#he liked house of wax. insane person

[ambreiiigns]

brother's slashers tier list updated + he wanted to make one for the slasher characters specifically

[tsuutarr]

You don't know when it started, but you've been finding letters hidden throughout your house. At first, you just assume that they're leftover letters from a past tenant – cute, sweet love letters. You don't mean to, but you end up reading them whenever you find them, heart fuzzy from how cute the letters are.

“I’ve been watching you for some time. I think you’re cute.”

“I love you so much, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I wish that you could see me like I see you.”

The love letters you find are filled to the brim with the writer’s affection. You can only hope someone will love you that much.

But, at some point, the letters you read start to feel a little… off. At first, they seemed like letters that simply waxed poetic about some unidentified person – someone you don’t know at all. However, the more letters you find, the more the letters feel like they’re being written about you.

Letters begin to describe your appearance in great detail, commenting on how beautiful your eyes and hair are. Then, the letters begin to describe your hobbies and personality, even the sides you keep hidden from the public eye. The final nail on the coffin is when these letters begin to describe, in detail, your day-to-day activities, from when you eat to when you shower to when you leave the house.

The worst part is that nothing really seems amiss – you don’t see any hidden cameras and you don’t notice anyone following you. Hell, you installed some security cameras, only to come up completely empty. It’s honestly driving you completely insane.

But don’t worry – you’ll soon see who your secret admirer is. Yes, indeed, just give your ghost roommate a little more time and he’ll be able to make himself visible to you.

And when he does, there’ll be no escape.

Maybe there never was one in the first place.

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Strength Kink + Size Kink | Kim Mingyu

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x plus-size!afab!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Fluff, Best friends to lovers, Kinktober 2023

Summary: A simple movie night leads to Mingyu discovering something interesting about his best friend, and the lines between friendship and more start to blur

WC: 4.2k (I got carried away)

Warnings: manhandling, Mingyu has a huge cock, this man is whipped, unprotected sex (be safe, have fun), fingering, one pussy slap, creampie, Gyu has a filthy mouth...literally can't shut up, reader is called a lot of petnames (sweetheart, baby, pretty, pretty girl), lots of messy kissing

A/N: I got brainrot...

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

You had been in many precarious positions with Kim Mingyu. He was one of your closest friends, the two of you having been friends for as long as you could remember. He was there when you tripped and fell in front of your first crush in elementary school, and you were there when he tried to do a backflip and broke his wrist in junior high. You'd seen enough embarrassing moments from him to think of him as anything more than your partner in crime. You understood, objectively speaking, that he was attractive. He'd always been tall, and he was incredibly charming in his own goofy way. But having people be jealous of you for being so close with him had never made any sense.

It got worse the older you got. Into college when Mingyu started really growing into himself, when he started opening up his social circle and meeting so many people that practically everyone knew him. He had gym friends, and class friends, and then he rushed a frat and it was insane how much harder it was to spend one on one time with your best friend.

But you weren't a jealous person, and you knew perfectly well that nobody was going to take your place in Mingyu's life. You joked that nobody would understand him the way that you did unless they'd waxed his legs like you had. He said that it didn't matter if they'd done that, they'd never compare to you. You ignored the way it made your heart jump in your chest.

Now that the both of you were out of college, chasing your own separate careers and living on opposite ends of the city, it was hard to find time for the two of you. Your past weekly lunches turned into weekend facetime calls between morning workouts and nights out with your respective friend groups. The best nights, however, were the ones where you crashed at his house instead of your own, weekends where your schedules cleared up enough for you to make plans. And the sleepovers were never planned, just game nights that stretched into movie nights, which stretched into late night conversations, and eventually falling asleep on his bed and waking up to the smell of him making breakfast.

You were in the midst of one of those nights now, the two of you curled on the couch after playing video games for a while. That was cut short by Mingyu pouting at you and claiming your winning streak had to be some sort of cheating. Now you were sitting opposite him on the couch, the bowl of popcorn he'd made for the both of you sitting in your lap. He reached over, and you stretched your arm away from him, effortlessly hoarding the popcorn. He let out a whine of your name, the pout evident in his voice, but you just grinned and giggled. He gave up, and you settled the bowl back down in your lap, tossing a couple pieces into your mouth.

After a few moments, when he thought you were thoroughly distracted, he tried to reach for the popcorn again. But just when he thought he had it, you held it out of his reach again, sending him a playful glare.

"Snack stealer," He huffed out. You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Should have brought more snacks if you wanted to share." You teased him. He stared at you for a moment, only looking away to eye the bowl of popcorn that he so desperately wanted. Then he was lunging towards you, and you let out a startled screech, scrambling backwards to keep from getting completely trapped under his upper body. He grabbed your leg, using it to pull you closer to him, and another startled noise slipped out of you as he tugged until you were almost completely laying down on the couch.

Even with him clearly having the upper hand, you refused to give up so easily. You pushed your knee against his side, mostly as a distraction as you managed to wiggle out from under him, getting to your feet and hugging the popcorn bowl to your chest as you searched for the best escape route. Your best bet was his room, but that was so far away and there was a pile of blankets on the floor in your way from the fort you never ended up making.

Before you could come up with any sort of decent plan, Mingyu was grabbing your bicep in a large hand, pulling you back and easily manhandling you around, pushing you firmly onto the couch and snatching the bowl from your hands. You whined when your back hit the soft cushions of the couch. It was a high pitched, pathetic sound, very much reminiscent of the spark that zipped through your stomach and burned between your thighs.

Oh. That was new. You squirmed, pressing your thighs together to try and ease the pulse that had picked up in your core. You'd never thought about how strong Mingyu was. I mean sure, he carried the groceries for you and he worked out regularly, and sure you'd noticed in passing how bulky he'd gotten over the past couple of years, but it hadn't really sunk in just how thick he was now. His thighs, his biceps. Hell, you were pretty sure his tits were going to be bigger than yours one day.

"Earth to Y/N," A voice finally broke through the not so innocent thoughts that were backing up your brain, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and dark and looking every bit like a deer in the headlights. Mingyu gave you a baffled look, tossing some popcorn up and catching it in his mouth. You eyed the expanse of his neck, the way his jaw flexed as he chewed, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallowed. Holy fucking shit. Maybe now you finally understood what the big deal was. Mingyu was a wet dream. "Why are you staring at me like that? Did I hurt you?"

There was something about the genuine concern in his voice that messed with your head. And in messing with your head, it apparently fucked up the brain to mouth filter in your mind.

"You're just so fucking hot," You blurted out. Immediately after, your hand slapped over your mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut. If you couldn't see him, then he couldn't see you and the absolutely mortified look on your face. Now how the hell had you, after over a decade of being in Mingyu's presence, managed to embarrass yourself more than you ever had before? And then Mingyu laughed, and you would have sunk all the way into the springs and wood of the couch if you could have, suffocated in the cushion stuffing.

"Thanks. You're pretty hot yourself." He said after a few moments, once the sweet music of his laughter had died down to delighted giggles. You groaned, tipping your head back and flipping him off. "Hey! I'm serious. You're sexy as hell, everyone knows it. Why am I not allowed to say it?"

You looked at him then, entirely at a loss for words. And it wasn't that you were insecure, you knew you were attractive enough, but you'd never heard Mingyu talk about you that way. Hell, you hadn't heard much of anyone talking about you that way. And with the newfound...admiration of your best friend's assets, your body warmed at the thought of him thinking about yours.

"It's not that. You're allowed to say it if you want, I guess. Just surprised is all." You explained, shifting a little bit where you were laying. You could feel how wet you were getting now, the way your panties were starting to stick to your core.

"I mean I'm not the one who just shouted that you're hot. I was just returning the compliment." He joked. You huffed, sending another harsh glare in his direction. He didn't pay it any mind, instead leaning over you and moving you so you were sitting a little more properly, effectively pushing you out of his spot. This time you did moan out loud, your body reacting on instinct as your thighs clenched together again.

Mingyu paused, his hand still gripping at the flesh of your thigh, and he felt the way you tensed under him, the flutter of your eyelids. He let out a breathless chuckle, his lips curling into a smirk of pure disbelief.

"No way. You're getting off on that." He accused. Your jaw dropped open, and you searched your mind for any coherent argument that you could make to save the last shreds of your dignity. "You like when I toss you around like that."

"I don't!" You lied, your face burning so hot you were pretty sure you were a second and a half away from combusting. Liar, liar, face on fire or whatever. "It's just that nobody has ever done that before. Never been able to, really."

Mingyu looked surprised, though you were pretty sure he could still see right through whatever lie you were trying to hide behind.

"You're not that heavy. Sounds like people need to try harder." He shrugged, and a shiver ran down your spine. You hadn't expected that. And the more you thought about it the more you started recognizing how much muscle he had. His biceps were bigger than you'd thought about, and his thighs were almost as big as yours, pure muscle.

"I think you're just bluffing. But seriously, it doesn't matter. Don't go reading into it or some stupid shit." You said, fixing him with an ever so menacing finger point. He didn't give in the way you wanted to, instead gripping your wrist with one hand and pinning it above your head.

"Bluffing?" He was so close, you could feel the weight of him crushing in on you. You could smell his cologne, the one you'd bought him a couple of Christmases ago. "Oh, baby, you have no idea what I'm capable of. But I bet you wanna find out. Don't you, pretty girl?"

Any hesitance was out the window, consequences were a concern for whenever you woke up from this absolute dream. You nodded your head, chewing on your bottom lip. Fuck you wanted to know what he was capable of, wanted him to show you that your standards could use some raising. And that was never something that Mingyu had any problems doing.

He laughed, dark and deeper than usual, his eyes scanning over your face like he was taking you in for the first time all over again, learning every miniscule detail. Then he was crashing his lips against yours, closing in even more so you could feel the planes of his sculpted chest pressing against the softness of yours. He was warm, he always was, and your hands gravitated towards his shirt, sliding under the fabric to feel along the curve of his waist, down to the dips of his defined v-lines. How had you spent years ignoring this body?

