#case my poor tortured child

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Control | William “Case” Calderon

Summary: Case’s nightmares have started getting worse. Marshall grows concerned while Adler warns him.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: Panic attacks, nightmares, zombies??, graphic descriptions of violence, rotting, torture, implied brainwashing, disassociation, Bo6 spoilers under the cut

A/N: this is just an expansion of how it’s mentioned that Case screams during the night in the Rook requested by a lovely anon, also yes, I might’ve taken advantage of the opportunity to make Adler shirtless, shhh, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

He didn’t know why he was here again.

Harsh lights flooded his eyesight, the sterile smell of plastic gloves and white tiled flooring filling his nose. He was walking somewhere.

These halls were familiar. Red paint lined them, a phone sitting on a round table, and ahead of him—there it was.

The bathysphere.

Case tried digging his heels into the ground, the scratchy texture of the strange hospital-like gown they had him in. He couldn’t do this again. Not after the first trials, the first experiments, they had ruined him.

“Behave, Case-One.”

The men at his sides, soldiers, Pantheon, dragged him along regardless of his protests, right into the center.

An overwhelming sense of dread overcame him. He knew what happened here, what would happen. They’d let the water surround him, he’d be trapped, and they would—

He wouldn’t let it happen again. Couldn’t.

Case, or William, wrapped his hand around one of the guard’s arms, yanking forward and slamming his fist into the man’s head. He’d been carrying an AK-74. He lifted the gun, pulling the trigger, only for the man—soldier—thing in front of him to shatter into pieces like a poorly constructed doll.

He took a step back, turned, and tried to run only for the floor to melt beneath him. He was sinking, falling into some sort of abyss, and then she was there.

Harrow.

Everything was solid again, and now he was in a room. Bulletproof glass separated him and Jane Harrow as she looked through with cold precision.

She was a liar.

A traitor.

She’d taken everything from him and given him what he owed his life to all in one fell sweep.

“Good to see you again, Case.”

She smiled, but there was nothing warm behind her expression. He knew it was just a mask, like a plaster covering for the rotten thing that lay underneath. Case had seen what she wanted for the future of her little project.

A side door opened, and they dragged a small bearded man in, the gas surrounding him, the guard having a gas mask on to protect himself.

Just a few minutes of exposure, and Case knew what would happen. His pulse would start hammering, every fight or flight instinct kicking in as his body tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with him, searching through his past experiences to find a way to fix this, to fix him.

Except there wasn’t a cure.

His vision would start blurring at the edges, turning different shades of television static as the man in front of him turned into a creature of rotting flesh and peeling skin, ripped clothes, and undead eyes that knew nothing but hunger.

He would be terrified. Again. And he’d attack the thing. Again.

It had happened over and over, this gradual decline into madness and being completely out of control, watching his body act from the outside.

He tried resisting it, and he always failed. Still, he tried this time, even as his blood boiled beneath his skin, a creature trapped in his ribcage begging, demanding to be let out as he tried keeping the lock together.

But one more glance over at her, her sadistic smile, the knowing glint in her eyes, her poisonous lips, and her tongue that was made of a noose, and something in him shattered.

The lock.

He had lost control.

There was no resisting now, he knew that as the resounding screams of the man bounced around the inside of his head, his eyes pressing into his eyes, gouging, hands and nails shoving and ripping, maiming the poor man like the animal that they’d made Case into.

The creature he was.

Blood was everywhere, under his hands, his fingernails, in his eyes and staining the floors and his body, things he couldn’t scrub away, burning brands onto his skin and mind that not even the brainwashing, the torture, could make go away.

He opened his mouth, maybe to bite, maybe to yell, maybe to scream at the hand that fed him a poisoned apple, and absolutely nothing came out.

His body thrashed, clawing at itself as if his very bones were outgrowing his skin, tears of anger and sadness and confusion at himself and someone else—he couldn’t remember it now, who’d done this to him, but he wanted to hurt them.

William wanted to hurt them. Case didn’t know what he wanted.

“Stop him—“

Hands were on him, gloved, rough, trying to pull him around, restrain him, but he wouldn’t let them. He pulled, punched, anything he could, he couldn’t let them do this to him again.

Then their dark, near-void black helmets fell off, and he was greeted with bloodied pale skin, peeling and revealing the stringy, bloody muscular system underneath, the near glowing eyes with something otherworldly in them, something beyond hate and agony.

They growled and slammed their teeth together instead of speaking, and it was then that he was able to scream, and he knew it because he heard it echo around the room as they held him down, and began clawing into them with their blood-caked nails.

Who had they been before?

What were they now?

Would he turn into this?

Desperation turned to pure terror as he tried battering them away, feeling his skin rip and shred beneath them, every bite, every hit, going deeper and deeper, infecting him.

His vision blurred around the edges again, this time he assumed solely from tears, as he imagined—hoped, he was blacking out.

“Hold him down—“

A blurry voice faded in and out, hands still holding him down. But this wasn’t the rough, scratchy feeling of elastic gloves or excessive force on his battered body.

“Jesus, Case, snap the fuck out of it!”

He opened his eyes.

He was in his bed, Adler was on his right, Marshall on his left. Both held down an arm, maybe a leg if they could reach it. Sevati walked through the doorway of his room, rubbing her eyes.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Her accent rolled thickly off her tongue as she analyzed the situation, their Case laying on a bed, forehead covered in sweat, pupils dilated and panting for breath, with Adler and Marshall holding him down.

“Case here is clearly experiencing some…issues.”

Adler said, a cigarette tucked neatly between his lips, a hint of smoke rolling off the end. He was wearing nothing but some tan cargo pants and the hint of boxers peeking out from there. He tried not to look too closely at the tiny hint of stomach chub followed by muscles with a thin layer of fat over them.

Marshall had been up late, wearing his work clothes, but missing the glasses he usually let himself wear when not on a mission. He had some turtleneck on that had to be itchy, and a pair of random military-grade pants.

They both eyed Case warily, clearly not knowing when the next complete breakdown might be.

Sev stood in the doorway, leaning against it, clad in only some shorts and a t-shirt, probably having just woken up.

“Let him go back to sleep. We have things to do tomorrow, and this can wait until morning.”

Her word seemed to be final, with Adler giving a noncommittal grunt and taking his cigarette between his fingers. There was a knowing look in his eye as if he recognized whatever he’d seen. The cigarette smelled like the expensive kind from where Case was.

His body slowly loosened and relaxed as whatever the hell had been in his dreams faded, as did the memory of it. He didn’t even know what had scared him that badly, into attacking his allies while in a safe location.

As the others walked out of the room, he just hoped he might remember the next one. Maybe write it down, to make sense of it.

Next time. He hoped there wasn’t a next time.

Some things were better left unknown.

~

“You can’t deny it now.”

Marshall watched as Adler flicked his cigarette, taking it out of his mouth, the scar on one side flexing as he let out a deep breath of smoke, eyes almost closing.

“Sure, something’s wrong with him. We’ve all got something wrong with us, his problem is just more…noticeable.”

He tried reasoning. Case was a good man, he was useful, did what he told, and did it very damn well, at that. They couldn’t afford to lose someone as valuable as him, which made the issue of his…problems even more troubling.

The screaming at night had been normal, or normal for someone in the military. But then it had turned to screaming about Harrow, her betrayal, about Pantheon, too specific to be nothing.

Now this, the fighting? He’d heard the floors creaking at night but assumed it was nothing, maybe someone going to get water, but knowing Case was this unstable wasn’t very reassuring. Hell, he nearly took Marshall out while not even conscious, what might he do if he caught one of them off guard at night?

Marshall had seen the man perform silent takedowns. He had a freakish amount of strength, and you didn’t hear a thing until the body hit the ground. Sometimes not even that.

“Look, I’ve seen something like this before.”

Adler’s raspy voice interrupted his thoughts, as the older man shifted to lean against the desk in the room they were now in. He took his cigarette between his fingers once again, hands waving in the usual expressive motions he had when talking.

It was a Russell Adler Trademark at this point.

“It was an old experiment, nothing you need to know too much about, but the kid’s showing symptoms. Not good ones.”

Another puff of smoke. The old snake probably knew more than he was telling Marshall, in fact, he almost guaranteed it.

“He hardly has any records, all blacked out or mysteriously ‘missing’.”

Adler took another puff of smoke at that information, rose from leaning, and moved to walk out.

“Find them.”

Simple words, a nearly impossible task.

Marshall didn’t know how Woods had put up with Adler so long, his attitude, his personality, hell, everything about him was just infuriating.

But he’d figure it out. He had to.

For Case.

[fatehbaz]

.

[2-dsimp]

Any of the guys with a pregnancy kink?

On the father, the spirit, and the son, pregnant people are fine as fuck. I always be looking respectfully.

- 🤰

【The H.S.M Scenarios; Pregnancy kink edition】

—————;———-;———

Cw: MDNI NSFW 🔞 Fem reader, pregnancy kink

————;—-;————

“Atta girl, taking in every single drop like a good mommy~ Just lay back on me wife. I wanna get that cute tummy of yours all plump n full of me again and again—Fuck!”

Nokka the husband, this guys a no brainer. He’s so confident in his seed that he doesn’t even need a pregnancy test to check if he had knocked you up with his baby. But Your husband will let you do so if only to prove that his elite sperm had done its job well. in making his wife’s belly swell up beautifully with his potential son. And hence the moment you started showing a baby bump, your meager time alone at home would diminish. As this man is constantly on you like white on rice. He’s rubbing your belly possessively with his big hand. Watching football while having you warm his cock. Of which he complained got so rock hard that it was borderline uncomfortable for him to even sit wearing his baggy sweats. All because of how his wife was lookin too damn irresistible in that pregnancy glow. (And just in general… this man’s a bonifide caveman simp for his wife)

“Awe my poor player 2~ is our little player 3 acting up too much? Don’t worry! I’ll tell em to take it easy on you mkay mamma? Just spread them legs wide for me so that lil bugger can get the message”

Soma the Zombie, always dreamed of having a team of professional gamers to carry on his legacy of being number one in the world. He often joked around saying that 3 kids wouldn’t be enough. Since he’d never get enough of seeing that radiant glow you’d possess when you’re heavy with his child. And ever since he got infected his obsession with keeping you full got even more demanding. The Zombie had his tentacles that sprouted from him squeezed and kneaded your breasts for any source of milk to suckle on. while his thick gelatinous tendril cock squirmed itself inside your well used cunt. His suckers messaged against your love cannal trying to cease the baby’s incessant kicking by giving them a taste of their own medicine.

“B-but sunshine won’t this u-upset our little starshine? N-no? Then I guess it’ll be f-fine. Just don’t p-push yourself too hard, I only w-want you to f-feel good my love”

Moros the Torturer, would be considering himself blessed to even be able to have such happiness in raising a child with you. He’d always make sure to cater to your every need during your pregnancy. You’ve got a craving for baked goods? He’ll bake enough for a whole football team. Need a deep tissue massage? The Torturer’s on the case, after consulting with Koji the medic what would be the best spots to soothe for his pregnant darling. You’d have to be the one to try and initiate any sort of intimacy to get his gears going. Since he’s a timid gentle giant who’d cry if under the impression that he somehow hurt you. By delving his thick uncircumcised cock so deep inside your wet snatch that its fat tip was kissing languidly against your cervix. With each gentle but jerky buck of his semi inexperienced hips. His scarred hands would always subconsciously find themselves on your stomach. As he’s just so grateful at how now he’s got two stunning guiding lights that’ll brighten up his day.

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

Blood Lust

Chapter II

!pairings: Vampire!Ot8!Straykids x Reader

Genre: Supernatural AU, Angst, fluff, gore, MDNI!

!TW!: violence, mentions of SA, stalking (sort of), mentions of murder, death, lots of gore, blood, torture, BDSM mentions, consumption of blood, strangulation marks, MDNI. [Please let me know if I missed anything!]

[A/n: Sorry I haven't posted recently I was in an accident a few months back and I've been trying to focus on my mental health but I'm back and will hopefully post more soon I have some WIPS but yeah!]

“We can help you if you’d like. We can kill Park Sungwoo.”

The men in front of you say their voices holding no emotion as their eyes gaze into your soul. “You,” You breathe out, “Can do that?” Your voice is shaking and unstable, but your eyes are shiny as if you were a child who just woke up on Christmas.

“If that’s what you’d like.” One of them shrugs, but you turn your head downwards and stare at the rubber playground floor, “N-no I was just joking, that was a joke, I don’t want that.” You say, tightly clenching your fists,  “But if we did do it, if we did kill him for you, it would make things easier for you, no?” One of the figures says you can feel their intense gaze on your shaking form, making you uncomfortable.

“We only want to help you.”

The man behind you speaks into your ear again making you shiver at the heat from his breath contrasting the cold winds that blow past all of you. “But why..?” You turn your head to gaze at the man with dead eyes. Even though you are so close to him you can’t see his face. There is a large shadow that covers the top half of his face exposing only his lips and chin, but you can still see small peeks of freckles dotting his pale skin.

“You clearly need help, if you don’t want us to kill the man we could help you escape. Would you prefer that?” One of the figures speaks up, It’s hard to tell who of the eight men in front of you is speaking seeing as they are all shrouded in the night's darkness. 

“He won’t let me leave, there’s nothing you can do about it.” You whimper, eyes starting to gloss over again as you choke back tears, “I shouldn’t even be out right now I- if he finds me not at the house then-” You’re cut off by the man behind you pressing his body against yours and wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a back hug. “Don’t worry about that, just let us take care of it.” He whispers into your ear.

You freeze at his touch, your breath hitching, “Yeah right, even if you did help me run away or kill him I’d still owe something to you, wouldn’t I?” You breathe out whimpering as tears splatter onto the ground, the man behind you chuckles, “Well you aren’t wrong we do want something from you in exchange.” You crane your neck up to try and look at him, “What would you want from me?” You ask, “All you’d have to do in return is let us drink your blood.” He states casually, your face quickly turns to one of shock and disgust, quickly pulling away from him and spinning around to face him, “Are you all some sort of cult?” You ask in an uneasy voice wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort more so than protection.

