#but it still is far more effective knowing the rest of the story

[gerdy-sertorius]

Prologue to Osamu Dazai's "No Longer Human"

I have seen three pictures of the man.

The first, a childhood photograph you might call it, shows him about the age of ten, a small boy surrounded by a great many women (his sisters and cousins, no doubt). He stands in brightly checked trousers by the edge of a garden pond. His head is tilted at an angle thirty degrees to the left, and his teeth are bared in an ugly smirk. Ugly? You may well question the word, for insensitive people (that is to say, those indifferent to matters of beauty and ugliness) would mechanically comment with a bland, vacuous expression, “What an adorable little boy!” It is quite true that what commonly passes for “adorable” is sufficiently present in this child’s face to give a modicum of meaning to the compliment. But I think that anyone who had ever been subjected to the least exposure to what makes for beauty would most likely toss the photograph to one side with the gesture employed in brushing away a caterpillar, and mutter in profound revulsion, “What a dreadful child!”

Indeed, the more carefully you examine the child’s smiling face the more you feel an indescribable, unspeakable horror creeping over you. You see that it is actually not a smiling face at all. The boy has not a suggestion of a smile. Look at his tightly clenched fists if you want proof. No human being can smile with his fists doubled like that. It is a monkey. A grinning monkey-face. The smile is nothing more than a puckering of ugly wrinkles. The photograph reproduces an expression so freakish, and at the same time so unclean and even nauseating, that your impulse is to say, “What a wizened, hideous little boy!” I have never seen a child with such an unaccountable expression.

The face in the second snapshot is startlingly unlike the first. He is a student in this picture, although it is not clear whether it dates from high school or college days. At any rate, he is now extraordinarily handsome. But here again the face fails inexplicably to give the impression of belonging to a living human being. He wears a student’s uniform and a white handkerchief peeps from his breast pocket. He sits in a wicker chair with his legs crossed. Again he is smiling, this time not the wizened monkey’s grin but a rather adroit little smile. And yet somehow it is not the smile of a human being: it utterly lacks substance, all of what we might call the “heaviness of blood” or perhaps the “solidity of human life”—it has not even a bird’s weight. It is merely a blank sheet of paper, light as a feather, and it is smiling. The picture produces, in short, a sensation of complete artificiality. Pretense, insincerity, fatuousness— none of these words quite covers it. And of course you couldn’t dismiss it simply as dandyism. In fact, if you look carefully you will begin to feel that there is something strangely unpleasant about this handsome young man. I have never seen a young man whose good looks were so baffling.

The remaining photograph is the most monstrous of all. It is quite impossible in this one even to guess the age, though the hair seems to be streaked somewhat with grey. It was taken in a corner of an extraordinarily dirty room (you can plainly see in the picture how the wall is crumbling in three places). His small hands are held in front of him. This time he is not smiling. There is no expression whatsoever. The picture has a genuinely chilling, foreboding quality, as if it caught him in the act of dying as he sat before the camera, his hands held over a heater. That is not the only shocking thing about it. The head is shown quite large, and you can examine the features in detail: the forehead is average, the wrinkles on the forehead average, the eyebrows also average, the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the chin... the face is not merely devoid of expression, it fails even to leave a memory. It has no individuality. I have only to shut my eyes after looking at it to forget the face. I can remember the wall of the room, the little heater, but all impression of the face of the principal figure in the room is blotted out; I am unable to recall a single thing about it. This face could never be made the subject of a painting, not even of a cartoon. I open my eyes. There is not even the pleasure of recollecting: of course, that’s the kind of face it was! To state the matter in the most extreme terms: when I open my eyes and look at the photograph a second time I still cannot remember it. Besides, it rubs against me the wrong way, and makes me feel so uncomfortable that in the end I want to avert my eyes.

I think that even a death mask would hold more of an expression, leave more of a memory. That effigy suggests nothing so much as a human body to which a horse’s head has been attached. Something ineffable makes the beholder shudder in distaste. I have never seen such an inscrutable face on a man.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt the second dream story featuring a third dream story I can't remember if I ever talked abt. I <3 body horror bonus points if its slow and agonizing

[fifteensjukebox]

i know im just having A Day but a conversation just ended w me feeling like i overstayed my welcome which made me feel like i simply shouldn't have bothered but i was asked to contribute !!

it's like. this was a spoken conversation but it's comparable to when u send one more text that's not actually adding anything to keep the conversation going and the person understandably doesn't reply

except my response felt necessary to me i can't just leave the conversation where it was left when the last thing said to me clarified something why shouldn't i have the opportunity to say "yeah i was going based on this incorrect information"

admittedly i am talking to one of the busiest people in existence at the moment (engineering student with midterms and a music career) but why does every conversation we have feel like this at the end

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[felassan]

Some Bluesky posts by David Gaider:

David Gaider: "So prepare yourself for another series of threads (easy to ignore that way, if you're not so inclined) where I discuss the journey - from leaving BioWare and then Beamdog, to doing what seemed impossible and starting the studio, to now!" [x]

DG: "The Road to Summerfall - Part 2 I guess the best place to start is with leaving BioWare. Right off the bat, I'll say I enjoyed working there - a lot. Until I didn't. I started in 1999 with BG2 and ended in 2016, 2 years after shipping DAI and after spending a year on the game which became Anthem." [x]

Rest of post is under a cut due to length.

"Things at Bio felt like they were at their height when the Doctors (Ray & Greg, the founders) were still there. We made RPG's, full stop. We made them well. Sure, there were some shitty parts... some which I didn't realize HOW shitty they were until after I left, but I'd never worked anywhere else." [x] "To me, things like the bone-numbing crunch and the mis-management were simply how things were done. I was insulated from a lot of it, too, I think. On the DA team, I had my writers (and we were a crack unit) and I had managers who supported and empowered me. Or indulged me. I'm not sure which, tbh." [x] "It's funny that Mike Laidlaw becoming Creative Director was one of the best working experiences I had there, as initially it was one of the Shitty Things. You see, when Brent Knowles left in 2009, I felt like I was ready to replace him. This was kinda MY project, after all, and who else was there?" [x]

"Well, it turned out this coincided with the Jade Empire 2 team being shut down, and their staff was being shuffled to the other teams. Mike had already been tapped to replace Brent... Mike, a writer. Who I'd helped train. There wasn't even a conversation. When I complained, the reaction? Surprise." [x] "It was the first indication that Bio's upper management just didn't think of me in That Way. That Lead Writer was as far as I was ever getting in that company, and there was a way of Doing Things which involved buddy politics that... I guess I just never quite keyed into. I was bitter, I admit it." [x] "But, like I said, this turned out well. Mike WAS the right pick, damn it. He had charisma and drive, and he even won me over. We worked together well, and I think DA benefited for it. I think I'd still be at Bio, or have stayed a lot longer, but then I made my first big mistake: leaving Dragon Age." [x]

"See, we'd finished DAI in 2014 and I was beginning to feel the burn out coming on. DAI had been a grueling project, and I really felt like there was only so long I could keep writing stories about demons and elves and mages before it started to become rote for me and thus a detriment to the project." [x] "Plus, for the first time I had in Trick Weekes someone with the experience and willingness they could replace me. So I told Mike I thought it was time I moved onto something else... and he sadly let me go. So, for a time, the question became which of the other two BioWare teams I'd move onto." [x] "Both needed a Lead Writer. Mass Effect Andromeda was just gearing up, and while I liked everyone out in Montreal I didn't really want to move. So I joined the new project that the former Mass Effect team in Edmonton was cooking up - the one that became Anthem but, at the time, was code-named Dylan." [x]

"That was a mistake. You see, the thing you need to know about BioWare is that for a long time it was basically two teams under one roof: the Dragon Age team and the Mass Effect team. Run differently, very different cultures, may as well have been two separate studios. And they didn't get along." [x] "The company was aware of the friction and attempts to fix it had been ongoing for years, mainly by shuffling staff between the teams more often. Yet this didn't really solve things, and I had no idea until I got to the Dylan team. The team didn't want me there. At all." [x] "Worse, until this point Dylan had been concepted as kind of a "beer & cigarettes" hard sci-fi setting (a la Aliens), and I'd been given instructions to turn it into something more science fantasy (a la Star Wars). Yet I don't think anyone told the team this. So they thought this change was MY doing." [x]

"I kept getting feedback about how it was "too Dragon Age" and how everything I wrote or planned was "too Dragon Age"... the implication being that *anything* like Dragon Age was bad. And yet this was a team where I was required to accept and act on all feedback, so I ended up iterating CONSTANTLY." [x] "I won't go into detail about the problems except to say it became clear this was a team that didn't want to make an RPG. Were very anti-RPG, in fact. Yet they wanted me to wave my magic writing wand and create a BioWare quality story without giving me any of the tools I'd need to actually do that." [x] "I saw the writing on the wall. This wasn't going to work. So I called up my boss and said that I'd stick it out and try my best, but only if there was SOMETHING waiting on the other side, where I could have more say as Creative Director. I wanted to move up. I was turned down flat, no hesitation." [x]

"That... said a lot. Even more when I was told that, while I could leave the company if I wanted to, I wouldn't have any success outside of BioWare. But in blunter words. So I quit." [x] "Was it easy? Hell no. I thought I'd end up buried under a cornerstone at Bio, honestly. I LIKE security. Sure, I'd dreamed of maybe starting my own studio, but that was a scary idea and I'd never pursued it. I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do, but I wanted OUT." [x] "Which led to me at home after my last day, literally having a nervous breakdown, wondering what kind of idiot gives up a "good job". How was a writer, of all things, with no real interest in business supposed to start his own studio? It felt apocalyptic. Within a year, however, I was on my way." [x]

[original thread, following thread]

Follow-up Q&A Bluesky posts:

User: "Were David Gaider still at Bioware, I am certain you would have showed us exactly how Mythal was transferred to Morrigan. You would have paid off on all those years of growth since DAO" David Gaider: "You can be certain I would have *wanted* to, for sure. Whether I'd have been able to is something not even I can be certain of. During my time at BioWare, I had to settle for less-than-ideal results lots of times - that's just how it goes, when it comes to making games." [x]

User: "jesus fuck that is a revolting way to treat any employee" DG: "The thing that got to me most was the apparent assumption that I needed "success". That this was the most important thing to me, to work on projects that sold millions of copies. I like that, sure, who wouldn't? But he obviously didn't know me at all." [x]

User: "Could you elaborate on the anti-RPG sentiment? Was it like the team didn't want narrative choices or game mechanics that affected dialogue? Did they even want dialogue choices?" DG: "There has always been an element within Bio that quietly resented the idea we could never quite get away from being a studio that "just" made RPG's and that our writing was more celebrated than our action. So, yes: more action, less story, less cinematics, and less dialogue all around." [x]

User: "I mean, that's the team (Ship of Theseus!) that made ME2, right? ME2, which was like ME1 if you added more loyalty quests, more romance options, and made the good ending more dependent on doing the loyalty quests?" DG: "When I say an "element within BioWare", I don't mean the entire team... we're talking about a group of devs, many of which worked on ME2 yes, who gained traction because their views likely aligned with what EA also wanted. Speculation on my part, largely, because I wasn't on that team until Dylan." [x]

User: "Gods that is some really shitty corporate culture to say 'You'll ammount to nothing outside of Bioware!'." DG: "From some perspectives, I haven't. I make indie games that sell thousands of copies, and from a triple-A perspective that's... basically nothing. But I'm happy, I enjoy what I'm doing, and I feel creatively fulfilled. Not everyone thinks those things equate with success, though." [x]

User: "Hold up. Jade Empire was gonna get a sequel? How did that not happen?" DG: "The team worked on it for quite a while. First it was Jade Empire 2, and then they rebooted it as a different game altogether which was kind of "modern Jade Empire but minus anything Asian"... and then they cancelled it. Happens a lot to projects as they spin up." [x]

User: "What do you think began the conflict between the Dragon Age and Mass Effect team?" DG: "I honestly have no idea. Competition for resources, I suppose? One team's plans were always being cut short because the other team suddenly needed all their team members for an upcoming release." [x] User: "That makes sense. I can't imagine how it must feel to have your project side lined or reduced because of another team. Do you think the ME team were more entitled because they perceived their franchise as having a bigger cultural impact?" DG: "I never got that sense, though I was never in the meetings where these things were hashed out. They tended to always get what they needed, however, because EA always expected that each ME game had way more *potential* for huge sales than DA did." [x]

