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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

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It's Okay to Play Favorites (Vice Housewardens)

Intro: You accidentally get sucked into the world of Twisted Wonderland, your favorite game, like, ever. And uh, you may or may not have teleported with a plushie of your favorite character…

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, self aware au but not god, your card collection is just you being freaky and taking pictures of them, google translated French be warned, ortho’s is platonic and if u take it any other way i ban u, lilia’s is also platonic but if u see romance crumbs i won't stop u, ik ruggie and ortho aren't vice housewardens but get this idgaf

A/N: Bro college got me fucked (second day in i know i'm a fucking whiner i hate it all). Not a request, just some random stuff I wrote during my 3 hour round-trip commute jfc. If my Jade favoritism is acting up, no it ain't.

Masterlist

Trey Clover is a man often overlooked, whether in the fandom or the world of Twisted Wonderland.

So when you get transported in during orientation, you, the player, were holding a plush form of him?

He blanks out.

Sorry Riddle, your vice housewarden kinda crashed maybe you can reboot him or something.

Trey’s never thought of himself as anything special, but he must be if he’s your favorite character, right?

You befriend him with a giddy smile, he can almost see the hearts in your eyes as you fan[redacted] so hard you actually hug him in your excitement.

The player? Hugged? Him?????

“Crazy bro that’s like super nuts so jealous of you.” - Cater Diamond

Hm, he gets a bit bashful when you take so many pictures of him.

Do you really like him that much?

He…likes you too.

“Cringe.” - Cater Diamond

I’m just a normal person, you know? At least, the closest someone can get to normal in this place. You still want me? Are you sure?

…Okay.

If you’re sure.

Unfortunately, to date a dad is to put up with dad jokes.

Do you mind though?

Makes you the most delicious pastries and confectionery known to mankind. You’ll probably get 5 lbs fatter and a sugar addiction.

But your teeth will be beautiful because he teaches you how to brush your teeth properly.

(Ten kinds of toothbrushes…)

Picnic dates.

Tea party dates.

Baking dates.

You might need to go on a diet to stay in shape because Trey doesn’t mind fat. He will probably love you more if you’re chubby.

But he loves you regardless.

Rest of the cast is like, vaguely jealous because why Trey?

But also he has a generally good rapport with other people so it’s cool.

Maybe.

Ruggie Bucchi wasn’t really paying too much attention at the ceremony but you definitely drew his focus.

Is that a plushie hyena beastman?

Does not register that it’s him until someone calls it out.

What? Why? How? When? Where?

He probably has major self esteem issues because, you know, the school’s filled to the brim with rich kids and people with status.

He has neither money nor power. So when he finds out he’s your favorite character? Boom.

He lets out his cute (im not biased) laugh but it’s because he doesn’t know how else to react.

You want to be his friend? Why not?

(Laughs again because he’s exploding on the inside)

You hug him???? Crazy. You owe him a donut for that, bro.

Thinks the picture thing is a bit weird but who is he to argue with the player?

You’re weird, y’know? There’s like princes and moguls and stuff in NRC, why me?

You like me? You find me charming?

That’s not something I’d really use for myself but hey…knock yourself out. Shishishi.

Floof.

You get to scratch his ears and kiss ‘em and watch ‘em twitch while he tries to get away from you.

Insane bro wish I was you.

Cuddly and surprisingly clingy, loves loves loves being pampered.

Are you indoctrinated by my subby Ruggie vibes yet???

His love language is sharing food.

(Have you ever tried passing candy through a kiss? No? Wanna try?)

His grandma will love you <3

The other characters will be giving him major stink eye. The scrappy hyena? Really?

Yes really.

“Whatever, good for you.” - Leona probably.

Jade Leech is amused.

Rather childish, is it not? Well, he’s flattered that you think so highly of him and even have this stuffed toy in his image.

Unfortunately, he does hold enough respect for you as the player to not immediately use your infatuation with him for nefarious purposes.

Not to say he doesn’t tease you though.

You are the flustered one here.

He’s your favorite? Oya, how interesting. He’s never seen himself the way that you do, but who is he to argue with the player?

Please, what do you like so much about him? Do tell.

(His systems crash when you hug him but you’ll never know)

You seem to enjoy taking his pictures. If you let him [redacted] you can take as many as you want.

If you don’t take him up on his offer I will!!!

My, I never expected to be your ‘favorite character’, was it? Well, I don’t mind.

What do I think of you?

Fufu, wouldn’t you like to know?

Loving a sadist means you’re probably a masochist.

You like it when he ‘unintentionally’ makes you do something stupid? Toys with you? Teases you with his annoyingly adorable super cutie pie grin?

Bro you have weird taste I could like, never~

If you didn’t like mushrooms before you do now.

You wish he’d look at you the way he looks at his terrariums.

You know that silly, happy, dopey little look he gets? The lab coat groovy one? Yeah.

Hiking dates if you’re physically able to. If not, he makes like the fanciest dinner dates ever.

He does love you, promise.

The other characters are highkey judging you.

Jamil Viper is inside his hoodie and is very unlikely to ever come out.

You’re kinda embarrassing but what is he supposed to do?

You’re the player. You have a plushie Jamil. Tiny and cute.

Jamil doesn’t see himself as cute. Wouldn’t it be better if you had a different one? Someone sunnier, someone warmer, someone like…Kalim?

Jamil’s your favorite character?

Yeah he’s not leaving his hoodie.

When you’re so happy and excited that you hug him, his soul leaves his body through his lips.

Rip Jamil Viper.

I don’t think Jamil’s very used to the camera, considering he’s technically Kalim’s servant and servants stay in the background.

But since you adore him the way that you do, well, he won’t stop you.

You’re strange. Is this a prank?

No, I don’t mean to doubt you. It’s just that…

No, nevermind. Since you want me, I’ll—love? You love me? Fine, I can work with that too.

His favorite kind of date is one where you two sleep and cuddle together.

He needs a break.

It’s not too often that he can carve time out of babysitting, so any time spent with him you’ll cherish like gold.

You can help him with chores if you manage to persist through multiple rejections.

He’d really prefer not to make the player do chores with him, but when you smile so wide like that, he can’t refuse anymore on the grounds of you not enjoying it.

Kalim can lend you guys the carpet though, you wanna fly?

While the cast doesn’t generally approve of the snake, you’re very loud about your infatuation.

They can’t stop you.

Rook Hunt is a lover of beauty, and you, the player, are the most beauté of all! (full points :D)

Qu'est-ce que c'est? A soft and fluffy copy of himself? How wonderous! Marvelous! The adorable cotton-filled blah blah blah (insert soliloquy here)

While there’s a tiny thought in his mind that perhaps the poison apple or the queen would be more befitting of a nui plush, he still takes your fascination with him in stride.

(It’s not often that he’s in this role.)

To be your favorite, it is an honor!

He shall dedicate a poem to your inner and outer beauty!

Accidentally tosses you to the ground when you try to hug him.

Desolé, instinct. Try again?

He’s not used to being the one in the spotlight, but please, take as many pictures as you need!

Love? Love is the most beautiful indeed. Comme toi, tellement adorable. Lovely.

You’re asking if I have someone I love?

Je suis un lâche de ne pas exprimer mon amour pour toi.

Either you get what he’s saying or you remember it so you can translate later.

Anyway, have you ever wanted to hunt for sport as a date?

No?

How about getting hunted for sport?

Still no? Shame.

Rook settles for little camping trips in the woods, just you and him and the forest (and his bow and quiver of arrows and his hunting knife and his dagger and—).

He makes very good roasted meat.

You’ll enjoy it as long as you remember not to ask where it’s from.

