#but i just know it's going to go against the current grain and i just don't want to open myself to the emboldened haters who comment

[aceredshirt13]

gang i have to share this P. G. Wodehouse quote with you all because ever since I found it I can't stop thinking about it. it's from a letter he wrote when he was 78 years old to his friend Guy Bolton (many thanks to P. G. Wodehouse: A Life in Letters)

I have been on the sick list myself, but am better now. Inflamed bladder or chill on the bladder or something, the symptoms being agony when I passed water, as the expression is. It brought back the brave old days when I used to get clap.

he really said "yeah the pain from my bladder issue reminds of the days when I used to have so much sex I repeatedly got venereal disease"

[zorthania]

A piece about survivors guilt.

This comic isn't perfect. I started it back in October 2023, and every time I picked up my pen, I wept.

I bring this to you today, on 9/11, in hopes that you reflect on this day a little differently than how most Americans would. Let it move you to continue to boycott, protest and challenge your family, friends and colleagues. You have a bigger impact than you would believe.

Thank you for reading this with an open heart.

From the river to the sea...

I'd like to bring to attention the fact that the figures depicted above are a gross undercount of the actual number of deaths. I scoured the internet high and low to source my findings and not a single one could break down the devastation that befell an individual ethnicity. Instead, they lumped a bunch of ethnicities together, provided a general timeline, and called it a day, reinforcing the sheer scale of dehumanization propagated in the west. The only consistency between all the articles I looked up was the 4.5 to 4.7 million figure I've included above, and even then, they were all published by western media news outlets... the very same that have been so unreliable and complicit in the genocide of Palestinians today. So I have to take everything they say with a grain of salt.

We are not just numbers.

All of us have ambitions and desires and lives worth living.

With that said, this is your friendly reminder to:

Donate an e-sim

Donate to PCRF to provide Palestinian children aid

Donate to Pious Projects to provide woman with feminine hygiene kits

Donate to CareForGaza to provide food to displaced families in Gaza either through their Gofundme or their paypal

Donate to any of the vetted gofundme campaigns on GazaFunds to help Palestinians trying to flee Gaza.

And if you or someone you know sees or experiences a hate crime and can afford it, SUE. This is a more effective use of your money than most realise. The reason zionists act with impunity is because of the normalization of white supremacy and oppression of ethnic minorities. Challenging that in any capacity tells them that there are consequences to their actions and makes them think twice before engaging in hate crimes and helps raise all of us up against the systems currently in place that let them get away with it.

If you can't donate or spend any money, you can:

Do your daily clicks.

Boycott targeted companies on the BDS list (if you're like me and you don't want a single dollar to go towards anything supporting Israel right now, you can use Bdnaash to double check what products are okay to buy, but the BDS list is sufficient as it is a strategic attack and proven very effective thus far)

Flood your representatives emails and voicemails with how you won't be voting for them unless their politics align with an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

Attend a protest, be LOUD.

Challenge your circle of friends, family and colleagues with conversations about Palestine. (THIS IS THE MOST UNDERRATED AND MOST EFFECTIVE THING YOU CAN DO)

and if you're really up to, be disruptive in any capacity that you can think of towards major corporations benefiting from this onslaught. (i.e. halting military manufacturers from production + shipments, sticking boycott stickers on products at your market etc)

And finally, if your country wasn't mentioned in the above excerpt, it was no deliberate omission on my part and I encourage you to come forward and tell your story about the suffering of your people so that this may be a learning opportunity for everyone.

You are seen.

You are not alone.

Thank you again if you've read this far.

From the river to the sea...

[odoraful]

𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄

content: rafayel x gn!reader; reader is scared of the ocean but hasn't told rafayel about it; following the events of ch7 so minor spoilers!; established relationship; mild hurt but lots of comfort; raf being patient and understanding <3; 1.2k words

a/n: listening recommendation for when you’re reading is zora's domain (night) from botw ⛲️ the soothing water level music really helped me get in the feel for writing this piece hehe

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You fully intended on telling him. Ever since the battle on Hat Island—when you were swept deep beneath the currents, breath slowly leaving you before Rafayel pulled you to the surface—the very thought of being near the ocean made your chest tighten. However, with the sparkle in his eyes each time he counted down the days before your beach getaway, you kept pushing bringing the topic up later and later. He was just so excited about going, you couldn’t possibly bring his mood down. This was also one of the few times he was keen on planning in advance. Besides, how silly was it that a hunter like yourself was scared of water? So, you kept quiet about your fears, consoling yourself that you’d get away with just sitting on the sand, as far from the ocean as possible.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going into the water at a beach?” Rafayel asked.

You lowered your novel, peering at him from above the top edge of the book. He was standing directly in front of you—hands on his hips and a pout on his face.

“You can go in without me. I think I’ll just sit back here and get some reading done.”

You tried to keep your voice as casual as you could.

“Puh-lease,” he enunciated, “You can read anywhere, but the ocean is only ever in one spot!”

Emphasising his point, he gestured wide towards the crystalline blue before the two of you. Though he was likely showcasing the brilliance of the scene, when you gazed out at the endless expanse of water, the sight left you queasy.

You covered up your uneasiness with a light laugh.

“I might join you a little later. You go first.”

Rafayel quirked a brow as you lifted you book up again, covering your eyes. It was unlike you to be so unenthusiastic on a date like this. Perhaps you just needed a little nudge.

You sensed Rafayel approaching your side, and you were suddenly hoisted from the ground. The movement made your book tumble from your hands, fortunately landing on the beach towel rather than the sand. He scooped you up into his arms, flushed against his chest. His skin was warm from basking in the sun as one hand wrapped against your back and the other below your knees. You cried out his name in surprise, staring up at the mischievous smirk on his face. Your stomach dropped realising exactly what he was about to do.

Fear seized you as he carried you closer to the water, just where the waves met the shore. Everything Rafayel was saying as you were in his arms faded away with the rapid beating of your heart in your ears.

Rafayel halted immediately as he felt you unexpectedly tense up. Looking down, he saw your eyes scrunched closed, hands balled up close to your chest. The smile on his face fell. Overwhelmed with concern, he turned you away from the water, cradling you close in his arms. Reassurances and apologies were cooed softly into your ear (Shh I’m here. Everything will be okay, I’m really sorry), releasing you from that momentary numbness.

“Are you feeling better?”

Moving to sit beside you, he brushed any errant hair strands away from your face. You nod, staring down at your lap. Shame bubbled inside you. Your silence twisted Rafayel’s heart.

“You should have told me you didn’t like the water.”

“I know… it’s just that you were so excited. I didn’t want to ruin this day," you admitted. You shuffled your feet in the sand, feeling the grains beneath your toes. “I know the ocean means a lot to you.”

Rafayel leaned forward, trying to meet your eyes. “But it’s no good if you’re not having any fun either.”

Instinctively, you turned to meet his gaze. Violet eyes brimmed with compassion. The tension slowly eased from your body like waves receding from the shoreline.

“I feel like such a villain almost throwing you into the water,” Rafayel added with a shake of his head.

The corners of you lips twitched, your spirits returning to you at his half-joke.

“It was a little evil of you,” you admitted with a soft chuckle.

Hearing you laugh was a victory for him.

“Will you let me have my redemption arc then?”

Your brows furrowed, wondering what imaginative thing your boyfriend had thought of.

“We can work on your fear together if you’re willing to,” he offered. “I won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, you can trust me.”

You had been so worried up until that point that he would be offended by your feelings. However, though the artist may be quick to tease you, the very last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Besides, who better than a Lemurian himself to help you adjust to the ocean?

As expected, it took small steps. Rafayel never let go of your hand during the process. First, you simply watched the water together, getting used to the rich scent of salt. The scent that had once had been suffocating now filled your lungs and refreshed your airways as Rafayel wove tales of a kingdom below the sea. He also spouted a surprising number of facts about sea animals (He kept commenting on the silly smile on your face as he spoke. You couldn’t help but notice that many of these ‘facts’ he seemed to speak anecdotally about).

Then, he gently led you to the water—just until the waves caressed his and your ankles. You gasped at the coldness, body locking in place. Your mind couldn’t help but thrust itself back to being pulled beneath the currents—the icy water numbing you. Rafayel’s hand was your anchor to reality. Warm and assuring, he squeezed your hand. A wordless signal. I’m here for you, you’re safe. Although you were probably not ready to swim in it just yet, you were confident enough to let the foamy waves lap around your calves. The water tickled your skin, playful in their greeting. It reminded you of a certain someone.

You ended the day by collecting shells along the sand. Rafayel described them as little gifts the ocean was bringing you to say goodbye. Careful inspection was required for each shell before he placed them in your hands. You were left with a handful of shells in a myriad of unique shapes and colours. “These would make pretty pendants,” you said, holding them up to the light. He hummed in agreement, already thinking about all the different jewellery pieces he could create that would look perfect on you.

The sun hugged the horizon, its glow illuminating the water. The sea turned into a glittering spectacle like thousands of rhinestones. Your jaw dropped at the sight. Too mesmerised by the landscape, you didn’t notice Rafayel admiring your expression. Whilst the view was magical, it was nothing compared to seeing the pure wonder in your eyes. Maybe next time, he would offer to take you to watch the sun rise on the beach as well.

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[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 3

M!troll x f!reader 1.7k words, still currently sfw and building up anything else

Part 1 | Part 2

It’s been a few days with your new husband and while he knows roughly nothing about humans it sure isn’t going to stop him from trying to take care you when you don’t feel well. Even if you wished he’d just leave you alone.

————

Every morning since then you woke up to Zen’jan making breakfast for the two of you, fish or other meat always with any bones removed and fruit already peeled and chopped for you. He was often gone for most of the day, leaving you to explore the city on your own or with Bira in tow. Every night when he returned he cooked dinner for you, or occasionally brought back food from a nearby tavern for the two of you.

He also had made no attempt to touch you since he washed your arms and face that first morning, which was a relief, going so far as to even make sure his hands never brushed yours when handing you things. Essentially, the two of you lead two separate lives, connected only by small talk over breakfast and dinner.

During the week you noticed new little things appearing around: snacks and treats left out for you when he left of the day, a bracelet placed on the bedside table by you, fancy soaps and lotions in the bathroom. Zen’jan never mentioned any of it, but you noticed his face light up for a brief moment when he saw you wearing the bracelet.

You woke that morning in pain, your joints aching and a familiar cramping low in your belly. Forcing yourself to your feet, you staggered to the bathroom to situate yourself and then returned to bed and yanked the blankets over your head.

“What is the matter?” you did not hear him approach, but you tugged the blanket down to see Zen’jan sitting cross legged next to the bed and watching you closely.

“Nothing” you snapped, “Just time for my period”.

Zen’jan did not say anything at first, he just watched you with his head tilted slightly, “I do not know know the translation for that, sorry”.

You often forgot human common was not his first language, or even his second or third. He spoke the troll language, orcish, the minotaur language, and human common. Most humans you knew only spoke the common, maybe an ambassador might speak some dwarven or a bit of elvish, but you had never heard of someone in your kingdom knowing four languages.

“It’s fine. I’m fine”.

“No, something is wrong. Let me help you” he insisted.

“Fine. Get me a hot water bottle and something to help with pain”.

Zen’jan practically leapt up and began digging through the cabinets, grabbing the bag of grains he often used to make breakfast and sitting next to the lit hearth before calling that he would be back as quick as possible while he bolted out the door.

Once again you were alone. Alone, and in pain. You tried to doze off, but any time you finally got comfy another wave of cramps would disturb you, making you toss and turn endlessly.

When he finally returned you heard him clinking about, mixing things from the sounds of it.

“Here” once more he was at your bedside without you ever hearing footsteps. You hated how quietly he moved.

He handed you a cup of bitter smelling, thin, white liquid that tasted even worse than it smelled. You choked it back and he handed you a second cup, this time some sort of tea.

“That will help with any pain, and the tea is just for comfort. My mom used to make it for me when I was little and did not feel well”.

“Thanks” you muttered.

“And here, should be nice and warm now” he handed you the bag of grain that had been sitting by the hearth.

The warmth of it felt good against your sore muscles, you curled around it laying on your side.

“Will you talk to me now? Tell me what is wrong?” Zen’jan asked.

“I’m fine. Thank you”.

He was close to you, much closer than he had been all week. He was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the bed, his arms folded on the edge of the bed and resting his head on them. Like this his face was very close to yours, the tips of his tusks nearly touching you.

“Don’t you have things to do?” you asked him.

“I do, but you are in pain, I am not just leaving you here alone all day. Especially since you will not tell me what is wrong”.

“I told you what’s wrong”.

“Yes, but I do not know what that means though, this is not my first language. I do not always understand everything you say”.

“Period. Monthly bleeding. Cycle. Menstrual! Whatever you want to call it! That’s all!” you barked at him.

He held your gaze, his brows knitted together still trying to follow what you said.

“You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” you asked, exasperated.

