#hoo boy this one's a doozy

[lordsardine]

.

[rexscanonwife]

Also never ended up posting this drawing I did! You may remember my Inquisitor!Brea AU but may I interest you in Inquisitor!Kepler...? 0_0

My awesome best friend made the design here and we've been discussing some of the events of the AU that I gotta talk about here sometime and draw more stuff for but essentially instead of being killed during order 66, he's kept alive and made an Inquisitor while Darth Vader stokes the flames of vengeance in his heart at being abandoned by his master :]

[lustbcrne]

Sexual Traits - Kaeya

Tagged by: Stolen off le Dash​ Tagging: If you want it? TAKE IT

bold - applies always. italic - applies sometimes. Striked = personal notes, can be removed (anything in ‘extra’ can be removed, too)

inclinations/habits:

is submissive | is dominant | prefers to top | prefers to bottom | likes to switch | identifies as heterosexual | identifies as homosexual | identifies as bisexual | identifies as pansexual | identifies as demisexual | identifies as asexual | enjoys sex with men | enjoys sex with women | enjoys sex with multiple people at one time  | initiates (when he’s most comfortable/more confident) | waits for a partner to initiate (at the start of a relationship) | spits | swallows | prefers sex in the morning | prefers sex at night | prefers sex any time | no sex drive | low sex drive | average sex drive | high sex drive | hypersexual

Extra - He usually prefers to top or at the very least hold a power bottom role during sex because he likes feeling in control of himself and the situation overall out of comfort. He'll relinquish the reins to his partner if he sees they prefer it and/or he is trying to get on their good side, but for the most part, he likes being in the more dominant role. A partner who's built enough trust with him makes it easier for him when they want to take charge.

       Initiating usually involves him playfully testing the waters with the person in question; baiting, teasing and tempting them until they themself close the distance–this way, he can play off any desires on his part with plausible deniability. In a relationship, he tends to hold himself back a lot at first bc he doesn't want to overwhelm his partner with how much he wants them, esp with the extent of his own urges overall. If his partner gives the okay that he's free to initiate whenever, he WILL run with it. Meaning more frequent touches and flirting to distract them, teasing his partner to stir them up on whims, stealing and wearing nothing but their shirts around their place, the works, until he either gets what he wants or they tell him to curb it back. It is admittedly a mix of both desire for them and lingering self-destructive habit he's built up over the years, but the more secure in a relationship he is, it would tend to lean to the former. That said...

       ...even outside his genuine high sex drive, he's quite accustomed to having frequent sex to the point of being quite the regular at the Church for checkups after the fact, using it as a transaction/reward in exchange for info from choice contacts who've requested it of him/he himself offered it to, to stave off boredom & especially loneliness ( low-key takes rejection at these times rather hard ), to fight stress ( esp if he hadn't been able to drink in awhile ), to relieve pain ( chronic, emotional/dysphoric, or acquired on the job )/anxiety surges he gets, or rid himself of excess energy after a Dangerous Situation. It became one of his biggest coping mechanisms and means to an end in one shortly after becoming Cavalry Captain, when he realized just how many people had eyes on him/regarded him as quite the pretty face, and how much more favorably they acted towards him when he playfully humored advances. How much they were willing to give him in return for his time and favors he could do. He admittedly disliked it all at first because he had no idea what he was doing and kept getting roped into things he wasn't entirely comfortable with, but the more used to the arrangements he got, the more he figured out his likes/dislikes & how to manage more uncomfortable encounters, the more he grew to genuinely love sex, even like this. He also quickly took up making a habit of gathering blackmail on potential/current partners as a means to ensure these encounters remain on the down low–he has to protect his and the Knights' ( and in a way, the Ragnvindr family's ) reputations, after all. Though he would never use it to coerce partners into anything otherwise, only ever to ensure they don't try to take advantage of him like some people at the start did. If worse comes to worst, he has and still takes measures to get rid of any person trying to take advantage of him/their arrangement or otherwise going too damn far with him.

body/appearance:

small build | medium build | athletic build | muscular build | curvy build | voluptuous build | wears boxer/briefs | wears lingerie | goes ‘commando’ | shaves/waxes | doesn’t shave/wax | cup size a-c | cup size d-f | 1-5" in length | 6-9" in length | 10" or over in length

Extra - Is AFAB trans male, has considered phalloplasty, but he likes his body as is, even if dysphoria does tend to flare up more often than not. Would consider it actually going through with it if a long-term partner would want him too. He is comfortable being referred to by either male, feminine or neutral terms, though he does prefer male ones more. He has a mole just under his ass on his right leg, and various old burn scars on his right shoulder, upper arm, part of his face and on his left arm–his left arm has the worst of the lot ( barring his right eye ) and requires a brace to help with some movement. There are a couple faded scars here and there from old injuries, and a very faded few from stab and gunshot wounds he'd taken over the years that he's clumsily patched up himself to avoid heading to the Church.

       He has had top surgery sometime shortly after Crepus' death, just to reduce his chest to a more comfortable size/shape now that he was more independent and was encouraged to make more of his own decisions. He considered doing more, but he also recognized that was a feature of himself many really liked to see, and thus still flaunts it with his infamous low necklines. He's even a little vain about his chest when it's actively pointed out. ( self-harm ment ) His surgery scars are double incision that somewhat resemble claw marks because he ended up actually carving them worse in a very panicked, Visceral negative reaction after he first saw them after he'd gone home post-op. Had a moment of further panic when he finally snapped back into himself and saw the mess, then deliberately cut more to adjust them into looking a little more 'aesthetically pleasing' to himself before cleaning up the scene. He didn't go to the Church for help patching up again or let Adelinde know what actually happened bc he feared getting yelled at over it. Got yelled at anyways by Adelinde, Elzer, Jean, Varka, and the church staff because he agitated the wounds badly when he tried to get back to work earlier than recommended. ( end ) The scars aren't as faded as they should to have been because he took too long to get them properly treated and a little from lack of proper care overall in spite of Adelinde's best efforts to help, though they have still since dulled decently enough with time. He tends to deflect hard when asked about them in general.

turn-ons/kinks:

having their hands pinned | pinning their partner’s hands | having their ears pulled | pulling their partner’s ears | being watched (by their partner) | being watched (by a third party) | watching their partner | receiving oral | giving oral | calling their partner ‘daddy’ | being called ‘daddy’ /’mummy’ | giving praise | receiving praise | biting/marking | being bitten/marked | spanking | being spanked | teasing | being teased | having toys used on them | using toys on their partner | giving anal | receiving anal | choking | being choked | dirty talk | being tied up | tying their partner up | being worshipped | worshipping their partner | humiliating | being humiliated | degrading | being degraded | knife play | blood play | being pegged | pegging