Uh, ignore how every other cast member is judging you. Love is love, right?

Ortho Shroud is very happy! Very excited! Yay!

You’re a legendary figure, and you’re treating him so nicely!

Is that a toy made to look like him? You like Ortho? He’s your favorite character?

Yay!

Robo baby is very happy.

Since you like Ortho, do you like Idia too?

Can you be Idia’s friend?

Can you be a new older sibling? Please?

(Say yes or I will [redacted])

Hugs? Hugs!

Forehead kisses?

Yes!

You seem to enjoy taking many pictures of Ortho. Why is this? You like him that much?

If so, maybe you two should take pictures together instead of always taking pictures of him alone. He’d love to take lots of pictures with you!

Can Idia come?

I am your favorite character? Like in a video game? This world is also a video game?

That’s great!

What kind of character am I?

Lilia Vanrouge thinks you’re funny. But also totally correct.

He must be sinful because even you, dear player, find him absolutely adorable!

Hehehe…

Is that a tiny Lilia? Good taste! It’s almost as adorable as the real one.

When you hug him in your excitement, he just laughs and pats your back.

Grandpa vibes.

A picture? Why not?

A selfie, as you kids say. (bro you’re not even detached from modern technology???)

Really likes taking pictures with you.

Since you like him a lot and he’s your favorite character, be a dear and forgo your sleep schedule to game with him.

I’m your favorite, right? Surely that means you’d love to taste my cooking?

No? Why, I’m saddened by your rejection…

There we go. It’s not so bad, is it? I made it with effort, onions, garlic…are you alright? Oh dear.

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jacquesthepigeon · 11 months ago

Note

On the subject of Mary Sue's, I look for two things

1) the way the character is treated by the narrative

2) if the characters skills make sense to their backstory

Like, to me a Mary Sue is a character who is always framed as a solution.

If a problem affects the characters, the Sue will have just the right skill set to fix things. And whatever the Sue says is always framed as correct, regardless of if what they're saying or doing would actually help or be the right thing in that situation

Maribug doesn't hit either criteria. She's the narratives favorite punching bag, and she's never pulled a random skill that she shouldn't have out to fix a problem. Her main thing is how generally creative she is, and how she's able to work with what she's given, and while her ideas can get kinda nuts she's never suddenly been a genius computer hacker when they need one to save the day

Adrichat hits one of these criteria, having the narrative favor him and always frame him as correct, but as he doesn't pull out new random skills whenever the plot demands, I personally don't count him as a Mary Sue either

The only time I called bull on one of Marinette’s skills was her being good at football/soccer. That girl can’t play ball sports to save her life and they know it. Except for basketball.

#anon #ask

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kremlin · 9 months ago

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@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

#posts i will be deleting

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salmon-bagel · 7 months ago

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Tf2 mercenaries x Seductress! Class! Reader

Warning: nsfw content, female reader, sexism

Scout

When Scout heard that there's a woman who's a professional at seduction, he had already started plotting.

"Hello, name is Y/n L/n, but you can call me the Seductress. It's nice to meet you."

"Heya, nice to meet cha' mommy- Oh, i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy-"

Constantly hits on you. Scout believes that you're the type of girl that's 'easy', someone who will let anyone bang them regardless of who they are.

That boy isn't going to leave you alone until you let him into your pants.

Even when he's not busy trying to get in between your legs, Scout is asking you for advice on how to woo the ladies. Considering you're a professional at flirting with people.

You go back and forth on giving him good advice and bad advice. Sometimes you feel bad that he can't get a girlfriend. Then again, you think to yourself that no woman should be within three feet of Scout because of how much of a horny asshole he is.

After some time, you did grow to have a soft spot for him. Since he's bullied a lot by the other mercenaries. He can be kinda cute when he's not being a complete jerk.

Soldier

Soldier treats you like the other mercenaries. Ruthlessly bleating in your ear when you're doing something wrong.

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SQUATS NOW! I WANT THAT AMERICAN ASS NICE AND PERKY BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

He wants the best from you. Regardless of your gender, he'll push you to the limit until he's proud enough to call you a warrior.

Soldier tests that you're a good seductress by making you flirt with him. It's an ego boost on his part, but he's genuinely trying to make sure you're hot enough for the enemy.

"YOU CALL THAT FLIRTING!? I'VE HEARD BETTER FLIRTING FROM A MONKEY! AT LEAST THEY CAN PUCKER THEIR LIPS BETTER UNLIKE YOURS!"

Buys you clothing that he believes would work well when you're seducing the enemies. It's always american themed swimwear or lingerie. You began to believe he's just buying that for himself for you to try.

Whenever the team successfully wins for the day, Soldier immediately rushes towards and smacks your ass as hard as he can.

"NOW THAT IS AN ASS I'M PROUD TO CALL AMERICAN!"

Sniper

Sniper believes your work is very unprofessional. Considering he believes you have to whore yourself out to the enemy team. Instead of using your actual skills.

He says he has nothing against prostitution or sex work in general. Sniper just thinks that stuff you do should be kept behind doors and not on the battlefield. He says it causes too much of a distraction. However, you claim that 'distraction' is the point. Sniper doesn't seem to get it.

You honestly could care less what he thinks. Snipers throws jars of piss for a living, and he really thinks he has the right to judge other people?

The truth is you're good at seducing people. Too good. That it distracts him from doing his own job. Sniper has a tendency to watch you through the scope of his gun.

The way your body gets all hot and sweaty from the terrible heat, oh it does something to him. Sniper has imagined licking your sweat off your tits while you degrade him for being such a filthy fuck.

You are his go-to jerk off material. The women in his porno magazines don't get him off like they used. The only way he can relieve himself now is by imagining your fat ass bouncing on his cock.

When he noticed a pair of your panties in the laundry basket, Sniper couldn't help himself to inhale the sweet scent of your panties before putting them back.

Sniper knows he's a damn hypocrite.

He slut shames you for what you do, only to get off to you afterwards. The post nut clarity consumes him with guilt and shame.

Sniper still hasn't built up the courage to apologize to you.

Heavy

Heavy is one of the very few people who treat you like an actual human being. He was raised by a single mother alongside three sisters. Heavy knows to treat a woman right. Less he wishes to face their fury.

Heavy doesn't understand why you seduce the enemy. You're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not bat your eyelashes and wink! However, after watching your work on the battlefield, he gets to more of an understanding.

"Oh, I see. You lie to enemy and lure them in like fish? HA! Very clever!"

Absolutely loves gunning down the enemy that is distracted by you.

Is one of the few men who genuinely falls for you for your personality. Heavy knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but he knows that beneath all that beauty is a truly intelligent woman. You earned your place on the team by impressing Mann Co., with your skills instead of batting your eyelashes and begging to be a part of the team. You make his heart swoon like no other woman has.

He likes to write you poetry. It helps convey how he feels for you because he's too bashful to put it into simple words.

Heavy is not afraid of anything. Nothing, not even death itself. However, it took him a lot of courage and constant rehearsal to ask you out on a date.

He hopes to start a genuine relationship with you. Heavy doesn't want a one-night stand or be friends-with-benefits with you. He wants you to be his girlfriend and maybe possibly his wife later down the line.

Engineer

"Well, I'll be! Aren't you the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Engineer is taken aback by your good looks and sauve personality. He genuinely questions why you wanted to be a mercenary. A beautiful lady like yourself is too of high risk to get hurt!

Will always be there to help you if it gets too much for you to handle.

However, he can be very overprotective over you on the battlefield. Engineer thinks it would be safer for you to stay on the rancho relaxo than getting shot at by the enemy. As much as you'd like to not do anything on the job, Mann Co. isn't paying you to be lazy. They see everything and will tell you to get off your ass and start fighting.