“I am sorry, but no”.

“Troll women, they don’t bleed like once a month? No cramps? Nothing?”

“No? Is that normal for humans?”

“Yeah! Either you’re pregnant, or dealing with this once a month!”

“Oh” he said.

“So sorry if I’m in a bad mood, but I’m in pain and currently bleeding out of my vagina, so I think I’m allowed to be grumpy” You were pretty sure he still had very little idea of what you were talking about, but you were hardly in the mood to give a full biology lesson.

“What can I do to make you comfortable?” he asked.

“You’ve already done it, it’s fine. You got me something warm and pain medicine. You’ve done your acts of service, you can go now”.

“I am still staying here with you. You may as well tell me how I can help” he insisted.

You were annoyed. While you were thankful for the medicine and makeshift hot water bottle, what you really wanted was to be back at your family’s manor. Your maids taking care of you, cozy with a hot water bottle that would be swapped as needed, favorite foods and treats brought to you, medicine brought to you, just pampered while you waited it out.

“Fine, help keep me distracted while the medicine kicks in” you snapped at him.

“Can I tell you about where trolls come from then?”

“Sure”

That seemed to perk him up a bit. Once more you had no idea why you felt the need to comfort him or indulge him, but he had been looking at you so sadly and worried.

“Before there was anything else, there was the Nothingness” he began, “The potential of everything that would ever exist was there, but it needed to be made. First there was Owa, the spirit of the worlds. She created the land and seas and all the plants and she was happy for a time, but she grew lonely and cried.

“From her tears grew Oja, her sister. Oja created the animals and for a time the sisters were happy. But they grew lonely again with only having each other. The same way Owa’s tears made Oja, their tears together made the first troll, Reli. Owa and Oja loved Reli, they watched her grow and change in a way that they did not, but living and growing means dying one day.

“When Reli died their grief pulled her spirit back from the Nothingness, and no longer bound to the world she stood as their equal. She could not walk the earth with them anymore, so instead she made herself a new home, a realm within the Nothingness where a once mortal spirit could dwell.

“Owa and Oja created more trolls, who grew and multiplied, but as mortal life grew on the planet it became harder for the gods to step foot here, the planet was no longer for them.

“Now the gods watch over us from the Nothingness, sometimes visiting or appearing when they can. And Reli carries us to her realm when our time here is done. She is the Great Mother of us all, and welcomes us home”.

“So there are three troll gods then?” you asked.

“Owa, Oja, and Reli are the most powerful, but there are many more. Hundreds probably, but many are gods of little things, or gods of certain regions”.

“Huh”

“What about humans? Where did humans come from?” he asked.

“The Light created everything, it’s always existed, it will always exist. It banishes the shadows and protects from the darkness” you answered.

“And are shadows and darkness such a bad thing?”

“Yes! Of course they are! The Light is hope, healing, life, protection! Everything the shadows want to destroy! The darkness wants to destroy and consume all it can! The Light is the only thing keeping it at bay!” you snarled at him.

“I was only curious” he muttered, a bit of a wounded tone seeping into his voice, “I do not know much about human culture or beliefs, and I want to learn more about about my wife”

Wife. The word made your skin crawl a bit when he said it. It had only come up a few times, him referring to you as his wife, and while he was entirely correct it still felt uncomfortable.

“Maybe one day you would like to come with me to visit the shrines? Just to see?” he asked. “And I would like to learn more about your Light, whenever you are feeling up to it”.

You fidgeted uncomfortably at the idea. There was nothing inherently against visiting the shrines of other gods, but it still felt a bit sacrilegious to you.

Zen’jan was watching you expectantly, his head still resting on his arms, again doing a fantastic job of looking rather small for a man of his stature.

“Fine, when I’m feeling better I’ll go with you, but just for a quick look around!”

He smiled, his facial expression softening and relaxing considerably, “Thank you, I do not want to be a mystery to you, or for you to be a mystery to me” and extended out a hand to you, which you ignored.

It probably would not be the worst thing to learn a bit about trolls or your husband.

Part 4

[pix-writes]

Do you think Stan and Ford care for appearances? And do you think they have a certain type or is something they don't think much? Love your writing btw 🥹

A/N: thank you! I'm glad you like it 😊

Well, thinking about the pines twins they have certainly had rough lives and been thrust into environments/situations where taking care of themselves and their appearances aren't top priority, so I think especially at their current age, they're not likely to be judgemental on appearances when it comes to a prospective partner (plus ford and stan canonically have tattoos/scars they're embarrassed or insecure about!)

Stanford I think especially so, in the sense that appearance to him is less of an issue to him than the contents of your brain, any quirks of yours filed away as fascinating eccentricities of a person of remark. He knows full well what it's like for people to judge you based on the surface, since many will freak out over his six fingers and whilst curious about you, will also be sensitive to insecurities you may have 🥹

I think Ford would want someone who is at least a little orderly like he is, his environment can be quite scattered with papers and experiments, sure, but he has had to take care of himself and his appearance jumping dimensions, so he believes you can do it if he does :) (says the man who lights his face on fire instead of shaving cause it's 'faster' 😅 and eats nutrition pills instead of lunch - you can teach him a thing or two as well!)

Stanley on the other hand does often jokes around about lots of things to do with general appearances, including ribbing dipper and mabel, though he's very quick to notice when someone is feeling upset/insecure or potentially angry to not take it as a joke or might find it cutting (it's just that most of the people he does this to are people he wants to anger on purpose lol 😂 thinking of the dunk tank). But you're not a person to scam, so I feel he'd be sensitive to that, underneath the exterior he's fairly sensitive himself and as we've seen with dipper, he wants him to be tough, not just physically but to have a thick skin when it comes to being judged by others, you can't stop doing things in life just cause others wanna bring you down! That's why he does tease sometimes and it can seem mean from the outside, but he simply wants you to be stronger than you already are.

Stanley has some pretty 'trashy' tastes we could say, but takes care of his appearance as mr mystery, so I think he'd enjoy being with someone who also likes to dress up a bit to go out, but if you stay at home all day and don't put on a pair of pants, it'd be incredibly hypocritical for him to judge. And you can be gross together which is way better than being gross alone (questionable).

I hc that they'd both be interested in someone curvy/plus sized cause I like that idea in particular 1) bc I'm fat 2) bc in the eras they grew up in 'skinny' was all the rage, so I like to think of them of going against the grain and liking a more classic figure/not caring about toxic beauty standards. But I also think that they truly have no particular preference! Both of the twins like vintage styles, having grown up in the 50/60s and young adults in the 70/80s.

But yes, in summary TL;DR, the pines twins don't give many fucks to appearances, as long as you're taking care of yourself to the best of your ability, it's actions and personality that attract them more 💕

[siren-nate]

The way I tend to characterize the Alan-created stick figures is that his mindset in the moment he made them defines who they are, even if their personalities and habits can change over their years of existence.

Victim was made solely to be tormented in an early 00s style violent stick figure animation. This means he views everything in terms of how much of a threat it is to him, and is singularly focused on taking revenge on his tormentor. If he's not the "victim", he's not really anything - he has no identity. He may or may not already know that Alan's a changed person who now treats his creations with kindness, but either way, it wouldn't stop him from seeking out revenge.

The Chosen One was made to be powerful, first and foremost, because the Animator wanted a challenge. That's why it's in his nature to rebel, to break the status quo, to disrupt. It doesn't mean he's evil, just that he tends to go against the grain of the current situation. At first it means he's seeking to break the Animator's control of the computer, then he says "screw destiny" by befriending the one made solely to destroy him, then they cause more chaos across the internet because it's in their nature. But the longer he stays in that, the more he thinks he needs to change, that this isn't right - because, again, he was never made to be evil, just powerful and disruptive.

That's why the Dark Lord is so fucked: he was made as a weapon. Just to destroy. His only reason for coming into existence was because the Animator needed the Chosen One dealt with. He doesn't reject the status quo, he follows it, no matter who's telling him what it is - first it's the Animator, then it's Chosen, his only friend. Whereas Chosen starts to have second thoughts, it's not in Dark's nature to do so - only to improve, to polish the violence and destruction to an absolute mirror sheen, all to impress the one person he cares about. When Chosen turns on him and the Animator is still his enemy, I think the only reason Dark is still causing destruction is because that's literally all he's ever done. It's all he knows. He can't imagine anything outside that because he has no experience with anything else.

And that's why, from a symbolic standpoint, the Second Coming is his greatest threat and the one to defeat him. She's his antithesis. Made years after everything with Chosen and Dark was over and done with, made just because the Animator was doing what he loved: creating. And unlike with Victim, she was probably intended to do more than suffer and die for black comedy.

Second's core ability is creating, no matter what environment she's in - she uses the pencil in the main series to effortlessly make living beings or tools, constantly crafts and comes up with ideas in the Minecraft series, and learns the rules of the universes around her to use them to her benefit in the Education series. Dark only knows destruction. Second only knows creation. Even after she seemingly wins in IV, she tosses the ray gun aside and starts making things now that she has free reign of the computer - she only seeks to destroy so long as there's a threat to herself or what she cares about.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Close Encounters Of The Corn Kind

Rating: Teen, for marijuana use where it's legal. Mature, for marijuana use where it's illegal. Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader Summary: Exploring a corn maze high out of your mind after eating an edible all by yourself, beautiful? Or... you and Dieter are high and end up separated in a corn maze. He must do whatever he can do to save his princess. Warnings: Dieter's POV, stoned paranoia, Dieter calls reader princess, panic but in a corny way, corn, corn, and more corn. Words: 1,400

A/N: Written for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's Fall Challange. I know Javier Pena x bonfire won my poll and I promise that will be posted but woooo boy, once I started writing this I couldn't stop. I happen to find it quite a-maze-ing!

Masterlist

🌽🌽🌽🌽

Corn, corn, corn. So much corn. It’s everywhere. The stalks move in the evening breeze, secrets whispering out with each sway taunting him as he ventures deeper into the maze. It surrounds him. He jumps overwhelmed by fear with every brush of a dry leaf against his skin. He looks down at his arm, he’s safe, he hasn’t turned to corn yet. You’re still out there somewhere lost in the labyrinth of grain, he must rescue you. 

A couple wrong turns here and there and now he’s lost. Who knows how far away you are. A sea of corn now stretches between you. What if you’re both stuck here forever, wandering through the maize maze for eternity?

He shakes the thought from his head. No! He can’t think like that. He must continue. His princess needs him. 

A rustling sound comes from behind him. He whirls around, sliding on the muddy ground. His Croc slips, betraying him, but he catches his balance, nice try maze phantom. The mud, it’s another obstacle. He cannot fall, he has a mission, he has to save his princess.

Take a left? No, take a right. Left? Left as in left behind? He better go right. Right? Well, right might mean he’s asking for approval. 

He wishes he had a map. He wonders if that children's menu from Olive Garden he filled out last week might just hold the answer for this. He was able to connect the spaghetti to the meatball on his first attempt. Wait, is he the meatball? 

He doesn’t know what shape the maze is. What if it’s all an elaborate trap sent down from the aliens? Everyone knows that aliens love corn fields. Is he currently roaming a crop circle? He could very well be headed for the big red X where they’ll beam him up. Have they already captured you? 

“PRINCESS?!” he shouts, turning down another corn concourse. Corncourse, that’s a funny word, maybe he can talk to someone at Merriam-Webster about adding it to the dictionary. That is–if he escapes out of here. “PRINCESS?!”

No answer, only a murder of cawing crows laughing at his misfortune as the plume of them takes flight. They’re mocking him, laughing at his pathetic desperation. Maybe if he wishes hard enough he can sprout wings, lift off, swoop down and rescue you, then fly out of this place. Crazier things have happened… after all, he did win an Oscar. 

“Dieter?” your voice harkens him back to reality. He can just barely see the brown fuzz of his coat on you. Why didn’t he give you an orange security vest? Ah, but then you’d stick out amongst the corn and that’d make you more of a target for them. 

“Princess?! Is that you?” 

“Yeah…” you reply, your voice muffled by the wall of corn between.

“Baby! Are you okay?” He asks, his spine straightening, his heart skipping a beat.

“I’m like… really high,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear behind the corn barrier.

“I am too, but don’t fret Princess,” his voice drops with a heroic tone. “I will find you, all this corn be damned.” 

“Can’t you just… come through the row?” you ask, confusion tinging your voice.

He eyes the tan and green blades of stalks reaching out towards him like they’re ready to infect him, he refuses to become a corn person. 

“I’m sorry my love, that’s what they’d expect me to do, we must not cheat. Cheating would cause us to lose the maze, and we don’t want to lose the maze.” 

“Okay… so what do we–” 

CLANG! A loud noise reverberates from outside the maze. A sober mind would realize it’s just the ramp for the hayride trailer hitting the ground, but to Dieter it’s a warning shot.

“RUN!” he shouts, speeding away, stalks burring past him as he entangles himself farther into the mass mosaic of maize.

