#ao3 was down so i posted it here

[hermioneismyrealname]

This is just what I want to happen in zomvivor. Very focused on Net and James.

Hope To Survive

Word count: 2451

Chapters: 1/1

Characters: Net Siraphop Manithikhun, James Supamongkon Wongwisut, Boss Chaikamon Sermsongwittaya, Park Parnupat Anomakiti, zombies

Rating: not rated.

Langueage: English

Hope To Survive

When James finally reaches the places where they knew to meet. He was happy. He was going to see his Phi again. They had made it. Just one more door.

Then his hope shatters. He opens the door and a group of white shirts are fighting with each other. They have a zombie with them. Everyone sees the door open, including the zombie. It changes its plan of attack and heads straight for James at the door. James and Boss are ready.

That squelch was sickening. Everyone stood in horror as Net tried to stop the zombie on his, chasing after it but it turned around and went for the single target. James saw how his Phi lifted his arm to protect himself and resulted in that sound that James wasn’t sure he would be able to forget.

But the zombie held on, biting deeper, there was no way out of this. James reacted before anyone else, before it got worse. He grabbed Boss’s bat and swung. The zombie fell to the floor and with it, so did Net but he was out of the jaws now. James hovered over some former students’ head and decapitated the rotting face from its bloody neck. He kept the shovel with him and threw the bat back at Boss.

His hope convulses through him, draining out of him and breaking him. He can feel it shatter within him. His hope, the whole reason he fought so hard to get to this level was because his phi was be waiting for him. James made him wait too long because now his hope was on the floor.

“Phi!” he runs only to be pushed back by someone he can’t be bothered to recognize. They pin Net’s limbs to the floor now. His eyes are on the one who’s been waiting for all this time. James looks nowhere else.

“Stay away.” Net gasps. He is telling James to stay away and yet, his arm goes up and his palm is open. An invitation that James should reject, fight to stay away.

James reaches for him. He wants to be near him and finally touch him. It was his fault they separated. He was the reason his Phi was left alone. Was he the reason they stayed here and risked getting bitten?

Was he the reason Net was turning into something neither of them could imagine a few hours ago?

That fight they had, was Net so desperate to make amends that he made the wrong choice instead. James cursed him anyway. He should have ran away. He should have saved himself. He should have done everything to make sure that they see each other again. But not like this.

Not when he was moments away into becoming something James had been running from and killing all day. Would he have to run away from Net his entire life?

There was no announcement. Not a sound came from any of their phones. Batteries were dead, except for a couple that were turned off to save power. Only one was on. It was Park’s. Turn one on, when one ran out. That way they would have more time. The government would have done something by know if they could, right? How many more minutes did Net have before he would attack James, the person he swore years ago to protect.

He fought whoever was holding him down. James knew he shouldn’t get closer but the tears were blinding him, the only thing that gave any indication to James that it was his Phi was his strangled voice, begging him to stay away. Others were holding him down, not knowing what else to do.

James knew what he had to do. He had already done for someone else. Someone he didn’t even know and yet in her final moments she thanked him. He knew Net would do the same but he didn’t know if he could. He still had that shovel, still coated in infected blood. The student had been using it the entire time to protect himself, to make him realize that he can get to his Phi and help him.

There was only one thing James could help him with now. To repay for all the kindness, the sincerity, and the acceptance he was able to feel with his arm intertwined with Net’s. For the entire time, they held hands and laced fingers when he cried. He wouldn’t be able to feel that warmth anymore. James was hoping for a reunion hug at least, even if the last words he had said to the other were ‘I hope I never see you again.’

What cruel words. Even if this zombie apocalypse didn’t happen, even if it was supposed to be the simple last few days for the seniors, James should have never said to him. Even if Net was graduating and carrying on with his life. He thought if it was either of them, he thought it would be James to leave the duo, so he made that move. James was the one to make the decision to leave him and whatever they had before whatever future they became together would only hurt him. It wasn’t fair that it took Net so long to finally pay attention to his nong. It wasn’t fair that they only spent 4 years together when he could have had Net all his life and yet James was calling the world cruel when he had good cards and played the wrong hand.

He kneeled down and when the tears gave way to what little light was left in this room, he saw that Net was crying too.

Net was shaking his head. “Don’t come closer.” He said.

But James knew Net better than to trust his words. His body called out to him, but that could be blamed on the bite on his arm. The once beautiful veins that graced those arms that once held James so tight and safe were now turning a sickly green. It was spreading but it hadn’t reached his eyes yet. Those dark, deep black chasms of affection, love and fear. They were pleading him to go and be safe and yet James saw guilt.

James knew that Net wanted to stay with him. He knelt dangerously close, the convulsing was beginning to overtake him. To prevent Net from doing somehting he will regret in his last moment, James, gently nudged the girl away and knelt on his shoulder, pinning him in place and tugged his strewn hair back. It must have hurt but James had to show how much he loved his Phi.