The man from behind you takes short strides towards you, “I guess in a way it is something like that.” He hums, leaning down to take your hand in his, “But that’s not the case.” He smirks as he comes into the dim lighting of a nearby streetlamp,

He has pale skin dotted with constellations of freckles, shoulder-length blonde hair that shines even under poor lighting, and his eyes are a soft pink which puzzles you because that shouldn’t be possible. Still, even with his unique eye color, his looks are incredible, he has fairy-like features and he’s rather petite, he brings your finger up to his lips parting them. He drags your finger over his canines,  “Why don’t you use that pretty-little head of yours to think of something a bit more outside the box.” He smirks, “You uh- cosplay?” You ask dumbly, making the man laugh and shake his head, “Use that imagination of yours.” he smiles showing off his sharp, pointed teeth, “You’re… Vampires…?” Your question, your face scrunched up in confusion at having to rack your brain for even the most outrageous possibilities.

“Bingo, you caught us.”

You laugh in disbelief pulling your hand away from him “Yeah right, and I'm the Easter Bunny.” You mock in a sudden moment of bravery. The blond man pouts, his brows furrowing at your response, “He’s telling the truth.” Another one speaks up. “Alright prove it then.” You challenge them, you figure the worst they can do to you would be nothing compared to the ‘punishment’ you'd receive from Sungwoo if you were caught outside of the house without his permission.

The blond perks up at your challenge, “alright, sure” he accepts before pointing over to a closed shop across the street from the playground, you look at him expectantly and in the blink of an eye he's somehow managed to appear across the street before suddenly reappearing in front of you.

You freeze, ‘there's no way there has to be an explanation to how he made it there and back so fast’ You think to yourself, you feel frozen in place like a bucket of ice was dropped over you, your eyes are wide and your breathing becomes uneven, the man takes a step closer to you forcing you to take small steps away from him ‘Think [Y/n] how can you get away from these men… How can you stay safe?”

 “Don’t be scared, we won’t hurt you.”

Another one of the men steps forward from the shadows and into the dim lighting, this man is taller than the blond with a lean build, smooth milky-white skin, with deep ruby red eyes so dark they could almost be mistaken for black, and unlike the blond his hair is a jet black quite the contrast to his friend but they are similar lengths. He radiates an elegant aura and is very poised and confident as he approaches. He smirks at the frightened look on your face and your frozen stiff body. You gulp as you watch him make his approach toward you “So do you believe us now?” He smirks 

‘If they are really vampires, why bother helping me…’ you think to yourself “You said you'd help me, so long as I let you drink my blood right?” You question, and they nod at you, “Then why bother with me when you could drink anybody else's blood for free,  what's special about me?” You follow up your previous question, “Simple,” 

the blond speaks up.

He takes long strides towards you, before leaning down and taking your small hand in his larger one, his fingers delicately holding your hand dragging it up to his face, you can feel his smooth skin graze your fingertips as he slowly moves your hand trailing up from his throat to his face. You shiver as your wrist makes contact with the point of his nose, feeling his warm breath tickling the skin of your wrist, your breath hitching as a moan leaves his parted lips, you can see his eyes roll back his long lashes fluttering as his eyelids close and his knees buckle before he finally finished his answer.

“You smell unlike anything we've ever encountered before ”

You can hear your heart beating through your ears as your face involuntarily flushes as his reaction. You finally clear your head to think straight about their offer ‘a group of vampires who can kill Sungwoo for me… As long as they can drink my blood.” You shakily take in a shallow breath of air, ‘How is this even possible, unless, no they have to be lying there's no way.’ 

“So what do you think?” One of the figures speaks up, and you flinch, ‘There’s no way this is real, I must’ve been knocked out by Sungwoo..’ you mentally shake your head in disbelief.

In reality, you stare at the floor with no emotions on your face like an empty book. “You do have someone you want us to kill, no?” The voice speaks again, and you can sense his intense gaze on you as you contemplate the idea.

Your lips part before snapping shut, you swallow a thick glob of spit and clench your free hand. ‘Maybe they really can help me..’ You raise your gaze from off the rubber flooring of the playground and stare at all the men in front of you, you have a determined look, scrunched-up eyebrows, and a cute pout on your face.

“All I’d have to do is let you drink my blood?”

You whisper towards the men, “And after you do,” You swallow again out of nervousness, “You’ll kill Park Sungwoo for me?” you ask, your eyes are now glossy with fresh unshed tears but the serious look on your face has yet to disappear. ‘It doesn’t matter what they are, as long as they keep their word and help me.’ You decide.

You remove your hand from the blond's hold, his fingers gripping down on your hand before finally releasing you, you inhale quickly closing your eyes, and hold your hand out to the remaining six men within the shadows. You can hear a few of them chuckle before they make their way out from the dark and into the poor lighting of the street lamp.

They are all handsome, each with unique features. The one who steps up to take your hand is a well-built man with dark-black curly hair that is short compared to the other two you've met thus far, he has heavy eyes that are a dark shade of blue, and a wide nose that you find all too attractive, he too has rather light skin but he is just a hint tanner than the other two you’ve seen.

“So all we’ll have to do is kill this man for you and in return, you’ll give us your blood, that all sound correct to you?” He asks, his cold hand intertwined with yours in a formal handshake, “Yes.” You state determination laced in your unsteady voice.

The man smirks before he brings your hand up to his plush lips like the blond had done earlier, but instead of swiping your finger over his teeth, he brings it between his upper and lower teeth before biting down, puncturing a small hole into your finger, “Ah~” you groan out, It hurts a little but it also feels strange. You think to yourself as he begins to swirl his tongue over the new cut on your finger collecting the small drops of blood before he takes your finger deeper into his mouth and moans at the taste of your unique blood. 

_

The reason Chan and his coven had even approached you on this chilly night was ‘cause they had smelt your sweet blood and had to know where the erotic smell was coming from, and that’s when they had found you, sitting on the swings all alone late at night, clearly roughed up. 

They could smell your blood and how much of it was seeping from your smooth skin, and even worse than being able to smell the bloody state you are in they could very clearly see the print of large hands wrapped around your neck formed in a dark reddish-blue color along with some smaller bruises surrounding it that looked much like hickeys. They could tell something had happened.

_

Chan is busy sucking on your finger eyes half closed as they roll back, he slowly removes it from his mouth with a wet pop, a string of his saliva connecting the two of you, he has an erotic expression painted on his face as he savors the last remnants of your blood left on his tongue and again moans at the sweet taste. 

Your face is flushed at the scene that just took place, you quickly hold your hand close to your chest, “W-what was that about?” You squeak out.

Looking down at the cut you notice it's gone “Wait, what happened to the cut?” You ask, still staring at your finger in amazement, He chuckles, grabbing ahold of your hand  and swiping his wet, soft tongue over where the cut was, “Well, our saliva has healing properties so our prey doesn't bleed out on us.” He says leaving one last swipe of his tongue to your finger. “Woah, But seriously what was that about?” You pull your hand away once more.

“Well, you did say we could have your blood.” The blond shrugs his shoulders, one of the men who has adorable chubby cheeks and reminds you of a squirrel whines, “Hyung that's no fair I wan’ some of her sweet-smelling blood too.” He pouts, but you quickly shake your head and take a few small steps away from the men ‘Can they even be called men?’ you wonder to yourself but shake away the thought.

“Nobody else gets to until after you kill Sungwoo for me.” You madly blush, your finger feels tingly and hot, almost a numb feeling, and when you look down at it the small puncture is nowhere to be seen, you're positive he poked a hole there but looking at it now it's not there, it's so strange to think his spit really made it disappear as if it never even happened.

The squirrel-like man pouts even more at your words and grumbles under his breath but accepts it, he too is pretty with black hair as well but he is more of a jet-black with a hint of blue as an undertone that reaches the back of his neck in length his eyes are a unique burgundy brown color which is mesmerizing to you.

“Well since we’ll be helping each other I think we should get to know each other.” The man who shook your hand earlier speaks up clapping his hands together, “Okay,” you nod, “I’m [L/n] [Y/n].” You introduce yourself albeit a bit warily, “I’m Chan.” He introduces himself and you bow your head toward him. A lean man, with very dark purple hair, speaks up next “I’m Minho.” He introduces curtly bowing his head to you but even as he does so you can feel his sharp gaze on you, his eyes match his hair with their purple hue. 

Another strong-looking buff man with black hair and teal streaks speaks up “I’m Changbin.” He says to you with a small smile on his face, “I’m Jisung.” The man who was pouting earlier smiles at you and you return it, a man with puppy-like eyes approaches you “Hi [Y/n] I’m Seungmin.” He too introduces and the last boy approaches you, he has long black hair with streaks of platinum-blond at the front which sort of reminds you of an Oreo.

 “I’m Jeongin.” He too smiles at you. “The two you met earlier were Hyunjin and Felix.” The blond one who you assume is Felix waves and smiles at you with his fairy features, and Hyunjin smirks at you making you blush ever so slightly, “It’s nice to meet you all.” You say bowing to the eight men. 

“Well then [Y/n], how would you like us to help you with Sungwoo?”

Chan asks a sadistic grin on his face that makes you shiver at the sight. His grin reminds you of the face Sungwoo makes at you and it sends you into a small panic but you quickly try to compose yourself.

 “I’m not sure.” You answer with a frown on your face, Chan hums and takes steps toward you “Would you like for us to decide then?” He asks, leaning close to you and tilting his head.

You look down at the floor away from the proximity of the two of you and slowly nod your head, “Alright then.” He smiles before turning around and facing his men, “We’ll be in charge of disposing of the pest bothering [Y/n] So,” He claps his hands together again, 

“Let's get going.” He says a dark twisted smile appearing on his face.

_

Sungwoo wakes up to the sound of pattering feet in the apartment, he groans and reaches over to his bedside table and grabs his phone checking the time to see it’s merely 5:30 in the morning, “God dammit [Y/n]..” He exhales before stretching in his bed and getting up.

He makes his way out of his room and down the hallway to the kitchen which he finds is empty, but before he makes his way to continue his search for you he notices that your shoes are missing from their usual spot. He goes to open the door but before he can he hears a clatter of noise coming from down the hall.

He makes his way down the hallway and to your room at the end of the narrow hall, taking notice that the door is ever so slightly ajar, and peeks in only to see you sitting on your unmade bed. 

He shifts his eyes around the room but sees nothing out of the ordinary, no packed bags or anything you could have done to make so much noise so he decides to push his way into your room.

“[Y/n] There you are, I thought you had run away for a minute there.” He laughs, a fake soothing smile plastered on his face that makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You sit there watching him approach you with a dead look on your face, you give off no emotions and simply sit there “Park Sungwoo.” You whisper. His grin widens as he hears you whisper his name, “That’s me,” He grins wickedly, “I heard some loud sounds coming from your room care to explain, hm?” He asks, trying to act cute and less intimidating. Truthfully he’s hoping to use you again, you certainly seem pliant enough for him to do something to you now.

God he can't help but think of you all tied up,  rope tied around your body all pliant and waiting for him, you'd look so cute with a black blindfold over your eyes, calling out to him as he watches you wiggle in your confinements.

“I’m sorry for what I did last night but you needed to be reminded of who you belong to.” He says in a mock apology.

“You know how much I hate punishing you but since you did such a good job taking it last night why don’t I give you a treat, yea?” He asks, pouting his lips at you and pretending to coo at you.

As he takes another step toward you he finds himself staring up at you from off the ground, finding he can’t move. 

“What the hell! [Y/n] What’s going on?” He yells at you, but you only continue to sit there on the bed staring down at him, “I wouldn’t worry about her right now mate.” A voice calls out.

Sungwoo can feel the floor thump beneath him, a set of footsteps walking over to where he’s sprawled out on the floor.

He looks up and sees a man staring down at him, his face void of any emotion except for an icy glare. The man above him sneers, “I can’t believe something as pitiful as you was being such a pest to poor [Y/n], You don’t deserve to even look at her.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Sungwoo shouts, twisting his body every which way to try and wiggle free of whatever was holding him down. “Ew, you’re right hyung, whatever this vermin is it’s disgusting.” Jisung appears beside Chan and scrunches his face into a disgusted sneer at Sungwoo.

“Why the hell are you all in my house, [Y/n] did you let them in? Fucking bitch!” Sungwoo angrily spits out, turning his fury to you.

A scream is ripped out of Sungwoo as he feels his limbs twist in ways that shouldn’t be humanly possible. He can hear the sounds of cracking and popping as his limbs move on their own, breaking his bones.

He shifts his eyes to look up and sees eight pairs of eyes staring down at him each with a matching sadistic grin to go with them.  

Sungwoo turns his gaze to you with a pleading look on his face “[Y/n], please help me!” He begs hot tears streaming down his cheeks “I said help me you fucking slut!” He yells his face red with rage when you don't immediately move to help him. Your hands twitch and you have to hold yourself back from wanting to help your abuser because even with the help of these eight strange men you're worried he'll manage to get his hands on you and try to drag you down with him.

“Did she sleep with you guys? Is that it, she's convinced you to get rid of me with that cunt of hers.” He scoffs trying his hardest to provoke these men.

You sit there staring down at the man who has tortured you for years begging for you to help him escape the pain when you've experienced a feeling similar to this for years.

“Please, please! I don't know what I did, but stop, I'm begging you!” Sungwoo wails at the burning feeling of his limbs twisting. His words and actions doing complete 180’s trying different tactics to be set free.

Chan stares down at the squirming man at his feet, he takes a step forward and steps on his fingers using the full weight of his body, he can hear them crunch and crack under his leather boot.

“Such filthy hands,” Chan wrinkles his nose at the wailing man, “Chan just get it over with,” Minho rolls his eyes as he takes a step closer to him, Chan looks around to see the others agreeing with him, “come on hyung~ Hurry up I don't know how much longer I can hold off.” Jisung whines walking over and sitting next to you 

“Ha! Please, even in death you'll never get rid of me [Y/n], No matter what happens you'll be stuck with me!” Sungwoo screams at you as Chan crouches down and runs his long, sharp black-painted nails across Subgwoo’s neck.

