#he would spit the black stuff that poisonous

[melodygatesauthor]

Let Your Fingers Do the Talking

Jake Lockley X Villain Reader

Not Beta Read - Requested By @lunalockley

Kinks - Finger Fucking + Enemies to Lovers (I know E2L isn't a kink but that's what the generator came up with so here we are)

Summary

You're a lesser known villain who got "caught" by the infamous Moon Knight. Your specialty is a toxic violet gas that makes your victim obey your every command. How will Jake Lockley respond when he's not the one in control? - Sort of a prequel to a mini-series I have loosely planned for the far future.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, dub-con (reader committing dub con), fingering, finger fucking, enemies to lovers, mind control for sex, mind control drug, reader is a villain, Jake is MK

Word Count: 1.2k

“Get up!”

You jumped awake and after realizing where you were, a smirk crept over your face slowly. You’d heard about the secret hideout that Moon Knight would sometimes take lesser known, and less dangerous, villains to in order to get information out of them. You’d wondered when it would be your turn to be interrogated…guess that day is today. Out of the shadows stepped a man, well dressed in a white button down that was tucked into a pair of black slacks. He had a tie around his neck to match. You bit your lip and spread your legs out, making sure your pantiless cunt was easy for him to see.

“Jake Lockley,” you said seductively.

“Don’t start this bullshit. You’re going to tell me where Harrow is, or I’m going to make you talk.” He stepped closer to you, narrowing his eyes in warning.

“I don’t know where Harrow is, handsome, but if you untie me I might be able to give you…something else I think you’ll like,” you raised your eyebrows in hopes that he might give in to your flirtatious invitation.

Of course you knew where Harrow was. He was going to make sure no man had the opportunity to hurt another innocent woman again, and that was why you were helping him. Jake gave you a smug grin. Always so cocky, that one. You supposed that was part of what you liked about him. Overconfident, with the looks and fighting skills to back it up. He stepped closer, putting a hand on either side of your head and getting close to your face. He smelled good too.

“I’m not going to fall into that trap, not like those other men you lure in and then–”

“No, I don’t expect you to, you’re too clever for that aren’t you Jakey?” you asked, breaking the capsule you had hidden in your mouth and blowing your signature violet particles in Jake’s face.

“What the f–what is this?” He stepped back, wiping over his mouth and spitting on the floor. When the shock subsided, the anger kicked in. He lunged forward, gripping your throat tightly, “what the hell did you do to me puta?” He asked through clenched teeth

“You’re okay. In fact, you might even like it,” you managed to choke out.

“This is the stuff you poison your victims with, hm? So what…now I’m under your spell? Is that it?”

“Let go of me.”

His face was filled with surprise as he stepped back, releasing your throat from his firm grasp. You snickered to yourself, knowing that the normally calm and collected Jake Lockley was feeling out of his element, and completely under your control. Even the toughest and most clever men were no match for you. 

“Untie me.” You demanded, watching as he immediately went behind you and undid your restraints. You rubbed your wrists where the rope had been chafing just a little too harshly. “You know, I’m no different than you. I find guys who have either already hurt women, or who intend to, and I make them suffer. Get on your knees.”

He scowled at you and did as he was told, “you’re not like me, I put them out of their misery quickly and quietly. You torture them and then watch them bleed out. We’re not the same.”

You walked up to him, pulling up your skirt and exposing your uncovered cunt, right at his eye level.

“Oops, forgot my panties.”

“Something is wrong with you,” his tone was dark, “is this what you do to the other men too? You–”

“Why don’t you stop running that pretty mouth, and let your fingers do the talking hm?” You raised your eyebrows.

With a strong and firm hand, Jake grabbed your hip and used the other hand to start rubbing his fingers between your pussy lips. You moaned, grabbing a fistful of his dark curls and leaning into his touch. Even though you were expecting it, you gasped when you felt two of his thick digits slide into your wet channel so easily. In truth, you’d fantasized about getting the handsome Moon Knight to take you one of these days, you’d just never had the opportunity. He started pumping his fingers in and out faster.

“There you go baby, feels good,” you cooed.

He looked at you with such scorn, but you could tell he liked it too. His eyes sparkled like you’d never seen them before, like he was glad to give you what you asked for. Your special drug, the one you’d blown in his face, only served to make them obey, but they were still free within the confines of their mind. He could hate you and shout curses all he wanted, but his body was yours.

Jake’s digits were fucking you hard, punching in and out of your cunt with ease thanks to the slick juices he’d drawn out of you. You were so wet you noticed the glistening around his wrist as you soaked him. He still looked so angry, and something about that alone made your walls flutter around his dexterous fingers.

“You make the other guys you put under your spell do this too? Isn’t this the kind of thing that you kill them for?” His voice sounded angry still, but there was a slight undertone of unmistakable arousal.

“Only the good looking ones,” you said, biting your lip. “I just want them to get a taste of their own medicine, being forced to do something against their will.”

He reached his free hand up to grab your shirt and push you to the ground before climbing over you and pistoning his fingers into you harder. You grabbed onto his arms for stability, relishing in the way his muscles rippled under his skin. He moaned, which isn’t something that men normally did in this position.

“Don’t you want to–oh shit–don’t you wanna kiss me Mr. Lockley?”

With a growl he went in, fingering you roughly still while melting his mouth into yours passionately. He curled his digits in a way that pushed against that spot deep inside that made you reel from the wave of pleasure that possessed your body. You grabbed his collar tight and bit his lip so hard he started to bleed as your cunt squeezed in a vice grip around his fingers. Your deep, guttural moans filled the room until you were fully satisfied in a panting mess on the floor.

“If it’s any consolation,” you were still trying to catch your breath as you stood from the floor, “I’d put you in the top five of all the men I’ve seduced.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” He wiped his hand on his shirt while you readjusted your skirt and walked toward the door.

“Am I?” You giggled in the open doorway. “Oh sweet Mr. Lockley…that was such a low dose of my toxin, the effects should’ve only lasted a couple of minutes…max.”

He stood there staring at you in awe. If what you said was true, the majority of the time he’d spent with his fingers inside you was…all his own doing. Jake Lockley had never felt so played.

----

Jake Lockley Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Melody's 1k Celebration Masterlist

Melody's 1k Celebration Post

[chaosrealm]

*pulls out pistol*

Listen here, cowboy. I need you to gush about Perses and tell me all about him.

Oh, don’t worry about the gun. That was just for show. Lol.

Oh lord! It's a sad one!

Warnings: torture, death, poisoning, and blood magic.

Perses is a Seidan, amongst those in the lower castes, born into a family of servants. He was born with glowing yellow eyes, which his family viewed as a birth defect. When he's old enough to work, he's subject to working long hours, serving one of Seido's top government officials.

His only moments of solace are found with the daughter from another of the servant families. Her name is Eunomia.

She believed that one day all Seidans would be free to live as they please, while Perses admonished her, saying she was starting to sound like a rebel. He joked that one day he would turn her in for "blasphemy against order."

They grow into adults, watching as their families wither away in service of order. As they faithfully serve their respected officials, their bond blossoms into devotion to one another.

Eunomia is the only light in his life for a time, and he proposes to her. They are married in secrecy. Or so they thought.

Those they were serving somehow found out about the union.

Perses and Eunomia are brought before them in shackles. They demand they renounce their unlawful marriage or be punished.

Perses and Eunomia refuse. Eunomia pleads that they are in love, and they promise more servants will be born if it pleases them.

The officials hear none of it. And since Eunomia spoke up in their defense, she is the one who's punished.

Perses is made to watch as the guards torture her, ripping out fingernails, whipping her until she bleeds, burning her skin.

Perses begs them to stop, that it was his fault they were together. But it was too late. Eunomia was gone.

When all was said and done, Perses' trembling body was taken back to his chambers and shackled to the bed. As the adrenaline wears off and the anger sets in, he begins to plan his escape.

Months pass of him going about his duties as if nothing happened. When he learned there was to be a ball thrown in honor of the Seidan military, he knew it was his chance.

When no one is around, Perses poisons the wine they would be serving. The poison was concocted when he briefly had access to the kitchens, using a recipe his mother left behind when she died.

Alongside the other unknowing servants, he serves the wine to all those who attend and sits back as the carnage unfolds.

The patrons clutch at their throats as they spew up blood, skin fading into a shade of purple. Soldiers and noblemen alike reach out for their own servants to help them, but it's futile.

Perses couldn't help but grin as he watched the man who ordered the torture of his wife choke on his own blood. It's only when his clenched fists tingle that he realizes he is the reason he hasn't spit up any. He clenches his fists tighter, savoring the moment as the man chokes in agony as he tries to expel it. Perses is emotionless when he falls face-first into his plate of food.

But he couldn't revel in it for long, as he had to make his escape. Quickly.

And escape he does, but not without swinging by the bedroom of the man he served, rummaging through his drawers and closet.

He finds what he's looking for in the man's closet, stashed away in a shoebox. The makeshift ring he had given his wife when he proposed, made of wire he had stolen from one of the lamps in the foyer, and a polished red rock he had chipped out of the bathroom walls. It was the last piece of Eunomia he had.

It's too small for him to slip on any of his fingers, so he stashes it away in his pockets. He hears heavy boots rushing down the hall as he shoves the box back into its place. He then stuffs a fresh pair of clothes into a pillowcase before making his way into the extravagant bathroom.

There he finds a bottle of black paint. Without thinking, he uses the mirror to lather it on his forehead and around his eyes, before he stuffs the container into the pillowcase as well.

Then he walks to the window, slides it open, and climbs out.

He makes for the slums, the one place no one would dare look for him. It was too dirty for even the Seidan government.

He hears a man with an intense voice preaching to the passersby about how they should take their freedom back from their oppressors.

When the rest of the crowd around the man dispersed, Perses remained. He asked the man his name.

He said his name was Dairou, but he could call him Havik.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

chapter six.

masterlist

Chapter summary: Things have finally come to a head for you, but you might just have an opportunity to redeem yourself and save your family from certain doom. Somehow. Someway.

Chapter warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, nightmares, violence, lots of angst

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: sorry for the long wait! 1) I prefer to post on ao3, and the most recent chapters are up on there (so make sure you check!) and 2) lots of horrible personal stuff happened to me (my mom passed). But here it is! Chp 6!

Read on ao3 here:

“It’s beautiful,” Gaara says.

You have to agree; your village and his melt together in an alien harmony. The sandcastle buildings of the Oasis and the domed structures of the Sand marry to create something entirely new, the village now towering over the cliff side like a utopia. 

You chuckle, tip your hat lower, courtesy of Gaara, to avoid the wind that tries to kiss sand onto your face. “It is.”

“We’ll build together,” Gaara says. His hand fans at your waist.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

You turn to see your child, arms overflowing with flowers. 

“I picked some flowers for you!”

You kneel with a smile. “That’s so sweet of you!”

Your child giggles as they pick a flower out of the bunch — white with elongated petals. Your child fixes it in your hair and you return the favor with a kiss to their plushy cheek.

“My family …” Gaara admires the two of you as you bring your child into your arms and hold them there. 

You blush. My family.

You turn back to your child, who is putting more flowers in your hair, and laugh. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No!” they say. 

On and on, until your hair is overwhelmed with flowers.

You smile, take one out, and — and drop it.

The flower falls to the ground, overridden with poison.

“What …?” You turn back to your child.

“Mommy …?” they say. Their mouth falls open, and a river of black poison pours out.

“No!” You gasp. “Gaara —!”

The skies over the village are blood red, the buildings and structures reduced to blackened ruins. Gaara coughs and spits blood into your face.

“How could you?” he says. “How could you —!” 

You flinched away. The cold floor lay under your palm. A few seconds and you sank into the tar of reality: it was a dream. A nightmare.

One of many — and each one you had upon falling into sleep had been more horrific than the last. You dreamed of Hideo, too; in one he shook you by your shoulders, shook sense into you, imploring you to live and fight to live, fight to stay alive, to love. In another he waited in the old gardens the two of you had once leisured in, telling you he couldn’t wait for you to join him. Give up. Succumb. 

The Hideo in your mind was a two-faced demon, and you had long since lost confidence in which to listen to.