Knowing that there was no way that Net’s lips could touch him, he leaned forward and Net’s eyes began to overflow. James filled the kiss, he placed on his forehead, full of love and affection he was always too shy to return in public. It was one of the many things Net wanted to do, be openly affectionate and show amazing James was but respected that James would rather do that on his own. In private they would hold hands and kiss each other. Surrounded by people trying to survive, he allowed himself one moment knowing it would be his last chance to tell him.

“I love you, phi.” James’s voice breaks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There was never a time that he wished to kiss those lips that had always given affirmation he needed. Those words of protection that Net promised to fulfil.

“I love you. I love you, phi. I’m sorry I said all that. I love you. There is nothing more than I want now is to have more years with you. I should have told you when you told me. I loved you then. I love you now. Damn you phi. I’m going to love you even if you try and hurt me or bite me. Even now, I love you even if you cannot say it back.”

James knows he shouldn’t be this emotional, not when everyone’s lives are at stake. But his Phi deserves to know.

Net is fighting. He wills his tears to go away so that he can see James clearer.

“Pocket.” He groans. “My pocket. For you.”

The man Net loves goes still and wide eyed. James undoes the safety pin that kept the contents of his formerly white shirt pocket safe from falling out. He pulls out an open black face mask packet. It’s empty and washed out. Well-kept too. It was the first face mask they had bought for each other.

“Inside. Wanted to gift—" He coughs blood tainted with streaks of green and black. James doesn’t see it.

Instead, he sees the rings. Two identical rings. A silver band intertwined with a gold band. One for each of them. Quickly, he slides Net’s signet ring off and puts on one of the rings in the packet, the bigger one. James wears his signet ring on the other hand as to not lose it, to keep it. James slides the matching ring on his finger, he doesn’t dwell on how he tries the ring finger first or how it’s a perfect size and shows it to Net. His eyes are turning white.

“Yes, phi. Yes.” James doesn’t know what he’s saying yes to but whatever Net’s question was, it would have been a yes.

Net is smiling but its soft now. The convulsions are almost none existent. The calm before the storm. Net’s final moment of sobriety. His hand is free and goes to James’s cheek, he caresses softly as he has always done for his nong. James kisses the inside of his palm. The last warmth he feels before it goes numb was the tears and the softness of his lips that he never got to truly taste. Finally, he knows he loved by his darling.

“We paid our rights together before, na. Don’t worry. I love you always my beautiful tee rak.”

James made sure he hovered over those eyes for as long as they remained brown. He smiles and clings onto those words. He didn’t hear the screams. The groans, the zombie calls outside the glass that was close to collapsing. He didn’t hear anything, not even the protest from the phi he barely recognized. He had one final thing to do.

With the shovel, James stood, towering over him, resting the sharp point on his throat.

James took a final breath and Net closed his eyes with a smile.

The zombie’s free hand flew to the nearest flesh it remembered existed; James’s ankle, but it fell motionless on the floor before it had time to draw blood.

Some creature’s blood now graces it tainted presence on the floor and on James’s shovel. He didn’t waste anymore time. He took advantage of everyone’s shock and pulled rank on them. Everyone ran to the door they came from and James was the last one to the staircase. He didn’t look back and locked the solid door behind him. There was nothing there for him to want to see. He had Net in his memories already and rings to keep safe.

Net lived and died in this life, only managing a life full love for a split second before he returned to the cruel truth that everyone leaves in one way or another. It was time for James to stand up on his own and prove it to himself and to his phi, even if his phi could no longer watch or be at his side. They had felt they had been reborn and met again from their previous life. If so, then they had done their duty to meet again. Their souls would call out to each other and they would find each other again regardless of a different world, time or place. Until then, James had his own life to live and this time, instead of being locked under Net’s arm, he would carry the man he loved around his neck, as close to his soul to remind who he would look for in the next life.

They found the warehouse. A bunch of students had managed to find a place untouched by the hoard of zombie with food, water, and electricity. From scrambling to survive, they managed to save themselves.

The government had deployed troops to schools to save any survivors. The country needed its hope after this catastrophe. The students found a way to keep the warehouse safe from the zombies. They were also armed to the teeth. It was jarring to see a group of teens gravely well equipped to handle themselves. They engineered a way to get the government to this warehouse by intercepting their radio waves in a sound proof box they made from gym mattresses. They had been trying for 3 days with no luck they said.

Soon, life meant staying in a camp heavily protected and monitored by the government. The students who were rescued were interviewed more heavily than other survivors. They had found one school with scattered students, hidden away scarred with only an inch of life left in them. But this group was organized.

So much so that the general took one look at the footage from the body camera and said they would have managed another week even if help didn’t come. They all looked ready to kill even if it was a familiar face. The army was scared of course, but they used them instead. Older people had to listen to high school students on what they learnt and observed from this virus, they were the only ones who seemed capable of talking about it without breaking down so easily.