He gags at the feeling of Shape nails cutting through his skin, feeling the hot crimson blood drip from his sliced neck, and gurgling on it when it spills into his mouth. His eyes roll to look at you, blood slipping through his parted lips.

Your breath and heartbeat speed up as you catch his gaze, you feel sick as you watch a twisted grin smear onto his face, his eyes turning to crescents and his once-white teeth stained red. The eight men back away from him as he takes shallow breaths finally releasing him from the invisible restraints.

You can't see anything other than the lifeless body of Sungwoo, his last words ringing through your ears, your bloodied and scabbed back throbbing with a scorching heat like you can still feel the dull knife carving his name into you.

You stare as Chan slits his wrist with his nails nice and deep letting his blood drip onto Sungwoo's body, you watch as the others follow his lead and do the same thing letting their blood spill into his lifeless body, “What are you doing?” Your hoarse voice questions them, a few turn their heads to look at you before Minho speaks up, “Well, Vampires burn in the sun, and so does our blood.” He shrugs as if it were common sense, “So when the sun rises you'll open the blinds and he'll burn up?” you question back, “Smart girl.” He chuckles, his smooth voice sending shivers up your spine.

“Alright, now all we have to do is wait.” Chan says, you don't pay much attention to the words he speaks instead focusing on the wound on his wrist closing up as if nothing ever happened. Chan follows your gaze and looks down at his now wound-less arm, there's still small drops of blood pooling around his veins but the cut that once was there is nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, yeah, we can hurt ourselves all we want but there are specific conditions that need to be met if we were ever to die.” Hyunjin shrugs watching the small looks between you and Chan before looking down at his own healed wrist.

You're not sure how to respond so you hum and watch as he pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and wipes the dried blood from his arm before handing it around for the others to use, “So~ can I have some of your blood now?” Jisung bounces onto the bed springing you up and pulling a gasp from you, you fall back in the bed and he lays back next to you resting his head on his palm, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh uhm, now?” You ask your eyes flitting away from the pouting man, “mhm!” He nods a wide smile curving his lips, you sit up just enough to see Sungwoo’s body, his head still turned to face you, his soulless eyes staring blankly at you, “C- can we wait,” you choke, “I just- Not yet.” you whisper out, he watches your face twist into sad and fearful mix making his eyebrows furrow.

He grunts before sitting up and looking to see what you're looking at, noticing it's Sungwoo he stands up and makes his way to the body on the floor, stepping so close that the blood that's pooled on the ground splashes when he steps in it, his face scrunches up at the sight of his shoes stained with red, but he ignores for the moment crouching down and turning Sungwoo's cold and stiff head away from your direction before standing back up and giving the body a good kick and making his way back to you.

The others watch the interaction between the two of you and of course, the bastard that Jisung kicked in amusement, Chan directing an adoring smile towards Jisung.

Ji makes his way back to you and once more flopping onto the bed making the mattress bounce under his weight sending a smile your way, “How ‘bout now?” He asks, you let out an amused breath at his sweet act, “Ji don't push her.” Changing scolds, Jisung pouts at his words “I'm not,” he whips his head towards you, “am I?” He asks his brows creased in concern, his big doe eyes sparkling at you.

You're not sure how to respond, yes he's being pushy but the look he's giving you makes you want to let him have anything he could ever want, but you've long since learned that looks can be deceiving, back in high school you thought Sungwoo was an angel and to be fair he never gave you a reason to believe otherwise until after your confession when he swept you away and forced you to stay away from the rest of the world, constantly monitoring who you talked to and where you went, “Well.” you start but pause, still unsure, you look down and stare at your fiddling hands, “You can say no to him “ Someone speaks, shocking you out of your thoughts, “Oh uhm.” “Don't worry about saying no, even if we have a deal if you don't feel comfortable with him doing it right now say no.” Minho states firmly his cat-like eyes boring into your wide ones.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe out clenching your hands worried they'll be mad at you or even hurt you for not wanting to let him drink from you just yet, you know they said that their saliva could heal whatever they inflict on you but your brain just can't help but think that if you say no they'll hurt you.

You're once again pulled out of your thoughts this time by someone taking your hands into theirs, you notice you left small crescent shapes cuts on your hands from your nails, Felix quickly lifts your hands to his mouth leaving small licks to the cuts making them disappear, “look the sun's out.” Seungmin points out walking over and opening the blinds to let the sunlight in, you watch as the light slowly crawls up the floors, all the boys avoiding it as it makes its way past them to Sungwoo.

You watch as his body begins to smoke, letting out a soft smile you can't help but feel happy it's over, watching his body go up in small flames, “We should go before people start waking up or before it gets too bright out.” Chan says, walking over to the exit of your room, the others following his lead, Jisung hopping up from the bed and turning to you offering his hand.

“Come with us.”

He smiles, and you look over to the others seeing them smile at you and nod, you hesitate before placing your hand in his cold one, he lifts you off the bed and ushers you to the exit with the others.

You watch as they make jokes together and talk walking behind all of them, you pause halfway through the hallway looking over your shoulder for one last look at Sungwoo, you shiver at his body his head turned to face where you stand in the hallway his body still smoking and ashes flying in the air of the sunlit room, you finally feel free of the shackles he forced onto you. 

Sighing in relief that you will no longer be a prisoner to him, you walk away no longer worried about your future.

----------------------------------------------------------

<---Prev. Master List Next--->

Please reblog and like if you enjoyed!

[A/n: Sorry one last author's note! If you'd like to be put on my taglist for this series please let me know so I can add you :D]

taglist: @babygirlskz98 @fr34k4c1dr41n @itzreetal987

[demon-country]

Something I think people fail to take into consideration when talking about Stolas antis is that pretty much everything they complain about stems from the fact that they wholeheartedly believe that Stolas raped Blitz and trapped him in a coercive sexual relationship. The fact that the narrative explicitly states otherwise doesn't matter to them, that's the big sin that all of their other complaints build off of.

They tend to have really gross ideas about sex workers in general to start with, like thinking they can't consent or like their job no matter what, which makes them genuinely believe there's no way Blitz could have agreed to the full moon deal of his own volition or enjoyed it in any way. Blitz gets turned into a poor, helpless victim who has no other way of financially supporting himself and Loona (who they treat like a young teenager rather than an adult who can get a different job to help support their income), and who is so scared of Stolas that he can't deny him anything, despite him literally telling Stolas no multiple times and standing up to the likes of Mammon with no issues and even Satan once he got incensed enough.

So in their eyes, the deal has to be rape by virtue of it being sex work, and to them sexual abuse is the worst possible kind of abuse there is. Which then makes Stolas a monster compared to everyone else in the show and thus worthy of their contempt in a way that literally no one else is. Torture and murder are lesser crimes to them when compared to sexual abuse, so no matter what anyone else does it doesn't hold a candle to Stolas' supposed crimes.

That's why they think he plays the victim when he gets sad and work themselves into a rabid fervor over it, because they think he's sexually abusive towards Blitz and thus shouldn't be allowed to be shown in a sympathetic manner. That's why they're so quick to jump on the idea that he abuses Octavia (neglect is abuse), because if he's abusive in one way then he must be abusive in other ways as well. That's why they think he fetishizes imps, despite only having shown sexual interest in one. That's why they don't care about any of the abuse directed towards him and want him dead and mutilated, because they think he deserves it as punishment. That's why they think both the narrative and fans are babying Stolas and that his flaws are being swept under the rug, because those things are denying that any abuse happened in the first place and that runs counter to their own beliefs.

Their disgust at everything else he does is nearly performatory in a way, because they likely wouldn't care about it in any other case. Very few of them would give even the slightest shit about his classism/racism nor would they have noticed it at all, if it weren't for the fact that they were actively looking for reasons to hate him. The majority of them wouldn't care about how emotional he is or that he doesn't always give Octavia (who, remember, is only a few months shy of being an adult and not a young child who requires constant supervision) his full attention at all times. They wouldn't say he's being babied or turned into a "misunderstood uwu crybaby" or that he'd be better off as a villain again. They wouldn't turn him into an evil caricature who uses and abuses everyone around him, or think he deserves to die a horrific, violent death at the hands of Blitz and Striker and Octavia.

It does sometimes take on an undercurrent of homophobia and ablism, but it all boils down to them thinking he's a rapist. I have seen an ungodly amount of Stolas hate in my time within this fandom, despite my best efforts to avoid it, and all of it can be traced back to that core belief they all have.

[rosazoldyckk]

Yandere! Silva X Daughter Reader

⚠️warning⚠️ obsessive thoughts and mentions of death

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Silva Zoldyck, Zeno Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, Milluki Zoldyck

A/N: I DO NOT INTEND FOR THIS CHAPTER TO HAVE ANY RELATIONS TO INCEST!! I'm aware that some things written in this chapter might be mistaken as incest, but I promise I don't intend to make it seem that way.

Of course you can interpret my writing however you want to, I have no issues with that. Just please know I don't write stuff related to incest♡︎♡︎

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ 1138 words *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*

"Didn't I tell you to stop killing these poor butlers, father? How do you expect us to be taken care of if you take your rage out on our servents?" The young Assassin grumbled while putting her hands on her hips. Suddenly, the whole estate went silent. However, the rest of the lower butlers blinked and gulped in hope.

At the edge of the room, the young assassin can be seen. Her long H/C hair that shined under the moonlight can put any woman to shame. Her E/C eyes that they inherited from her father were sharp yet adorable. It could not be denied that with her looks and god-given talent for assassination that the girl belonged to the Zoldyck family.

With their sudden appearance, Silva lowered his guard and relaxed. It could be seen by his face that he adored the presence of his dearest daughter. With a soft tone, he asked, "Y/N, dear, what are you doing here? I thought you were out of the house."

The Lower butlers secretly beg the assassin to spare them from their death. By doing this, not only do they have a higher chance to survive, but they could also continue to contribute in caring for the Head's most adored daughter, Y/N Zoldyck.

One with no common sense would simply assume that Y/N was the glass child of the Zoldyck family, but behind closed doors they couldn't be any more wrong. Y/N was the glue that kept the family together. She was known to be cruel, sadistic, and outstanding in the art of assassination. However, there were people such as her siblings that could see the other side of her. Most of the time, Y/N was a kind and calm individual outside of work. And today just so happened to be a day where she felt generous.

Y/N thought for a bit before shaking her head, "I thought I told you our agreement about killing butlers in the mansion. Their screams can be heard from my room. It would be better if you killed them quickly or just let them free," she sighed as she turned her eyes to the poor butlers that had been severely tortured by electric shock.

Silva on the other hand glared sharply. Although it was subtle, his eyes went smaller, and clenched his hand.

He hated it.

He hated it when HIS daughter ignored him for Illumi.

He despised it when HIS daughter left him alone to play with Kalluto.

He loathed it when HIS daughter was playing video games with Milluki.

He felt sick to his stomach whenever he witnessed HIS daughter braiding Alluka's hair.

He detested it when HIS daughter is 'playing' outside with Killua and his pathetic excuses of friends.

And oh dear god did he want to smash a boulder across his head whenever he saw HIS daughter laughing with her mother and grandfather.

Silva loved his only daughter to death. Every inch of his daughter belonged to him and ONLY him alone. He hated sharing with others, family only being a small exception. If he could, he would lock her in his room and make her look at him and ONLY him alone.

Knowing that the entire family would riot against him if he were to bring harm to the assassin, he buried that plan deep within his heart and continued to be a 'good dad' for her. He forgot the agreement and decided to play it funny so that his daughter could let this case pass.

"I apologize, dear," Silva grumbled with a fake frown. "Unfortunately, these foolish butlers failed their mission and their penalty is nothing but death. I thought it would be great to punish them first but I overlooked an important part,"

Y/N kept her mouth shut and looked at her father. Somehow, Her emotions had stirred up from her father's response. She knew that her father loved her the most out of her brothers. He would remember every word she had said and did not dare to break any promises. Sadly, although she had been feeling generous, today has been a tiring day for her and all she wanted is a good night's rest.

"Just let them free for my sake. I couldn't hear them screaming any longer! Do you know how much their screams had disturbed me from my sleep?! This is a simple agreement and somehow you can't even remember my words. I'm so disappointed in you," Y/N spat in tiredness. As soon as she said that, she quickly turned her back and jumped to her room which is located on the outer side of the fortress.

Silva hid his rage and waved to her daughter's back. "I hope you'll have a nice dream, my sweet Y/N"

Soon after Y/N left the room, the temperature dropped. The butlers shivered as the waited for another wave of electricity to shoot through their bodies, but nothing came. They glanced up at their boss, only to see him with an expressionless face.

Without another word, he allowed the ball of electricity growing on his hand to explode, killing the butlers in an instant. With his eyes full of tenderness, he took a deep breath of air.

"I'll make it up to you, my daughter..."

⁂✧⁂

Zeno sighed tirelessly as he observed his sons actions. "When will he stop with this obsessive behaviour? Those butlers did nothing except make sure Y/N was taken care of, and yet he still killed them? In all my years I've never seen Silva express such madness before."

Illumi sighed in helplessness to his grandfathers words, "Even I'm starting to get a bit bored now, As her beloved eldest brother I must make sure that she is on the path to success. Father doesn't need to get involved when she has me by her side at all times."

"You're right," Milluki replied in annoyance, "Though Y/N is next in line to head the family, seems like dad is a little too eager for her to stay by his side, am I right?" He grumbled as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

The 3 of them shared looks of confusion as Silva finally got up to exit his room.

All they could do is wait.

[skydrain]

Kit

Back at it again y'all. Um, this one is literally so self indulgent. That's beside the point though. I'm not trying to make it fit into any movie or existing timeline and once again I'm just making stuff up bc I can. Anyway...

Paternal Logan x child!gn!reader

Summary: Young Y/N finds their way to the mansion after long travels. Once there, Charles quickly sends Logan to bond with them because they were derived from his DNA.

warnings: nothing to worry about if you watch X-men anyway.

Kit

Y/N wandered down a long path, utilizing their nose to lead them in the right direction. They knew they looked suspicious. I mean really, how many kids go around covered in blood? Not many, and if they do it's not long until they’re picked up and questioned. 