The kiss was slow, deep, and dragged out the most pathetic whines from you. He was good at this, at working you up with a simple glide of his tongue against yours, or the tiniest dig of teeth against your bottom lip. Eventually his kisses trailed lower, along your soft jaw, down your neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin just above the dip of your neckline.

"Gyu," You whined, fisting at his shirt and tugging him impossibly closer. His hips slotted between yours, large hands gripping at your hips and pulling you close.

"What is it, baby? Need something?" He asked, taking the moment to push his hands under your shirt, kneading the softness of your waist and making you hiss out a quiet breath.

"Want you." You said, looking up at him with the sweetest eyes that had him absolutely melting into a puddle.

"Anything you want, baby, it's all yours." He promised. When he moved away from you, you started to protest, but then he was picking you up, guiding your arms around his neck and hooking your legs around his thighs like you weighed nothing. You squealed, hiding in his neck.

"I'm not built to have my feet off the ground, Kim Mingyu!" You chastised, but he just grinned, groping at your plush thighs that he always loved so much.

"What, you afraid of heights?" He asked with a smirk, already striding towards his bedroom. You didn't let go of him even for a moment, but your hands did wander a little, groping at the muscles you'd been so indifferent towards before. After all, who knew how many opportunities you'd have to do this again in the future.

Then you were being tossed on his bed, the mattress squeaking beneath you as you bounced, but it didn't take long for Mingyu to follow, closing in over top of you and caging you against his bed. You reached up, fingers carding through his dark hair and pulling him down to kiss you again. His lips against yours was quickly becoming an addictive feeling. He tasted like the beer he'd been sipping earlier in the night, a taste that you were pretty sure you'd only enjoy off of him.

He pulled back, sitting up on his knees to discard his shirt, then moving on to do the same to yours. He pouted at the sight of your bra as if it were a personal affront to him, then he was looking at you, waiting for your permission to take it off. You didn't give it to him, instead reaching underneath you to unhook it, sliding it off and watching the way his eyes glossed over, his tongue poking against his cheek. He was eating you alive with his gaze, and he looked lost to the world when his hands cupped your tits. He groaned, weighing them in his hands and kneading them gently before dipping his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples.

You squirmed, and one of his hands pinned your waist harder against the bed, keeping you put even just with the thought of overpowering you. You whined, his tongue making messy work around your hardening nipple, wetting a great portion of your breast, not that you could complain when it felt good. It was amazing having him ravish you the way he was, tasting every inch of skin and leaving tiny marks in his wake. Then he was switching to the other, giving it the same treatment until he pulled away. He had a delighted grin on his swollen, spit slicked lips.

"You're so fucking pretty. Look at these tits," He mumbled, still playing with them as if he were entirely fascinated and couldn't move on. You whined louder now, fixing him with the best pout you could.

"Mingyu, need you. Don't tease me. Can play with my boobs later." You were nearly throwing a tantrum with the annoying whine in your voice and the way you squirmed and huffed underneath him. He tutted, though he still made his progress downwards, kissing along your tummy and tucking his fingers under the edge of your pants to take them off for you.

"So impatient. Need to be full that bad?" He asked.

"Yeah," You agreed instantly, propping yourself up so you could watch the descent he made, the way his mouth was practically worshiping your curves. You knew he'd always had a type, but you'd never put two and two together you supposed. "Want you to fuck me, Gyu. Want it so bad. Please,"

Mingyu grinned, pulling off your pants and your soaked panties in one go, leaving you completely bare underneath him. He cursed lowly, the sound of his voice sending another shiver down your spine. He dug his fingertips into your thighs, spreading them open to get to what he had been aching for for ages.

"So wet already. Just from being manhandled a little? Didn't know you were so dirty," He teased, and you fixed him with a heatless glare. "Gonna have to taste you next time. Don't think you're patient enough to wait through that and stretching you out for me."

"Don't need you to stretch me out," You said quickly, the thought of his mouth on your aching pussy enough to send you into a little frenzy. "Can just eat me out and then fuck me, right Gyu? Don't have to get me ready."

"Oh, sweetheart. You're gonna need to be opened up. Don't wanna break you." He hummed, fingers already sliding through your arousal, dragging it over your lower lips, then up to swirl around your clit. You gasped softly, a content hum rumbling through your chest as he finally eased the burning need to be touched.

"I'm not a virgin, Mingyu! I know how to take dick." You argued, and he landed a single slap against your pussy. You cried out, your thighs twitching shut at the sting. You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle the pathetic moan begging to come out when Mingyu wrenched your legs back open, pressing them where he wanted them and giving you a quick warning look. One that said loud and clear don't make me move them again.

"Nobody said you were. But I've heard about your sex life, and nobody has fucked you open enough to take me. So I have to do the hard work myself." He told you. You didn't even have a moment to form a response, his middle finger sinking into you with ease. You gripped at his sheets, not having expected the feeling but certainly delighted by it.

"Another, Gyu. Please." You said, less demanding this time. He liked that, the way that you seemed to be done arguing with him, finally taking what he was giving you. He slid a second of his long fingers inside of you, scissoring them and twisting them carefully. You called his name when he found the spongy spot that sent your stomach tumbling and twisting. He hummed, focusing his attention on caressing that spot and watching the way that you gushed around him.

His brow was furrowed in complete concentration, his expression the definition of focus, and it had you feeling so seen that you couldn't help but squirm.

"Stay put, pretty girl." He demanded softly, and you whimpered.

"Then stop looking at me like that! Making me shy."

"How shy can you get when I'm knuckles deep in your dripping cunt?" He asked, curling his fingers again to earn more of the pretty sounds he kept pulling out of you. "Thought you were begging for my dick earlier, but I can't look at what's mine? That doesn't seem quite right, baby."

You huffed and whined, not entirely able to form thoughts but wanted to argue against his teasing. He just chuckled, pulling his hand away to ease a third finger into you. The stretch stung for a moment, and he pressed kisses to the insides of your thighs in a silent apology as he worked you open just a little more.

"Alright, think we can try now. You ready, baby?" He asked, pulling his fingers out for good this time and leaving you feeling tragically empty. You nodded though, knowing that the moment of waiting would be so worth it once you had him fucking you into next week.

Mingyu grinned, getting up to kick off his pants and take off his boxers. What you were greeted by left your jaw hanging open in disbelief. It shouldn't have surprised you that his cock was as breathtaking as he was, and it certainly shouldn't have surprised you that it was just as big and thick as he was. You watched the way he stroked himself, your wetness from his fingers smearing along his length. He wasn't terribly long, but he was so goddamn thick that you couldn't imagine your body opening up enough to take him. The head was leaking, a tiny stream of precum dripping down the pretty pink tip.

"Now do you see why I had to get you ready. Can't go hurting my pretty baby, gotta make sure you can take it."

"You're so big," You said despite the fact that both of you knew this by now. "Never even seen such a perfect cock. Fuck, you're gonna ruin me."

Mingyu groaned, his dick twitching in his palm. He needed you, maybe more than you needed him right then. He returned to his place between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock to nudge against your clit and watching the way your hole clenched around nothing.

"Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

You nodded frantically, hands reaching down to hold your thighs apart for him, and he nearly went into cardiac arrest at the sight. How had he let anyone fuck this pretty pussy before he had? Let anyone else even try to make you feel good? He didn't like thinking about it. So instead he lined himself up with your eager hole, slowly pressing the tip in until he finally slid home. You shivered and whined at the feeling of him sinking into you. His movements were slow, still worried about hurting you as he pressed into you inch by inch.

By the time he was bottomed out, tears were welling along your lash line, and your walls were spasming around his length, trying desperately to get used to being split open. You tried to steady your breathing, to relax so you weren't choking his dick so tight. He reached down, rubbing slow circles on your clit and mumbling words of encouragement that were only serving to make you more needy.

"Just gotta relax, baby. Already taking me so well. Gonna make you feel so good. Fuck," He gripped at your thigh, squeezing it to try and keep his control steady. But fuck he wanted to rail you so hard you cried on his cock, and his self restraint was slipping through his fingertips.

"Fuck me, Gyu. Can take it, I'm ready." You begged, hips wiggling to get more of the delicious stretch. He didn't have to be told twice. He guided one of your legs to wrap around his waist, leaning down so his arms were caging you in and all you could see, all you could feel, all you could smell was him. You pulled him closer as his hips started to roll. Out, then in, then out again, faster and faster until he was setting a brutal pace.

His sheer size was enough to have you spiraling towards an orgasm, but the way his pistoned into you, the sloppy sounds of your hole gushing around him filling his room. It was embarrassing in all the right ways. You pulled him in to kiss you, and this time the kiss was rushed and desperate, teeth clacking against each other, and saliva making a mess of your face, but you didn't care. Not when all you could think about was the fact that you could feel him in your stomach.

"So close," You warned him, and he chuckled, moving to suck a hickey onto your neck.

"Already gonna cum for me? Did I fuck you that good? Thought you said you could take it." He taunted, though it was obvious from the strain in his voice and the wavering of his thrusts that he probably wasn't gonna last a whole lot longer either.

"Yeah, fuck me so good, Gyu. Feels so fucking perfect. Your cock fills me up so full, can't fucking breathe. Mingyu, please. Please I need to cum." You babbled, tears finally starting to drip down your cheeks. He wiped them away with a touch much more tender than the way his hips were slamming against yours.

"Go on then, soak my cock. Show me how good I make you feel. Gonna ruin you for anyone else, only gonna need my dick." He was practically whining, trying to hold onto the last ounce of control he had. But then you were coming around him, walls milking him for all he had and he was an absolute goner. Your breathless chant on his name made him cum, filling you up so deep and so full that you couldn't do anything but cling to him and bask in the warmth of it.

He was careful as he collapsed against you not to squish you under his weight, half holding himself up at your side as he held you closer.

"Did so fucking good, took my cock so perfectly. Fucking made for me." He mumbled, leaving a trail of warm, gentle kisses along your shoulder.