He’s left you, he knows this, but now it’s even more important for him to track you down. 

He turns a corner and freezes. A friendly face appears, wearing  a wide smile and a straw hat. 

“Hey! Sir! Hi, I–I can’t find my princess,” Dieter huffs, catching his breath. “Do you know where she is?” He holds his phone up, showing the kind looking stranger your photo that's set as his wallpaper. “She’s wearing my brown fuzzy jacket, I got it in Sundance.” 

The man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at Dieter’s phone.

“Sundance, you know, the place in Utah? You ever been?”

Still no answer.

“Dude, look,” Dieter pushes the phone closer to the man’s face. “Can you tell me if you’ve seen my princess?”

The man ignores every word he says, his eyes stay staring forward.

“Well, fine, fuck me I guess,” he mutters, backing away. “I’ll just leave you alone then, obviously you don’t want to help.”

He retreats from the straw hat man, shaking his head at how rude people can be.

He continues down another path.

Right turn. Blocked.

Left turn. Blocked again.

He must retrace his steps and attempt another thoroughfare. Crossing paths with the straw hat man again. 

“Ahh! We meet again,” Dieter says, shaking his head.

Silence still. 

“You know buddy!” He steps closer. “You’re really rude!” He jabs his finger into the man’s soft–very soft–chest, straw pokes out from under the man’s collar. 

“Oh, shit, sorry dude. DIdn’t realize you weren’t real,” Dieter says, sheepishly, grabbing his straw filled hand to shake an apology before heading down another path. 

He feels like he’s getting somewhere, this corn doesn’t look familiar. 

He can hear the crowd of the fall carnival get louder as he takes a left instead of right. He hasn’t been taken yet, he’s close! So close to freedom! Feet don’t fail him now, he can see The EXIT sign in all of its rusted and hand painted glory. And yet, a defeated whimper leaves his mouth, the corn barrier stands tall and intimidating, still holding him captive. If he can leave, he can find you help. Call in the reinforcements, find his princess. 

“Okay Dieter, okay, you gotta get outta here,” he says aloud to himself, pacing back and forth, yanking his hair, causing it to stand even more haphazardly. “Think Dieter! Think! Think!” he shouts. 

“Dieter?” 

Your voice on the other side of the corn! You’ve made it out! 

“Baby?! Y-you’re out?!” he asks in shock. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Dee, just really hun–”

Another CLANG echoes, he HAS to get out of here. He can’t leave you behind, not when he has the car keys. He hesitates for a moment, before charging through the corn stalks, if he becomes a corn person, then so be it. He HAS to be with you. He’s sure the poison isn’t instant.

He breaks through the corn wall and tumbles to the ground, snapped stalks litter the ground around him, causing quite a scene. He looks up, breathing a sigh of relief when his eyes meet yours. 

There you are standing right outside of the maze exit happily eating an apple cider donut. 

“Hi,” you smile, through a mouthful of crumbs.

“My princess,” he sighs, a wide, adoring grin spreading across his face. He pushes himself up, wincing slightly. He wishes he had a cape. He bets he’d look real cool right now with a cape billowing behind him as he stands amongst the conquered leaves and bits of broken stalks scattered around him.

“Welcome back, brave traveler,” you smile, offering him the donut.

“I made it,” he breathes, taking a bite of the sweet, cinnamon bread.

“Sir,” a stern voice catches Dieter’s attention. He turns to find a security guard eying him, face set in a firm, annoyed expression. “Looks like someone decided to make their own exit, huh?”

Dieter straightens his posture. “I’m sorry sir–there was a very urgent situation.”

The guard raises an eyebrow. “Urgent?”

“She was trapped,” Dieter says, gesturing towards you, his tone heroic again. “I had to save her!”

A laugh bursts from your mouth. “He got lost,” you explain, shaking your head. 

“Lost or not, you two need to leave,” the guard instructs, stepping aside.

“Right then,” Dieter nods. “Come, my princess, this maze has been conquered,” he bows. 

You roll your eyes and giggle, grabbing his hand as the two of you walk towards the exit. 

Dieter’s back where he belongs–with his princess and an inkling of pride, even if the guard trails closely behind.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heya! I have a request with your angst prompt list number 29 with Cooper!!

Just anything that comes to mind with it. Be creative and have fun, no pressure❤

More Alike Than You Know | Cooper Abbott x F!Reader

Warnings: DARK FIC: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Angst, Reader has been kidnapped, language, Pervy!Cooper, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Choking, Cooper is a sick little freak, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Over the clothes stuff, Drugging, Biting, Edging, Hair Pulling, Mentions of panic attacks, Mentions of fear,

Rating: E -  No Minors!

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request sweetheart! I think this is a clear key indicator of why the prompt should not be left up to me because I made this dark, angsty, and somewhat smutty????

If you would like to be tagged, please fill this out

Trust is a funny thing, how are you supposed to trust? How do you know when to trust, or if it’ll be worth the time? We are born trusting; Our life is in someone’s hands – we know no other feat except that. But when in our lives does it switch? When does the light go off in our minds? Is it the first time we feel betrayed, hurt, scared? Is it when we have promises shattered and hopes ripped apart? Or is it when we realize nothing truly matters in life – what exists at the end of the day? It sucks away the trust you have for the world, for the universe. Why do some of us trust too much? Are we afraid that if we don’t, everything we have will crumble? It’s a blessing and a curse to trust, especially with those who only mean harm from the get-go.

That’s how you ended up in your current position, tied to an old wooden chair that creaks with each squirm you let out. Ankles bound down to the grain, wrists falling not far behind. The wirey texture scratched at your skin, causing a burn to invade the area. Your breath rough against the slight chill of the basement. The shiver running down your spine made you feel sick, at any moment you felt like you were going to pass out. Maybe it was the fear of not knowing? Maybe it was the fact that you woke up here? Maybe it was the drugs currently running through your system, on their last legs to keep you bound and complacent. Your head lolls side to side as the fluorescent lights above you buzz with anticipation; A headache focused behind your eyes pounding with the sound. A simple groan releases from your mouth as you try to bring your focus in front of you, seeing a figure sitting in the desk chair to your left, back to you as they type away.

The clicking on the keys does nothing but make you hiss, eyes finally focusing back in as your mind clears – the fog subsiding. Taking a deep breath, you felt a pain ricochet through your shoulder blades that caused a gasp, jutting forward to bend over your knees. The sharpness of it causing you to lose your breath for a moment, struggling to regain it. Unlike anything you ever felt before, this deep-set blast made you question what could’ve caused it, what could relieve it. Trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill, you caught the figure to your left spinning around – their booted feet now facing you easily. Ragged exhales left your parted lips as you started to straighten out, feeling the release of the tension in your back – the crack exhaling all the trauma you faced. “I see you’re up now, hi sleepy head.” The voice rang out in an echo, your mind reeling as you tried to place it.

Letting your eyes focused on the room, you noticed every detail. The stark white walls bare with any semblance that someone lives here. The table against the wall to your right covered in plastic, metallic tools glinting under the bright lights. Across the concrete floor sat a thick blue tarp, stains of what you hoped was rust at your feet – gliding across the entirety of the left side. Your heart started to speed up as your eyes panned closer to the voice, seeing the Victorian era desk pushed against the corner of the room, the antique chair creaking as the figure leans back. The clean yet worn boots they wore were industrial it looked like; They had to work a manual labor job. The crisp denim jeans were clean of any residue or dust – even blood. A plain burgundy cotton shirt sat across their chest, tight in all the right places whilst being loose in others. From the neck down they looked like everyone else, you’d never expect this out of someone like that. It’s when your eyes landed on his face that you threw everything you knew out the window, throwing away everything that made you scared in that moment.

Gentle brown eyes watched you like a hawk – trying to evoke something in you to say you’re safe. It worked in a way, because you felt the fear lessen as you took in his facial features. The gentle tick under his eyes, the quirk of his lips, the soft stubbled grazing his jawline and upper lip. His hair the color of mocha, a few strands falling in front of his forehead like he had been adjusting it, the pomade no longer holding the professional shape. Every other white man you have ever known looked exactly like this; Wholesome, strong, prominent. They held importance in their everyday life, no wonder no one suspected him. It made your chest burn with undercover rage and worry as to why it was you in this position, what your purposes was, and where the actual fuck you were. Sliding your tongue across your teeth, you stared intently into his eyes, never losing a moment to back down.

“Why me?” It was a simple question that held so much behind it. Yet, it was a fully loaded question. The man pondered for a moment, brows creased as he contemplated your question. His right brow cocked slightly as he leaned his head to the right, taking in every angle of your face. A small chuckle released from his lips as he came to his full height, towering over you. “Why not you?” He didn’t blink for a moment, taking in your reaction as your brows went slack, finding what he said hard to comprehend. You were confused, and he found it endearing – cute even. A gentle smile creased across his bottom lip, slipping from one side to both in a second. Reaching forward, he ran the outside of his right first finger against your cheek, feeling how you shivered under the contact. The exhale he released was one of relief, contentment. How soft your skin was against the harsh interior of the room – now realizing it was a finished basement. You shouldn’t have liked his touch as much as you did – reveling in how warm it was against you. Reality set in quick, but not enough to contemplate what this is all for.

“I’m nothing, no one.” There was no hesitation in your voice as your words slipped out, like it was factual. It was bullshit, you are someone, you are important. It was the marketability that made you choose those words carefully. To this man, if you seemed like no one then maybe he would let you go. Shaking your head to push his touch away, you huffed as you struggled against your ties, gritting your teeth against the burn of the rope. “I-I don’t have cash, I’m sorry I don’t-“ you swallowed, thrashing slightly in your chair as you shook. It was a struggle to try and get your words out, finding it difficult to think coherently when your blood was rushing through your ears, your heart thumped in your stomach. As you tried to find your words to express what else he may have wanted to hear, the man held a finger up to you – silencing you as he shook his head. “I don’t want your things. I don’t need them.” It didn’t come out as a question nor a statement – but fact. He was so sure of himself, so sure of what he didn’t need from you, and that was terrifying.

Bile rose into the back of your throat, fear gnawing at your throat, threatening to spill over. Swallowing down the harsh lump wanting to make an appearance, you narrowed your gaze at the man, twisting your wrists behind your back to loosen the rope; Though it would not budge, you needed to try. “Then why?” It made no sense as to why he plucked you, out of everyone else he could’ve had, off the street. Was I walking home, or was I already home? The night prior was fuzzy, a black hole of mystery you were trying to break through – needing to know how he got you here in the first place. The man huffed as he walked closer to you, kneeling in front of your feet. The way the bright lights glinted off of his eyes, shimmering those golden flecks within, made your heart race – you knew it shouldn’t have. There was no denying how attractive this man was, but an utter fucking psychopath is all he would ever be.

Bringing his hand up to your face, the man caressed your cheek softly with his thumb again, sighing into the touch. “You were too perfect to let go,” he whispered, letting the pad of his thumb glide across your chapped lower lip. The way his pupils dilated when he said that made your stomach simmer, a pleasant ache wiping across the area. Seriously, right now? You cursed mentally to yourself, shamed that you were turned on in the moment. Nothing is sexy, nor exciting about being kidnapped and held against your will – but yet here you are, feeling your panties become soaked at the idea of what this man could do to you. You watched at his prominent nose twitched, his gaze slightly narrowing, his lip curling upwards. Mania laid dormant behind his eyes, threatening to spill over at the smallest of actions from you – it was then that everything made sense, as to who this was. Your breath got stuck in your lungs, refusing to release at the thought.

“You’re that guy, from the Lady Raven concert. Aren’t you?” You couldn’t believe it, all this time and only now did you make the connection. Your palms became waxy with sweat, chafing against the hemp rope as your body broke out in a cold sweat. The shiver in which ran through your body made you anxious, needing to get out of this chair and put a good distance between the two of you. Alas you could not, instead stuck to your chair, watching as his eyes grew darker. His smirk never faltered as he watched you with intent, trying to gauge what you were thinking – what was running through your mind. “Which guy?”  He asked, coyly.

“The Butcher.” You remembered what happened last month; The Lady Raven concert wound up being a giant trap to catch him. He kidnapped her, she escaped. He tried to kill his wife, he was arrested. He broke out of police custody and was on the run. It had been almost a month since that happened and yet – he was still perusing around. He was like a ghost, seemingly never existing after that whole debacle. And yet, even you questioned if you made the right call by saying that. Was it really him, could it really be him? He looked intrigued, curious as to how you made the connection, without him ever revealing it. “You think I’m capable of that?” He shot back with a smile, one that would put anyone else to ease. It was sweet, generous and kind – everything a charismatic serial killer aspired to be. He was unassuming, until you got too close. Shaking your head, you turned away from his grip to stare at his desk, trying to keep your emotions level. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

He seemed to have won this time, considering the grin that pasted itself onto his lip. A dark laugh seeped from his parted lips as he watched you, his grip on your face getting a bit stronger; Possessive but not enough to hurt you. It was enough to keep you in your place, to silently berate you if you even tried to do anything. Enough to show you the lack of control you had over the situation. You were trying to wrack your brain for his name, what the news had called him outside of The Butcher. It was on the tip of your tongue and yet, you lacked the capability at the moment to remember. C, it was a C. Carter. Cameron. Conner. Cooper. “Cooper. The news said your name.” A smug tone laced your words as your eyes met his; His cool was lost in that moment. That once calm demeanor he put on, the control over the situation was faltering as you said his name. You could see how his eyes grew wider, his smile tucking into a thin line. “You think we’re on a first name basis?”

