told her to fuck off by now.

Maybe she would get "The whole package" as she put it if she wasn't so obnoxious and self-centred. Okay that was a little mean, I'll admit, but while I feel bad about the whole situation, it's incredibly hard for me to sympathyse with Lorelai when she just continuously seems to prove that she doesn't think about how her actions affect anyone else and only seems to feel bad when those things backfire and affect her. (Ex: Her yelling at Luke in "Teach Me Tonight", tells Rory it was nothing, only seems to be sorry when Luke isn't talking to her anymore). It just pisses me off so bad. It might be charming or funny when she was 16 but at the ripe age of 33? Not so cute and quirky.

Other thoughts:

This is aparently Conan Gray's least favourite Gilmore Girls episode.

Lorelai and Rory's constant "we are so not like other girls" comments make me gag. The other day I caved and watched the GG pilot though and it was so much worse.

Milo Ventimiglia looks like a great kisser to be honest.

Lorelai just shoves the glazed donut Luke gives her in her purse with a measly napkin covering a small part of it. It must get her whole purse sticky and get the donut dirty, ew.

[lucasxholt]

👻 Haunted

Luke had been relishing in his ability to cause chaos among the partygoers. Given how the last few months had panned out, between his recon mission, Gabriel being in the hospital, and the recent attacks, it left little time for fun. Poking fun and messing with each character on their quest kind of reminded him of his time as a malevolent spirit, without the violence, anger, and terror that he'd inflicted. He was half drunk on wine out of his teacup with a group of blind mice when he saw the flicker of a shadow at the corner of his eye. When he turned, momentarily distracted by one of the blind mice's harrowing tales, it vanished, before appearing across his field of vision from the opposite direction. Clearing his throat, he excused himself to go and do the same with his head, walking near some trees to get some air away from any witnesses. He was leaning against a tree, taking a few deep breaths when he heard Emily's voice to his right.

Looking up in surprise, he was nearly knocked to his feet at the sight of his late wife, smiling at him with those deep blue eyes he'd been dreaming of for centuries. "Hey there, farm boy," she mused as her voice sang like angels to Luke's ears. A sloppy, tipsy smile came to his features as he pulled her close not even questioning whatever magic was at play. She caressed his face tenderly, as he pressed his forehead to hers, wanting to savor as much of this moment as he could.

"Daddy!" The various voices of his children could be heard carried on the wind between the trees. He looked up with glee, wanting nothing more to hold his children once again. When his search came up empty around them, he turned back to Emily, his face distorting in horror as he backed away slowly.

Looking back at Emily, he saw burns completely covering her body as she reached a charred hand towards him. "Emily?!" he called out in a panic as she came closer, Luke backing away and tripping on the roots of a nearby tree. "You did this!" she shrieked in pain, peeling off her flayed flesh in ribbons and throwing it at his feet. Luke backed away on his forearms in fright. "No... No! I tried to save you! I-I..." he stammered, shaking his quickly sobering head. "Daddy?!" he could hear his four children, screaming his name in fear, begging and pleading for help. Luke shook his head, smashing his palms into his temples to shake himself or whatever curse was at play away. Suddenly several sets of large arms scooped him up and dragged him to his feet, pulling at him with torches and pitchforks. "Luke!" he could hear the screams of Gabe, Matthew, and several others that he cared for in the distance, just far enough away that Luke couldn't see them, but he knew they were in unimaginable agony. "Stop it! Let me go!" he shouted, fighting off the dozens of arms that held him back. He roared with anger as he continued to fight off those who held him down as he tried desperately to reach those he loved but it felt futile.

Suddenly he saw someone breaking through the crowd and coming towards him. He couldn't see his face through the parades of people screaming and trying to pull him apart until he came face to face with himself. It was Luke, human, bloody, and crazed. Turner the Terror. "you killed my family," he seethed, the blistering anger boiling off of his skin. He got right into Luke's face, his insidious eyes connecting with Luke's "And now you're going to pay." The man grabbed Luke's head and began squeezing, appearing to conjure his essence and pouring into Luke. Suddenly Luke was let go but all he could feel was fear, anger, and rage, filling every pore of his body. The hands that were squeezing his head, he now realized, were his own as he squirmed on the forest floor in shrieking agony. He managed just enough clarity to start running, the bloody, carnivorous mob led by his wife, children, and himself chasing after him, out for blood...