But every single testimony, every single high school student from that group always had a hand to hold or a person to look for to get them through it. From the government information they still had access to, he was not the oldest. Not the smartest either. No record of positions in leadership or outstanding extra-curricular achievement. This taller but skinnier than most boy was rather a man that held the group together.

James became a man who wore two rings next to his dog tags that broke down when he found out the government had a cure this entire time. A cure that could have been administered even 10 minutes after infection and saved the person. He fell to his knees and cries his heart out for the first time since that shovel went through flesh and hit concrete. His lungs gave out and yet his soul never stopped calling out for the one he loved.

They could have made another survivor and lived…

[shadow1515]

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for. 

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out. 

[goldies-cryptobitch]

Rewatched Wreck-It Ralph the other day because of that new King Candy analysis video and am lowkey tempted to write a short Cy-bug King Candy fic because god I love that guy and there's not a lot of fics of him staying in Cy-bug form.

If only I had the time, lmfao.

[holland-vosijk-antari]

I've been thinking about how white london probably has different kinds of physical affection to red and grey, I can't imagine hugging being common among people who are casual friends like it is in a lot of places here (I'm talking from the pov of someone from an area not too far away from real london so i get that this isnt the case everywhere lol) hugging requires a certain trust that the person you are hugging is doing anything nefarious with their hands - like stabbing you in the back for instance... so i like to think that in white london where trust is about as thin on the ground as magic, hugging is a massive declaration of trust in which you may as well tell the other you love them.

on an additional note it makes me wonder about what affections would be commonplace, would a kiss on the cheek be a more common greeting to someone you care for? would people give a short bow as a greeting towards an acquaintance? (both things very common in many places in this world too so not exactly strange?) or are people simply all-or-nothing with their affections, giving all their affection to one or two people who have their absolute trust and not showing any at all otherwise?

when it comes to greeting a stranger i was taught in my martial arts classes to introduce myself with both hands visible and to shake hands with both of my hands as a sign of respect within the culture so i wonder if that kind of action would be common in makt - dont hide your hands when trying to gain someones trust or they will think you are hiding something...

[the-one-who-lambs]

OH THIS IS SUPER RANDOM but I made a new friend at the con I went to this weekend (because I'm incapable of not doing that I guESS). We were talking a bit about different fandom experiences on different social media platforms since she was on Insta and I keep my fandom stuff on Tumblr

Anyway I asked her for recs for CotL artists on insta because their algorithm is fucky and doesn't show me much so I know there are incredible talents I'm missing out on

And she listed her favorite artists and they're my mutuals. So her taste fucks hard obv. Life is so beautiful

[themoonking]

when people bring up the racism, homophobia, transphobia, romanticization of domestic abuse / rape / pedophilia / incest, literal actual written porn of literal actual real life flesh and blood children, et cetera et cetera on archive of our own, one of the ao3 stannies’ main defenses is “you can just filter out the tags if you don’t want to see that!” when that defense has no fucking legs to stand on.

ao3 is not an archive, it is barely even a website: a rant <3 (very long)

ignoring the fact that it’s a problem that all of that is permitted on the site in the first place (i guess child porn and racism are fine, and the people who allow it on their platform are fine, as long as i, personally, do not see it), that defense literally means nothing. it’s assuming that every little thing on ao3 is tagged properly and it absolutely is not, and if you think it is you are dumber than rocks. i mean for fuck’s sake, just touching on archive warnings and not tags, “creator chose not to use archive warnings” is literally a valid option for fic authors to use when it should fucking not be.

if someone is a freak who thinks that pedo shit is hot, they might not tag it as “rape” (archive warnings OR tags). i’ve literally seen underage father/son rape porn with no trigger warning tags but “child abuse if you squint”. IF YOU SQUINT. if someone thinks that domestic abuse is actually cool and sexy when attractive people do it, they might not tag it as “abuse”. if someone is a freak who likes incest, but bends over backwards to justify it by only shipping adopted family members, then they tell themselves that they don’t view it as incest, and might not tag it as “incest”. if someone is a racist, a homophobe, a transphobe, et cetera and they wrote bigotry into their fic (or else wrote a deliberate troll fic to trigger people on purpose), do you really think they’re going to tag it as racism / homophobia / transphobia / et cetera? and some people get kicks out of writing purposefully triggering content and either leaving it untagged or mistagging it so that people will read it unsuspectingly.

even for just general content tags, it’s a mess. people just forget to tag things all the time. people deliberately won’t tag the endgame ship of their fic because “it’s a spoiler heehee”. people use the romantic or sexual “x / y” tag instead of the platonic or otherwise “x & y” tag, sometimes by mistake sometimes on purpose. it’s a joked about issue how people will tag characters or ships that appear in their fic for two sentences.