Extra - Guaranteed, he loves displaying himself ( though not entirely unclothed ) for his partners during foreplay and make outs, or even deliberately getting himself off in a way where they're sure to catch him in the act–because he knows just how pretty people find him, scars and all ( though tends to like wearing his own/his partner's clothes over himself on more dysphoric days ). But when it comes to actual sex, if he's the one being penetrated, he strongly prefers being taken from behind & facing away from his partners, be it being pinned under them ( if that's what they prefer ) or in reverse cowgirl ( his most preferred position ), etc. Unless he is completely comfortable with his partner, in which case, he'll let them take him from the front/facing them. If he's got the chance to peg his partner, he likes it missionary the most, eager to watch their every reaction with great delight. Or with them facedown, face pushed against the mattress/surface they're on as he fucks into them. Especially if he's able to cage them in and croon things to them as he moves.

       Has sadomasochistic tendencies. He definitely loves pain during sex, especially being on the receiving end of it–biting, scratching, spanking, knifeplay, name it, he'll allow it, so long as the marks aren't so easy to see like on his chest or neck. Is just as happy to indulge his partner if they're into it too, though always carefully measuring their limits. Is a HUGE fan of overstimulating his partners and especially using Visions during sex, but would actually LOATHE feeling any Pyro on him unless he Explicitly tells the person he trusts them & is given ample warning it will happen before they start. Any heat-based play in general is a hard no, unless he has that extreme trust in the person. Or is going through a particularly self-destructive spiral, but that is easy to spot once you know him well enough. Overall, sex that really ups his adrenaline levels in some way is the best in his eyes, especially since it help takes his mind of things and especially his usual touch aversion. Gentler sex tends to make him feel a lot more vulnerable, to the point where he's actually more likely to cry from being overwhelmed than he would if he were knocked around and hurt during sex ( esp considering he's entirely unused to it at ALL ). Has indulged in more extreme fear plays with past partners ( gun play, asphyxiation, kidnapping, interrogation-based consensual nonconsent, etc ), found certain delight in them too, but prefers anything like that to be properly negotiated some time beforehand, unless the person is okay with actually having to fight him a little before he realizes what they're doing & starts playing along. His safeword is Valberry, but also tends to follow equivalent of the stoplight colors system. He is okay indulging most any kink his partner wants at least once, esp bc he likes the idea of discovering a new one for himself.

       Loves, loves, LOVES being degraded and being called names, though ones themed after royalty, 'young master', or using his Captain title are a surefire way to anger him. Either making him stop altogether ( particularly the former two ) or making him extremely ornery and spiteful that his partner's gotta get a firm hand on him to bring him back around if they want to continue. As long as the humiliation/insults given to him don't mention his body type/appearance in a negative way, he's a-ok for damn near anything else though, even being referred to as a girl ( actually finds it funny whenever he is and might even taunt them for it ). HOWEVER if he's being called cute/loving pet names during a rougher fuck, he flusters up and falls apart much faster. He does have very particular names he likes most, but those he leaves his partners to discover on their own. And yes, he does reward them each time one is stumbled on.

       Usually neglects aftercare for himself outside of a relationship, sometimes during one. Will tend to his partners for theirs as much as they're willing then be right on his way. In a relationship, he goes above and beyond with aftercare for his partners, regardless of how rough the sex was on them or who topped/bottomed. Prepping baths, fetching them water or a quick bite, checking in with them, massages, administering first aid where needed, the works, no matter how sore he himself may be. He won't make any moves to ask for anything for himself from them, rather will simply partake in whatever he can share with his partner like snacks or bathing with them. Anything else, his partner would have to bring up or take initiative to treat him to.

sounds:

is silent/makes little to no sounds | is very quiet | is very loud | grows in volume over time | bites hand/partner/pillow to muffle themselves | calls out partner’s name | curses | fakes/exaggerates | prefers a quiet partner | prefers a loud partner | is turned on by dirty talk | is turned off by dirty talk

Extra - He doesn't tend to muffle up his voice during, especially if he wants to get caught by somebody ( most often like when he’s getting himself off while his partner’s nearby ). He's unabashed with his voice during sex, purring and crooning about how good it feels, how good they are being for him, pitching and trembling, all to look good for them. If he starts trying to stifle his voice behind a hand, chances are it's because he wants to hear his partner plead and encourage him to get louder, particularly because he knows there’s a chance he’ll get praise out of it if he does. That, and he gets off on hearing his partner beg or demand things of him. Or he's trying to rile them up so they can knock him around some, that too. Tends to babble breathlessly when he's close to his own climax, spilling near incoherent curses and pleas before a drawn out whine finally leaves him.

       He doesn't tend to beg, but will get whiny and do so if his partner keeps teasing him or they hold back their own voice, even after he tries to encourage them. Will throw all dignity out the window if it means he can hear how good they feel, no matter how pathetic he's gotta make himself to have it. Loves hearing every crack and hitch of their voices, any growls and gasps that pass through their lips. Praises will drip from his own like honey each and every time his partner's voice gets louder or a particularly delightful sound leaves them. Notably, they could easily shock the brat out of him ( in a good way ) if they snarl right in his ear for him to behave, or near any other sort of dirty talk, especially the more possessive and domineering it is.

[one-winged-dreams]

When they get a chance during a lull in Scion activities, Estinien approaches Urianger and asks: I'm looking for inspiration, or guidance, for writing a love letter, and you seem like you'd make a good example; you and Adri suit each other well. If you were writing that sort of letter for him, what would you put in it? What would you say you love most about him?

"Ah, Ser Estinien, a pleasure to receive thy company. A love letter, thou sayest? Ah-"

A blush rises to his cheeks at the compliment, and he averts his gaze for a moment.

"Thou art... Too kind. Though, one can't help but wonder if one's personal thoughts wouldst be befitting of another's inspiration... Regardless, I will do my best in hopes that it might... Prove... Inspirational."

He's flustered, but he clears his throat and thinks for a moment.