"Gyu, you're gonna get hard again if you don't pull out." You warned him, already feeling his cock trying to return to full mast. He just grumbled.

"Gonna get hard again if I pull out too. You're just hot. Can't help it. Looked so pretty when you came because of me." He whined for real this time, a worked up, defeated sound. "We can go again, right? You can take another! Just give me a minute to get ready again. Gonna fuck you again."

You were in for a long night, but you couldn't possibly say no to those big brown eyes.

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[withlove-xixi]

— THE CHURCH ON THE EDGE OF THE BED: kabru x reader

KINKTOBER DAY THREE: BODY WORSHIP ᥫ cw: nsfw, body worship, oral sex, religious imagery (i guess) ᥫ wc: 1126 ★ erm .. i think this turned out more romantic than sexual .. my apologies i grew up in a religious community and im a lesbian now [٩(๑`ȏ´๑)۶ thank you @cavern-creature for the suggestion!] cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— KABRU WASN’T A RELIGIOUS MAN.

[♡]: honestly, he didn’t quite get the concept much. no greater being really interested him, no ritual brought him to his knees, no prayer left his lips. he didn’t really get religion, but he had his own god.

THIS WAS KABRU’S FAVORITE VIEW, the expanse of heaven that stretched for what seemed like infinity, the impossibly perfect stretch of soft skin as breathtaking as springtime flower fields. And he’s got the best seat in the house too; kneeling against the edge of the bed, looking up at your naked figure.

The first time you had Kabru like this, you were flustered, embarrassed even. Piercing blue eyes almost seemed to study you, learning the way the muscles on your face twitched when he pressed gentle kisses on your thighs, memorizing every curve and dip on your body when he pinned you beneath him. It was intimidating to say the least. And it felt like he was about to take down notes, keep a nice well-documented report on how you were in the bedroom.

And if he were any less sane, he might’ve.

And if we’re being honest, with the way you were looking at him right now, the back of your hand pressed against your mouth to hide your flustered expression, the squint of your eyes and the furrow of your brows from the sheer difficulty to focus, the rosy flush that kisses your cheeks and the tips of your ears like moonlight, it was driving him to the edge of insanity.

Kabru kisses your knee, hands gently coaxing them apart to reveal to him the space between your thighs. He swallows at the sight, eyes fixed on the way you look, trailing down your body with such adoration until his eyes land on the space in front of him, the deliciously divine fruit between your thighs. His tongue pokes out from between his lips, moistening them, licking them in hungry anticipation. His eyes dart back to meet yours, graced against by that beautiful expression on your face with your bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth in a harsh bite.

He’s patient, almost for the first time in his life, he’s patient. His long lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks, a silent plea for permission, for command. When you give him a slow nod, your cheeks only turning a deeper shade of red and pupils dilating in an almost-hazy way, his heart skips a beat in gratitude. If he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve gotten down on them to mouth praise and thanks against the flesh of your thighs as he kissed towards your core.

Your hand leaves its hold on your mouth and moves to tread through the dark, curly tresses atop Kabru’s head. The touch is gentle, soothing, but Kabru would’ve called it merciful. Yeah, that’s what you were. Such a kind, loving and merciful thing, indulging Kabru in every little sinful desire that ate away at his heart. Such a softhearted god to provide him so many graces, and at the mere bat of his eyelashes at that!

Something about you lights this passion inside Kabru, one he feels for no other person. It grants him the smallest semblance of understanding for Holm and his silly little deities. He understands what it means to devote yourself to someone to such an intense degree, he understands what it was like to so readily fall on your knees in worship, he understands what it feels to have your life be changed in the most mind-shattering manner.

To show his gratitude, to you and your mercy, he kisses from your knee, slowly and gently working his way up your thigh, lips sealing seering kisses against your perfect skin like wax on a love letter, like laying his life at the altar.

As if to prove your divinity, your kindness, your compassion, your whimper, a soft sounding hymn that sings like angel song in Kabru’s ear. He feels his heart race at the sound. His hands remain on your knees, keeping you spread wide apart for him, giving him access to every inch of your heavenly body. His kisses— his show of devotion —finally reach your core, and he pauses to fully indulge himself in your presence, to fully take in your indescribable holy image. He feels you tug at his roots, just slightly to tell him to quit his antics and get to work. A smile grows on his face, his god’s request is one he can’t ever deny, not for too long at least.

His lips meet your ache, a soft, gentle kiss at first, one that elicits that sweet angelic moan from your pretty lips, the same one that replays in Kabru’s mind in an attempt to memorize the sound. Soon his tongue pokes out, licking intentionally slow stripes against you, feeling your every twitch against the muscle. You reward him by pressing your hips against his face, pulling him against you by his hair. Kabru sighs dreamily at the act, encouraged to keep lapping wherever you’re most sensitive, to keep kissing and licking and sucking until the whole room echoes with only the holy preachings of your lips, the breathy moans and shy mewls that rivaled the scripture people had tried to teach him.

This was his worship, you were his altar, his god. You were some taste of heaven, some fragment of divinity, put on this mortal plane just for him because you were kind like that, you were merciful. He’s convinced no other god can exist, no greater being lives in some outside plane beyond the world he knows because nothing could have ever conjured up something as precious as you, someone as perfect as you. Your eyes rivaled the stars in the night, your voice rivaled the sounds of spring, your beauty rivaled the treasures of this world.

He huffs against you, his grip on your knees tightening very so slightly, a feeble attempt at grounding himself back to earth when he was buried far beyond the paradise of heaven. You whine at the feeling, hips bucking towards his face, gently rolling against his face, rubbing yourself at his eager mouth and tongue.

“Cl… close…” Your whisper, voice so soft and shaky it almost sounded broken.

There’s a primal sound that erupts from Kabru’s throat and vibrates pleasantly against your flesh, some sort of animalistic growl that has you miserably whimpering, writhing under his careful touch. He kisses you with more gusto, each time his lips and tongue meet your skin was another testament to his love, his devotion, his faith.

Your grip tightens, pulling harshly now on his silken locks, your knees threaten to snap shut around his head. Kabru continues his prayer, moaning against you when he feels you tug at his hair again.

He’s rewarded with a groan, almost frustrated the way it falls off your lips in near desperation. “Kabru, more, please. Gods—”

Gods. What use were gods when he had you?

[loveandmurders]

Love is insanity (Sinclair daughter!reader one shot)

Hello everyone. Today I'm posting a one shot about reader being Bo's daughter, but her mother took her away from him. Not gonna lie, this is pure angst.

Hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst, no proof reading, mentions of violence, blood and death, reader is kidnapped by her mother.

You were Bo’s first thought when he was getting up every day of his life. 

He wondered how you were doing; he hoped you were happy and, more than anything, he prayed for you to come back to him one day. Every morning and every night, he was going into your room. It never failed to break his heart; he couldn’t stand how empty the room was, but he just couldn’t help himself to check it because it was all he had left of you. You were the happiest thing that ever happened to him; and yet your mother took you away from him. It felt like a punishment that he knew he deserved. But it wasn’t making this any more bearable.

Your mother had done anything to survive, including marrying him. Bo wasn’t too sure he really loved her, but he tolerated her and he was enjoying her in bed. He also liked the idea to get married because he was a family man. The woman did find Bo attractive and she had been glad to have fun with him. She hadn’t cared much about the wedding, but she didn’t want to say no to a man who could kill her and ask his twin to turn her into a wax statue. The killing was bothering her a lot, and she was terrified. She wanted to get out of here, no matter how much Bo could sometimes be a nice man to her when he wanted to be. 

Or when she got pregnant.

The day she told him she was, she had been very nervous, not too certain how he was going to react. Bo had looked into her eyes to make sure she wasn’t lying about it before a big smile appeared on his face. She had never seen him smiling like that before; a genuine and happy smile. He kissed with fierce passion and he started to be very gentle to her. He was doing his best to not argue with her anymore, he didn’t yell at his siblings in front of her, he didn’t allow her to do any more chores, even in the house. He was usually rough when they were having sex, but he started to be more careful. She couldn’t deny that Bo was showing a new side of his personality. He had been by her side the whole time she went into labour. And he was so emotional when he took you, his daughter, in his arms for the first time.

And then he never let you go. He stayed nice to your mother, because she was your mother. He wasn’t caring too much about her anymore, but he didn’t want to do anything that would upset you. He wanted you by his side all the time, and it seemed you did too. You were very close to one another. If your mother was asking you to come with her, you were always looking back at Bo to make sure he wouldn’t like to have you instead. 

Bo was affectionate with you and he was sincerely trying to be a good father to you. He never showed you the angry side of his personality, and he never let you see him covered in blood. You were the most important person in the house. You also adored your uncles and they all doted on you. You were a Sinclair, you were their heir and they loved you so much. Your mother was happy they were all so distracted with you that she could plan an escape for you and herself. It took her 8 years to find out a way, but when she finally did, you both disappeared before Bo could do anything about it.

She left a message on the kitchen table for him to find in the morning. He had known right away something was off because she wasn’t in bed, there was no sound from the kitchen and his darling daughter didn’t open the bedroom door to greet him. When he had checked your room, it was empty and your favourite plushie - a teddy bear Lester got you when you were three - was gone. His stomach was twisted when he saw the note and started to read it.

We’re leaving and we’ll never come back. Don’t look for us or I’ll tell Y/N who you truly are. I’ll tell her what the statues she loved so much are made of. I won’t call the police on you because I’ve been part of it for a long time and Y/N needs some normality in her life from now on.

Hope to never see you again, and hope you have enjoyed your daughter’s presence till it lasted. I know you truly loved her, but she deserves better and you know it too. I’ll make sure she’ll forget about you.

Bye, Bo, see you in hell.

He couldn't express how broken he felt when he read those words and his brothers and himself looked for the two of you for weeks. 

But you truly were gone. 

