#anyway uhhh how the actual FUCK do i tag this.

[saints-helen]

And he loved him in every way that a person Can be loved,

And he loved him in every way that a thing Can be loved,

And he loved him in every way that love itself can exist, and that was swad's problem.

He loved him too much.

He loved him as you would love a pagoda a temple a god, he loved him as you would love a fountain or a mountain or a cod, he loves him in the way you love tea and coffee and mud.

He loved him the way you love a partner a friend a lover, a sister or a neighbour or maybe something other, he loved him the way you love a mother a father, a son, and brother.

He loved him the way you love a lake and the sky, the view and the sunset, he loved him the way you love love and affection, and the stars and the onset of the numbers you choose to calculate, a birthday, a night with no stars and and a morning with no sun.

He loved him the way you loved a bed, after working, and the way you loved working after bed.

And he loved him the way you love sleep, obsession, and he loved him the way hunger loves the mortal and the fighter loves defeat.

And he loves him in the way you love hatred, and sound, and the way a hawk can love a rabbit its eating; gratefulness. Joy. Warmth.

And he loved him the falcon in the sky and he loved him the bird in its nest, and he loved him the cannibal a body and the body an archeologist;

"You knew that i was here. You know what i used to Be."

And he loved him the way the air loves your lungs and the way your lungs love the air, and the way your eyes loved the light and a child loves the fair.

And he loved him like a book and a story, and a pet, and a gaze upon something faulty;

A mechanic;

"You need me, you need this, let me make you Whole Again."

And he loved him as the hammer loves its maker and the way the maker loves his tool, and he loves him like the tiger loves its cub and its cub loves the fool, and how the fool loved the circus and the circus loved him too.

And he loved swan the way the prince does and the way a king does and the queen, and the evil sorceress and he loved him the way the spell loves the cursed; the molds of their body, the way the tower loved the beautiful princess in her folly a Bargain for defeat: kill the dragon, and you can have Me.

And he loved him the way a rainbow loved to be formed and he loved him like clouds love the sea, drifting on by again and again and again and he loved him like movement loved the air.

And the way dance loved music and music loved composers, and the love between possession possessor and object, and the love between siblings and prey and lovers, and he loved him in loving and hating and murder, and he loved him in killing and eating and further, and a burner burning eating away at a heart that's set aflame and the way the apple Loved him, and the way he loves it too.

Swad loved swan in the way you love a being. And swad loved swan in the way you love a thing. And swad loved swan in the way you eat your dinner. And swad loved swan in the way you love fleeing.

And he loved him like a feather loves to fall, and he loved him like muscle loved to tear, and he loved him like bone loved to break; in such an uncaring, effortless, ease of way.

And he loved him with effort, the way you run. And he loved him in trying, and clawing, and a growl. And he loved him when bleeding, when either of their clothes stained red, and he loved him like a feral dog loves to bark. And he loved him like a kind heart loved so loved to be, and he loved him like skin loved the earth, the worm, the flesh; with a need to tear and Mend and make so Perfect. And he loved him like the selfish loved the selfless and the way selfishness loved the self, and in swan's panicked eyes flickering back and forth drifting he saw his Whole Self. And he loved that too.

And he loved him like swan's scars loved his body. And he loved him like swan's weapons loved to Dig. And he loved him like swan's legs loved to kick. And he loved him like swan's ribs loved to Break.

And he loved him.

Oh he loved him so.

Oh how he loved him So.

And swan had always been the very thing he loved the most, and the apples loved him, too, they loved swan so very much, and they didn't only love swad, they loved swan because he loved him, they loved swan because all swad had ever wanted to do was make him His.

His brother.

His bones.

His wings.

His.

Only his.

And no one else's.

And no one could ever love swan as swad loved him.

Because strings aren't meant to be tangled, and yet they so very Love to.

And rock isn't meant to be broken, melted, and yet it oh so very Loved to.

And animals don't want to be hunted, eaten, and yet oh their bodies so very Wanted to.

Swan just didn't know it yet, that he was a bird for a bird of prey.

And swad, his hunger, loved him so very much.

And swad then loved him in the way you loved wanting, and so then he loved him in the way you loved having, and so then he loved him in the way you loved leaving, and so and So then he loved him, in the way you loved Needing.

And birds are never good with being hungry, no animal is, no object is, no thing is, no person.

No.

No.

They never did well with being hungry, no matter how hunger so very loved the stomach.

And all love is powerful and all love is wanting and all love is melting and all love is good, and all love is consumption and tangling up and up and up until you can no longer tell where love begins and where love ends and where they all stuck together diverge.

All of its different colours blended all together until they all loved the very same ugly beautiful brown of drying blood on a body that swad loved so so very much and it made him Wanting.

Mouth watering heart hammering and More.

And his eyes, dilating, slitting, changing ever so slightly as the breath left his brother his lover his weapon his Friend his beautiful beautiful moon in the sky, eyes growing duller and duller and he loved him the way a leg loved kicking in desperation and claws kept clawing vainly trying to catch some flesh underneath and the panicked, shallow, Wheezing rise and fall of his chest like a chirrup under talon made him endeared and adored and filled with so much Love, and he loved him the way teeth love biting and he loved him the way blood loved veins and he loved him the way it moved and moved and Begged to get out.

And he loved him the way adrenaline loved the hunt, and he loved him the way a system loved to give up, and he loved him like the earth loved the rot and he loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him loved him.

And Oh how he Loved him So Very much.

[koterkot]

i'm probably a system but i have a job so idrc about that rn

[keywhole]

hello madcom fanbase. im a 1/4th into the game no one give me spoilers bc im already unwell about these creatures

[dreamsy990]

i drew silly gijinkas of my dogs

the dogs in question

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

im so exhausted but i have things to doo

[waywardsalt]

fuck it, unedited snippet from an early early post-ph scene i decided to write one night

[paperbackfable]

read this comic now it's so serious and sad. it's like. a tragedy

op were you high when you made this LOL/pos

Best comic I've read in a while ngl

1/14 where it's going -> page 2

[mayjeffneverstopyou]

.