You have to beg Engineer that you can do it on your own. He understands your point of view and begrudgingly lets you fight with the others. Even if it means going against his code of defending and protecting a lady when she needs it.

While putting up dispensers and sentries, he can't help to admire you from afar. Engie believes that a guy like him has no chance with a girl like you. What woman would be interested in a bald man who has a robotic hand and locks himself away in his work? No gal that's who.

Engie fantasizes about working up the courage to flirt with you and ask you out, which would eventually lead to a rather sensual night spent together. He did try to ask you out once but miserably failed. Engie kept stuttering and mispronouncing words out of nervousness while attempting to seduce you. You couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Thankfully, Demo had the heart to pull Engie out of that mess of a conversation and save him from further embarrassing himself.

So now, he just admires you from afar. Dreaming that one day he'll get to win your heart.

Spy

Surprisingly, he wants to get to know you as soon as possible. It's not every day you get to meet a lovely lady.

When he learns of your class type, oh boy, this man will make you question if you're even meant to be the Seductress.

"Mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Do you know why they call Paris the city of love? Why don't I take you there and show you?"

"If the verb ‘to love’ didn’t exist, I would have invented it upon seeing you."

Spy leaves your entire face red and completely frozen after he's done talking to you. He's so flattering and charismatic. In comparison to the other men, he makes it seem like they're not trying at all. It isn't their fault, though, Spy is a natural at wooing the ladies.

You're surprised when Spy gifts you things that you really like. You never shared these intimate details with him before or with the other mercenaries. When you asked him how he knew what you specifically liked, Spy merely winks at you and grins. He has a way of receiving information without anyone knowing.

He has a tendency to kiss the back of your hand whenever you two are greeting each other. Spy is a gentleman and can't help himself to be sweet to a beautiful woman.

When Spy asks you out on a date, you agree to it because you have been meaning to go out. You felt like you'd go insane if you stayed in the base any longer. You put on your best dress and left with Spy into town.

After having a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, both of you give into temptation. Spy could hardly keep his hands off you when he drove you both back to the base. All your clothes came off the moment you reached his bedroom. You found it a little strange he refused to take off his mask. Oh, what the hell. He's hot and treated you to a nice date.

In the morning, you receive uncomfortable stares from the other mercenaries. Let's just say you and Spy weren't exactly quiet during your lovemaking. Unfortunately for the others, you decided Spy would become your fuck buddy.

Medic

He's been meaning to include a female subject in his experiments- I mean, he's glad to meet you!

You try your best to steer clear of him. However, on the front lines, it isn't so easy. When you're constantly getting shot at and stabbed by enemies, you'll need the Medic's help to get better.

When he sees you in action, Medic feels a new emotion that he's never felt before. Is this.. love? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just lust.

Medic has never been infatuated with any woman. Except you. The way you lure in these pathetic men with your good looks and false promises, only to kill them afterwards- oh God, it makes him giddy. He feels like a schoolboy all over again!

Medic does routine check-ups on you. To make sure all your lady parts are in working order. In reality, this perverted fuck wants to have an excuse to grope you. Always gaslights you into believing he's not being a degenerate.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Why, of course! Breast cancer isn't something to take lightly!" He'd respond. You would understand, but after thirty minutes of him fondling your breasts, you knew what his true intentions were.

Medic writes you love letters and his dove, Archimedes, deliver them to you.

The letters start off relatively sweet. Medic writes that he views you as a Goddess, a truly ethereal being that is too perfect for this world filled with lesser mortals. And how he's the only man truly worthy for you.

Then, the letters take a complete turn the more you read it. He writes how he wishes to fulfill every filthy fantasy he's ever had with you. Oh boy, the list is long. For one, Medic wants to tie you down, gag you, and breed you like the filthy whore you are. Another consited of how he wants to fuck you on the battlefield while you're bleeding out and fingering your open wound as if it was your pussy.

You've stopped reading his letters and tend to light them on fire.

Demoman

"So, how much do you regularly charge for a quick shag?" He'd ask you before laughing his ass off.

Demo will never take you or your work seriously. Even if you politely ask him to.

He doesn't see what's so hard about showing off your tits and saying how much you love to suck cock. Demo believes you should've been a stripper if you wanted to tease men so desperately.

You frequently explain to him in detail how you help and provide for the team. You honestly can't tell if Demo deliberately forgets or because he gets drunk so often, he hardly pays attention to you while you talk.

Don't worry, though. After you've instilled the fear of women into him, he'll be gladly reminded that he shouldn't judge or ridicule a woman. If his mother were here, she'd knock some sense into him.

Demo apologizes to you, drinks, gets drunk, and apologies some more

"I'm sorry, lassie! It's just that I just get so lonely sometimes! What woman would give me, a one-eyed freak, a chance!"

He bawls on the floor, crying in front of you. You attempt to cheer him up by comforting him. Instead, you end up getting drunk with him.

Did you shag him in the heat of the moment? That's all up to you ;)

Pyro

Has no idea what you're doing to the enemy. Anything sexual you do is translated as innocent in their vision. Will never know what real seduction or sex.

Luckily, they think everything you do is nice and polite!

Regularly gives you grotesque gifts, which are usually human hearts and bones. You begrudgingly take the gifts because you know they mean well and don't wish to be disrespectful.

Pyro has a tendency to go through your closet when you leave your room. Or while you're sleeping. Either why, they steal your clothing and belongings. They pick out outfits and wigs they like along with makeup supplies. You wonder where you placed your dress and immediately begin searching for it. Maybe you left it in the laundry room. As soon as you exit your room, you see Pyro wearing your clothing over their suit. Fake eyelashes have been glued onto their eyes, and lipstick smeared all over the breathing hole.

You can't even be upset with Pyro. They're doing their best.

You let Pyro keep the dress they're wearing, considering it most likely wouldn't fit you anymore.

#tf2 #tf2 soldier #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you

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uzumaki-rebellion · 26 days ago

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"You spend half your life with dilated pupils I don't think you're nice And you treat me kinda cruel All your moves is crazy You compromise my safety All your friends are shady They tried to warn me vaguely You patronize me daily You never call me baby Or treat me like a lady And mainly quite frankly

You get on my damn nerves…"

Chlothegod – "UGOMDN"

A.N.: Content Warning. Discussions of abortion, blood & violence.

An abortion was impossible for Celeste to get under Louisiana State law.

Once Roe v Wade was abolished, the law in her state was activated to ban all abortions, regardless of whether a woman had been raped or was a victim of incest. Despite her fear, Celeste had to see a doctor after her third positive pregnancy test and increasing fatigue. She lived with horrendous morning sickness and suffered in silence. At a clinic, a sweet-faced young doctor told her she was about nine weeks along. The fetus was the size of a strawberry. Refusing to look at the ultrasound, she didn't want to acknowledge the being inside her as a baby. Especially when she wanted to get rid of it.

Under normal circumstances, the logical answer was to remove the fetus from her body by crossing state lines. But jumping up to take a trip to California suddenly wouldn't be easy. Celeste would have to find a discreet way to get away from L.A. relatives when she'd never been there before, find a clinic, have the abortion, and then lie around in bed for a day or two until she was okay. She wished she had female cousins her age to talk to, but the only other women relatives nearby were twice her age, jaded aunties who would curse her out for being so stupid about getting pregnant…by a vampire. She refused to share the news with her girlfriends, embarrassed that she let a dude knock her up on the first fuck. The one female cousin she had in L.A. that was only a couple of years older than her couldn't be trusted to keep her mouth shut if Celeste confided in her for a ride to a Planned Parenthood trip. It had to be a covert operation.