User: "Wow.... this makes so much awful, shifty sense. It has seemed to me, from the outside, that there has been a preference for ME over DA. The launch of DATV and the residual layoffs seemed more of a hit job from inside than just a troll problem." DG: "While I was at BioWare, EA *always* preferred Mass Effect, straight up Their Marketing team liked it more. It was modern. It had action. They never quite knew what to do with DA, and whenever DA outperformed ME, ME got the excuses. If you ask me, it was always just shy of the axe since DA Origins." [x] User: "Can I ask a follow-up question ? Is them not knowing what to do with DA the reason why every DA game was different ? While I love all the games I've always wondered where that originated from" DG: "Maybe in part? I'd say the biggest reason was that, while I was there, the BioWare teams were bad at overreaction. They'd take the feedback/criticism to heart - both our own and the fans' - and generally fixed that but also overcorrected. And then there was EA's influence on top of that, yes." [x]

User: "Is that why DA games never got a remaster/remake?" DG: "There's a lot more that goes into such a question, I'd say, though I honestly have no idea. I can't imagine it helped." [x] User: "Do you feel EA will perhaps sell off DA to another developer like Larian (Baulders Gate) or Playground (Fable)? Considering the reception of Inquisition and Veilguard?" DG: "I suppose anything is possible, but to me it seems unlikely if EA thinks there's any chance they might just sit on the IP until they can reboot it later on." [x]

User: "I've always gotten that vibe from the games department, yet I also saw Dragon Age getting a LOT more attention than Mass Effect when it came to the peripheral material like books, comics, lore books, etc. Do you know why?" DG: "I don’t think that was ever true? ME was so much easier with logo branding, and the N7 hoodie was ACE. 😅" [x]

User: "Was there ever any pressure put on the DA team to move away from RPGs?" DG: "Not initially. Initially Ray & Greg said they were fine with having two different styles of RPGs. After they left, there was pressure to emulate ME more and more because, again, it was the “future”." [x]

User: "May I ask for timeframe? Did you work on Joplin at all, or did you move before it even entered planning stage?" DG: "Joplin wasn’t really being worked on while I was still there. The DA team was finishing the last of the DAI DLCs." [x]

User: "i don't think it was just EA, was it? i recall several instances of ray muzyka praising mass effect in interviews or open letters but i don't recall once him doing it for dragon age." DG: "I can’t say. Ray was a big fantasy fan, so I doubt it." [x]

DG: "In terms of the remasters, I suspect the major difference between the two wasn’t favouritism but rather the engine. All three ME games were made in Unreal." [x]

User: "If you stayed, would you be able to persuade BioWare/EA to push DA4 on the success of DAI or would it be cancelled/delayed like Veilguard did?" DG: "I was a sub-lead, not even a senior lead. I would have had as much influence as I did when I was there, which is to say very little." [x]

User: "Anytime I see ex-BioWare people talk about Anthem, I can’t help but wonder if that game should have been axed early on - it never felt much like a BioWare game, even in the marketing. Or would you say that the game itself could have been fine, but it was the management of the IP that was the issue?" DG: "The initial version I worked on still had some RPG in it, but you could see where the winds were blowing. I think the team leads just convinced themselves it was good and would all work out somehow. Through “BioWare magic”, I guess." [x]

User: "Every time I hear about this or see it, it always sounds like the ME team were just a-holes. No great way but to say it bluntly. Nothing to be done." DG: "I wouldn’t say that. Most of them were lovely. We were always competing for very finite resources, however." [x]

[original thread, following thread]

[distantdarlings]

A FAMILIAR ACHE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.2K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* It’s been a week since you broke up with your boyfriend, Theodore Nott, but the urge to resist him is getting harder and harder.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V) unprotected, mean!Theo, dom!Theo, sub!Reader, fem reader, oral (f!receiving), (1) spank, very light bondage, degradation, bit of praise, name-calling, choking (f!receiving), descriptions of fem masturbation (but no actual), slight voyeruism, Theo keeps pushing even when the reader says no (but she’s mainly just teasing him, not actually disinterested), language, not proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey (have I already used this song?)

- - -

You were fucked. Absolutely, totally, royally fucked. Everything that had led up to this moment implied that you’d be totally okay without Theo. But you were so very wrong.

It had been a week since you’d broken it off with him. His flirtatious, possessive nature had finally pushed you to your limit, and you’d called it quits.

You had thought you’d be okay, but you were wrong. You needed him—more now than you ever did before. The ache that filled your chest and your stomach and everything in between was becoming too much to bear. He was a jerk, but he was your jerk. And, right now, you were fidgeting in class from the amount of desire coursing through your veins. And it was all due to the boy sitting across from you.

He was watching you with those oceanic eyes, just as he always did—with a lidded, demanding stare. And if the two of you were still together, you would know that it meant you would be begging for mercy later today. But you weren’t together, and he was only doing it now to fuck with you.

He obviously hadn’t wanted to break up. That day, he’d sworn that he’d change everything about him you didn’t like. But you’d heard that lie one too many times. Every time you threatened to leave him, he pulled up that old story. That he loved you and would do whatever it took to keep you. But he’d proven time and time again that he was incapable of keeping his eyes and hands off other girls.

You knew that this was the right thing to have done, but you couldn’t help it. The want he forced into you was too much. You were too weak to handle it.

But you couldn’t break—you couldn’t run back to him like you did every single time. It was pathetic, how much you depended on him. And the way he looked at you now, he knew that you’d be coming home soon.

By the time the professor was announcing the end of class and you were gathering your things to head back to your dorm, Theo was brushing past you like he hadn’t even known you.

You were shocked at his nonchalance toward you and barely was able to keep your jaw from flying open. You almost wanted to say something to him, but you kept your mouth shut.

He was obviously just trying to get under your skin. The shitty thing was that it seemed to be working so far.

You cleared your throat and attempted to hide the blush on your cheeks by staring down at the floor as you got ready to leave the room.

If he was waiting for you to come sprinting back to him, he’d be disappointed. He was going to have to come back to you this time, or you would be done with him permanently. Besides, the only way you’d ever actually take him back now, was if he truly changed his ways—which was unlikely.

You rolled your eyes at the effect the stupid boy was having on you before deciding to head back to the dorm. With the heat that was running through your body, you figured it’d be smart just to take the rest of the day off.

Perhaps Theo was burning just as much for you as you were him. That thought kept you a bit calmer as you stopped before the entrance to your dormitory, whispered the password, then pushed through.

You jogged up the stairs with nothing but your bed and Theo in your mind. Unfortunately, that tended to usually be what was on your mind when your head was whirling and your stomach was hot.

No one else would be in the dorm at this time of day. One locked door and a slip beneath your satin sheets would have you completely set for the next few days.

As pathetic as it was, you had been insanely dependent on Theo in more than one way. Besides emotionally, no one had ever taken such perfect care of you sexually…and you feared that no one ever would.

It was almost as if he knew your body more than even you did. But you were just going to have to work for now.

You burst through the door of your dorm, murmured a quick locking spell, and sprinted toward your bed. All of your things dropped from your hands in the wake of your rushing body, clattering loudly and echoing like a drum. But nothing compared to the volume of your heart pounding in your ears.

A quick glance around the room allowed you to see that it was completely empty, just waiting to capture your suppressed moans like a net of stone.

Your stomach twirled with anticipation as you jumped onto your bed. In a rushed manner, you dropped your skirt down, leaving your stockings the only thing covering your legs. You loosened your tie, and ripped your shirt apart, allowing the cold air to caress your bare skin.

The only thing remaining on your buzzing body was an intact bra and bottoms, your loose stockings, and the ghost of Theo’s tongue and teeth.

You sighed aloud as you slipped beneath the sheets, letting the swirling material cool your hot flesh. If you could have, you’d have thought you’d start steaming.

“Fuck,” you shuddered, letting your hands slide down your aching hips. Nothing felt like Theo but you knew that you were the closest substitute.

One hand inched down towards your lacy bottoms, while the other toyed with your chest through the fabric of your bra. The rough material scraped against your nipples just enough to pull them into a standing position.

You’d only been here seconds, but a thin sheen of sweat had graced across your chest.

As your fingers began to slip beneath your pantyline, a choked moan left your lips as you granted yourself the relief you’d been waiting for ever since Theo’s eyes had met yours.

It was fucking stupid how dangerously he affected you.

And just as the tips of your fingers had begun to sink into your core, the door flew open with a force like lightning.

You gasped loudly and scrambled to cover your body with your blankets.

“What the hell?” you shrieked, your hair gathering around your face messily.

Through the curtains draped over the canopy on your bed, you glimpses Theo walking toward your bed.

“Hello, darling,” he purred. His eyes met yours cruelly as he dragged them up the length of your scantily covered body.

Your uniform shirt was still wrapped around your elbows and your tie settled loosely between your cleavage. The air still kissed the tops of your thighs.

He eyed you like a predator, and you watched him like prey as he circled ever closer. He stopped at the foot of the bed.

“Theo, you need to leave,” you whispered, your body practically vibrating with want. His scent was beginning to curl around your nose, threatening to overtake you as if you were drowning. It took everything in you not to tackle him.

“Mm, tesoro,” he breathed. His fingers slipped down to brush against your bare ankle. The contact pulled a gasp from you, and you quickly yanked your leg away from him. “I’m surprised you haven’t begged me to take you back yet.”

“I beg you?” you scoffed. “You should be begging me! You’ve treated me like shit ever since we got back together last time.”

“No, my love,” he said, beginning to slowly move around the edge of the bed. “It’s nothing to do with you, you know I just like to flirt a little.”

“That’s not okay, Theo! Why would that be okay?”

“You could flirt a little too, if you wanted,” he suggested. He was now standing over you, just to your right. “I know Mattheo’s been dying to get a taste of you. And I wouldn’t mind sharing…just a bit.”

Your stomach burned with his words. Your core seeped with excitement as every cursed syllable twisted its way into your mind.

Still, you refused to say anything. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by begging him to take you like you wanted him to.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your ear.

“Come on, baby,” he growled. “Take me back and let me fuck you. I can smell how badly you want me.”

His words sent shivers down your arms. He huffed a laugh against your neck as he trailed the top of his nose from your temple down to your collarbone.

Your eyes slipped shut at the feeling as you wondered how you always got yourself into this situation. Every single time you’d gotten away from Theo, you always fell right back into his hands. It was like a game to him.

“It’s alright, darling. Let me take care of you. We’ll forget about all this. Everything will go back to the way it was, except I promise I won’t flirt with anyone else.”

Merlin, wasn’t that what he always said? Wasn’t that the very thing you swore he’d say? You should be running away. Why weren’t you?

Because the bend of his knuckle was creeping over your nipple, slowly and easily. You gasped slightly at the sensation. He knew what he was doing. He always knew.

“That’s it, my girl,” he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Fuck, he was perfect at making you like him again. That was the way he’d locked you in in the first place.

“Now, my love,” he said against your skin. “What was it you were going to do to yourself?”

You said nothing, your eyes still clenched shut, still trying to refuse his seduction.

“What was it you were going to do while thinking of me?” His fingers slipped down your chest and traced the lines of your stomach.

Once he’d reached your panty line, he traced the edges of the thin lace, allowing the scratchy material to rub against his skin. The slight noise that echoed from the motion had you lightheaded.

His finger gently slipped beneath the waistband and tugged on them just a bit, pulling the bottoms up against your core. The sensation pushed black spots in front of your eyes.

“Fuck, Theo,” you whispered, a whine building up in your throat.

“Just tell me what you need,” he sighed against your cheek, “and I’m all yours.”

“Swear you won’t flirt with any other girls,” you demanded, eyes finally opening to meet his cold stare.

“I already did, my love,” he chuckled.

“Swear it again, Theo! Please! All I want is for you to be for me only.” You begged him with a clenched fist against his chest.

“I’m only for you, bella,” Theo smiled. “Can I fuck you now? Please, baby. Please? Just say the words, my love. Please, let me fuck you. I want to make you feel so good.” He begged relentlessly.

“Yes.”

And he was breathing a sigh against your lips, then pressing them to his. His tongue was slipping between your teeth and messily claiming your mouth just as he always did. Your lips were panting his name through choked syllables as his fingers were pushing further into your bottoms.

He was lifting you with his free hand and scooting you over so he could take his place beside you on the bed. He was separating his mouth from yours, only to start kissing down your neck. Then his tongue was on your collarbone, then your clothed breast, then your stomach, then your covered core.

He was swirling his mouth over you and marking you so beautifully.