[vanillarosekiss]

♡ p!link ♡

i'm slowly making my way through each link on the list! sorry this is quite shit though. maybe i'll rewrite it, maybe i won't.

warnings: taboo, stepdad!Price x reader, subtle breeding kink, use of daddy ONCE i just had to sorry not sorry, uhhh that's about it (it most probably is not)

Pretty little girl. That's what John thought of you. Was it weird that he was your stepdad? Maybe. Not to him, though. It wasn't like you were related at all, just unfortunate circumstances. Anyway, that wouldn't have stopped him from dreaming about fucking you senseless in your bedroom. And God, did he dream about that almost every night. So imagine his surprise when you decided to prance around the house one evening in the skimpiest little thing he'd ever seen you in; pink lace and silk painting your little figure in a heavenly glow.

He thought you were teasing him at this point, mocking his inability to obtain what he wanted from you.

You were, but you wanted to see how far he'd actually go. So obviously, you went and cleaned the entire house, making sure to spend most of the time on your hands and knees, back facing him so he could get a nice view. Questionable poses for what chores you were doing, unnecessary really, is what he thought. But then again, he wasn't complaining at all.

After a half hour of your teasing, you were flat on your stomach on your bed, lacy babydoll discarded and tiny pink panties pulled to the side as he pounded you mercilessly. Of course, John being considerate of the fact you had neighbours and how controversial it may be for them to find out he was fucking his baby girl (even worse that she was enjoying it) decided to muffle your moans with his large hand. With each thrust you were jolted forward, his cock stretching you out to the point of no return. You'd never felt this full before.

He could tell you were getting restless at once point, when you wouldn't stop squirming against his grip. To this, he just fucked you harder than he already was, grunting from the sheer force his cock was assaulting your hole with.

"Taking me s'well angel." he praised you, trying to calm your convoultions.

You whined into his hand, begging for a release that felt like it would never come.

"S'alright pretty, you can take it. Know you can. Wanted to tease daddy all day, yeah? You wanted this. Fuck, I mean you were practically askin' for it sweeth'art." he let out a short laugh before fastening his pace and eventually letting you cum, feeling your walls tighten around him.

He didn't stop there, though. He slowed down but kept thrusting for a few minutes, before lifting you like you weighed nothing, and laying on his back so that you were riding him.

His hands grabbed onto the fat of your hips, forcing you to grind down onto him, your back arching as you moaned softly.

"C'mon baby, gonna ride me like a good little girl, yeah?"

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @lovidovii @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling @siphon07 @figthoughts

[purpdrawsthings]

Ok what in the actual hell, did I just finish an animation in one fucking day

Hello hello as you know I make animations

And ungodly amount of fan art that I for some reason have no explanation for

So I decided to make this whole as gift in one day and I managed to finish it... At 11:20 at midnight 💀

Idk how I managed to do this but uh yeah

Got a lil lazy on the last part because GOD MY HANDS ARE SHIVERING ME TIMBERS RN

Uhhhh yeah enjoy.

And that statement up there ladies and gentlemen was me yesterday.

Ngl, I felt so burnt out and so sleepy that I couldn't for in what I wanted to say and wished I could've added this in 😭😭😭

I did this whole thing from I think 3 o'clock in the evening after I came back from school and had the crazy ass idea of doing this.

All the way from 3 to 11, I worked on this thang

So I've been working on this for approximately 8 hours max 💀💀💀

No breaks [ except for some breaks ] and absolutely almost speed running through the whole ass thing

Got way too lazy on the last part since it was literally 10 o'clock and I had to help my sister help a portion of the dishes because she just came back from a moon cake festival and didn't even shower yet like wth 💀💀💀

I absolutely wished I could've added more talented, amazing SMG4 artists in here because there's such a wide variety of them that it actually makes me go coo-coo crazy

Honourable mentions I would've added were prob Trap Sanchez, Opposol, Elis CZ and a couple of other [ which I will not tag since I felt that was way too much tbh ]

Those 3 artists were the ones who actually got me in the damn SMG4 community

And ngl, this fandom is great and is filled to the brim of artists whom I really adore.

It felt quite the missed opportunity for me to not feature them =[

But maybe I will do another huge ass gift, in the future because I have 3 animations to work on I won't be adding another one to my goddamn list like wth 💀💀💀💀

Anyways uhhh yeah! That's about the stuff I didn't get to feature before I posted this whole thing and maybe regretted it a little.

Uhhhhh yeetus =3

All people mentioned in order :

@tiredsmashbros @strange0-0storm @its-a-me-mango @libbytwq @theartistisme43 @cookiepopcat @vrynnvryxivia @lemonjuicesblog @supern0vashii @goofy-mcgee69420 @rr3d2y @meg-girumi

[x-birdsong-x]

GODDD OKAY OKAY okay it's not in her playlist anymore just because I heard Florida through a wc playlist and GOD that is her song but if Miss Americana's bridge fit better i'd have kept it - but gooddddddd okay like. obviously platonically for the second verse it fits so well with 8x01 and the first verse is SO 16!adams coded and it drives me insane i'm sliding down the wall and punching the air projecting like she's a little whiteboard thinking about adams when she ran away (and when you got along with your pets better than your family what can you do but snap when you get home and find out you weren't there when your oldest dog died)

FIRST tho I just need to yell about the repeating "You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes" fitting Adams so perfectly. It's how she thinks of herself; it's how she's been taught to think of herself. What happened when she was a kid was her fault, the one time she reads House correctly is you took the first deal they offered you because you wanted to punish yourself, she gets herself fired doing House's test that for a second they both think was a mistake, as far as her opinion goes the accident in Nobody's Fault was her fault. Typical of me to put us all to shame something something