there’s no standardization of tags, which is a pretty obvious problem. what first comes to mind is the “dead dove: do not eat” tag which should just not be a tag at all because it just has no meaning. depending on the individual fic writer using it, it could mean anything from “literally the most sickening and depraved thing you’ve ever read in your life” to “horror w/ gore”. but it applies to other vague tags too - different fic writers will have different ideas of what the tag means.

in addition to that, what is and isn’t made a filterable tag, what tags are made synonymous, et cetera, is entirely up to the whims of the site staff. as an example, if you’re trying to look for fanfiction of a singular animated disney movie, the infinite crossovers with other disney movies will not actually be counted as crossovers (which they are) because they’re classified as the “disney theatrical animated universe” (which isn’t a fucking thing), so you can’t filter them out the “exclude crossovers” way. if you try to filter out the fandom tag “disney theatrical animated universe”, it’ll show up with zero fics because that tag is synonymous with every disney animated film (regardless of if the fic author actually used the tag “disney theatrical animated universe” or not), thus also filtering out the one you actually wanted to find.

and do not get me fucking started on the “all media types tags”, which also just shouldn’t be a thing because it makes it fucking impossible to find the specific fics you’re looking for. some people use it in place of tagging a specific canon / adaptation when their fic very clearly draws from one specific canon / adaptation, and you can’t filter it out because it’s synonymous with every fandom tag under its umbrella.

as an example of the issues of both the “all media types” tag and mistagging in general: as a fan of the witcher books, it used to be a fucking ordeal to find fanfiction specifically for the books (post netflix show release). some show fans would, for whatever reason, tag their fics with the book fandom tag in addition to (or even in place of!!) the show fandom tag when their fics were unquestionably show-specific, meaning i could not simply search only in the book fandom tag. i could not simply filter out the show tag, because some show fans would, for whatever reason, tag as fucking “all media types”, when their fics were unquestionably show-specific. and alas, i could not filter out “all media types” and the show tag, so that i see only those fics which have been deliberately and exclusively tagged as the book, not only because as mentioned some show fans would tag their show fics with only the book tag, but also because the fucking all media types tag filters out the book tag as well, leaving me with zero fucking fics REGARDLESS of if the author actually used the “all media types” tag. now, thankfully, i’ve thankfully seen this issue in this specific fandom lessen, but it still occurs in other fandoms and i guarantee that it didn’t lessen in the witcher fandom because of any fixing of the site on the part of ao3 staff.

another common defense of ao3 freaks is that it’s an “archive”, and therefore can’t get rid of anything anyone posts, and disregarding the fact that that is not how archives fucking work, they don’t just allow anything and also ao3 DOES get rid of fics... when they say that they don’t like proshippers, apparently, archives have... you know... archivists. they have someone or a team of someones making sure that everything in the archive is *properly fucking categorized*. they have someone or multiple someones making sure that everything they recieve (1) belongs there and (2) is properly labeled and organized. same for libraries. meaning that if ao3 really were an archive and not a sub par fanfiction website, they’d have something like that in place. something as simple as a report button for fics with a review team that will see if something’s been mis- or untagged. they’d have some kind of standardization of tags (especially the warning / trigger tags) and have proper tagging enforced in some way. and then they could also do something like stop being spineless racists, queerphobes, and pedos have the barest minimum of content guidelines saying that you can’t post fucking hate speech.

if something is mistagged or untagged, the most you can do is leave a comment politely asking that the author fix the issue, and then hope and pray that they do that. and if that person thinks [insert form of abuse] is hot, or if they’re just straight up a bigot that wrote bigotry into their fics to be bigoted, or they’re a troll that gets kick out of deliberately traumatizing people by tricking them into reading their mis/untagged fics, they might not! AND if you see a major tagging issue on an orphaned work, or a work that has an inactive author / hasn’t been updated in forever, good fucking luck getting even a negative response.

you can’t permanently block tags (i mean even tumblr.hell has that), meaning that if you would like to search for fic without coming across something troubling, triggering, or just something you don’t like, you have to either (1) do a work around by having a bookmarked link for every fandom you’re in or every character you like with all of your tags already blocked, (2) download browser extensions that do the work for ao3 because they can’t be bothered themselves, or (3) input every individual tag every time you search ao3 and don’t forget that all of those options only fucking work at all when everything is tagged properly, and we’ve already established its not. you also can’t actually block people (you can only prevent them from commenting) meaning that if there’s a specific person you’d like to stay away from your fics or a specific fic author that you don’t like and would like to stop seeing their fics clogging up the tag, you’re out of luck (though for the latter you could insert “-[username]” into the “search within results” box, but then uh oh we’re right back around to having to input that every time or have a bookmark)