After this, Bo had been very difficult to live with, and Lester wasn’t often home anymore. Vincent didn’t say anything and he let Bo be mad. He perfectly understood that his twin just lost his favourite person in the world and that it was very hard for him. Vincent was also very disappointed because he had started to teach you how to sculpt… They lost their heir. And Bo lost his sanity.

He couldn’t stand to see kids any longer, and Lester was always keeping families away from Ambrose because he knew Bo would have a very bad breakdown otherwise. When Vincent was asking him if he needed anything before he would go to his basement, Bo was always shrugging and saying “Apart from my daughter, ya mean?”. And there were always tears in his voice when he was mentioning you. Lester and Vincent never talked about you; you were too much of a sensitive subject. Bo was sometimes drinking in front of his TV, until he would fall asleep, so he could forget he lost the only thing he promised himself to never hurt and to always love. But how could he show you he loved you when you were away from him?

Bo was trying very hard to calm down and to focus on work and on his siblings; but it was almost impossible now he didn’t really believe in a future. You were his future. And everything was gone.

It had been ten years.

And it still hurt like the first day.

He often tried to imagine you and you were of course such a beautiful young woman now. He was certain he would have been so proud to have you, to know you. And he simply truly hoped that you had indeed a better life without him.

You would beg to differ. You had missed your dad just as much as he had missed you. But whenever you would try to talk about him to your mother, she would lock herself in her room and blast music into the speakers so loud she couldn’t hear you. She wanted to forget about all the awful things she saw and did during those years in Ambrose, and even if she loved you, she wanted to forget you were the daughter of a sadistic killer. 

She was quite desperate about how you never stopped talking about your dad. She knew you had a bound, but she had hoped she would be able to break it, or at least that time would be able to. She was wrong and she was aware of it.

You needed your father more than anything. And one day, you decided it was time to get back home. You had passed your driving licence and you had some holidays before the next school year would start. You stole your mother’s car, just leaving a note on the kitchen table, like she did years ago.

Need to go see my dad. Please, don’t call the cops on me, I know what I’m doing and I’ll be back soon.

Love you, Y/N. 

Your mother had no intention in calling for the cops. She drank a lot that day, terrified for you and for what you were going to discover. She was pretty certain that if the Sinclairs were still alive, they were also still killing people and turning them into wax statues. In a way, she had always wanted to preserve the happy memories you had from Ambrose. She was scared Bo was going to ruin it.

Even though you were 8 when you got snatched away from Ambrose, you remembered how to get there. Maybe it was because since then you had dreamt to come back home, or because everything in you knew how to come back there. You belonged to Ambrose and to your father. You loved your mother but it was nothing compared to the adoration you used to have for Bo. You were worrying to be disappointed - or even worse to disappoint him - when you would meet him again, but you needed to see him again.

You drove and drove for days, having quick stops at motels, until you found the dusty roads leading to your hometown. You instantly recognised them because you never stopped seeing them in your dreams. You had travelled so much on them with your uncle Lester that you couldn’t mistake them either. You continued to drive and you smiled when you saw the sign advertising the House of Wax. You wondered how it was now, because you could imagine that your uncle Vincent had worked a lot on it while you were gone. It had been ten years after all, and it saddened you even more. You wished your dad could have seen you growing up. He barely had the time to teach you how to use a gun and to fix cars; and your mom was afraid of weapons so you never touched another one.

When you arrived in Ambrose, you felt like something was off. And yet oddly familiar at the same time. You noticed blood on the ground, and you heard screams coming from the museum. You parked your car next to your father’s mechanic shop and wondered what to do. You used to hear people scream in Ambrose when you were small, even if your mother was always putting on loud music in the house for the two of you to forget about what was truly happening. You had often asked questions about it to your dad but Bo never answered you. 

You got out of your car, not too sure what to do. You remembered that your dad always asked you to safely stay home when you were hearing noises in town. You had always obeyed your father, because you disliked displeasing him. But now it would feel strange to get inside the house without anyone knowing it… It hadn’t been your home in ten years. You noticed that the screams were quietening down. You carefully walked to the house. It seemed like nothing had changed. You knocked at the door but no one answered. You weren’t too surprised about it because your dad and uncles were often out and about.

You finally decided to get inside. You needed to get some glass of fresh water anyways and you thought your family wouldn’t mind. You were surprised how the house seemed unchanged from the last time you saw it. It made you feel at home right away and you smiled to yourself. You walked to the kitchen without any hesitation. You were about to open the cupboard to get a glass, when you felt rough arms wrapping around your waist and a knife being pressed against your throat. Your eyes widened and you looked up at your attacker.

“Uncle Vincent?” you whispered out and the man instantly let you go. You had recognised him right away thanks to his mask and his still long and dark hair. It really felt like you had never left Ambrose and it was nice. You turned around to face him. Vincent had let go of his knife and his hands were now on your face, softly trying to memorise all of your features.

Y/N? Is that really you? What are you doing here? He signed, hoping you still remembered the sign language. You actually took classes after you left Ambrose because you wanted to remember and improve yourself. You smiled.

“I ran away from mom, I wanted to be back home” you replied “Is dad here?” you asked before noticing the blood on Vincent’s clothes. You came closer while frowning in concern “Are you hurt, uncle?” you asked again. Vincent didn’t have the time to answer that Bo busted into the house, covered in blood as well.

“There’s a fuckin’ car…” Bo started before stopping when he saw you.

“Oh yeah, it’s mom’s… Hi, father” you smiled. Bo didn’t move at first, he couldn’t process what was going on. But soon enough, you were in his arms and he was tightly holding you against him. He thought he was going to cry with pure happiness. His baby was finally back home. Life could finally go on and be joyful. He could finally feel whole once again.

It was how Bo always imagined it. 

He always thought that one day you would come back and you would learn about the killing, but you would support it. You would come living again in Ambrose and everything would have been happy once again, like it should have been from the beginning.

But it never happened. 

Because the day you finally arrived in Ambrose, the House of Wax was melted to the ground because of a big fire, and both your father Bo and uncle Vincent were dead. You knew it because you didn’t find anyone in the house you grew up in or in the garage or in the church. Ambrose was truly empty and you couldn’t imagine your family leaving. 

Lester found you the second day as you were crying in front of what was left of the House of Wax. He didn’t recognise you, of course, but he guessed who you were, because no one had any reason to cry here other than you. You jumped when he placed a hand on your shoulder before turning to him. You gasped his name before getting up and tightly hugging him. You were so happy one of them was still there. You asked him what happened and he told you everything.

And he told you how happy Bo would have been to know you were finally back home, because the man had never stopped thinking about you one second in his whole existence. You wished you hadn’t arrived too late. You wished he would have known that his daughter was finally home. You wished your mother never kidnapped you from Ambrose and your family. You hated her so much.

But it was nothing in comparison to what you felt against the two people who did this to your family. You promised yourself you were going to find them and give them the most painful of death. You also promised yourself you were going to rebuild the House of Wax, so Bo and Vincent could be proud of you, because you knew it was what they would have wanted. 

You also knew they were going to be your first statues of wax. Lester had kept the bodies because he hadn’t wanted to leave them there for the cops to find. And he hadn’t had the strength to bury them yet. You asked him to keep looking over the bodies for a couple of days more and then you would take care of them. You just needed to kill those people first so you could focus on your art, your mind at peace. 

You were so excited to see your dad again and to chat with him like if you hadn’t left the house for ten years, like if he wasn’t dead inside the wax, like if you weren’t insane.

And Lester was so grateful he wasn't going to be alone in this.

---

Taglist : @bloodmoon-bites ; @kawaistrawberry21

[vintagerpg]

Children of the Night: The Created (1999) is one of the very last Ravenloft books, so late in the line’s life that it barely even has the logo on the cover. By this time, Wizards of the Coast was essentially shutting down TSR in preparation for the new 3E era. You can feel a lot of that 3E energy in this book. I mentioned on Monday that, to me, 3E excelled at finding ways to combine old concepts in new and exciting ways. That is very much on display here.

Here we have a clockwork man, a creepy wax work golem that recalls Vincent Price’s House of Wax (literally: that’s the name of the golem’s wax museum), a stained glass golem with personality, a golem made out of coins and more. My favorite is actually the cover golem, Azenwrath, a spell-rune construct made of sticks, paper and arcane symbols. It was once an evil treant that was killed, felled and turned into a number of wood-based products that retained fragments of its original personality and, gradually, came back together and reformed, not into a treant, but an insane eidolon forever searching for more pieces of itself. The adventure connected to it is very good, a nice bit of atmosphere whose solution nicely subverts D&D standards. The Lockwood cover is prettttty great. I like Kevin McCann’s work here as well — he seems to have developed quite a bit in the year since Werebeasts.

[world0fmadness]

KINKY BUSINESS

bård “ faust ” eithun x reader | vegard “ ihsahn ” tveitan x reader | tomas “ samoth ” haugen x reader

♡ nsfw headcanons for some kinks i think faust, ihsahn and samoth would have!

୨୧ i love these men so much wowww! writing this for me and like, the one other person who wants this lolol

♡ related hc available here and here | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: the chosen ones by massemord - temptation and pleasure by anal vomit

* 18 + content, please do not read if you’re a minor *

BÅRD “ FAUST ” EITHUN

knifeplay

♡ faust is DEFINITELY one of the more gentle members of emperor but that doesn’t mean he’s innocent, not at all… it just means he’s careful with his kinks and how rough he gets

୨୧ he likes holding his pocket knife up to your jugular whilst fucking you from behind, holding his thumb under the blade so it doesn’t actually have a chance of cutting you

threesomes

♡ these mostly happen with ihsahn! that’s who he’s closest to and who he feels would be able to treat you almost as well as he does

୨୧ a lot of the time they take place after concerts, the three of you going back to your and faust’s shared apartment and it just kind of happens… usually spurred on by you and faust sloppily making out and getting handsy in front of ihsahn, you feeling bad, asking if he wants to join and him never refusing ( are you crazy? he’d be insane to say no to you )

♡ they either spit roast you or do double penetration with you riding faust and ihsahn thrusting into you from behind, holding your neck and tilting your head back to shove his tongue into your mouth whilst faust is a mess under you <3

filming

♡ well, we all know how much he loves horror movies right? so why not make his own movie with you? even if it’s definitely not horror…

୨୧ he has a handheld camera that he either holds in one of his hands whilst fucking you or props up somewhere in the room to capture both of you… or sometimes the three of you because he definitely wants to watch some of those threesomes with ihsahn back! he loves when you look directly into the camera lens, your pupils blown out and a fucked out look in your eyes

♡ he labels the vhs tapes with a marker, usually titling the sextapes some really corny porn mock of his favourite horror movies… he thinks it’s funny <3

VEGARD “ IHSAHN ” TVEITAN

waxplay

♡ ihsahn is extremely similar to faust in the way that he’s gentle but very kinky!