Second I can just link this post for a better explanation but watching Runaways and overanalyzing every little bit about her there is not a chance in the deepest parts of hell that Adams had good parents. They did SOMETHING to make her snap before she left. The way she responds to Callie is you could at least let her in the room and your mom knows she messed up, she's determined not to do it again and she's your mom, and for the first time she's acting like it and beyond everything else Callie is upset that her parent is not listening to her. Something something nothing scares me more than the stranger at my door who I fail to give shelter time and worth they are THE firewatcher's daughter patient/protag matchup

okay god where was i going. these are actually from last year so there's absolutely ways i'd change it now given i've dug into runaways' lines even deeper now and also my unholy amount of brain-animatics are rooted in warriors fandom song-matching so,,,, but here have the first verse(?) of my original freak-out about this . leaving out the second verse with ep 1 because there's too much i can't decide my opinion on looking at it now lol . never did anything past those verses because it just doesn't fit as well

also sorry i can't do anything about the quality firealpaca and tumblr do not get along

GOD there's SO many ways i'd change that now if i had time i'd redo it right now but they're all in pngs and idk where the actual files went

im so sorry i could go nearly line for line for everything before the bridge which is where it becomes more of a stretch but the first half of miss americana and the heartbreak prince works with adams and i can not be obnoxious enough about this she is a fidget toy to me

wait i love this. please tell me more I love hearing your Fidget Toy Adams thoughts

[toffee-and-tandoori]

hannah, the tags at the very bottom😭😭

omg lee i saw your ask while i was in bed and i've been thinking about it all morning so this is gonna be LONG (and i will absolutely be taking creative liberties as i see fit because this is MY WORLD)

first of all as i reflect i'm realizing that pierre and valentino have quite a few similarities - love to indulge in conspiracy theories of their own creation, VERY candid about their sex lives while simultaneously being catholic af, february aquariuses, obsessed with a multilingual brown-eyed freak (affectionate) who pulls off CRAZY moves on the track and is hated by entire countries because of it...that's kinda wild! (also, besides the sex life candor/lovin' jesus combo all of these things describe ME???...and i was actually raised catholic too lmao)

anyway despite all of these similarities i feel like what really draws pierre to valentino is how open valentino is about his obsession (because even nico rosberg was never doing all of that...close but not quite). and pierre's like "wow he's just like me!" without realizing that is NOT a good thing pierre. and they're bonding over the psychological mind games that were inflicted upon them. pierre's like "finally someone who understands me".

cut to pierre attending a motogp race and meeting marc for the first time and being like WOW everything about marc is incredible and now i'm really confused. and he's venting to fabio about it like "wow marc's big brown eyes...and his laugh...and the way he speaks spanish AND italian...and the way he moves on track...wish he was taller though" and fabio's like "GIRL first of all i am well aware of how amazing marc is...i have eyes. also pierre...literally everything you just pointed out in marc also perfectly describes esteban."

and pierre's initially reluctant because duh of course he is. and he's like "fabio what are you talking about. first charles and now YOU?". and fabio and tom maubant are both just looking at pierre like GIRL (in french ofc). and after some back and forth staring pierre's like...ah fuck they're right. he phones charles trackside to let him know about his new revelation and charles' like "...pierre i've known this for years this is not a new revelation by any means"

(also i feel like when pierre meets marc he's like "wait marc's like...closer to my age? how would marc have been idolizing valentino if we're all the same age? wait HOW old is valentino?"...because even pierre's drawing the line at years-long grudge holding when there's an age gap "because at least me and esteban actually grew up together. why was valentino sparring with a child?")

next time pierre and valentino meet pierre's nervous because he's really grown to love his bonding sessions with valentino (despite them being based on shared delusion) and finally feeling REALLY understood and he doesn't want that to stop and all of this anguish is SO visible on pierre's face and valentino's like "uhhh...are you good?" to which pierre immediately blurts out how he realized his suppressed feelings for esteban after meeting marc and seeing how amazing he is and "valentino i hope you're not mad at me!". and valentino's like "...you thought i'd be mad at you succumbing to marc's charm...lmao bitch me too! now we just have one more thing to talk about!".

and somehow (because i said so) this turns into pierre and valentino working together to win back the loves of their lives...and even though it shouldn't work it totally does (again because i said so). endgame pierresteban and rosquez.

(okay despite the fact that i said i was taking creative liberties with this universe i wanted to see if pierre had ever talked about motogp before and i found this article which simultaneously contradicts and supports everything about my imaginary universe...and you know we're just gonna run with it!!!)

[timetravellingkitty]

omg your tags about indira's assassination reminded me of this indian international student that my roommates used to be friends with. okay so for context all three of these roommates are white, so before they knew me well she would just tell them these insane "facts" about india and whenever they were like "uhhh im not too sure about that" she would say they're all white and she knows better then them. some highlights include:

-saying that they didn't have brooms in india (so she didn't know how to use one) to justify leaving her toenails clippings in the living room (after a bit of pushing she admitted that she grew up with maids but it's actually super common!!!)

-that her islamophobia was justified because "in india muslims are actually oppressive" (this one my roommates actually tried to argue with her on and got her to stop being openly islamophobic by saying her """justified""" islamophobia would get mistaken for the racist kind of islamophobia we have in the west so it's better for her to stop 💀💀)

-one day i came downstairs to her talking to one of my roommates and she asked me "what do you think about indira gandhi's assassination" and me being raised sikh went "oh it fucking rocked i'm glad she died" which was apparently the WRONG answer because she idolized her ("she's like what hilary clinton is to you guys to me" (horrible example, my roommates are communists))

anyways i have so many stories about her (and she fucking HATED me to the point of calling me a "fake indian" (true but im not taking that from her!!) because anytime my roommates would mention anything she said about india i would go "wait that's not true at all..")

didn't have brooms in india is WILD what do they think they beat our asses with I desperately need more stories now

[monayen]

uhhh I dunno really but — maybe a fic of reader just walking in the forest because they r lost then getting caught in a bear trap nyen set up and uh he does something fucked up to reader, like fucks them then kills them or something? Or something heavy gore related while he fucks them.. sorryyy ahhh (I’m a damn masochist.)