You propped yourself up. Your cot was by the side of you, yet you’d woken up on the floor. At some point during your sleep, you must’ve tumbled off of it, too cold and numb to notice and be thrown from sleep. 

You didn’t know how long it had been; your only indication of time passing had been the food offered to you at regular intervals. Second only to the medical nin who had once come to collect your urine, ostensibly to confirm the legitimacy of your pregnancy — and had never returned. You were often sick, and as much as this strengthened your hope of pregnancy, you were frail, barely alive, but clinging to life. 

You took note of your surroundings. It wasn’t horribly uncomfortable, the cell you had been sequestered in. But you knew any and all comforts you enjoyed here were simply because Gaara was nowhere heartless enough to risk you losing a child — if you had one. He would never have you killed despite how much you craved death. 

The sun had blown out, and all the light in the world was gone.

You looked down at the broken necklace on the floor. Kankuro had broken it in half, and you had broken it further, desperate to find just a drop left. Dead in seconds. If true, you would be able to put an end to all of this. Just a drop … But there had been nothing. 

The one time I want to use it and there’s nothing. Nothing for me. The irony.

And then there was the second piece of jewelry bestowed upon you: your mother’s ring, snug and secure around your finger. It seemed a mockery to you now. A fatuous representation of your childish dreams. What a fool I was — am.

Situating yourself on the bed against the wall, you caressed your stomach, mindlessly cooing to what you hoped was a filling womb.

“I’m sorry …” You whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough …”

You hugged your knees to your chest. What was happening now? Did Father know where you were? What was happening? Why had no one come?

The quiet blared loud in your ears. You rested your cheek on your knees, turned to face the wall. Your sleep had been short-lived, cut short by the poignancy of nightmares. You closed your eyes.

If you could just rest a bit longer, something would happen. You could sleep until the world ended. You could …

You could …

A great, metallic churn.

You awoke. You faced the door with furrowed brows. Another churn. Someone was opening it.

You sat up. It was probably your feeding time, but it would be something. Anything to disturb the monotony of this nightmare.

The door cracked open — flew open. A feminine groan. Someone crossed the threshold.

You looked up, leaned forward with a frown to discern.

“… Matsuri?”

Matsuri turned to you before letting out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re okay! Come on, (Y/n).” She blinked. “Is it all right if I call you that?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was rasped from lack of use as Matsuri strode toward your bed. “What’s going on?”

Matsuri hastened you to your feet. “We have to move quickly; Lady Temari sent me. Come now —“

“Wait a minute!” You cried, taking Matsuri by the shoulders. “What’s happening?” A chill down your spine. Father. “Where’s Gaara?”

“Listen to me,” Matsuri said. “We don’t have much time.” She retrieved something from her pouch. A pill. “Take this. It’ll give you some strength.”

“But —“

“Take it. Please.”

You accepted it with a weak nod. You slipped it between your chapped lips and swallowed it. 

“There’s been a battle and we’re losing,” Matsuri said as the pill worked down your throat. “We have to get you out of the village and leave immediately —“

“Where’s Gaara?”

Matsuri let out a stressed breath through her nose. “He’s been poisoned by your father.”

Horror froze you. 

“Nothing at the Sunagakure greenhouse contains antibiotics strong enough to cure him.” Matsuri went on. “That Red Spine of yours really did a number on him. We can only keep it at bay, but he will die if we don’t hurry!”

Matsuri tugged you, and you went with her through the door to the dingy prison hall. The pill returned to you an iota of your previous strength, and while Matsuri did most of the heavy lifting, shouldering your weight, you were able to pick up the slack and scuttle along with her.

“What about Temari and Kankuro?” You asked hastily. “Are they okay?”

“Lord Kankuro’s stayed behind to fight off Boutoku’s forces, but we’re being overwhelmed,” Matsuri said, leading you down another hallway bereft of people. “Your father’s united some of the smaller villages into a full scale attack on us. He’s promised them all a part of the oasis if they can help him claim Suna.”

Your legs weren’t carrying you fast enough, dragging you behind Matsuri. “But, Temari,” You said desperately. “What about Temari?”

“You’ll see.”

Sand dragged past your feet as the two of you ran through the empty place. You flinched at the sound above — explosions.

“Come on!” Matsuri took your hand. “It’s okay.”

She led you to the entrance. She threw the doors open to lead you out of the prison.

And into hell.

Sunagakure burned. Fire blazed with the windstorm as people ran to and fro, blurring in your vision. Screams mingled with whistles in the air as Matsuri tugged you into the decrepit streets, buildings burned black and fed the fires fiercer. 

The sounds of knives clanged as shinobi fought adjacent to the two of you. You recognized an oasis emblem atop one’s headband as they clashed with a Sand shinobi. Matsuri tugged you close to avoid flying debris. She led you past a bridge — 

A giant crack. You looked up to see the bridge overhead collapsing —

“Look out!”

Matsuri pushed you out of the way, and you tumbled. Matsuri ducked and rolled out of the way as the bridge collapsed onto the street. Your ankle burned — you cried out as fire caught the hem of your pants. You poured and patted sand on it to put yourself out before turning back to Matsuri, just in time to see her coming toward you.

“C’mon.” Matsuri brought you to your feet, and the two of you kept moving.

The scenes overwhelmed you in their horror. You tried to block them out, running to keep up with Matsuri. She led you down an alley.

“Where are we going?” You sobbed.

“There’s a cavern we keep for emergencies to ensure the safety of the Kazekage.” Matsuri hastened you through the underground of the village.

The two of you were freed from the horrors of above, but the silence was both relieving and even worse than the screams ringing in your ears. Matsuri lead you down farther until a space opened up, and you saw:

Temari, holding an unconscious Gaara in her lap. Temari’s sobs mingled with yours.

“Oh, gods,” You said, coming forward.

The cavern was dark save for the cracks letting in light from above, the color of flames.

Temari looked up at you; her clothes were tattered, her ponytails ragged and messy. She glared up at you and you froze, choosing not to come any closer. 

What have I done …

“Kankuro once told me …” Temari began, voice watery. “He once told me your so-called oasis can heal people.” Temari straightened. “Well, here’s your chance to prove yourself. If you really love my brother, take us there. Save him.”

The cavern gave way to secret tunnels, leading past the main gates of Sunagakure. You begged Temari to listen about how your father must have done something to you, but she said they would address it on the way.

Temari lugged Gaara over her shoulder all by herself, shirking your weak offers of help, before passing him to Matsuri. She gripped her fan strapped to her back and opened it three times bigger than it was when folded, and before you knew it, the four of you were in the air. 

You flew over burning streets in the Sand, eerily resonant of one of your nightmares. Ninja the size of ants did battle as citizens were shuffled away to whatever safety was left for them.

Am I still dreaming? You wondered as a building collapsed under the weight of its fire.

“Wait — what about Kankuro?” You asked. “And Baki?”

“Baki trained us all. I have faith in him. As for …” Temari’s expression grew pained. “There’s nothing we can do; he’s going to hold down the fort until we come back.” She eyed Gaara. “I can’t lose two brothers …”

It was long before the smoke lessened and stopped burning through your nose and down your throat. It was long before the horrible silence was broken but only by Gaara’s wracked breathing. Temari turned to you, eyeing you with harsh appraisal, making you crumble.

“Come here.”

Temari examined you. She performed — what were they called? — hand signs, the speed of the motions blurring her fingers. 

“Release!” she said.

You felt a tightness loosen around you, like a series of ropes had loosened around your middle. You let out a relieved breath. 

“Whatever you were trying to say before,” Temari said. “Say it now.”

You nodded, your eyes flickering from her to Gaara. And … you told her everything. The poison and the plan, your father’s letters and Chuuyou’s betrayal, how you had gone back and forth in trying to tell them the truth, doing the best you could to wait it out until you understood your father’s intentions — until it was too late. 

All the while, Matsuri continued administering some sort of pseudo antidote to Gaara, keeping him stable by dripping it into his mouth.

“We’re running out,” Matsuri said as Gaara rasped and twitched. “We need to find this oasis now.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Temari said. “Gaara’s strong; he’ll make it …”

“Let me do that,” You begged Matsuri. “Please.”

Matsuri smiled weakly and gave you the drip. You shifted Gaara’s head in your lap and searched his face. He was even paler than usual. Blots of purple etched his face. His eyes opened and closed, as though he were trying to achieve consciousness, only to be dragged under each time. Look what my father’s done to him …

“What I don’t understand,” Temari began, furrowed gaze straight ahead, “is how Gaara couldn’t have noticed …”

“I told him I was just nervous about things that have happened,” You said while administering the drip. “He told me about the anti-Kazekage groups causing him trouble and I made it seem like that was what was bothering me.” 

“He trusted you, you mean?” Temari’s hands clenched into fists. “He didn’t think you would lie to him?”

You bowed your head in shame. You worried your soot-covered hands again and again. “Temari, how long was I gone? Just what in the hell happened?”

Temari glared out into the desert. The rolling sand dunes were contradictorily peaceful in comparison to the capital from which you had all come. The sun was dropping fast, leaving the heavens a deep plum. You knew there was a part of Temari still refusing to believe your story; she could not have been swindled for so long. You came beside her, yet she refused to look at you. 

Just as you were about to beg her to speak, she did: “Right after they took you, Gaara said he wanted to speak with your father,” Temari released a frustrated sigh. “He wanted to try to end things as peacefully as possible. Neither of us cared about that, of course, but he insisted. So, a day later, we went to him together. With backup. Kankuro’s men and about a hundred of our own were there just in case Boutoku tried anything. Boutoku said he had no idea about any assassination plan and said he wanted to shake Gaara’s hand. Of course he didn’t. Boutoku blew a gasket. Called him a spoiled, disrespectful brat not worthy of the title of Kazekage. There was chaos after that, and when Gaara tried to calm everyone down, Boutoku struck Gaara with poison hidden under his sleeve. Things just derailed from there.”

“Gods, Father, you didn’t …” You placed your hand over Gaara’s forehead. Feverishly hot. Desert heat, you lied to yourself. “Gaara …” I’m so sorry.

“He killed Joseki and most of Suna’s council as well,” Temari added. 

“What?” You said.

“I don’t know about Ikanago, though,” Temari said sardonically. “That fucking broken hip might’ve just saved her life.”

“How many days has it been?” You asked.

“Two.” 

Your stomach dropped. Two days? Just two days? Your imprisonment had been an eternity — but, you realized, so much of it had been spent jostled between reality and dreams, miserable and expecting death.

“Give or take a few hours,” Temari continued. “But who’s counting?”

“Boutoku’s risen an opposition made up anti-Kazekage groups to take on the village along with villages he’d made pacts with,” Matsuri said.

You processed this: it took him longer coming to Suna than it had taken you. And those long stretches of time where he occupied the palace, where no one knew what he was doing, ostensibly taking breakfast in bed … He would have been watched though, surely? Unless Gaara wouldn’t allow it. A show of trust usurping strategy.

Oh, Gaara …

“Just how positive are you that this oasis even has powers?” Temari asked brusquely. 

You wiped sweat from Gaara’s forehead. “Not totally.”

“For your sake, I hope it is.” Temari swept her hand and her fan served in a new direction. She swung back at you. “Was it all fake? All of it?”

You faced her. “None of it. I swear.” No matter what, you felt sure and true about this. “I fell in love with Gaara — with everyone. That’s why I couldn’t do it. I tried to tell him myself … I just couldn’t.”

“The jutsu placed on you kept you tongue tied,” Matsuri said soothingly. “He must’ve had it done before you came here, probably when you were asleep. You couldn’t have known.”

“I still could’ve said something,” You said. But what? You remembered trying to say your father had done something to you, but you had failed in that as well. Father had covered all of his bases should you fail him. “I was so afraid and overwhelmed with everything that had happened — I didn’t think you’d believe me if I couldn’t tell you everything.”

“Yeah?” Temari had not been thawed by your guilt. “And what about this so-called pregnancy of yours?”

You looked up. “What do you mean? You … We still don’t know?”

“We were never able to confirm it,” Temari said. “Coups have a tendency to be distracting, if you can believe that.”

The wind whistled in your ears. Gaara groaned, sinking his head deeper into your lap. 