Your fingers were curling into his hair as he consumed you through your bottoms, teeth scraping and tongue dripping.

You were breathlessly whining his name to the cold air, begging to be heard by anyone around. Your knuckles were turning white as he pushed his hot mouth farther against you.

Then he was pulling away and helping you slip out of your bottoms. He was quickly replacing his mouth against you again, the lack of material in between you and his lips now sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your back arched against him, pleading for more.

Then he was turning you on your stomach, and letting the cold air hit your sweating back. His fingers massaged your ass roughly as he pushed your hips forward to see his dirty work covering your core. The beginnings of your finish mixed with his spit slid down through your folds. The sight alone had his pants tightening significantly.

“So beautiful, my love,” he whispered. With the hand that held your hips forward, he brushed his thumb down your core, marveling at the way you reacted so vividly.

His free hand trailed up your spine until he reached the back of your neck. He pushed your face roughly into the pillow. You whimpered at the sudden aggression.

“I hope that what I’m about to give you will teach you not to fucking break up with me,” he growled into your ear, all of the sugar in his voice completely dissipated.

You knew this was coming. It always did.

He slammed his hand down against your ass cheek, the pain rippling up your back and down your thigh. You screamed into the pillows, your fingers gripping into the fabric.

His hands wrapped around the tie still dangling around your neck, and yanked your head back to rest against his chest. You yelped at the sudden movement, the force of the tie pressing tightly against your throat.

Tears threatened the edge of your eyes. “I’m sorry, Theo.”

“Oh, it’s too late for ’sorry,’ baby.”

He dropped the tie and your face fell back into the pillows. His hands wrapped meanly around your hips and he yanked you closer to him.

With rough hands, you could hear him undoing his belt and yanking his pants down around his knees. He pulled your body up by the waist, pulling you into an awkward position. Your breasts and throat still pressed roughly into the mattress, but your hips were smashed against Theo’s now bare core. He was hot and heavy against you, enough to make you shudder at the sensation.

He grabbed your wrists from where your arms were flailed flimsily above you, and pulled them tight behind your back. With one large, structured hand, he clutched both of your wrists together, and pinned them against your lower back.

“You want me, baby? Is that what you want? Yeah?”

“Yeah…,” you whined, tears trailing down your cheeks. Because despite the pain and the malice Theo exuded, it never failed to turn you on so painfully. This was the kind of love you wanted, yet couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah? Yeah? Beg for it, bitch. Beg for it a week after you said you didn’t need it.”

“Please, Theo,” you moaned. “Please, baby, I need you so bad. Please, I was wrong!”

“That’s it,” he chuckled meanly. “Such a good girl.”

And then he’s collecting all of the moisture around himself then pushing into you in one smooth movement. His hand is clenching around your arms and the tension is stretching your shoulders so far, they burn.

You could taste salt from your cheeks and lust from the fingers that he suddenly shoved into your mouth. You gagged around them pitifully as he forced more stimulation on you than he ever had before.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned, letting his hips sink deeper into you with every thrust. He kept you occupied from every angle, even going so far as to trap your legs tightly together between his own. You were secured and you couldn’t move. But why was it so perfect?

“Merlin, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he murmured. The pace he was beginning to set threatened to unravel you within the next few breaths. Every push of his hips against your core had your legs trembling and chills shooting across your arms.

“You think you can just leave me and move on? Huh? You think someone else could fuck you like this?” he demanded, bordering a shout.

You shook your head as well as you could with his fingers still curled against your tongue, reddened cheeks scratching across the mattress.

“Use your words, baby. Who could fuck you like this?” He freed your mouth.

“You! Nobody else, Theo! Just you!”

And he was quickening his pace and holding every part of you tighter. With the hand he’d just pulled from between your lips, he slipped around you and began to rub tight circles across your clitoris, allowing the last wave of pleasure to build to a height it’d never reached before, then crash down over you.

And you were coming all over your legs and his dick, and it felt better than anything he’d ever given you before.

You were screaming his name tied in with a refrain of curses and swears. It was the most pleasures he’d ever made you feel and, if it weren’t for the burning in your arms, and the eyes rolling back into your head, you’d have imagined it was a dream.

Once he had milked your spend, he was pulling out of you and flipping you over onto your back. He seemed to have no regard for the deep ache echoing in your entire lower half due to his violent assault of your core.

He reentered you as quickly as he’d pulled out, lighting your abdomen on fire. You helped at the sensation, the oversensitivity burning in your core.

“I’m going to come in you, sweet girl,” he said, placing his hands over your nipples. “Just to remind you who you belong to.”

His thrusts quickened and quickened before they slowly began to become sloppy, hips clapping lazily against the backs of your thighs. Then his built abdomen was tensing and his eyes were rolling back.

You were crying out his name and begging him to paint your insides, and he was groaning and releasing into you at a rate you’d never seen him do before.

Then he was collapsing onto your chest, bodies still within the other, while you planted unevenly.

“If you ever break up with me again, I’ll do the same thing but worse.” he murmured against your chest.

“Then you shouldn’t flirt with other girls,” you argued. “It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t flirt with other girls, I just talk to them.”

“That is not the truth, Theo,” you scoffed, glancing down at him. Despite your annoyance with his words, your fingers still rose to caress his curls.

“I would just appreciate it if you didn’t do that any longer,” you explained. “Anything that could possibly be mistaken for flirting, just don’t do.”

“Oh, yeah? Or what? It’s not like I can’t just pull a couple orgasms out of you, and snatch you right back up.”

He glanced up at you, chin resting on your chest and eyes staring meanly.

“If you flirt with another girl ever again, I’m going to let Mattheo get that taste you were mentioning earlier.”

- - -

Tag List:

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[0-n-1-x]

sooooo, I was up late and had an idea. What if Damian Wayne and you were so good at keeping the whole dating thing a secret that you had to try to convince his family that you guys were actually dating?

this is a little drabble i wrote very late at night/ slight crack fic

love this idea !! damian would def do the most if he wanted to keep it a secret

link to my masterlist <33

After months of carefully sneaking around, you and Damian decide it’s time to come clean to his family. But when you sit down at Wayne Manor with Bruce, Alfred, and the rest of the family to announce, "Damian and I are dating," their reactions are pure skepticism. Bruce raises an eyebrow, Tim stifles a laugh, and even Alfred, in his dry British manner, politely expresses his doubt.

“I think you’ll have to try harder than that. Damian? Dating? I’ve never even seen any evidence.” his father muttered, continuing his work on some digital file.

Tim might be the most vocal, launching into his usual detective mode. “If you’re dating, how come there’s no sign of it? No phone records, no public outings, no paparazzi shots. You two are way too clean for a public relationship.”

You and Damian exchange a look—your efforts to avoid detection were a little too effective.

Damian grows more frustrated by the minute. He’s usually calm and composed, but the fact that his family thinks he’s lying gets under his skin. "Do I need to prove it to you? This is absurd.". He had tried to tell Dick and Jason in the training room, to no avail

Dick chimed in with a laugh as he sent another punch towards the second oldest, "Come on, Damian. No offense, but you’re not exactly the relationship type. It's not that we don't want to believe you, but this sounds a little... far-fetched."

Jason joined the banter with, "Wait, does this mean someone can actually tolerate you?"

At this point, you and Damian realize you’ll have to convince them through some carefully chosen stories. You mention times you and Damian spent together, romantic gestures he’s made that are so Damian. Like the time he stealthily followed you on a dangerous outing to make sure you were safe, or when he read you passages from classical literature because he knows you love books.

Still, the family isn't buying it. They demand more 'concrete' evidence, so you end up showing the saved texts, or even a picture or two that you’ve been hiding from everyone else (to Damian's dismay). It’s only then that they start considering it might be real.

Tim still puzzled, asks for more details because he can’t wrap his mind around how you kept everything under wraps so flawlessly, even through his skills.

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[dronningreid]

All the times I knew you

A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[lych33dragoncookie]

Only the masterpieces that survive the fiercest flames earn their place in history.

(Analysis post)

Alright, they absolutely cooked this update. Like, undeniably so. I was admittedly not that huge of a fan of the last 2 beast yeast chapters we got; they had really good ideas, and Mystic Flour is a wonderful character, but... Dark Cacao hasn't really been done enough with for it to feel like it had the amount of weight it could have, and it really doesn't feel like much about him actually changed at all. Combine that with a complete lack of interesting dynamics and you have a lot of very good and genuinely pretty well thought out story concepts with extensive cultural research, executed in a way that feels more like a traditional old-school story that weakens the attachment the audience feels to the components of said story.

Here, though? I have no complaints so far. It was absolutely wild in fact, to the point where I don't think it's gonna happen again (nor am I entirely sure it should ever happen again). This was back to back, non-stop, smack to the face one after the other. The moment the first point of conflict came up, it was just shit happening left and right; even in the mandatory moment of rest where we chill out for a bit, it's revealed that hey, these sandstorms? Yeah the sand is actually ashes. It's the remains of all the people that live here. Whether they died off on their own or were killed by someone else.

And if that wasn't enough, very shortly after;

... It's fucking crack.

So, people die and kill each other here very frequently, and not only are their remains visibly on display, their ashes also become sandstorms that make it near impossible to navigate the land; on top of being something that people snort like cocaine to become more energetic and aggressive.

We started fucking wild, dude. This whole thing is pulling no punches.

Though, I do wanna note; I really, really enjoyed the interactions between Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese. It shows not only how forgiving she is, but how these two have known each other for an incredibly long time, and know each other well. They're incredibly comfortable around each other, despite it all, and despite how brazen and Very Much Not Strategic the queen here can be. I really, really enjoyed them.

Always fun to see a recovering villain do things for good, but in their own unique way that's still not exactly heroic but definitely effective and, at times, very gratifying.

Though I enjoyed all this, there's one thing I wanna talk about above all else.

The star of the show. Note that every single part was enjoyable, of course, and he wouldn't be half as interesting without Golden Cheese Cookie to serve as a parallel, but they've cooked up something special here.

So far, Burning Spice's extent of onscreen appearance is very, very short, but... I don't think I need to tell you that he's already made an impact and a half.

Christ, that's violent. With the sound effects and everything too, god damn. But, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a pretty superficial source of judgement for this character. It's very very telling of what kind of person he is now, what he's all about, what he's willing to do, what he likes doing, but...

More than anyone else in recent memory, the devil is in the details. So let's look at those details.

Nothing too much so far, other than how much he absolutely loves destruction, but there's already a trend; namely on "Nothing lasts forever. It's as simple as that", "In the end, everything becomes dust.", and "You, too, shall see that destruction is the only way.". There seems to be an infatuation with the natural process of everything fading away, turning to dust and dying out. An entirely honest one, believing that there is just about nothing else to life. These will be important to keep in mind.

Here, we see a bit of his current relationship with his own immortality. He doesn't seem to mind the idea of losing it, finding something that may eventually take him down, but he still takes great pride in it. These lines, in text, seem somewhat miserable (and trust me, they definitely are), but the voicework in just about every language conveys that they are said in a more neutral, even potentially proudly manner. Again, not much on their own, but...

Here's where we get into the fun part.

This. This is the crux of their character. At the start, him and Golden Cheese cookie were more or less the same. Benevolent royalty, close and personal with their subjects. Beloved, and loving.

And then, they lost it all.

One way or another, their kingdoms were lost, reduced to almost nothing. They were overcome by grief, desperate, unable to cope with their loss. One tried to latch on as hard as possible. Preserve what she could, blindly, replacing the harsh truth of reality with an idealized, constructed world, where no one would ever have to know pain ever again. She shut herself off, and retreated in the safety and peace of a false reality. She would rather have lied to both herself and all her subjects than face reality. And eventually, she had to learn to move on. Let herself and her kingdom heal more naturally, facing reality. The other, meanwhile, was desperate to let go. He detached himself, trying to move past the pain of loss. But, of course, he couldn't force it to happen. No one can. And so with the grief of losing that which he held dear, continuing to be faced with the reality that nothing is forever, over and over, while he endured, the world slowly turning to ash around them again and again... It's no wonder something in there eventually cracked.

What will it take to destroy me. Nothing is forever, and yet, I am.

Nothing is forever. And yet, I am.

With time, misery turned to mania, and in an attempt to overcome their grief, they embraced it, in the worst way possible. A coping mechanism gone horrendously wrong. That destruction, that loss, the inevitability of death... It's not painful, no. It doesn't have to be. It can be thrilling. Exhilarating. A new reason to live. If all you care about turns to dust anyways, if that's really the only logical destination... Why not have some fun with it? Why not embody that inevitable, unstoppable force? Why not become what you fear, so you no longer have to be afraid anymore?