"My dearest Starlight. There is no greater blessing on this star than to be graced by thy presence, to savor thine company within my heart until we are next fated to meet. That fortune wouldst smile upon mine uneasy soul and chance wouldst bring thee to me, there is truly no gift in comparison. It is all I can do but count the moments until I see thy fair and ethereal visage come to return, and it is then when I feel most graced by every star within night's vast expanse. For it is when thou smilest upon me that I feel what it means to love and be loved."

He blinks, realizing he went off on one of those tangents again, clearing his throat.

"Or... SOMETHING to that degree, at any rate. I... Hope that was of help."

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ ch 6

note: hoo boy, this one's a doozy. didn't mean to project so hard with this one, but fuck it we ball ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 5.3k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you reach a breaking point with simon, and he finally realises what he needs to do to fix things.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, some light violence, ghost finally getting his shit together, arguing, kitchen floor romance, fluff

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

simon didn't see you at home. in fact, he found out from soap that you went straight to the pub with him and the others. you didn't even drop your car off, which meant you weren't going to get drunk, you were going to avoid him.

it stung – a feeling he’s become quite familiar with lately. but you wanted him to leave you alone, to give you space, and seeing as he had no idea what else to do, he would oblige.

he sits at the kitchen table, across from the chair that's become yours through some unspoken agreement. a random book is in his hands – an attempt to keep himself occupied, but he's been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes and he hasn't absorbed a single word. you are the only thing on his mind, no matter how hard he concentrates on what's in front of him.

slamming his book shut with a frustrated grunt, he gives in to the fact that he's not going to be able to do anything meaningful until you get home. perhaps trying to talk now that you'd be alone would work out better than his previous attempts.

he intends to go straight up to his room when he leaves the kitchen, but for some reason simon finds himself standing outside the door to your room, peering into the darkness through the gap where you'd left it ajar.

he shouldn't go in, he knows that. from the start he'd promised himself to give you complete privacy – he hadn't even set foot in the living room since you'd moved in, apart from the times he brought you hot chocolate and put you to bed. it was the least he could do, offer you a space to call your own, since you really didn’t have much else.

but simon missed you; he missed being near you, the scent of your shampoo and the laundry detergent you use, just basking in your presence. he wouldn't touch anything, he rationalised, he just wanted to be surrounded by something that was you.

it’s dark, but he doesn't even bother to turn the light on, the hall light through the door illuminates the room enough for him to see where he's going. the armchair on the far side of the room is unoccupied, so he collapses there with a deep exhale.

the solitude must be driving him insane, because when he closes his eyes he can almost convince himself that you’re there with him, sitting across from him with one of his books in your hands. the disappointment that washes over him when he opens his eyes to be alone again isn’t rational, but knowing that still doesn’t dull the ache.

on the mantle, he notices something definitely not left there by him; first, he spots the flowers he gave you, a little wilted and slightly squashed, sitting in a vase that was here when he moved in. he feels a fleeting sense of relief at that, he wouldn't have been surprised if you'd thrown them straight in the bin.

but more interestingly, there's a photo frame, something simon owns exactly zero of, so it must be something of yours. he stands up, his curiosity getting the better of him, and takes the frame gently in his hand. tilting it into the light so the photo is visible, he feels a faint smile tugging at his lips at the sight of a younger you surrounded by your previous team.

you’re grinning widely, making bunny ears behind one of your teammates crouched in front of you, while someone behind does the same to you. as his eyes follow their arm to their face, poking out just above your head, he feels a sharp frown pull at his brows.

it’s anderson.

simon blinks a few times, in the hopes the he was simply imagining things – that his hatred for the man and lack of a good night's sleep was causing him to see things, but no matter how many times he looked away and back again, anderson’s face refused to change.

the urge to smash the photo builds up like steadily boiling water the longer he stares at it, so he places it back on the mantle before it gets too strong. why was he just now finding out you used to work with anderson? it explained why he was so overly familiar with you. was that why you liked him more? you had to be close with him – closer than simon was with you.

were you… involved with him?

the very thought makes his heart sink like a stone. his head feels light as he stumbles back out of your room, the acidic taste of bile rising in his throat.

not a moment after the door clicks shut, simon feels his phone buzz in his pocket, pushing his spiralling train of thought to the back of his mind. he pulls it out, the screen lit up with johnny's name on the caller id, but he doesn't want to answer it.

he lets it ring until the missed call notification appears instead. expecting that to be it, simon moves to shove his phone back in his pocket, but it buzzes again before he can get there.

it's a text this time – more of them coming through before he's had time to read the first. with a tired exhale, he opens the messages from johnny.

you coming pub? 20:23 pm

you should 20:23 pm

sting is here ;) 20:24 pm

no. 20:25 pm

why notttttttt 20:25 pm

cmon just get down here 20:25 pm

seriously i think you should come we need you 20:26

fine. 20:28 pm

let's fucking go 20:28 pm

better run tho be quick 20:28 pm

simon breathes a sigh of exasperation, but grabs his jacket off the hook. he doesn't even bother to change his balaclava for a more socially acceptable mask. whatever johnny's reasoning was for getting him to come to the pub, he was secretly grateful for the excuse to go out and see you – whether he would actually get to talk to you or simply watch you from the sidelines.

✹✹✹

slipping in quietly through the side entrance, simon is relieved to find the pub not nearly as rowdy as it is normally. it seems to be only the one-four-one and their associate unit mixed in with the locals, rather than being packed with soldiers like usual.

immediately he spots price, taking up a booth in the far corner, who raises a hand in greeting to him but otherwise stays put. the gesture draws johnny and gaz's attention to him, both of whom give him enthusiastic waves of their own.

he doesn't see you with them, which prompts him to scour the rest of the pub as he trudges over to his comrades. it doesn't take him long to find you over by the bar, though when he spots anderson unnecessarily close to you, he feels like his heart might just stop.

now that he knows you and him have history, simon feels a pit of hopelessness in his chest that he knows won't ever go away as long as he has to see you be happy with someone else.

it should be me, he thinks, a bitter downturn to his lips under his mask. 

"why am i here?" he grumbles when he finally makes it to the booth, choosing to stay standing at the end of the table rather than sitting down with them.

"because you need'ta sort out this thing between you and sting." johnny replies, pushing himself up to stand next to simon and giving his shoulder a firm pat.

simon rolls his eyes to hide the way soap’s words make him flinch. "i've tried. they won't listen to me." he mumbles. he sees price shake his head in a show of disappointment, which only makes him feel even worse about the whole situation. aside from you, the captain’s been the hardest on him for the way he fucked things up, and while the sergeants clearly think he's an idiot, they've done their best to support him.