Y/N couldn't risk that though, they knew what would happen if humans saw the claws coming from their knuckles. That's why they needed to follow this scent. Y/N had been trekking the woods after escaping their parents basement for days now. No real direction or plan. Just thankful they were away from that personal hell... and that their mutation let them eat raw meat. Too many squirrels were eaten in the past few days.

It was day 16 that the wind brought along the scent of fellow mutants. Y/N was all too knowing of exactly what a mutant smelled like. I mean, you spend enough time locked up with nothing but your own senses and you pick apart what you can, in this case, your own scent. 

All the better at the end of the day though. Nothing could be worse than what they came from. Y/N just hoped they wouldn’t judge them too greatly for killing their torturer. 

A mass amount of mutants like the one Y/N could smell would either be helpful or harmful. They were confident they could hold their own enough to escape again if things took a turn for the worse, but they were banking on this group being helpful. As Y/N neared, they could begin to hear the sounds of laughter, definitely a good sign. 

Finally around the bend, Y/N was surprised to be greeted with a voice in their head. 

“Hello, young one. My name is Charles Xavier, what brings you here?”

Y/N was freaked out to say the least. Their body kicked back into flight or fight mode and they swore they could feel their muscles tighten to their adamantium bones. They didn’t know how to answer the question. Shouldn't it be obvious they wanted to be with those like them? Plus, who was this Charles to think he could crawl into people's heads without permission?

“You raise a good point, I apologize. You seem to be in a pretty rough shape. Please, let us assist you,” Came the kind voice in their head once again.

Unwillingly, Y/N began to find comfort in that voice. As they stared at the looming building, Y/N could only think of how unkind their father was. 

They doubted that this ‘Charles’ would infuse a woman's growing fetus with the last remains of the weapon x’s experiment’s DNA. Much less to then keep that child locked in his basement after it killed his wife by birth, though, staring at the mansion Y/N could admit its basement probably wasn’t as bad as the one they were in. 

“Oh you poor thing,” Y/N was once again interrupted in their own head, "we are just the place for you. I promise. You’ll never have to suffer like that again.”

Y/N looked back up at the mansion when they heard the great doors open. Out came a gruff looking man. Y/N was set on edge again as the man began making his way towards them at a quick pace. 

Scrambling backwards, Y/N ended up tripping and attempted to use their hands to catch themselves. This only resulted in them stabbing themselves in the thighs upon their landing. The scent of their own fresh blood flooding their nose is what sent Y/N into a true frenzy. 

Tears began to pour and growls rumbled in their throat as they once again were shocked with the voice of Charles in their head, “Do not fret Y/N, this is Logan. I believe you’ll find him to be most helpful at the moment.”

Remembering the gruff man once again, Y/N jerked their head up to find that the man had stopped a few paces from their position on the ground and was staring intently at the claws embedded in their thighs. 

“Hey bub, Charles” the man - Logan, they remembered - began hesitantly, looking up to see if Y/N was listening, “sent me to bring you in. He’s under the assumption you're some sort of backasswards offspring of mine.” Logan cocked an eyebrow at Y/N as he released his own claws from his knuckles, only to pull them back in after Y/N’s eyes flashed with recognition. 

They were shocked to hear gentle rumbles coming from the man. It was soothing. Y/N found themself starting to hiccup instead of sob, and their own growls lessened into small mewls. 

“Oh kit,” Logan started advancing again. Once near enough, he kneeled down and sat back on his heels, “let’s get those out of your legs and then we'll work on cleaning you up, okay?”

As the man began reaching towards them, Y/N flinched away and wrenched their claws out of their thighs to hold defensively before them. 

“Don’t hurt me, please! I’m sorry for coming. I didn’t mean to kill them I promise! I just wanted it to stop, please don’t hurt me,” Y/N desperately cried, eyes looking to their quickly healing thighs, hoping with everything in them that this man wouldn’t impale them with his own metal claws. 

“Kit, I’m not goin’ to hurt ya, and I’m certainly not gonna be the one to tell you off for doing whatever ya could to get out of what looks to be a tough situation. Lemme get you inside, allright. Inta a nice warm bath and some better clothes than these rags. How’s that sound?” The man spoke very gently, still with that kind rumble in his chest. 

Y/N looked up at him again when he gently grabbed their wrists to lower their claws. Y/N watched as he began to gently rub the pads of his thumbs over the inside of their wrists. Y/N was confused at first, until they watched as their claws retreated back into their forearms when Logan hit a particular muscle. They tried their best to not let the pain of the movement show, but they were sure Logan heard their small hiss and the smell of distress spike.

Making eye contact again, Logan reached out to grab Y/N under their arms. Overwhelmed with all that's happened over the last few weeks and especially the last fifteen minutes, Y/N’s body decided it was the best course of action to shift into their wolverine form… to the shock of Logan, Charles (who was viewing from Logans head), and the students out on the lawn who had been watching the interaction from a distance.

Logan could hear the students begin to murmur about the kit having a true animal form, and he even heard one brave kid question if Logan could do the same (he couldn't), but his main focus right now was making sure Y/N was taken care of. 

Carefully cradling the small wolverine to his chest, Logan made sure to keep up his gentle purrs as he made his way into the mansion. He was amazed by how quick a pack-like bond was forming between him and this kit. 

Stood in the foyer, Logan contemplated heading straight to Hank, but ultimately decided a bath would be of better use, especially when he knew any injuries have already healed.

With that in mind, he made his way up to his room. Nodding to the kids he passed in the hall, Logan made sure to keep Y/N out of their view and to glare at anyone close enough to hear his purrs.

Entering his room, Logan gently closed his door and then made his way into his bathroom. He gently set the small wolverine on his counter and began to fill his sink with warm water, all the while pressing a soothing hand over Y/N’s back.

“Don’t worry, we can do a bath just like this if you’d prefer,” Logan told Y/N when he noticed their beady eyes looking up at him. Instantly the kit relaxed under his hands and laid still while watching Logan gather a towel and his 2-in-1 from the shower. 

Once the sink was filled with sufficiently warm water, Logan picked up the kit and let them soak, gently petting the fur on the top of their head before cupping some water and wetting their head, being sure to wipe any from their eyes. 

Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, Logan made sure to scrub everywhere as efficiently as possible. It quickly became apparent that a second fill of water and scrub would be necessary. 

Midway through the sink filling for the second time, Logan heard Jean's voice in his head, “Is it alright if I come in? I promise I only have a spare change of clothes for the child and I’ll just set them on your bed, okay?”

Sending back an affirmative to her presence in his head, Logan made sure to keep a calming hold on the kit when they heard his door open with Jean’s scent rolling under the bathroom door and then close again as she left. 

“It’s all good, Y/N. Let’s get you finished here and into those clothes,” Logan said as he picked up the shampoo once again. 

After the water was running clean off the wolverines fur, Logan picked them up once again and wrapped them in a towel. 

“I’ll go grab you clothes and leave you to change,” Logan set Y/N on the ground once dry and went to grab the clothes Jean left. Going back into the bathroom with them, Logan made sure to warn, “these are just the school merch, so they smell a little starchy and dusty. Don’t worry, we’ll get you some new clothes soon enough.” With that, Logan left the room to give his kit some privacy. 

Y/N had no idea why this man was being so kind. Obviously he was like them, but they still didn’t expect this much care. Y/N can’t remember ever having hot water at their disposal, but Logan made it seem like they’d be getting that and so much more if they stayed here. Feeling calm enough to change back into their human form, Y/N quickly shed their old dirty clothes. Dressing into the sweats was easy enough, though they weren't sure how to keep them on, the pants kept slipping past their waist. 

Holding them up, Y/N stepped out of the bathroom and found Logan sitting on what they presumed to be his bed waiting for them. 

“Oh kit, c’mere,” Logan said as he realized they probably hadn’t had the comfort of sweatpants before. 

Slowly walking toward the man, Y/N was shocked when he gently tugged the string around their waist. At first Y/N thought he was going to tie them up somehow, but quickly realized he was just making a normal bow and their pants now fit. Y/N stared with wide eyes at Logan who only smiled in return. 

“C’mon, you can do with a nap, you look like yer about to drop,” Logan said as he stood from the bed. He pulled back the covers and began to make that rumbling noise Y/N liked so much again. 

Watching the man to make sure he wasn’t going to change his mind, Y/N crawled up into the bed and let themself be tucked in. It was then that they realized they had their own nice rumbly noise coming from their chest too. 

Y/N watched with hazy eyes as Logan made his way to a chair in the corner of the room. The final thing they saw before succumbing to sleep was him opening to marked page in a book. 

Logan couldn’t hold back his smile no matter how hard he tried to. The kit was too adorable when swamped in the logo-ed hoodie and sweatpants and absolutely swimming in his massive bed. Hopefully after a good sleep Y/N would be okay to see Hank and the Professor, but for right now, Logan was gonna let them sleep as long as they needed to. 

[yestrday]

— TIE ME UP. yan! rich kid! childe x gn! mercenary! reader

your latest hit is a boy named ajax. the job's easy— kidnap him, bully him a bit, then send him back without any will to live. easy enough, it seems, but not everything will go the way you expect it.

( reader is not a good person; murder, mentions of torture; kidnapping; obsessive behavior, tying up, slight mentions of n/sfw, masochistic childe )

note. ahhhh im in a writing a slump so i decided to write the other part of anon's request to practice. idk if it's good enough, but childe will always be my go to whenever i want some disgusting yandere boy

you might like: childe's spiked drink

it's nothing you haven't seen. someone wants someone dead and they would pay millions just to see that come true. you whistle when you open the case of green bills for the nth time this day and the sight makes you smile.

what a haul you've gotten. despite the dread that's been growing inside you since you took this job, the million worth of cash inside this single suitcase is enough for you to retire. maybe you'll finally take a break from all this gory business, find a nice plot of land where the police can't find you, and make a farm for yourself. that sounds nice.

determined to finally finish this once and for all, you slam the suitcase shut and chuck it into the back of your car, along with the squirming ginger screaming at you through his gags.

"it'll be all over soon, love," you croon, sporting a wicked smile. "jus' get some sleep in here, mmkay?"

with one last muffled scream of his, you slam the trunk on the poor man's shaking expression and rev the engine to life.

"'ello there, babe," is the first thing the boy hears when he blinks his eyes awake. "good ting ya slept, hm? the road here was full of em potholes. not exactly pleasant for a passenger in the truck, right?"

it's a classic stereotype— that heavy country accent tinged with seduction and danger— even you're painfully aware of how cheesy your voice is. but it's what you were raised with, plus most of your victims dig the accent anyway, so might as well make use of it. the boy grimaces when the single fluorescent bulb swaying on the ceiling hits his sight, and he lets out a little grunt. 

"ajax childe. third son of the ceo of childe's toy corporation and now…" you plop yourself onto the wooden seat in front of him, nonchalantly waving the knife in front of his wide-eyed stare. "the target of some rich sod's hatred." you give him a lookover, from his ruffled ginger hair, his lean bod, down to his strong calves. clearly, he's been working out. you sigh in mock pity. "what the hell did ya do anyway? make off with someone's girl?" he's pretty enough to entertain the thought, and judging how flirtatious he acts in front of the paparazzi, that very well might be the case.

he protests against the gag once again, and you shake your head. "sorry, babe. not really in the mood to listen to sum brat scream." you tap your cheek as you contemplate on what to do with him. "hmm... they didn't actually want ya dead, if i'll be honest with ya. just bully ya a little till ya want yerself dead, y'feel? it's good to 'ave less blood on my hands, but hm, when i get commissions like these..." you cock your head, pondering over the countless victims you had over the last decade.

"they don't usually come out alive, yanno?"

another muffled scream through the gag, and you watch in boredom as he tries to wiggle his way out of his binds. clearly, however, it's futile when all he accomplishes is burn himself with the rope. well, what else was he expecting? you were a hired mercenary, he a mere ceo's son living a cushy life. there really was no challenge here.

but looking at him... you feel somewhat sympathetic. you have no respect for those high-class scum who like to hide behind fake smiles and faker compliments. but the kid in front of you was just some irresponsible young adult who just happened to be born into the elite, and well, if he wasn't the son of such a big corporation, he'd probably have gotten away with whatever he did. such was the consequence of having too many eyes on you. maybe it'd make you less worse of a human being if you let this kid air his grievances out.

you sigh, getting up from your spot. "alright, alright, i'll ungag you. just shut up already, jeez." he seems to jostle around less when you say that, and you swiftly untie the cloth to let him talk.

you already know what to expect— teary pleas, desperate bribes, maybe even some angry threats. all these are common in victims and more often than not are you forced to listen to all that shit before you decide to gag them again or just shoot them in the head. so you brace yourself for whatever agonizing scream they might have in store for you.

"ah..."

you grimace. here it comes.

"you're prettier than anything i've imagined..." he tilts his pretty face up, gazing at you with lovestruck eyes under the shine of the harsh light. your shock is mirrored in those loony eyes as his smile widens till it almost splits his face into two,

"...[your name]."

"what the fuck?!" instinctively, you recoil away from him, taking steps back while he continues to pin that heart-eyed stare on you. "what in the–?! how the fuck do you know me?!"

"oh, [your name], is there anything i don't know about you?" this... this freak sighs almost dreamily, and it makes you grimace by how slimy it is. "your name, your occupation (obviously), your favorite drinks, your... heh, three sizes!" he lets out a low giggle. "finally...! to finally see you right in front of my very eyes!"

you blanch. "three...?!" this cannot do. you are being outdone and outsmarted by some rich playboy. clearing your throat, you regain your composure and narrow your eyes at him in a glare (why... why is he shivering?!). "bluffs won't save you from your fate, childe."

you live a life in the shadows. leaving traces of yourself for people to find could spell to be your doom, and yet here was this kid claiming that he knew everything there is to you. it was a laughable attempt at a bluff, and he only caught you offguard by that disgusting grin of his. you're confident enough in your own abilities that you know that no one would be ever able to track you—

"[your name] [last name]. single father, three siblings, but they're all dead. you became a mercenary at age 16 and you go to your headquarters every weekend. you like the cafe at sixth avenue and you order the fourth thing on the menu almost every time." his grin widens when he sees the alarmed expression on your face. "should i tell you more?"

impossible. gritting your teeth, you pull him by his collar, almost tipping his chair over until you catch it with your knee. it... spreads his legs and pushes against his bulge, and you want to scrub yourself clean when you see his red blush and lip-bite. "how the fuck d'you know all that?" you snarl. you shake him. "tell me!"