The Lost Camper | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, unsafe sex, fear play, knife play, blood kink, stabbing, sadism, fingering, violence, degradation, dacryphilla, READER DEATH

a/n - this came out to 4k words :') i know anon described a bear trap/hunting-esque situation but i felt making the reader a more cryptic-like being of the woods made a bit more sense (and easier to fit in) either way, reminder that this is DARK. there isn't a happy ending and the reader does freakin' die. (though rebirth is implied. see it how ya' do) i apologize for any mistakes as this is my longest work to date (whoop whoop) thank you for your comments and requests on both ao3 and tumblr. keeps me motivated ^^ currently working on a Randal fic and some Luther headcannons :3 inbox open as always. ANYWAYS ENOUGH

You aren't sure why you decided to hop over the Ivory household's security measures and rummage through their things while they slept. You’ve seen campers before in these woods plenty of times. Hundreds, if you kept count… but you don't.

You also don't ever interact with campers these days either. They didn’t tend to be special and they didn’t ever really get in the way. Maybe you’ll spook them by hovering around behind the greenery, sticks cracking underneath rugged boots. They don't interest you anymore beyond listening to them talk about their boring, human lives. 

It doesn't make them completely irrelevant to you though, as you’ve gained a habit of sneaking onto their campsites. You steal – quite often. Well, as often as people come this deep into the woods. It's how you justify it, how else are you supposed to get canned food and new clothes? And so what if you also take a couple of books you can't read and stuffed animals whose furs mat under dirty hands. The mossy den you reside in could always use new things, even if you have no use for them.

For as long as you remember, it has been like this. A being of the woods, you’ve become a cryptic-like legend. “The Lost Camper”, you’re called. Whatever that means. You aren't sure what life is like past bark and muddy soil, clothes messy and hands rough. You were never lost, this is all you know.

Is it all so bad? So bad that humans go out of their way to tell campfire stories about your existence? The grass gives you more comfort than any sleeping bag can. 

So there really wasn't any need for you to be past that fence they set up. The truth was that they were… interesting. More interesting than any other family who ventured out here. You saw as they gathered around and talked, well, two were doing most of the talking. Brothers, apparently. (despite not looking much alike) 

They tagged along a couple more… characters. Notably, these two catmen that hovered around the older one of the brothers. They looked more alike, cat ears dawning their similar haircuts. You could tell them apart by their clothes – easier, their demeanors. 

The blue haired one stood hunched, staring at his… ”master” talk. Immediately, you could tell he was the more timid of the two. You observed the other pinkish haired one smoke a cigarette a few steps away from the group. His eyes – eye, actually – looked low and dark. The patch on one of them leaves you to wonder what might've happened for it to be left in such a state. Catching his name from his master, “Nyen”, which made sense considering his appearance.

You must have been staring too long, because suddenly Nyen lifts his head and his sunless eye meets yours for a second. Ducking quickly behind the trees, it should have been your sign to leave, to go on your merry way of collecting berries and getting high off of mushrooms for entertainment. 

But of course – you didn't. Instead, you retreated to the comfort of the conifer and stood idly. The sun set faster than you expected, any thoughts of simply leaving long gone hours ago. An eager smile spread across your face, these unique campers were asleep and you were going to rein free on their grounds. This was going to be the most fun you’ve had in ages!

As you tiptoe to their spot, you point out the odd set up. They had a truck and two tents, but only one tent actually seemed to be occupied. They also left a plethora of things outside unattended. Great for you. 

Nimbly, you start pocketing random things into your large well-loved leather crossbody bag. You’ve rummaged through many people’s unattended things before, but they definitely take it to a different level. This place was filled with bizarre stuff, stuff you’ve never seen before. 

Why the fuck were they carrying several wooden carvings of beavers and… birthday cake flavored “lube”... unsure what the latter was. Either way, you found it all the more entertaining to stuff these random things into your bag, giggling slightly when you pulled out a photorealistic framed drawing of a blue pony with a rainbow mane. 

You were so intrigued by all these things that you didn't realize masked, narrow eyes staring at your figure past the of the darkness camp. 

-

Nyen had been waiting for this. How stupid can you be? He saw you past the trees when the sun was still up, staring with a stable gaze – observing. Your face was shaded by the leaves, but he could see the grip you had on the tree trunk you stood behind. You looked rugged, you weren't just another camper or hitchhiker. He huffs his cigarette, more freaks. Nyen moves his eyes towards his master, clearly already stressed with the hitchhiker they had picked up hours before. Another huff.

His eyes meet yours when he decides to look up again and just as quickly – you're gone. 

Once Luther hears about this, his brows furrow slightly at the idea of another thing to deal with. “Oh dear, I just can't catch a break.” Nyen waits for his master to continue.

Randal (who totally wasn't eavesdropping) perks up once he recognizes who they were talking about, “Oh! Oh! You mean the…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “The Lost Camper…” Luther twists his head to stare at his brother, “Is that the name?” 

Randal nods excitedly, “I’ve read all about her! Apparently, she’s a ghost. Or like a cavewoman. Or an animal-hybrid. I actually didn't read that much.” He shrugs, “She doesn't hurt people, I think. Just swipes a few things and wonders around. Which is a little boring, would love it if something tried to kill us! AGAIN!”

Luther shakes his head and looks back at Nyen, “Hm, it’s too late now to move everything back inside…” He places a finger on his chin, “If that's true, then deal with her if she becomes a problem, alright?” 

Nyen nods, “Yes sir.”

From what Randal said, he knew you would most likely lurk in the incognito of the night. So he took his stance outside the tent everyone else slept in. 

He almost giddily twirls the handle of the knife, waiting and waiting. Hours pass, he doesn't have a watch but his internal clock tells him it’s around 3 am when he finally spots you. Look at you, being a problem.