"Arrghhhh!"

Celeste screamed inside her car on the drive to the chicken processing plant. For the next twelve hours, she would sort chicken parts and blast-freeze them. The work was routine and boring, but paid well and she liked the co-workers who packaged the chicken on the graveyard shift with her. Anticipating relief from the city's heat, she couldn't wait. Freezing chicken in a controlled, cool environment saved her from thinking too much about her problems.

Sort. Push trays. Freeze. Toss frozen chicken parts into boxes. Rinse and repeat.

The hours ticked by and she settled into her work groove. The face mask covering her nose and mouth helped keep the stench of raw chicken from upsetting her stomach. She became so sensitive to odors lately that she didn't know how she could hide a pregnancy from her family. The hormonal changes fucked her up. She'd cry at the drop of a hat and get irritated so fast around people. Even at the chicken plant, she acted short with co-workers. Fatigue set in after six hours. Her snippiness was called out by the floor supervisor, and she took a break in the restroom to get her shit together. She sat on a toilet and cried, angry that she put herself in the position she was in. Plan B failed her. Her choice to let the man nut in her was ridiculous. She regretted not staying consistent on birth control pills after being with Freddie.

Covering her face with her hands, she berated herself for getting pregnant a second time in her life. The first time had been before she entered university. She'd been terrified then and confided in her cousin Micah, who stood by her in secret. He drove her to a clinic over in Slidell and let her stay with him and his family for a sleepover movie party to hide the fact that she needed a quiet place to recuperate. Micah was her favorite cousin, and she knew that he'd be the first to help her if she called, but she didn't want him to judge her for not heeding his warning about Terry. This time, she was on her own, and it killed her soul to know she was going back on her word to God about doing anything like that again. She swore as a frightened seventeen-year-old that she'd never have an abortion again if God could forgive her for terminating that one mistake.

The man who impregnated her as a teenager had been older, in his mid-twenties, and ended up getting killed by gun violence over in Shreveport when Celeste turned eighteen. She would've been an unwed teen mother with a dead baby daddy. Going back on her word brought her personal shame. As an adult woman, she should've done better. Being hot in the panties at seventeen didn't compare to being a grown ass fucking up.

Getting back on her grind, Celeste finished her shift and left the building quickly. She sat in her Charger and watched three male co-workers who car-pooled together in an old Honda leave before her from the parking lot. At three in the morning, the sky stayed dark enough to let the stars shine like little crystal buttons.

Her cell chirped.

Micah.

"Bitch, what's going on?" Micah said.

"Getting off work."

"I'm not askin' 'bout your job, cousin. What's going on with you?"

The noise of Bourbon Street droned on in the background of Micah's call. His club job didn't shut down until four in the morning.

"Nothin'. Just work…like I said."

"That redbone ever come back?"

"Terry ain't no redbone—"

"Whatever…you still fuckin' wit 'em?"

"No."

"Joyce called me and said you ran outta the Quarter like you seen the devil or something and she ain't hung witchoo since. Y'all been tight since gradeschool. Ain't like you to be anti-social, Duchess."

"Work has been kicking my ass…I just need time by myself."

"Quit one of them jobs, then."

"I need money to pay my rent and save up for my dream house."

"Nobody told you to go live in overpriced artsy-fartsy Marigny. Them old slave homes cost millions. Bitch, we from the Truh-May. You think two jobs and sewin' gonna pay for that in your lifetime? Unless these white folks give up some reparations, you stuck outchea grindin' for pennies on the dolla like the rest of us. Move in with me and you could save some real money."

"And watch you argue with your boyfriend and girlfriend all the time? I got enough drama without your chaotic poly life."

"Point is, cranky bitch, I've got plenty of room for you and a support system if you need it."

"Thank ya, cousin. I appreciate it. I'll file that away for emergencies."

"You need me to roll through and cook you breakfast when I'm done here?"

"No. I'm going to get in my bed and sleep until I gotta come back here tonight."

"You see a doctor about that anemia?"

"Yes. I'm not anemic. Just overworked."

Celeste let the lie sit. Micah didn't pester her further, and they ended their call promising to see each other at their grandparent's house for a Sunday dinner. She resolved to tell Micah the truth…about her pregnancy…and the vampires.

She started the engine of her car, and the Charger roared to life. Waving at incoming workers starting the next shift, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the long stretch of quiet state highway. A marine layer covered the road with an advection fog, reducing her visibility. She slowed down, played some music, and smoked. A violent coughing fit hit, and her stomach heaved. She threw the cigarette out of the window. The taste of nicotine on her tongue hit different. Like rotten meat.

While singing along to the radio, she noticed blinking hazard lights on the side of the road up ahead. An old Honda pulled to the side looked familiar. Her co-workers.

They milled about, looking forlorn.

She pulled up next to them and rolled down her passenger window halfway.

"What happened?" she asked.

Hector, a Honduran with a ready smile, leaned against her car. The other Black men with him watched the road for any oncoming cars in the fog.

"Blown tire."

"You have a spare?"

"Yeah, but no jack or lug wrench. None of us got Triple-A."

"I have a kit in the back. Hold on."

Celeste backed up behind them and hopped out of her car. The foggy air cooled her skin, and she hoped the temperature stayed that way all the way home. She popped her trunk and took out some small orange traffic cones with reflectors and spread them around her car and Hector's. One of the Black men, Shorty, who was over six feet tall, took out the equipment she had and started working on the tire. He did it all wrong, not even knowing how to use the foot jack she had.

"Stand back," she said, taking over tire duty.

The other guys thanked her and listened to music playing from their car. They lifted the blown tire from the wheelbase for her and Hector placed the spare on.

"Here, I can finish it up," Hector said.

He didn't know what he was doing, either.

"I got it, man. Don't get your ego hurt because a woman is doing this," she said.

She tightened each lug nut and patted the tire when she was done.

"Good to go," she said.

Hector pulled out a ten-dollar bill from his wallet.

"This is all the cash I have. Thanks for stopping and saving us from waiting around."

"Nah, Hector…keep that. Buy your kids some candy," she insisted.

"Y'all see that?" Shorty said.

Celeste and Hector peered over the roof of the Honda and looked to where the others had their attention. Massive oak trees with their sloping branches curved toward the ground like giant skeletal fingers, the fog whispering around them with an unnatural light that shouldn't have been possible without the moon. Four ominous figures moved toward them.

"Are those people hanging over there?" Quentin, a chubby co-worker asked.

Celeste quickly collected her tools and threw them in her trunk.

"We gotta leave!" she shouted.

Hector and the other men looked at her with confusion, but didn't move right away.

"The fuck—"

Shorty didn't finish his sentence before a mangy-looking white woman in a tattered trench coat jumped on his chest and ripped out his throat with feral teeth. The man's blood sprayed all over Celeste and she sprinted for her car, jumping in and cranking the engine. Fast-moving figures attacked and ravaged the other men. Celeste backed up and Quentin banged on her door with one hand, his other clutching the side of his neck that spurted blood like a geyser. She unlocked the passenger side, and he flung open the door to jump in.

It was too late.

A ferocious-looking white man with long, clawed fingers dragged Quentin out of her car. Celeste screamed and shifted gears, but someone punched in the tempered-glass on her side and dragged her through the window, slamming her onto the ground.

"No! No! No!" she screamed, her eyes unable to focus on how fast their attackers moved.

She immediately curled into the fetal position, closing her eyes and instinctively guarding her stomach in a protective hold, waiting for a death blow to rip her throat out.

What sounded like screams from hell reverberated all around her, and amidst the human cries for help and imploring moans to God from her co-workers, other blood-curdling shrieks rang out.