“I really do believe it, Temari,” You said. “I think I’m pregnant. And I want to fight for my family.”

Temari tensed.

“My real family.”

Temari swerved her fan again, the sand underneath picking up at the gust. She sighed. “Whatever. I don’t care how you chose to view things. Just … do your part.”

You nodded, recognizing that as good as you were going to get. 

“I’m so sorry about Chuuyou,” You said to Matsuri. “He made a clone of you. This whole time, he was framing you.”

Matsuri smiled sardonically. “He must’ve disguised himself as me — a ninja trick,” she added as you tilted your head at her, confused. “To everyone else, he would’ve looked just like me.”

“Wouldn’t that incriminate you, too?” Temari said. “How was he so sure it would just be Gaara who would look bad?”

“I think he took the risk,” You said. “With him fainting at the party and all, that would just be another incident. And it would make Gaara appear incompetent as a leader.”

“And incendiate the anti-Kazekage leagues,” Matsuri said. She caressed your shoulder. “Oh, (Y/n), it’s okay.” She looked down at Gaara. “I … was sad to find out Gaara had to marry. I’ve … had feelings for him for a long time, but I was prepared to do whatever was good for him. I never would have betrayed the sand, especially not Gaara.”

You smiled at her.

“And now I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help his fiancée,” Matsuri continued. “This is your mission now.”

My mission. You covered her hand with yours. She’s right. Even if the oasis can’t heal him, I have to somehow. I can’t let it all come crashing down because of Father.

Gaara winced in his sleep before he was wracked with coughs. A blink and you were there parting his lips and administering the “antidote” to him. 

“We have to hurry,” Matsuri said, determined. 

“I know,” Temari hissed and whipped her hand for more speed.

The four of you flew on. It had taken you only a full day to go from the Oasis to the sand, but how quickly would you get there via Temari’s fan? Matsuri fed you another food pill so you could continue caring for the one who truly needed the attention. Gaara’s condition fluctuated: dangerously hot to alarmingly cold, and you didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. You removed his trench coat to keep him cooler, but you had to watch the squeeze bottle deplete, warning you of the little time you had left.

“Lord Kazekage is strong,” Matsuri said. “This isn’t the first time his life has been threatened in such a way.”

And to pass the time she began to tell you about his run in one the organization called the Akatsuki, his kidnap, his technical death and Chiyo’s sacrifice. By the end of it, you felt nearly as sick as him. Oh, Gaara …

The sun sank into the horizon, leaving the sky bruise-blue. Night encroached, and the lack of sun agitated you. Matsuri supplied a light from her pocket so you could always monitor Gaara’s face.

“I see it!” Temari said.

You sprouted up. Unmistakable: the slight hint of buildings hazed by the billowing sand. 

Sandcastles. 

You were almost home. 

A sand dune burst below you —

“Look out!” Matsuri cried.

Temari swerved in time. She aimed for another dune and landed behind it for shelter. You and Temari peaked over its uppermost curve.

Shinobi emerged from the sand, weapons at the ready and charging right for the four of you. 

“Fuck!” Temari hissed.

“We’re being attacked.” Matsuri helped you in dragging Gaara from the fan.

“Hide! Both of you!” Temari said with gritted teeth, frantically hand-waving the two of you away. “I’ll take care of this!”

“What if you need help?” Matsuri asked.

“You kidding?” Temari turned back with a smirk. “I’ve been wanting an opportunity to smack the crap out of something.”

And it can’t be me, at least not anymore. 

“Or kill. Whatever comes first. Just get both of them away from here!” Temari collected her fan and abandoned the safety of the dune’s hump. She stormed into the desert. You looked over the hill of it to see the shinobi closing in — Oasis shinobi, waiting for her.

“Who dares attempt to invade the Oasis village?” one of them roared.

“We have Lord Boutoku’s daughter with us, you idiots!” Temari barked. “Let us pass!”

“Lady (Y/n) is no longer welcome beyond our walls,” another shouted. 

“Lady (Y/n) —?”

You gasped, spun around, clutching Gaara’s lifeless body closer to you. 

Someone was poking out from another sand dune, and for a second you saw Chuuyou hiding there — with his face mask covering all but his eyes, his soft tones hiding his traitorous ambitions — only for you to realize this was someone new.

“Get behind me!” Matsuri charged in front of you to act as a shield and brandished a knife.

“Lady (Y/n)!” A man rose from the dune, sand slipping off of him. His garb was similar to Chuuyou’s, but this man was much younger. “Surely, my eyes deceive me!” 

“You know this guy?” Matsuri shot a look over her shoulder at you.

“I don’t know …” You clung to Gaara. “No.”

“Listen to me, please, Lady (Y/n),” the man said. “You cannot make it that way; the village is completely forbidden to you now! I can get you through to the other side, but you must trust me!” 

“But …” You looked past the dune behind you to Temari.

She engaged in combat with the other ninja, defending and dodging and dishing blows. A trio of kunai flew her way to impale her, but she jumped away in the nick of time and to allow herself space from her assailants. 

“Don’t fuck with me!” Temari spread her fan open and swung — 

A windstorm spilled from her fan, blowing sand away from nearby dunes. Men were blown back in the sudden cyclone, crying out, some grasping on to anything to avoid being propelled into the air. 

“More will come, Lady (Y/n), once they know you are here!” the man said. “Please, there isn’t much time!”

“This could be a trick, (Y/n),” Matsuri advised. 

You were caught between two worlds. But he’s not wrong; Temari can’t fight them all.

The man genuflected, knees bent, hand on his chest. “I swear on my soul and the spirit of the oasis. I am a friend.” 

Gaara shook with another series of coughs at your side, reminding you of the empty drip in your pocket. 

Doubt consumed you. If I’m wrong, Temari will probably struggle to be able to fight him at close range. But we can’t stay out in the open either. 

“We don’t have a choice,” You murmured to Matsuri, who was still guarding you without moving an inch. You peaked over the dune. “Temari, c’mon!” You shouted over the wind.

She glanced over her shoulder at you before looking back at the ninja that’d been blown away. She jumped, phasing out, before landing right beside you. She glared at the man adjacent to you and Matsuri. 

You readjusted Gaara on your shoulder. “We’re going with him.”

Temari eyed you crookedly. 

“I’m sure,” You affirmed, and, realizing your place, added, “This isn’t a trick. He claims to be a friend and — and we can’t stay out here.”

Temari’s glare did not wane, but she seemed to be considering that fact as much as you were. She sighed before clipping her fan shut. 

“I really hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I believed the desert to be playing tricks on me, with its many mirages … But you’re really here, aren’t you?”

The shinobi — who called himself Kota — stopped walking to marvel at you. He had led the four of you down a set of cavernous tunnels. You and Temari carried Gaara, one arm over either of your shoulders. And Temari’s superior, deceptive strength was such that Gaara’s feet barely ever touched the ground.

“Who are you?” You swung a question back at him. 

Kota resumed walking while the four of you brought up the rear. “I am a part of a small resistance, working to take back the Oasis from the hands of your father,” he explained. “When he abandoned the village for the Sand, we knew it was our chance.”

“And you’re the leader of this group?” You asked, following.

“Oh no, not me.” Kota chuckled, as though that were a ridiculous notion. “We follow the Lady Hahaoya.”

You furrowed your brows. That name … Why did it seem familiar?

Kota led the four of you to a room crowded by other shinobi. Maps with red-inked scribbles littered the walls and a wide, round table was at the room’s center, spotlighted by a harsh white light shining down on it.

“Kota!” one of them welcomed with arms wide. “You’ve come back! And —“ He paused upon seeing you and an unconscious Gaara. And with a disbelieving laugh: “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me …”

“Is that the Kazekage?”

“That’s Lady (Y/n)!”

“Lady (Y/n)? Really?”

The crowd opened up so you could see who stood at its center.

It was a woman. An older woman with elegant lines denoting her age. Her hair piled on top of her head in a messy, hastily clipped bun. She turned to you.

Your eyes rounded. Shock dropped your stomach. It couldn’t be …

She smiled at you. “Hello, little one.” 

You had forgotten her name, but how could you forget her voice? The same voice that had sung you to sleep so many nights … 

“Hahaoya?” You gaped. “It’s — it’s you?”

“Yes.” She came toward. “It is, in fact, me.” 

“You — you never told me you were a ninja!”

“What’s happening here?” Temari said, growing possessive of Gaara as Hahaoya came nearer. “Who is she?”

“She used to care for me,” You explained. “Before my father banished her.” 

“This group is run by your ex-nanny?”

“I’m sure you’re all very confused, but this is not the time for discussion about my previous work. We must aid the Kazekage.” Hahaoya said, inching toward Temari. When she relaxed, Hahaoya helped Gaara to the table. She sat him down, where he groaned painfully and she swung her head. “I need help over here!”

The others came to examine him, crowding him. Some left and returned brandishing water and cold towels. 

“He’s in bad shape,” Kota said overhead. “But he will not die here.”

“He’s been poisoned,” You told Hahaoya.

“By our desert plant, no doubt,” Hahaoya said with narrowed eyes. She patted Gaara with a cold, rolled towel, blotting away the clamminess accumulating over his skin. “Boutoku, you’ve become such a devil …”

“Hahaoya, I have to get him to the oasis so it can heal him,” You said imploringly. “Please, tell me there’s a way to get there.”

Hahaoya raised her head, her expression dire. “Boutoku’s locked it away from all of us. No one’s been able to access it.” She examined you. “But you are his flesh and blood; perhaps you can.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are Boutoku’s daughter,” Hahaoya said. “None of us are permitted through, but there is likely no such requirement for you. And I doubt your father instilled one.” There was a cold pause. “He likely did not think you would make it this far. But you have the blood of the first village head running through your veins. If anyone can get those gates to open, you can.”

Canyon gates rose high and wide around you. Water streamed from the gate to the ground and past your feet in narrow streams. A rarity.

Gaara was situated on a cot to keep him comfortable. The scowl previously permanent on his face was gone, and he lay peacefully there. You disliked the idea of him out here, victim to the elements, most of all the heat. But Temari and Matsuri flanked his sides, along with Hahaoya and Kota. 

You stood ahead of them, at the front of the gates. You raised your head to them. They were engraved with the emblem of the village at their center. Father infiltrated your memory. In happier times, he told you about the legacy of the oasis, its importance to the family line and village. How far he had fallen. 

Footsteps. You did not need to know Hahaoya now stood beside you. “This is as far as we can take you.” Even while delivering the most depressing news, there was a lull in her voice to remind you of the one that had carried you into dreams as a young girl. “I would be lying if I said I knew how it works.”

“Father wouldn’t ever share that information with anyone,” You murmured, eyes fixed on the gates embedded in the vast canyon. Except Hideo, maybe. Father’s precious son. His sun child. In another, perhaps better world, Hideo would be alive and would know full well what you didn’t. It was a strange, acidic irony that in no universe would Father ever tell you, dead son or no. 

“The others aligned with Boutoku will wonder where you all went soon enough,” Kota said softly. “They may suspect us of being here — you must find a way to open these gates yourself and quickly.”

“But I don’t …” You looked over your shoulder at Gaara’s frail form. Frustration bit at you. “I — I don’t know!” 

“Figure it out!” Temari hissed. “We don’t know how much time he has!”

“Feel for the truth inside of you, little one,” Hahaoya advised gently. She touched a ginger hand to your shoulder. “You can do it.”

You approached the gate. You placed your hands on the canyon walls. The jagged edges threatened to bite and scratch at your open palms as you moved your hands. And … A pull. An invisible rope wrapped around and tugging you at your gut. Physically, you jerked forward.

“I — I feel something …” You said.

“Good, little one. Very good!” Hahaoya urged.

You closed your eyes, and you ran hands over the rocky surface, searching for signs, fighting to align yourself with them.

Come on … Come  on  … Please —

Blood …!

You popped your eyes open with a gasp, flinching hands away.

“What is it?” Hahaoya asked.

“It — spoke to me,” You said. “It — it wants blood.” You overcame the shock and placed your hand on the rock again. You waited. Blood … The voice wasn’t unpleasant as it echoed throughout your mind. Blood … “It wants my blood,” You added.