Your back is faced away from him. Through the darkness, (and thanks to his skill of seeing well in the dark) he witnesses the silhouette of your thievery. Nyen can't point out exactly what you are taking but all he can imagine is his master’s upset face if he sees things are missing. The grip on his knife tightens.

He needs to wait again, wait for the perfect moment, wait to pounce . Nyen hears giggles escape your mouth – small, but he hears it. His jaw clenches. How dare you tee-hee while taking his family's very important stuff? He almost wants to lunge at you straight away, but he decides against it. Nyen wants to stab you in the throat and watch the blood splurt once you turn around. He just needs to get a bit closer…

SNAP

How irritating. Nyen just had to step on a twig. 

Your reaction time is just as fast as his, darting into the dark woods with him quickly trailing behind you.

Nyen huffs to himself. He wanted to make this quick, but he certainly doesn’t mind a chase.

-

Holy shit, shit, shit. Thoughts race a thousand miles per hour, with your legs following right behind. You admittedly got too into it that you weren’t focusing, now you have to make a great escape. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to run away from a camper, there was a time where a woman got spooked by you on her way to take a piss. Her scream was so loud that you immediately dashed past her, dropping the clothes you had stolen. Her husband (presumably an experienced outdoorsman) actually trekked through the woods with a shotgun for a while as you held your breath in the branches above. Ultimately, her family was gone before the sun was down. 

But you aren't sure you can just avoid this one. You allow yourself to turn peek behind you and see him . The smoking catman, Nyen. The shade of the night is heavy, but you’ve adapted to see well in the dark. You’re sure he has that skill too with the way his gaze is steady, hard, and right on yo u through terrifying masked eyes. Where did his eyepatch go?

Shaky hands clutch the filled crossbody bag that jumps with your every movement. If you had to go through this, you at least want to keep the stuff. 

Just tire him out, you think. It's reassuring that you know these woods like the back of your hand. You’ve tread several miles, exploring and wondering, though never finding a road. (Odd.)

Agilely weaving him past trees and fallen logs, your boots try to find leaf covered ground in an attempt to not leave visible tracks, but that would cause you to move slower – and you can't afford that. You assume with enough loops and turns, he will lose your trail.

A loud, gravelly yell can be heard behind you, “You can't run forever!” It makes your heart hammer because it's true. You aren't sure how long you’ve been running now but it feels like hours .

Periodically, you pause to catch your breath, but it isn't long before you hear his heavy steps get closer and closer, forcing the chase to start again.

It’s terrifying. You have amazing stamina. It's part of being in these woods, moving a lot. Nyen is different though, you don't think he’s stopped once. He’s a hunter, a bit slower than his prey but always behind. 

Huffing, you duck under branches and jump over uneven ground with aching legs, barely catching yourself a few times. It’s strenuous to carry on like this, so close to giving out. It’s impossible to focus with this adrenaline pumping through your veins, are you going in circles? Herbage you’re so used to begin to feel like a labyrinth of ever consuming moss and vines. 

Managing to keep your distance, you start to believe that maybe you’ve lost him when the echo of rushed footsteps begin to fade. There’s a wave of relief when all that can be heard is the sound of heavy panting and earth stirring underneath sore feet. 

You close your eyes as you continue to move forward, wind flowing through your hair with momentum. It’s just for a second, for a moment of clarity. It's a terrible second. Your right ankle rolls horribly on a rock, making you tumble down with shriek. It reverberates past trees and you’re sure he's heard it. 

He’s already closing the gap, leaves shuffling behind you. Regaining composure with gritted teeth, you come to the conclusion that he can have his damn things. It’s not worth running forever. Peeking at your quickly growing swollen ankle, you aren't sure you even could.

Finding an area where the trees thin out with patches of soft grass, you use the last of your excretion to exclaim, “Wait, wait!” Facing him finally, he stops feet away from you. 

You finally get a closer look at him. His stance is still aggressive, as if you are about to take off at any moment. You see his glare filled with pure disdain, thin lips curling in a snarl. His eyes go beyond his bizarre mask, it feels like he's piercing you with them.

“Say it.” It's a husky voice that makes the anxiety in your stomach swirl. You realize you haven't been face to face with someone in… a while.

Croaking out with a strained voice, “Look, here. Have it back, I don't want it anymore.” With shaking hands, you tug the worn leather over your body and drop it onto the ground in between you two. Gulping, you scan his figure for any type of reaction.

That's when you notice a glint in his hand – a knife. Maybe it was foolish to assume he wouldn't have a weapon on him, he was chasing you after all. But it dawns on you that you don't have one. 

Nyen seems to pick up on your sudden stiffening, taking a step forward. It takes everything in you to not take off, but you know it would be fruitless with a sore ankle. 

“I know who you are.” You shake, “You do?” He nods slowly, “Randal told me about you. ‘The Lost Camper’, a habitual thief and urban legend. A fucking pussy too.” 

A low laugh escapes his lips, he’s getting closer. “So, you think you can just get away with this?” Sweat builds even heavier on your brow and you shake your head, “No, no. I’m – I’m sorry. I didn't mean to–” He cuts you off, “You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing. You need to be dealt with. ”

Your flight instinct kicks in and despite the light injury you sustained, your feet begin to move on their own. It's not fast enough though, he lunges at you and the sudden weight causes you to fall down with a pained hiss.

There's a tackle, he's grabbing at you while you try to force yourself up under him. It’s incredibly rough, there isn't enough room to struggle around with how his weight presses you down.

You watch terribly as Nyen brings his knife up in the air. The pale moon shines on the blade, and for a second, you see the reflection of your terrified face before it stains red. 

A guttural scream forces out of your mouth, making you throw your head back before it crooks back down to see crimson blood seep through your jeans down the side of your thigh. 

Nyen doesn't waste time in pulling the blade back, watching how you writhe in pain. Through teary eyes, you see pure excitement spread across his shaded face. He’s enjoying this. 