[adamwatchesmovies]

Little Monsters (1989)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

I can’t believe this is the third time I’ve seen Little Monsters. The first time was in 2012. I didn't like it but my review was too short so I re-watched it AGAIN in 2016. I didn’t like it then either. In fact, I gave it a 0 score. Is the third time the charm?

After moving to a new house and new school, Brian (Fred Savage) is miserable. His parents (Margaret Whitton and Daniel Stern) are always fighting, he’s getting blamed for every random thing that happens around the house and his brother Eric (Ben Savage) keeps bugging him about monsters living under his bed. Then, Brian discovers there IS a monster living under the bed. His name is Maurice (Howie Mandel) and he loves to pull pranks.

The worst part of this movie is Howie Mandel. His character is so annoying you’ll reach for your torch and pitchfork seconds after he appears. He’s always talking, always trying to make you laugh, always moving and gesticulating. I won’t blame the actor. I’ll blame director Richard Alan Greenberg, along with writers Terry Rossio and Ted Elliott. The mantra must’ve been “If someone isn’t talking, the audience won’t be laughing”. They couldn’t have been more wrong. This film only contains one funny joke and to give credit where credit is due, it’s from Mandel. Nonetheless, you can’t stand him. He’s playing this imitation Beetlejuice - one of many we saw starting in 1989. I’ve only ever seen two fast-talking outlandish supernatural sidekicks that worked - The Genie from Aladdin and the aforementioned ghost with the most. Everyone else you want to beat to a pulp with a shovel before burying them in the backyard.

With the main draw being as pleasant as a dental exam, Little Monsters was instantaneously doomed but the problems don't stop there. This film is so mean-spirited you’ll wind up cheering for the villains and hating the heroes. Case and point is an extended scene in which Brian and Maurice travel from one house to another, pulling pranks on children while they sleep. They paint the walls, put plastic wrap on toilets, peanut butter on phones, etc. That doesn’t sound so bad but they shave a cat off-screen and then take revenge upon Ronnie (Devin Ratray), a bully who tormented Brian and his brother earlier. They put cat food in his lunch and replace his apple juice with urine. I know kids pretend that any yellow liquid is piss all the time. The difference is that in this movie, we see Maurice gulp down all Ronnie's juice so he can turn around (away from the camera) pull out his blue monster dick and fill Ronnie’s bottle. the movie goes too far, particularly since we get to see Ronnie attempt to wash down the taste of the cat food with it the next day.

Speaking of Ronnie, I feel like doing a bit of nitpicking. I mean, why not? This movie is mean. It deserves a bit of its own medicine. Here’s how his introduction works. Brian and his little brother are on the bus. After an argument (related to the mysterious pranks around the house), Brian tosses Eric's lunch out the window. That's when Ronnie enters. The lunch hit him in the head. Ronnie threatens Eric, Brian defends his little brother and after a quick verbal back-and-forth, Ronnie is humiliated and gets off the bus. Wait. What happened? Was Ronnie part of the route? Like was he supposed to be picked up by the sassy bus driver? Or did she just let him hop on randomly? Either way, I guess he walked the rest of the way. Eventually, the character returns for the final act when he is recruited as one of Brian’s allies against Boy (Frank Whaley), the monster world’s evil ruler. I know what the movie is trying to do. The idea is that Brian and his bully are setting aside their differences for the greater good. Maybe they’ll even become friends. Inside the movie though, this alliance means nothing. Ronnie doesn’t know Brian was responsible for the cat food and piss in his lunch. He's not "forgiving" anything.

I've become more invested than I should in a movie that doesn’t deserve to be remembered. Little Monsters is mean, gross and ugly. The monsters are unappealing and not even in a “they’re monsters, they should be kind of scary” kind of way. One look and you'll “No thanks”. In fact, you can skip the look. Just say “No thanks” to Little Monsters. (February 10, 2023)

[writingbylee]

Run Home, Lion Cub

Rating: Mature

CW/TW: violence, language, guns, Tymon Lannister (cause that man needs his own warning)

lots of love and hugs to @queenopresskenobi for letting me be a part of this world and write for her amazing characters!! if you want to read more from this Western AU, definitely check out her My Dear Elayna series!!

divider by @samspenandsword

“Howdy.” Lyanna said as she pulled the door open, a smile creeping across her face.

Her black bandana had been pulled under her chin, but her hat blocked her eyes. Tymon Lannister sputtered as he went backwards down the front steps and back with the men he brought with him.