Anger was prevalent through his words, the nice-guy act falling to the wayside. Pulling back from you with a blank stare, Cooper stood straight up, glaring down through his lashes at you. It all made so much sense now, he was hoping you didn’t know who he was. A triumphant snicker released from the back of your throat as you grinned, watching him. You were not going to back down, you weren’t going to give into him or what he wanted you to be. At the end of the day you are your own person, there was no fucking way you were letting him have the upper hand. Pissing him off as your goal, and by God you were going to do it. “Of course, no one would suspect you,” the words slipped out of your mouth before you could have thought otherwise. You didn’t purposely try to rile him up, it came naturally. Cooper’s gaze never faltered as he watched you, his face still blank, never letting you know his next move. “Typical trophy husband, savior to the town. God, how fucked up are you?”

Cooper began to move around you as you spoke, the last line made him stand directly behind you. Not being able to see him made you fearful, wondering what he could do to you if you did not know. Would this be the end, would everything just go black and you never have a chance to fight back? Bouncing your legs as you stared forward at the staircase, you felt your pulse thrumming against your neck, in your head, in your chest. "Your mind must be a horrible place.” You weren’t purposely trying to egg him on. You lost your sense of having a filter when you were afraid. It was a defensive mechanism for you when things got to be too much for you, and in this current situation it had a way of pissing Cooper off. Warmth started to spread across your back as Cooper got closer, the heat radiating off of him falling down the back of your neck. Letting your eyes close for a minute, you felt the hot pan of his breath over the shell of your ear, whispering: “You have no idea.”

You hated how your body reacted to his words, how close he was to you, how good it felt. Trying to focus on anything else in the moment was impossible, your mind reveling in the close proximity to him. Cooper’s large hands came to rest against your tank-top clad shoulders, enough force to keep you seated but not enough to hurt you. Enough for him to say I’m in control, versus you. Nuzzling his nose against the nape of your neck, Cooper let his hands run down to your arms, his calloused fingertips grazing your skin. “You want to know what’s on it right now?” There was a hint of possession and lust in his words, causing you to gulp down the pool of saliva in your mouth. Gripping your fingers behind your back, you inhaled sharply, licking your lips as you stared forward. “No.” You tried to sound intimidating, mean, enough to make Cooper fuck off across the room again. But to him, it was endearing. The little fight you had in you, he was intoxicated with. “Why? Scared you might like it?”

You had to give it to Cooper, he was cocky – he knew he was attractive and knew how your body reacted to him. Never would he seize the opportunity to exploit that. The dark chuckle that rang out behind you made your skin feel tight, an electric burn radiating down your spine and across your brain at how sexy it sounded. You loathed how much the sound excited you, how even if this situation you found yourself aroused. The brain rot of dark romance ruined the situation, making this out to be a dream versus reality. Trembling under his touch, he nipped at your earlobe with a groan, pulling back slightly to run his fingers over your hair, gently twirling a few strands framing your face. “I’m picturing all the fun I’m going to have with you.” You didn’t miss the groan he released at the end of the sentence, nor did you miss how his hips jutted against the back of your chair. The harsh denim of his jeans rubbing against your exposed skin. “No one around for miles, they won’t be able to hear you scream.”

The quivered whimper you let out was supposed to be inaudible, only for your ears versus Cooper’s. But alas, your body betrayed you. Hearing that made him sigh dreamily, his body dripping with arousal. Cooper’s hand that was exploring your arm came up to slide up your front, between the valley of your breasts, and settling right against your neck. His thumb and forefinger caressed your pulse points, gripping enough to where you could still breathe but, still cutting off the blood flow to your brain. You couldn’t do much except lean back into him as he did so, his lips caressing over your ear. “I bet you are so loud, I bet you beg and beg until your voice gives out.” He let out huskily, using his teeth to nip right behind your ear. The small jolt of pain caused your eyes to close, your body rolling against the chair. Cooper took this as a sign of your submittal, pressing his lips to that sweet spot on your neck, his tongue rolling over the skin. “Just taking everything I give you, such a greedy girl.”

“You’re a fucking monster,” you thought, trying to hide the fact that it was turning you on. His possessive grab over you, the way he was grinding against your back. You felt so fucked up for being turned on in this situation, you felt grimy even thinking about it. Letting your eyes fall shut, you tried to calm yourself down by thinking of anything but the predicament you’re currently in, trying to regain your mental strength if you were going to get out of this. “Call me that again, baby,” Cooper rasped, causing you to break out of your dissociation. Your eyes flicked open quickly to look at the wall ahead of you, creasing your brow as to why he said that. How could he have heard your internal thoughts? “Fuck, say it again.” Only this time you realized you had spoken those words aloud, causing Cooper to thicken in his pants at your degradation. You shouldn’t have found it intriguing at all, or played into it. But sometimes, the mind wanted to do what the body desperately hoped.

“You sick freak, fuck you.” Cooper whimpered into your ear as he grasped your neck harder, pulling your head back into him as he used his other hand to grab at your clothed breast. Through the thin, ribbed fabric of your tank top – Cooper tweaked you peaked nipple, the cold making it stiff. You hated how easily it was to elicit a moan from you through one simple action, a flow of arousal coating your panties. He wasn’t a gentle man in the slightest – in fact he was quite rough. Pulling at your nipple sent a shot of pain through your body, you couldn’t help but whine. Cooper used his torso to push you forward in the chair, removing the back easily as the wood crashed to the ground. The rickety chair made sense, but you never expected such a modification to it.

“I’m almost there sweetheart, keep going.” Cooper sobbed into your neck, biting the gentle skin around your shoulder.

His hips worked in tandem with his hand; Slipping from your nipple to the front of your leggings. Your body opened up for him, your legs falling quickly so he could slip his hands between. The plushness of your thighs made him quiver, his fingers molding to the covered flesh. He was so desperate for you, grinding against your back as he rubbed over your cunt. He could feel the hotness radiating from it; His self-control waning. The elegant sound of your small cries filled the air, your hips moving against Cooper’s hand. His thumb finding your clit through your leggings, pressing harshly against the bud to elicit a loud sob. “I said keep going,” he growled against your neck, biting tenderly at your flesh.

“Y-You’re psychotic,” you managed to let out, your hips grinding against Cooper’s hand. There were no thoughts in your brain, only enjoying the pleasure of which he was giving you. The fucked up nature of this, mixing with pleasure only made your mind reel at what you were feeling. “True evil.” The words fell out in tandem with Cooper’s moans, with his thrusts against you, with the fluctuating grip of your neck, with the deft circles rubbing between your legs, “horrible, horrible, man.” None of your words held any merit in this moment, they weren’t true slipping out from you. But you didn’t want him to stop, as much as you hated to admit it. You needed to cum, needed Cooper to show you pleasure you hadn’t even been able to make yourself feel. In this moment you were submitting to him, letting him have his way – in hopes for a jaded orgasm.

“That’s a good girl,” Cooper grinned against you, kissing over the bite mark he left. With a few pointed thrusts against your lower back, Cooper let out a hearty moan against your flesh, a small bit of drool slipping down your skin. Each thrust he produced was weaker than the last, signaling that he had reached his orgasm, his climax rocketing through his body. The whimpers he was riding out with his orgasm edged you closer to yours, needing to feel him bring you to the edge. “You’re disgusting.” You were desperate to climax, to cum against your leggings, embarrassing yourself for him. You wanted to do anything and everything in your power to please him, if it meant he wouldn’t stop. Letting your hips work in the same motion his hips were, Cooper pressed the palm of his hand hard against your clothed core, placing a few hard slaps to your center. “Sshh, stop pretending to hate this,” he mocked in your ear, sighing dreamily as he stopped thrusting.

“I know your purposely left the door unlocked for me.” The declaration was like ice water, drenching you from your blissful state and bringing you back into your reality. Shooting your eyes wide open, you spun your head to stare at him, seeing the smirk on his lips as he chortled. “I know that you wanted me to catch you in the shower.” He was relentless, driven by his own post-nut clarity to humiliate you, but he had it all wrong. You didn’t purposely leave your door unlocked, your landlord never bothered to fix it when you complained. This was his retaliation for calling him lazy. In a way it was like he knew your manager never fixed it, taking advantage of it – and you. Shivering under his touch, everything felt like acid. His touch between your legs turned to be too much, causing you to try and pull back. The throbbing of his bite on your shoulder you’re your skin crawl. “C’mon, I know what you’re doing.” He was matter-of-fact with his statement, rolling his eyes to drop the act.

Pulling away from you, Cooper came back around to your front, squatting in a low position to stare at you. The reality of the situation came back to full light as you stared at him, the tears threatening to fall once again. Between the frustration you felt of being denied your orgasm, but also in knowing Cooper waited you out, made you feel hopeless. Turning away so you didn’t meet his eyes, Cooper grabbed your chin softly, not hurting you but needing you to look at him. The reluctance you gave him only made him grow harder for you, the softness in his body for you enhancing. “Just say it and I can make it come true.” He was so out of his mind he genuinely thought you wanted this, instead of it just being clouded by lust. It made you feel physically ill, the fact that you gave into him so easily, you should’ve felt shame…but you felt something else entirely. “Complacency isn’t my thing.” Back at it you were with the stone faced act, not giving him what he wanted. It was in that moment you saw the shift in his eyes, the twitch in his jaw, the tick of his nose. He wasn’t pissed, he was silently fuming at your sudden switch.

Pulling his hand away hard from your chin, Cooper stood up on cracking knees, huffing out in annoyance as he peered down at you. “Too bad.” It was monotoned, lacking any sort of empathy or emotion. He said it like it was an inconvenience, like he was too good for you. It made your body reel with anger and fury, the silent rage brewing beneath your skin. Cooper walked away from you and to the back corner, enough out of the way to where you couldn’t see him, fuck you could barely hear what he was doing. The faint sound of liquid being muffled by something made you feel worried, trying to clumsily work the knots in your bindings. You tried to hide your thrashing but it was no use, you were full blown panicking as his footsteps drew closer. It’s when the sound of boots hitting the concrete stopped, that you felt scared.

Cooper grasped hard at your hair, yanking at the root to pull your head back to him, forcing you to stare up at him. “Stay fucking still.” Cooper seethed as he pressed a cloth hard against your mouth, covering your nose completely. Panic radiated through your body as you were bound, a cloth covering your mouth and the ability to breathe taken away from you. The harsh grip he had on your hair made your tears fall, your lungs burn from lack of oxygen. Gulping hard into the covering of your mouth, the sickly sweet taste and smell coating your tongue like an ugly film – breathing in the chemical made your lungs burn. The corner of your vision started to blur, getting fuzzier the deeper your breathed in. Cooper’s face morphed horrifically above you – the evil smirk and glint in his eyes staring intently at you. You felt your body to limp, your muscles seizing to work, your struggles subsiding as everything shifted to black. The only thing you remembered before you passed out, was how Cooper stared at you. It was primal, waiting for his prey. You, were never going back home. That broken lock, cemented your fate.

-----

Tagging: @minedofmoria @lilly3434 @lunaluvsuu @rplver @kissofdawn666 @hibiskooks @fore45fore @lustskitty69 @rottenangel @anamiad00msday @livelaughl0ve3 @cxrrodedcoffin @greenparadiseperry @ochoag31 @theoraekenslover @fl4weriesworld @exhoism @solarmoonn30 @babygorewhore @amethystblackkchaos

[gothamite-rambler]

Lex and Clark fight over being Bruce's friend

Context: Bruce has to deal with Lex seeing him as a friend and Clark, his actual friend, being incensed with this even though Bruce wants nothing to do with Lex! Sadly it seems Lex is also out for revenge against Batman (who he isn't aware is Bruce Wayne).

Lex (in the middle of a long, boring story): I had Superman on the ropes. I could've killed him, but then freaking Batman ruined things!

Bruce (staring into his coffee cup): Tragic loss.

Lex: Right! I almost had him and then that jerk stepped in, but wait let me go back to what led up to that. You know, before Batman stepped in.

Bruce: Mm-hm.