Someone lifted her by her locs and shoved her away from the Charger. She landed on her back with a hard thump to her head. Staring at the sky, she didn't move a muscle, the pain in her back and head disorienting her. Losing focus, she twisted her head to the side and watched Hector claw at the ground as his lifeblood drained onto the highway. Their eyes connected and Celeste could only observe in silence as life drained from his once shiny brown pupils. His blood pooled out toward her like a horrific black river.

A large pair of black leather lace-up boots stomped down in Hector's blood and walked through it like it was a useless puddle of liquid. She looked up, and The Deacon grinned at her with those sinister fanged grills.

"Well, well, well, Duchess…here we meet again with no barrier between us," he said.

Three of his female minions strode over next to him, their faces smeared with blood and gore. Only The Deacon's face looked clean from a feeding frenzy. The Goth, whose voice sounded a lot like the Dominique who claimed to have a package at Celeste's house, leaned in toward The Deacon.

"We finished killing that wild pack of feeders. They made a mess of the bodies… left blood everywhere. They didn't even have the intelligence to carry these blood bags into the trees," Dominique said.

Celeste tried to back away on her elbows with gravel digging into her sore skin. The Deacon reached down and grabbed her throat, stopping her pitiful escape.

"Let me kill her for you," the dark brown beauty said, crouching low. She swiped a clawed hand across Celeste's cheek, drawing blood.

Celeste hissed and whimpered at the pain. She squirmed under his grip and tried pulling her knees into her chest. The Deacon studied her carefully.

"She's defensive, but not for herself," The Deacon said.

The sound of a large vehicle pulled up. Celeste heard a sliding door and guessed that it was a van.

The Deacon kept a hand on her throat and used a claw-like nail from his other hand to slit her palm. He licked the blood that flowed out. His silvery-gray eyes stared at her with a look of shock.

"She's pregnant. It's a girl," he said.

His astonished voice made every vampire hover over Celeste, staring at her like she was a freak of nature and not them.

"Impossible!" the dark brown beauty yelled, sounding hurt.

The Deacon stared at the beauty and flicked his hand dismissively.

"Go make sure the ghouls handle the bodies and debris, Mia," The Deacon said.

His malevolent eyes softened, looking down at Celeste.

"We won't hurt you, Celeste. In fact, we will be your most ardent protectors because you carry something phenomenally priceless in your womb. I have lived several lifetimes and have yet to lay eyes on what you are about to bring into the world…a dhampir."

He stared deep into her eyes, probing them, and shook his head, gently helping her sit up.

"No…you will not abort this child. I know we may seem like horrid monsters to you because of the way we have to survive. But we are not different from you."

"You are bloodsuckers, you kill people…that's evil," Celeste said.

"You stupid humans don't kill people? Or slaughter other living creatures to feed yourselves?" Dominique barked.

"Dominique, chill," The Deacon said.

"They always think they're better. I'll be glad when our Morningstar wipes them from the earth."

"And what will we live on?" The Deacon said, annoyed.

Dominique rolled her eyes. Celeste noticed that none of the other vampires had silver eyes like The Deacon.

"Come now, get up young mother," he said.

He lifted her with a brawny arm and placed her back on her feet.

"You feel well enough to drive home?" he asked.

The sincerity of his tone threw her off. This was not the same angry and vicious vampire who beat at the door of her house, aiming to trick her for an invitation. She glanced past him and the other vampires. Two slinky individuals in dark clothes stacked Shorty and Quentin into a white van.

"Oh, God," Celeste said, turning her head away.

A third vampire minion stripped the last of Hector's clothes from his blood-soaked body and began eating him, starting at his feet. The loud crunch of bones breaking and human flesh being slurped down the worker's throat sickened her. She turned her head and lurched forward. A spray of vomit flew out of her mouth.

The Deacon chuckled and kicked dirt over it.

"Now you see what our clean-up crew does once we're done eating. They dispose of the bodies for us, leaving behind no trace like a crime scene unit. We're very efficient and prudent," he said.

The Deacon guided Celeste back to her car. Her mind couldn't fathom what was happening.

"They have children, families who will miss them…" she said.

The Deacon ignored her words.

The pale-skinned vampire pack that attacked her co-workers were left on the side of the highway and ignored. A ghoul who looked like a forgettable-looking citizen with a trim beard hopped into Hector's car and drove away. The van pulled off behind it.

"You aren't taking those dead vampires, too?" Celeste asked.

She wiped her mouth and gagged at the feel of vomit still left at the back of her throat. Coughing, then spitting, she did all she could to keep from throwing up again.

"The sun will destroy evidence of them. Our concern is that they don't properly hide their refuse."

"Refuse?"

Celeste's voice rose to an angry pitch.

"They're fucking people…humans with loved ones who are going to wonder what happened to them," Celeste screamed.

"You say that as if that's our fault," Dominique said, leaning against Celeste's car. "We didn't kill them."

The Deacon turned Celeste's face to look at him directly.

"We don't do that to people often. Our kind prefer to eat and release. We resort to killing only in self-defense or special circumstances."

"Your kind?"

"We are the top of our species' food chain. Those creatures are bottom feeders, the reason the Old Ones hunt us. They blame us for those inbred gutter dwellers. If we acted like them, do you know how many humans would disappear daily?"

"How come Terry can walk in the sun if he's one of you?"

"He's a Daywalker. The true apex predator. More powerful than us because he can kill the Old Ones during times we cannot. That's why we need him. He's our champion. If we're lucky enough, the baby in your womb will be like him. She would protect us, too."

"I'm not keeping it."

"Yes, you are. You call her Strawberry in your mind, because of her size. I could taste how attached she is to you, how much she loves you—"

"Stop fucking manipulating me. It's just a fetus with developing cells…a blob, and I'm going to stop another one of you from coming into this world. I'll find an Old One and tell them about you! I know what they are…gargoyles! Terry's great-granddaughter Miss Irma told me about them."

"Then you will doom yourself and that baby," Dominique said.

"It's not a baby! You're tricking me, trying to guilt me into keeping it."

"Rationalize your conflicted feelings how you want, Duchess. But your first instinct was to protect her. Ball yourself up. Even when I came to help you, you reacted by covering your stomach," The Deacon said.

Celeste's eyes watered.

"I can't have this baby…I can't have a monster."

"Does Terry look like a monster to you?" Mia asked.

Mia's eyes welled up. Tears fell down her face. The Deacon wiped them away.

"Mia…don't cry. She's only scared," he said.

"I'm scared for us, too," Mia said.

What the hell was happening?

Vampires afraid and crying?

The Deacon opened Celeste's driver side door. The ghouls had taken away her broken window. He traced a finger across her face and showed her the blood and bits of skin that stuck to her cheek and hair.

"You need a bath and some rest. We can't stop you in the daytime, so if you run off to…terminate…that's your choice. You don't know how profound this is for us and the hidden world. I beg you to reconsider. We'll fight anything that tries to harm you or the child."

"She doesn't want it. Let her end it," Mia screamed.

Mia's fangs were stained with blood from feeding on Celeste's co-workers, too.

"Time to go, Deacon. The sun will be up in two hours," Dominique said.

"Go home…sleep, Duchess," The Deacon said.

Celeste climbed into her car and drove off in a daze. Why didn't they kidnap her and force her to have it? They had the means and minions to do that.

From her rearview, she watched the vampires walk into the diminishing wisps of fog and vanish among the trees.

Chapter 12 HERE.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

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#terry richmond #rebel ridge #Terry Richmond fanfiction #Rebel Ridge fanfiction #Aaron Pierre #Black Vanmpires #Black Supernatural #Halloween 2024 #Scary Terry #Terry Richmond Vampire AU #Uzumaki Rebellion

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cyxnidx · 1 year ago

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No Nut November !