"then make them listen!" gaz exclaims, "explain yourself, tell them you'd do anything for them," he gestures one hand to where you’re standing at the bar, "tell them you love them!"

"i don't–" he begins to protest as he follows gaz’s hand, but the words die on his tongue when his eyes land on you; the dim lighting of the pub illuminates the way you smile so pleasantly, simon’s heart skips a beat. turning away from you before he becomes too entranced, he shoots gaz a light glare. "keep your voice down…"

"just tell them, l.t." gaz has an easy, knowing smile on his face when he meets simon’s eyes. looking between him and johnny, who wears a similar expression, he lets out a tired sigh.

"you’re a pain in my arse, both of you." he grumbles, massaging the creases in his forehead over the fabric of his mask.

"you're gonna do it, right?" soap grins from behind his pint, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that has simon groaning, but nodding nonetheless. "good lad, i knew you had it in ya!" soap claps him on the back once more before taking his seat again.

before any of them can bother him further, the sound of raised voices reaches their ears from the bar. not loud enough to hear what they're saying, but enough to know that there's a problem.

he's not sure what he's expecting when he turns around; but seeing you pushing a very drunk anderson’s arm off your shoulder with a scowl on your face, simon finds himself stalking over to you before he can even think about it.

"c'mon, we're good together, we have history!" anderson's words are slurred, leaving no mystery as to just how drunk he is. he leans further into your personal space, and simon watches your face scrunch up as you lean away, placing your hand on anderson’s chest to keep him at bay. "you're not seriously into that freak, are you? with that creepy fuckin' mask?"

that makes simon pause. he wanted to rip anderson away from you – of course he did – but he also wanted to hear your response, whether you would denounce him or not.

"oi!" you exclaim, an incredulous tone to your voice. "he is not a freak, don't be so rude!"

the way you defend him makes his heart swell. you also didn't deny what anderson said, and though he knows it's arrogant of him, simon still holds out hope that you don't truly hate him.

with the tiniest smirk under his mask, simon closes the distance, coming to stand at your side between you and anderson.

"sting." he addresses you, meeting your eyes and completely ignoring the annoyed mumbling from the idiot on his other side. "you alright?"

the look you give him is one of surprise and relief, but you don't get to say a single word before anderson is pushing simon's shoulder so they're facing each other.

"lieu‐lieutenant ghost, fancy seein' you here," anderson is clearly annoyed at his intrusion, poking a finger into his chest that gets slapped away just as quickly. "come to show everyone how big 'n tough you are, eh?"

"andy, stop it." you hiss, pushing him back again and stepping between him and simon.

anderson scoffs at you. "why should i? we're not at work, he can't do anything, he's just some random loser." he glares up at simon, a pitiful attempt at intimidation he knows he wouldn't dream of trying if he was sober.

"give it a rest, sergeant." simon grumbles, rolling his eyes at the way anderson puffs his chest out and stands up straighter. 

"y'know, sting was right, you're a huge fuckin' arsehole," anderson spits, ignoring the way you try to keep him away when he steps around you be face to face with simon again. "can't blame 'em for not wantin' to put up with you anymore."

simon flinches ever so slightly at that, but thankfully anderson is too drunk to notice.

"that's enough." he growls, his nails digging painfully into his palms.

"no, no! what th'fuck is your problem, man?" anderson shouts, shoving simon's chest – which doesn't move him, but pisses him off anyway. "you think you're so much better than me, but you hide your ugly mug behind that fuckin' mask like a pussy!" his raised voice draws the attention of the other patrons, and an uneasy silence falls over the room as the background chatter halts.

"just fuckin' shut up," simon rolls his eyes again, shifting his gaze over to you and jerking his head in a gesture for you to move. "c'mon."

"and don't even get me started on sting!" anderson continues, pointing a swaying finger in your face which gets slapped away the same as before. "you're so obsessed with them, it's creepy as shit, everyone knows it!"

"i'm not–"

"they must be a fuckin' freak n'all, to be into you, you're both fucked in the head–"

"watch your fuckin' mouth." simon spits, taking the front of anderson's shirt roughly in his fist. he could insult simon until his last breath, but to drag your name into this ignited the flame of real anger in his chest.

"ghost, let's just go." you grasp his wrist, the one holding anderson, and perhaps if simon could focus on anything other than the smug little bastard he's moments away from punching, he might’ve felt the warmth that your touch brought him.

"–that's why they have go to the bloody psy-psychiatrist all the time, they're fuckin' mental–" the moment the words left anderson’s mouth, simon feels every sliver of restraint he had immediately leave his body; the only sound he can hear is the rushing of blood in his ears as his face twists in rage.

"shut the fuck up." he seethes, rearing his free arm back to throw possibly the most satisfying hit of his life; but before he can land it, his arm is immobilised he’s being yanked away from the sergeant.

suddenly price is in his face with a more than disapproving frown, walking him backwards with a firm hand on his shoulder. "get a hold of yourself!" he yells, commanding and abrasive.

simon grunts and pulls price's hand off of him, leaning around the captain just in time to see you deliver a fierce slap to anderson’s face that resonates in the quiet of the room.

anderson’s head whips to the side with the blow, the shell-shocked expression displaying the clear bruise forming on his cheek and his ego. simon had to admit, the sight of that prick with a bright red handprint on his cheek was incredibly gratifying.

"don't fucking talk about me like that." you spit at him, the most intense glare he's ever seen on you creasing your features. simon notices the way it softens when your eyes meet his, as johnny pushes you away from anderson – who's still reeling from the hit, but nobody bothers to take care of him.

he can't take his eyes off of you. it's like the rest of the world has just faded away and you're the only other person left, because right now, you're the only person that matters.

its drizzling by the time you drag him out by the arm. the damp air has a somewhat sobering effect on him as he allows you to pull him along with you.

"i could’ve handled that." you mutter angrily over your shoulder. you're taking him in the direction of the car park, the orange glow of the lamp posts casting shadows on your irritated expression that he finds himself admiring like fine art.

"i'd do it again." simon replies, still having never once taken his eyes off of your form. when you let go of his arm, having arrived at your car, he immediately feels the absence of your touch. he watches you walk around to the driver's side, meeting his eyes over the car and pausing in your tracks.

you hold his gaze for a moment, before looking down and shaking your head.