Bruce stayed focused on his black coffee as Lex continued to drone on about this past incident, which Bruce didn’t believe, mainly because he was there as Batman. Lex didn’t almost kill Superman; he had kryptonite that Batman was able to swipe away quickly. Currently, though, he wasn’t Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce (in his head): I'm so tired... I only got an hour of sleep. Younger me could keep going on forty-five minutes, but now I can barely focus. Is Lex still talking, he repeated this story once already?

Lex (continuing to ramble): I hired a good lawyer, though, and those charges were dropped! Great, right?

Bruce: Fantastic. Want to discuss another story about yourself?

Lex smiled, feeling this was an appreciation of him, when in reality, Bruce would rather be anywhere else at the moment but was too checked out to leave.

Clark (calling from a distance): Bruce?

Clark visited Gotham to search for Bruce, needing his aid for a plan involving Lex, who was currently in the middle of scheme in Metropolis. He wasn’t expecting his buddy to be out for coffee. Lex, thankfully unaware of who Clark Kent really was, had no idea why the reporter from Metropolis was in the fancier part of town.

Lex: Bruce, there’s a crazy person calling for you!

Bruce glanced behind his shoulder, then returned to staring into the dark liquid.

Bruce: That’s a friend of mine.

Clark heard Bruce say that and smiled happily.

Lex: A poor guy is your friend? As a joke or something?

Clark, having overheard what Lex said next, changed his smile to a stoic expression. He wasn’t surprised that even in civilian clothes, Lex couldn’t resist being a jerk to the middle class or poor. Clark made it to the table where Lex eyed him suspiciously while Bruce wondered what the graining specks in his coffee were.

Clark Kent (stammering): Bruce… Wh-Why is that random guy with you at this place?

Lex Luthor (rude): Random? That’s rich coming from you. Oh wait, you’re not rich either; I can tell. To spare my friend the stress, I’ll order you kindly to leave.

Clark clenched his fists tightly, staying next to Bruce and preparing to pull him away.

Clark: I’m here to see my best buddy! I was visiting Gotham to... get lunch with him at a good restaurant, not this fake French cuisine with tiny food and expensive prices.

Lex smirked, resting his arms on the table.

Lex: That was a long-winded way of saying you’re poor and taking him to a gross fast food joint.

Clark: Well, Bruce would disagree. He likes cheap and simple foods, right Bruce?

Bruce hummed while taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitter taste refreshing on his tongue as he felt his mind become less weary. Bruce raised an index finger as he downed the entire fancy clear mug of his black coffee.

Lex (judgmental glare): He’s ignoring you. Take that as a hint.

Clark: No, he’s tired and needs a minute.

With a playful smack, Clark tapped Bruce on the back of the head as Bruce placed the empty glass back on the saucer.

Bruce: All right, that tasted bitter. Just how I like my coffee. Clark, when did you get here?

Lex (chuckling): Oh, ouch! He wasn’t even aware you were near him. That’s what you get for hitting him. Who do you think you are?

Clark: More important to him than you, isn’t that right, Bruce?

Bruce (shrugging): I mean, I’d rather be at work.

Lex (oblivious): Bruce, I get it. This nuisance is bothering you. I’ve seen him in Metropolis. He’s just a paperboy.

Clark (shocked): Paperboy?!

Bruce (correcting): He’s a reporter and journalist at the Daily Planet.

Clark: That’s right!

Lex (laughing): A reporter? That’s hilarious. The fact that he thinks he’s friends with you is even funnier. I thought you bottom feeders were supposed to be good at research and noticing the obvious.

Bruce eyed Clark warily but remained silent since this wasn’t his villain.

Lex: Bruce, pal, what did you tell him? I need to know so I can use it on another poor person.

Bruce: We’re actually friends; there’s nothing deceitful about it.

Clark: Aww, thanks Bruce.

Lex scoffed, remaining doubtful about this, which only made Clark angrier.

Clark (tight smile): The crazy thing is, I recognize you. Lexie, was it? Insane billionaire, arrested numerous times but always walks away because of your money… Superman has beaten you to a pulp how many times? Lost count. Bruce, you know how many times he lost?

Bruce (dryly): I stopped counting after fifty.

Lex (clenching his jaw): Okay, my name is Lex. Lex Luthor, and the charges were dropped.

Clark (sarcastic): Yeah, daddy’s money does that for you.

Bruce cleared his throat, visibly annoyed.

Clark (stumbling over his words): Not—Not you, buddy. You haven’t committed serious crimes and then walked away because you threw money at the problem.

Lex: Okay, but he’s bailed his son out of jail a lot. Sorry, Bruce, just needed to prove a point.

Bruce shrugged, getting up to get another cup of coffee. Clark and Lex waited for a few seconds, silently judging the other man.

Clark (speaking first): I have to admit, though, Lex, you look less crazed and disheveled than you did in that mugshot where you got arrested for punching a yacht captain. Impressive, did you make sure to buy out the shirts they're selling of your mugshot on the front?

Lex: He told me he’d kick me off the ship when I did nothing wrong! And yes, I'm fighting for a copyright on the shirts! That's my money!

Bruce sat back down at the table with a new cup of coffee and took another sip.

Bruce: I’m going to take this with me.

Bruce poured the rest of the contents into a travel mug he brought with him, causing Lex to look on in shock.

Lex: He got that from you, Cline? Only poor people take leftover coffee with them!

Clark (gritted teeth): My name is Clark.

Lex (smirking): Paperboy, don’t you have a sensationalist, false story to write?

Clark: Hey, we fact-check all our sources! That was only in the '60s!

Bruce stared at his carrot cake, pondering if he should’ve gotten a different flavor.

Bruce: I should’ve gotten the strawberry cake. This is too dry.

Lex (glaring at Clark): I’m not sure what he told you, poor man, but he probably just said that you were friends to be nice. So I’m going to say this one last time: leave.

Clark clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Bruce sighed, standing up with his travel mug.

Bruce: Clark clearly needs me for something urgent, Alexander. My apologies, but I have to talk to him before he says or does something he regrets.

Clark gulped, holding his head down.

Bruce: We can meet up in three weeks.

Lex shrugged.

Lex: Works for me; we can discuss that merger you were interested in.

Bruce (shaking his head): I wasn’t, but put that in the back of your mind for next time. Clark, go the other way.

Clark (smugly): I will. Have the day you deserve, Alexander.

Lex: You call me Lex!

Clark walked off with a curt smile not correcting himself because this is Lex Luthor. Bruce raised his coffee as a sign of goodbye to Lex and followed behind Clark. Lex crossed his arms, perplexed at one thing and assuming the two were out of earshot.

Lex: Bruce is a strange man, but is he friends with that guy because he’s lonely? Geez, I have to find some middle-class people he can be around.

Clark groaned, unfortunately overhearing what Lex said.

Bruce: He’s talking about us?

Clark: Yes... I hate that guy. When were you going to tell me you were talking to that asshole? Is this like Arthur? What does he have that I don’t?

Bruce: Oh my God, for the last time, Arthur and I are friends. Get over it. With Lex, we got stuck in an elevator during a business trip. He kept rambling about the dumbest shit and blaming everyone for his crimes, but he assumed me barely responding meant I wanted to be his friend. He hasn't left me alone since.

Clark (nodding): That sounds about Lex.

Bruce chuckled, agreeing.

Bruce: Yep, today he caught me when I was tired and offered to buy me coffee. I couldn’t say no; it’s free coffee.

Clark (gently patting Bruce on the back): Also fair. Freaking Lex, trying to steal my best buddy.

Bruce (exhausted): I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this. What did you actually visit for?

Clark (serious): I've got some bad news. Lex is targeting Batman this time. He believes Batman is foolish enough to ally with him, and he's definitely planning to strike at your weakest point—metaphorically speaking. I thought you should be aware.

Bruce (concerned): How did you find this out?

Clark: A reporter has his ways of finding out because I'm a credible one. Not one that spreads false news!

Bruce (annoyed): We are not even near him anymore; calm down. We can discuss the rest of this at the manor.

Clark: Perfect.

Clark placed his arm on Bruce’s shoulder, but the man sidestepped away, not in the mood.

Lex Luthor being oblivious that Bruce Wayne hates him pt 1

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Headcanons of Lucifer watching his s/o and Charlie getting along and maybe even having a little musical note together I just know he'd be getting all teary eyed and shit seeing his baby girl having some form of mother figure or someone she can really look to for advice currently present in her life ❤️ Thanks sm hope u have a good day/night!

Absolutely!

I think at first the relationship between Charlie and anyone her dad dates is awkward because she's so nice and trying to be supportive and Lucifer's new s/o would be trying too hard to create that bond. But steadily, you two would find real things you have in common and begin spending time together.

I'm going to use myself for reference here, but I personally really like arts and crafts kind of stuff and am willing to listen to pretty much all genres of music as long as I like the beat/rhythm. So I imagine most of your bonding is done making posters for the hotel, doing crafts with the guests, and just in general vibing to music together.

Like, one suggested activity for the group is coloring because it's a good outlet and it becomes so popular you guys just have a permanent stack of coloring pages and books available with marker, pens, colored pencils, and you, Charlie, Lucifer, and Vaggie are all just coloring and talking, Lucifer's telling embarrassing stories about baby Charlie for you and Vaggie, and you share a few embarrassing stories of yourself to make Charlie feel better and the absolute relief on her face is palpable.

Charlie is nervous because some sinners critiqued her hotel, her appearance, how her dad had to bail her out in the fight against heaven and it's all just making her upset. And of course her dad and her girlfriend are gonna say stuff about how she's beautiful, the hotel is a wonderful idea, and she was so brave in that fight. And like, yeah you're dating her dad and you've been super nice so far, but when you sit down next to her and ask quietly, "Can I offer you some advice?"

"Please? I feel like I don't know what I'm doing."

You laugh, patting her shoulder. "You're young, Charlie, you're not supposed to have it all figured out. But one thing you can do, is decide not to let judgemental pricks get to you. Take every criticism with a grain of salt. Improve, adapt, and filter out bullshit. You can't make everyone happy, and you'll exhaust yourself if you try. So as long as you're happy and at the end of the day you can say you're proud of what you've done, that you tried....well, that should be enough, right?"

Charlie thinks about it and nods. There's a visible shift in her attitude. "Thanks, I needed to hear that....Do you think you could help me read through some of the reviews and stuff? I want to improve if there's any genuine issue that I can address and Dad and Vaggie are....a lot. They just keep trying to tell me everything is perfect."

"They're just trying to hype you up. They love you a lot, so naturally they want you to feel successful and excited. Come on, let's go make some big bowls of ice cream and read through those reviews using silly AI voices. It'll be hilarious."

You and Charlie head off to do just that, talkin and laughing, and neither one of you notices Lucifer absolutely melting into the floor from a few floors up, as he clings to the railing he was leaning against to ease drop. He's gonna need a few minutes to recover. He's crying happy tears. His little girl is grown up and getting along with his partner and they're spending time together and enjoying things together. You're giving her advice and offering her comfort and meeting Charlienat her level and he's just more convinced you're perfect.

He may or may not be ring shopping in the near future. Probably with Ozzie and Bee. They've always had good taste and will probably be thrilled to help him. And if Ozzie is also casually looking for a ring while they're out, well, Lucifer won't say anything.

[kuroppiii]

     little mermaid ᵕ̈           boyfie!kuroo tetsurō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : "not even the ocean could ⋮⋮  rip me away from you. i'm not going ⋮⋮ anywhere. what am i? sea foam?"

📋 content         ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮         ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛         ♡ # ~800 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ i ' m in the summer mood thanks to @lcvemiyuki 's account xx . hot writer summer !!! ( not proofread !! ) ”

you turn to the next page of your book. you try your best from letting the sand that's stuck to your sunscreen-ed arm deposit little grains into the nooks and crannies of the novel's binding, but it's hard considering your lounging on your towel stomach-first. the seagulls circling above you and the shade of your beach umbrella mock you as you inevitably fail to do so. you try to lean forward and gently blow the sand off the neatly-printed letters when–

"stop moving babe!" your boyfriend of 6'2" whines like a child. "you're going to ruin art. my art."

and with that, you feel more sand getting dumped on the back of your legs and the light patting of hands to shape it around your body. kuroo was currently trying to give you a mermaid tail.

"how much longer is this gonna take, tetsu?" you struggle to say without giggling through your words. you hear him return your laughter, and although you can't turn around to see it, you can picture his smile and the way his eyes crease at the corners as he does so. you hear his steps in the sand as he comes up to join you and your book.

"it's almost done," he announces before nosing at the side of your face and leaving loving kisses from your temple to your slightly-sunburnt shoulder. you feel the ocean water still remnant in his hair from the swim you two shared earlier.

"you said that about 20 minutes ago if i recall correctly," you tease, trying your best to dodge his sea salty kisses.

"i told you to stop moving! oh, i'm gonna have to start all over again at this rate," he complains with the most dramatic sigh any one person has ever mustered, making you laugh more. "and how do you know it's already been 20 minutes, anyway? i haven't seen you check your phone at all, you've had your nose stuck in that book."