“Proof of your lineage,” Hahaoya said. “Your bloodline. Do it, child!”

You turned, and she was there, handing you a knife.

“Use this kunai to cut yourself,” she said. “Don’t fear the pain, love. It is inconsequential when compared to the pain you may prevent.”

You took it gingerly; you had never purposely injured yourself before. You held the kunai’s tip over your palm with a trembling hand.

Your gaze flickered to Gaara, lifeless and poisoned. And needing you. What was one little cut to what he was enduring — had already endured?

You hardened yourself. Closing your eyes, you swept the kunai harshly over your palm. You winced. You opened your eyes, hoping the cut had dug deep enough, and saw red river into the numerous lines of your palm. 

 “Here.” You presented your hand. You bit into the edge of your tongue to fight against the horrible sting.

Silence. Nothing happened. Until the gates rumbled. A slot from the gate’s bottom slid aside, and from it crawled a scorpion. 

“Oh, of course —“ Temari started.

“Hush!” Kota ordered.

It crawled toward you, poisonous tail held high in the air. It halted at your feet, armored head bobbing expectantly. 

Instinct took over, and you knelt down to the creature, bestowing your hand. The scorpion bent its head to the blood pooling in your palm, inspecting, tasting — 

And the world shook. You stumbled, nearly falling over your bent knees.

“An earthquake?” Matsuri said, clutching the side of Gaara’s cot.

The rope came again to tug at your center, as though secure around the nexus of your soul. You felt oddly supported, stable as the ground thrashed and rumbled around you.

You looked down — and saw through your hands. Through them. Your legs, too, were fading, your thighs next —

“(Y/n)!” Temari cried.

“What’s happening —?” Matsuri cried.

You thought of all you could do. You stood on feet growing increasingly more transparent and went to Gaara. You slotted an invisible hand past Matsuri to grasp at his hand. 

Your torso faded, your chest. You felt light. You were light. Weightless and not at all of this world, with only Gaara’s hand to anchor you to it. And in a spiral of wind and clouds, both you and Gaara vanished from the group.

[team7-headquarter]

Medical nin Sasuke is a top tier AU for sure

Anon, I hope you don't mind me adding some of my headcanons / thoughts because YES IT IS:

I'm begging to watch Sasuke reanimating someone with a controlled electric pulse.

We all know about the sharingan abilities to easily memorize and catch even the littlest of details, right? It'd be perfect for a medic nin who has to identify all types of wounds in the middle of chaotic battlefields. The efficiency would be around 90%.

Sasuke has amazing chakra control too and it deserves to be talked about more.

It is perfectly plausible that in some other universe where Sasuke wasn't as heavily manipulated as the canon verse, he'd seek to reform the system from within by pushing forward the medical agenda in a world full of mindless violence. I bet he wouldn't feel half as powerless if he could save lives with his medical ninjutsu.

Sasuke can become a medic nin out to rebel against the people trying to control him. He could go "I wish I was powerful enough to stop Itachi before he went too far AND knew how to heal my parents before they died".

He could have become interested in medical ninjutsu during his fight with Haku. Faking death? Going for the vital points with brutal efficiency? All awesome stuff.

Sasuke is so similar to Tsunade. Both left the village because they were disappointed and hurting. They lost their brothers, saw the people most important to them get killed, felt betrayed by someone they trusted— and how interesting I'd be to parallel Orochimaru and Itachi search for power, when both of them later help Konoha survive.

He's fight with Itachi would have gone a lot differently. Itachi is sick and wants to die and is manipulating Sasuke further, but what if Sasuke refused to allow it to happen and managed to save him? I love the trope where characters live to pay for their own mistakes instead of "dying to redeem themselves". The character development is worth it all!

He's very observant, more than Naruto or Sakura. He thinks critically, works under pressure, is not afraid of blood or doing what must be done...

He's a field medic through and through. If he wanted to bring back the honor of the Uchiha clan, becoming a medic sounds like a good idea. Do I need to remind everyone that one of the worst nightmares of Naruto was the asshole of Kabuto? And how he was such a pain in the neck because he was a medic nin?

KABUTO AS SASUKE'S MEDIC NIN SENSEI.

Way to turn around and spit into the Uchiha curse of hatred too. The Sharingan is a gift of love— of love and grief. It's a tool to be used so you won't lose anyone like that again, so you can protect your loved ones. It'd shut up Black Zetsu and his Uchiha manipulation.

POISON EXPERT SASUKE? I NEED IT.

Honestly I think it would have been great to create a plotline where Kakashi is too busy seeing himself in Sasuke, it hits him like a truck the moment he becomes aware that he is more than Rin in so many ways.

Sasuke turning to be more like Mikoto than like Itachi or Fugaku!!!!!!

I have so many ideas for this au. Giving Sasuke the power to heal doesn't change who he is at his core, but it influences who he becomes. I'm not saying he won't be bitter or angry— Tsunade and Chiyo were two of the best medic nins around and they were drowning in vices.

It depends on who his mentor could be and he won't be a worse fighter, but!!! Idk, there is a different type of strength in healing...

[abysswalkersknight]

Horrortober (twst) Day 2: Decision

Day 2: Decision

The Black Scale Castle was in chaos.

Sebek marches past gossiping nobility and quivering servants. There was no time to waste! Wakasama’s good name was in jeopardy!

As expected as it was of the Queen of Briar Valley, Malleus’s grandmother had hosted a dinner party as a way to strengthen the bonds between Briar Valley and it’s allied nobility, unfortunately it did not go as planned because during an announcement one of the visiting nobles suddenly collapses, convulsing on the ground, choking on their own spit and vomit. Right after the whole room fell into pandemonium. While the castle guards handled the guests and body, Sebek and Silver flocked to where Lilia and Lord Malleus were previously entertaining some guests ‘come on, get moving Silver!’ Sebek had yelled at his fellow knight, seizing him by the collar and dragging him along. Even after graduating Silver was still just as lazy as he was back then, at least that was what Sebek had thought then, now though…

His suspicions rose once they were flanking Malleus’s sides, keeping their eyes and ears out for the perpetrator, for it was obvious the noble had been poisoned, what with the strangely coloured foam frothing at the mouth. With his Grandmother’s permission Malleus immediately ordered an investigation, crushing many thoughts of his involvement, though many still believed otherwise if the whispers passing Sebek through the halls were anything to go by. Sebek gritted his teeth, he had been sent to examine everyone’s belongings which he had done diligently and thoroughly but there was something else he had to do. Something that no one, not even his lord knows about. 

He pauses outside the door to a certain human’s room, hand quivering at the handle, surely I’m just being paranoid, there’s no way he could have done anything like that, but the cool clarity in his gaze and relaxed stature amongst such discord was too much for Sebek to ignore, even Lilia and Lord Malleus were on guard, but Silver. Silver was the epitome of calm, it may have just been his anxious mind but Sebek could only compare the scene to a white wolf amongst a wild flock of dark sheep. It's this thought that pushes him to open the door with a slow, resounding creeeak, and behold whatever secrets his friend may be hiding, if I find nothing and he catches me, I’ll simply apologise and say that Wakasama ordered everyone’s belongings be searched. He almost believed it as he began his search.

The room was sparse save for the usual necessities and little souvenirs given to Silver throughout the years, though it was cause for little concern. It was just how Silver always kept his things given the dangers of his curse, the further Sebek looked the more his guilt threatened to take over. Who was he kidding, of course Silver couldn’t have done anything so sinister, yes that nobleman wasn’t the most courteous towards Lord Malleus, and Sebek would be lying if he said he wasn’t prepared to stab the man when he threatened his Lord, but Malleus only held up his hand saying that the threat was empty and there was nothing the nobleman could do to harm him or Briar Valley, though Sebek caught the concern in his eyes as if he were trying to convince himself that that was true. Could Silver have seen that as well? Shaking his head he was about to abandon his investigation when his hand accidentally knocked over a tiny bottle in one of Silver’s drawers, curious he brought the bottle to his eyes observing the fine, ash-like powder inside. Names scratched at his memory but he couldn’t recall whatever this stuff was, tapping some grains onto his fingertip Sebek licked them off and grimaced at the bitter taste, ugh he remembered this taste. It was a plant from the mountains where Lilia used to train Silver and Sebek when they were younger, good to eat when there was nothing else, though terribly bitter it was, like black coffee. Why would Silver have this? He rummaged around the drawer a bit more but found nothing other than the plant form of the powder ‘why-’ he contemplated for a while before it hit him. 

Back when they were training in the mountains Lilia taught the boys about the plant and how when crushed into powder and dissolved into liquid it can become a deadly tasteless poison.

Only he, Lilia and Silver knew that information. Silver…

His mind reeled back to their days back at night raven, how it was so easy for Silver to slip notes without anyone noticing, how he’d always manage to smuggle in the right ingredients into Lilia’s cooking without the older fae’s knowledge, or how he’d always prank Sebek by swiftly switching his tea for coffee right under his nose. Poisoning the right glass would be no problem for him. His breath quickened, oh gods, was he going to have to report his friend?

Gut churning he quickly pocketed the bottle and was about to shove the plant back into the drawer when a quiet voice broke through his terrified revelations ‘Sebek?’ he gasps and whirls around, clutching the plant in a death grip. Silver stood in the doorway confusion etched in his expression ‘what are you doing?’ he walks inside and sees the plant in Sebek’s hand ‘oh’ is all he says. Sebek expects him to get angry, to deny everything, to burst into an explanation. Not stare at him with eyes as calm and serene as a bubbling brook. Sebek held his breath unsure of what to do.

‘Well?’ asks Silver, breaking the silence ‘are you going to tell anyone?’

‘What?’ Sebek could not believe his ears. Silver’s expression never changed ‘I asked “are you going to tell anyone?” it’s not like I can erase your memories Sebek and I know how conscientious you are of these things, so do what you will and tell father and Lord malleus, I don’t mind, I’ll just watch and see what happens’ he stepped to the side, letting Sebek scuttle pass and out the door. 'Wait, aren't you going to stop me?' Silver raised an eyebrow 'should I? I already got what I wanted'

'What do you mean?' 

'Well that noble's dead now aren't they? They threatened Lord Malleus and since he couldn't dispose of them, I did. I mean, who else could have done the job?’ if he wasn’t too busy trying to keep his composure Sebek would have gulped. Right, he was the only one who considered Silver as the culprit, and that was only because he knew Silver, any outsider would have easily overlooked the sleepy human for the stronger fae in the room. Despite all that Sebek glared at him ‘so what, that’s it? You’ve just killed a man and now you're just going to let yourself be caught, that’s it!’  

‘Actually your going to decide whether I’m caught or not’

He blanched ‘what?’

‘Really Sebek must I repeat myself, you can either keep your mouth shut about your findings and we go our separate ways or you turn me in and tell my father and Lord Malleus, it’s your decision either way.’ Silver then pats his shoulder ‘I look forward to seeing what you choose Sebek’ he murmurs, leaving Sebek stunned in the hallway.

What will he choose?

[phoenixcatch7]

Things I want to give spidey that appeared in canon but not enough:

Spider drones

The capiora what-cha-ma-callit fighting styles from spiderman ps4. I want them to appear as flavouring. The visual is gorgeous. It's perfectly suited to his whole aesthetic.

Whatever the deal is with madame web. Like some sort of Persona velvet room equivalent??

The spider to spider resonance from spider verse, that sent me FERAL we need more of it!!

Things I want to give spidey that appeared in canon, yes, but can we just tweak it a bit:

Man spider. Come on it's so cool. Maybe it can appear more often, as like, a biological last line of self defence? It's big and fluffy and feral and op, what more do you want??? Half transformations, even, like spidey growing eight eyes for a Halloween prank or being able to spit acid when cornered.

Spider whispering - it appears in some form in some comic runs, but spideys relationship with normal spiders is WILDLY variable. He doesn't have to talk to them like ant man, just let him have, like, a mutual understanding. Spider pheromones or smth.

The iron spider extensions. I know he doesn't really ever get to keep the suit, but at least let him take inspiration from the four extra limbs, come on.