... You know, at least that's what I think is going on here. The next chapter could contradict this reading, but... From what all we have right now, it seems like Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are two completely different paths for the exact same type of pain. They are, in a way, the same, but diverge in almost complete opposite ways where it counts.

Spice is genuinely equal parts absolutely terrifying and absolutely miserable; a balance that is incredibly hard to strike in writing, but always absolutely fascinating and wonderful to observe when it happens. I have to say, the more I found out about them, the more I couldn't keep my eyes off everything they have going on.

I'm loving every little bit of this update. Mad props to the devs for cooking something up here that I am genuinely incredibly invested in, almost to the same degree as White Lily and Dark Enchantress. Banger update. Absolute S tier material.

TL;DR: Burning Spice is terrifying, miserable, and ridiculously cool. Everything about this update was an absolute merciless flurry of consecutive gut-punches. And I loved every second of it.

... Now we sit and wait for Shadow Milk's release next year.

[redhrs]

Sharp Edges, Part 2 - Sylus x Reader

synopsis— With 24 hours to steal his brooch, you’re trapped in a battle of wit and temptation. But Sylus isn’t just guarding the prize— he’s breaking your resolve, one touch at a time. inspired by Midnight Stealth.

word count— 2.9k~

warnings— 18+, smut, angst, slow burn, nsfw, drunk sex, hate sex, ennemies to lovers, rivalry, dom!sylus, making out, aphrodisiac wine, fem!reader, reader is confident, teasing, edging, dry humping, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, choking, sylus is needy asf, reader is horny and lowkey desperate, rough sex, porn with plot, voyeurism

minors don’t interact!

🎧 Coming Down - The Weeknd

Next thing you know, you're thrown onto his bed, your face pressing against the mattress with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. You try to sit up, but his Evol is restraining you, holding you in place, preventing you from moving as you want.

You give in, your body half-resting on your knees, half-laying down, your face turned toward him. The feeling of helplessness churns something inside you, and yet, you can't deny how much it turns you on. It frustrates you, but you can't tear your eyes away from him.

You catch glimpses of his still half-naked figure, your gaze traveling down his body, breath hitching at the sight of his growing bulge.

"What are you doing? Let me go"

You whisper, your voice barely audible, anticipation in it more than you care to admit.

Sylus doesn't answer right away. Instead, he moves closer, walking with slow, measured steps as he grabs the silky pants and shirt lying on the bed. He turns to you with a sly grin, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I should be the one asking you that"

He taunts,

"What are you doing in my room, this late at night? Want to tell me a bedtime story?"

A low, dark chuckle escapes him—devoid of amusement, laced with something far more dangerous.

Then, without a word, he turns away, the towel slipping from his waist in an unhurried, deliberate fall, baring every inch of him to the dim, flickering light.

You roll your eyes, but it’s a weak attempt at defiance. Your gaze betrays you, dragging over him, catching on every sharp line and glistening muscle.

"Don't pretend you don't know why I'm here"

You scoff, your voice steadier this time, but the rapid beat of your heart betrays you as the tension in the air thickens.

You shift, turning your body onto your side so you face him. Your wrists, tied behind your back, are starting to ache from the pressure of his Evol, but you don't care. You're lost in him, your entire focus on his figure as he moves, the grace of his every motion burning into your mind.

When he glances at you from over his shoulder, a sly smile spreading across his lips, something in your chest tightens. You know he's aware of the effect he has on you, and the way he looks at you, almost taunting, makes the heat between your legs grow stronger.

"Look at you"

He says, stepping toward you,

"All caught up in the spider's web. What are you gonna do now? Crawl around looking for the brooch?"

He's right in front of you now, his presence overwhelming, his scent invading you, intoxicating and all-consuming.

You whimper involuntarily as his finger trails up your leg, moving slowly, teasing, until it reaches the dagger, the one your dress no longer hides. He stops there for a moment, his eyes scanning you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on your lower body. The way his eyes linger on the black lace of your thong makes your pulse spike, and you see the hunger flash in his eyes.

"What a cute knife"

He purrs, his voice low and taunting,

"Were you hoping to intimidate me with it?"

He uses the dagger to push your hair away from your face, the cold metal against your heated skin making you shiver, before tossing the blade aside onto the floor. Without a word, he settles on the bed, lying on his side as his fingers trace a slow path along your cheek.

His velvety voice drapes over you like silk, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths across your skin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game”

He murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours,

“I’m curious to see how far you can go.”

"So you lied. Making me believe I can find that damn brooch in twenty-four hours while you're just entertaining yourself watching me struggle."

You snap, your voice sharp as frustration bubbles over,

"I knew I couldn't trust you. But I didn't think you were a man of cheap words."

Sylus expression darkens, his brows furrowing as he grabs your jaw, his grip tight and possessive. His thumb glides over your lower lip, firm and slow.

"You should watch your mouth, kitten"

He says, voice cold and dominant.

“Don't say something you might regret."

You’re laying on your back now, knees raised, looking directly at him as he hovers over you, his finger playing with your lip. Your heart races as you feel your sense of self-respect and dignity slipping away.

Before you even realize it, you find yourself grazing your teeth over his thumb, biting down just lightly enough for him to feel it. The tension between you snaps in an instant, and Sylus almost loses control when he feels your tongue brush against his finger. His eyes darken, and you can feel the raw desire that flickers in him, just barely contained.

His hand slips to your throat, curling just enough to coax a soft moan from your lips. His breathing is uneven now, heavy with the weight of restraint, his hard cock aching under the tightness of his pants.

"Why are you so harsh on me?"

You whine, your lashes fluttering up at him, feigning innocence though every movement of your body betrays you.

“I know you love watching me struggle, but this time… can you just let it go? Please?”

He should push you away before he loses himself completely. But the way your part lips glisten, the way you squeeze your thighs together, trembling under him, your eyes clouded with lust like you need him just as much— He’s biting his lip so hard it could tear the skin apart.

Sylus exhales sharply, his grip on your throat loosening just enough for his fingers to drag along your skin before he pulls away. His entire body is wound too tight, his self-control fraying with every second you spend under his touch, looking at him like that.

He needs a drink.

His hand moves blindly to the side, fingers swirling around the wine bottle resting next to the bed. He brings it to his lips without a second thought, tilting it back as he takes a long, burning sip. A few drops escape, rolling down his jaw, his throat, trailing over his collarbone before disappearing into the hollow of his chest.

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, eyes glinting as they settle back on you. The wine does nothing to cool the fire in his veins. If anything, it makes it worse.

And you—gods, you watch him like you want to taste the drops that slipped past his lips. Like you’d rather drink from him instead.

"You've got 10 minutes"

He finally speaks, his voice low and raspy.

"Find it. If you don't... well, I'll leave you to think about your failure."

The invisible force binding you vanishes in an instant, and the sudden freedom almost feels strange. You take a breath, sitting up slowly, rubbing at the faint marks on your wrists.

You stay still for a moment, as if grounding yourself, but your mind is already elsewhere. You glance at Sylus. He's leaning back against the headboard, the wine bottle now resting loosely in his grip. His lips are slightly parted, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but his eyes— they watch you with sharp amusement, glistening with anticipation, waiting to see what you'll do next.

You could take the safe route, pretend like your body isn't still thrumming from everything that just happened. You could walk away, put some distance between you two before you lose yourself for real.

Or…

Your decision is made before you even fully process it.

You shift forward, swinging a leg over his lap until you're straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. The change in position wipes the smirk right off his face. His amusement flickers into something darker, something heavier, and you can feel the tension coil between you like a live wire.

"Really?"

His voice, deep and husky from the wine, rakes over you—rough, consuming—making your whole body tingle, the low vibrations of his tone heading straight to your core.

“You want to play this game?”

His hands remain at his sides, though you can see the way his fingers flex, resisting the urge to touch you.

"What are you talking about ?"

You tilt your head, playing dumb.

One of your hands comes to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin seeping into your palm. You can feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, strong and steady, but there's a hitch in the rhythm as you drag your touch downward.

"If the brooch’s nowhere to be found,"

You whisper, letting your fingers skim lower,

"then it has to be on you."

You trace your finger along the wine stains on his skin, keeping your eyes locked on his.

Sylus swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as his lips curve into a wicked grin.

"Oh, so you’re going to search me then?"

"That's the plan"

You say confidently.

He exhales a slow breath, his hands moving to your waist, settling there with a grip that's too firm.

"Well,"

He smirks, his tongue swiping across his lips,

"be my guest."

As your body presses against his, every part of you acutely aware of the heat radiating from him. Your fingers wander over his torso, each movements intense, teasing. You take your time- almost too much time, well aware of the way he watches you, unblinking, the hardness of his boner pressing into you as he pulls you even closer.

Sylus seizes your thighs, his fingers sinking in with a possessive, unyielding grip. The way he forces them more open, claiming the remaining space between you, leaves your mind dizzy and your pussy throbbing with anticipation and need.

"You think you'll find it this time ? Or are you just getting distracted by the view?”

You meet his gaze, a sly smile curving your lips as your fingers trace the waistband of his pants, continuing their exploration.

“I’ll find it”

You lean in, lips brushing over his ear,

“But aren’t you the one getting distracted here, Sylus? I can feel it, you know.”

With a subtle yet provocative shift of your hips, you grind into him, just enough to draw a low grunt from the man. His eyes flutter shut, the sharp spike of pleasure evident on his face as his breath catches in his throat.

Your smirk as you glance at the hardness of his throbbing cock underneath you. Your heart skips a beat when you look back up, the sight of his flushed face, head tilted back slightly, revealing the intensity of his desire. His eyes are nothing but deep, dark pools now, the red completely consumed by blown pupils, a raw hunger in them that you feel throughout your whole body.

“You look like a mess, Sylus.”

“Yeah?”

He laughs as if he’s savoring the moment, the corners of his lips curling into a dangerous smile,

“You really think you’re in control here, don’t you?”

You can’t suppress your moan as he press himself into you, a slow, intense thrust making soft whimpers escape from your mouth. You unconsciously lean in his touch, moving with him to feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal grinding against you.

Overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, you try to regain control, attempting to slow the intensity building between you. Your hands move feverishly across his body, touching every inch of him with urgency as time is running out.

“Where the fuck did you hide it?”

You pull on his hair, your voice sounding more indecent than desperate.

Hungry and determined to make you lose focus, Sylus tilts his head, planting heated, urgent kisses along your neck, each one deeper, harder, as his thrusts match the intensity. His grip on you is tighter, nails almost scratching the exposed part of your back.

“Mmh, I don’t know baby”

He grunts, one hand finding its way under your dress, playing with the fabric of your underwear. The sharp snap of the elastic makes you gasp, the sensation turning your head into a mix of pleasure and frustration. You tilt your head back as his lips move higher, nipping and sucking, dangerously close to your ear.

"Why don't you try lower?"

He suggests, his teeth grazing your lobe, the warmth of his breath mingling with the wetness of his lips.

“You— Fuck, I hate you so bad”

He chuckles as he suddenly let go of you.

“Your eyes and body seem to say otherwise though.”

Sylus leans back against the bedframe, watching you with that infuriating, knowing smirk, chest rising and falling in an unsteady pace. The loss of contact makes you ache, the need almost unbearable. He sees how you struggle to keep it together when you already look this wrecked, when he’s barely even touched you.

You decide to ignore him for your own sake, your fingers slipping lower, brushing along the fabric of his pants. When your hands graze the pocket that’s the closest to his throbbing member, you feel his muscles tense up beneath you, a sharp inhale escaping his lips.

"Careful"

He warns, his voice rough, nearly unrecognizable— wrecked with the same need and desire you feel burning inside of you.

"You might find more than what you're looking for."

You scoff, trying to keep your façade. You can’t loose focus now that you’re so close.

You go through the second pocket, palming him, then you feel it.

Your pulse hammers in your throat, but you don't let him get to you. Not now. You adjust, focusing, your fingers slipping where they need to be.

Just as you touch the edge of the brooch, his hand snaps around your wrist, yanking you closer, and suddenly you're pinned on top of him. The brooch is in your hand, but his own is wrapped around yours, trapping it against his chest, blocking you from opening it. His other arm wraps around your waist, keeping you right where he wants you.

"Got what you wanted?"