"well can see from the shadow of the sunscreen," you start through your fit of giggles, but as you start your defense kuroo starts to shift so he's right in front of you–face-to-face with you and leaning on his side. maybe it's heatstroke, but you swear you can see a twinkle in your boyfriends eyes, like the way the ocean shimmers in the midday sunlight. "and y'know if the egyptians, if they can use their sun dials to, to tell the passage of time, then... then..."

your laughter dies down and sound of your voice trails off. a subtle smile graces kuroo's lips, and you start to feel small by how devoutly he's admiring you.

you two share a peaceful moment, a lull where it's just you two and the sound of waves crashing against the shore nearby.

"i should bury you in sand more often," he suddenly blurts out, interrupting the silence.

you start laughing again, "why on earth would you say that?"

kuroo shakes his head and places his hand to the side of our smiling cheek, "because that way i know you won't go away. i like having you here, with me."

"i could never leave you, tetsu. even when i get my legs back. not even the ocean could rip me away from you. i'm not going anywhere. what am i? sea foam?" you lightheartedly joke. kuroo hums in response, and you feel the pad of his thumb start to caress your cheekbone.

suddenly you realize how close you two were, you can almost feel his lips on yours and the feeling makes your eyes flutter shut. at last, you feel his soft and tender (and a little sandy) kiss as his hand comes down to take your hand away from your book and into his own.

you depart and it's like you're in a daze. you have to take a deep breath of seaside air and rest your head down on your arm as you and kuroo smile at each other like the two lovestruck idiots you are.

then he goes to brush off the sand from his swim trunks and sit up, "alright babe, what do you say to some sea shells to decorate your marvelous tail–the one you definitely love and will stay still for because yours truly is making it?"

you reach out and grab a fistful of sand and launch it at his torso, which he lets out a pitchy yelp at in response.

"whatever you want mr. artiste, as long as i can get my legs back soon so we can go out and swim again," you say as you shift to continue your book.

kuroo gives you a wink, "anything for my little mermaid."

[waywardstation]

HAPPY WIP WEDNESDAY!!

This one is to promote @bananacreamphi ‘s dojoshipping week prompts !! I’m participating in it with a fic and accompanying art, each day’s prompt making up one of its seven chapters.

Even though it’s obviously for dojoshipping, just like all my other works you can probably read it entirely platonic as well if you want.

Here is a WIP from it!! It’s a little shorter today because the chapters themselves are shorter.

The overarching story is essentially Ingo helping Zisu fix up the dojo for a festival, because he’s sort of the one that busted it up in the first place with all his battling — it’s a plot that was taken from one of my fake fic title ideas when I was doing those!!

Enjoy! Wording is (VERY) subject to change.

————

“About that, Ingo,” Zisu laughed a little, but it felt more like she was just trying to keep the mood light. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Oooh, you’re in trouble~” Akari’s teasing remark was bursting at the seams with amusement as she elbowed him. It seemed she was already fully aware of the subject, and had been waiting for Zisu to bring it up — her perceived delight only encouraged preemptive embarrassment to heat Ingo’s ears.

“Why am I in trouble?” Straightening his back as stiff as his tone, Ingo set his chopsticks down against the table under a flat hand, immediately looking at Zisu.

“He’s not in trouble,” Zisu pointed at Akari with her chopsticks before turning to Ingo. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I feel like I’m in trouble.”

“You’re not…” A pause, as the last syllable stretched out. “…exactly, in trouble.”

Ingo could only feel himself growing warmer in the face, and Akari’s snickering off to the side wasn’t helping. “Please don’t delay this any longer, what did I do that has caused such a concern?”

Zisu’s answer wasn’t immediate; while she was probably trying to be gentle about it, the effort only doubled the dread. “Well, you know the welcoming festival coming up in a few days?”

“…Indeed,” Ingo spoke slowly, giving a reaffirming nod. He couldn’t not know about it, what with the newly-finished homes; now empty but soon to be filled by residents traveling across the ocean, it was all anyone was talking about right now. But what could he possibly have to do with any of that?

“Kamado wants the entire village to be at its best for our new residents when they arrive — and I mean the entire village. Every building, every street, every bucket, every grain of dirt, it has to be perfect. Well he came by the training grounds early this morning, before you had even gotten there, and he was…” A pause to figure out how to put it nicely. “Not particularly overjoyed with the current state of it.”

“Oh,” Ingo could see where this was going now. “Oh dear.”

The dojo was sturdy, but it was not indestructible. Ingo was well aware that the battles he conducted at the training grounds were never delicate or subdued. They were oftentimes quite intense with Akari’s help, and over time, such intensity left wood paneling splintered, paint chipped, and dirt in areas there certainly should not be dirt.

No one could deny that it had considerable wear and tear, noticeable from afar and unsightly up close. That was certainly not a presentable sight in a village that apparently needed everything perfectly in place for this festival, down to the specks of dirt on the ground.

[agoodroughandtumble]

Wholeheartedly Part 2 - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Wholeheartedly - Roronoa Zoro x Reader Status: Ongoing Summary: Reader reflects on her "relationship" with Zoro - but does he reciprocate? Warning: 18+, Language, angst, implied smut

The girls’ room was far too hot – stifling even. You had been tossing and turning trying to get comfortable for what seemed like hours. Every now and then glancing enviously over at Nami who had, annoyingly, managed to fall asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You knew you were tired – eyes barely able to stay open for a few seconds, even aching slightly and yet your limbs refused to be comfortable, and your mind refused to relax. As always, your increasing frustrations at not being able to sleep was usually the very thing keeping you awake.

With a huff, you shoved the bed covers aside and climbed out of bed. Maybe some fresh air was needed – something to clear your head and cool you down. Careful not to wake up your companion, you tiptoed towards the door, hands feeling the walls as you went and followed the corridors out onto the deck. A slight breeze welcomed you, but even that was warm. The Merry had been docked for a day now, so you wandered over to the harbour side, curious to see how many of the inns and taverns were still lit up, letting your mind wander as you imagined all the lives and stories playing out in the town below.

Maybe someone was falling in love at that very moment. Maybe someone else was trying to mend a broken heart with song and drink. It made you envious – the Merry had felt increasingly claustrophobic since your last rendezvous with Zoro. Unsurprisingly, the places to hide onboard were few and far between, especially when as far as everyone else was concerned there was nothing going on between you and the swordsman. Even Zoro was painfully unaware of the effect he was having on you. Although you had to admit that was probably for the best. It was crystal clear that your feelings were never going to be reciprocated. The best you could hope for was that they remained unspoken until eventually, hopefully, they would fade away.

With a sigh, you leant your elbow against the railings and rested your chin in your palm. Every now and then you allowed yourself the self-indulgence to wallow in unrequited love. It was a cliché, of course it was, but it was your cliché – and if you couldn’t hold onto Zoro you were at least going to hold onto that. Your fingers traced along the grain of the wood as you allowed yourself to slip further into the fantasy, conjuring up all the ways in which you would hold onto Zoro. Submerging further without any care to resurface. Eventually, you would come up for air – but for the time being sinking and drowning were one and the same.

Your tranquillity did not last long.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Hmm?” You replied lazily, still half daydreaming and without turning around.

“Struggling myself. Thought I might take a walk, take in some of the local atmosphere – interested in keeping me company?”

You should have probably said no – headed back to your room and spent the rest of the night glaring at Nami sleeping soundly. But if you made sensible decisions you wouldn’t be in your current predicament. “Sure, I’m not paying for anything though.”

*

Zoro was in a decidedly Not Good mood. Some may even say he was pissed off. Ever since the last time you and him had been … alone, things had been awkward. What’s worse, ever since then all he wanted was to be alone with you more often. He wasn’t able to describe it – which only served to piss him off further – but something about the last time had been different. Weird. You had been short with him, fuck knows why, and you had been avoiding him.

He had woken up that morning just like any other – confused as to why you were still putting up with him – but thankful nonetheless. And then … it happened. What it was still remained a mystery; he wasn’t good at looking for anything, least of all the intricacies which dominated your “relationship” so he had done the reasonable thing and brushed it off, wholeheartedly coming to the conclusion that it was simply a setback and nothing more. You would be digging your nails into his shoulder blades before the week was out. And everything would right itself.

Only it hadn’t.

You were managing to occupy far more of his thoughts than he would care to admit. He found himself actively seeking you out instead of passively assuming the night would end up with the two of you in whichever part of the Merry seemed most convenient at the time. It was like he had been coasting, treading water and all of a sudden he’d forgotten how to swim but the only thing to keep himself from drowning was your nonchalant attitude – hardly something he could stake his heart on, let alone his life. And even with that he was still coughing up water, razors still shredded at his lungs.

By the time he was finally conscious of the fact that he wanted, no needed, to see you he was already halfway towards yours and Nami’s room. If he was Sanji, he would have a perfectly rehearsed speech. He would win you over with some pretty words and a well timed wink. But he wasn’t Sanji and his brain had only caught up with his brain and this was a fucking awful idea. He was about to turn back and forget about the whole endeavour – some sake would surely help – when he noticed your door was slightly ajar. His eyebrows furrowed – you and Nami always kept the door locked after the first time Luffy had bounded in with his latest bounty poster whilst the two of you were getting dressed. Luffy had been oblivious, of course, but from them on it was unspoken rule that an unlocked door was not a good sign. He let out a frustrated sigh at leaving his swords in his own quarters whilst nudging the door open slightly – he couldn’t hear anything but that didn’t mean nothing was amiss. Tentatively he stepped further but all he could hear was someone’s soft breathing. Confused, he stepped in a little further – allowing the door to stay open to see a little light spill into the room. Nami was there but your bed was empty.

Thankfully, there was no sign of a struggle. And surely anyone with ill intent wouldn’t just leave Nami so he made his way to the kitchen to see if you’d woken up hungry or thirsty. But that proved to be a dead end as well. This was strange. He could feel his heartbeat becoming more rapid as every corner and room proved to be more and more devoid of you. Eventually his search led him to the deck – although why you would be up there alone in the middle of the night was a mystery all in itself.

Except.

“Can’t sleep?”

He stood in the hatchway, arms crossed tightly against his chest as he watched Sanji fucking sauntering up to you. The repugnant smell of his cigarettes went straight to Zoro’s nose – he couldn’t understand how you could bear it. The cook was getting far too close for his liking, too close to you that Zoro could no longer hear what the two of you were saying. All he could see was you smiling at him, and him smiling back and then you followed him down the gangplank and Zoro wanted to be sick only he couldn’t. He was drowning.

[cornie-heesan]

Cherrygirlxx

STARING| Nakamoto Yuta x fem!reader

PROMPT| of creator!reader

DESCRIPTION| After the incident that happened at the house with Mark and Yuta, the Japanese man had been scarce around the house. Only coming home long enough to grab a fresh change of clothes. No more lingering stares, comments or slightly unsavory touches between Yuta and Mark’s girlfriend. Yuta has found himself a little play thing of his own that has been occupying his time.

WARNINGS| Dubious content my friends, perv!yuta, dom!yuta, sir kink, corruption kink, spitting, rough sex, unprotected sex [don’t, you’ll get pregnant and d*e], piv, spanking, fingering, oral [m and f recieving], AFAB body description, spanking, hair pulling, face sitting, choking, name calling [affectionate], if any of the previous statements bother you, or you don’t like it- don’t read it

WORD COUNT| 1,409

A/N| I have no idea where this came from lol

A/N| Pt.2 I've been MIA because I moved 30 hours across the country and had to drive lmao, here's something even if it's not much ;)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT- read at your own discretion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuta had made himself scarce around the house after the incident a few weeks ago- not because he was ashamed- more, curious to venture out and do something exciting on his own- preferably with a partner. He spent long nights in the library studying, watching movies, hell even sleeping- when there was one night that he’d me you, Y/L/N Y/N. All frills, ribbons, pretty nails and a devious smile.

For a few days the two of you shared flirty smiles and heated gazes- then the next Yuta’s eyes follow you around the library where he hops he could get a little glimpse under the short little skirts you wear. He takes note of your favorite drink order, the way you cutely nibble on the end of your acrylic nails as you read through some texts.

One day he sees you leaning against a bookshelf thighs continuously rubbing together. He watches as your chest heaves, cheeks a wicked shade of red and little gasps leaving your plump lips. He didn’t think you were going to be sick- his head cocks slightly as he glances around the practically empty basement level of the library.

Eyes land on a man, sitting only a few meters away from you- baseball cap partially covering his hair, a phone propped against a water bottle and another phone with an app open, that the mystery guy is currently dragging his finger against. Yuta’s eyes widen slightly as he recognizes the app- it controls a wireless vibrator. A high pitched whine draws his attention back to you- teary eyes focused on his own.

Your hips are twitching, you try to keep the noises down but you can’t help it- a squeal leaves your lips as your eyes roll back and your lips take an O shape. Yuta can’t help but hungrily roam your body- he can see the flex of your lower belly as your orgasm surges through you. Thighs twitching, nails digging into the grain of the bookcase you learned on- and he definitely didn’t miss the trickle of slick running down your thighs.