୨୧ he loves lighting a candle and slowly fucking you whilst waiting for it to melt a substantial amount of wax… when there’s enough wax collected in the top, he’ll stop thrusting ( much to your displeasure ) and lean over you to grab the candle from your bedside

♡ he pours it at a snails pace for the first couple of drips, wanting to ease you into the heat and gets progressively more generous with the drips as time goes by, resuming his thrusts at a quicker pace, admiring the way your mouth drops open with pained yet pleasured moans as the candle wax delivers burn after burn to your stomach and upper chest

breeding

♡ if any of the emperor members were going to have a breeding kink, i just know it would be ihsahn…

୨୧ he can actually see himself settling down with you in the future, living in a house and having a real family

♡ obviously he doesn’t want a kid right now, hell no, but sometimes when you’re having sex it just kind of comes over him! he gets really primal and realises there’s no stronger way to lay claim than putting his kid inside of you! and god, he thinks you’d look so beautiful whilst pregnant, carrying his kid, your shared friend group having to watch as you grow his kid knowing they’ve always wanted a shot with you and now they have no chance… it just really gets him going

period sex

♡ he LOVES fucking you on your period, so so so much…

୨୧ not only does he get to take away some of your pain ( orgasms taking away period pain is the greatest gift i’ve ever received in my life ) but he gets to see his cock completely coated in your warm, crimson red blood as he thrusts in and out of your cunt <3

♡ the sight is enough to keep him hard for SO long even after he’s came multiple times so you usually go for a lot of rounds when you’re on your period, at least until you get sensitive and physically can’t handle anymore… if he’s still hard when this happens you usually just suck him off

TOMAS “ SAMOTH ” HAUGEN

gunplay

♡ i mean, we’ve all seen that picture of him with the revolver, right? i just know he LOVES gunplay…

୨୧ he’d take so much pleasure in teasing you with it! slowly dragging the cold steel barrel across your nipples, down your stomach and dipping the tip just under the hem of your underwear

♡ he likes having his finger on the trigger too, even though there’s no bullets inside the revolver it still gives you both a thrill seeing his finger placed on it… he loves fucking you with the barrel too, sliding it in and out of you, watching as it gets covered in your wetness, making the steel shine as you writhe and moan

bondage

♡ i feel like this goes one for all of the members but in different ways!

୨୧ samoth is definitely the roughest and most dominant member, he ties you up to restrict you, to have power over you, he couldn’t care less if you’re getting rope burn as he roughly thrusts into you slowly yet so hard… he’ll only care about it if you use your safe word or during aftercare

♡ he doesn’t just do the casual tie your hands to the bed frame bondage either, he loves the full body bondage stuff like hogties, the kind of bondage that will really keep you restricted and at his mercy <3

public sex

♡ i feel like he’s also the most confident and unafraid member of emperor, the one that cares the absolute least about consequences…

୨୧ he especially likes fucking you in cemeteries, wether it’s during the day or night, he doesn’t really care, he’ll take you on top of a grave anytime… you guys don’t get fully undressed though, usually it’s just him unbuttoning his leather pants, pulling them down just enough to slip his cock out and you lifting your skirt, pulling off your underwear ( the rare times you actually wear them anyways, he prefers easy access at all times ) and handing them to him for him to pocket!

♡ to any people passing by, at first it might just look like two people in a heated make out session with him on top of you but if they look for a minute longer and really listen, they’d see his hips jutting, the way your heels dig into his back and your shared breathy moans <3

[occasionaloneshots]

Okay so when I'm working on a long fic and I don't have time to get into it but i get an idea (like at work or things of that nature) I have a bad habit of adding it in the most confusing way but the least amount of words I can to a section of my outline titled "Notes app shit" and it helps me remember but is actually insane and makes zero sense to it's actual context to anyone else.

Anyway, here's the top hits that helped me make my outline for the Monty Foster Mom who was a dog fic (it has a title but idk if I wanna keep it, and I'm annoying and want to have it done so I just have to edit as I post it, it will come out eventually) If you don’t know my blog, it's referring to this post (Also trigger warning for abuse and gore mentions)

Monty candle panic (vague mentions that TCK fucks with wax play I fucking guess?)

Magic collar fuck shit

“Baby come on, I know I sold your soul to make you semi-immortal but look at how charming I am. Why would you want me to have to spend 7 lives without you?” Immediately loses a life

“From Mama’s toy to Momma’s boy. What a sad husband you’d make”

“I am so irrevocably in love with you, my sun rises for you. You could beat me to my last life and in my weakest state I’d still curl up in your arms just to feel your love” “you were literally trying to fuck that ghost last month” “okay and? This isn’t about that”

I don’t want your boy, please come get him. He’s reeking up my store with all his internalized hatred

“You’re exhausting. You’re all teenage petulance until she comes around then suddenly you’re all ‘Mommy let me read you your birth chart and can you play with my hair’ like a toddler showing her a painting. No wonder you don’t have friends your age.”

Monty breaks a cup, literally prepares to die

“You’re laughing? I tell you that both of your mothers beat me to death and you’re laughing?” “Well, did you deserve it?” “Only the first time, I ate that shit the second time”

Not close, not enemies, some secret third thing (Lots of respect but no love) 

they’re family, they’re lovers, they’re enemies, they’re everything and nothing all at once “I’m not the step-dad, I’m the dad who stepped up” “You’re neither actually” 

Siblings who hate each other but would jump in front of a bus for each other. One time his ass brought her a glass of ice and told her to wait for it when she asked for water.

“There’s a bird boy in my house and idk where the cannibalism line is there”

I can forgive her for what she did to me, but with how fucked up he is? If that witch was still here I’d use her entrails as a jump rope 

Drags Monty bird to the store, he has a thing for sunflower seeds which she finds very cute

 Seneca scented mother fucker stinking her place up with his smell and his vibes, god damn (This one was personal due to a man at work's whole damn aura smelling like a seneca)

Yeah I have an ex who did some major supernatural fuck shit to me too

TCK saves her from a creepy customer by pretending to be her man, he instantly becomes the creepy customer

Shout out cat king magic, less of a shout out to those bloody teeth marks in her shoulder

Anyway, to the few people who said they wanted it, it'll be here eventually. IDK starting it is really hard when the idea stemmed from a scene from chapters 2, 3, 6, and 8 I'm working very sporadically rn

[chainmailchalamet]

Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽)

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), slight predator/prey dynamic (more tags in the next part when it gets more NSFW), but expect a lil degradation, impact, knives, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

roommate!eddie munson who puts you on edge from the moment you come across him — responding to a post on a queer housing page on facebook because you get a new job that pays enough to move out your ex’s place but you still need a roommate and something about his post is just…appealing. this self-proclaimed “bisexual metalhead chef” whose love language is homemade omelettes, who waxes poetic about maintaining a harmonious home, who bakes when he’s stressed and has a black cat named cerberus (“he’s not really mine, he just likes to curl up at the foot of my bed on the weekends like i’m his little side-piece, so you know…basically mine”), and just desperately wants to live with someone who is clean and sweet and will play taste-test with him when he experiments with new recipes.

and that sounds fucking nice, ok? especially after your previous situation where you did all the cleaning and cooking and emotional labour and got cheated on for all your trouble.

and yeah, ok, maybe eddie is kind of cute in every single picture he puts up with his post — with his dark hair and dark eyes shining bright and mischievous tucked into the fur of a serious looking black cat, and his ringed hands (big, and strong-looking, and tatted up) with a guitar clutched expertly between them and his chains and his fucking tongue between his teeth when he smiles this big, dumb, razor-sharp smile even while covered in flour and wielding a tray full of mini peach galette’s. maybe he’s kind of exactly your type on paper — good in the kitchen, queer as fuck and proud of it, sharp teeth, dark eyes….

it’s not until the day you meet him in person that you start to get a little bit antsy, a little too-small in your skin. because he looks better than his pictures, which is wild. he’s got just a hint of stubble, pretty eyelashes, so much silver glinting in his ears and all through his face and a blackout tattoo that crawls up his back and some ink crawling up the side of his face a little too and god damn it, it suits him — all his ink and silver and his long curly hair half tied up in a sloppy bun. he’s so much taller in person too, so much bigger than you, and it’s kind of funny cuz he doesn’t seem like he should be so big and broad in the shoulders because he’s a fucking metalhead kitchen nerd, but — his white t-shirt stretches so nice across his chest that it’s a little bit obscene and a little bit see through so you clock just a hint of the tattoos that he must just be covered in tip to toe and he smells like tobacco and jasmine, smells so good he kind of makes your mouth water — which is just like, so fucking rude.

and maybe you’d be able to deal with all of that if he was as much as an asshole as he kind of looked — but he’s not, he opens the door to you and his eyes light up, and he’s all bright and chatty and welcoming, asking if he can hug you or shake your hand or whatever you want, i’m just super tactile, here let me take your coat, woah your hair is so fucking cool, your braids are just gorgeous, kind of like zoë kravitz in high fidelity — oh shit, yeah, totally see the vision, and you did that yourself, that’s insane, you’re so talented.