You can barely resist when he's forcing your thick jacket off your body – not satisfied with how the material lessens the cuts he’s adorning your body. “Don't do this…” It’s meek and pathetic, you know but you can't help it. He stands above, blood staining his hands. 

“It's already happening.” It's deep and low, and you feel every drip of venom that laces his words. 

You witness Nyen begin to rub the growing bulge in his tan jeans, causing your stomach to twist in a way that you're scared you may vomit out of the fear and pain. The catman groans, “Fuck… I’m going to make a mess out of you.”

Soon enough, he strips you of your worn shirt and jeans clothes. It's scary how Nyen handles you like a ragdoll, no concern for the twists and gashes your injured body has to endure. 

“So this is what you were hiding under all that? Lucky me.” It’s so condescending that you grit your teeth. For any chance of keeping your dignity, an attempt of covering yourself and moving is made – but it’s met with a swift kick to your ribs that results in burning heaving.

A cold hand slips under your bra, lifting it over and groping at your chest. Whimpering, you attempt to shy away from his touch but he draws you back with an even colder tip of a blade that swipes across your skin. 

Red drapes over your body like a warm blanket in contrast to the cool chill of the forest air. You can almost stare off into the starry night you are so used to while you try to regain bated breath, just for an escape.

Nyen doesn't allow this though. He flips you over roughly onto your stomach, ripping away the comforting sky from your vision. Again, you want to at least protest when he greedily spreads your legs open, hand prodding at your sensitive heat.

Shit. You don't remember the last time you ventured into anything sexual. Maybe you’d rub one out when the idea popped up, but it never really did. You’ve seen a… er– dildo (if you remember correctly what it was called) once or twice when snooping around camps. It gave you a good laugh then, but you would ultimately leave it. 

Now you can feel how his hard length presses up against you. It’s an uncommon sensation, and fuck – why does it have to be big? 

Cutting your underwear off, his long fingers soon dip into the heat of your pussy, pushing in and out. You gasp and tremble underneath his touch. He doesn't wait for you, curling his digits up as growing wetness coats his knuckles. It's disgustingly good, making your traitorous body clench around his fingers. 

Nyen looms over you, wiping the soaked knife onto dark long sleeves, helping him keep his grip on the handle. Then, he pulls his fingers out of you, tauntingly slow to hear how you whimper pathetically. “Look at you, bitch. You're fucking dripping.” He mixes the juices with your blood, “Heh, in more ways than one.”

With unbuckled jeans, he moves fully on top of you, knees pining the sides of you down as he grunts against your soft ass. Nyen then grips your hair and pulls your head back, curving your spine into an uncomfortable position. His knife finds its way to your exposed neck. 

Shaking, it nips at your skin as shallow breaths escape you. He brings himself closer . “Should I just kill you now? What do you think, slut?” Adrenaline rushes through your body, a shameful cry escapes you, “No, no! Don't– don't!” 

He grinds against you, “Then beg.” Shaking your head, you respond – “Please. Please let me go, I’m sorry.” A deep sinister chuckle responds, “No, bitch.” He yanks your head back even farther. Feeling his hot breath against your face, he spits, “Beg for me to fuck you.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, shutting tightly when his blade grazes hurt skin once more. His hard length prods at your entrance – waiting. With a deep breath, you whisper oh-so pathetically. “Please fuck me.” You pray it's enough.

“Better than that. C'mon, or I’ll slit your pretty little fucking throat.” He yanks your hair, pushing into your skin. You panic, fat tears streaming down your face. “No! Don't kill me! Please, please just fuck me. Please.”  

Your screams turn into loud cries, echoing onto the tall trees that surround the scene. Nyen relishes in your wails, nails digging into the back of your scalp before his cock sinks into you roughly. You squirm with a loud pained gasp, you weren't close to ready for him. 

His knife (thankfully) removes itself from your neck, grip on the handle still iron strong. It doesn't give you anything to distract from as he stretches you out incredibly painfully. Inch by inch, your muscles contract and try to adjust to his size – but it's not nearly enough when he begins to start to move. 

“You're so fucking tight.” He lets out a sharp grunt, skin slapping against yours. “You've never fucked, haven’t you?” All you can do is cry. “Perfect.”

Forgetting the threat of his knife, he reminds you with a deep slash across your back. Pain vibrates through you, hands grip at soil and blades of grass in an attempt to stiffen the burning sensation that consumes you. Nausea festers and chokes at the back of your throat, certain that if you had eaten this morning it’d be spilling out your mouth by now.

It's an entrancing sight for Nyen, the large gash displays the crimson beautiful blood dripping down your arched back and onto your asscheeks as he slams into you. It’s a lot of blood. So much so that he feels how you physically weaken under him, fully incapacitated.

He decides to flip you back onto your back once again like the ragdoll you are. There, he can see how the light in your eyes start to dim. Red, and swollen, and tear rimmed – they stare back at him, wordlessly pleading for any type of mercy.

Nyen ignores it, choosing to grab your injured thighs and hike them over his broad shoulders, angling even deeper inside of you. Tight muscles draw him closer, grunting at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. “Shit, you're a greedy fucking thing, aren't you?” He spits at you, grabbing your face to make sure your eyes stay on him, inches separating your faces. 

You don't respond, hoarse cries and moans are all the sounds you can make. Nyen’s mask taunts you, wide eyes never leaving yours as his nails scratch at your chest and waist, marking and trailing. Nyen’s nails even have the nerve to dig into your open wounds, forcing the blood to escape even faster. 

Any pleas you can muster out fall on deaf ears, and you almost wish he killed you before all this. But then it clicks that this is all just a game to him – you're simply a toy. The evil grin on his face is evident of this, he's truly enjoying watching this horrible scene come undone by his hands. The chase, the torture, your cries . It only makes his heavy cock harder and his thrusts sloppier. 

Your head is woozy and your vision is getting blurry. Numbness circuits through your body, the only thing you can feel is the sensation of his cock ramming into you over and over again. 