He taunts, voice dark and velvety, his breath warm against your lips.

Your frustration spikes, boiling over into something hot and reckless. You struggle against his grip, but it's useless—he's stronger, and worse, he's enjoying this. You glare down at him, chest heaving, every part of you burning with anger.

“Sylus, I swear if you don’t hand me that fucking—

“I’ll give it to you”,

He leans in, his lips ghosting over yours,

“But first, you’re going to take care of the mess you’ve made.”

You let out a laugh in disbelief. You are the one to blame now?

"Aah, I really do hate you"

The words leave your lips like a curse, but he just watches you, amused, infuriatingly patient. His gaze flickers—your eyes, your lips—slowly, like he’s waiting for you to snap.

And you do.

Your lips crash into his—raw, desperate, as you’ve lost the last shred of restraint. Your fingers twist into his hair, yanking him closer, and Sylus groans into your mouth, low and satisfied, like he knew this would happen, like he was just waiting for you to give in. His grip on your wrist loosens, the brooch slipping from your fingers long forgotten, as you go for his neck instead, pulling him closer, like you want to consume him whole.

He kisses back just as fiercely, teeth catching your bottom lip, hands roaming your body with a hunger that makes your head spin. And when you finally break for air, panting and dazed, you feel him smirking against your swollen lips.

You don’t wait long before the both of you are at it again, your hands snaking up to tangle in his hair, pressing yourself into him, deepening the kiss, moans and obscene sounds filling the room. You feel him give in—just a little—his arms sneaking around your waist to hold you against him, almost unable to think straight as you drive him to the edge of control.

“Despise me, huh?”

He purrs, his voice a dangerous mix of teasing and challenge as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip.

“I’d love to see what you’d do to me if you loved me.”

You take in two of his long fingers with your mouth, sucking them off with a slow, deliberate motion, your eyes never leaving his.

“Earn it, and maybe I’ll show you.”

do not copy, steal or translate my work! reblogs, likes and feedback highly appreciated!

[arolesbianism]

I am thinking very very hard abt the toy world guys and oh baby I love dropping in disturbing lore bits that are just sorta dripped into the actual plot and otherwise are not explained <3

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 25

(Art of Harpy Neige done by the very talented @ironicallyenraptured )