and he keeps a clean apartment , a big beautiful apartment that smells of jasmine incense and bakery — kitchen nice and organized, cast iron skillets displayed proudly on the wall, a well-stocked fridge lovingly adorned with Polaroids and magnets, and he’s all like you can use anything you want, and if you need me to pick anything just put in on the list, i got a good plug for grocery stuff, yeah, totally it’s all cool, just picked up like, so many beets for like nothing, we’re gonna be swimming in beet juice for a week.

and the living room is so comfy, big soft leather couch smothered in blankets and an electric fireplace, and a glass coffee table covered in cookbooks and a bookshelf bursting with life, and you can just see yourself lounging here, laying on your front in the plush carpet in the flow of the fireplace while he tinkers in the kitchen. and your bedroom is huge too — wood floors, high ceilings, enough space for a king bed and your clothing rack and mannequins and maybe even some room to do yoga and to tuck your sewing set-up into the corner while you watch the skyline stretch green and gorgeous ahead of you.

and the bathroom is so clean you could eat off the floors, which is crazy — there is eucalyptus hanging in the shower. the bath mat is shaped like a cherry. you almost go light-headed.

it’s all so perfect, and it sets you on edge because you know there’s trouble brewing. you know you’re going to move into this big beautiful apartment and settle right in, that you’re going to wake up every morning relieved and grateful and comfortable. that you’re going to be well-fed and so, so much happier than what you came from.

it’s all so perfect — except for eddie. eddie, who is whip-smart and a pleasure to be around, who is accommodating and a great listener, who is so sweet and sensitive when you tell him the real reason you left your old place, who is all oh, man, i’m so sorry, what a fucking prick, can’t believe he did that to you — didn’t deserve you at all, so glad you chose yourself, if you need any space just let me know, if you need anything at all, just let me know, ok?

eddie, who is so perfect that he almost has you fooled. almost — because he’s good at playing sweet and sensitive, and he’s good at playing with the expectations that people may have about what he’s going to act like based on what he looks like. he’s good at subverting — but you’re good at reading between the lines, and noticing things about people that they don’t think anyone else can see — call it a trauma response, or some kind of innate intuition, or both. it’s how you knew that your ex had been cheating on you months before you got your shit together and decided to do something about it — it’s how you could see through every single lie, even when he was lying for so long that he started to believe it himself. it’s your little superpower.

and eddie is not immune to that, no matter how good he is at wearing the skin that he shows to other people — you see the shift, the split second where he can’t hide that look in his eyes, that tick in his jaw. it’s just a split second, but you catch it, feeling his eyes on you when you look through all the pictures pinned to the fridge (eddie playing with his band, bathed in pink neon lights, eddie in his work-whites, eddie making silly faces with bowls of spaghetti smothered in grated cheese, eddie dressed down in just his sweatpants and sleep mussed hair, flipping a lazy bird at the camera, ink all down his chest and across both arms, inked all the way down to his hips in his low-slung sweats…). his gaze makes the back of your neck warm up, and you feel, syrupy slow, the way his eyes travel all the way down your body and back up, as heavy as a physical touch brushing across your skin. you let him look for a second, and when you turn your head to look back at him, and his eyes snap up to yours, he can’t tuck that glint in his eyes back fast enough.

you see it, then — the way he looks at you, like he wants to pick the meat from your bones, like he wants to crawl inside you and feel every inch of you within, like he wants to bleed you, suck you dry, make you scream. it is the look of a starving man, of a wolf licking its teeth, of a creature that just spotted something supremely tasty right as it’s ears prick up because it senses danger. it is a look that makes you want to run, just to see how long it will take for him to find you, to know what he’ll do when he does.

and right before he tucks that look back into its hiding place, he catches you catch him, and that split second is what haunts you for days, the moment you realize that you are well and truly fucked — he holds your eyes, tilts his head and does not look even a little bit ashamed to be caught, because whatever he sees on your face, in your eyes, whatever you reveal to him — it makes his pupils dilate, makes his tongue run across his (sharp, sharp, sharp) teeth inside of his mouth, makes him go hm.

and then, just like that, it’s gone. he lights up again, tucks the wolf to bed, leans against the doorway (doesn’t come closer, like he’s trying not to spook you, like you’re a wild rabbit on alert, rabbit heart beating hard in your chest), and tells you the story behind every picture, funny and bright and inviting. like nothing ever happened.

and you know there’s trouble brewing.

[its-monster-mash]

Sinclair Brothers Headcanons - Angst

I’m fresh off of a House of Wax rewatch and I come bearing headcanons

Bo

• Self-Appointed Eldest Brother

• Suffers migraines as a result of the separation surgery, but no one ever considered the side effects Bo may have faced since he wasn’t the twin who was left visibly scarred. This is why he had the meltdowns he did as a kid.

• Taught by his mother that the migraines are a punishment from God for being an awful child.

• Since he grew up being told how awful he was, he has a skewed moral compass because he feels like if he’s Bad no matter what he does he may as well do whatever he wants. In a strange way, he feels good when he does bad things because he feels like he’s doing what’s always been expected of him.

• Fights fights fights. His dad being a “Disgraced Doctor” and his mom going insane(and also having a strange job before that) kids made fun of his family a lot. This, of course, extended to Vincent.

• Beat other kids bloody for picking on Vincent—when he finally got caught, it was the first time he was ever treated like he did something GOOD by his parents; so he learned that being violent was A Good Thing™️ as long as it was to protect the family.

• Didn’t like Vincent going anywhere without him because how could he protect him if he wasn’t there?

• Especially after their parents died and the town started falling apart, Bo felt like it was HIS job to protect his brothers.

• Hurt that Lester doesn’t want to live with them full time; he feels like it’s something personal against him.

• He doesn’t mention Lester when he gives his speeches about ‘The Sinclair Family’ not because he’s got anything against him, but because deep down he knows that someday they’re going to get caught. He knows there’ll be no getting out of it for him and Vincent, but he hopes that the less he implicates Lester the more likely his baby brother is to be spared The Chair.

• Always used to feel like it would be any day that they’d get caught, and he used to want it. Years ago he used to feel like getting caught and having Ambrose make Headlines would be the culmination of their mother’s dream. Now, he’s just tired of it all—it’s a chore—it’s Vincent’s whole life’s work. Bo no longer wants to be caught, he just wants to hold on to what he’s got left.

• Bo is Autistic, but he’s had to do so much masking because nobody cared about his needs. He’s got a lot of rituals he does every day, involving counting all the Wax Sculptures in town, and making sure all the air conditioning is running several times a day for fear that the wax will melt. He thinks he doesn’t have a talent like Vincent does, but he’s actually an incredibly skilled mechanic who can fix just about anything with the barest of supplies. He just never got any praise for it, so it felt like it didn’t count.

• He attends his mother’s Funeral Service every Sunday.

• So much religious trauma. Fervently believes that God is real and he hates him personally for some crime of his birth. This man believes everything his mother ever said. Christian in the “I will fistfight God in the Parking Lot” sense, the “When I die I hope I get the chance to scream at God for being a shitty Father before he sends me to Hell” sense.

• “Why would you make me this way?” Religious Trauma.

Vincent

• “A Pleasure to Have in Class”

• He actually CAN talk, he just doesn’t prefer to because he’s self-conscious about the way he sounds due to his deformity, and also as a result of the childhood trauma of watching Bo be abused—it was safer to be the Quiet Son.

• He’s Autistic, but flew under the radar because most people assume he’s non-verbal due to his deformity. He’s EXTREMELY specific about the kind of material he puts on his body, and he actually prefers the way his clothes feel if they’ve got a film of wax on them.

• Wax is as much a special interest for him as it is a lifeline. His art made his mother “love” him, so he poured his all into it. She made him feel like that was all there was to life for him—now it’s just about all he knows.

• He’s EXTREMELY pretentious about his art and his process—it has to be absolutely PERFECT or he hates it. If he’s interrupted during a bought of creative mania he will sulk for a week. If he’s not good at a new skill IMMEDIATELY he hates it—which is why he cannot cook.

• Very much a “You Wouldn’t Understand” artist. “Nobody gets me.”

• The reason he doesn’t put as much care into HIS mask as he does his sculptures, is because his body heat coupled with the heat from his workshop makes the wax too malleable to hold the fine details well, so he’d just rather not bother. He made a detailed mask based on Bo’s face exactly ONCE, and it pissed him off so badly when he kept losing detail that he destroyed it himself just to have a little peace.

• The detailed mask actually hurt his feelings more than seeing his bare face, because when he first made it it looked “Like he should have”, but it was never perfect because of the way his body heat would soften it.

• Absolutely furious whenever anything happens to his art—doesn’t check as often as Bo does because he once saw a rat crawl out of a hole it chewed in the eye of one of the sculptures, and the resultant smell of the open rot made him vomit on the spot.

• Enjoys killing more than Bo does. He doesn’t really care about hurting people—that part isn’t a thrill for him, but he does prefer strangers to be dead. He’s so used to working with dead bodies that it’s much more peaceful for him if people who AREN’T family just die. Sculpting on a living body is a special Hell reserved for “tourists” who vandalize his art.

• He is well aware of how over-protective Bo is of him. Sometimes it annoys him, but he also knows it’s one of the few ways Bo knows how to show that he cares. Since Bo has always protected him, and survived everything their parents did to him, Vincent sort of sees Bo as indestructible, untouchable, so it’s alarming to see him injured.

• Vincent is genuinely afraid of what would happen if Bo weren’t around—he doesn’t know how to take care of any of the myriad of technical things Bo does, and Vincent knows that without the air conditioning, every creation he’s ever made will melt in the Louisiana heat.

• Vincent is an atheist. He tolerates Bo’s God Talk because he’s aware that God was a weapon used against Bo as a child for being the “Bad Son”. He knows Bo is trying to be comforting when he quotes their mother, so he doesn’t throw it in his face. Can’t believe in a God who would allow them to do the things they do to people. “The only God in Ambrose is Me”.

Lester

• The Forgotten Youngest Child.