"just get in the fucking car." you mutter, opening the driver’s side door and disappearing from his sight. he follows suit without question, the car shifting under his weight as he settles into the passenger seat.

you pull out of the car park without another word, your face hard as you pointedly ignore his eyes on you. the silence between is thick, without even the white noise of the radio to break it.

in some way, simon’s glad you chose him over anderson, that you're driving him home rather than taking the side of that idiot. but, then again, he remembers the history the two of you must have, and he feels mildly guilty for potentially breaking up a long-term friendship of yours. not too guilty, though; the guy was a certified dickhead.

when the tension becomes too much, he decides to ask the only question that's been circling his mind like a vulture since he laid eyes on your photo.

"you know him." simon mutters. it's more of a statement than a question, really. "i saw the picture."

he sees your eyes narrow, his own still locked on your profile as you face the road. "you went through my stuff?" you reply, a small frown pulling at your brows.

"no, i just saw the picture." for a moment, he’s afraid he’d unintentionally started another argument, but his words only evoke a deeply exhausted sigh from you.

"he's just one of my old teammates." you reply, the sadness in your voice tugging at simon’s heartstrings. "i thought he was my friend, but obviously i'm not a very good judge of character, am i?"

perhaps that was a dig aimed at simon too, but he can only really focus on how disappointed you sound.

"it’s not your fault. he’s just a twat." he attempts to reassure you, to hopefully make you feel better, but he can't tell how successful it was.

"i know that now, i just–" you huff, cutting yourself off as you pull up outside home. you shut off the engine, massaging your temples with the same frown still on your face. he's tempted to say something more, but no words come to him.

"nevermind, i don't even wanna think about it." you sigh, quickly getting out of the car and slamming the door behind you. he follows behind, the lights of your car flashing as you lock it, illuminating the way your shoulders are slumped as you disappear into the house.

simon figures you'll want time to cool off after what happened, perhaps a cold cloth for your hand that's undoubtedly stinging after such a powerful hit. the memory is enough to make him smile lightly, a feeling of pride blooming in his chest for you.

he creeps upstairs on autopilot, his gaze lingering on the closed door to your room as he passes by.

it's still quite early in the night, so he's not surprised when he hears your door open and shut again downstairs – you going to sit in the kitchen, he assumes.

he wanted to talk with you alone, without the threat of anderson interrupting him again – and now is as good a time as any.

you're sitting at the kitchen table with your laptop open on some real estate site when he shuffles into the room. he stands in the doorway, watching as you continue sifting through nearby flat listings without looking over to him.

neither of you speak. you're not willing to break the silence first, and neither is he.

for a moment, simon just stands there, staring at you. he can see you watching him from the corner of your eye from where he shifting uncomfortably by the door. he half expects you to tell him to piss off, but to his surprise, you stay quiet. taking your silence as a sign that you aren’t, in fact, revolted by his presence, he inches closer and closer to you until he's standing directly next to where you're sitting.

still, neither of you say a word.

a minute or two passes with him looming over you, watching as you scroll through page after page of available flats, a shadowy figure in your peripheral.

eventually you find a reasonably priced listing, and when you click it, only then does ghost speak up.

"you don't need to leave." he says, cringing under his mask at the sound of his voice. he hopes you don’t pick up on how pathetic he sounds. "you already have a house."

"what? what are you talking about?" your eyes remain locked on your screen as you reply, voice flat and disinterested.

simon releases a shaky sigh, his nerve quickly faltering the longer you continue to ignore him. there's a brief pause as you inspect the words on your screen, before simon brings his hand up behind your laptop and firmly closes it. with an annoyed huff you finally look at him, piercing him with a narrow glare.

"you live here." he murmurs, staring intently back at you, fighting with himself to keep his expression neutral, to stay strong.

with me. the unspoken words hang heavy in the air.

"i can't stay here, there's only one bed for christ's sake." you grumble, brow furrowed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. "my back can't handle sleeping on that sofa forever."

"then sleep in my bed." there’s no hesitation in his words; he would gladly sleep on the lumpy sofa-bed if it meant you would be more comfortable – if it meant you would stay. the sound of your chair scraping the floor echoes in the stillness of the kitchen as you stand up, to be closer to eye level with him. 

"oh what, and leave you on the sofa? in your own home?" you scoff, shaking your head as you step around him.

"well, yeah. you– i…" he reaches a hand out to touch you, stopping himself just above your elbow before he pulls back. the gesture stops you in your tracks, drawing your gaze back to his eyes. "don't leave." he murmurs, just above a whisper.

your mouth opens to respond, but his words catch you completely off guard. your eyes flit down, and he knows you can see the way his hands tremble at his side. he felt so… vulnerable, a word he never expected to apply to him, of all people, but you had that effect on him.

"just stay…" he whispers, a desperate plea as he squeezes his eyes shut to block out everything except you and him. "please…"

another tension filled silence stretches between you. he opens his eyes again, blinking as he meets your gaze. there's a profound sadness there, dragging your features downwards in a frown that sinks his stomach.

your sigh breaks the silence.

"i can't keep doing this, ghost." you mumble, dipping your head and rubbing your eyes.

"...what?"

"this! one minute you're nice to me, then you're a complete dickhead, and then you're back to being nice again." you exclaim, waving your hands around in frustration to amplify your point. "it’s exhausting."

"that's not– i'm not doing it on purpose." he frowns, the internal panic that arguing with you causes rising to the surface.

"this is what i mean! you're just making excuses!" your voice has a desperation to it that strikes him like an arrow through the heart. you turn sharply away from him, focusing your gaze somewhere on the wall.

"then just tell me what you want, for fucks sake!" he pleads, shuffling to stay in front of you and try to coax your eyes back to him. "whatever it is, i'll do it!"

"tell you what i want?" you laugh wryly, looking back to him with an expression he can only describe as offended. "i want you to apologise to me! i want you to say you're fucking sorry, and i don't want to have to wring it out of you!"

your words ring in his ears, bouncing off the walls and back at him like an echo chamber.

"you have never apologised to me! not even once! after all the shit you've put me through, i have never heard the words 'i'm sorry' out of your mouth!" you scowl at him, your eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall as your voice breaks. "thats all i've ever wanted from you!"

simon can't shake off the stunned feeling your words impart upon him; all this time, had he really never apologised? he'd just assumed that you knew he was sorry, without ever having actually said it.

the answer was practically smacking him in the face the entire time, and he still somehow managed to completely miss it. no wonder you were fed up with him – no wonder everyone kept looking at him like he was an idiot.

he's never felt more like a fucking moron than he does in this moment.

he's broken out of his haze by the movement of you sitting back down in your chair, lowering your head into your shaky hands and taking an equally unstable breath.