Warnings; yandere, multiple yanderes, different levels of yandere, mostly story driven chapter, hurt/comfort, snuggles, semi-aftermath, mention of attempted assault, wisdom from past Humans, explaining things, shock is one hell of a drug, cuddle puddle, tears, Hellcat, Ghost, Harpies, Dragon, mention of various species,

~~~~~~~~

Things were quiet far away from the crowd of the arena. The world felt a little smaller and a little more bearable as you lay in the nest, your nest, in Ramshackle. There was something familiar about the old building that soothed your heart, feeling much more relaxed in the familiar bastion.

Idia confirmed no one had managed to get into Ramshackle while you were away. He also mentioned something about adding a lock down mode to the building.

Now you were given something you have not managed to have in a while; solitude.

Of course, that didn't include little Grim who slept next to you in the large nest, not too far from you but curled up in arm's reach. He had suffered the brunt of Erikír's magic and was feeling after effects from the paralytic force that overwhelmed him. Crowley assured you Grim would recover, he was just recovering at a slower rate due to his age and size compared to the others.

Though you knew something terrible had happened and you were still reeling from it, you felt oddly numb. It felt like the world was rushing around you but a strange calm had overtaken everything and you were simply sitting in they eye of the hurricane that raged around you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, the lack of physical injury, or both that kept you in such a state.

You figured you should check in on Che'nya and Neige given what happened. Most of the Housewardens waited down in the common area of the dorm, letting you decompress from the events that took place. Everyone that had fought or joined the fight before it ended was resting in Ramshackle but you were allowed a blissful moment of quiet to yourself.

Luckily you weren't physically harmed by any of the events, but it still made your skin crawl to think of the Merman prince. It meant more to you than you could describe to have those blessed moments to yourself to just think. Lilia had managed to convince Malleus to let you breathe and have some room but you knew the moment you left the room the Dragon would be by your side.

You stared at the ceiling on your back wondering about where you should go next in this madness filled world. Showing affection seemed a decent enough way to get these monster men to calm themselves. Perhaps you would even have to hold a quick meeting to talk with the various professors and Housewardens about what exactly took place. As far as you were aware, they were all in your dorm anyway and were simply waiting for you to show yourself.

A faint sound of whispers drew your attention and you glanced over to the mirror. You could just barely see the faint glow of the reflective glass and next to it was the thin Human ghost.

Moving as carefully as you could, you got up from the nest, letting Grim sleep off the effects of the signature spell Erikír had used on all of you. The Ghost seemed wary of the door to the room, so you silently ushered them into the adjacent bathroom connected to your room. Hopefully the beasts would all be none the wiser.

"Hello again, my friend. I am glad to see you live another day unbound."

The Ghost greeted quietly, his reedy voice still very faint to keep from being heard by listening ears. He smiled gently at you and you were honestly thrilled to see him again. Though you knew not what the many Ghosts were named, you were happy to know their one visit was not the last.

"Likewise. Though, I wish it was on better terms..."

"We saw what happened. Are you alright?"

"I guess..."

"No, I want to hear a 'yes' or a 'no' for certain. That was an awful thing that prince planned to do to you. I saw the prince talking with those Fae, promising them something that was not his to promise. We tried to warn you before the Tournament, but you weren't here when we arrived."

"I've been in another dorm because of the increased visitors on the island due to today's events. ... What exactly did Erikír promise them?"

"Do you truly wish to know?"

You felt a kind of bile in your throat as you considered your options, feeling more than you had in the last hour. Truly, you didn't want to think about that monster or what he meant by 'our eggs' when he spoke earlier. At the time, you had just wanted to escape and didn't focus too much on what the insane fish was ranting about.

"No, but I should know about it anyway."

"He promised to have you bear several egg clutches for him. The warm water Merfolk tend to have larger clutches, so he promised each one an egg of their own to keep and raise in exchange for their help today."

A shudder ran down your spine when you heard this, knowing the awful monster wouldn't take your feelings into account. If he was so willing to kidnap you, you had little doubt he would be willing to force you into having his young. He was awful, and you vaguely hoped you had the chance to weigh in on what punishment he deserved.

"I'm not okay. To think they would be so willing to see that happen to me... Even for their own benefit. How could they be okay with any child being brought into this world only to be traded away for the imprisonment of their mother? Why would any of them agree to that?"

"Because of our aura."

"What? What does that have to do with any of this?"

"We were interrupted before we could tell you, this aura of ours protects us... To an extent. But it is only as helpful as the species you surround yourself with. It is like a soothing lullaby to the minds and instincts of the other species. Their instincts are like shards of glass spinning around in their heads, always present and always at the forefront of their decisions. Our aura calms that whirlwind of glass and smooths the edges."

"How?"

"Many ways. Magic reacts in interesting ways with the aura of a Human. For some, it makes them more agreeable and calm. For others, it strengthened and enhanced their magic. There were some cases where a Human's aura attracted powerful magic users. Humans were once called Beast-Tamers or Peace-Keepers. Our aura alone was enough to soothe instincts, cool tempers, even end generational conflict."

"So, why were Humans hunted then?"

"That aura is a double edged sword. Though it impacts magic and can soothe instincts, the lack of that aura can have the opposite effect. Those used to the calming presence of a Human's aura can become reliant on it. To many, it didn't matter how they got this aura, from being around Humans to consuming their flesh, it all had the same effect. What was meant as an evolutionary trait of survival, became an addiction for the others that drove our species to extinction. I don't know how you have that same aura or how some of us must have managed to escape to wherever your world is, but you are here now, and your aura draws the others in."

The words of the Ghost weighed heavily on your shoulders, to the point it felt like it was too much. If he was right, then that meant you were both what kept your life safe and what endangered it. These beasts were driven to be in your presence and- thankfully- you had mainly encountered those who could either mostly control themselves or had strong enough allies to keep the other kind at bay.

"How do I stop it?"

"You can't. None of us could figure it out. Only in death could we see what we never could in life."

"So, what? I'm making them addicted to me?"

"Yes. That is why it is crucial we find a way out for you, sooner rather than later. The Dragon already yearns deeply, but that is the way of a Dragon's instincts, they posses and they yearn for those possessions. He is a strong ally, but understand he will only become more determined to entangle himself in your life as time progresses. They all will."

"And Grim?"

"Your feline companion is not the same kind as the species of beasts around you. Our aura is not as strong on those like him. It can impact him, but nowhere near the same level as the others."

"So, Papa Hades..."

The skinny Ghost looked truly sad when you mentioned the old Shinigami, a kind of wistful look in his eyes. He was silent for a moment before he rest a hand over his chest where his heart would have been. It took a moment for the Ghost to speak again, and you refused to rush him as it clearly hurt him to think of the kindly Shinigami.

"He... He is impacted by our aura as well. But even still, he is one to trust more than the others. He was always very kind to us all, perhaps too kind. I was one of his Humans, he let me leave when I wanted but alas... I was too foolish to recognize leaving was only one part of the journey and fell to those that lay in wait just beyond the isle. I couldn't bring myself to face him again after I failed so long ago... If you asked him to help you escape, I would like to think he would help you, but even I don't know for certain. He loved us Humans. Cherished us, even. But I fear the isolation has hardened his heart and the pain he felt at our loss may keep him from letting you become lost as well."

You nodded and glanced back to the door, knowing if you took too long in isolation, the others would surely seek you out. They were smothering and suffocating, but they were your only chance to survive long enough to escape this place. It had been such a short amount of time, but it was no less important for you to understand how desperately these beasts yearned for your presence.

~•§•~

"-should have never been left up to chance! I know you trust your students above my own, but even you should know to trust me when I sense foul play on the horizon."

Crowley was fully fluffed up, his feathers standing on end and his voice sharp as he cawed angrily at the fellow Headmage. Ambrose refused to meet the heated stare of the angered Crow, keeping his gaze downcast as the Crow continued to screech. It was true, Ambrose should trust Crowley's instincts on such things, he had been Headmage of Night Raven College for centuries and knew when to be wary.

"To think, you let him assault my chick, assault your students, and Overblot all at once. All of this, for what? To try and have faith in the goodness of your students? Ambrose, it is not often I am the one to chastise anything you do, but even you must admit it was stupid to think Mr. Helmsman would not try his luck given his prior actions. He showed who he was and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt!"

Crowley hissed and squawked angrily as he stomped around and paced in front of the Owl. This was the inverse of the typical interaction between the two as it was often Ambrose reprimanding Crowley. Though it was vindicating for the Crow, it was not worth the potential emotional and physical harm that almost befell his chick.

"What prior actions?"

The Dragon growled lowly, his voice impacted by the fire he had breathed out earlier and scratchy from the smoke. Naturally, no one wanted to actually tell Malleus what happened during the Photoshoot, especially considering the fact he was already furious. He had been pacing back and forth between the common area and the stairs that led up to his Human's room, ears perked keenly for any sign his Human or their beloved kit stirred. Vil was the one to break the news.

"Erikír got handsy with (Y/n) during the Photoshoot, he even placed his hands on her stomach."

"So that is why she asked Lilia about it last night. She assures me stomachs are not inherently linked to mating for Humans, but it would explain her discomfort on the subject. Still, this 'prince' assumed such falsehoods were truth and thought to try such brazen disrespect towards (Y/n). He should have been banished from her presence the moment he dared take such action."

The Dragon was agitated and it was obvious in the way he frowned and the subtle twitching of his tail. His wings were tensed on his back as if prepared to fly at any moment should he be called. So much was on his mind that he barely even remembered the unfinished Spelldrive match that declared no clear winner. He really didn't care much for the game or the outcome, only dragging it out for the sake of his dear Human's entertainment.

"I am of a mind with Mr. Draconia, that prince should have never been allowed near her after his clear lack of discretion. Next time I get a feeling about any of the students- yours or mine- you would do well to heed my words, Ambrose!"

During the angry huffing and cawing of the Crow, a soft figure slowly descended the stairs with a groggy Hellcat kit in hand. The kit was yawning and the presence of the Human did not go unnoticed by those in the dorm. Naturally, Malleus was first to head towards the oddly calm looking Human.

It had been one hell of a day thus far for her.

"(Y/n)," Malleus was quick to greet the Human that looked at him with almost distant and shell-shocked eyes, seemingly wanting to hold or otherwise pick her up but barely restraining himself from acting, "are you... Well? Do you need-?"

He cut off as the soft Human he adored walked into his waiting arms, letting the Dragon wrap his tail and wings around her. The hold of the Dragon was secure yet gentle as it seemed even the beast needed that moment simply to calm himself. Despite the beseeching words of his mentor and caretaker, Malleus found himself far more soothed with his Human in hand than he did without her.

Grim also seemed rather keen to lean into the affectionate grasp of the Dragon, his tired eyes struggling to stay open. Erikír's signature spell had mostly worn off of the students it impacted but Grim was clearly struggling to overcome the effects. Neige and Che'nya were both present among the many other students as it seemed more than Housewardens decided to camp out at the Ramshackle dorm. From what you could see, most Vice-Housewardens were present as well and you figured now was as good a time as any to speak with them as a group.

"I need to talk to everyone before what happened truly hits me."

Malleus let you pull away from his hold but kept close behind you like a perpetual shadow that loomed nearby. It was clear the others were keen to hear what you had to say, Che'nya and Neige moving so you could sit between them. Though your Dragon guard seemed less than pleased at the location between those that failed you, he was not going to force you to sit among the Hoard despite his wishes. Your needs were greater and he understood it in that moment.

Grim slowly lifted his head to sniff towards the Harpy that gently cooed to him, almost seeming worried as the kit struggled to stand. You were similarly concerned but the insistence that Grim would recover in time somewhat soothed your worry. At least the kit seemed alright despite his clumsy attempt to nuzzle the hand of the Harpy that sat next to you.

"We will continue this later, Ambrose. (Y/n), my dear sweet innocent chick, we are ready to hear what you have to say."

"Thank you, Headmage."

Crowley seemed somewhat bothered by the formal title, but he allowed you to continue without complaint as it was clear to him something was wrong. From what you gathered, all of the beast men would at least be unwilling to abandon or betray you if you kept an eye on them and divided your attention among them. Your aura should see to the rest when reality decided to hit you full force.

"I assume you all are already aware of the basics as to what happened today, so I won't rehash what we know, but there is something I need to share. Those Fae didn't see an opportunity and just choose to show up, it was planned and orchestrated. Erikír- after he used his signature spell and pulled me from the room- let slip how he gained the favor of those Fae, and what his plan was going forward."

A shiver ran through you as you thought about what had happened and the disgusting feeling it had given you. The faint feel of feathers over your shoulders told you Neige had rest one of his wings over your back, likely as a comforting gesture. You were thankful for the gentle touch of the Harpy that had earned a certain level of trust from you. He did not see the betrayal coming, but you trusted in Grim's judgement more than you could say.

"He said the Fae joined him for the promise of an egg. A half-Human egg. I doubt all of them joined for only one shared among them, so he must have promised them each one of their own. I'm sure I don't need to say where he planned to acquire these eggs. I honestly don't think he really cared if I wanted such things or not, he had made a deal and intended to make good on his word no matter what. This was before he Overblotted. He wasn't Feral when he planned to take me, he turned Feral when I got away from him. I don't feel safe with him nearby, even down the coast at Royal Sword Academy, not after what he has done."

Thunder suddenly boomed and shook the entire building. The air itself seeming filled with electricity as the Dragon among them hissed deeply, his body shaking with rage. Malleus was unaware of these finer details, but learning Fae from his own Kingdom had been so willing to trade what was not theirs to claim had white hot fury filling his veins. This was all in addition to the brazen and frankly disrespectful acts committed by the prince.

Most of the time, Lilia would be the first to make an attempt to calm down the Dragon. He was not keen to stop Malleus from ripping these poachers to pieces for even thinking they could get any young from you, especially when you so clearly belonged in the Hoard. Most of those present were of the same mind as Malleus; riddled with rage.

Ramshackle itself groaned and creaked from the force of the storm outside and you worried for those who may still be in or near the arena. The Tournament was either recently ended or just paused and that meant many could be out in the storm. You were quick to stand, immediately approaching Malleus and resting a hand on his head between his horns. He had almost seemed confused by your actions before you began to gently pet the upset Dragon, almost all tension leaving his body. In a way, he seemed to be fighting the immense calm that your presence brought him.

"He must pay for daring to take what is not his."

"I know, Tsuno, but there are still innocent people on school grounds, you can't drown them in a storm for the crime of being nearby. Save your anger for those that deserve it."

"He deserves death. The Rat is first and his crime was less. I see no reason he can't be next."

"Yeah, but something tells me because he's a prince they will try very hard for a lesser punishment."

"I want him dead."

"I know. You can't kill him. Not yet. We can do nothing about him right now, so I need you to calm down and hold onto that rage. I have no doubt he will lie and try to discredit or back-track on what he said to me. What I need from you is one of the Fae he coerced or several if you can, and they need to be alive. Their attestation is more damning. Evidence is what we need, not a storm."

Malleus made a sound then, like a mix between a whine and a growl. The Dragon was frustrated and didn't want to listen to reason, but he knew what the logical next step was. You were right.

"All Fae in the arena were caught and are going to be questioned. They have all agreed to answer any question and answer honestly, so long as they get to be questioned by you."

Ambrose spoke, his voice resigned and laced with guilt. He refused to meet your gaze and simply continued to look down at his hands, which were balled into fists. You figured he was wrestling with the idea of one of his own students going so wrong so quickly.

"I don't want to talk to any of them. I don't want to talk to anyone who would agree to leave me with a man that intends to use me for his own gratification. I don't care what they've lost or how they are hurt. Pain doesn't excuse their willingness to let horrible things be done to me just so they can sleep easier at night with a bought and sold child born as a result of their inability to control themselves or have a modicum of morals regarding others wellbeing."

"They won't speak to anyone but you."