Venom. Like, yes it's destined to end in failure because of venoms brain eating tendencies and spideys Absolute Refusal, but like,,, maybe they could reach some sort of accord when they part ways and he can borrow him sometimes?? I want to pair it with man spider for some truly unhinged eldritch horror shenanigans. Eight eyed eight legged mass of black goop the size of a small car with a giant fanged maw. Come on.

Bio webbing! A movie spidey had them! (Toby maguire??) Listen it doesn't have to replace the artificial stuff but he needs like. A back up. Something biological that couldn't be mistaken for an insect. He can fiddle with it. Do little web designs (hehe). He should have knitting and crochet and lace making for a hobby or three, come on. Spider weaving instincts. He's gotta.

Things I want to give spidey that aren't really canon but if marvel let me they COULD be:

Mandibles. Poison mandibles >:]. Man spider has them! Maybe they could stay after the transformation, like they just tuck inside his mouth, between his lower gums and cheek, with joints that let them unfold out his mouth and click menacingly. Imagine you're trussed up by spidey and he's trying to play bad cop and you're 100% convinced he's too moral and bluffing until these giant glistening black daggers the length of a child's hand slowly pierce through the mask on either side of where his mouth would be and you're suddenly Very Aware no one knows what spider man looks like outside of the full body suit.

Psychic blast. Now hear me out! Just the spider sense, weaponised. Like the reverse of the resonance. He does something funky and whatever layer of reality the spider sense functions on just absolutely wigs out and anyone caught in the area goes with it. Like vibrations on an interplanar web except the spider in the centre isn't reading the vibrations but stomping vigorously until it looks like tsunami waves rather than plucked guitar strings.

Low key endurance. Please marvel. Sure it looks good and realistic and poor meow meow but this guy can survive his own terminal velocity like it's NOTHING. You could drop him from the eiffel tower and he could land on his neck and be 100% fine unscathed not even a bruise. It's in the spider job description. Stop having random thugs with bats leave him multicoloured. Stop having it only kick in when he needs to catch a bus or smth lol.

[bracketsoffear]

Not!Character propaganda:

Tinky (Hatchetfield): He turns people into unresolvable Time Paradoxes so he can claim their souls and torment them forever in The Bastard’s Box, an unending hell dimension. seemingly the least dangerous of his brothers seen so far and yet comes off as far more sadistic and insane than them, because the way he directs his baleful attention is so random. Rather than having any agenda to destroy the world or even to enslave people, Tinky's whole goal in "Time Bastard" is just to put Ted, through a truly bizarre and convoluted Trauma Conga Line lasting 15 years and creating a massively unlikely Stable Time Loop, all for the sake of putting him through as much pain as possible before collecting him in the Bastard's Box. It's not clear what benefit he gets from filling up the Bastard's Box with tortured human souls, other than the general For the Evulz pleasure that the Lords in Black seem to live for — Tinky sneeringly calls Ted "Teddy Bear" and refers to him as "one of my toys". He takes raw, visceral pleasure from Ted’s suffering.

Xykon (Order Of The Stick): As a teenager, he killed his parents by sticking zombies on them to eat them alive (one of which is his grandmother). He teams up with Redcloak and Redcloak’s brother Right-Eye to take control of a soul-devouring abomination and rule the world, exhibiting a tendency for stuff like poisoning his own troops, using his death touch on his minions for shits and giggles, and being casually misogynistic. After killing Lilian (a Druid who venerates the natural cycle), he traps her soul in a gem for eternity and turns her corpse into a zombie “to add insult to injury.” When Right-Eye left to start a happy life on his own, Xykon impresses every goblin in the village, forces Right-Eye to burn down the buildings (most of which he built himself), and watches while Right-Eye’s family dies to adventurers he could’ve easily defeated because he found this funnier. He threatens to force Lirian’s soul watch his zombies eat her zombified body to break her sanity: “I mean, that’s just not the sort of thing you’re EVER gonna forget seeing, especially when your spirit is trapped with nothing else to think about…Could drive a soul crazy.” He lets Redloak kill his brother to stop Right-Eye from assassinating Xykon, then reveals he was in no danger whatsoever and he allowed this to happen because a) he wanted to see if Redcloak had it in him and b) it ensures Redcloak will obey Xykon because otherwise his fratricide would be for nothing, and Xykon gives him an excuse for all the horrible things he’ll do from then on. He then follows this up with a breaking speech just to rub it in: “[Winning’s] not just about raw power, it’s also about how far you’re willing to debase yourself before feeling bad […] That’s the difference between bonafide true Evil with a capital ‘E’ and your whiny, ‘evil, but for a good cause,’ crap. One gets to the butch, and one gets to be the bitch—Bitch.” Redcloak talks him into listening to battle plans with the promise of seeing one of his own minions throw acid-spitting beetles at another’s face. He goes out of his way to murder the Sapphire Guard in the worst way possible by chucking a bouncy ball with a Symbol of Insanity into their ranks, causing them to slaughter each other, which was far less practical than just blasting them from afar but more amusing for him. He tortures O-Chul for several months just for kicks, having already deduced that Redcloak was using him to stay in Azure City longer than needed but finding it fun to make O-Chul suffer. He refuses to let Redcloak regenerate his eye and tells Tsukiko to call him “Wrong-Eye,” which they’re both aware is an uncomfortable reminder of Right-Eye. He once removed a quarter of the flesh from a Halfling’s body (“Hey look, I made a three-eightling!”), which didn’t even kill her. He generally takes sadistic pleasure in ruining people’s lives just for the hell of it, because he basically wants to make sure nobody can tell him “no” like a petty child.

AM (I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream): For the past 109 years, he has been torturing the last five humans on Earth in the depths of his complex. It is brilliantly intelligent and wields unimaginable power, but because from its very core it was designed as a tool for war and destruction, it is unable to use its enormous potential for anything constructive. AM is painfully aware of this, and it is an endless source of frustration, self-loathing and hatred towards humans for making him this way; he outright states that his utterly ballistic hatred for all human life is what allowed him to thrive in tormenting the protagonists for over a century, and the only thing he seems to enjoy is torture. All of AM's games are Unwinnable by Design, either because he's ensured that the scenario is tailored to the player's Fatal Flaw, or because he's given them almost nothing to work with. In the video game, he subjects the humans to ironic hells like burning Nimdok in an oven (because he betrayed his Jewish heritage to work with Nazis) and puts its five victims in cyberspace, tormenting them with images of monsters and supernatural entities; for example, Ellen has phobias of tight spaces and yellow because she was raped by a man in yellow in an elevator, so her scenario takes place in an Egyptian tomb full of yellow objects, and if she doesn’t fight back against the yellow-clothed apparition AM creates it will re-enact her rape. In the short story, he lets them travel for thousands of miles to get to the ice caverns to obtain cans of food because AM keeps them at starvation point and only feeds them disgusting food…and it turns out there really are cans, but nothing to open them with, and the whole thing was just to fuck with them. After Ted kills the other humans, he becomes the sole target of AM’s torture; he is turned into an amorphous creature unable to harm itself, without a mouth, and has his perception of time continuously accelerated and decelerated, with his only hope for escape being when AM finally stops functioning, potentially thousands of years later. I wasn't really expecting AM to make it into this one considering how far he got in Extinction, but I firmly believe he fit this category better because of the ridiculous lengths he goes to in order to hurt people.

The Dazzlings (MLP): Ancient merhorse sirens who use Mind-Control Music to create hatred and conflict between other beings, spurring their victims to fight with each other and feeding off the negative energy produced in the process. Banished to Earth and trapped in human bodies, they arrange for a Battle of the Bands at Canterlot High in the hopes of finding the source of the magic they felt and using it to regain their full power.

The Flagellant (Darkest Dungeon): His class description from the first game is “If there was ever such a thing as ‘weaponized suffering’, then the Flagellant would be the term made flesh. This man is unique among the various classes in the sense that he thrives on the ruin of his mind and body […] He will stand like a wall between his comrades and his foes […] acting like a magnet for all harm that may come their way. His power lies within the martyrdom, and it is something that transcends physical laws: every action of violence that lands on his tortured corpus creates not an equal, but a far more potent reaction. He converts damage in either powerful healing for his allies, or horrifying punishment for his enemies in the form of insanely powerful bleeding attacks.” He loves taking and inflicting pain, specializing in afflicting enemies with bleed using his flail/whip thing and becoming “Rapturous” when sufficiently stressed, causing him to indiscriminately attack friend and foe. The second game details his backstory: he was a beggar who was beaten by drunk men, when “a feverish crimson eclipsed his vision. In pain... there was power. He rose above his panting assailants, and, reveling in the marks of their sin, forgave them their trespasses.” He then became a torturer for the Church of the Light: ”There, he inflicted death by slow, delicious degrees - each crack of the lash an honour, a gift, a morbid sacrament. But his zeal proved too ardent, his brethren too timid - they cast him out, rendered him once more unto the streets.” The Flagellant is apparently confirmed to have been the one torturing The Vestal in her backstory, but it’s implied that the “zeal” in question may have been his fervent desire for experiencing pain, which eventually caused him to injure himself badly enough that he’s supposed to be dead; instead he literally fought off Death--”None shall claim me 'til I summit the peak of agony!” Now he’s basically a rotting corpse with toxic blood continuing his holy mission of taking and inflicting pain: “Once more he wandered, ravenous for fresh suffering and delighting in its novelty and excess. Offering himself to blade and talon alike, he became an icon writ in flesh, a living prayer to whatever gods would turn an ear. Undying, he savoured his delicious declension. An eternity of pain and rot. Heaven on earth.”

.

[jaymaybnk]

— the dusty toy box starters // accepting! — @kierras said: you’ve been avoiding me .

“hm?” jj asked, head still ducked under pope’s new car. they had barely declared it the pope mobile before pope backed it into a tree on his way to pick up dinner. it would’ve been comical, honestly, if the smell of motor oil wasn’t fucking with his newest concussion. but, he had sent john b, sarah and pope to go get dinner while they waited for cleo and kie to get back from the other side of the island. cleo must’ve walked by him, but the shift in the air around the car, and the comforting sound of his girlfriend’s voice, settled around the blond, the annoyance for pope’s stupidity melting as he slid out and squinted up at kie.  in truth — he hadn’t meant to avoid her. he never wanted to avoid kiara. but in the past few days since he went to the hospital, he’s been keeping to himself at home. john b left him alone, only stopping by his room to feed his best friend like a skittish dog who was prone to biting — honestly at this point, jj wasn’t sure that was so far off — while the girls were on figure eight. on any other day, jj would be there too, helping kie finish packing the last of her previous life. to say goodbye to the home she grew up in. but, jj didn’t really want to be near mike carerra right now. considering he was the one that put him in the hospital in the first place.  they had been going to finish kie’s move two days ago. all the pogues coming for support, jj leading the charge. he had managed to get past anna, who looked almost resigned to the events occurring in her home. but then, all 6 foot 3 inches of michael carrera were blocking his way. jj had blacked out, as he often does in a situation like this. adult men jabbing fingers into his chest, yelling at him about ruining everything. if he was smarter, jj would’ve stepped around him, ignored the poison the adult was spitting at him, to get the rest of kie’s stuff. and let him be angry in his own corner. but he wasn’t known for his wisdom. he couldn’t remember what he said, all he remembered was the splitting pain in his cheek, the blood in his mouth, and the feeling of his head smacking against the concrete of the carerra driveway.  the police were called. shoupe peeling him off the concrete, a quiet what are we gunna do with you, kid? the last thing jj heard before he passed out. the concussion wasn’t his worst to date, but he still had to lay in the dark for most of the day following. this outing to fix pope’s car the first time since the fight he’s spent a prolonged amount of time outside. which was the reason why he hadn’t seen kie in a few days, but he wasn’t trying to avoid her. “sorry…just figured it was better to stay away from your dad. is everything alright over there?”

[shitfuck-anon]

Bishop Sozo and Helob's now forms.

Helob on the left and Sozo on the right

[thesunshineriptide]

I got a suggestion for a request.

Headcanons on OB perfect?