"you say you don't know what to do– you keep saying you regret what happened, but you never tell me why!" you briefly lift your head to cry out at him, and he just about sees the wetness on your cheeks before it's hidden behind your fingers again.

he takes one large stride to be standing in front of you again. "i was trying to help! havin' any kind of phobia will get you killed in this line of work. i was trying to help you because…" he speaks with a similarly desperate tone, his hands floating uselessly in the space between you. "be–because i care about you."

"well you could've fooled me." you sniffle, lowering your hands slightly, your gaze staying locked to the floor. "why didn't you just say that to begin with? why bother with the tough guy act?"

"it's not that simple…" he mutters, frozen in place, afraid that one wrong move would send you bolting like a cornered animal.

"why?" you cry, tilting your head up to catch his eyes with your own reddened ones, "what are you so afraid of?!"

simons heart beats out of his chest, the rhythm so aggressive he was sure he'd go into cardiac arrest.

"i'm in love with you!" he blurts, the tremor in his hands increasingly obvious as he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. "...that's what i'm afraid of." his voice is little more than a whisper now, the silence following his declaration only serving to hurt his heart further.

when he peeks back down at you, there's a look of pure shock on your face. your mouth is agape, your eyes flickering between both of his, and simon feels as though you're staring straight into the abyss of his soul. 

"and i am sorry, i'm so fuckin' sorry, for everything– all the shit i gave you when you first started, for never givin' you a chance, for screamin’ at you," he continues, his own voice subtly cracking, "i– i'm so… in love with you, and it fucking terrifies me..."

he wanted to touch you, so badly, and with the sheer amount of raw emotion racing through his veins, he can't find it in himself to resist the urge.

simon sinks to his knees in front of you, his fingers grasping your wrists in a featherlight touch and pulling them away from your face with a gentleness he wasn't sure he possessed.

"i– i could've lost you. you could've died and then i'd have to live without you, and i can't do that…" for the first time in a long time, simon feels the sting of tears in his eyes as he caresses the pulse on your wrists with his thumbs, "i'm sorry…"

"simon…" the way you utter him name sends his heart fluttering like a caged bird in his chest. you'd never called him anything other than ghost or lieutenant before now; he never thought he could enjoy hearing simply his name this much.

"i'm so fuckin' sorry, i'll never treat you like that again, i swear." his voice is weak. he presses his forehead to your fingertips to hide the anguish in his eyes. "i'm sorry, i love you, just… just let me down easy, yeah?"

there's another pause, yours and simon's ragged breaths the only sound disturbing the silence.

"why would i let you down?” you whisper from above him. the words send a jolt of shock through him, the implication halting his breathing for a moment as he processes what you mean.

"don’t say that…" he mutters, squeezing your wrists ever so slightly tighter, not quite ready to let go of you yet.

"i'm in love with you, too."

his head snaps up to meet your eyes. "no, you– " he sputters, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth despite the mask still hiding his terrified expression "you can't… you deserve so much better…"

"i don't care what you think i deserve," you wear a tiny smile as you pull his hand away, your tender hold on his wrist mirroring his own on yours.

"i’m– i’m not good for you." he feels the tears building up again, blurring his vision.

"shouldn’t that be for me to decide?"

simon can hardly believe what's happening, when you bring your other hand up to his cheek, caressing his face through the fabric. he still doesn't let go of your wrist.

"i don't… you– i can't–" his tongue can't seem to form the words as he gazes up into your eyes, the kindness and warmth there overwhelming his senses. "i can't be what you want."

"you already are what i want." you sink to the floor as well, lifting your other hand to cup his face with a blinding smile. "i love you, simon."

for a moment, all he can do is revel in the warmth that bleeds through the fabric of his mask from your hands, pushing his face more into your touch like an affectionate cat.

a desperate noise escapes the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering shut. "...say it again?" he whispers the plea.

he feels your lips on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes snap back open at the sensation. "i love you, simon. more than anything." you murmur, shuffling closer when you kneel between his legs and pressing your forehead to his.

simon thinks he could die happy in this moment. to think, all the pain of the last couple of weeks – the last year, really – had all amounted to this, and can't help but think about what and idiot he'd been up until this point; to have waited this long to feel your touch, it was almost unthinkable.

he sighs, his breathing still evening out. "i'm so sorry…" he whispers. he goes to snake one arm around your waist, but hesitates just before touching you. as of sensing his dilemma, you give him a pleasant hum, wordlessly giving him permission to place his hand firmly on your back. he brings you that much closer with it, the feeling of holding someone a novelty to him.

"i'll forgive you, on two conditions." you reply. simon can sense the smile in your voice even with his eyes closed.

"anything."

"one, we talk to each other from now on, properly." you begin, and simon nods as adequately as he can with your forehead still against his. "second, you have to go on a date with me– to atone."

at that he opens his eyes, pulling back slightly and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "not sure that counts as a punishment, love." 

you chuckle, meeting his sceptical gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "it is, because you're cooking."

he chuckles, deep and rumbling in his chest, and drops his forehead gently back to yours, allowing his eyes to flutter closed again.

he'd cook for you for the rest of his life if you asked, if it meant he could stay like this, with you.

taglist p1: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @sunshiinegaz , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona ,

@alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling , @stateofcatatonia , @rivalriotrenegade , @yoichiislovie , @nirvanaaaonly , @ameliaamareeee , @sapientiia , @thesecretwriter , @susanmukami , @ryze1113 , @stars-andfreckles , @spya1 , @tunaa-luvchrm , @tzutology (p2 in separated reblog)

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

HOO BOY, I spent ALL of last week doing nothing but coloring. It was a real doozy. I resurrected a few old drawings I liked, breathing new life into them with the magic of color (and photoshop 🥲). This one was from summer of last year, when I was playing totk nonstop, and I wanted to draw link in some pinup poses. Because I like putting him in CUNTY LITTLE OUTFITS OK?????? I remember I dyed the froggy armor shirt orange so it matched with all the construct stuff.

There's another one from around this time I colored last week!! Stay tuned for that. 😈

I'm making this into a print! This is available for preorder on my bigcartel store!

[facelessanimator]

I have so many questions about your Guardian Angel AU

Like I would assume this was after Timmy loses his fairies?