Nyen lets go of your face and chooses to grab at your bouncing tits, squeezing hard enough to create bruises. His twitching cock then rubs inside of you perfectly . A loud whine follows that causes Nyen’s jaw clench at the sudden extra pressure around his length, “Ah, hgh,– take my cum like the pathetic bitch you are,”

Stars in your vision soon mix with the stars in the night sky, you can't feel your legs anymore, neither your arms. Blood loss is getting to you – and quickly.

His body drives into yours, the sensation of gore under you squelches around against skin and dirt. Then, the knot building inside your numbing abdomen finally snaps, your breath hitches and you keen loudly – writhing around him.

Nyen soon follows, basically growling at how your pulsating pussy feverishly sucks him in and empties his balls. He rides the orgasm, fucking his cum deep inside you, and basking in the gripping release.

When he pulls out and off of you, your body limps on the ground. Overlooking, he can see how your lungs shallowly take in much needed air. Blood glistens off your cut adorned skin, and god is it a fucking beautiful sight.

He tucks his cock back into his blood soaked jeans, and he can already hear about how it's extra laundry to do now. But frankly, he doesn't care. Nyen gives you a once over, just to make sure the image of you really seeps into his brain. After well enough, he pockets his knife and walks over to the criminal leather bag that started this all. 

Suddenly, a weak grip holds onto his ankle. You.

You look at him with big, lidded eyes and croak out, “Wait… wait– am I… am I going to die?” He stares back at your frightened face with his reactionless one. It's quick before he gives you a sinister smile, then he yanks his ankle out from your grasp and grabs the bag that lays beside you. 

“Yeah, probably.” He then pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket and lights it, flicking hot ash onto your chest. 

“You were a good fuck though, I’ll give you that.” It’s patronizing. A final tear streams down your cheek as you watch him walk into the fog of the trees without another word.

You stare at the sky once again, leaves sway above and let moonlight peek through. Your inhales seem to be getting shorter and shorter, but you don't realize. You just pay attention to the movement of the leaves and the formation of stars. 

Grass picks at the back of your head, it’s soft – one of the only things you can feel besides excruciating pain. You let it be your pillow, the comfort that is ever fleeting from your grasp. 

This wasn't a fate you ever expected to have, it wasn't even proper death. It all makes you want to get up and fight for yourself. To live. He wasn't going to win. 

But reality sinks in when your vision fills with black spots, and you remember you're actively bleeding out, abused and hurt. Dying. It hurts to move, and the lone thought of welcoming it reverberates in your mind. It’s okay… It’s okay… 

With a final breath and ringing ears, darkness finally mercifully consumes you. 

To the dirt you were born, to the dirt you return to. 

And to the dirt you will rise up from again. 

[professorwerewolfmcwerewolf]

Okay, I have an idea. Gotta admit, first, I haven't watched most of Chicago PD (or Med but that's not relevant here. I've seen all of Fire). I was already in love with the Halsteads and now I've fallen in love with Mouse as a character. I also fully blame @kitweewoos and @gregorygerwitz for that. And I'm not sure if y'all's hc of Mouse's parents being rich and having disowned him is just a hc or somewhat implied in canon, but it's fully canon in my brain.

Alright. My idea. When Mouse starts to get restless being part of the unit, his initial thought is still reenlisting because that's familiar. And Voight tightening the fucking leash just totally reconfirms the need to get out. But then for some reason or another. (maybe Moustead happens and he can't bring himself to leave Jay even if he has to leave the unit. Maybe he gets to talking to Severide or Hermann or any of our 51 firefighters at Molly's.)

He starts looking into the CFD. He would still need his record cleared. But even if Platt had had hesitation, uh clearing his record so he can join the fire academy? *(calls Mouch)* Babe, I got you a veteran to join the cfd! He already comes with a nickname!

And so Mouse signs up for the next like available opening in the academy. And with a sus amount of luck *(side eyes Sargeant Platt)*, his number's called the same year. He's hopeful. The lack of gunfire is a relief as much as a bummer, but it's not a deterrent. And he isn't 100% sure how he'll do if he gets too close to explosion or gets a serious injury, but he'd have that same uncertainty overseas, just extra likely. And, of course, Jay is thrilled. Voight isn't, but he also isn't acting as much like a toddler because he has to respect the CFD. But Jay's thrilled that Mouse isn't trying to put himself through That™️ again. He feels guilty for a bit when he thinks maybe Mouse dropped the reenlisting idea just to placate him, but Mouse tells him it was just his first idea.

So Mouse goes through the fire academy, fucking excels. The soldier-like bits are like coming home. This he knows. This he can do. Sure, he might need to fill his free time with stuff to use his tech skills so boredom never leads him to hack the wrong shit while tipsy, but he would've done that anyway. He's not even opposed to helping out the unit, but only when they actually just can't figure it out themselves.

Fresh out of the academy, he obviously becomes a candidate at Firehouse 51. Do they need one right now? Don't care. They're getting Mouse. They need a new stray, and he needs a bigger family than just Jay and Will via Jay. Okay, I just checked the timeline, and Mouse's last CPD episode was conveniently at the same time as Jimmy Borelli's uhhh incident 🔥🫠 in October 2016. So, 51 does, in fact, need a candidate. 🫢😅

Humor in the tags. But seriously. Mouse can't decide if he absolutely hates them trying to include him in stuff (because past experiences say this is a lie and they wanna lure him into a false sense of security before being shit, despite the fact they've never individually given him bad vibes before) or desperately wants to do good to feel like he deserves them.