"because i love you," he says, almost breathless. he looks at you with eyes so full of devotion and obsession that you might believe him. "there's not a single piece of you that i don't love."

you pull your lip back. "you're fuckin' disgusting."

"ah, but!" he wiggles in his chair, his clothes straining against the binds. "you're the one who tied me up like this! all vulnerable and ready for you to torture, right?"

you can't believe this man. "that's how kidnappings go, you idiot!" unable to hold on to this weirdo any longer, you let go of him and he and the chair he's tied to collapse to the floor. it's a nasty fall, but you're too busy rubbing your hands together in some attempt to rid yourself of the germs he may have transferred over to you.

the gasp of delight when he hits the floor grates like metal against your ear, and he squirms when you look down at him with such hate and disgust in those pretty eyes of yours. "is it starting? are you gonna torture me now?" your eyes flit to the array of tools you laid out on the counter, but now you feel reluctant to dirty this man's blood with the tools you painstakingly polished to shine. "ah~ ♡ i wonder what you're gonna do to me! are you gonna cut me up and leave me to bleed? tie me up till it hurts to breathe? ah, [your name] ♡" he calls your name with ecstasy. "i'm so excited to see what you'll do!"

with your back turned towards him and facing the tools, you don't grace him with a reply. instead, you bite your lip, panicked and pale expression reflected in the cold reflection of a knife.

'why me?!' your thoughts scream. 'i've never met this man in my life before!'

'how am i supposed to break someone who's gone too fucking far?!'

he continues to smile at your back, watching as you contemplate which torture device you'll bless him with for that night.

'so, so cute!' you're shorter than him, but somehow the thought of you dominating him and spilling his blood makes his jeans tighter. 'they're gonna make me go through sooo much pain, i can feel it! they'll have the power to kill me. they might kill me!'

just like that man you shot in that alleyway, eyes staring blankly at the mess of guts and brain splattered against the wall. there was no remorse in your eyes as you wipe the blood off your cheek with the back of your hand. no remorse as you stuff that body into a bag and make a mess all over yourself.

he remembers it clearly. your skintight black bodysuit, how the blood seemed to match your soulless eyes, the peek of tongue as you licked the blood from your thumb— he remembers it all too well.

how could he not, when he had his back pressed to the wall, out of your sight, hand clamped to suppress his noises. not a terrified scream, mind you. but his heavy breaths as he continued to observe you from a distance.

better than an angel. more divine than an angel. you were the reaper itself, stained in blood and black.

and his obsession with that reaper grew, as you revved off with your motorcycle with the corpse in tow, and he lay in the alley shadows with a hand in his jeans and blood at his feet.

if you had looked closely beneath all the money, maybe you'd see one damning clue that would tell you that this commission was a bad idea. a clue stitched at the bottom of the suit, fancy lettering showcasing initials in cursive:

a.c.

ajax childe's grin grows wider when he sees you finally settle on a tool. even when bound up and knocked to the floor, those hungry eyes and crazed grin seem to make him more of a predator than the you holding a knife.

[astroreoreoreoreoreoreoreo]

Idk if any fnaf fans follow me but omg. I was watching a video yesterday where someone analyzed the lore behind all of the UCN voicelines and I realized something.

CC is controlling the Nightmares.

Two lines in particular seem to support this theory:

1. "I was always hiding in your shadow" -N. Freddy

- implies the speaker had some sort of relationship with Afton (assuming afton is the player) that The One You Should Not Have Killed (TOYSNHK) wouldn't have

- who wanted to hide all the time? Yeah! That's right! CC!!!!!

2. "We know who our friends are, and you are not one of them." -Nightmare Fredbear

- come on. It's a blatant reference to cc and his toys. Also a young boy's voice can be heard behind his lines (this line in particular, I can't really hear it in the other ones)

Also, the Nightmares were unique to CC. No one else would be able to "give them flesh" as multiple of them say, because no one else knew what they looked like. Even if you subscribe to the idea that they're the results of nightmare gas or illusion discs, Afton still would have had no way of knowing what exactly his son was seeing and therefore could not "give them flesh." And the same applies to TOYSNHK. (Assuming that they're Andrew or Cassidy and not CC.)

(This is kind of thrown off by the existence of that one Fredbear drawing in the logbook. That drawing drives me crazy. How the heck did Michael know???)

Now, the girl I was watching (I'll link her video, it was really good) thought that it being CC couldn't be the case because his soul was freed during the Happiest Day mini game. However, I was under the impression that the bad ending of FNAF 3 is canon. (If I'm wrong please let me know.) And besides that, according to FNAF 6 all the souls were freed, and yet it's implied (specifically by Withered Bonnie's "what is this new prison? is it me trapped? Or is it you? Perhaps it is us both" line, all of Marionette's lines, and Withered Chica's lines) that some of the original spirits are still here and trapped because of TOYSNHK's unwillingness to let Afton go.

I'm not saying I think CC is aware of exactly who he is torturing. But I think if I were a child who lived in torment all my life (because dad left me alone to fend for myself against my brother) and then died because of one of my father's creations, I would be a little miffed at him too. And even if he doesn't remember exactly how he died I think agony could lead him to blame Afton and willingly torture him too. I think if anyone deserves to be super vengeful it's that poor kid. Idk maybe it's obvious that CC is my favorite human FNAF character and Golden Freddy is my favorite animatronic.

(Blame my friend @gamusgoober for this. his amazing FNAF in real time video reawakened my fnaf hyperfixation)

^video I watched :>

[inarmes]

re; ableism in the hunger games, infantilism of the traumatized/shunning of the traumatized.

okay so i woke up & my awesome mutual @ongreenergrasses made a post about this too (i JUST saw it and like oooh my god. i agree so hard and so much) and i'm just going to talk about what i've been thinking.

the hunger games is doused in some really nasty thinking when it comes to mental health, and then even more so when it comes to disabilities, addiction and PTSD. i'm going to break down this post in parts based on each character who represents this, and any misc. ones will simply be the issue at hand alone. i find that suzanne writes a certain stereotypical sort of rhetoric that goes unchecked by this fandom because the majority are not those who have experienced these things, but the ones who *have* should at least bring this to more attention if possible. katniss to me, is one of the most ableist characters (not of her own knowing) as the good and mighty protagonist, and seeing people headcanon her as autistic is very interesting when her takes on people with any sort of difference in mental states is.. it comes into question constantly.

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄

annie is very truthfully, a character who is only based on being the ‘poor mad girl who wins finnick's heart’ and yes, a victor with more severe PTSD which has come to affect her daily life, or at least when it comes to the games. suzanne collins’ constant use of the term ‘mad girl’ comes from katniss as protagonist, which reads as so ableist. watering anyone to their inpairments or their level of health is dehumanizing, and it reads to me like she regards annie as a sort of special case, like a wounded animal almost. the only positive talk about annie as a character minus her wedding, minus her relationship with finnick is when peeta explains annie's experiences in the games, which comes with empathy and understanding that most,,, are overbearing with. i see so many people water her down to just, being finnick's, and only being whatever level of trauma has enabled her consistent struggles. this i won't put a label on because i don't know what collin's was trying to achieve.

i even believe that finnick as her lover commits a level of ableist thinking in their relationship. he withholds information of the rebellion from her (despite her being extremely smart and just as career as anyone else from four,) and despite that not changing anything because she's still tortured, still abused in some way, he has a level of extreme overprotectiveness that reads as infantilism of his partner, and it seems to me like everyone considers finnick as annie's carer, and doesn't consider annie as his partner. yes his *lover,* but not someone on equal ground as far as their mental health issues go. the way annie is seen on both coins of fandom and book are incredibly ignorant and very, very harmful to disabled people. just because someone has a debilitating issue does not mean you get to treat them like they're a child, does not mean you go onto label them from that single trait. like i said, the phrase ‘the mad girl back home’ is so, so degrading to annie, who is a survivor and has overcome her experiences with respective scars. respect her humanity, because it's sub human thinking to call someone mad based on PTSD. leave that in the 1910s/20s.

𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍 & 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

(note that the haymitch part will be longer than the rest because i have enough content to go off of & this is my specialty)

mrs. everdeen and haymitch as characters both experience deprecating grief, to the extent where their mental health is tarnished from that. mrs. e becomes withdrawn and stiff from family; only able to function for the sake of work. her love, her husband dies and it emotionally disables her and severs a proper relationship to her two daughters. her mental health being dependant on the man/the loss of him and the fact that she discards her family is not only somewhat realistic for *some* cases, but also equally spitting out ideas of tradition and how "women need a man," with hazelle contrasting this and having to work for her 4 children to the point of blood. katniss’ perception of her mother's issue do come from hurt, but also internalised prejudice against those with mental health as she can see the extent of agony her mother is in and still loathes her, never leaving the door open for empathy.

the treatment of haymitch in both book and fandom is equally prejudiced and incredibly uneducated on addiction, and again — grief. haymitch self-medicates because his trauma, the extent of it is so mutilating to the point where he has to be flushing out memories on a constant basis. the fandom calls him a stupid drink, looks down on his intelligence. the books make him look volatile, squalored. the way in which suzanne collins describes his kitchen (which is filthy with old food, hazards, bottles and mice droppings) is VERY true of several people with severe mental health. katniss makes fun of him while he's in a state of approaching withdrawal, saying that the smell brings tears to her eyes, and at the end of the conversation ‘to take a bath.’ people with depression (which is what mrs. e and haymitch both have in different cases) find it difficult to do everyday chores and simple tasks, and katniss also repeats the idea of haymitch being unhygienic when she says ‘he's disgusting, but I'm greatful’ alongside commenting that it must've been a long while since he had bathed. haymitch is the richest man in the district, but not even that can stop the blatant hatred that katniss parrots. haymitch is to me, ill, and it reflects in his attitude during the games and when he's in withdrawal. suzanne hones in his mental state the most, and what he is a functioning alcoholic, and while that differs from regular alcoholism, people are consistent to demean his character with misconceptions and text books beliefs of what an alcoholic looks like. there are *many* takes, many examples of these sorts of people in society, but the constant abusive, violent, hateful, squalid, hedonistic ideas are parroted in fics when it comes to haymitch when he isn't.. any of those things. the society around him cares to consider the extent of his suffering and he doesn't have a good enough support system, as all whom he has loved are dead. i finish this by saying what i always do; he's extremely intelligent, extremely empathetic and wholly feeling, extremely caring and protective, and is meant to *defy* stereotypes. his ending however diminishes his ability to get better, and practically undoes any hope of his betterment despite it all.

𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐄

mrs. undersee is mentioned a few times through the trilogy, and when it isn't related to her late twin maysilee donner, or her daughter madge, it's her chronic illness. katniss basically only mentions her when referring to her constant headaches and her morphling addiction, which makes me wonder why suzanne collins doesn't go into depth about how she's taken care of, who she's getting support from as the wife of the district mayor, and how she functions as a mother. she is basically made useless to the narrative despite her important role as a mayoral first lady & family member to someone who experienced and was slaughtered in the arena. i see next to no content on her which upsets me as she does play such a big role in the scheme of things, and has connections to the everdeens, to haymitch and to the donner family. she's got next to nothing on her wikipedia, and it's unfortunate as she could've been a good example of chronic ilness in an already revered YA series (which now comes under scrutiny for the faults being uprooted.)

[reginalusus]

out of curiosity, how do you imagine jasons robin origin? I know sometimes twoface is the reason his mother or father dies, does that tie into dynamics between them or is it different for your own interpretation of them?

My Jason's origin isn't too far off what actually happens...

The only differences are the intricacies of what's going on with Willis and Harvey, and how Jason actually dies. I don't go with the explosion death, I tend to go by the Arkhamverse in this case because the blorbos must suffer.

Basically, after his year-long torture in the abandoned Arkham ward, he DOES die when Joker shoots him. (In the actual Arkhamverse, Jason doesn't actually die, he manages to escape but YAWN. BORING!) So when this happens, the LOA quietly retrieves his body and revives him, thus begins his years of training. He returns to Gotham six years later as a powerhouse.

And yes, Harvey is still the reason Jason's dad is dead. I could go into detail about the complexities of the situation, especially between Harvey and Willis, but I'll save it for now methinks (it's not actually that complex, I just add a few things that doesn't make it as simple as 'big, bad Crime Lord murders poor man who betrayed him in cold blood'.)

So, essentially, Willis's death is still a sore spot for Jason, despite him having done his grievance and not having any good memories of him, really.

The tension more comes from the fact that, after Harvey killed him, it left Jason to sort of helplessly care for Catherine, his drug-addicted mother who he loved very much. Obviously, Jason can't care for her, so she passes away, leaving Jason to fend for himself. Then the Robin shenanigans happen, including Jason's canon encounters with Harvey.

Very important to note that, canonically, even after Jason discovered Harvey killed his father, Jason ended up letting go of his rage towards him and began feeling sorry for him instead... Jason, even as a child, sort of understood Harvey. Perhaps, sadly, he saw a bit of Willis in him.

Jumping to present, Harvey and Jason can't really help but get along because they share similar trauma, similar betrayals, similar morals and have both been rotted by Gotham and cast aside by it. Jason yearns for a father figure. He never really had it with Willis, he loves Bruce but can't bring himself to be under his wing anymore - their morals clash too wickedly - so naturally, so he finds it with Harvey, though he'd never tell Harvey this.

Bruce stares at Jason with disappointment, guilt, like he's still mourning him, while Harvey simply sees a young man who, like he, crawled out of what fate had in store for him. He's quietly proud of him - something I think Jason would cling to.

Buuut, they still fight and argue a lot, what do you expect when you have a bisexual disaster dad and an emo thot son, both with daddy issues, trying to run a crime/vigilante organisation together.