Also what happened to him, like how did he became an angel? Why?

How did the council managed his appearance and what happened when he woke up?

Who assigns him his charges and how exactly his duty as a Guardian Angel works?

Also what happened with his previous life? Like I guess the 500 years coma was in Fairy World years, since he beccomes Hazel's Guardian so on Earth things kept going, what happened with his parents, his friends?

Hoo Boy this is a nice doozy! SO!!

1 and 2: This AU takes place when Timmy is only 17, just One year shy of losing his fairies forever. Unfortunately the combined stressors of: - Knowing He's gonna lose his Fairies. - His parent's neglect becoming worse after age 14 to the point he spends weeks alone. - Cosmo and Wanda talking out loud about properties in Fairyworld they're looking into once they leave. -Francis's bullying taking an even harsher turn to the point Timmy was put in the hospital a few times. - The thought of losing Peri, the only one who took his emotions into mind at all times. and a whole lot more, sadly caused him to become Pataint 0 of a brand new disease that effects mainly godkids.

The Disease was named T.H.S [Timmy's Heart Syndrome], it shares similarities with BrokenHeart Syndrome but it mainly effects godkids who have been subjected to intense amounts of stress due to neglect or bullying. Timmy was affected with all the factors of it, at once, for the length of YEARS, so his death made the disease easier to contract as it sorta evolved.

After his death, Timmy was found, in pretty rough shape, at the rainbow bridge of Fairyworld by random civilians. He was quickly taken to the hospital where it was discovered his rough shape was due to his new wings growing in. Of course something of this magnitude has to be called in. Effectively putting the hospital on lockdown, none allowed to enter without explicit permission from the Council or Jorgen.

The death of a godkid was unheard of.

================================================

3: Once the Council learned of Timmy's fate, they basically locked the hospital he was at down TIGHT. Nobody outside was allowed to see him and any information of him was swiftly redacted from everywhere, even his Godkid file was sealed under the highest security. Timmy was basically wiped from everywhere in efforts to protect him from the eye of the public and media not even Cosmo, Wanda or Peri know he lives in Fairyworld, and he was put under strict 24/7 monitoring by none other than Jorgen, cause nobody wanna mess with him tbh.

But the news always spreads.

Waking up from his coma was a whole fiasco on its own.

Its a tad bit terrifying going to "sleep" with immense chest pain in your room and suddenly waking back up in FairyWorld with a whole new look and some BIIIIG reserves of magic that you have no idea how to control. Its the main reason Timmy has a halo rather than a crown. The Council and Some very powerful fairies put so much magic into Timmy's halo in an attempt to curb or even completely halt his magic until hes able to control it himself.

Which sorta takes the next 500 years. COUGH

================================================

4: HIS CHARGESSS!! As before- with his new powers comes with new abilities- and in the beginning his ability led him to kids who were suffering T.H.S at stage 2. His abilities and the spread of the disease made it harder and harder to keep under wraps so the Council decided that a new wing was needed to both study and attempt to stop the spread of the disease. Thus The Guardian Wing of FairyWorld was born. The Council held reign over it for a while, splitting into 2 to lighten the load until a proper Commander could be assigned.

Jorgen and More Higher Ranked Fairies were assigned to train Timmy in how to control his powers, leading to a few unexpected explosions till he managed to get a handle on it.

Lets just say Timmy out of Mortal School was actually a very quick and advanced learner. Advancing through most of his trainings, within the 500 years it took, with efficiency and speed not many fairies possess. Wasn't long before he was advancing through the ranks. TLDR- Timmy is actually the Guardian Commander, most Guardians are actually assigned charges by HIM. Tho Guardians are assignment status is a totally different process If anyone's interested!

================================================

5: ......His previous life was......not so good. His parents came home from a 5 week vacay to notice the house was exactly how they left it. Barely realizing their son was gone until a few days passed. Only then did they realize something was wrong. Once they entered his room and found it a mess with some blood scattered around did they THEN call in the emergency...

unfortunately no body was found. Chester and AJ were devastated once Timmy's disappearance was announced in the school. They honestly though that he was finally taken on vacation by his parents.. They spent years grieving their friend and even meet up on his birthday to remember him. [Disclaimer: In this AU Fairyworld and Earth kinda run on different times, time in the Fae realm kinda goes faster than Earth.]

Trixie acted like a total attention hog, claiming how she was so endeared by Timmy's crush and acting like she lost the love of her life- [I had personal beef with her as a kid XD]

Hell even Crocker and Francis paused their antics for a while once it was announced. Francis eventually went back to his old ways but Crocker became quiet, a more introverted teacher until he retired.

Tootie took his kidnapping the hardest cause she's the only one who knows. She knows he passed on. She was on her way to visit when she spotted the ambulance and a strange family rushing out with Timmy in their arms. She found where he was buried....and every year, without fail, on his birthday, she left flowers at his grave. She never told anyone, in fear they may see Timmy's memory in negative light or use it for attention.

As Well as a Personal Favor to a Strange Pink Haired Woman.

Bonus: Tormented Creator

[ino-takumas-baggy-sweater]

The Blessing To Your Curse - Part 3 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hoo boy this one is a doozy, I hope you're ready because shits about to go downhill uphill and all around lmaoo. I'll try to be more consistent with this series, I'm trying to split my time evenly between this, the royal au, and just doing oneshots but it's gonna be hard with uni starting up again in a few days

Part 2 here

Warnings: blood, gore, descriptions of death, descriptions of self harm

Word Count: 3.9k

“YUJI!”

“NANAMI!”

“ANYONE?!”

You knew it was dangerous to intentionally draw attention to yourself, but you called out for aid nonetheless. You’d reluctantly split off from the group to distract a first grade, being left alone with it before you could blink, and now you’re curled up against a wall while pressing a hand below your ribcage and desperately reaching into the well of your energy to patch the wound. It hadn’t gone horribly wrong, but you couldn’t deny that it hurt like a bitch and you were already tired.

Perhaps there was some remnant of the physical weakness you possessed in your past life after all, some chronic illness that chased you beyond death and rebirth.

“Motherfucker,” You growl, ripping at the side of your shirt to expose more of the wound to your eyes, feeling the skin stitch together as you hiss profanities through your teeth. After purging it of the last of the cursed blood you had been coated with during the fight, it seals up and you slump back, the patch of skin tingling with remnant energy.