This part specifically applies to the Gerwitz-family-being-rich hc: It doesn't take the house long to piece together Gerwitz, and that Mouse isn't involved in his parents' lives. But you know Otis. Otis is Otis. Mouse is a candidate. So naturally, he's gonna joke about it. Mouse is fine at first, just acts like he didn't hear him or just glares or walks away, and everyone else has the decency not to laugh if it's the latter two reactions. Otis continues. Until one day, he jokingly implies nepotism. Mouse stops him in the locker room. "Listen, funny guy. I get this. The hazing is part of the job. It's fine. And you have plenty of material to work with. You wanna joke about my service, my addiction, working for the intelligence unit, my friendship with Jay? I don't care. But you make another crack about nepotism like my parents gave a single fuck about me after I wasn't their perfect little socialite? Like I wasn't fully disowned and cut off? That's a fight you won't win, Zvonecek." And his pronunciation of Otis' last name being perfect is oddly the sticking point for him. Otis is a bit butt hurt for a few days, but accepts the honesty and threat as good enough reason to back off on that topic.

[elvensorceress]

Sunday Sentences

way more than 7 of them because it's been a while and you deserve all of these 💕 tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @monsterrae1 @messyhairdiaz @theotherbuckley thank you, beloveds 💕 tagging @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @housewifebuck @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @giddyupbuck @911onabc @eddiediaaz @thespermdonorstorylineisstupid @ronordmann @shitouttabuck @babytrapperdiaz @fleurdebeton @buddierights if you haven't posted yet and want to share something 😘

from the Unless finale

Eddie leans in closer, pressing harder, more securely against Buck from shoulders to thighs. “I wanted you,” he whispers and leaves a light brush of a kiss on Buck’s lips. “I want you.”

Buck holds onto him but leans to the side to look at him with a puzzled expression on his face. “You want me?”

What sort of question is that? No, Eddie does this all the time to everyone. He’s the one stealing firetrucks and hooking up in bar bathrooms. Because those are things Eddie would do. When he can’t even talk about having sex even with the man he loves without panicking. Whatever. Of course he wants Buck. “Do you think I don’t?”

“N-no. No, I don’t mean. I mean— what? What do you mean?”

Eddie means this is the strangest conversation he and Buck have ever had. Which says a fucking lot. “What do you think I mean? I want you. I wanted more. I wanted you to stay. You and your hard-on. We could have—” Eddie’s still not sure where they might’ve landed on the they could have had sex spectrum. But it would have been something more than Buck running to jerk off alone because he was too turned on and thought it wasn’t welcome. “I mean maybe you aren’t ready to have sex yet. I get that. We haven’t even said if we’re dating dating and it’s only been hours that we’ve been together. So… maybe this was better. Maybe we should wait. But…” 

But he doesn’t know how to finish that thought other than Buck should have stayed. He needs Buck to stay. He wants Buck with him. He wants to take care of him and love him and be good for him. 

Buck blinks at him then leans back even further and stares with a scrunched look of trying to do complicated math and failing at it. He even holds up a hand like he needs a teacher to call on him and answer his questions. “What? I just. I don’t understand. What do you—what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” 

“I mean who are you and what have you done with Eddie and I don’t know what you mean by, I want you. And we should wait? And you think I’m not ready to have sex yet? Why do you think we’re going to have sex? What do you want with me? Of me? What do you— w-what do you want when you say, you want me?”

What else might it mean? Were they not just making out all over the kitchen? Is it not obvious? Eddie didn’t think he would have to spell it all the way out. But maybe direct and to the point is the best approach? 

He rests both his hands on Buck’s chest. His very soft, very warm, very muscled and beautiful chest with his beautiful beating heart that Eddie swears he can feel racing beneath his fingers. “Buck,” he says slowly, passionately, with as much warmth and love as he can possibly pour into his words. “I want to have sex with you.” 

It doesn’t quite have the reaction Eddie was expecting. Or hoping for. Not that he knows exactly what he thought might happen, but Buck just blinks at him like Eddie’s suddenly confessed he was wrong and actually does believe in jinxes and the “q-word curse” and other stupid superstitions. 

But he’s not the one who responds to Eddie’s declarative wanting anyway. 

“Uhhh. If you’re going to do that, can you not do it in the kitchen,” Chris says from the doorway. “I eat here. We all eat here. It would have to be some kind of health hazard violation.”

Chris is leaning against the doorway. Without his crutches. Which somehow makes him far too stealthy and quiet. Either that or Eddie was just way too distracted with... never mind.

Eddie’s stomach, lungs, liver, kidneys, heart all plummet out of his body. Metaphorically of course because literally dying of mortification would give him an out from this situation. That would be too easy. 

He pulls away from Buck and steps backward until he’s at the opposite side of the room, while Buck is left with his arms hanging in midair, curved around where Eddie used to be. 

“We’re not,” Eddie says. “We weren’t doing— anything. We weren’t going to. We were just talking.”

Chris gives him a withering, skeptical look that only makes him look a thousand percent like his mother. 

Which Eddie absolutely cannot handle right now.

“H-hey, Chris,” Buck steps toward the doorway, coincidentally or maybe not so coincidentally between Eddie and Chris, and turns into his bubbly, eager, friendly self. “Are you— are you hungry? Do you still want those pancakes? Cinnamon swirls and cream cheese icing? I was getting ready to make them for us.”

Chris wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Not hungry anymore. What’s going on? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Buck looks back to Eddie with clear worry all over his face, and Eddie tries to silently convey that everything is okay. Chris isn’t in the dark about how Eddie feels about Buck. He’s not angry with them. 

Eddie’s pretty sure anyway. “It only just happened. We weren’t keeping anything from you.” 

Chris gapes at him with wide, horrified eyes. “It just happened? That’s how you told Buck? By saying that? Oh my god, Dad! What were you thinking? That is so embarrassing.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open. “N-no. No! That wasn’t— That wasn’t how.”

Chris’ very disbelieving, very Shannon-face comes out again, and Eddie sags against the counter and rubs a hand over his suddenly aching head. 

“No. Chris,” Buck says gently but solidly. Something firm and stead through storms and Eddie just wants to hold onto him and never let go. “Your dad told me last night that he’s in love with me. And I love him, too. I love you both more than anything.”

Chris turns his scrutinizing gaze on Buck this time and still looks skeptical, but also not so horrified. Just wary. 

At this point, Eddie will take what he can get.