He packs up his things quickly, retreating to the single use bathroom before he got transfixed on watching the afterglow overtake your body. He was as hard as a fucking brick in his loose fitting gym shorts- a small dark patch of pre stating where the head of his cock was settled. He makes quick work of locking the door and shoving his shorts down to his ankles before gripping his cock tightly.

A hiss slips past his bared teeth at the contact, whole heartedly wishing it was your warm pussy wrapped around him. Yuta didn’t care that he didn’t know your name, he didn’t need to when just the mere thought of you made his balls heavy and stomach clenching with need. Honestly your reminded him of his favorite only fans creator- cherrygirlxx

He can’t help the debauched groan that leaves his lips as he fumbles to pull his phone out of his bag opening the app and pulling your account up- where he sees a newly posted video on your account. A very familiar shade of green is behind you along with several bookcases as the little microphone you wore picks up the little whimpers and cries that leave you only captioned

‘Please, sir 🥺’

Yuta can’t help but speed up his hand. His favorite fucking creator goes to his school and has been sending him ‘fuck me’ eyes every day in the library for the last two weeks. He subconsciously matches your frequencies- fucking his fist along with the recorded whimpers leave your lips. Dirty words leaving your lips as you beg and plead for ‘sir’ to fuck you, to make you cum. It only eggs Yuta on, pushing him over the edge as cum leaks from his reddened tip, dripping around his fingers until his balls feel completely emptied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yuta avoids his normal area in the library for a few days, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in real life without popping a chub like a prepubescent boy. After the fifth day he decides that he can’t keep himself from seeing your pretty face in person any longer- that and the fact that and some of the younger brothers had figured out where he’d been hiding the last couple of weeks.

He doesn’t say a word to you- until one day you sat pertly on the chair next to him, Shining lip gloss coating your lips, skirt barely gracing your thighs, that were partly covered in stocking with little pink bows that dug into the fat of your them. Yuta’s brain short circuits, almond shaped nails ghosting over the skin of his arm where his lock and chain tattoo sat.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re taken,” the pout of your glossy lips draws his attention away from your pink painted nails- he’s able to give you the most charming smile “No cherry girl, it doesn’t” you don’t shy away from his silent confession instead your eyes sparkle with mischief. Confidently you move closer to him, your breasts pushing against his arm, sticky lips ghosting his ear

“Would you be down to film some content with me?” Your breath causing tingles to shoot down Yuta’s spine but he tries to cover it up with a husky laugh “Do you always try this with guys around campus, princess?” He hums sliding his hand to rest lightly around your throat “No sir,” you sigh dreamily wishing he’d put just a little more delicious pressure around your throat.

“Who was the guy last week, hm?” His lips teasing along your jaw nipping at the skin “You know him,” you giggle sliding even closer to him- not like that was possible. Yuta thinks back to the man he saw with you last week- realizing on the way out he got a look at his face.

Ten Lee

How had he not recognized his frat brother? Better yet, how did Ten not notice that Yuta was sitting right there? The universe must be out for him at this point.

Your nails scrape along his thighs as he watches you sink down on to your knees staring up at him with those same fuck me eyes you had been giving him weeks ago.

“Can I please, please, please suck your cock sir?” Yuta couldn’t deny how pleasing you looked begging him to bring his cock out. The Japanese man smirk, subconsciously spreading his thighs wider

"Since you've been such a good girl, I don't see why not."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you guys always watching someone fuck in this god damn living room?” Johnny groans kicking his shoes off hearing the unmistakable sound of skin on skin slapping. First with the Mark bullshit and now Jaehyun, Haechan, Jeno, Jaemin, Ten and Yangyang have only fans pulled up on the tv.

“You know how Ten is friends with that creator ‘cherrygirlxx’? She has a man on her account now. He’s been trying to figure out why she hasn’t had him help with content lately.” Jaehyun explains like it’s some kind of research project “Ten, why are all your friends outside of this house into recording themselves?” John questions only to receive a shrug for an answer. Giving up Johnny just gives in and joins the watch party.

The videos change after the last one Ten helped with, using a wireless vibrator to get you off in the middle of the library. Next is a video of you was filled with that unmistakable ugly orange carpet in the basement of the library and the thighs of some mysterious man who’s cock you were currently choking on. Wonton whines leave your lips as drool trails down your chin as you happily swallow the guys cum with a smile on your face.

Next you were still in the library but now positioned on a table face down ass up, camera focused on your fucked out face with the lewd sounds of your pussy fill the air. The camera angle changes to your pussy being finger fucked by this man, gushes of slick leaving your body as you whither and moan for sir to let you cum.

“Jesus Christ what I would do to fuck that woman..” Haechan whines awkwardly moving his hips “Bro, ain’t no way she’s gonna let your pencil dick anywhere near her pussy.” Ten snorts “What? You hit it?” Jaehyun pipes up only to receive a smirk from the Thai man and no other answer. Ignoring his distracted brothers Jaemin swipes to the next video- where there was finally a change of scenery- albeit an outside scenery, a change none the less.

The guys pants shoved halfway down his thighs as his hand wraps around your hair arching your back as he fucks you against a tree that’s not too far from the frat house. It’s dim but the familiar shrill of music from a speaker. They sat analyzing the video trying to figure out if they could figure out who the guy was when the door opened to the front of the house.

Skin slapping and moans reach Yuta’s ears as he toes off his shoes pausing before remembering it’s not Mark because he’s got a late lecture today. His eyes find the TV where the familiar scene of his pelvis rhythmically slaps into the fat of your ass- begging him to fuck you harder on his cock. He doesn’t speak to the guys as he flops into an armchair scrolling through his phone.

The next video is the one you had only just posted a few minutes ago- you’re on your back, head dangling of the edge of an unmade bed. The man is only showed from the naval down- you have tear stained cheeks as you mindlessly babble about how good the cock inside you feels. If someone’s paying enough attention they can see the slight bulging movement of where his cock is hitting your insides.

“Wait a goddamn minute,” Yangyang speaks suddenly causing Jaemin to groan and pause the video “Doesn’t that tattoo look familiar to anyone!?” Yangyang shrieks pointing his finger aggressively to the tattooed hip “Bro, I was too busy watching her get fucked- not that guys dick?” Haechan whines before freezing finally noticing the bellybutton ring in the guys naval. Where has he seen that before?

Yuta ignores their comments on his tattoos- that is until Yangyang screamed smacking Haechan on the shoulders. They exchange eye contact before Haechan joins in on the screaming as the shake each others bodies aggressively “What the fuck are you two on?” Jaehyun grumbles peeling his eyes open to look at what they see “BUTTERFLY…TATTOO… BELLYBUTTON RING!!!!!” They scream in gasped breaths.

Yuta takes this as his sign to exit the room before everyone starts to realize they’ve been watching him I dick down the baddest [affectionate] only fans creator. Ten’s eyes catching the movement of Yuta slinking out of the room catching a quick glance of a familiar butterfly tattoo adorning his hip- a panicked scream leaves his mouth

“YOU’RE THE ONE FUCKING CHERRY?!?!?”

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 6

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Negative mental health, trauma flashbacks, angstangstangst, some comfort

This chapter is heavier in terms of angst and trauma, just to put it out there.

₊˚✩⊹

This felt nice. Stomachs were full, a few of the boys were playing a card game, you were wrapped up in an old quilt sitting on the couch in the main room. Malon hands you a cup of tea, which you cradle in your hands, occasionally sipping on. You could feel Time’s eyes on you and it was making you nervous again. You needed air.

You whisper to Malon that you’re gonna step out for a bit, needing some alone time. She nods, a worried expression crossing her features, but you wave it off as “needing a breather from the rambunctious boys”, and she nods with understanding. 

Closing the door behind you with a soft ‘click’, you walk outside, arms wrapped around your waist. It was a bit chilly, but you didn’t want to go back in to get a jacket or blanket. You sit at the edge of the wooden porch, floorboard creaking from age and the amount of times people have walked across it. You placed your head on your propped knees, tracing the grain of the wood, thinking about your current predicament.

Almost as soon as Time crossed your mind, it seems as if fate was hearing your conflict. Time shut the door behind him and walked up to you, draping the same quilt you were cuddling with inside just a few minutes ago.

“Thought you might get cold out here.” Time stills for a moment before speaking up again, “Well, I’ll leave you-” “What was that kiss a few nights ago?” you interrupted, not wanting to miss another opportunity to talk to him about your thoughts.

The air was still for a moment, the only sound being the occasional bleat of the sheep or rustle of leaves. You hear a sigh behind you, Time coming down and sitting next to you on the porch.

“Didn’t think you wanted to talk about it, if I’m being honest. You’ve been so overwhelmed and stressed since the news of the possibility of going home and I didn’t want to overwhelm you een more.”

“I was, and still am, stressed out about it, I guess I just didn’t know how to bring it up or if you even wanted to talk about it.” you chuckled, “I guess we’re not the greatest at communication, as ironic as it is.”

He let out a breath of air. “... I did want it, if that’s what you were worried about. I liked it. I like you, Y/n, and more than just travel partners or as a friend. I want to be more than that, if you want that, that is.” he said, looking straight at you.

You’ve never heard anyone sound so genuine about admitting they like you in your entire life. Despite probably being at least twice your age (nobody knew how old he actually was, because the younger looks throw them off), he looked almost like a young teenage boy telling his crush that he liked them. It was melting your heart. 

His hand stroked your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, not tearing his eyes away from you. In the low lighting, his eyes almost looked black. His thumb made his way down from your cheek, softly brushing against your bottom lip. You felt like you were about to cry from how gentle he was being with you. The physical touch and affection should’ve scared you, but you didn’t dare move. 

Before you could blink again, his lips were on you again. You didn’t realize how much you missed the feeling until now. You softly moaned, placing your hands on his shoulders for some sort of support. You felt like you were in the clouds, weightless and no worries. 

He tilted his head to kiss you deeper, a quiet groan leaving his throat. Both of your breathing picked up a bit, the kiss becoming deeper and more desperate, as if he was scared you were going to pull away from him. 

You reluctantly pulled away for air, chest heaving a bit from the lack of oxygen. You kept your hands on him, placed flat on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. Moving up to his face, He was warm too, not fever warm, but warm enough to insinuate that he was blushing, even under the near pitch-black sky. 

He suddenly cleared his throat, “We should head inside Y/n, the others might get… ideas.” he trails off, eyes still on you.

You inhale, “Time? Can we… keep this between us? For now?” you ask.

He nods without a word, offering a hand to help get up. Taking his hand, you stand up, holding the quilt under your arm. He lets you go in front of him, back into the house.

~

A few hours later, you were in bed, sharing a room with Twilight and Wild. The two had already stripped off their armor and had their comfy underlayers on for bed. You sifted through your pack, looking for your pajamas.

“So where’d you and the Old man go earlier?” Wild asks. Shit. You didn’t think it was that obvious, but they were heroes for goddesses’ sake. They noticed the smallest things.

“I-I wasn’t feeling well, mentally I guess. He just comforted me about my worries.” you mumbled, trying to look busy.

“Oh you both looked comforted,” Wild says, rolling his eyes. You stilled. He knew, they both knew.

“Was it that obvious?” you asked, anticipating the answer.

Twilight stood up from the chair in the corner of the room, “I’ve never seen the Old man so red and embarrassed. Either ya revealed his most embarrassin’ secret or you both got busy.” he smirked, leaning against the door frame.

You stared at him, “What are you implying?” you asked, eyes slightly narrowing. You wondered where this was going.

“I’m not implyin’ anythin’, just teasin’.” he said, but that was only half true. You could tell. You hear shuffling behind you, and a soft thump on the bed. Wild was sat on the bed, busy with his Sheikah Slate. You turn back to Twilight, finding a shift in his eyes. Something was off, but you couldn’t tell. He seemed to look past you.

Being fed up with his confusing behavior, you grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom to change. You made sure to lock the door, as lately certain members liked to ignore the door. You did not want to deal with being walked-in on tonight.

~

Twilight knew he’d gotten a bit too bold there. He didn’t know what he was thinking, accusing you of being affectionate with the Old man. It was none of his business, and he knew that. Then, at the same time, why did he care? Why did he care if you liked Time? Or anyone else for that matter? You aren’t his. He doesn’t own you. No one does. You can do as you please.

But… he wants you. 

He doesn’t know how or when he’s thought of you in that manner, but he can feel it. He can feel it patching up his heart piece by piece ever since Midna left him on that day, oh so many years ago. She may have felt the same, he never truly knew, but she’s long gone. You saw her leave. But you were there with him when she left him. You didn’t leave him. You didn’t leave when you saw him turn into a beast. You didn’t leave when you saw him fail over and over again. You didn’t leave when Midna did. He could hear you talking to him, consoling him, talking to him.