[missmarveledsblog]

Not just a flower child huh? ( logan howlett x reader ) part 7

summary : stryker is getting more ready while y/n tries and fails to sneak bub into the school , she meets another and past student of the school while logan is sick of feeling like the butt of the jokes.

warning: not many slight angst but not really this is like a filler chapter some fluff pieces , grammatical errors and spelling mistakes

previous part

 Failure to  an ego that well was too big for the man it belonged to is always a recipe for disaster . especially when the ego was beaten and bruised in every way expected when it was though a different result would happen . a bigger reputation , more power  he wanted more than whatever was giving no matter what , no matter who was broken and beaten in the way , he was prepare to lie and manipulate to get what he wanted. By any means necessary it was going to happen . he watched over the tapes as it repurpose his drive to get her back . watched  her grow in a sequence of tapes that didn’t make him even flinch , not the way she cried and beg them to stop. He watched each power coming to light after the torture she would subsequently pass out from  , watching the wounds he and his men inflicted  slowly fading  but yet faster than the last time “ progress” it was put down to . Then  the tape of that day he watched Her scream , heard their screams the flash distorted in the lense Of the camera  the usual vine now glowing  , the way the flames took hold , he watched As she cut them like butter each man falling to an agonizing death and seemed as She wasn't stopping the sobs and harrowing Cries almost like a mother who lost her child . It was only when he seen Himself , holding gun to the cage she stopped it was almost Touching if she was human that when she was knocked Out .  The fight In her that day died  keeping to the cage like the animal she and rest Of mutant scum were . 

Amusement laced On his face logan watched Her hide the Little kitten In her top tip toe through the main entrance . 

“ y/n dear would you and your new friend come To my office please ��� i don't mean logan “ charles Passed bye  as she sighed. 

“ two minutes  impressive “ logan chuckled.

“ he is good” she rolled her eyes already thinking of arguments for Bub to stay . Walking Down the hall with the pitiful Fluff ball in her arms as jean And storm passed by giggling . 

“ only you would find someone In need” scott ruffled her hair making her glare. 

“ im not puppy” she Gruffed. 

“ come on sweetheart” logan led Her down the hall as she walked In Holding the little kitten closer to her chest almost pleading with logan to help her . 

“ my dear Please come in” charles Smiled. 

“ in my defense Is place For the forgotten no , the ones in need?”she blurted out instantly . 

“ mutants yes” he chuckled. 

“Who i to say bub isn't mutant , he could be very Special kitten” she stood a little taller . “ he Is baby that needs help to” She added. 

“ actually my dear i think it a good idea all the same but it not to be a habit” charles Smiled softly. 

“ he will die , you wouldn't want him to … wait i can keep him” she stood shocked. 

“ jean and storm are going to get what he needs , and scott is Going to get a vet friend that will help check him over , this is only time though” he added . 

“ you scared me , you hear that bub you have home” she lifted him up only for little mew to coming out as she headed out of the room ready to show the kids . 

“ your getting soft in your old age” logan smirked .

“ she been through too much , it would be good for her” he smiled . 

“ yep Definitely  soft” he laughed . 

“  i think in this case i am , somethings In humanity still have a way of shocking me the low of depravity That poor woman has Suffered an ounce of a soft moment is warranted” he explained , he didn't lie ,when he thought He'd  Seen it all and yet once more it all Was nothing Compared to the atrocities  he had seen her deal with on a daily basis . 

She sat watching a man well she thinks a man  the blue Fur covered him head to toe as she watched Him closely Checking over the kitten. 

“ you are a funny vet” she finally spoke. 

“ you must be Y/n , name is hank mccoy im not a vet  but i am able to check him over one beast To another” he chuckled holding his hand out . 

“what beasts” she asked looking around the room honestly curious  it was oddly  endearing , it wasn't a show  Or a facade she was genuinely curious . 

“ he means him and bub , his name is beast like mine is wolverine” logan explained. 

“ i've met beast he is not one” her head tilted. 

“ and you my new friend  are a breath of fresh air , lets dry him off now ” hank chuckled. 

“ i can do that” she nodded waiting for him to move to the side hold Her hand letting The air  not so heavy Cast over The kitten making him fluffier.

“ remarkable” hank whispered. 

“ she Like a box Of gifts” logan smirked . 

“ he only says that when i ice his beer” she rolled her eyes ready to take the kitten to show the kids . “ or fire up the pit or cigars ” she added. 

“ have they began your training ?” Hank asked . 

“ training? “ she turned brows furrowed. 

“ she not here for that furball , he thought you would be xmen” logan explained. 

“ im not hero material” she laughed understanding Walking out The lab . 

“ she humble huh?” He chuckled . 

“ no she just thinks she a monster think we all can relate to that feeling” Logan stood watching where she once Stood only moment before .

 “ i never though i would see this” hank stood . “ seen what” . 

“ the great wolverine in love”  he patted his Back . 

“ have i not Shown time and time again im not made of stone you know start sick of you all like im an emotionless Asshole” he huffed .  “ let me guess it was a joke huh?” He stormed off sick and tired. 

 yeah he was rough Around the edge not  a suck upike summers but hes proved time and time again he cares , he has feeling just like rest of em . sure he doesn’t show Them often but he's let himself get vulnerable enough to get message across or so he thought did they really Think So low of him. 

“ whats His Name” the little voice called only turn to see y/n crouched all kids not just her own standing around . 

“ bub , he named after good man , yes he grumpy but big heart “ she smiled . “ now i best get him to my room for nap but will bring him out Later ok” she stood cradling the kitten to her chest . 

“  seem she share Same sentiment we all do” charles  seemed to Always  had to appear . 

“ could of fooled me” he scoffed. 

“  you know we care deeply for you logan” . 

“ then why does feel like im the butt Of every joke” he asked  heading off once more .  Walking down the hall  already hearing her voice like his ear alway pick hers in a sea of noise .  he could of been in  the crowd  of a metal concert and he would hear her sweet melody filled voice  like she was talking directly in his ear  . he could tell she was singing , what he couldn’t tell but he had a feeling it was a song her grandmother sang to her . he walking more quietly watching she was singing to the kitten rubbing it’s head as it lay on her bed. Never in his life did logan ever find himself actually wishing he was a “ kitty” . the softness of the touch on the fur , the pure smile on her face as she watched bubs little eyes closing til she went to turn and see logan standing at the open door. 

“ how long were you standing there” she sat up properly. 

“ to hear you singing the lullaby to a cat” he smirked. 

“ he’s a baby cat or not , i sang it to the kids too used to get them to sleep maya really loved it” she smiled watching the kittens steady breathing. 

“ maya?” he asked confused .  

“ she was one of the children that did not make it “ she barely whispered . 

“ i’m sure bub loves it too although i’d say anyone would “ he came more into the room . 

“ maybe i should sing it to you , maybe you sleep” she blinked innocently at him . 

“ here's me thinking you liked my company at night” he arched his brow. 

“ i like your company all the time” she smiled , a genuinely honesty to her words . 

“ well least someone does” he sat at the desk looking down to see the books she had trying to learn to read english , she could speak it  almost fluently but reading it still seemed to be a challenge.  

“ i like your company too sweetheart , tomorrow we are continuing our walk around the park i’m sure we have lots ready to watch bub”. 

“ you know family is what they treat you , family teasing i say my brother is mainly the brawn and no brain , same way they tease you don’t think badly” she finally said. 

“ reading my thoughts ?” he asked hoping she didn’t   and see it all . 

“ i don’t need to read it , i heard you and as you call him hot wheels .. i was being nosey” she shrugged . 

“ yeah well nosey what else did you hear?” he asked almost nervously. 

“ just you giving out , but they do see you as family  , they joke but they care “ she smiled eyes turning to the kitten . 

“ you’re something you know that ,  how are you this nice after everything” . 

“ because i know what the other side is like” . 

“ well  i better get going sweetheart  i’ll see you later  i have to go to the simulation room” he stood feeling less upset and  more himself  which again she seem to bring out of him so easily out of him . it honestly at the start scared the shit out of him and yet in her true fashion she was able to quell that fear instantly she was even able to get him to sleep better after their midnight time together.  

“ simulation room ? how many rooms does this place have” she asked almost slightly shocked . 

“ i mean the professor added more each time it was blown up but hey it gives it character” he walked out the room . 

“ blown up  hey come back here .. what do you mean blown up” she called after only to hear a small laugh travel up the hall . 

Maybe he could run , get out of here and warn her then again it wasn’t just him at risk. If he left here well his family would suffer too , stryker made sure they had everything to lose that’s why his risk wasn’t just something he thought of on a whim it could of had dire consequences . but something told him how his family would see it all , his wife honestly he couldn’t tel her .yet he knew if she did know she would of told him do the same , she hated he worked for stryker , she hated how the whole anti-mutant agenda and it sickened him that why he took the job. He had his own reasons to hate them but even the mutant he hated most subjected to what he watched test subject 0224 or by her name y/n rasputin . no one knew she was a family of an xmen , stryker kept that information to himself til when she was in the cage first she told them all how her brother was a man of metal and steel who would come and save her , that they would all pay. More and more he slowly felt the guilt creep in , his views on mutants slowly changed this  little girl at the time showed him they weren’t all monsters , destructive murdering animals he thought they were . but he had a job to do and over time that job was becoming more meaningless especially when they brought more children he saw first hand how she protected them , how she made sure nothing could get close and yet in a way she made sure she never actually hurt anyone even the ones who hurt her.  DR. Thompson wasn’t there when the dreaded day happened but he seen how she was after it , nothing they could do to her physically made her look more in distress or in despair as when he saw her after it .  everything this woman was made to endure well it had it’s ending point and that risk to get her out well it was worth it all and for once he needed to do the right thing . now he was praying on strykers downfall watching as they  packed up the old lab ready to move to a more secure area  , one he seen no escape from if she was caught again . maybe another risk was needed  as he looked down at the plane ticket for new york .

part 8

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @ayamenimthiriel @mega-kittyglitter-1

[naazaif327]

It’s so strange to me seeing people bend over backwards to try claiming that there’s absolutely no connection between TLOU2’s setting and the Israel-Palestine conflict. Like, I absolutely love The Last Of Us from the bottom of my heart, those games and characters will stay with me for the rest of my life, but also it’s just like so clear from any angle that Seattle’s war between the Seraphites and the WLF is just Druckmann’s “progressive liberal” zionist view of the irl occupation.

Like, on the one hand you’ve got the WLF (IDF/Israel), who are clearly criticized as being overly militarized and doing a bit too much torture and dehumanization, but they’re also super diverse and queer-friendly, and they’re very accepting of various different faiths and religions while still being overall pretty secular (this isn’t just me speculating btw, as you pass by you’ll listen to various WLF npcs openly talking about their faith and sexuality). They’ve got a fucked up leadership/governance under their angry ruler Isaac, but they’re good people as individuals, they’re just caught up in a cycle of revenge/violence. They’re mostly made up of people who were oppressed (by FEDRA) before staging an uprising and revolting to take back their land, which they lovingly cultivate and make use of innovative modern technology to make their world better. It’s a perfect metaphor for Israel to a Zionist who truly thinks that he has a nuanced view of a country he loves.

And then you’ve got the Seraphites (Palestinians/Arabs/Muslims), an angry backwards religious cult that hates progress and queerness and religious freedom, it’s members all brainwashed and worshipping a powerful prophet who proved her worth by performing miracles to win military victories for the cause. All of their children either become child soldiers or child brides for the elders. They hate using technology or anything from the modern world, their backwards culture holds them back and makes them socially/militarily weak. They enact violent lynchings against any poor WLF soldier that crosses their path. Besides Lev and Yara, they are a monolith, a people who exist as violent enemies to slaughter or as brainwashed masses to be pitied as they are massacred. Again, a perfect metaphor for both Islam and Palestinians to a man who has only ever seen both groups through the eyes of Israeli propaganda.

Notably, there is of course no apartheid, no checkpoints, no forced migration by one group or another in the history of the conflict (which we slowly learn through notes and diaries and letters scattered throughout the game). The WLF did not slaughter Seraphites in order to steal their homes, did not take their land and murder their families, nor did they force the Seraphites into concentration camps. The WLF has not been policing the Seraphites’ crops, has not been seizing their funds or resources, or poisoning their wells. The Seraphites aren’t trying to reclaim their stolen land or get the boot of the WLF off their neck. There is no actual ongoing reason for the war, the only reason the Seraphites are still fighting is to “get vengeance” and “kill the degenerate Wolves” rather than to live freely, because Druckmann sees this as the root of the Palestinian cause. To him, Palestinians are not fighting because they’re oppressed by Israel but because they hate Israeli culture and Judaism, and because they can’t just let bygones be bygones (the “bygones” in this case being ethnic cleansing). To him, Israel isn’t oppressing Palestinians and profiting off their suffering, Israel is just fighting back against antisemitism and maybe going too far to protect itself.

In the game, both sides were hurt by FEDRA, and then after the WLF defeated FEDRA, the Seraphites randomly pushed into the suburbs to terrorize the citizens there, causing them to rush to join the WLF. From then on both sides in tandem kept attacking and thus escalating conflicts into more and more violence. There is no oppression, no power differential, one side is not living in the forcibly abandoned houses of the other. There is no reason for conflict, only the meaningless violence that would immediately end if we could all just get along and stop trading completely equal blows.

The conflict ends on an uncertain note that nauseatingly mirrors the current reality. After escalating conflicts, the WLF launches a violent all-out attack on the largest Seraphite base, their island, wiping out most of the Seraphites, razing their fields and crops, slaughtering their children, and burning down almost everything the Seraphites spent decades building. The WLF in turn have lost much of their military force, but their homes and their children seem blissfully unharmed at the end of this. The future is uncertain, but it seems that the WLF/IOF is the “winner”. And it’s all very tragic to Druckmann of course, the dead Scars/Arabs are a very sad thing that could have been avoided if everyone just listened and relaxed. Material oppression doesn’t matter, and this could all just be solved by having integrated schools or whatever.

[rxsilabeth--er]

But being a criminal and getting trans!reg pregnant....like it's all planned.