• Being the brother who isn’t a twin—having no deformity and lacking Bo’s behavioral issues, Lester was forgotten and neglected a lot as a child—to the point where he’d just go wander off into the woods alone so at least he wouldn’t have to watch his parents ignore him. With the added benefit of not having to hear Bo’s outbursts.

• Really good at building traps, and ate a lot of squirrels when he was growing up, because Trudy and Vincent would sometimes forget to feed him. Really kind of raised himself.

• Came to terms with the abuse and neglect he and his brothers suffered much more fully after their parents passed—he never really felt very attached to his parents, so he didn’t feel the need to carry out Trudy’s dream.

• The most Aware™️ that the killing his family does is wrong, hence his speech about how easy it is to “Get Used To” all kinds of things. It’s just the life Trudy raised them into. He thinks it’s sad that his brothers are still perpetuating her goals, but what can ya do? They’re his brothers.

• He doesn’t spend a lot of time in the Sinclair home—preferring his little place in the woods—because there’s a lot of bad memories in that house and he doesn’t believe in letting himself fester in the past.

• Still visits every couple of weeks when he does his laundry—usually Bo gets takeout when he knows Lester’s coming up so they can have a family meal. Lester actually prefers his own hunted/foraged cooking, but he enjoys getting to actually have some family time with his brothers, so he chokes down what’s usually fast food, because he knows Bo’s trying.

• He doesn’t actually participate in the killings, but he is the one that rigged the animatronics in Ambrose—he’s actually a hell of an engineer, though he’s never been to school for it.

• The animatronic puppies are his favorite, and he modeled them after Jonesy.

• He’s actually pretty well adjusted, all things considered. He’s just happily living his life in the woods—he does wish things were different for his brothers, but he knows they’re in too deep now, so he just looks out for them as best he can.

• He guts the cellphones of his brothers’ victims both to disable any tracking functions and to use the parts for his animatronics.

[thesolemnhour]

A slightly modified version of inspirations for my most prolific and neurotic brainchild! Reasoning under the cut:

Alase Brinz-Widowknife from Lost Kingdoms and King of Chaos.

I've waxed poetic plenty on how much I adore Wesley's interpretation of Old Sarkoris in Lost Kingdoms, but his present-day Sarkorian characters are just as definitive to me. Alase is a young woman who practices the old art of Godcalling, where Sarkorian summoners call on the ancient protectors of their communities. One of the last Sarkorian Godcallers in the last Sarkorian village still standing. Alase feels a deep desire to do something with her abilities and dreams of taking back to city of Undarin, where Clan Widowknife used to reside. Alase also wonders whether her eidolon Tonbarse truly has a touch of the divine or is simply a loyal companion.

This meditation on what it means to be a Sarkorian one hundred years after the Worldwound opened was so foundational to Agria's character that I named her mother after Alase and decided to make her family another branch of Clan Widowknife.

Aerith Gainsborough, from Final Fantasy 7 (remake).

When I was still trying to nail down Agria's voice, my trick was to imagine all of her dialogue as though Aerith were saying them. Aerith has this delightful combination of sweetness and forcefulness. She's a very nice girl, and you're going to do what she asks! Possibly my favorite line in the game is when she and Cloud are halfway through a plan to sneak into a mobster's house, and she's telling him the last thing he needs to do. Cloud is like, "Hold on a minute," and she says, "No can-do, Cloud. This is our plan, and you'll learn to love it!" I'll take "Things Agria has said to Woljif," for $100, Alex.

Emma Woodhouse from Austen's Emma.

When Jane Austen set herself to writing Emma, she wanted to create "a heroine no one but me will much like." Emma is often selfish, unkind, and thoughtless, but she also cares deeply about the people around her and is willing to change her mind to accommodate them. Agria, likewise, can be a bit too attached to her own way of thinking to consider anyone else's, and it's Emma I look to most when I think about the ways that Woljif forces her to consider other perspectives.

Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender.

A little bit like Emma, it's Katara's best and worst traits that make her such an influence on Agria. Katara is equally as capable of being kind, curious, and passionate as she is of being controlling and emotional. She can carry grudges and be competitive. Agria is many of these things as well, and the combination of these traits is what always brings me back to her

Kitri, from Don Quixote.

Kitri, my love! From her very first entrance to the ballet, Kitri effortlessly commands the attention of those around her. After every movement, it's like she turns to the audience to say, "Ta-DA!" She is fiery and joyful and alive! She has enormous spirit and insists on having things her way. She's a bit of a brat (affectionate). She is who I look to when I want to represent Agria being a drama queen.

Evgenia Medvedeva, Russian figure skater and Olympic silver medalist.

There is a kind of insanity at the heart of athletes that I'm obsessed with. A sense that if you just push yourself hard enough, you will accomplish everything you want. Evgenia Medvedeva has so much of this, and I am convinced she is the most intense person who has every lived. "As soon as you take it easy," she explained in one documentary, "you get nowhere. You're the same as everyone else." Are you sure about that, two-time world champion, Evgenia Medvedeva?? But it's never enough. That's Agria!

Template:

[kaaaaaaarf]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

<333333333 hi

CLAUDE!! <333 Hi friend! Thank you for coming into my ask box and cleansing it from the insanity of yesterday night.

Okay, this was hard to do, but these are five of my favourites:

The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) - Rated M. My unhinged murder husbands. They are so, so dear to me! Remus being a little psycho is really important, actually.

Remus becomes the most prolific serial killer in modern history because Sirius is a slut and won’t stop getting engaged.

back when we were dinosaurs - Rated E. These fluffy, dino obsessed boys are extremely personal. I also love that it's Canadian! So rare to find in fics. You don't need to know Toronto to enjoy it, but it adds an extra layer if you do!

Remus is the ROM’s newest curator of the paleontological wing. Sirius manages the gift shop and has a dinosaur obsession. They are cute little nerds together and sometimes they have sex in the archives

Only Get (My Rocks) Off - Rated E. What can I say, HOA violations as foreplay is something that can be so personal.

They say that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. Every time Remus has to listen to his neighbour’s fucking drainpipe clink against the side of the house, Remus gets a migraine and a hard-on.

touching me (touching you) - Rated E. I know that I just wrote this, but honestly it's my favourite installment of the Hatefuck series. These boys have become so important to me.

“Right, and what’s with the socks?” Remus holds them in front of him with a frown, like they personally offended him. “I figured you could branch out. If you insist on wearing socks with your boat shoes, they may as well show some personality, since you clearly don’t have one.” “Did you have to get me a pair that says Don’t Bully Me I’ll Cum in bright, rainbow lettering?” “…yes, obviously? Isn’t that your motto?”

In ár gCroíthe go deo - Rated T. I have so many short wee stories, but this one is a fav. This started out as a way to wax poetic about Remus with a red beard, and turned into a meditation on the meaning of home, and what it means to long for a place that lives in your bones. Enter: Irish Remus.

Remus hadn’t been home for a long time, and never with Sirius. He had missed muggle Ireland— nowhere else in the world filled his heart and soul in the same way. Even Sirius with his easy smiles, warm heart and boisterous laughs couldn't quite manage to fill this particular void.

[ccscocoapuffs]

Dorian Gray NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Dorian can be very sweet after sex, though this usually applies if you are in a serious relationship with him. He would get you a towel clean you up, kiss you, and get you a drink while he goes to put on some music before he gets back in bed with you for some much needed cuddles. He likes to pull you against his chest and gently stroke your hair while you drift asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Dorian loves every damn thing about himself. Asking him to pick a favorite is like asking someone if that wanna live or die to him. He adores himself and loves every part that comes with him. H loves his partners eyes the most because he believes it's the closest you'll get to seeing someone's soul. He adores the loving gaze you give him throughout the day with your striking eyes. He definitely would have a painting done of your eyes to hang on his walls

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Cumming to him is the greatest feeling in the world, he adores the sight of his cum all along your skin as well as on your face. He doesn't really like to cum inside you mostly for the fact he DOES NOT want a kid. This man is not father material, daddy maybe but not father.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Does the painting count? you know the one. If you two become insanely close he would show you the portrait and depending on your reaction to it he may sit down in the chair he has in the room and let you ride him right there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He has more experience than anyone I can think of the man fucks alot. He knows what he is doing no matter gender or to be completely honest species, he has fucked a werewolf before. {*cough* Ethan *cough*)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Dorian likes intimacy, he likes being able to see your face, whether it be simple missionary or something more complex, he wants to gaze into your eyes as he gives you your orgasm. He wants to watch how your eyes glimmer with pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 100% serious, he is a well composed gentleman...most of the time and wants to be the same in the bedroom with you. He likes to keep the romantic feeling going at all times and doesn't want goofing off to ruin that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I feel like he definitely waxes or keeps it shaved down to almost bare. He likes the feeling of being groomed to perfection in his own eyes and keeping things this way also allows for the preference of partners to not really be a major issue (some people don't always like hair down there on a partner).

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Very Very Romantic, he loves to absolutely woo you before he takes you to bed. He will not only shower you in the softest kisses and touches but also gifts and trinkets. When he gets you in his bedroom that same romance doesn't end he gives you the most mind blowing night of your life.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He just doesn't he prefers the feeling of a person to his hand, whether it be you or someone at his various orgies he holds he just prefers the feeling of being intimate with someone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Knife play blood kink wax kink very light choking voyeurism (Likes to watch or be watched during sex)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) His home, he feels the most himself there and adores the fact of what happens in that house stays in that house. He said it best himself "In this house we celebrate the unique".