You stayed.

You came back. Back to him. 

And he didn’t want to lose you. Not again. Not after all he’s been through and fought for. 

He wasn’t fighting for Midna, or for the princess, or even for Hyrule.

He did it all… for you.

~

You settled into bed, which was huge, but felt constricting with a man on either side of you. Wild placed his slate on the nightstand and blew the candle out, muttering a ‘night’ to both of you, turning away from you.

Despite being in a soft, plush bed again, you couldn’t sleep. You stared at the ceiling, your thoughts running at 100 miles per hour. You and Time’s shared kiss earlier. That moment with Sky in the bathroom. Now Twilight’s sudden interest with what you were up to earlier.

What the fuck is going on with everyone?

You turn to your left, needing to lay in a different position, the last thing you were expecting was Twilight still being awake. 

You frowned, he wasn’t usually the type to be awake this late at night, especially with all the exhausting and physically taxing adventuring the Chain has been doing.

He was looking at the ceiling, what you had been doing just a moment earlier.

“Twi.” you whispered, poking his shoulder. He jumps a bit, turning his head to face you.

“You ok?” you ask. He takes a breath.

“Just thinkin’.” he whispers in response. He’s lying.

“Don’t lie to me, Twi. Please.” He closes his eyes, biting his lip in frustration.

Exhaling, he turns his entire body to face you. You were now laying face-to-face, about a foot of space between you. 

“You remember that one time we were running from a couple of Lynels while in Wild’s Hyrule?” he asks.

You roll your eyes, remembering the absolute insanity that you and Wild decided to pull.

“When ya used Wild’s Master Cycle to distract the Lynels into a different direction, all while laughin’ yer ass off? I was starstruck.”

You stopped breathing. This isn’t the direction you expected the night to go. No, not at all.

“In such a tense situation where we were all runnin’ for our lives? You were lightin’ up Hyrule with that radiant smile of yours, speedin’ away while two of the most dangerous monsters were racing toward you.”

“I mean… I wasn’t about to let you all get trampled. Regardless of how experienced y’all are, I could see the panic in all of your eyes.”

“Still, I was both so scared for you and amazed at your courage to distract the beasts. Not just anyone would do that for us. For me.” he whispered, taking your hands in his.

“I want to be there for you, Y/n. Protect you. I couldn’t bear losing you, not after all we’ve been through and all you’ve done for me. It’s my turn to be there for you.”

And with that, he closed the small distance between you two, propping himself up on his elbow to slightly hover over you and reach a comfortable angle.

His lips were soft, contrary to how you thought they would feel. He smelled like pine and wood, a musk that was dark but comforting. The slight stubble on his chin scratched slightly against your chin, but it felt nice. You’ve always liked stubble on men, but especially on him. It ignited something in you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the signal that you were enjoying this. That you wanted this. You continued kissing him, kisses as soft as a feather, and yet as hot as the lava in Death Mountain. 

When you felt his fingertips go under your tunic, you nudged him away on instinct. 

“Why won’t you let me touch you, Y/n? You’re mine, and I should be able to do as I please. What, you fucking scared of me-”

“Darlin’? You ok?” he murmurs, worried eyes flicking across your face.

You nod, not saying a word.

Rough hands pinning you down.

“What, you don’t want me to touch you? I bet you’ve been seeing that bitch-”

“Y/n?” Twilight asks again, “Are you sure you’re ok? Did I go too far?”

You shake your head, “No, sorry Twi. Just got lost in my thoughts again. And, no, you didn’t go too far. I liked it. I wanted it.” you said, giving him a small smile. He hesitates.

“I promise, Link. I liked it, I like you. A lot.” you said, cradling his face in your hands. You almost never called any of them ‘Link’, it got too confusing in the group. You only called any of them by their birth name when talking to them alone or if you were upset at them.

He kisses your palms, eyes still on you. He was way too good at making you red. A feeling that was rare and unusual, but more than welcome.

“Right, well, as much as I want to continue, we should get some rest. Plus, we don’t wanna wake up Wild with any… romantics.” he whispers, tossing a glance behind you at the sleeping hero.

You smile, already nodding off in Twilight’s warm embrace. You felt safe. Happy.

₊˚✩⊹

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Sometimes even death can be cured

Victor Frankenstein x gn!Detective!reader

A/n: I know the movie comes out 2025 but I was thinking on how Oscar's Victor will see the things or get the motivations on creating. Just something small. Please take this with a grain of salt. I did a poll on this. -> [X]

CW/Triggers: Open ending, corpse. Reader only has two small appearances, small indications of murder. Let me know if I missed some!

I'm sorry if I've overlooked some errors, I finished it late at night.

There may be potential spoilers, please don't read if you feel like you don't want any spoilers. You've been warned!!

Victor Frankenstein was well known in the town, mainly because he owned a castle higher up in the outskirts of town and he was a respected doctor.

Nobody really knew if he lived with someone else in the castle or not, he's always been seen walking alone when he came to the town getting supplies.

Victor once again headed for the town with his horse, wanting to resupply his medic portions. At his arrival, Victor came across people standing in a circle around something, he swiftly got down from his horse and made his way over, adjusting his hat he wore and suit jacket.

He noticed someone leaving the group, a blonde young man with a pale face, as if he's about to puke. But Victor stopped him, wanting to know what's going on.

"Hey excuse me, you mind telling me what's going on?"

The young man looked at him, making a bit of a face. "Someone's dead. People said he had an heart attack." he stammered, quickly making his way past Victor, covering his mouth.

Victor didn't pay any more attention to that boy, instead making his way to the group. He slithered his way through the people, and once he got a free look on the situation, he noticed a doctor already being there.

There wasn't any blood, only a dead man. The doctor at the scene quickly confirmed the man had indeed died from a heart attack. Soon after, the police arrived, along with a Detective.

"Everyone clear the scene, the police will take care." You were the one speaking up, wanting to get rid of the crowd so the police and doctor could do their job without interruptions.

Victor however didn't want to leave, he wanted to help or atleast try to help. "I'm a doctor. Maybe I'll be able to help." Victor explained, hoping he could stay.

You stopped a few feet away from Victor, one police officer on either side of you. "What's your name?"

Victor extended his hand. "My name's Victor, Victor Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein? You're the one with the castle I assume?" you asked, returning the gesture and shaking Victor's hand.

"I'm afraid so, Detective." Victor nodded.

You gave a small smile, looking over Victor's shoulder to the doctor currently working on the corpse. "Victor, I'm afraid we're not in need of your help. A doctor's currently taking your place."

Victor let out a small huff. "I understand. I'll be on my way then, Detective. Have a good day." he nodded, tipping his hat at you before he turned to walk the way he intended to at first.

While walking, Victor thought about if he could have done something, maybe even mixture something new. But he knew some simple potions couldn't make the human heart magically beat again, but the heart can be restarted with electricity. And what natural phenomenon or source is able to produce such power? Thunder. Lightning to be exact. Victor lost himself in thought, looking at the ground. His hat blocked some of his sight when he suddenly bumped against something.

Victor looked up, seeing a rather old man with not much hair left on his head, looking stunned but also looking frantically in different directions as if searching what had bumped into him.

"Hello?" the confused man asked, his eyes were pale as Victor catched them.

Victor quickly reassured the man, placing his hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see you, are you okay?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

In the distance he could hear someone call out. "Hey! Excuse me, he's with me, did he do something?" a woman called out, holding her long skirt up a bit in order to quickly get to them through all the dirt and mud on the ground.

"No, actually I bumped into him." Victor said, adjusting his hat a bit and stepping back.

"Sorry about him, I'm the person taking care of him. Even though he's blind he manages to wander off as soon as I look away for even a second." The woman gave a nervous chuckle, gently taking the man by his hand to lead him to the side.

Victor just shrugged it off. "It's okay." he smiled.

"Have a good day, sir." she gave a small smile, then proceeded to lead the blind man away. "When I'm not holding you, it doesn't mean you're allowed to wander off and get yourself hurt." Victor heard the woman scold the blind man in a soft manner.

After the encounter Victor went to the apothecary to stock up his medical supply, and as he made his way back to his horse, he decided to stop at a store to buy some medical books. At the end, he was back inside his castle, in his big study room. Victor had been reading until it was already dead at night, the wind had suddenly began to blow in strong waves on the windows. A thunder was probably about to happen. Victor's eyes suddenly shot up, remembering the events of the day.

Victor thought back to the dead man who had a heart attack, he was certain the police just rolled the corpse up in some covers to retrieve it the next day with coroners. Victor was fast, attaching a small wagon to his horse and rode to the town. Nobody was out at this hour, especially not with an imminent thunder, Victor arrived at the spot where the man was, spotting indeed a wagon with what looked like a corpse wrapped up in some sheets. He looked around, making sure he was hundred percent alone before carrying the corpse to his wagon.

It was surprisingly easy for Victor to get the corpse and he was a bit anxious of getting caught. He knew that he should have planned things like that, but everything happened so suddenly - the man dying from a heart attack, a thunder appearing out of nowhere, but Victor still wanted to try and do something. And since the corpse was still a bit fresh, there might be a chance something could happen.

The wind was getting stronger and some rain was already dropping down. Victor was fast, getting the corpse to the backyard of his castle, unwrapping it, grabbing a thin, long spike from a fence and stabbed it into the chest.

Victor was already expecting things to fail. A beating heart without a functional brain in the body wasn't going to revive a human.

The rain was pouring down now, the thunder arrived and lightning was painting the night sky. Victor stood close by, but not too close, watching what would happen if a lightning struck the body.

The thunder continued, but no lightning was striking the body, Victor was slowly losing hope. But as he was about just walk away, a lightning shot down into the spike, he saw the electricity making its way downwards into the body, causing it to flash blue for only a fraction of a second. Victor kept his eyes on the body, when suddenly he noticed the hand of the corpse twitch.

At seeing this, Victor couldn't believe his own eyes, he just stood there, flabbergasted even. The corpse didn't move again after that though, and Victor felt a pang of disappointment. The thunder was getting weaker as it continued to move away from Victor's castle.

Victor waited until the thunder was far away, he inspected the body, seeing a dark spot where the heart was, indicating the electricity of the lightning has done atleast something.

"Now I only need to get rid of the corpse." Victor muttered to himself, removing the spike from the chest, picking the corpse up and putting it down in his wagon once more. Victor left to get a shovel before getting on his horse again and ride off to a secluded piece of the nearby forest where he intended to bury the corpse.

Victor had made a deep hole, carefully dragging the corpse into it and burying the corpse once and for all. After he was done, he stabbed the shovel into the dirt, resting his arms on the handle to catch some breaths. His clothes and face were a bit dirty, a layer of sweat coated his face. After he calmed down, he was about to walk away when he heard a crunch of leafes and some sticks nearby.

Victor instantly stopped moving, looking into the direction where he heard the noises, spotting a person standing there.

"Hello?" came a voice. Victor could swear he heard the voice somewhere, it sounded familiar even if it was just a simple hello. Victor gave a small wave with his hand, but the person standing there didn't seem to recognize the gesture, just standing there.

"Is there someone?" the person asked. Realization hit Victor hard, he now remembered who he's looking at. It is the blind man he saw earlier today who was supposed to have that woman as his caretaker. He remembered her saying this guy could sneak off even if she didn't pay attention to him for one second.

Victor had to admit he was glad the man was blind. What he couldn't need right now were some witnesses...

Victor decided to just keep on moving, he knew it was cruel of him to just let that guy stand there in the woods but he couldn't risk of getting caught, even if it was just some blind man.

He heard the man ask something again, but Victor had already gotten onto his horse and rode off back to his castle. Back at his castle, he went straight to bed, relieved the day's events had passed rather troubleless...

The next day Victor woke up by some insistent knockings on his door. He let out an annoyed groan, getting out and making his way to the door. As Victor opened the door, he was met by an familiar face. You.

"Good morning, Dr. Frankenstein." you greeted. "We are here because a corpse has been stolen last night."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "And you immediately think I've done it?"

You reassured him. "No, no. We just want to know if you've seen something maybe?"

Victor catched the gaze of an police officer, who looked at him expectantly. "No detective, I was out cold pretty early last night from all my studying." he lied expertly.

He seemed to be telling the truth to you, so you believed him. "Alright, sorry for the disturbance. I wish you a good day." you shot him a smile.

Victor returned the smile. "Good luck on investigating, detective." before shutting the door again. Victor let out a relieved breath.

He went to his study room, knowing he couldn't get some more sleep now, so he resumed reading some books be bought the day before. This one was a biology book with newly discovered medical facts of the human body.

Victor read a sentance he found quite interesting. "If the heart stopped beating, there is still enough oxygen left in the human brain to function for 6 to 7 more minutes before dying."

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. "So that means if the man with the heart attack had been revived quick enough he could have lived..." he hummed, a slow smirk formed on his face.

Maybe next time it will work...