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, suguru getou, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, sukuna, shoko ieiri, utahime iori, choso kamo

a/n: i dont usually post nnn, but i decided to do it this year bc why not.

Satoru Gojo

I'd be generous giving him anything more than a week and two days. I have no doubt in my mind about it - Satoru Gojo is the most touchy characters out of them all. And while, yes, he will try his hardest to resist, the beginning of the second week begins to get too much for him and he eventually caves.

Suguru Getō

About four days. I've no idea why it's so specific but it just makes sense. The first two days pass like a breeze for him - until the third and fourth approach, which you up the stakes a bit and show a little more skin. That's where he begins to lose it.

Kento Nanami

Either half the month or two weeks. It's one or the other - either way, he ain't making it out completely unscathed. He'll only really last half the month if you take it easy on him though - minimal to no teasing, and only a fair amount of touching. However, if you decide to add a little bit of spice to things, he may just be tapping around around the two week mark.

Toji Fushiguro

Either the first day or the very last day. Though, the thing is, he knows he could last the entirety of the month. The amount of discipline this man has over his sensuality is utterly surprising. It's just - sometimes, he doesn't wanna last. On the very last day, he could decide to simply throw the whole "game" and say fuck it. He wants to give in sometimes. Others, he'll want to get it on and over with. To not have to hear about how others are struggling with it so badly, and not have to relate himself to it because technically, he already lost, in a sense. Which, however you decide to look at it, is a win for him.

Sukuna

He probably doesn't care enough to participate. Either he doesn't care enough or he's already lost without knowing the "game" was on. And with courtesy, you'd offer for him to start over and consider it a "freebie". Though, he doesn't accept. He simply doesn't see the joy in competing with others about who could basically hold their nut for 30 days. Especially not when he has such a pretty thing in front of him - competition or not, he couldn't hold himself for long, regardless of whether or not tried.

Choso Kamo

I'd give him a couple hours to two days. Apologies, but Choso strikes me as the almost needy type. If not the needy type, then he seems like he'd be the kinda person to try to edge himself. The whole purpose behind it would be to make the "relief better in the end", though he'd simply end up loosing due to pushing himself too far. If not him overdoing it, it'd be your additional flirting to his self-edging that causes him to give in.

Shoko Ieiri

Quite surprisingly, likely two weeks to the whole month. She's even surprised herself, and doesn't even register that the month is over until she asks you whether or not the challenge is over yet. She just.. either doesn't care enough to think too much about it or genuinely forgets until she reminds you or you remind her.

Utahime Iori

A good week or two. I can't see her being too desperate, but it's the fact of how she's feeling. She probably could last if she tried, but at some point, she ends up caving because she saw you in an outfit you full and well know she goes off the brink for. Even then she'll try to isolate herself, but any small gesture toward her or even watching you simply exist sends her off the edge.

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miasmaghoul · 1 year ago

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Okay @herbal-quintessence.

A quick little something to satisfy your curiosity.

(Follow up to this fic)

"Daddy?" Aeon murmurs, tired but still incredulous. "Really?"

Aether chuckles in his ear, accompanied by the sound of rushing water. The other ghoul must be cleaning himself up.

"Really," he rumbles, fading into a yawn Aether doesn't even try to stifle.

It hasn't been too long since Dew conked out, still a sweaty, sticky mess after taking the shade of Aether's knot. Aeon hadn't expected that part; Dew's always been active participant in aftercare, needy for contact, but tonight the little ghoul had been out like a light before Aeon had even pulled out.

Aether had laughed gently at Aeon's immediate panic, but was quick to reassure him. To tell Aeon that Dew should have warned him about how his body handles the aftermath of quintessence. He'll be out for about an hour, according to Aether, and when he wakes up he'll need a bunch of water and a kiss between the horns before anything else.

Aether had also said that nothing short of armageddon itself could rouse Dew in this state, but Aeon took him off speakerphone just in case. Speaking in hushed tones himself. Wouldn't want to risk rousing the little guy, who is currently drooling onto the duvet while Aeon and Aether have a little post-nut chat.

"Didn't peg him for the type," Aeon says, reaching over to run his fingers through Dew's hair. Working out tangled ends. "Figured he'd be more of a sir guy."

Dew sniffs, smacks his lips. Snores. Aeon smiles, crosses his legs. Aether makes an amused sound then, and Aeon tips his head as though the other ghoul can see him.

"Who said it was for him?"

It takes a moment for Aeon to process the words, the gears in his head chugging along at half speed after all his hard work. His brain feels like it's been poached, fuzzy with electric heat. When he figures out what Aether means, and he can say is,

"Oh."

"Oh," Aether teases, breathy and feminine.

Aeon has to chuckle - he's sure that's probably what he just sounded like. He couldn't help it, really. Aether wanting to be called daddy? Surely that discovery is enough to warrant an embarrassing noise or two.

"And for the record," he continues, accompanied by a shuffling sound. A shirt being changed, maybe. "He isn't a sir guy either."

Well that's interesting.

"Oh yeah?" Aeon takes his hand back from Dew's hair to rest it over his suddenly tingly cock. No way he's getting anything else out of it tonight, but the pressure feels nice regardless. "What kinda guy is he, then?"

"That's for you to figure out, pet," Aether tells him, a playful tilt to the words. "I'm not one to spoil things."

Aeon snorts, but doesn't press. There's no fun in being told these things anyway. Better to learn by doing.

"Fiiiiiine," he sighs anyway, sounding woefully put out. "Ruin my fun."

"Any time," Aether replies, and he next laugh is one they share.

Aeon yawns then, tired to his bones. He slides down the bed, does a half roll so he lands on his side, scooches himself across the mattress until he's at Dew's side. Close enough to reach out and rest a hand on his back, tacky with their combined drying sweat.

"Think I'm gonna doze while I can," he mumbles, nosing at Dew's temple. "Will he wake me up if he has to?"

"You can count on it," Aether assures him. There's a pause then, a break in mood, and then Aether huffs. "Give him an extra kiss from me, would you?"

Aeon may still be new here, but he knows pining when he hears it.

"'Course," he says, pressing his lips to the shell of Dew's ear. "Anything you want me to tell him while I'm at it?"

Aether chuffs.

"You don't have to worry about that part. He knows everything I want to say."

Aeon's sure that's true.

"Consider it done," he slurs, body heavy and eyes heavier. "Nap time now."

Aether laughs, and Aeon feels fuzzy all over.

"Sleep well," he coos, kind. "And thank you. For tonight."

"Any time," he yawns, and despite that pervasive heaviness he manages to smirk when he adds, "daddy."

A clatter answers him, Aether swears in the distance, and Aeon hopes his phone didn't hit the floor screen-first.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #aeon ghoul #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #i realize you left this tag A While ago but the juice ain't been juicin lmao #hope you enjoy anyway!!

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elifinchsart · 5 days ago

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Part of me is still so utterly baffled by Caps breakdown of an instrucutal because like… yeah that’s certainly SOMETHING innit? I chose to believe that it’s better to not take it too literal and that it’s mostly the result of him making a video while having a complete meltdown and just going nuts.

All of this is my convoluted way of saying „I think the meat is symbolic and not… what one may assume it is.“ (Would also explain how he Apperantly could make burgers several times and not just be…. Swiss cheese himself)

HOWEVER, your poll just made me realize how absolutely darkly humorous it would be if he in fact does serve himself up on a platter to Inspekta ESPECIALLY if Inspekta doesn’t know.