"Fine. I will break their hearts and their fragile sanity. I want Tsuno, Lilia, and Headmage Crowley present for the questions. They can stare down their own prince and try to beg for the mercy they would have never given me."

There was lasting silence and you could see the fear in the eyes of the beasts around you. It was as if they were trying to decide if you were being serious or not. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and felt the slow pull of emotions, drawing back to soon drown you in a tidal wave.

There was only moments of clarity left and you could feel the headache forming from the tears that had yet to be shed.

"I can't do it right now. Any of it, really. Right now, I need someone- anyone of you, I don't care- to hold me. I need to be held for several hours and someone needs to make me drink and eat because I won't want to. Honestly, I-"

Your voice faltered and your tears began to fall. Despite your desire to speak and give these clueless monsters the information you needed them to know, there was no more time.

"I-"

You figured Malleus would be first. He was closest after all, but you really didn't care who it was this time. Those in the dorm were those who have proven themselves trust worthy. You just needed to collapse and cry.

Emotions were strange like that, so terribly absent in the height of stressful situations yet so vicious in their return they knocked your knees out from under you. You vaguely registered the feeling of scales, feathers, fur, and flesh as your world seemed to implode. Every breath was difficult and your body shook with more than just the force of your tears.

Horrible things seemed to happen around you and now you knew you were the unfortunate cause and cure. At least you could face it later, but for the time being you had built quite the defensive group of guards. That same group who now let you sob and cry with no judgement, just gentle affection.

Everything could be dealt with at a time you could calm down and assess it properly, so you simply let the many beasts try to comfort you however they could. Warmth and softness all around was a tempting lullaby to your frazzled brain. One you embraced wholeheartedly as your world faded from the madness and into tranquility.

~•§•~

"Ambrose?"

The Crow Harpy watched the mixed group of students from both schools and various species all gather together. Some were species that hated each other by instinct alone. Some were naturally solitary. All of them valued comforting the Human more than their own instinctual dislikes and desires.

"Yes, Crowley?"

"He sought to trade away her eggs, Ambrose."

"I know."

"... This cannot happen again."

[sparta369]

I bought slay the princess but haven’t started it ‘cause it kinda intimidates me, can you convince me to play it?

Ok now I know you just asked me to convince you to play it but hear me out

Don't play it yet

There's a huge, Free Content expansion coming out on the 24th of this month, in just 8 days called The Pristine Cut, which is going to expand the game by about 35%. The Devs themselves have said to wait for the expansion release if you haven't played it already lol

That being said, I'd never pass up an opportunity to gush about one of my favorite games ever created

I realized far too late that I'd accidentally written far more than either of us probably wanted. So I'll try to sparknotes it, and leave the full thing below the cut.

The less you know going in, the better. However, it is still a horror game. You can find a list of content warnings here. It's just a list, so it doesn't really reveal very much.

A single playthrough lasts about 3-4 hours on average, though I can guarantee you'll want to do more than one. The game is positively dense with choices. It's impossible to see everything in one playthrough, and one would be hard-pressed to have the exact same playthrough twice.

Words cannot really capture how much I love this game. It's story masterfully crafted with a vast ocean of choices for the player to make, all of which make a true and profound impact on the narrative. If you enjoyed Disco Elysium or The Stanley Parable, You'll like Slay the Princess. The game was lovingly hand-drawn, pencil on paper, and the music was beautifully composed. The voice acting, featuring the talents of Nichole Goodnight and Jonathan Sims, are also, in my opinion, phenomenal.

I truly cannot express the emotional impact this game has left me with. It's a game I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Whether you intend to stop here or read on, I'll leave you with this one screenshot. It's only text, and it's literally the second thing you see upon booting up the game, so don't worry about spoilers lmao

"Whatever horrors you may find in these dark spaces, have heart and see them through."

"There are no premature endings. There are no wrong decisions."

"There are only fresh perspectives and new beginnings."

"This is a love story."

Oh boy you clicked the "keep reading" button :o) I wrote this over the course of most of my day today before I realized exactly how long it was. Besides a small change to the end, I'm going to leave most of it un-touched, just for the sake of preserving whatever the hell was going on in my head at the time :o)

Slay the Princess is one of those games where, the less you know going in, the better, So I'll do my best to convince you without revealing anything.

Still, though, It is a horror game. If you would like to look through it just in case, you can find a list of content warnings on their website here. It gives a list of many things you may encounter, but there is a 0% chance that you will encounter all, or likely even half, of the things described in there. In addition, they present these things in a way that reveals as little as possible. Still, I would personally recommend against reading through them, but there's no shame or judgement if you go dig through it. You know yourself better than anybody, if you think ya need it that's fine.

There's also some flickering image effects & a parallax effect that has caused motion sickness for some players, but both of these can be disabled in the settings.

With all that out of the way...

Words truly cannot explain how much I love this game.

It is an absolute masterwork of interactive narrative storytelling. No other game I've played or heard of in my life gives as much weight to every single choice you make, every little thing you do. There are so many choices and possibilities, and not once does the game ever make you feel like you've chosen "wrong." It's impossible to see everything in one playthrough, and you would be hard-pressed to get the exact same playthrough twice. Quite literally, every time I've watched somebody else play the game, they happened upon something I'd never seen before, despite me having 100% of the achievements.

One playthrough usually takes around 3-4 hours, but you will almost certainly want to do more than one.

There are also a number of places where you can safely and logically pause and come back later, should you need to.

The narrative itself is expertly woven. The storytelling is phenomenal, interweaving paralyzing fear with heart-aching beauty, while also carrying a healthy amount of comedy at carefully chosen places. The themes carry through beautifully. I've cried actual tears on more than one occasion, and it's not easy to get that out of me. Slay The Princess is a story that will be a part of my heart for as long as I live.

If you've played and enjoyed Disco Elysium, you'll enjoy Slay The Princess.

If you've played and enjoyed The Stanley parable, you'll enjoy Slay The Princess.

I know that I often struggle with games that require a lot of reading, and that includes a lot of visual novel type games.

Thankfully, the game is, for the most part, fully voice-acted :) The very few bits that aren't voiced are that way for narrative reasons hee hoo

The voice acting itself is, in my opinion, phenomenal. Both actors put their heart and souls into their roles, and their care shows in their performances. The Princess is voiced by Nichole Goodnight & the Narrator is voiced by Jonathan Sims (Who you may recognize from The Magnus Archives, if you were ever into that).

The art of the game is beautiful. It is all lovingly hand-drawn, pencil on paper. Thousands of images, and even a few animations, all coming together to form a wonderfully unique visual style that lends itself well to the game itself.

The soundtrack of this game, composed by Brandon Boone & with vocal performances by Amelia Jones, is absolutely breathtaking. It does a phenomenal job setting and supporting the tone of the game, whether it be tension, fear, hope, joy, or anything between and beyond. I can't put it's beauty into words.

Brandon Boone actually just recently won the "Game Music Award" at the World Soundtrack Awards for his work on Slay The Princess, and I deeply believe that it was 100% deserved.

This is... probably far more than you ever asked for. But I mean it when I say that Slay the Princess is one of my favorite games of all time. I mean it when I say that Slay The Princess is a story that will be a part of my heart for as long as I live. I'll take any opportunity to make more people play it, in hopes that it might impact them even a fraction as much as it has impacted me. I've bought a total of 11 copies of this game (1 for myself, 9 which were distributed to friends, and one that's coming with the Collector's Edition)

As my final word, I'll once again remind you:

"Whatever horrors you may find in these dark spaces, have heart and see them through."

"There are no premature endings. There are no wrong decisions."

"There are only fresh perspectives and new beginnings."

"This is a love story."

[magnagaruzenmon]

Recuperation

Okay now y’all are stuck with me for a while until Dinozen finishes his massive stories.

After a long day at work, you finally had the apartment to yourself. You dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes, and shuffled into the kitchen. Tonight called for something simple—instant ramen with an egg and whatever leftover vegetables you could scavenge from the fridge.

With a steaming bowl, you sank onto the couch, remote in hand, ready to lose yourself in some anime. It took you about ten minutes of scrolling to land on Kaiju No. 8. The title floated online for a while, and curiosity finally won. From the first episode, you were hooked.

There was something about Kafka—the way he struggled with his responsibilities, the weight of his unfulfilled dreams—that felt oddly familiar. Sure, you weren't dealing with kaiju or life-or-death stakes, but the longing to be more, to be something greater, resonated in a way you didn’t expect. You leaned forward, ramen forgotten, completely immersed.

So much so that you didn’t even hear the door open.

“Hey, babe,” Tsuki’s cheerful voice cut through the action on-screen.

You flinched, fumbling for the remote and pausing the episode mid-explosion. Turning toward her, you found her standing in the doorway, framed by the warm glow of the hallway light. Her work bag was slung over one shoulder, and her dark hair spilled loose over her shoulders, a few strands clinging to her face from the cool night air.

“Oh, hey!” you said, still recovering from the surprise. “How was your day?”

“Long,” she said with a dramatic sigh, running her hands through her hair in mock exhaustion. Then she glanced at you, her lips quirking into a playful smile. “What about you?”

“Same,” you replied, matching her sigh for effect.

She laughed softly, setting her bag down by the door before crossing the room to sit beside you on the couch. The scent of her perfume—subtle, floral—cut through the lingering smell of ramen, a comforting contrast. She leaned in and kissed your cheek, her lips warm and soft.

“What are we watching?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the screen.

“Kaiju No. 8,” you answer, handing her the remote so she can read the episode description. “Just started it. Have you ever heard of it?”

Tsuki raised an eyebrow, scrolling through the details. “Mmm, I think Sua might have mentioned it once. Said it’s about a guy who turns into a kaiju, right? Sounds like your kind of thing.”

You chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” she teased, nudging me with her elbow. “Big monsters, lots of fighting, some tragic backstory—sounds like you.”

You rolled your eyes, but her smile was infectious. “Well, it’s good so far,” you said, gesturing toward the screen. “Want to watch with me?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I was thinking of a bath and bed, but… sure. I’ll give it one episode. You can’t complain if I fall asleep halfway through, though.”

“No promises,” you said, grinning.

Tsuki tucked her legs under her as she got comfortable, resting her head against your shoulder. You hit play, and the room filled with the sound of explosions, roaring kaiju, and Kafka’s determined voice.

As the episode unfolded, Tsuki occasionally murmured comments—mostly teasing ones about the characters or the animation—but it was clear she was getting into it.

“You’re really good at understanding this now,” she said suddenly during a quiet scene.

“What?” you asked, caught off guard.

“Your Japanese, it's gotten better,” she said, gesturing toward the screen. “I remember when you’d have to pause every five minutes to look something up. Now you’re keeping up with all this kaiju jargon like it’s nothing.”

You felt your cheeks heat a little. “Well, I’ve been practicing. Plus when I was a kid I used to watch Godzilla all the time and a lot of the jargon is the same… I guess I have a pretty great tutor.”

Tsuki grinned, her cheek resting against your shoulder. “Damn right, you do.”

The episode continued, but your focus shifted. You made the mistake of glancing at Tsuki, who was sprawled comfortably on the couch. Her hair was slightly messy from the day, her makeup faded but was still perfect to you. She looked so effortlessly sultry yet so at home, and it broke your brain for a second.

“You’re so hot,” you blurted.

Tsuki sat up slightly, her eyes wide with mock disbelief. “Excuse me?”

"I said you’re so hot,” you repeated, more confidently this time. “Like, you just walk in here, hair all messy, talking about kaiju and complimenting my language skills—how am I supposed to focus on anything else?”

She laughed, her face lighting up in a way that made your chest feel warm. “You say the most random things sometimes,” she said, leaning in to kiss you. “But I’ll take it.”

The kiss lingered for a moment before she pulled back, her eyes soft. “Alright, let’s see if Kafka can beat that.”

“Good luck to him,” you muttered, earning another laugh.

As the episode ended and the credits rolled, Tsuki let out a contented sigh. “Okay, I see the appeal. Maybe I’ll stick around for a few more episodes. But first—” she stretched and yawned, “—I’m grabbing some of that ramen you’re hoarding. Save the next one for me?”

“Actually, I’ll do you one better,” you said, getting up and heading into the kitchen. Tsuki followed, curious. “Sit tight—I’m making breakfast ramen for you.”

Her eyes sparkled under the low light of the apartment. “Your famous breakfast ramen?” she asked, her voice laced with excitement. You nodded, already pulling ingredients from the fridge.

When you slid the steaming bowl across the counter to her, she took her first bite, her eyes widening like a kid opening a gift. “Ah, so cute,” you teased, and she blushed, mumbling something about how unfairly good it was.

“You ever think about becoming a chef?” she joked, savoring another bite.

You laughed but decided to bring up something you've been meaning to tell her. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about pursuing something new.”

Tsuki paused, her chopsticks mid-air. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said quickly. “But I’ve been working on getting my pilot’s license—helicopters, planes, the works.”

Her eyes widened with admiration. “Wow. First photography, now flying? You’re really living up to that Nigou comparison.”

You rolled your eyes as she laughed. “Hey, I need something to do while you’re busy being a superstar.”

Tsuki gave you one of her smiles—the kind that radiated love and warmth, the kind that made everything else fade into the background.

“What are you staring at?” she asked, tilting her head cutely.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you said, grinning.

She pouted, poking me with her chopsticks. “Fine, but only because you’ve been pampering me all night.”

You smiled as she finished up, then her eyes took on a different kind of hunger. She abandoned her bowl before approaching me.

"You know it's been a little while since we've had alone time like this," she says, with a sultry tone. You blink at her a few times until she brings you in for another kiss. This kiss brings with it her hands wrapping around your shoulders, as she brings you in close her tongue finds its way into your mouth. Tsuki breaks the kiss and then says, "I always love how sweet you smell. Whether it's vanilla oranges or blueberries. You always smell like dessert, and I think I'm in the mood for some right now."

Tsuki pulls you in for another kiss as your hands wrap around her and dance around her svelte body. You smile into the kiss as she continues to kiss deeper.

"Fuck!" she groans before guiding you to the bedroom. She lifts up her top and her petite and pert breasts greet you. She smiles and then says, "Take that cock out," You shrug and oblige her as she smiles before taking you into her mouth. Her pouty lips spread all around your cock as she begins to slide up and down your length. You moan and Tsuki says,

"you like that," as she speaks she slowly rubs your shaft before taking you back into her mouth. She lightly bites the tip causing a bizarre sense of pleasure that almost makes you explode then and there. Tsuki smiles and groans around your cock.

"Please cum for me, baby. I want my cream for dessert," she says, and that's what gets you as you pour hot cum down her gullet. And Tsuki smiles around your cock before lifting herself up.

"Thanks for dessert, now let's continue this in the bathroom so we can both get clean," she says.

[potatoplace]

Labyrinth: Dizzy and Dehydrated

C1: Dizzy and Dehydrated | C2

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader, Backrooms!AU

series masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: You're out with your friends one night, celebrating finishing your finals, when suddenly you find yourself in a strange place, with no exit in sight.

Warnings: mild injury, slight horror (idk how actually scary it is lol), general backrooms vibes - also this WILL be an omegaverse story, but it has no effect on this first chapter

Words: ~3.8k

Author's Note: I hope you guys like this one! I'm sorry there's no update for The Afterthought yet, but I thought sooomething is better than nothing 🤷‍♀️ and I'm rlly excited about the backrooms vibes (and now it's omegaverse toooo ahhh) Lemme know what you guys think!! 🫶 Read it on AO3!

18+ only pls

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The night air was cool as you stepped out of the bar, your friends’ arms linked with yours as you began walking to your dorm.

The three of you had just finished your finals five hours ago, with three of those hours spent pounding shots and dancing together before you’d started feeling slightly dizzy.

So now the three of you were walking home, and thankfully you had your two friends to help keep you from stumbling.

Or that’s what you’d thought, until you reached a stoplight and they unlinked their arms from yours for a moment, the two of them locking hands and cheering over something that you hadn’t quite caught.

The walk light came on and you took your first step, then your second, but it wasn’t until your third that your stupidly high heel caught on an uneven patch of pavement, sending you tumbling towards the floor.

A flash of heat and pain ran through your palms and knees as you caught yourself, just barely keeping your head from bonking off of the pavement.

You expected to hear your friends giggling, and maybe their hands grasping your arms to yank you to your feet and get you out of the intersection.

What you didn’t expect…

Was silence.