“You’re not…” Lyanna heard someone in the crowd say and she snorted.

“How embarrassing this must be for you, lion cub, to fail so spectacularly.” Lyanna tilted her head up ever so slightly so they could all see the glint in her eyes as she rested a hand on one of her revolvers and started casually tapping her fingers against it.

“We have no quarrel with you, Stark.” Tymon called and Lyanna let out a low chuckle at that. Her off hand was slung on the front of her belt, and she kept her good hand hovering over the revolver.

“You sure about that, lion cub?” She watched as Tymon bristled at being called a cub. “Last I recall, you shot one of my men. Not to mention…” Lyanna trailed off as she looked at the crowd behind Tymon with their torches and pitchforks.

“Where is Elayna, Stark?” Tymon spat it out in the air, as if Lyanna’s last name was an insult.

“Oh, the woman who left your slimy ass at the altar?” Lyanna’s voice was full of mockery. “She’s right where she belongs. Out of your reach. So I suggest you take these men and get off this goddamn property.” Lyanna kept politely smiling, as if this was a conversation she had everyday. Her off hand didn’t move from the front of her belt, but she twitched the fingers of her good hand over her revolver. Some of the men in the crowd took a step back at the motion. Lyanna’s smile curled away from politeness and bent towards cruel.

“You’ll regret this, Stark.” Tymon called and Lyanna laughed.

“Oh I surely doubt that, lion cub.” Lyanna said. After a tense moment of silence, she used her off hand and drew her revolver. Before any of Tymon’s men could react, Lyanna had already fired, shooting Tymon in the shin. He cried out in pain as his leg crumpled beneath him, and one of his men grabbed under his arm to keep him standing. “Now get!” Lyanna raised her voice, gun still pointed at Tymon. “Before I decide to start aiming higher.” Tymon grumbled and motioned for his men to get back on their horses. “Seban!” Lyanna called out, and a man with a dark beard stopped moving and barely turned to face her. “I have a letter for you. From your sister.” Lyanna tossed the letter out into the still night and Seban walked the few steps to pick it up from the ground.

“Thank you.” Seban said it so quietly that Lyanna almost missed it. She gave him a nod and then turned her attention back to the rest of the men.

“Run home, lion cub!” Lyanna called out in Tymon’s direction. “Do me a favor, spit on Tywin’s grave when you get there?” Lyanna smiled again at Tymon’s tense posture on his horse as he whipped his head around to glare at her.

“Lyanna.” She heard Will whisper from the window behind her. “That was uncalled for.” She shrugged and kept her gaze forward.

“Eh. Worth it.”

divider by @samspenandsword

Follow @princess-lyanna-stark for more about Lyanna Stark!!

[grapecaseschoices]

Hey!! So...aah, author of Neon//Byte here. I'm coming here because back when I was posting you were like, the nicest person ever about my WIP and I always remembered you. I feel like I wanna explain some things I guess??? Sorry if this is super weird I just saw your post recently about N//B.

So basically...I got run off Tumblr pretty hard last year. Like almost literal pitchforks and torches LOL. I was super new back on the internet after a long stint of not even having a Facebook (big social anxiety issues). So when I used AI art to generate pics of my characters I didn't realise that AI was considered super shitty. I'd already posted all my character intros when I started getting floods of anonymous messages that were just reallyyyyyy fucking mean. And I guess I have thin skin from not being used to social media so it got to me bad.

I didn't know what to do because I'd already made the posts and people had reblogged so I just kinda dipped in a panic. I was ALWAYS planning on saving money up to find an artist to draw the characters but after that I couldn't even look at my WIP for months tbh. I'd pretty much given up on it.

But now...idk it's still really stuck in my head and it's something I wanna do so bad! I've had some new ideas over the months so it's not exactly the same but yeah...it's coming back??? Slowly because I don't wanna throw myself back into it and get overwhelmed but ohmygod you were always so nice and supportive and it's not an exaggeration to say your post last week made me feel like I could maybe do this again.