Just… imagine the fucking awkward, horrible conversation with Hector that may arrive just in case he ever asks for „The recipipy for dose taistey burgies you used ta make for me. What even wuz that meat?“ „….“ „Cappy?“ „….“ „Cap?“ „…nn.“ „Cap? W-What was that meat?“ Visible sweating. „WHAT WAS THAT MEAT CAP?!?“

Well regardless of if you think Capochin is literally serving Inspekta his own heart on a platter it's definitely also allegorical and symbolic! Capo's figuratively cutting his own heart out to prove his devotion in a desperate attempt for approval and to feel like he's useful and matters. All of his love and attention is going to Inspekta and he's nearly blocked everything else out. We know that he also knows deep down that what he's doing to the Grove is wrong and that he has lots of doubts and fears- but he's heartless now and doesn't care who gets hurt or dies in the process. If he just cuts it out he doesn't have to think about it and he doesn't have to realize how poorly he's been treating others or how poorly he is being treated himself. Or at least that's my interpretation of it. So is it literal at all too? I lean towards yes on this one too but I have no clue if it is or not. We do see the actual blue meat and the whole thing is pretty surreal already- an actual puppet’s not going to have meat in it. But the whole game leans into cartoon logic for things so I think it's possible for Capo to be doing this and still be functioning- I imagine it just grows back because of his own love and emotions continuing to grow. Heart is a renewable resource! At the end of the day though please come up with your own conclusions and interps! I'm just having fun playing in the possibility space and I think its fun if the meat is real but it's fine if you don't! AND YEAH the conversation would be uh. AWFUL for both of them to have but very juicy (haha) for character beats and development. and also kinda funny to me. SO I like to think about it.

#capochin #great god grove #great god grove spoilers #id in alt text #asks

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montammil · 6 months ago

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Forever Be Mine, part 5

Didn't proofread this one and might regret it lol. If I need to put any more warnings let me know!

Masterlist here!

CW: Attempted noncon, yandere/creepy whumper, physical violence, food

...

A week passed and Sawyer hadn't tried escaping again. He followed Rowan around the house obediently, barely even speaking a word to him. Rowan could tell he was still miserable, but at least he wasn't attempting to run away anymore. And that was an improvement, in Rowan's opinion.

They had eaten dinner earlier, a stew made with vegetables from Rowan's garden. Sawyer hadn't spoken the entire meal, only offering a few grunts in response to the conversation.

He wasn't interested in chatting, and Rowan figured he could play along with that for now. Sawyer seemed too depressed to do anything other than follow him around and stare at the ground.

It made Rowan sad seeing him like this, but he knew it was necessary for both of them to adjust to their new life together. As long as Sawyer stayed, eventually he would grow used to it.

And if he didn't... well, that would be unfortunate for him. Rowan wouldn't hesitate to punish him again.

He didn't want to have to resort to that, but he would if necessary. Sawyer needed to learn how things were going to be from now on. Rowan wasn't going to let anyone take him away ever again, no matter what he had to do to keep him safe and sound here with him.

"My love," Rowan spoke, placing his hand atop Sawyer's own resting on the table. "Talk to me. Please?"

Sawyer slowly looked up from his plate and met his gaze. "About what?"

He smiled fondly at him, stroking his knuckles with a thumb. "Anything at all. Whatever comes to mind." Sawyer avoided eye contact, fidgeting nervously with his fork in his other hand. "Tell me something I don't know about you." He doubted there was anything he didn't know about Sawyer by now, but he wanted to hear him speak anyway.

"I dunno," Sawyer mumbled. "What do you want to know?"

He hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of any questions he could ask. "How'd you get into singing?"

Sawyer didn't respond right away. He just stared blankly at him with no emotion in his eyes whatsoever. "I just always liked it," he mumbled eventually. "I started singing in school choirs and stuff like that when I was little. My friend then invited me to sing in his band when I was around seventeen." Sawyer looked back down at his food, poking it with his fork idly. "I guess it just kinda went from there."

Rowan squeezed his hand. "How were you like when you were younger?"

Though Sawyer hated meaningless questions about his personal life, Rowan was his only source of human interaction here in this hellscape.

So he relented. "I was intimidating when I was younger. Since I was always quiet and had a resting bitch face, most people avoided me. I learned how to act 'normal' in senior year."

He cocked his head curiously. "Why?"

Sawyer huffed in annoyance. "Because no one likes me unless I do."

Rowan frowned. "I like you."

"Yeah, 'cause you're nuts."

He scoffed. "Well thank you so much for that lovely compliment." He was surprised when Sawyer laughed, albeit quietly. But it was a laugh nonetheless, which brought a smile to Rowan's face as well. "For the record, I wasn't the most popular person growing up either. I was seen as quite the nerd in school. I always got straight A's and was much more timid than I am now."

Sawyer snorted. "I can't imagine that. Well, maybe the nerd part."

He couldn't help but laugh along with him. "I'm not always this talkative, trust me." He propped his head on a hand and stared at Sawyer, unable to look away from him even if he tried. "But it's different with you." Sawyer glanced up from his plate with narrowed eyes, but Rowan continued smiling warmly at him regardless of the glare being directed at him. "When we're together, I just feel so comfortable around you, like we were meant to be."

The shorter man's smile fell into a frown. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't feel that way."

"Well, give it time." Rowan finished the last spoonful of stew and placed the dish in the sink. "Once you realize we belong together, we can truly start our lives." Sawyer only grunted in response. "Don't worry, my love. I know you're a romantic at heart."

Rowan walked over to him and held out a hand, helping him out of his chair. He guided him upstairs and into the bedroom, where Sawyer silently crawled into bed while Rowan changed into his nightwear.

He snuggled up next to him, draping an arm over Sawyer's waist and burying his face into his neck. "You smell so nice," he murmured against his skin, planting kisses up and down his throat and shoulder blade. "And you're so soft." His hand roamed across his body, feeling the fabric of his shirt under his fingertips. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"Okay," Sawyer mumbled in annoyance as he tried wiggling out of his grip, "that's enough, you can stop."

Rowan ignored him and continued kissing his neck. He snaked his hand under Sawyer's shirt and caressed his belly with a thumb. Sawyer flinched away at the touch and made a small noise of discomfort.

Sawyer clenched his jaw. "I'm tired, Rowan."

He finally managed to pull himself free and rolled onto his side, facing away from him. Rowan scowled at being rejected, but didn't attempt to force the issue.

Instead, he pulled Sawyer close and spooned him from behind. He took the smaller man's hand in his own and intertwined their fingers together, bringing them to his lips and kissing every knuckle.

It was infuriating how affectionate Rowan was all the time. Sawyer had never met anyone who could be so clingy and touchy-feely twenty-four-seven without feeling drained after a few hours of it.

Just as Sawyer was drifting off, a loud boom of thunder made him jolt.

Rowan chuckled quietly behind him. "Are you scared of storms?" Sawyer didn't answer him and instead remained frozen in place. He felt Rowan lean over and press a kiss against the back of his head. "Don't worry. I'm here to protect you from any danger." Sawyer shivered at those words and could practically feel Rowan smirking behind him. "I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means fighting nature itself."

"I'm not afraid of storms," Sawyer grumbled defensively, "I just don't like sudden loud noises."

He snickered. "Sure."

Lightning flashed through the curtains followed by another clap of thunder. Sawyer shut his eyes tightly and clutched the pillow in his fists as tightly as possible.

Rowan coaxed Sawyer to roll back over to face him and brought his head to his chest. Sawyer listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart. He'd never admit it actually was pretty soothing.

"I'm not scared," Sawyer reiterated.