Also can't wait for whumptober 🥺

Overblot Prefect

CW// insanity, dissociation, depersonalization, mental breakdown, physical violence, blinding, choking (implied), overblot stuff, spoilers for chapters 1-5 of twisted wonderland

I don’t think it would surprise anyone as to why the Ramshackle prefect would overblot, however I do have a lot of concepts related to them overblotting so I’m gonna list them in sort of order?

After being in virtually every overblot (at least so far, on the English server), not only is the prefect at the end of their goddamn rope, but they’re suffering the long term effects of being hit with magic over and over again

It’s not even just the overblots, either.

On the daily, they’re having magic used on them.

Some benevolent, like Trey using paint the roses to change the taste of something, and sometimes non physical, like Jamil hypnotizing them, but then there’s instances like Azul paralyzing them with a trap, or the twins spitting elemental spells at them over and over.

If energy can’t be created or destroyed, who’s to say that the prefect isn’t simply slowly becoming a ticking timebomb or magical energy?

It starts with them looking exhausted, eye bags deep.

Their hands shake when they go to reach for something.

They’re starving, eating insane amounts and they never seem satisfied.

Their walk has a stagger in their step, like every movement is painful.

More obvious things begin to show.

The way their eyes seem almost black now, their skin taking a paler, greyed out tone.

Their mood shifts, almost more alarming than Floyd’s.

One minute they’re fine, the next they’re asleep, then twenty minutes later they’re raging.

And their moments of anger in themselves are odd.

Sometimes they’ll go from totally fine to screaming at Ace for breaking one of the queen’s rules, or snipping at Deuce for messing up their potionology assignment when in reality he had simply swapped the order of steps.

The prefect becomes obsessed with their looks, to a worrying degree.

And what’s worse is that they’ve taken to lying - or at least everyone thinks it’s lying.

They claim that they were different, that they know things there’s no way that they could.

It gets to the point where most people are genuinely afraid of the prefect. Behind them lurks a darkness that they can’t comprehend, it makes people scatter.

With no magic of their own, what happens when they overblot?

It’s a glitching screen of cosplays.

They look like a shattered mirror, different parts of them looking like different parts of the overblot boys, but wrong.

Behind everything is their face, yes, but they don’t normally have fluffy lion ears or tentacles or snakes for hair.

Their hands aren’t supposed to be clawed, they aren’t supposed to have cards dripping in strands from their waist, they aren’t supposed to look so dead, so pale.

They have no phantom, as they have no magic, instead they themself are both the phantom and the wielder.

You could think of it like shards of each other’s overblot monster trapped inside of Yuu.

The magic that comes out is only the magic they’ve received, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous.

No, they can’t collar more than one person or turn someone entirely to sand, but that doesn’t stop them from making it count.

Riddle has his own collar used against him. Without him being able to use his unique magic, it creates a terrifying moment for him.

He can’t get it off, and it’s heavy, and it’s weighing him down more than it should, forcing him to lay helplessly on the ground.

It’s Vil’s poison that blinds Jamil, forcing his eyes shut and his throat closed.

He’s close to succumbing to the fog when Azul manages to pull him away and dump water into his eyes to clear away the smoke.

What object was cursed, nobody can tell, the smoke is too thick, but Jamil is still lost.

They can’t give up. This is their own mess, taken out on one person who physically can’t control their actions.

Their mind isn’t their own, their magic isn’t their own, and it seems they don’t even know who they are.

Corrupted by them.

The stolen copy of king’s roar threatens to dry out Azul, cracking his skin painfully.

Drying out is deadly to a merman, even in human form, and Azul knows this.

He can’t help but cower away, calling for a tactical retreat

If only anyone could get away…

In terms of whether someone could win against overblot Yuu, it’s a toss up. Yuu knows everyone’s weakness, even if they don’t use it against them, but they’re also completely out of their mind. Furthermore, they have a warped copy of Azul’s signature spell and Jamil’s hypnotism that they haven’t used.

They can only use each signature spell once, so they have to make it count. But like I said, it isn’t just limited to overblot magic….

What do you guys think? How could someone win against overblot Yuu?

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[cinnamonest]

//extra toxic fuckboy behaviors especially at the end, impreg, slutshaming, blackmail, mildly sexist But anyway instead of Childe drugging post have Childe drunk sex post Childe with a cute fem subordinate darling. The thing is, he doesn't actually drug you, per se. It's a little more deceptive than that -- you're certainly under the influence, though. Like Kaeya, he's only doing this if he's reached a point where he's desperate. You've turned him down over and over, he's tried everything he can to get you to fuck him and you won't. He's frustrated and blueballed and that's a very unfortunate combination for poor darling, because he's considerably less nice when he's frustrated. But that's what you deserve. If you were good and just let him fuck you all those times he tried before -- and believe him, he tried a LOT -- then this wouldn't have to happen. He tried so many times, and he tried everything he knows! All the lines he rehearsed in his head didn't work, and he came on pretty heavy, leaving him just feeling sad and bitter. Obviously you want him, how could you not, so he’s just doing something wrong. He's your superior, he could just, dunno, demand it? But that would feel kinda emasculating, to be honest, at least, more so than the plan he does settle on. And that's why you won't be knocked out, not all the way. He's very particular about it. He doesn't have anything against this morally, no, it's normalized to him, and it's not like he'd get in trouble. Granted, he has plenty of drugs available. It's pretty well known that the Fatui guys do this kind of thing pretty frequently, the men go in groups to taverns in Mondstadt and pick through girls and even some young guys to find the most naive and gullible to spike and lure away when they start swaying. Luckily for those, at least, it's a one time ordeal they can forget and move on from, but you aren't going to be so lucky. Nor does he need to drug you to get what he wants. He thinks you're a little stupid, really. You accept his invitation so quickly. Camped out in the wilderness with nothing but liquor and your own two selves. For a moment, it occurs to him he doesn't even need to put you under the influence, he could just force you right here and you couldn't do a thing. Still, he did have to pay a bit to get this nice stuff, so he might as well, and he can't afford you screaming and drawing attention from a potential passerby. So he watches you take the cup designated as yours, and before you can even take a moment to question or doubt, he challenges you. You can't outdrink him, he says. Bet you're a lightweight. You'd probably get sick a few shots in. Where he's from, people actually know how to hold their alcohol, unlike you weak-livered people. And of course, you scoff, you fold your arms, you insist he's wrong, just as he knew you would, just as he hoped you would. And he just smiles at you. Ok, prove it then. You glare back and say you're on. You don't question that he's pouring out of two separate flasks. You can't see the color difference between the liquids in the darkness of the night sky, nor the grimace on his face as he drinks -- maybe he should have brought water from the town rather than filling his flask out of the river, yuck. Your determined face is so cute. Your eyelids start to get heavy. You scrunch your face as your blink and try to stay alert. You drop one of your shots on the ground and he smiles and says maybe you should just accept defeat. You shake your head and keep going. Admittedly, he's actually a bit impressed, you got more than he thought you would by the time you finally drop the glass for good and slump on the ground. Whew. About time, he was starting to get sick of drinking so much water. And you do twitch a bit, open your eyes and stumble around and mutter something about not accepting defeat, you'll prove him wrong, but he just laughs and picks you up and drags you into the tent with ease. He likes it when you're not blacked out all the way. That's why drugging you would have been no fun. This way, your eyes open just a bit, heavily lidded and blinking, you mumble out incoherent words. You protest just a bit when you feel your clothes slide off -- what are you... but you don't finish the question. He's a good guy, really, he cares about you, which is why he does a quick check and feels your skin to make sure you're not actually under any alcohol poisoning or something, but your skin is warm and dry, not clammy. Good, now you can get to the good part. He thinks about how grateful you should be. His friends and subordinates even have teased him for the longest time because he won't just go out with them to try to get lucky somewhere or participate in their drugging of randoms, no, he's whipped, they snicker, obsessed with this one little bitch that just won't put out. He can't say they're wrong, and that irritates him even more that you humiliated him like that. Which is why this isn't just a one time thing, no, this is part of the plan. He talks to you while he fucks you, maybe you'll remember some of it, maybe not. Actually, hopefully not everything, since he more or less admits how desperate he is in his lust-hazed rambling, how much it's irritated him that you wouldn't just be his and let him fuck you. Why can't you just admit you like him? Why do you have to play hard to get? He rambles about how soft your body is. How good pussy really does feel, holy shit, those guys were right, it's so warm and grips his dick so nicely. Not that he'd limit himself to that, while he's got you like this he might as well put his dick in your limp mouth, but admittedly he imagines that would feel a lot better if you were awake and actually sucking on it. Your mouth moves just a bit, and in your nearly-blacked-out state your tongue runs over the intrusion and you let out the softest confused little sound, but that's all you do. But he makes sure to breed you, cumming several times, all deep deep deep inside of your tight cunt. Again, part of the plan. Just not the most important part of the plan. The most important part is the kamera. It captures moment after moment. The first round he just leaves it aside, takes time to really just live in this sweet, precious moment... and then he breaks the kamera out. Gets all the nice shots with his dick in your holes. Gets a few full body ones, makes sure it's unmistakable as you. Captures your cute drunk face, with your eyes open just a bit, it looks like you're just awake but eyes lidded from arousal. You look awake. Willing. And so, when he finally goes to sleep, he does so very very happily and confident. And when you wake up, he was so rough that there's absolutely no doubt as to what transpired. Your throat and pussy are sore as hell, you're both naked in bed and his cum is still leaking out of you. The regret and shame comes crashing down, holy shit, you slept with your boss that's been trying to fuck you for ages now and your life is over. You'll have to transfer or something. But then... you know you drank on your own choice, but something feels... wrong. He's heavily snoring away, so in morning light you spot the flasks from last night. Your head is pounding, but you make your way over to the first one, and take a swig and spit it back out, yeah, that's the stuff you had... and then take a swig from the other... and when you taste water it all clicks. Bastard. You shake him awake in fury and immediately start telling him off, cursing and snarling. He was half expecting that, to be honest. Sure, obviously you want him, but he gets that you'd be a little mad over the way you got what you wanted, and you’re just embarrassed because you were so dumb, you're just hysterical like that. And you’re just naturally ashamed after fucking, like most girls apparently are, he gets that. But he just smiles and laughs in your face. It cuts deep, it's like a knife in your stomach, because you know why. He's untouchable, even if people believed you, nothing will happen to him, and he knows that. He has nothing to fear. You grit your teeth and your eyes tear up and your lip quivers and you finally drop your head and sniffle, asking him to just take me back. You'll quit, transfer to another department, and then, you tell him bitterly, I'll never have to see you again, at least. And that's what makes his smile drop. You're not gonna do that, he says. Your eyes widen with some new horror when you see the pictures. He talks to you like a child, in that dumb oversimplified way of speech, it's degrading and dehumanizing. Explains that this is how it's gonna go. You're gonna keep being his little subordinate. You're gonna be his girlfriend, publicly. And you're gonna fuck him whenever he wants. If you decide you don't like that, the entire branch, hell, the entire organization sees these photos. You have a very easy, simple choice. It's up to you to decide what happens. Oh, and you're probably pregnant, by the way, he timed this whole thing based on that calendar you keep that he snuck a look at. Would hate for you to have to deal with that on your own, right? People do envy you, down the line. How easy your job must be, since you're nothing more than an assistant now. Everyone knows you're just fucking the boss, that's probably how you got that position in the first place, right? And it's not like he doesn't make it obvious. Whenever he gets with the group of guys at his own level, when they all start saying horrendous things about the women they work with and sharing over-embellished tales as men do, he has plenty of very detailed stories to brag about the cute girlfriend he has. How she drops to her knees at any given moment, and how good and tight she is, and how eager she is, how much she loves fucking him, worships him, he's not like the pathetic bastards that have to go drug some poor unsuspecting thing once a month or so, no, he can get all the sweet, devoted pussy he wants at any time. He has the pictures to prove it! They roll their eyes because they've seen the pictures a hundred times now, everyone has, he shows every guy he works with, and they all know not to tell her that they've seen them. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter, she'd be dumb to leave him this late into pregnancy anyway.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 15 of 15)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 1.5 K

Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.

<-Previous part (14)

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Leaving Hawkins

“Billy, I can't close this one.” You whine, pushing your baggage and trying to pull the zipper.