their archive warning system is shit. first of all it’s functionally useless because, as mentioned, “creator chose not to use archive warnings” is an option. what’s the fucking point of special required archive warnings if you’re going to allow people to opt out anyway. second of all, aside from “chose not to use warnings” and “no warnings apply”, the only warnings are “major character death”, “graphic depictions of violence”, “rape/non-con”, and “underage”. disregarding the fact that they shouldn’t be allowing porn of underage characters in the first place (but i’m talking to a brick wall on that issue) and that “non-con” (and “dub-con”) as terminology needs to die, it’s just fucking rape lets not use weasel words... this is a paltry list of possible warnings. there’s no official warnings for depictions of: domestic abuse, animal abuse, depictions of racism / homophobia / transphobia / et cetera, suicide, self harm, et cetera et cetera. and we return to the issue of standardization of tags. in your required archive warnings at very least, there should be a standardization of what these mean, but ao3′s own faq is just like “ehh... you decide. we’ll leave it up to you”. what qualifies as graphic depictions of violence? two people may write the same level of violence, but qualify “graphic” differently, and make different decisions regarding their warnings. and we also return to the issue of: if a freak doesn’t see something that is clearly rape as rape, they might not tag it as such.

this website gets a disgustingly large amount of money every year that it doesn’t fucking do anything with. it’s been over a decade and they’re still in fucking beta. features that would actually be useful, like an actual block system, don’t exist. they technically have a report system for abuse and harassment and such, but apparently what they qualify as abuse and harassment is fickle. ao3 defenders seem to be very proud of the legal work they do for fandom / fanfic authors, but they set aside a very small amount of the money they get every year for legal advocacy, and they actually use even less of that, because it’s not the early 2000s “anne rice hates fanfiction” era anymore - you aren’t going to get fucking sued for writing fanfiction in the first place. based on their own self-reported yearly cost of upkeep, they literally already have enough money to run the site as they are now for the next twenty years.

once again: ao3 is not an archive. it is not a library. it is barely a even a website.

[greglow03]

Cozy Comfort💚💙

An artwork, for my favourite writer's @puhpandas fic "Carbon Fiber Hilt". (Also this be a prezzie 4 u!🤗🎁)

Tried a different art style, and I think it turned out good!🙂

Tony's design is also based off of Percy's. I really love your Tony design!🧡

Also music provided under cut \/\/\/

A gay anthem for the two sweeties!💙💚

[dripsoupp]

In honor of ao3 being down 🫡 i give yall…

CHAPTER 1 of God’s Plan (1.7k words)

main pairing: Lloyd/Javier

tags: time travel, mlm, minor original characters, dual pov

Back in time

All was going as planned. Developments were swiftly underway and some new cargo was set to arrive in a few days. Lloyd couldn’t help but grin himself silly. Things were finally looking up, looking stable. About damn time! A hum escaped his mouth, satisfaction plastered on his face.

He shouldn’t get too comfortable though if his past life was of any remembrance and indication. It’s at times like these where he should work himself to the bone. To ensure his future. His life. His wealth.

This was no time to slack off. Lloyd was ready. Ready for whatever life had to throw at him. He would face it head-on.

He and Javier were entering the manor when a sudden alert came through. He was used to randomly seeing them but this one was different. Instead of its usual blue or red color, it was purple.

Ding!

[You have been selected to carry out three major ‘canon event’ tasks. Denial of participation costs 179 RP points but a successful completion rewards you x100 your current points. Would you like to participate?]

“What’s this? So suddenly?” Lloyd muttered under his breath. No, the system had always been random. He was used to expecting the unexpected. He glanced over his current RP points and laughed. He had exactly 179 points. If he were to reject the offer he would be left with zero but if he were to accept and complete it…179 multiplied by 100 would be, what, 179000 points? Whoa. He’d be able to do so much with that amount.

Still, he needed to make the best decision. He didn’t have much and couldn’t risk it all for some PR points. Or could he?

“Can’t I at least know what the three tasks are?” Lloyd asked curiously.

Ding!

[Nope! Haha.]

He frowned, “Tsk, I should’ve known…”

“Master Lloyd, is everything alright?” Javier, who was holding the door open, asked. Mild concern was painted over his striking features. Though if anyone else saw his knight, they wouldn’t know any better. He and Javier had been around each other so much so that he could, without fault, read him like the back of his hand.

He didn’t want to explain himself so he shrugged, “Yup, let's get going. Dinner’s getting cold.” Lloyd prompted himself to decide after eating. A full stomach made for better decisions, no? That’s what he said but a voice in the back of his head kept nagging at him. He took in a deep breath and opened the message box again, forcefully pressing ‘Accept’.

Ding!

[Talk about having no self-control! (Laughs) – Anyway, your side quest journey has begun!]

This was it! Lloyd continued walking as the messages kept popping up. The waning light of the sun fully disappeared as he entered the manor. The door shut with a force behind him.

Ding!

[RP System is being updated. You can now earn RP points by correctly following the given steps. Failure to do so will result in ‘???’]

Lloyd nodded, urging the system to continue.