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) He likes a someone with confidence and elegance. Be outgoing towards him, walk up to him and introduce yourself first, carry yourself with elegance and grace and you'll surely catch his eye.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Finding something he'd say no to is probably the hardest thing you'd ever have to do. I do feel as though if you were in a serious relationship with hi, he'd have a hard time sharing you with someone outside of his comfort zone. Like he is familiar with he people at his orgies, Vanessa, Ethan, they all are people he is more than willing to share with yet someone unfamiliar he would have a harder time trusting when it comes to touching his most cherished possession if that makes sense.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) I think he likes receiving more that giving, though he adores giving as well, there is just something about seeing you worship his cock with your mouth that makes him have the most primal feeling.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) He is whatever you want him to be. I do feel like he prefers a slow and rough time, like very slow and soft yet theres biting, knife play, and maybe even a little choking. All of his favorite thigs <3

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He adores a quickie as if it were exactly the same as being able to take his time with you. Sex is sex to this man and he isn't gonna turn down any opportunity.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He loves experimenting with you and finds it apart of the very sexually free lifestyle that he loves to live. He would love to introduce you to some of the things he loves and has found from experimenting along the way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Dorian can usually go about 2 rounds, he has a very sensitive cock and if you pleasure him the right way then he can cum fairly quickly for you. This is also why at many of the orgies he prefers to watch a little bit before engaging in anything because he knows how sensitive he can be.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) If you go based on time period he probably wouldn't have them but if you wanna go just strictly based on Dorian and if they were accessible, he would have hundred's. He would adore dildos and cock rings the most i feel like.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He definitely likes to tease, he loves to walk up behind you, wrap his arms around you waist and softly start to kiss right under your ear. He loves to whisper in your ear while he does it "Does that feel good, my lady? Perhaps you might let me kiss you somewhere that will feel even better?".

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) More on the quiet side but still lets out a few breathy moans as well as some adorable little whines and whimpers when he gets close.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Would adore the idea of having a threesome with either you, him, and Ethan or you, Him, and Vanessa. if it's vanessa he wants you two to dom him for sure, as for Ethan I think he'd wanna watch you two and see you get fucked by a man so much bigger than him and see how you fall apart before he comes over to you and fucks you both.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Dorian is about 6 1/2 inches with a medium girth. He has a pretty pinkish flush to the tip of his cock that looks so fucking beautiful when it leaks precum.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Very High, he loves sex and isn't at all embarrassed to say how much he craves it everyday.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He usually stays up for a long time afterwards, if you wanna fall asleep on him then he will lay right there and play with your hair while you rest so peacefully.

[furious-mango]

Uh, um… well… Alice Human Sacrifice [for science]

note: I dont know how the F this machine works, it's just a piece of questionable art

Imagine Myron as The White Rabbit. Yep, with big rabbit ears sticking out from under his classy cylinder. Beautiful. Love him so much. But lets get back to that damned song! (source of my childhood nightmares)

from here you'll see a combination of ыумукфд several english lyrics and direct translation from japanese. also i added some features from russian version of this song because:

I can

It's just good and carries different meanings and some kind of куаукутсуы references/ easter eggs

also i just realised that russian version is way more dark and creepy…

okay. after total decomposition it isn't a song anymore. just peaces of lyrics with my plot notes. sounds like bullshit but okay

Let's go!~

The First Alice went to the Land of Wonders She stood bravely before all dangers And left a bright red path [yeah, now the Devil's Acre is The Wonderland] This girl had some sort of destructive peculiarity (something that badly hurts people around her). Defending herself she killed a lot (accidentally at first) even if it wasn’t necessary.

Then Alice strayed too far Lost within the woods Giving in to all her sins Locking her away for good

Finally she ended up meeting Myron. He saw her power and thought “why don’t we try to use this energy as a battery for Panloopticon?”

Still her life remains a mystery 'till this very day If it weren't for the bloody trail, everything would be peacefulAs if she had never existed

Her red bloody path ends at the doors of iron cabin in the basement of Bentham’s House. [Actually, I think that didn’t worked so… we continue]

Second Alice was a tame And tender gentle man Singing songs to all the folks Who lived in Wonderland Whenever he would sing People gathered round

A talented singer became the second Alice. Enchanting people with his voice he could control them.

But his story had a sad ending: He was robbed of everything by a bullet. He blooms a single bright flower and withers away, loved by everyone.

Aand he was kidnapped. Of course, the bullet was with Dust, so very soon he has taken his place in the wax figures collection of the Bentham’s Museum.

It left a flower blooming sadly And those who loved him soon began to die go insane.

[That’s cruel but I think his peculiarity was evoking obsessive love with voice]

The third girl was fragile and innocent And no one believed that her words were a deceit

She sees future in her dreams and it scares her so she lies about them to avoid frightening people.

Lost within a crazy dream So afraid of death the girl Was mindless and warped

Nightmares about death and distortion haunt her (perhaps she foresaw emergence of hollowgasts or… who knows…). She’s the one who agreed to fell asleep using Dust, but never knew how long would that dreamless dream be…

Scarlet paths through the woods. Under a bush of blue roses the two will have tea. And afterward there'll be a ball at the palace. The Ace of Hearts is our ticket.

Here the plan seems to be clearer. Myron invited them personally.

Fourth Alice were a twins Wandering across the world They passed through many doors

[wait… is this a real Panloopticon reference???] Curious of this new place They traveled and explored The stubborn older sister The clever younger brother

Peculiarity of this twins is their bond. Actually they aren’t siblings. Thet are both one creature (like reflection in the mirror)

Were close to see the nature Of the true Alice at hand

They saw something they weren't supposed to see. And so…

Those poor children will never wake up from their sleep, Wonderland is waiting for the fifth Alice…

that last line scared me so much when I was a kid...

its 2am and i totally forgot what was the point of this song analysis. let's just think about that like it's AU where Myron has rabbit ears 'cause its so cute

[disneyanddisneyships]

13. Who had the most positive impact on your character’s life?

Okay. All ur hellaverse ocs

Aella:

Her kid. Oh my goodness when that kid came into the world all her worries seemed to just melt away like wax. Her son is definitely a mama's boy, and he will always be by her side. He'd never tell her this but he hates going to his dad's house.

Aponi:

In her life? Her little brother. Think of "we know better" from frozen And you have her thoughts on him right there. They're best friends and she loves him with all her might. In hell? Angel dust. He reminds her of her brother, and she feels genuinely loved when they talk to one another.

Becca:

Blitz. She remembers more than she'd like to remember about her bio parents,, but when blitz adopted her, it made her feel wanted and loved,, more than she had ever felt..

Cordelia:

believe it or not, Chaz made her life better.. she learned to let lose more, and he makes her feel wanted everything he tells her how gorgeous and sexy she is.

Furcalor:

A close second to the actual reason would be killing men. But the real reason is stolas. He's her best friend, her cousin. He's practically her brother and she grew up with him. He even snuck her out one night to go drinking when her father was bringing back (male) suitors for her to choose between.

Linda "Bunny" Davis:

In life, when she didn't go crazy.... the little family she had made her happy... she liked watching her husband and infant daughter interact with one another..... until that faithful day, and the thing that happened that made her go insane. In death, she isn't happy.

Roxxie:

after getting out of Valentino's clutches, Verosika became her basis of moral support. She was happiest when doing what she loved with the person she loved.. even though she doesn't know she loves her.

[unalloyeddivinity]

Regarding Outer Gods

{{I don't take the interpretation common in the fandom that Miquella hates all the Outer Gods, even if he can ward some of their influences somehow. (Though I think it's more like 'He wards them away via the influence of another Outer God' because of the cosmic scale power issue.)

NGL, I low-key hate how a lot of stuff (not just Elden Ring's fandom) fundamentally misunderstands the concept of Outer Gods.

Ultimately, that characterization feels more fitting for Ranni, for one thing. Her whole thing is that she did everything she did because of her own personal gain (to be independent, period), and nothing else, without regard to the impact on others. The ramifications of her ending aren't great, even with the issue surrounding the translation accounted for, IMO.

Even then, Ranni still seems to follow one tied to the moon/the dark moon, so this isn't wholly the case for her, either. She isn't plucking all the cosmic gods away because she simply doesn't have that power, even with the Elden Ring.

Something I find annoying is a common problem with interpretation of cosmic gods in stories. It's something common in most post-Lovecraft Mythos and adjacent works, and something that's notably absent in Bloodborne (which is why Bloodborne is one of the best post-Lovecraft stories in that vein).

They take beings which are supposed to be ancient weird alien gods, and turn them into Discount Satan With Tentacles (tm). Now, Lovecraft himself sometimes did this (The Dreams in the Witch House and The Haunter in the Dark springs to mind), and those are his weaker Mythos works. A lot of his antagonistic forces are individual people who got insane power and got drunk off of what they could do with it. While you could say those people are evil, the deities are actually neutral and seem to just let whoever can access power be able to. And there are more neutral factions, too, such as how the story in The Whisperer in Darkness has an obvious alternate reading with the Mi-Go.

So, my interpretation of Elden Ring's story leans more into that aspect. Ultimately, the larger scale beings aren't innately malevolent. They have their own focuses and are aligned through their aspects. They're also tied to the underlying reality of existence, with a sort of interdependence between mortals and them in a polytheistic sense. So the power of given gods waxes and wanes based on mortals' actions, much like how the Greater Will holds power through the Elden Beast as vassal, then through Marika and how this pushed out various other gods.

The Frenzied Flame and the Greater Will might be easiest to argue as being outright evil, but this isn't quite right, either. One could instead argue that the Flame is more like an unacknowledged, unhealed raw agony that pushes people to desperate lashing out to stop the pain. (This is also why I don't think the Frenzied Flame ending can actually do anything but burn the Erdtree and Leyndell down. It's ultimately self-defeating.) The Greater Will is functionally the neutral concept of Order. But because Marika's Golden Order was based around genocide and imperialism and the rejection of so much of what exists, the Order being reinforced is awful.

And you can't exactly remove a whole aspect of reality to begin with. Because Outer Gods in a setting are fundamentally an aspect of reality. And, like, the whole point of the game is that the removal of Death (which is also tied to an Outer God) actively fucked up the world.

And, given all the weird shit going on in the background with Miquella and blood, the idea I'm playing with is that he would already have been tied to the Formless Mother, even without Mohg's blood rituals. Much like how Malenia is already tied to the Scarlet Rot.}}