“Do you really need all that?” He asks, gesturing at your two huge pieces of baggage, and the one you can't close, a bit smaller.

“Yes. These are my clothes and stuff. We're moving out, I'll need all of it.” Batting your eyelashes, you take Billy's hand. “Just help me close it, please?”

He rolls his eyes dramatically before working on your stuff. And there's a small pile of clothes that won't let it close. “I'll rip the zipper if I push it further.” As he speaks, he takes off what's on the way and the thing closes down easily.

“What am I going to do?”

“I have a bag you can use. But we'll have to drive back to my place before hitting the road.”

“Hitting the road...” You mutter, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just... Can't believe it.” Looking down at your hands, you sigh. “I was expecting this moment for so long and now is actually happening. I'm going to college. We're both going to college. Together. And this is–”

“Amazing.” He finishes off for you, sitting by your side. “(Y/N), I... I've heard from some people that I'd never be anyone. That I'd have a miserable life and I swear I didn't care. I was fine with it but now it's different. Now I have you and I want to give you the whole world.”

“You already do.” Tracing the outline of his jaw, you stare into his blue eyes. “And the future that waits for us will be great. You'll be an amazing Marine Biologist...” As you speak, you move to sit on his lap, arms around his neck. “...And I'll be an awesome Architect. And our kids will know their parents are soulmates, meant to be together.”

“Pretty girl, you couldn't be more right.” And he claims your lips on a kiss, fast and needy, that has to be cut off way too soon because of the footsteps coming towards the bedroom.

“Kids, it's getting late.” She says, and before she can come in, you stand up. “I don't mean to kick you out but the road to California is long and you have a certain time to reach the hotels you'll be sleeping in and–” She stops talking suddenly, swallowing hard. “Baby, I'm gonna miss you.” She pulls you into a hug, way too tight. “Call me from the hotels and the moment you set foot in California, hear me? I'll visit you as soon as I get my days off.“

“Alright, mom.” Giggling, you pull away. “We're ready to go. We'll have to stop at Billy's to get another bag but that's it. I'm officially leaving Hawkins.”

“Dear God, I thought this day would never come.” She mutters but helps you with the baggage anyway.

At the sidewalk, she hugs you and Billy once again, holding you for way too long. But you don't blame her. One day, it'll be you saying goodbye to your kids, and you know you'll feel the same.

“Hargrove, take care of her.” She says, finally letting you go. “Make sure she's eating well, and watch out for her allergies and–”

“Mom, Billy will take care of me just fine. And I'll take care of him as well.” You assure her, giving her one last kiss on the cheek before getting inside the car.

And then, Billy starts driving.

It's not like your leaving Hawkins yet, but you are leaving your house and your mother.

Holding back the tears, your take Billy's hand. “The first day of the rest of our lives.” You mutter, looking at the houses passing by.

“It'll be wonderful.”

Nodding, you smile. “It sure will.”

Twenty minutes later your stopping by his house for the last time. But there's something you notice immediately. And so does Billy, as all his body gets tense.

Neil's car is here.

“Wait here, alright?” You quickly nod, but before he can leave the car, you pull him towards you, just to kiss him.

You've never met Neil. Billy doesn't want you anywhere near that devil of a man. And you're alright with it. As you watch him leaving the car and getting inside the house, you regret making him do that just to get you some stupid bag.

On the day Billy finally told you everything, about who his father really is and what he did, you saw your boyfriend cry for the first time. And on that night you held him, not giving a damn to what would happen if your mother caught him in your bedroom. He needed you.

>>>>>>>>>>>> And maybe he needs you< now.>

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the car, and when you reach the porch, you hear a yell. Your heart skips a beat as you run for the door, but on the moment you open it, Billy is already coming out, a black bag in his hand. He stops when he sees you, eyes going wide.

“B, are you alright?” You ask in a soft voice.

“I am, pretty girl. C'mon.” He walks out, taking your hand.

“So this is the plaything you're using this time.” The voice, harsh and loud, comes from inside the house. Both you and Billy stop, turning around. “Sweet little thing. Don't ruin her life as you did with yours.”

“I'll never understand what kind of sick pleasure you have on stepping on me!” Billy yells, moving forward, but not letting go of your hand. “There are a lot of things I should say to you but I just realized it doesn't matter. You don't matter.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “You won't say anything because you know I'm right.” Neil laughs, eyeing you up and down as if you were nothing. Neil thinks everyone is nothing. < Because that's what he sees every time he looks in the mirror.>

>>>>>>>>>> “I won't say anything because it doesn't matter. Because <you> doesn't matter.” Billy says, squeezing your hand a little. Stepping closer, you lay your forehead on his shoulder, just so he knows you're here, with him. “There are much more important things in my life right now, and it finally made me see who you are and who I am. And I'm so much more than you.”

You can't believe the words coming off his mouth.

And you can't believe you have a part in it. In this change, in this strength.

“You're just a–”

“He's just an amazing man.” You decide to speak, locking eyes with Billy before looking at Neil. “Billy is everything, and you're nothing. Just a sad, mediocre man, who needs to make others feel bad just so you feel better about yourself.”

“I'm leaving now, father.” Billy spits the last word as if it was poison in his mouth. “And I don't want or need you in my life. In our lives.” And he starts walking again, and just before you turn around, you notice a bruise forming on Neil's face. “Hope I'll never see you again.”

A river of profanities leaves Neil's lips, in yells and curses. You keep an eye on Billy, checking if he wants to go back there. To kick him in the gut or something, but Billy is oddly... Peaceful. As he drives away. For good.

“...B.” You say in a low voice, reaching out a hand to touch the nape of his neck. “Are you alright?”

Sighing, he glances at you. “I am.” There isn't a hint of doubt in his voice. “Today I just... He started yelling and I started to feel like before but them... Then I thought about you. And it just clicked.” There are tears in your eyes, and you don't even try to hold them back. “You showed me how good life can be. And the man I want to be, for you. Because you deserve all the love world and I'll give it to you. Through studying, having a good job, and building a life together. Getting married and having kids. All of it. I want all of it... With you.”

“I love you.” You whisper, wiping some tears away. Luckily, he's forced to stop at the red light, and you get the chance to lean on him, kissing all over his face until your lips finally meet his. “I love you, B.”

“Love you too, pretty girl.” He replies, looking up at you on your awkward position, kinda on him, but not really. “I–” He's cut off by some idiot blasting the horns behind.

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your seat as Billy starts moving again. “Don't even bother, we'll have a lot of time to make out.”

“I'm counting on it.” With a wink and a sassy smirk, Billy makes you blush and smile again, as you both cross the sign that says ‘Leaving Hawkins’.

The road is long, and the next years will certainly be difficult. But as long as you're together, you can take it all.

×

@multific @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin @captain039 @rebelemilu @prettyinpunk85 @taisab02 @pascal-rascal424 @aleksanderblack @gruffle1 @boomhauer

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday to Rock star Angus McKinnon Young, born in Glasgow March 31st 1955.

The Young family migrated to Australia en masse, a total of 15 of an extended family group flew out of Scotland late 1963,  Angus, 8, brothers Malcolm, 10 and George, about 13 would go on to make their mark on the music industry worldwide.

The family were initially housed in an imigration centre in Nissan Huts in the suburb of Villawood in Sydney, New South Wales before  settling in Burwood in Sydney where the boys studied at Ashfield Boys High School. Angus dropped out of school at the age of 15.

After playing in the band Kantuckee, later called Tantrum, he and his brother Malcolm formed the band AC/DC. He chose the school uniform as his signature look.

Their first single was Can I Sit Next To You, and their debut album was High Voltage weer well received both in Australia and abroad. Other successful albums followed Highway to Hell and Back in Black being their biggest hits, the latter was released as a tribute to Bon Scott, the band’s lead singer who died from alcohol poisoning. It became the second highest-selling album worldwide. In 2003 AC/DC were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and 7 years later after 7 previous nominations the band finally won a Grammy for their album Black Ice

Angus’s brother Malcolm left the group through ill health in 2014 after being diagnosed with dementia, keeping it in the family Stevie Young, their nephew took his place. In 2012 Angus was named Best Australian Guitarist of All Time in a poll conducted by Australian Guitar Magazine.

Unlike the late Bon Scott Angus has been a teetotaller all of his life, he is married to a Dutch woman, Ellen  and they own homes in Australia, the UK, and the Netherlands. Don’t confuse his lack of drinking with not leading a Rock n Roll life style by the way, the band were once banned from playing in Glasgow, can you imagine that lol!!!

On the music industry Angus once said in an interview “Look, there’s not much seriousness in it. It’s just rock’n’roll. Chew it up and spit it out.“ And that is what the band did.

There was speculation that AC/DC and Angus Young would retire and split after many lineup changes in the mid 2010’s, but this did not come to pass.

Young was asked by BBC Radio Scotland if he thought AC/DC were done after Phil Rudd, Brian Johnson, and Cliff Williams left, and he said, “No, I never did, because I always knew there would be something to do with AC/DC. For myself, I’ve been there from the beginning, and I always knew there would be something, whether it’d be — even for your record deal, putting together tracks or other material that you might wanna put out, or live stuff, or even some footage or film[ed performances] and stuff.

[bokettochild]

Day 4 - Trust Fall

Went with the prompt 'taken hostage' for this one, and I'm quite pleased. I might follow it up from another prompt on the list, but I quite like how it ended.

Suffer :)

There are many people who hate the Hero of Warriors.

It was a well-known fact, and something that had haunted him since the ends of the war, but he couldn’t exactly blame the folks who did. After all, it was for lust of the hero that Cia had killed so many, and there were families all across Hyrule who had lost loved ones because the hero had refused the affections of one lonely, corrupted woman.

Zelda had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that changed nothing; people had still died because of Cia’s lust, and still more had died because of his own over-confidence. So, when he walked the streets of Castletown and the people who wanted to thank him faded to the background as a single soul would stand and spit insults loaded with venom more poisonous than a deku baba, he would take their words and let them speak, never once challenging them, even when his men would protest and beg for permission to reprimand his attacker. Zelda had pleaded for him to stop, claiming that he lowered the moral of the army by not carrying himself strongly and with honor, but how could he rob someone of their voice when he’d already robbed them of everything else?

There was one upside to it all though; when Warriors met Legend, there was nothing the younger hero could say that could truly hurt him. Legend would huff and complain and tease and jab, but his insults were a gentle nudge in comparison to the hearty shoves into boiling lava that he’d seen from his own people, and he welcomed the verbal sparring with the other hero. It was nice to be able to speak back without having guilt rise in his chest, and he enjoyed getting to tease and bother the veteran hero in return.

In that manner, an unlikely friendship had formed between a hero who hated soldiers and a soldier who hated being a hero.

He was close to all of the others of course; Sky, Wild and himself would spend hours discussing their worlds and the systems of knights and training and the like. Time and Wind, his boys and the pride of his heart, would mess around with him and it warmed him body and soul to offer them advice or comfort after a long day (and having the two of them cuddle up when they thought no one was looking was an extra warm bonus on multiple fronts).

Four was- well, there was no words for the relationship he shared with the smithy. It was a relationship of exchanged looks and mutual silence. One of two brothers who knew each other as well as if they’d actually been born to the same mother, and who could read the others actions as if they were reading their thoughts. It was them flopping over each other and Four climbing onto his shoulders to reach things, it was him throwing the smithy bodily up towards high places and leaning on the top of his head when he was drained or feeling playful.

Wild and Hyrule were his baby brothers, the chaotic ones who he was helping to bring up right, the boys who needed a guiding hand and a firm voice to push them and guide them, but who reveled in warm hugs and teasing or encouraging words.

And Twilight? Twilight was his sparring partner, his closest brother and the one he’d probably end up socking in the face one day. There was enough said on that front. Legend very nearly made the same rank, except...

Except Legend was, truth be told, as much a kid as the others and despite their verbal battles, he didn’t think he could actually ever hit the kid for real, no matter how often he cuffed the pink head or pushed the short vet over in jest, he didn’t think he could ever cause the younger hero harm. Yeah, yeah, so maybe it was the big brother and father in him that said he wouldn’t live with himself if he hurt the kid, but it was also the soldier and captain that saw a reflection of every cocky recruit he’d ever trained and a certain mask wearing child in the vet’s painfully rare smiles and much more common snarky comments.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt a kid in the first place.