Ding!

[Current RP Total: 179]

That was the last message he saw standing up.

Lloyd’s surroundings turned blurry as he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Both his arms and legs turned to jelly, heavy almost. His vision tunneled and his eyes threatened to close shut on him. Shit! He shouldn’t have trusted that fucking system!

His breaths came out ragged, Lloyd didn’t know when it had become nearly impossible to breathe. Shit shit shit! Speaking took extra strength, and his voice threatened to crack but he forced words to come out, “Javier...” His whisper went unheard as his bodyguard also crashed next to him. Or at least it sounded like he did. Lloyd couldn’t even crack his neck to the side to reassure himself.

If his knight had spoken back to him, he didn’t hear. He could barely hear his own heart throbbing in his chest. Unconsciousness took over his body as a terrible headache throbbed its way into his head. ‘Is this how I die? No way.’

One final notice came through before he passed out. Barely audible.

Ding!

[Good luck Lloyd. You’ll need it.]

Lloyd was ready for whatever life had to throw at him, right?!

Lloyd awoke in his bed with a jolt, his bedroom looking the same, nothing out of the ordinary. Birds chirped outside as the sun shone through his window.

Had everything been a realistic dream? His throat was a bit dry but aside from that he patted himself down, and he felt pretty damn alive. In fact– he felt light. Too light actually…

He instinctively called out for Javier. His voice sounded foreign to his ears but that wasn’t what concerned him the most. His knight, his most trusted person, was nowhere in sight.

Whatever, maybe he was taking a shit or something. Lloyd shook his head, he wasn’t some baby that needed his knight after a stupid nightmare. He wasn’t…

He leaned back into his pillows but something still didn’t sit well with him. Lloyd’s eyes widened as he finally felt it. His chest wasn’t heavy. It was very very light.

Always, his summons would sleep right on top of his chest. Always. Ppodong had started that trend and the rest of the summons followed suit. Lloyd gritted his teeth the first few times they did so but quickly accepted his fate. His user manual said to ‘treat them with kindness’ anyway.

“Guys? Are you playing hide and seek?” Lloyd began patting around the bed and finally looked down at his hands and began chuckling nervously. “Did I shrink overnight or something? Haha, this must be a joke.” His hands seemed to belong to those of a kid. A small fucking kid.

Something was wrong.

He rushed to the nearest mirror he could find and gasped. Staring right back at him was the ugliest fucking kid he had ever seen. “My god…” Okay, maybe the kid wasn’t the ugly one, but the facial expression he was making made him pretty fucking horrid.

He pinched at his cheeks, full of baby fat, and groaned at the pain. He wasn’t dreaming, this was the real deal. Lloyd’s mind ran. It began filling to the brim with theories.

The system's final words rang in his head, ‘Good luck Lloyd. You’ll need it.’

“By ‘good luck’, is this what you meant?!” Lloyd nearly pulled his hair out as he screamed, “GAH! DAMN YOU SYSTEM!”

The family’s physician burst through his bedroom door at his screams. Lloyd nearly gave himself whiplash as he turned to face him. The physician also looked younger, his hair still brown with only a few grays. A white coat hung from his shoulders and a smile bloomed over his stressed-ridden face. What was his name again? Damn, Lloyd couldn’t remember for the life of him.

“I thought my ears were deceiving me! Young Master Lloyd, you’re finally awake! I’ll be right back with the baron and baroness so get back in bed!”

And with that the physician left, leaving Lloyd to his thoughts again. Seriously, what was his name?!

“Did he say ‘Finally awake’?! Where is Javier?! Just what the hell is going on?! Hey stupid system! Mind filling me in?!” He dragged himself back to his bed and lay there.

Ding!

[You have been sent back in time to complete three major ‘canon event’ tasks for the recompense of 179000 RP points. Complete all tasks to successfully return to the present!]

“WHAT?!” Lloyd fell out of his bed, just what the hell had he gotten himself into?!

He took in a deep breath and analyzed the situation. Ignoring the whole 'time travel' thing, all he had to do was complete three easy tasks. Right. No biggie. “Alright! I have no time to waste. Let’s see, how hard can these tasks be…?”

Ding!

[First canon event: Destroy Javier’s precious wooden sword and maniacally laugh in his face!]

He dragged his hands down his face, “Shit.”

Lloyd didn’t even have enough time to process what his parents started saying once they frantically entered the room. Even as they hugged him tight, all he could think of was Javier. Javier, Javier, and Javier.

Were the three ‘canon events’ just Lloyd tormenting Javier three separate times? His chest tightened at that thought. Hopefully, he was wrong.

His parents left once they saw his complexion better. They were busy during this time of the year and Lloyd was thankful for that. He needed time to process, plan, and execute.

But this damn physician wouldn’t leave him alone.

“You heard what they said, right Young Master?” The physician asked for the millionth time. Lloyd couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Yes, I heard them loud and clear.”