Rowan's hand rubbed his back in circles. "I know you aren't." Sawyer figured that was sarcasm. Another bolt of lightning filled the room in white light followed by another crack of thunder. He instinctively buried his face deeper into Rowan's chest and held onto his shirt tightly. "Shh, it's okay."

Next thing Sawyer knew, Rowan pulled the blanket to cover both of them, so the burst of white that filled the room was less overwhelming.

Sawyer's breathing slowed down after a couple minutes of being comforted by Rowan. The thunder and lightning outside wasn't bothering him anymore; it was only a mild inconvenience at this point.

...

Rowan was busy in the kitchen cooking lunch while Sawyer was washing up the dishes from their breakfast that morning. He finished drying the last plate and set it aside before grabbing a washcloth to wipe off the countertops. Rowan glanced over his shoulder and smiled at him.

"Thanks for your help today, my love," Rowan hummed.

Sawyer sighed, "yeah, whatever."

He was too tired to argue anymore with him. Anytime he would try, Rowan would silence him with a kiss or ignore him.

He felt like nothing more than an object to him these days, though he doubted there was any way to change that, so Sawyer just tried to remain patient and wait it out until he'd somehow manage to escape without a trace.

Rowan added spices to the pot and set the spoon aside. "Have you ever been fishing before?" Sawyer shrugged, setting down the washcloth and crossing his arms over his chest. "No? Well, I'll teach you if you want."

Sawyer watched Rowan drain the noodles from the water into the strainer before pouring them into two bowls. He poured marinara sauce on top and sprinkled parmesan cheese on each bowl.

"Here." Rowan placed one bowl down on the table and motioned for Sawyer to sit down beside him. He hesitated for a moment before obeying.

"It's ziti," Rowan explained, stirring his own pasta with a fork.

"I know what ziti is," Sawyer grunted and copied him by mixing his food too.

After lunch, Sawyer insisted he wanted to be alone and not follow Rowan around for once, which he reluctantly allowed him to have privacy in exchange for a kiss. The moment Rowan left the room, Sawyer rubbed at his mouth with disgust. He walked up to the bedroom and flopped on the bed face down. He laid there in silence for several minutes, unable to think clearly with all these thoughts racing through his mind.

It didn't take long for his exhaustion to catch up with him and lull him into sleep.

Sawyer wasn't sure how long he'd been out when he woke up to the feeling of lips on his neck and hands on his waist. Rowan was straddling him, pressing kisses across his neck and collarbone.

"I'm sorry for waking you, sweetheart," Rowan spoke softly. "You were making such adorable sounds while sleeping. I couldn't help myself." Sawyer tried sitting up, but Rowan forced him back down by pushing on his shoulders. "Stay," he growled low in his ear, sending shivers down Sawyer's spine. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Get off of me," Sawyer tried ordering.

Rowan tightened his grip on him until it became painful. "No," he replied firmly. "I'm tired of you pushing me away every time I try getting close." His hand found itself to the waistband of Sawyer's pants, dipping under the hem and exploring what was underneath. "Please just let me have this. I've been so patient with you."

Never had Rowan ever been this forceful. In a moment of panic, Sawyer punched him harder than he intended.

He only realized what he had done when he saw blood dripping from Rowan's nose as he released him in shock. He stumbled backwards off the bed, holding his bleeding nose. Sawyer watched with wide eyes.

"You're a fucking brat, you know that?" Rowan hissed through gritted teeth. Sawyer was frozen in fear, unable to move or speak in response.

Rowan yanked him off the bed and dragged him down the stairs. Sawyer clawed at his wrists futilely to no avail. Rowan seemed too angry to care. They stopped in front of the basement.

"No! No, stop, not there!" Sawyer had never heard his voice so raw with emotion before. "Please! I'm sorry!" He kicked and struggled wildly against Rowan's hold on him.

To his surprise, Rowan heard him out. He dragged him past to the basement, but Sawyer had no time to feel relief when he realized Rowan was leading him to the front door. Rowan pulled something from his pocket and opened it, revealing a key ring with at least two dozen keys on it. He unlocked the front door, and then proceeded to drag him through the snow and to the shed.

He shoved him inside and grabbed some rope off the wall, tying his ankles together along with both wrists behind his back. Sawyer writhed on the ground in agony as the ropes dug painfully into his flesh.

"Rowan," Sawyer whimpered weakly. "I'm sorry." He was already shivering from the cold, his thin pajamas providing little warmth against the bitter chill of winter outside. "I didn't mean to hit you."

"You should've thought about that before you did it," Rowan snapped. "But if you want space so badly, I'll do you a favor and give you it. You can stay out here for a night or two until you come to your senses." He marched back to the door and paused. "I'll come back with a blanket soon." Then slammed it shut behind him, leaving Sawyer alone in complete darkness.

It was freezing outside and Sawyer didn't even have a jacket on to keep him warm. He whimpered pitifully and tried rubbing his legs together to generate any semblance of heat at all, but all it did was rub the rope further into his skin.

All he could do now was wait helplessly until Rowan would return with something warmer. If he'd return at all.

Sawyer could hear the wind blowing against the shed's wooden walls, causing creaks and groans everywhere throughout the room. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Rowan left.

It could've been seconds or minutes or even hours by now. Every second felt like an eternity alone in the dark. Sawyer couldn't see anything around him, and all he could focus on was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Eventually he began shivering uncontrollably as the cold air seeped through his skin, freezing every inch of his body. He curled up on his side, trying desperately to conserve body heat and prevent hypothermia from setting in too fast.

Time passed and Sawyer continued shivering in silence until he heard footsteps outside the shed.

Rowan swung open the door and carried a lantern inside, illuminating the room in dim orange light. Sawyer's eyes stung from the sudden brightness flooding his vision after being in the pitch black for so long.

"Hey, darling." Rowan's voice sounded apologetic as he walked over to where Sawyer was lying on the ground and knelt down beside him. "I brought you a blanket and some soup to warm you up." He set aside the soup and draped the large amber blanket around Sawyer's trembling frame, tucking it under him to provide maximum insulation against the frigid air around them. "Can you sit up?"

Sawyer nodded and struggled to lift himself upright against the wall. Rowan helped him into a sitting position and sat in front of him with the soup in his lap.

He noticed Rowan's face was bruised from where he punched him. He didn't feel guilty about it though. If anything, it made Sawyer happy that he'd at least had hurt him a little bit before he got thrown into this damn shed like an animal.

Rowan pulled out a spoon from his coat pocket and dipped it into the soup, holding it out for Sawyer to eat from.

Sawyer leaned forward and took a sip from the spoon. The broth was still hot, warming his insides instantly and helping to soothe his aching muscles and bones.

"Thank you," Sawyer mumbled as Rowan fed him another spoonful. "I'm sorry I hit you." He figured that's what Rowan wanted, an apology. "I just panicked. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, precious, I know that." He pressed a kiss against his forehead and wiped away tears from his cheek with a thumb. "I shouldn't have done what I did either. You've been through a lot lately and I've just been so stressed from it all. I need to be more patient with you."

"Does that mean I can come out?" Sawyer asked hopefully.

"No." The shorter man's expression fell. "You still hit me, and that hurt me." Rowan pouted and cupped his cheeks. "You're going to stay here for a little while longer and think about what you did. Once I think you've learned your lesson, then we'll talk again." He pulled away and stood up from the floor, dusting off his pants. "I'll leave the lantern here for you. If you need anything else, just yell."

And with that, he left and closed the door behind him again, plunging Sawyer into darkness once more.

#rowan oc #sawyer oc #whump #tw noncon #noncon touching #tw noncon touching #yandere whumper #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #male whumpee #male whumper #possessive whumper #noncon whump

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