Reader being obsessed with reg from the beginning from when he was just a trainee and committing crimes just so he could visit the scenes and watch reg. Killing people till he's darling boy is head of this case and being the one to bring him in. When he is, he chats up reg at a bar or sth, and poor reg is so clueless. Doesn't the guy he's riding and losing his mind over is the same person who is killing all those young victims he's investigating. By the time he figures it out, everything has gone to hell. And little reg is pregnant with the child of a serial killer. The worst part is that he knows. He can't tell anyone cause if his team finds out he got knocked by the psycho they're trying to catch, he'll lose the respect of the entire bureau. And Reg doesn't want to abort cause he's too stupidly in love with the man that gave him the child. However, he's shocked when he finds out the man made a small mistake in the last crime scene, but his team doesn't know it's killer and reg is a hundred percent sure the clue wasn't a mistake and was all planned out. And know he's interviewing his baby daddy in a small metal room who is highly aware of the tiny life growing inside of him and is too smug about it. With his new role as a potential witness to the case, he decides to offer his help with catching the murder and reg's boss agrees and is grateful to have the help of a local. Soo he grows to be liked by the whole group, and it's torture for reg. He keeps pulling reg into closets and bending him over the desk, promising to give him the little family he's always talked about on their dates, teasing him about how he has always been an over achiever and Regulus knows he could easily let himself hate him had their were not moments where the man was too domestic. Him walking into the office, wrapping his arms around his waist, rubbing his stomach. Talking about how their swert child will come out a genius. How he'll marry reg, whenever his ready. Always carrying with him water so reg is hydrated, doughnuts for the craving. Home-cooked meals, that reg can't help but mouth over. When reg is working too hard he'll walk into the office rub his back and little bump, telling him he shouldn't work too hard, it's bad for the baby, whispering little clues about the case In his ears. He'll buy him presents and make little baby jokes in front of everyone, making everyone confused. They'll ask if he's got a special someone at home and he's like yeah, we're expecting. He'll look reg right in the eye and go "smartest and prettiest little mama I've ever seen" and when it gets too hard for reg to cover the bump, he promises he'll quit but only if reg agrees to live with him.

Sorry, I may have gotten too obsessed 😅 I got this idea at what? 3:50 a.m and now it's 4:22. Had to get it all down immediately 😭

I'm drooling over this, it's such a piece of diamond!!! I NEED IT!! Oh my god, it's so cute yet so sexy!! Here take preggo! Reggie smut in exchange for the amazing gold's price!!| Warnings: dub-con? Slight manhandling, gun on head (reg's fine, dw), reader is kinda unhinged and insane, chocking, reg's pregnant, I have no idea, what came over me to write this...

Thank god, everyone in the office was actually gone out to eat, Regulus said he wasn't feeling and you brightly volunteered to stay behind to care of the Head Detective and the others agree, because you're a local who became VERY close with the group.

And Regulus knew why...Regulus's head felt like it was burning, crying on his knees, spewing insults, yelling, screaming and what not simply to argue with you over the fact that you're always at his office now and he doesn't like it...

You simply grinned down at him, you liked when he cried, it was cute, you know you should be angry at him, but maybe it was the fact that he was pregnant that suddenly made him so cute and made you want to make him cry more and mewl on your cock like that other night in the forest where you pounded in him on the forest floor beside his friend, Barty's house.

Softly you walked close to the kneeling boy, lifting his face softly and grabbing his face tightly, "You cry so damn much, it's fucking annoying how pretty you look." you softly hummed as Regulus's soft whimpering as you grab his arm and lift him up, pulling him up as you sat on his chair, the Head detective's chair.

You let him stand as he continued to scream at you for the next few minutes, maybe it was the pregnancy moodswings but after a few minutes of screaming, he stood there sobbing, pregnancy emotions always got out of hand, you guessed.

Softly he walked closer to you, sitting in your lap, crying in your neck as your hands stroked his thigh and sides, one hand travelling up to the top of his jacket, you softly pulled it off as he continued to cry, whine and sob on your lap, as one hand unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt softly, the other rubbing his thigh, the shirt still tucked in enough to hide his body well.

You snaked your hands inside his shirt, rubbing his stomach where you felt the smallest amount of movement, was it from Reg's breathing or the baby's notice of his father being around, you didn't know, you preferred the latter, knowing the man in your lap could never help his greediness he had over you, his obsession over you which he tried SO HARD to deny always made you grin and made you think how cute he'd like crying on your cock.

The other hand softly unbutton his trousers, your hands slipped inside his pants on his hips, holding his hips softly as you pet his hips a bit for him to lift his hips for you remove his trousers. Throwing them haphazardly, your fingers softly grazed his clothed cunt, already starting to wet and leak even through his panties, "Oh? Already wet...expected this from you honestly." you hummed softly, taking his hand on yours and guiding it to your trousers.

As he unbuttoned your pants, you simply pushed his panties aside and stroked his cunt and clit, but not touching him where he wants. Panting and whining, he simply pulled out your cock, whining as you simply sighed. "Pitiful.." you stared at him, but he's pregnant, might as well be sweet right?

So that's how he ended up riding you, wailing and moaning like it's nobody's business as his fingers were plunged in your mouth, plugging your mouth as you sucked and slobbered over his fingers like he did on your cock with a smirk seeing him go crazy and whiny simply from bouncing over you, one of your hands rubbing and squeezing his clit and the other rubbing his tummy which was seemingly growing to show your kid inside him...

Thrusting up into his cunt, the hand which was on his stomach moved up to softly pinch his nipples just as the ringtone of your phone rang through the office, as Regulus's cries resonated within the walls, just before you pulled his panties you tore off of him and shoved it in his mouth, taking the call, putting it on speaker and placing it on the table, while one of your hands held his wrists tightly, while the other moved to hold his throat.

Noticing his movements stopped, you leaned close to his tear-stricken face and asked, "What? Did I ask you to stop? Continue fucking riding." you said softly, you were sure if not for the panties stuck in his mouth and your hand on his throat he would whine loudly to show everyone what was happening.

"Hello?" Barty's voice came from the call, "Yeah? Hello Barty!!" You asked brightly, in contrary to how you were fucking Regulus on your dick. As Regulus continued to bounce on top you, "Yeah, uh, we're reaching the station back in like two to three minutes." Barty said as all blood ran from Regulus's face while you only smirked,

"Oh? Oh, please, do come early...I miss you all and if not me, then Reggie sure does, don't you?" you said smirking as Barty laughed over the phone, "I bet, aight, I'll tell Evan to drive faster, can't leave our besties alone, can we? See you!" he said before hanging up as you pulled Regulus's panties out his mouth, making him whine as you pressed down on his throat and rubbed his clit a bit harshly,

"Why-...Why would you..you-fuck! Why would you do that?!" he asked, trying to be angry, but his exterior flattered the moment you thrust inside of him, hearing him wail.

"Come on, hurry up, don't you want to cum? If not now, then you'll have to wait up until, I don't know....a few hours?" you said as he suddenly began speeding his movements up, as you relaxed in the chair, groaning as you kissed his chest and left hickeys, biting him as he simply whined and tried his best to ride you. Your hands no longer working on his body neither did you put in any effort, if he wanted it, he can have it all by himself especially after screaming at you,

"i'm still upset at you yelling at me, so I will relax, you use me and get yourself off." you said simply, hands simply on his stomach, stroking his swelling belly, letting him use you.

Regulus tried his best to replicate the feelings of you, pinching his nipples, squeezing his clit, plunging your fingers in his hole besides your cock if you felt more mean, or the way your cock touched parts of his body his long fingers couldn't even reach...

His wet finger rubbing his own clit, as he ride to bounce himself on top of you like you always force him to, the other hand on top of yours on his stomach, feeling your cock bulging in his stomach, it was hurting, but he simply couldn't reach his good points!

What the hell, you're supposed to care for him, your baby's momma, your pretty little baby and your gorgeous princess (as you called him in a degrading way).

It wasn't helping that you were pinching his nipples seemingly out of nowhere and reminding him, "Come on, don't want the whole sector to know you're a whore right? They're gonna be here any minute now." he said. His pleasure was teetering between too much and too little and it was driving him wild,

"Ah-fuck!...please! I-I'm..fuck..I'm sorry, it's not working!!" he whined, his tears dripped down his cheeks with drool also falling down his cheeks making you shake your head, "I'm sorry, baby. You're on your own." you said simply, groaning as he clamped down on your, throwing your head back, sadism making you feel happy and a smirk on your lips as he again began to move up and down, his thighs burning just as the sounds of other's car's parking was heard.

"Oh, looks like they're here, awwhhh, baby, hurry up, come on, cum." you said with fake pity as Regulus let out a loud whine, near scream,

"PLEASE! I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry...Please..it hurts and I-fuck! Can't do it, I need you, I need you!....in here..Please daddy? Don't wanna pleasure your little cumslut...am I not carrying your baby?" he softly, whined taking your hand and placing it on his dripping cunt softly throwing his head back, you groaned and rolled your eyes as you held his hips, the fucking cumslut was smart and fucking cute,

"Awhh, fine. But hear me slut, you're not cumming the whole night after this." he said as he nodded desperately, "Fine, yes, yes!!" he nodded as you looked over to see Barty, Evan, Pandora, James, Sirius, Remus, Lily and literally everyone in the group was entering the building.

You quickly pulled out and flipped him over, slamming back inside as you pounded him on the table, as you looked over the desk to see your gun that confiscated in a opened drawer, pulling it you softly placed it on his head, making Regulus tense up, as you continued to pound inside him, spanking his ass red and rubbing it softly between your warmed up palm of the other hand before it moved to bundle up in his hair to pull up his falling and lolling head as his whined,

"Awhh, what? Scared, baby? You should be. Fucking brat, you should be fucking grateful I don't pull the trigger for almost revealing my identity...But fuck, baby, I love you." you hummed moving fast, moving the fun down to nudge his clit with the cold metal as you pounded in him, pulling his hair, and biting his shoulders, you were dressed up but he wasn't except his opened shirt hanging from his shoulders.

Regulus's whines began to be more high-pitched and faster, "Uh..No, wait..it feels weird, sir! PLEASE! It-fuck, feels like I'm gonna pee...Please, no i'm-ngh!...I'm gonna cum." he whined, thrashing softly as you placed the gun back on the table and shoved fingers in his mouth, gagging him on them, as the other pinched and rubbed his clit roughly, you could hear the other's footsteps outside on the corridors...

"Fucking cum, I better not get caught. They're just outside the door, sweetheart." you hissed as Regulus whined and let out a soundless cream as he squirted over you dripping down as he clamped down on your cock, his head dizzy as he whined softly.

That pushed you over the edge as you quickly came inside him and pulled out, staring at his dripped ass as Regulus scrambled to get his articles of clothing, including the ripped up panties and ran to the bathroom, banging the door closed just as the door opened to them, "Hey!! We got food for you as well!!" Pandora said brightly holding up a bag as they all stare at you fixing your unbutton shirts with a sweet smile, back on your lips,

"Hi, welcome back!! Where were you all gone for?" you asked, fixing your pants behind the desk hiding you as you smiled brightly. "Oh, nowhere really." Mary said sighing as she pulled up a chair beside you as you sat on the Head Detective's desk, "Where is Regulus?" Dorcas asked, as you slightly panicked, "Oh, uh, he's in the bathroom." you said smiling nodding towards the bathroom in the office.

Everyone nodded as Pandora handed you the food bag, "Oh yeah, speaking of. Reminds me, you look unsuually happy, are you expecting someone at home?" James asked smiling, as you nodded with a boyish grin,

"Yep, i'm expecting a baby!" You said just as Regulus walked out wiping his face with a napkin, his clothes back on, " the prettiest and gorgeous mama I've ever seen.." you said softly smiling at Regulus who blushed and walked closer, shooing you to get your own chair...

You pulled one beside him, as everyone began leaving to go back to different things they had to work on, as you ate your food in silence with Regulus, pulling him back to sit in your lap on the Head Detective's chair, a hand on his tummy.

You didn't really notice it, but after the few months, he was honestly starting to show, if not for the fact that he wore a brown blazer over it that hid his stomach, but if he wasn't wearing it, it was blatantly obvious as you stared at his stomach.

Regulus noticing your gaze no tummy, he hid it under his arms, his insecurity skyrocketed since becoming pregnant, but despite being insane it would be wrong to lie since he was looking gorgeous than anything,

"Quit this job, I'll take care of you." you blurted out suddenly making Regulus glare at you, "You have a lot of fucking audacity." he said pulling you close by your collar, "I'm serious...I don't want you to be held responsible if I got caught being a killer, I want you and the baby to be safe, quit this. I have money, I'll take care of you." you said softly, rubbing his stomach with one of the rare, genuine smile you held making Regulus a bit surprised but sigh,

"I'll see...", "Thank sweet mama.. :)"

[soullessjack]

another offshoot of jack being infantilized is that it’s leeched into the popular mischaracterization of jack as some soft sensitive crybaby who hates violence, hates scary things and is super nice and sweet and cutesy all the time and of course he’s used to accessorize Claire as a big mean lesbian sister who always gets them in trouble, and what makes it so unbearable besides the ableist rooting, is that it’s just canonically utterly wrong. like go back and watch 13x02 & 03. go back and watch 14x06 when they convince Dean to go on a case behind Sam’s back. or look at any time they’re defiant to Cas (and for the love of god do not look at it as “lol sassy baby dean is a bad influence bad dad 😂” or so help me I am throwing multiple rocks at you). like you can say he’s a bitch. you can say he’s a cunt even. it won’t kill you.

in fact, I implore you to, because it is a step away from infantilizing his every action as silly baby behavior and ergo a step in the right direction. look at the entire apocalypse world arc where he decides he has to personally kill Michael when the plan was only ever to escape through the rift. remember the scene where they’re crying in the woods and it got ran with as hashtag poor baby boy whump and nobody noticed that he’d literally almost strangled someone because of their impulsive temper?? or when they made the decision to brutally torture a man by snapping and twisting his skeleton and burning him so intensely his shirt fabric blackened?? and somehow that gets turned into shit like “daddy hold my sippy cup” because for some fucking reason you guys are so intent on making him out to be a child and infantilizing his canon traits to be more palatable to that idea of him.