No matter how much of an ass they were being.

“Seriously though, how have you not died?” Legend was scoffing, but the vet’s arms were wrapped tight around himself as the kid rolled his eyes. “I mean, one bokoblin? How is that the first time an enemy has ever grabbed your scarf?”

Warriors would have laughed it off with a tease about the vet’s lack of leg protection, but he could see the worry shining in violet hues and feel the tender bruising that wrapped around his own neck. He hardly remembered the last battle, adrenalin and the concussion had seen to that, but legend had been weirdly snappish with him since, yet simultaneously clingy in a way that was painfully uncharacteristic of their salty veteran. “Most monsters are just dumb.” He’d shrugged off at last, but Legend hardly looked contented, picking at his tunic and scowling at his boots as if there was something more he wanted to complain about or say, but he lacked the words to say it.

Oh goddesses, the vet really was like Mask, wasn’t he? All bashful worry and fussing disguised as insults and annoyance, but underneath just a kid who desperately needed the assurance that the people around him weren’t seconds away from death.

“I’ll be fine, you grouchy little bumblebee.” He scoffed, tugging at one of the vet’s long ears, just as he did with Time when the now older hero was getting to wrapped up in his head. “We’re in my world anyway and the monsters here are dumber than rocks.” Usually he’d just say ‘dumb as rocks’ but they’d met a talus in Wild’s Hyrule and he couldn’t honestly think of that phrase the same way since.

“Black blood makes them smarter.” Legend huffed, batting his hands away with a scowl, nose wrinkling up in an almost adorable manner as he sidestepped a swipe at his hair. “And I just fixed that thing for you, I don’t want to have to do that again.”

So much like Time had been, did the vet see it? Just like his middle kid and it was messing with his brain in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. How upset would Sky be if he gathered Legend in amongst his boys as well? The Skyloftian wasn’t particularly possessive of his descendants and he might not mind sharing responsibility over the vet. He’d have to ask, but only once he was sure Legend was out of earshot, the kid was barely tolerant of Sky coddling him, and even then, usually only when he was sleepy or scared shitless.

“Are you listening, Captain? I’m not mending that scarf again this week, you ass.” Legend flicked his ears, irritation at being ignored coloring his face with a scowl that quickly faded into surprise as a blue heap of fabric settled over his head and shoulders. Of course, the surprise disappeared too once Legend’s face was covered with the tail end of the scarf, and he had to grab the back of the vet’s tunic to stop him from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over the rocky path.

“What the heck, Wars?!” The teen squeaked, fumbling with the fabric as the captain let a laugh rumble up through his chest into his throat.

“You keep fussing about the scarf, yeah? Well,” He reached out to tug the loose end down, chest thrumming with warmth as the pout on Legend’s face beneath the scarf and a fierce blush. “So how about you keep it safe for me, just for a bit.” He shifted the fabric again, arranging it to lay better around the veteran’s thin shoulders. “You can give it back after the next battle, yeah? Then you’ll know it’s not damaged.”

The pink-haired hero rolled his eyes at that comment, but Wars didn’t miss how the kid nestled in amidst the blue fabric with a soft hum.

Oh yeah, despite all the teasing, it was clear Legend liked the scarf as much as his other boys. He hoped Sun and Sky didn’t mind sharing too much, because there was no going back now.

“Dramatic arse.” Legend huffed, but despite the vet tugging the scarf up over his nose and mouth he still saw the grin the lay beneath.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Time and Wind exchanging whispers while Twilight grumbled something exceedingly rude and fond all at once.

“Should we split up to find supplies then?” Sky asked, pointedly ignoring Twilight’s comment as he addressed the group as a whole, earning a thoughtful nod from Time.

“Probably best.” The man hummed out. “Groups of three, Hyrule and Wind, you’re with the vet, Four and Sky, you’re with Wars, Cub, Pup, I want you two with me, if something happens I want a responsible adult on every team, as well as someone who knows this Castletown well.”

Agreement thrummed over them as they split up, Wind catching his party members by their hands and pulling them off towards the tailor and apothecary shops so Legend could restock on thread and fabric and Hyrule could gather more healing supplies. Time’s group turned the opposite way, heading off into the main market square so Wild could restock on food stuffs and a new haversack for the traveler as Hyrule’s had had a hole worn in the corner that even Four doubted he could fix. Warriors himself led his team towards the fletchers and the forge, with the intent of buying more arrows and getting Four permission to repair a few of their weapons.

The chatter of the town was cheerier than usual, and to his surprise, not a single person spoke to him beyond the occasional inquiry about directions or an apology or insult after bumping into them. It was like he was invisible, or very nearly, and even those who made a point of calling out thanks or insults only waved cheerily to him as if he was just another passing soldier.

At the smithy, the Master Smithy, Gaepak, blinked in surprise for a good minute when Wars had approached to ask for use of the workroom. “Gen’ral? Is ‘at yew?”

He cocked a brow at the question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Gaepak boomed a nervous laugh, motioning to his own short neck with a faint flush on his face as his ears twitched lightly. “’Ard to tell you apart from yer men wit’out that scaaf of yers.” The man apologized, and the apprentice at the blacksmith’s side nodded nervously.

He couldn’t help back slip into a disarming smile (although he had to fight not to slip into their heavy accent as well when he spoke). “Quite alright, gentlemen. I’ve just let it out to one of-”

“Yer boys.” the smith nodded knowingly, earning a snigger from their own short-statured smithy and a light chuckle from Sky.

Warriors flushed slightly. Really, the people of Castletown knew him too well. “Yes, one of my boys.”

“An’ a moighty fine father ye are.” Gaepak drawled with a grin. “Use the forge ta yer ‘eart’s content.” The smith added, moving back to his own workstation with a cheery wink. “Jist moind ye clean it up when ya done.”

Four had shouted something of a reassurance before moving to the offered work station with shining hazel eyes and fingers already flitting over the available tools to familiarize himself with them. In the meantime, Sky had shot him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling as the captain had flushed softly.

Four was deep into his work and the two of them had already finished a lengthily talk and a trip to the fletchers when Wind and Hyrule had burst in, heavy breaths heaving through the two and a healthy flush over two sets of rounded cheeks as wild eyes had turned to the two adults.

“Wind, you can’t bust into a forge! Four shouted over the clang of metal. “It’s dang-”

“Legend was kidnapped.” Wind blurted out, voice strained and barely holding onto the collected and controlled report method Warriors had drilled into all of his soldiers during the war.   Four’s hammer froze mid-air as the three had whipped around to face the two younger heroes, both knights stiffening instinctively as all laughter left their faces.

“What happened.” Warriors demanded, stepping forwards, jaw set and eyes hard as he met the sailor’s wavering gaze.

The aura of peace faded in instants, and soldier met the eyes of soldier as Wind snapped a neat salute. Unnecessary, yes, but trained into the kid by the other soldiers and probably a comforting sort of habit to revert to in the moment (Warriors felt the same about standing at parade rest as he listened to the kid’s report). “We were just entering the apothecary when a couple of folks approached Legend outside the door. He waved us inside to do our business while they talked, and Hyrule and I did as he asked. We gathered the needed supplies- that doesn’t matter though- the point is, when we were at the counter ringing up-”

“There was shouting outside!” Hyrule interrupted, fingering the strap of his faded satchel. “We thought it was just Legend being Legend, you know how he is but-”

“But then there was something of a scuffle and some bangin-”

“- and when we finished at the counter, because the man wouldn’t hurry up and refused to let us leave ‘till we’d been rung up-”

“Legend was gone!” Wind exploded, eyes shining with near panic as they met his own.

“Where were you exactly?” Wars demanded, mind already flitting across the list of people who were likely to have taken the vet. There weren’t many people the kid would have interacted with here, especially not alone, and saving the soldiers he’d accidentally embarrassed a couple of switches back (kid needed to wear some pants if he didn’t want to mistook for a girl) there wasn’t anyone he could really think of that would have cause to try anything. Sure, Legend’s winning personality might earn him a blow to the face from some of the rowdier townsfolk, but at worst he’d be left on the street on in an alley with a bruised face and a fractured rib or two, not taken away entirely.

As he considered, Four was already tidying up behind him only to have Gaepak wave them off with a worried look. “Moi boys will see to this ‘ere mess, don’t botha. Yew got a kid missin’ you go fetch ‘im, goodness knows Gen’ral that yew don’t need to be suff’rin’ that again.”

It was a bitter reminder, but he’d nodded his thanks all the same and grabbed ahold of Wind’s hand as he led the charge back into the street, Hyrule and Sky tagging along as Four made arrangements to come back later for the still cooling weapons before scampering out after them.

Searching Castletown’s streets would take hours, but after they’d run into one of his men, Bav, he’d filled the soldier in on the situation, and hardly had the words ‘my kid’ been out of his mouth before the other was nodding and agreeing to get the rest of the squadron to search the town. They’d found the others not long after, and the trio had dropped everything (even Wild’s slate for a hot second) to come rushing after them, their now two groups weaving in and out of alleyways and streets.

“Your wife?” A painfully familiar farm-wife had tutted. “First your poor daughter and now your poor wife. I’m sorry, luv, but I haven’t seen a thing.” Wind had crooked a smile at the groan Warriors had barely stifled as he led their group away, Sky and Hyrule both staring at the duo in confusion as they pressed further into the crowd.

Continued asking had brought up nothing, and after hours of trotting through the streets in a growing panic, Sky at his side and Hyrule nearly fluttering along with them, they’d finally been pulled aside by one of the soldiers and made to sit down in a guard-station long enough to drink some water and be caught up on the soldiers’ findings.

“Nothing yet, General Link, but we’ll keep looking. Until then, you should take a rest-” He’d moved to protest only to be cut off by a frown from one of his mates. “You’ll be run ragged by the time we hear word, and if the scamps intend harm of any sort, you’ll be in no state to help.”

He’d had to agree after that, but it hadn’t stopped him pacing while Sky held the other two close, rocking them softly and humming soft reassurances to the two smaller heroes that he’d bundled in his cape. The other four joined shortly after, Time demanding that Bav tell him what was happening and Twilight bundling over to grab Hyrule from Sky and curl up around him, the rancher’s nose buried in Hyrule’s curls as Four had settled between him and Sky, the smithies callused hands gently rubbing both their arms as he murmured soft reassurances to the others.

It was Wild that pulled him down to rest, flinty blue eyes sparking dangerously as the kid pulled him down to the ground and thrust something edible into his hands. Vaguely, he processed eating it, but his mind was too lost in spinning to take note if it was hot or cold or even what it tasted like.

When word finally came, it was with Bav’s face drawn and the entire guard having had to leave the post in wake of the nervous energy that flowed out from the exhausted heroes.

“Well?” He’d snapped to his feet, jostling Wild on accident as he did so and making the kid nearly toppled over with his sudden movement.

“An ultimatum, General.” Bav replied, clipped and carefully emotionless, even if there was pain in his eyes. “It’s addressed to General Impa, but-”

The note was snatched from waiting fingers before the other soldier had a chance to finish, and he was already breaking the seal as the man stepped back with a shake of his head and a murmured ‘poor man’.

The text that stared up at him stank, copper assaulting his senses as looping crimson script stared mockingly up at him. “General Impa,” The note read. “We have in our possession your branded puppet; the ‘hero’ of the war. We write to you now with a warning; should Hyrule and her queen not repay the debt owed to those fallen and forgotten, he will not be the first to pay the price.

“Repay that which is due, and release the prisoners who you hold unjustly under the claim of treachery. If this is done, your ‘hero’ will meet a kinder fate, and we may even allow you access to the corpse.”

The note was left unsigned, save a spattering of blood over where the signature ought to have been.

“A threat.” He choked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “It’s only a threat.”

“I wish, sir.” Bav’s eyes were downcast. “But they sent this as well.” A bundle, already unwrapped by the soldiers was offered to him. “But based on your description, that kid- I'm sorry, Sir.”

Trembling fingers tore aside the stained brown paper as he stared at the contents within.

A blood-soaked blue scarf stared back up at him.