So yeah!! Thank you...SO MUCH. And I'll be making a Tumblr again in the next couple weeks hopefully so eeee, things are happening again<3

i thought eating breakfast would make me know what to say but i am still just !!!!!!!!!! about this four hours after first seeing this.

i had heard about what happened and i kind of also figured too. i am sorry people did that to you. some people just love being angry. i get the A.I. situation is complicated but not everyone understands [heck, I'VE been on the internet for a minute and I still don't fully know how to feel about it in certain respects]. but i am so glad it didn't permanently crush your spirit/didn't do lasting damage [i'm assuming! and not at all judging if it did. because internet bullying is no joke. it takes such another level of viciousness. and social anxiety is a difficult rock to push uphill.]

selfishly, i'm really fucking excited that it's coming back. but as a fellow creator of ocs, i know the feeling of losing something you were so passionate about/not being able to see it through STINKS so i am glad the vibes and inspiration have returned!!!

but please do not push yourself. as much as i loved seeing your thoughts behind the process, i'd be fine if you decided to just drop the end result and be like 'peace bitches' or whatever is most comfortable for you!

and thank you for reaching out because this really and truly brightened my morning. i cant stop smiling when i think of this message!

[ezribex]

FFXIV Write Day 13

“Be sure to check the cellars and the floorboards for hidden caches,” my mother reminded me as Baasan and I shouldered our packs and hefted our weapons. 

“Yes mother, I understand.” Baasan and I had been raiding abandoned farmsteads for weeks now, starting with the home we’d left when the Sin Eaters struck. It was strange, to go back to the place I’d lived my entire life, familiar and dangerous at the same time. I had mainly been afraid of running into my father, who had been bitten while covering our family’s escape. Would I recognize him, transformed? It ended up not being something I needed to worry about. As I learned eventually, Sin Eaters are very mobile. Plus, we were always careful, waiting for the Sin Eaters to decamp in order to feed before heading in. 

My mother had slipped so easily into my father’s leadership position among the remaining villagers that I felt a little slighted. Wasn’t I supposed to be the man of the household now? At sixteen, I was almost a man grown, I should be able to provide for my family. I discussed this with the other youth in our sorry band of young children and elderly people, and together, Baasan and I convinced my mother to let us loot abandoned houses for food. 

The stretch of Kholusia through which we marched was desolate, with most people having left their homes and villages to seek safety in Eulmore. My mother said that this was a trap and that Eulmore didn’t care for its people and that she would rather die than live in the Gatetown. Ok, fine, I guess. We were headed for the Crystarium, then, and what a long road it would be. 

Baasan and I set out from the well-hidden encampment, packs empty to accommodate whatever we found. I carried a pitchfork retrieved from a barn and Baasan carried his father’s old hunting bow. He practiced with it at camp and was becoming a better shot, though we hadn’t needed to shoot any Sin Eaters. At least, not yet. 

The eternal daylight beat down upon us as we walked along an overgrown path with tall grass closing in. “Hey Mads,” Baasan said casually, from his usual place behind me. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel kind of bad, raiding people’s houses like this? Like, what’s the difference between looting and banditry, morally?” 

I shook my head. “You’re too soft, Baasan. These people abandoned their homes for Eulmore’s Final Pleasures. They don’t need any of their old stuff, but we do. We’ve got women, children, and old people to feed. We’ve gotta step up and be men.” 

Baasan didn’t reply so we continued our walk in silence. When we finally came to our destination, the buildings looked to all be burned down. Only a few walls and chimneys were still standing. There were no Sin Eaters in sight. We quietly got to work, searching for hidden cellars, as my mother had told us. 

Stepping through the charred debris was hazardous, and therefore slow-going. We both knew that an infected scrape could be deadly as our group was running low on medicinal herbs. I was about to give up when Baasan shouted, “Hey Mads, over here!” 

I walked over to the building he’d been investigating as fast as I could, and sure enough, he’d found a trap door leading to a cellar. The door itself was metal. We lit a torch and descended. My stomach growled, hoping to see jars and jars of preserved food. Maybe even some medicine. Something valuable had to be stored in a cellar with a metal door and stone steps. 

To my disappointment, it seemed to just hold shelves of books and a desk with some quills and parchments. “Wow,” breathed Baasan, who was carrying the torch. He shined it around the room, which, while small, seemed pretty cozy. 

“I wonder if the person who used this kept any snacks hidden in their library,” I said, opening the desk drawers. No snacks, only writing implements. In the top drawer, something shiny caught my eye. Jewelry? Not useful immediately but maybe we could trade it if we ran into a caravan. I reached out to grab the pendant, and it immediately felt warm in my hand. A blue crystal affixed to a chain, presumably to be worn around the neck. Would you like to protect your family? A voice sounded in my head. I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t my own voice. 

“What have you got there, Mads?” Baasan asked. 