TLDR please can we actually recognize how bitchy and violent and rebellious jack is. can you guys realize that his entire behavioral pattern of saying hi and waving hello is him masking and repressing because his emotions literally are nuclear charged and he doesn’t want to be a threat. can we please.

[angel-of-the-moons]

The Ghost and The Relic

Merc!Ghost x Fem!Soul Survivor!Reader

TW/CW: Chem usage, raiders, slavers, murder, executions, child death.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Depending on how much I like this or how many people like this I might continue this but god I need to get this out of my head lmao.

☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀

It'd been four years since he took up this kind of work. Three since he'd joined up with the old man.

It was his idea, really, to form their little "Task Force" and roam the Wasteland, performing jobs here or there for settlements, providing temporary security and escort details for caravans...

But Simon "Ghost" Riley had a thought. Several, actually. But they all muddled together after a while, especially around his "team".

Their whole team, a rag-tag group of "soldiers" from all the way in the Mojave to managing, by sheer dumb luck to come ashore with their families from another goddamn country.

Ghost's family was one such case; they'd apparently immigrated 75 years after the Great War from someplace called London. He didn't care much about it, or his family, given how shit a hand he'd been dealt.

His father, the abusive sadistic bastard that he was, had fucked up his younger brother so badly that he himself turned to chems and booze, almost killing himself in the process.

Ghost had rejected that path, convinced his mother to leave his father, and they took his recovering brother and moved into a new shack he and a few of the other residents of their small farming settlement had built and they settled in there. Ghost took up a job in the local militia, defending their homes and settlements; and he became a terrifyingly good shot.

His little brother got clean, stayed sober, and married the girl from a neighboring farm. She was a good match for him and they both loved each other immensely. And it was to their small unit's great joy when they mentioned they were going to have a baby.

A baby boy. Joseph. Their mother was thrilled.

But it all came crashing down, eventually.

Thanks to the old rat bastard.

Raiders slipped right through their defenses during the changing of the watch, in the dead of night when the farmers were all tucked inside their homes.

They'd taken Ghost's farm first, nabbed him on the way down the dirt path to their shack and drug him to their camp, locked him in an old shipping crate.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, or how long he had been tortured... all he knew was that when he finally got free, their settlement was almost razed to the ground, the majority of the militia dead, women taken for sport.

And his family?

Dead. Well. His mother, brother, and sister-in-law anyways. There was still hope for little Joseph.

When he'd gotten to the meeting hall (or what was left of it) he found his father bound and beaten by the settlers, so tweaked out on jet and psycho he didn't even feel any of the pain.

He'd ratted them all out for some fucking chems, like the narcissistic, sociopathic junkie he was.

Ghost had suited up in the best scrap armor they had, bagged provisions, packed loaded weapons and plenty of homemade throwing knives, and set off to find Joseph and the others that had been taken as slaves.

He didn't even look back when he heard the gunshot from inside the hall.

He tracked them for days, maybe longer. He wasn't sure. All he felt was an all-consuming drive to get his nephew back, to save his former neighbors.

But he was too late. He found Joseph's crumpled little body beneath that of a partially nude woman, one he faintly recognized from the settlement, but not enough to recall her name as the haze settled in over his skin.

All he saw was red. Red, like the blood covering that poor, tiny, fragile body.

He moved in the dead of night, creeping like a spectre as he executed every raider and slaver he came across. He shot some, stabbed or slit the throats of others. One he left with his voice box slashed, another with their liver hanging out, both still alive as they bled to death in their dingy tents.

It took him less than an hour. A bunch of jet-addicted starved fools was nothing against Simon Riley and the black rage that swallowed him up.

He'd killed them all.

He led the surviving captives back to their settlement, along with the dead they could recognize, and then burned the camp.

Ghost cradled Joseph against him, swaddled tight in a ratty, blood-stained blanket.

The whole trek home, all his mind would think about was how tiny Joseph was. How he'd carried him like this multiple times back to his own bed after he'd curled up at their fireplace with their pet dog. How he carried him as a baby, and a toddler...

And now, he had to bury him alongside his parents and grandmother, and their beloved pet.

Simon Riley wasn't... he wasn't dead. But he wasn't alive either.

He was like a walking corpse.

A Ghost.

And his name became apt when he'd assumed that moniker (mostly due in part to the skull balaclavas he'd wear. The most intimidating one being the one with the actual skull attached to it...).

He moved like a Ghost, wandering aimlessly, performing jobs.

Then, he met the old man.

John Price, former NCR ranger, before he decided to retire early and leave. Well, more like he went AWOL.

Price was convincing in bringing Ghost into his makeshift military outfit.

There was Alex Keller, a former Great Khan that Price had picked up after his splinter tribe had been killed by his own former allies, the New California Republic.

Then there was Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, a Brotherhood of Steel scribe who became a soldier over a mission that went FUBAR, and left his chapter to travel with Price and his growing "unit".

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a rather peculiar man with a fondness for explosives who somehow managed to get close enough to Ghost to actually be considered a friend. He had been a Gunner, but left them shortly after he realized that he wanted to do good, not just work for caps.

And finally, there was Kate Laswell. Part of a small surviving group of something called the "Enclave" Price had explained what their group was at some point, but none of them particularly cared.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime Ghost was... Content. He had a purpose, no longer wandering aimlessly, part of a unit. A task force. "Task Force 141" Price named it. Apparently it was a nod to the unit he originally was assigned to as a young recruit for the NCR.

Very few of them focused on their past lives, they'd lost so much in their travels, in the shit order they'd been born in. There was no reason to think about all that, now.

After all, past is the past, is it not?

Not entirely, as Ghost came to find out.

Once they'd gotten through the remains of what used to be "New York City" back before the Great War (now it's simply called New Necropolis, given it's dessicated state, and it was strung tight with "death zones".

It wasn't until they moved a bit East that Ghost suggested they set up a permanent base of ops.

He suggested Boston, Massachusetts. It seemed like a good idea, supposedly riddled with Vaults they could repurpose, military checkpoints they could loot for scavenged gear...

Price surprisingly agreed to send him alone, like he asked. Ghost didn't want to risk the other members of his "family" on a possibility he may be wrong.

But... Ghost was rarely wrong these days.

Especially about the past staying in the past...

☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀☢️💀

He'd managed to trek to a ruined neighborhood surrounded by creeks and a river, by the looks of it, emptying out into a large lake with several other tributaries connecting.

Sanctuary Hills, the old, overgrown sign told him it was. Yeah, maybe 200 years ago, it was a sanctuary. But then again, maybe it could be again. A lot of the houses were still intact. Plenty of scrap metal, wood, etcetera.

Put up some reinforcements on the remaining structures by cannibalizing parts from the ruined structures, build some fences, plant a few crops for provisions, stockpile weapons in the cellar behind that one house...

What he hadn't anticipated on was a Pre-War Mr Handy, still futilely standing watch over his previous owner's house.

He took offense when Ghost set up his sleeping bag in the yellow house across from his master's, citing that it was "impolite" to assume the house was uninhabited.

Judging by the dusty skeletons lying in the back bedroom, yeah. It was uninhabited, save for the radroaches and bloatflies that took a liking to the "idyllic" neighborhood.

That damned robot harped non-stop, although the water it purified for him was something he was grateful for, his yammering certainly got on his nerves.

"Oh, you should have met Sir, he was a soldier too, you know! A rather polite chap, loved the Missus and their baby boy! Oh, how I miss them." The robot sighed, sounding almost wistful.

Could robots feel emotions? He'd yet to meet one that did.

But then again how long had this robot been alone, exactly?

Apparently, he remembered when the bombs were dropped. So, a very very long time. Ghost tried telling him his masters were probably dead by now, even in the safety of their "Vault" he couldn't get into. It's been 200 years.

"Look, bot..." Ghost sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask, setting his hammer down on the table.

He'd been trying to fix up the yellow house for a few weeks. He'd managed some work, namely the roof and larger holes, obviously. Codsworth had even been kind enough to help with the cutting and the welding, just glad to be of service to someone who didn't shoot at him.

"I'm a little busy, here. So if you want to get nostalgic, save it for when I--"

His eyes went wide and he went deathly silent when he heard some kind of alarm blaring across the hills. Very faint, but it was a completely alien sound from the ones he memorized from the area.

He'd grabbed his pistol, and immediately started for the trail leading to Vault 111.

Which... is where he met you.

Dressed only in your blue vault suit, with a Pip-Boy secured to your wrist, you stumbled down, blinded by the sunlight and delirious from being down there for... well.

You'd collapsed against him and Ghost grunted, deciding to carry you over his shoulders back down to Sanctuary.

He noticed a glare in the distance, like the glint from a pair of binoculars, but he paid it no mind.

The moment Codsworth had laid eyes on you, the robot would not. Shut. Up.

He kept chattering on, almost blubbering, actually.

"Oh! Oh, it's the Missus!" He'd declared, obviously confusing you for his owner, long dead...

"Oh, but where is Sir and young Shaun! Oh, why is she alone! Where are the others?" Codsworth lamented dramatically.

Ghost waved him off, checking your vitals and looking at you for any injuries.

You had none. In fact, you were perfect. Your skin was clean, spotless and pristine, unmarred by radiation or scars.

He'd been silently looking over you when you awoke in the dead of night, Codsworth busy purifying excess amounts of water, apparently finding an intact bathtub to fill, so you could have one when you awoke. Or for cooking, or drinking... he didn't really care.

He was so lost in his curiosity of the one thing he'd never seen before: you. A Vault-Dweller, that he didn't register your eyes opening, long, clean lashes fluttering as you blinked, adjusting to the dimly lit room, only illuminated by a single oil lamp.

He'd set up his spare sleeping bag for you to use, while you were unconscious.

He was honestly taken by surprise when you screamed at him; scrambling back in the opposite direction.

Oh. Right.

The mask.

Yeah, it made sense why you were freaked out. Not a lot of Vault-Dwellers were probably rocking skull masks as the latest fall fashion craze...

"Listen." He'd growled out, fixing you with a soft, yet stern glare. Ghost was not without his mercy, and he understood that this new world must have been terrifying for you.

"My name's Ghost. Not gonna hurt ya. What's your name?" He said, sticking his hands up in a non-threatening manner.

When you'd uttered your name, his eyes widened visibly. It was the same name that Codsworth had said. Could be a coincidence.

That is... Until you told him about being frozen. For 200 years.

"I... I woke up, when..." You said, your voice breaking apart to cough, your mouth unreasonably dry.

Ghost had moved to kneel in front of you, handing you his old, dented canteen to drink down in a few gulps before wiping your face with the back of your hand.

"Oh god." You cried softly. "They killed him! They took my baby!"

Ghost's ears instantly perked up, and his own past flashed in the back of his mind before he pushed it aside.

"Who did?" He pressed.

"I don't know. Some... Some guy. A guy with a scar, and a gun, he... There was a woman in a radiation suit, then the man... Nate, he..." Your voice broke off in a choked sob.

He felt pity and sympathy for you after you'd given him bits of information.

And when Codsworth came doddering in to investigate your screams, Ghost knew you were legit.

You were his owner.

And you'd been frozen for 200 years inside an ice box; your family ripped away from you by some cruel force.

After a tearful reunion and the viewing of a highly emotional holotape, Ghost watched as you silently walked back into what used to be your home.

He gave you your privacy to acclimate (kind of) into your new "life", until he decided that some things needed to be said. You couldn't be emotional in the wasteland, that got people killed.

It could get you killed.

So Ghost decided to follow after you, where he found you on your knees in front of your baby son, Shaun's, crib, clinging to a slightly rotted rocketship that was once connected to the mobile that dangled above.

You clutched it to your heart as you sobbed quietly at the horror of it all.

What had the world become? How could you, a former lawyer, survive this?

Ghost cleared his throat and straightened his posture in the doorway, looking at you in the dark. The moon was full, casting dim cool shadows through the holes in the structure.

"I know this 's hard for you." His gravelly voice dragged out with each slow, deliberate step he took towards you.

He had to take it slow, like you were a wounded animal.

'Hnh. Not that far off, actually.' He thought.

"But you got'ta understand. You need to learn how to survive here, now. If you don't, you're as good as dead."

"What's the point?!" You snap, standing to your feet and tossing the plastic rocket at him.

It bounced harmlessly off his barreled chest and clattered to the floor.

"I don't have my son, I don't have my husband, I don't have my family!" You said through fresh, hot tears as your anger and grief rose to the surface.

And just like that, the flames died, and you flickered out, deflating into more quiet cries as you stood, defeated.

"I have nothing."

"Not true." Ghost said, shaking his head. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "You got a bot out there that's been making water for you for bloody hours, now just so you can take a bath. He's still here, and he's been waiting for you all this time."

You looked at him, eyes glassy and oh-so hurt, but you let him continue.

"And you have your little boy. Somebody stole him." His eyes flashed in the darkness of the room, a glint only illuminated by the moon's light, taking more steps to you until he was face-to-face with you, looking down at you.

God, this man was terrifying.

"And you're going to get him back."

"What...? But--but how? I'm just... me! I was a lawyer, for God's sake!" You blathered.

"First thing's first: you learn to survive." Ghost told you bluntly. "Then..."

He reached into the holster on his chest and slapped a pistol into your hands, the weight almost as hefty as the one you felt settle onto your shoulders, and into your heart.

"You learn to defend yourself. You need to learn to shoot."

He turned to walk away, gesturing for you to follow with a jerk of his head.

"C'mon, then. Let's get to it." He grunted.

"Right now?" You stumbled as you followed him out into the ruined street. "It's past midnight!"

"No time like the present."

You couldn't tell, but you were certain this man was smirking at you behind his mask.

"Hey... what's your name?" You asked him as he began to line up old cans and bottles against a rusted car.

"Name's Ghost, like I said. Now, lift the gun and aim down sights. Don't pull the trigger. Squeeze it."

"What does that even mean?" You asked, taking aim as he stood beside you, still as a statue.

'Still as death.' You thought sardonically.

He grunted again, his voice coming out an annoyed growl:

"If you want to survive, you'll learn what it means. Now, keep both eyes open..."