You looked up from where you’d landed, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them a few times, confused.

Where…? Where were you?

Where were your friends?

Where was the bar you had just been inside?!

You had to be far more drunk than you’d thought, or maybe someone had slipped you something, and that was why you’d been so dizzy?

But none of it made sense, it wouldn’t make sense that you went from being in the middle of a well lit intersection…

To being in a bland, yellow corridor, completely alone.

You rolled off of your knees and onto your rear, taking stock of your injuries with your still-spinning vision. Your palms were completely wrecked, tiny rivulets of blood dripping from the ripped skin, down your wrists and forearms. And your knees… They were just as bad, a renewed sting with every movement, blood trickling down your shins.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked at the injuries, your lower lip wobbling. You sniffled and turned your eyes to your surroundings instead- surely you just tripped and got turned around or something, right? Maybe you stumbled through a door?

But there was nothing that resembled a door around you, just identical yellow walls for as far as you could see, with occasional breaks for other hallways to join to the one you were in.

You groaned loudly and fell back against the floor, wishing your hands were unharmed so you could pull at your hair. How had you managed to get so thoroughly lost?! The tears finally fell from your eyes, rolling into your hair as you let yourself cry for a couple minutes.

Until you heard a noise from somewhere behind you, your eyes flying open in fear as you bolted upright and looked behind you, only to see… Nothing different.

Great, I’ve been lost two minutes and I’m already paranoid and hallucinating, you groaned to yourself as you forced your body up, being mindful of the way pain bit at your knees with every movement.

As much as you’d like to lay down and cry for the rest of the night, you wanted to do it in your bed, not in this creepy hallway.

And to get to your bed, you needed to figure out how the hell you got here.

You flipped your head to the right, then the left, trying to decide which way you should go. You had fallen towards the side of the corridor now to your left so… Maybe you had come from your right?

A sigh left your lips.

Things couldn’t get much worse, could they?

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You’d been walking for what felt like hours now, your heels long since stripped off of your feet and dangling by their straps from your left hand. The floor beneath you was rough, but it was better than twisting your ankle for a fourth time, or god forbid spraining or breaking it while you’re stuck… Wherever it is that you’re stuck.

So far you’d come across no doorways, windows, or signs of life. Only other hallways that linked to the one you’d been following, with you only taking a turn when you had no other options. It was strange, how the walls and floors seemed clean enough of dust, and the hallways were all generously lit, with not a single lightbulb burnt out.

Surely you’d find someone soon, right?

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You estimated that it was two hours later when you felt it- a pair of eyes lingering on your back.

Or at least, you thought you did.

When you turned around, there was nothing there, nobody was watching you.

But you couldn’t shake that feeling, even as your pace began to slow, your adrenaline and alcohol fueled energy running out quickly, especially as your mouth started to feel dry.

Every few minutes you risked a glance behind you, just to be sure that you were alone.

Soon enough though, you needed to rest. Or at least sit, give your muscles a break for a couple of minutes. You kept your eyes searching for a small closet or cubby-like area for you to curl up in, but after another few minutes of the same smooth walls, you sighed and pressed your back to one of them, letting your body slide down it.

The concrete beneath you was cold, the short and thin material of your dress doing little to keep you warm in this confusing place. You laid your shoes next to you then stretched out, a yawn breaking from your lips as you did so.

Maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, really, for you to take a quick nap? Then you would feel more refreshed, and ready to find your way home.

You’d close your eyes for a few minutes… Just a few minutes.

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You startled awake some time later, your body shaking from the cold. Your surroundings were so unfamiliar, so strange-

And it all came rushing back, how you’d been with your friends and then tripped, or something, and ended up in this yellow hellscape that had no exit.

Your head was pounding from your hangover, and you wishedyou had a glass of water to help with it.

As it was, you’d be lucky to get even a drop.

A few minutes passed with your head in your hands, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. Eventually you forced yourself from the ground, grabbing your heels and dangling them from your right hand.

Your eyes darted between the two directions the hallway stretched into, and you thought that you’d come from the left… But you weren’t sure.

Everything looked the same.

You sighed and started walking to the right, hoping that you’d run across another person that could help you soon, or an exit if you were extremely lucky.

The concrete beneath you sucked all warmth from your feet as you walked, and walked, and walked. This place seemed to go on forever, though how that could be possible, you weren’t sure.

You’d been walking for a while, having passed at least a dozen intersecting corridors when you heard a scraping noise behind you. Instinctively you looked toward the noise, eyes going wide when they landed on a towering figure with decaying, leathery wings, the clawed tips of one scraping against the wall it was near. It let out a horrific screech when it noticed your gaze, a sound between metal shredding and a bloodcurdling scream causing you to freeze in your tracks.

Until it began running at you, it’s long limbs carrying it towards you quickly.

You let out a scream and began sprinting forward, running as quickly as you could for the next corner that you could run down, hoping beyond hope that there would be somewhere you could hide, or more turns to help you lose whatever the hell was chasing you.

Fear and adrenaline overtook you completely as you rounded the corner, only to be met with another long hallway, though you could see that it forked a ways ahead.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought to yourself as you risked a glance behind you, your heart stuttering when you saw the creature still following, though you might have gained a bit of ground on it.

You still had your heels clutched in your hand, so if it came down to it… Maybe you could jam one into each eye and kill the damn thing.

As though it wouldn’t be able to kill you the moment you were in shoe-using range.

Your lungs were beginning to ache as you closed in on the fork in the hallway, the sides of your calves burning as you kept pushing forward.

Which one, which one?

The fork to your left was brightly lit, though it looked to go on with no end in sight, or any breaks in the wall that you could see from here.

And the fork to the right was darker, almost like there was black smoke pouring from further down the hallway, and you could only see a few lights along the ceiling.

Almost anything could be lurking in there, even another of the disgusting creature chasing after you, with no sign of slowing, unlike your own body that was so unaccustomed to running for more than a few blocks.

The left it was, then.

You might die, but at least you would be able to see death coming for you.

You veered to the left as you hit the fork, staying close to the wall in hopes that the creature behind you was dumber than rocks, and decided to take the right fork instead.

Your eyes kept searching the walls in front of you, each pass hoping that you would find a small doorway, or crack to shove yourself into so you could let the monster pass by, and head in the opposite fucking direction.

You risked another glance over your shoulder, the creature still following behind you, almost at the fork in the hallway- its eyes were still locked on your form. So much for it being dumb as hell…

Your focus returned to the never-ending yellow walls and concrete stretching in front of you, your breathing ragged as your lungs burned from the effort of keeping you going.

There! There was a small break in the wall to your right, looking just big enough for you to wedge yourself inside, hopefully covering you from the monster’s sight. You flung yourself inside, squeezing between identical walls and going as far forward as you could into the opening.

You tried your best to slow your breathing and racing heart, keeping yourself from making too much noise as you were finally given a moment’s reprieve, even if you may still get eaten if the creature noticed where you had hidden yourself.

Time moved slowly as you waited to either hear the creature run past your hiding spot, or reveal itself in the small opening in front of you.

But neither came.

After what you would guess was ten minutes, ten whole minutes of fear flowing through your veins, you let out a breath of relief. Maybe… Maybe you had actually outsmarted the monstrosity? You waited another minute before you let yourself move, slowly peeling yourself from the corner you’d shoved yourself in, small steps carrying you to the break in the walls that you had slid through. It took you another minute to peek your head out, looking down both sides of the hallway, your eyes met only with yellow walls and concrete floors, no sign of the winged creature that had been following you.

A heavy breath left you, and tears welled in your eyes. Now that you were safe, however momentarily, you felt the overwhelming fear wash over you, and the pain of your now scraped raw feet. You slid to the floor and buried your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to sob for a minute.

You just didn’t understand. How was all of this happening to you?!

You may have been able to rationalize it as a drug trip last night, but today? Waking up, still in this place? It just didn’t make any sense to you.

But it had to be real, at this point. You just couldn’t fathom how.

Once your tears had slowed, you forced yourself to look at your surroundings again, noticing that to your left, where you’d come from, the hallway past the fork was darkened now, similarly to how the hallway you hadn’t taken had looked.

Weird.

You sniffled and wiped your tears away with the backs of your hands, and forced yourself to stand. Your feet were aching even more, now that they’d had a chance to rest and have no pressure on them, but you didn’t have much of a choice to rest, not with dangerous creatures on the loose.

Continuing onward in the direction you’d been going, a heel dangling from each hand, you winced with each step, waiting for your feet to go numb to the pain.

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You were starving, and parched beyond belief when you came across another break in the wall, deep enough for you to be out of sight while stretching out your legs.

Still, you’d seen no sign of human life, though you’d heard plenty of noises behind you that sounded suspiciously like footsteps, but whenever you’d looked, nothing was there. And you’d also had no luck in finding water or food, much to your dismay.

At this point, you might run out of strength before you found your way home, or at least outside again.

You let out a huffy breath as you turned on your side, using one of your arms as a pillow and bringing your legs to your chest. If you’d known you would be stuck in a never-ending series of corridors, you’d have worn a warmer outfit, or at least comfortable shoes.

Of course, you never would have guessed that you would be lost and alone, rapidly losing hope of finding your way to true safety.

You eventually drifted off, sleeping fitfully until you snapped awake.

Something was on you.

You looked down to see a… blanket? No, a cloak? A cloak, made of fur draped over your form.

Your eyes went wide as you looked around the nook you’d gone to sleep in, finding yourself alone, but… This was a concerning development.

Someone, or something had been in close quarters with you, and left something behind. The cloak had been placed carefully over you, it seemed, as it covered every part of you besides your head, keeping your body heat trapped against you nicely.

You shivered as you looked at the fur cloak, dread sinking into your bones.

Was something watching you?

You didn’t waste another minute as you stood, stretching your limbs and wincing as your feet lit up with pain, still raw and aching from your journey yesterday. You almost left the cloak behind… But without it, you were feeling the chill of your surrounding even more, and you were uncomfortable enough as it was without feeling cold.

So you wrapped the fur around your shoulders, letting the hood fall across your back as you fastened the smoothed fang of something into the hole cut through the other side of the cloak. It was a bit long on you, dragging along the floor as you walked and absolutely drowning you in the material, but you felt warm for the first time in a day and a half, or however long you’d been stuck here.

You still held your heels in your hand, as useless as they might be, just in case you needed to distract something, or try to fight back, or… Well, they were just a reminder that you had been having a perfectly normal night.

Your journey continued on sore feet as you left the nook you’d slept in, carrying on in the way you had been going before you slept.

The only changes in your surroundings had started late last night, as the walls began looking more and more decrepit as you went on, with square chunks taken out of the ceiling that made no sense, or holes in the wall that looked to go on the same as the intersecting corridors, never ending.

Today, you pace was even slower, the toll of not having any food or drink yesterday leaving you drained of energy and motivation to continue on, knowing that more likely than not you were going to rot in this endless yellow hellscape.

You took random turns, hardly paying attention to where you were going, and far more concerned with the footsteps that you continued to hear behind you, sounding closer than ever. Yet still, when you looked, there was no one and nothing there.

Your mind had to be playing tricks on you at this point, between the dehydration and absurdity of the situation you were in. You hardly looked back to check behind you now, it was only when you remembered the sheer surge of terror that the horrific monster that had chased you had caused that you dared to look, shaking your head when every time, you were met with the same empty hallway that you had just walked through.

Soon, though, you came across something that had hope blooming in your chest.

Plants.

There was a patch of wall ahead of you that had a green, leafy vine crawling across it, dotted with clusters of little berries. Your mouth watered as you approached the plant, a hand reaching out to grasp the vine and pluck the berries from it, only for the plant to turn to ash at your touch.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to pick another cluster, only for the same thing to happen, green life turning to gray death in your hold. Tears pricked your eyes as you tried the last cluster, your fingers just managing to grasp a berry before it, too, turned to ash under your touch.

“Fuck!” You yelled, your frustration getting the better of you as tears trickled from your eyes. You needed those berries, the water they held.

But you were left with nothing, hope turning to ash in your chest as you turned away from the wall, slowly walking away.

You made yourself keep walking, even as you wondered what the point was. You’d been trying for the better part of two days now to find your way out of here, with no sign of progress or a reason to believe that you would ever leave this place.

Eventually you grew tired enough that you found yet another small nook to curl yourself into for the night, your cloak wrapped tightly around you as you curled into a ball, letting yourself sob quietly as you fell asleep.

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You awoke with a start, your heart hammering as you shot up from the floor.

There was nothing out of the ordinary - well, the new ordinary - around you, except…

A pair of slippers, made of matching fur to the cloak you were wrapped in.

You blinked at the shoes, dumbfounded as to how they were in front of you. Something had to be following you, at this point.

But you were too tired and exhausted to care, seeing as whatever it was had only been near you while you were sleeping. Though you supposed that you should care more with that being the case but…

Again, tired and exhausted.

Your throat ached with each breath you drew into your lungs, your stomach clenching painfully around nothing as you pulled the soft slippers over your wounded feet, sighing at how nice the material felt against them.

You made yourself stand on shaky legs, your vision swirling in front of you as you braced your hands on a wall, steadying yourself. A deep breath in, and out, and you determined that you could go on. You bent to grab your heels, letting them dangle by the straps from your left hand as you left your little alcove.

Walking was a slow process today, your muscles protesting against every movement, lungs burning with each inhale and exhale.

Surely today would be the day, wouldn’t it? You’d been down here for almost three, with no water at all. And if it wasn’t water, well, if anything like that creature stumbled across you again, you would be done for.

Your eyes welled with tears as you wallowed in your misery, wishing that you would wake up in your bed with an extremely bad hangover, safe and sound.

But that didn’t happen.

No, instead, you were left to walk and walk, taking whatever turns presented themselves to you as you took yourself further in the labyrinth of nearly identical hallways, all of your energy draining into the cold concrete and yellow walls that surrounded you.

You reached a point that you could hardly walk, your joints locking up as your lungs struggled to draw in breath, and you allowed yourself to slide down against a wall, telling yourself that you would rest for only a few minutes, and then you would start moving again.

Just a few minutes, you whispered to yourself as you pulled the fur cloak in against you tightly, your head leaning back against the wall.

Your breathing was heavy as you began to drift off, jolting awake every so often and looking around, only for your eyes to fall shut again, your body desperate for any rest it could take.

Your eyes fluttered open once more, this time met with a sight that had you wide awake in an instant.

A winged man, clawed talons extending from the joints of the black leather, similarly to the monster you’d run from before, his violet eyes burning brightly, even from across the hallway. Your eyes went wide, flicking between the man and a woman, stood to his right. She had no wings, but her blue eyes glowed brightly, dangerously, as they stayed locked on your form, unblinking.

Heart in high gear, you attempted to stand from your spot on the ground, only to collapse back to where you’d been sitting as your legs gave out, a groan of pain slipping from your lips.

In an instant, the two were in front of you, faster than you could comprehend. Your body was pressed tightly to the wall, and you flinched at every movement that they made.

The woman extended a hand towards you, her palm cupping your cheek and following as you moved away from her touch, only to have your other cheek pressed into the man’s hand.

What the fuck is happening?

You didn’t have long to contemplate it before your vision went dark, your last sight being that of two sets of glowing eyes, staring down at you with… Worry?

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