Little kids are stupid. The Original Lloyd surely would’ve drowned if it wasn’t for Javier’s rescue. What made a little kid who couldn’t even swim jump into a large body of water? Delusion maybe?

The physician still looked somewhat skeptical and Lloyd huffed, “I promise I won’t go anywhere near water.” Lloyd reassured. Even though he wasn’t the idiot who couldn’t swim, he still swallowed his non-existent pride and made empty promises.

"And?" The physician raised an eyebrow.

Lloyd sighed in a defeated tone, "And I'll thank Javier." It was the least he could do for the physician as he had nurtured him back to health.

The physician hummed, “Good.” He turned his back to Lloyd and began packing his medical stuff.

Fucking finally!

Ding!

[Good boy!]

Lloyd whispered, “Oh shut up.”

It was all the damn system's fault for not explaining things properly.

Ding!

[I just wanted to remind you that there’s a time limit on this task but, (sigh), it seems as if you want me to ‘shut up’.]

“I apologize. Please continue.”

Ding!

[Every task has a time limit. This one has a 48-hour limit. You were asleep for 28 hours. Do the math.]

48 minus 28 was 20. In other words, he had less than a day…

Lloyd swatted at the blue floating square in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?!”

Ding!

[I tried to but you were asleep!]

As if that were a good enough reason. First things first, he needed to find Javier. To make sure his stupid face was okay. Then his wooden sword and then– and then…

The door to his room slightly opened and someone peeked through. The action was done very discreetly but Lloyd still caught it. He dryly swallowed. Never mind, there was no need to look for the boy. It seemed as if Javier had come to him.

[menlove]

i always say i'm gonna finish a fic entirely before posting it but then my obsessive need for feedback and validation gets me

[justapastetic-humanbeing]

Unpopular (?) opinion but they were the main couple to me

(more in tags)

[souenkun]

Been thinking for sometime after spending my days mostly resting in bed and reading fics, but... the swsh fandom really does have one of the best ao3 writers for me :o

[outtoshatter]

Sacrifice

The sacrifice was beautiful this year, stretched out alone and bare on the altar. His skin was honey gold in the bright midday sun, eyes heavy lidded but gleaming as he watched Nick’s approach from the woods. There were symbols painted with dripping berry juice on his chest and hips; his lips were red with it. Nick leaned over him when he reached the altar, bracing his clawed hands on either side of his head. His stained lips curved up in a sleepy smile before he stretched against the warm stone, lifting his hands to cup Nick’s face. “I thought you would be late this year.” “Never, my love.” He dipped his head to taste the berry juice on his mouth, the bright, greenish flavor of Lark just under it. “I am surprised they haven’t started to suspect you of being in league with the devil.” He traced his bottom lip with his tongue and gently sucked it between his sharp teeth to nibble. “They forget by morning.” Lark dug his fingers into his hair, dragging him closer before drawing his fingertips along the curve of his horns. His eyes fluttered. “If you’re sure,” he murmured, sinking into his embrace. Their mouths met with a sweet, melting sort of heat, the type that hellfire couldn’t possibly match. Lark’s warm, living flesh dented where Nick gripped him. His blood was hot and electrified on his tongue, his gasping breaths like music in his ears. Nick growled and gasped in equal measures, content to let him do whatever he wanted with him, so long as he was touching him. Lark held him close, raking his nails along his horns, biting his mouth until he bled, and greedily licking up the spill of blood. Nick didn’t need a sacrifice. He just needed Lark.

Also on ao3!

[minecraftbookshelf]

Important Housekeeping Announcement for the AU In Which All The Marriages Are Arranged

Honestly I'm structuring this more as a letter because I'm a bit emotional about this entire situation.

With the current state of AI scraping the internet and stealing art and stories right and left, I have locked my AO3 to AO3 users only.

Yes, AO3 has already been scraped, but chances are high they will continue scraping and any level of protection available is something I want to take advantage of. I'd been putting it off because I had over 100 works and that was just...a lot. But I figured out how to lock them all at once so that's done now.

Given The State of Things, I honestly don't really trust that tumblr also will not/has not already been scraped so the chances not zero that I am not going to post the full fics on here, just links to the AO3 posts. I will keep posting snippets on here bc i crave validation, but the actual, full form fics themselves might be just on AO3. I really don’t know.

I hate doing this because I really want to keep my stories as accessible to as many people as possible and some of my earliest fandom memories are of so many fics I was following and loved disappearing, either deleted or friend locked, as Livejournal went dark in the aftermath of Strikethrough.

I really do encourage everyone who doesn't have an AO3 account to get one if you can. It is invite only but the waiting list does move at a fairly decent pace and if you know someone who does have an account already they might still have invites they can give you.