“Some jewelry, I think,” I answered, slipping the chain over my head and letting the crystal rest upon my chest. It was pleasantly warm. “Maybe we can sell it if we run into anyone on the road.”

“Good idea. Hey, can you hold the torch for a few? I want to check and see if any of these books will be useful, or if this person kept any maps of the area.” I nodded and took the torch, watching Baasan carefully look through the assorted books and papers. I would like nothing more than to protect those I travel with, I thought, to myself or–to no one in particular. I wasn’t expecting a response, but I got one. 

Good.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Far away from home, to say the least. A room and a meal is required, will gladly pay for each, so long as I am not attacked suddenly in the night. Long story about my unusual companion, didn't steal her though. Thanks to destiny, there have been times we are inseparable, whether I want it or not."

Eskel's deep, calm voice returned with a trace of a knowing smirk aimed at the cursed Sorceress, before his viper eyes returned to the old woman and her establishment within again. A handful of others inside... unlikely to be trouble, but on Darkwater Island he wouldn't be taking any chances. He would assume they were cultists ready to spring a trap on him, and prepare accordingly for the worst. Especially under the circumstances that had brought them all the way out here to begin with. There was always a catch when it came to something welcome, in his experience, destiny enjoying its little jokes at their expense. He could sense their quickened heartbeats inside the inn... looked like simple folk, not dressed in robes, but for all he knew the Leviathan could take control of them from afar. He had seen stranger things in his time. When the old woman acquiesced, he inclined his head to her gratefully, before glancing over to the barn near the inn, to Sabrina, and back to the owner of the establishment, settling a hand on the donkey's back, absently stroking along the fur gently.

"Your generosity is appreciated, Lady. I'll see to putting my donkey in the barn. Be inside shortly."

The Witcher turned on that note, striding away from the door, patting Sabrina on the rear encouragingly to start moving, and they headed around out of view from the old woman and out to the back yard containing the barn and stables. He kept his senses alert all the while, and could see some of the occupants of the village watching him from the windows. Fortunately the mist encompassing the island helped provide them some cover from prying eyes. He doubted word of their slaughter of numerous cultists had reached this remote location, barring the Leviathan of course, but they were strangers all the same, bound to draw suspicion regardless of what they did. Story of his life, that. At the very least they weren't yet lighting the torches and readying their pitchforks... he would take that much as a good sign. Together they drew close to the barn, stepping inside out of the rain at last. Once he was certain they were alone, out of earshot and view of the inn and village occupants, he turned to Sabrina and began to speak to her cursed form. Keeping his tone low, just as a precaution.

"Don't suppose we can sneak you in through the window. Wouldn't fit, nor on the room's bed. Plenty of hay in this barn though, warm and out of the rain. Water and oats, if they taste good to you now. Or we can try removing that curse... unless we need the Necronomicon for that. Need to find Scorpion as well, at some point. Probably closer to the lighthouse by now, where we left him."

@fallesto

The door creaked open, revealing an old woman, her eyes widening at the sight of the Witcher and the red donkey, especially with the rain and mud. She was dressed in a simple dress with an apron, her gray hair plastered to her head with the rain. She looked between the two of them, her eyes filled with curiosity and fear. “What do you want?” She spoke in a trembling voice, but it was clear she had seen worse. The Witcher stepped forwards, speaking calmly, trying to put her at ease, his deep tone carrying a hint of friendliness despite the circumstances.

The old woman eyed them both suspiciously, her hand on the door, ready to slam it shut at any sign of aggression. The village was quiet, the only sound the rain beating against the cobblestone streets and the occasional distant howl of the wind. She studied Eskel, his armor and swords, the donkey that was somehow... off, and her eyes narrowed. "You're not from around here, are ya?" She asked, her voice crackling like dry leaves underfoot. As she was tempted, very tempted to slam the door on them, and leave them out there, they had enough issues as it was, no one ought to be out in a storm like that.

The old woman's gaze shifted to the donkey, her curiosity piqued. "Your... companion? What happened to her?" It looked worn out. “Did you steal it?” She was not going to let a thief inside here, as she stepped back and looked down, but at the same time, coin was coin here, and trade was awfully slow, as she would think. The old woman's eyes searched theirs, then she nodded slowly. "Alright." She said, stepping aside to let them in. "You can have a room for the night.” As she opened the door for him. “Take that, to the back, there is a hutt there, it will do.” As she would let him sleep inside, a fire, some rest, but for her, no chance, that was not happening, it would be outside for her.