I've been on AO3 for a long time and am perfectly willing to answer any questions at all, about functionality or the controversies surrounding it. Both my DMs and my askbox (here and my main) are open, including for anonymous messages (though sending an anon message is risky because I am incredibly adhd and sometimes it takes me a bit to actually answer asks and you won't get an alert when I answer an anonymous one you sent, if you have a question you don't want your name on publicly, you can send a dm or just tell me in the ask you would rather stay anonymous and i can make a fresh post without your url on it or answer the ask privately as you are comfortable with.)

I know the mcyt fan community in general skews young, though I'm not sure about the demographics of my little corner here specifically, I myself am ~30 (which is still young in fandom in general) and I have seen destruction of fandom spaces before. We have survived it, we will continue to, but some things; art, fic, original stories, will be lost forever. AO3 is one of if not the most secure place to share your fic. It is an archive designed to last.

I'm getting rambly so I'll sign off here, thanks for reading.

[truestfeeiing]

remember (i)

near/mello•gen•assisted living, angst, post-kira au

---

Nearly two decades after the Kira's death and L’s public retirement, no one remembers Near.

It was just a hazard of his work, or maybe it was a hazard of his upbringing, or he was just born to be forgotten. That's what Wammy’s raised him on; he could take it back then, he takes it now.

He doesn't mind. He doesn't worry about anything. He has enough money to live another three lifetimes just like this.

His day follows the exact same schedule:

At seven in the morning, the nurse wakes him because he hates the sound of an alarm. She dresses him in the same white clothes; he hasn't grown an inch since then, since coming out of that dark cave of screens and keyboards, blinking in the sunlight— there's a warehouse, painted yellow— yellow like—

He's aware he's screaming, he doesn't stop. He's in a safe place. He's in a safe place where he can get away with anything, like screaming at working professionals and strangers and visitors, they're never who he wants to see.

“Nathan,” the nurse reaches out for his shoulder and he swats it away.

“I'm sorry,” he says, just as abruptly.

“Let's eat breakfast,” she says, her smile warm. She says ‘let's,’ but Near always eats alone in his quiet corner of the cafeteria.

At seven fifteen, he eats breakfast. One cup of oatmeal, slightly undercooked. There's cinnamon sprinkled in it and Near wants to praise the person who came up with the idea. Thirteen blueberries, all the color of a sullen bruise. Today he bites into one instead of crushing it in his mouth, he's not sure why. It's on the tart side, stinging his tongue and his lip where the dried skin split. The nurse takes out a tiny jar of Vaseline and offers it to Near. He considers it while peeling them even more, then decides he likes that it hurts.

As the last part of breakfast, he takes his first round of medications, pills and syrups and powders. They water him with them in the hopes some soak through.

At seven forty he brushes his teeth and does his skincare routine. The nurse watches, because the facility he lives in is nice— nice enough for the bathrooms to have glass mirrors and porcelain sinks and beautiful big windows to fly away through. The pictures the windows show are so pretty they're unreal.

She gets the spots behind the ears that he misses, but not before asking permission.

By eight, he’s left alone to tend his garden of memories, either lying in bed or at his desk with a blank stack of papers. Most days now, nothing sprouts. The roots are slumbering. He digs with his metaphorical rake, he stabs— deeper, he tries to wake them up before he can get scared of what will— nothing today, either. His breath of relief clouds the window.

They rescue him at ten for physical therapy. He walks circles in the yard with his cane, getting nowhere. It's colder today, so he gets to use his walker. The autumn air bites him on the nose and it reminds him of England; how far does one stream of wind travel before it's mixed in with others? Once it's mixed in, is it still there, or did it become something new?

He's supposed to get free time at eleven, but today he gets a knock on his door.

[robotic-rin]

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Relationship: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14,000

Summary: Ford hated to say he was struggling to keep up the pace on the portal, but he was. Between working himself to exhaustion and reckoning with unresolved post-karaoke night feelings, how could anyone expect him to focus on writing equations? Noticing his distraction, his enigmatic muse offers to help him out, but Bill only does favors for humans if he knows he’s going to get something out of it as well.

Or: Ford wants to be studied like a scientific experiment, Bill wants to be worshipped like a god.

Main Tags: Triangle Bill Cipher, Pre-Portal Incident (Gravity Falls), Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Praise Kink, Consensual Possession, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Degradation, Possessive Behavior, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Psychological Smut, Manipulative Bill Cipher

[suffarustuffaru]

i just. remembered again that i have a fembaru fic but also the premise is. Very Messed Up hah and also it was written before the canon genderbent au with its official genderbend names for everyone so its also outdated on top of that T^T i had like. Genderqueer subtext going on too. but i also wrote this fic like almost two years ago and havent touched it in forever so im unsure if i should go back to it…. o.o but i would love to finish it one day if only for my own satisfaction hah… i had a very detailed outline for ch 2 (its a twoshot) and several scenes written already anyway!! (and also i would probably update those names, make minor edits, etc etc hmm…)