Gotta get moving, find Yuji again. You push yourself to your feet, repeating these words as your nails scrape the wall and your hand drags past neon screens and through trails of the gross purple blood. You’re trying not to put weight on your ankle, which twisted in an awkward fall while fighting the first grade, but deciding you can’t afford to lose more time you push on until you reach a set of stairs.

Residuals of cursed energy leak up through the air in your direction, one trace you recognise to be Yuji’s, and a second trace, this one stronger, more potent and reeking of blood. You scrunch your nose at the tangy smell, forcing your feet to take you down the stairs where you find yourself amongst the remnants of a fight. “Yuji?” You call out, coughing slightly as a hint of smoke pierces the air.

You make it further down the hallway when you hear voices, and suddenly a wave of malice washes over you, forcing you to your knees. “I’ll give you one second,” You hear his voice around the next corner and crawl to press your back against the wall, making yourself as small as possible, “Move,” Heavy breathing near you catches your attention and you finally notice the two girls in an alcove across from you.

You press your hand to your mouth as they stare at an unknown figure that you’re now almost certain is Sukuna, the special grade curse that moves to stand at their side equally terrified but trying not to let it show. They’re like statues, and Sukuna’s footsteps ring out in the still air like shots from a pellet gun. Your eyes travel to the figure walking towards them and away from you, its Sukuna alright, his face stoic and empty of emotion as he approaches the group of three.

“You hold your heads quite high,” He rumbles, brushing the pink hair up from his forehead, and you watch as he takes a chunk off the top of the special grade’s head with a single thought, missing the two girls because they duck far enough to the ground. Smart girls, you think to yourself in passing, perhaps I should step in and save them.

He may be amicable now, but you know he can turn on a dime at any second. “Did you believe taking one knee would be enough? The boughs that bear most hang lowest, yes? But I guess you guys are pretty lightweight,” He looks to the girls, “You kids first, you wanted…” He trails off, his head angling slightly towards you and you see his nose twitch before he turns and you meet his ruby red gaze, “What have we here?”

Your heart is thumping practically through your chest as you drop your hand from your mouth, taking low deep breaths to try and calm yourself, “My lord,” You murmur, his power overwhelming you into submission. He’s in front of you in an instant, but you can see his unwillingness to bend down and assist you in front of an audience.

You hear a protestation in your mind at your term of address and you relax your shoulders, pressing yourself against the wall awkwardly to pull yourself to your feet, “Sukuna,” You murmur, low enough so as you cast your gaze over his shoulder at the special grade you know they cannot hear you, “Forgive me, I tried to find Yuji before anything could happen,”

He shakes his head, “No matter, I have business with these three anyway,” He looks over his shoulder, following your gaze, but you place a hand out of sight over where Yuji’s heart lies. “Spare the girls,” You whisper, looking away, “For my sake. Let me fulfil their demands,” He lets out a bark of a laugh, catching you off guard a little, “Will that leave you strong enough for what I need?”

You look back into his eyes, see the flash of concern passing through his gaze and his hand hovers over yours for a moment, the twinge in your ankle disappearing in an instant. “I will be,” You steel yourself, dropping your hand back to your side, “For you,”

After a moment of gazing into your eyes he turns and walks back to the girls, “What did you want to ask? I’ll grant you a finger’s worth of time,” He inspects his nails and then brushes them on the front of the supremely fucked up jacket that almost barely covers his torso at this point, allowing you a glimpse of the tattoos on his back, “Now talk,”

One of the girls, the mousy brunette, glances up at you for just a second, letting you see the tear tracks running down her cheeks as she speaks, “Below us, there’s a man in monks robes, with stitches across his forehead,” She mumbles. You flinch and look away, you know exactly who she speaks of, and it’s the man who’s been haunting your prophetic dreams since you were a child.

You knew through your time at Jujutsu High that Suguru Geto would turn his back, and after his death you thought it was over, but things are never that simple. “Please, kill him,” Sukuna glances back at you and you can feel his essence behind your eyelids as his manifestation enters your mind, “Is the roleplaying monk the one you dream of?” You nod, digging your fingernails into your palm as the other hand clutches at your chest.

You feel rather than see him roll his eyes as he breaks eye contact, “What an asshole,” He grunts, turning back to the girls. “And also, please free Geto,” The other girl whimpers, making your eyes water. You can still sense Geto beyond death, he may not be strong enough to free himself, and you know someone like Sukuna or Gojo or Yuta could, but Gojo is nothing but a liability when it comes to his former best friend.

“We know the location of one other finger-“ “Quit whining,” Sukuna snaps, and both girls are silent as mice, “Did you think a measly one or two fingers would grant you the right to order me around?” He pouts slightly, “How insulting, you’re lucky my queen is present, or I’d have your heads where you kneel,”

He regards them with a look you can only describe as voracious and then nudges the dark haired girl’s forehead with the toe of his shoe. She keeps her eyes firmly shut as her head is forced into a more upright position, her face turned up towards his, “You see her standing there?” He asks quietly.

The girl opens her eyes and locks them onto yours though you’re quite sure she cannot see you through the veil of her tears. “She’s the only reason the two of you are still alive, if I were you I’d be thankful and go to her before I change my mind,” His tone is mocking, he’s enjoying this, and some small part of you is too.

But you barely have a chance to protest before they’re stumbling to their feet, heads still bowed, and they’re by your side in an instant, tucking themselves behind you so you stand between them and your ferocious lover. “If you wish for them to live that badly then get them out of here, it’s about to get… a little hot,” His voice rings through your mind and you turn obediently, looking between the girls for a moment.

They appear to be equally as afraid of you as they are of Sukuna, and you have a fleeting memory pass through your mind of seeing them with Geto before the Night parade of a Hundred Demons. “Come on,” You say flatly, “It’s not going to be safe here much longer,” Not that you can claim it ever was safe for anyone but you, putting you between Sukuna’s technique and them doesn’t change a thing because his technique can’t hurt you, but you’re not going to tell them that and shatter their hope.

“Geto will die,” You murmur as you nudge them in front of you, “I have seen it,” Again, you’re not going to tell them how much time there is until the day comes, but you want to at least reassure them that something will happen. “How do you know?” The mousy brunette looks back at you and you stop walking, having made it far enough down the hallway that you would no longer see Sukuna if you were to look over your shoulder.

You meet her gaze, blinking slowly, “And why would I reveal that? What have you done besides demand from my king?” She flinches as if remembering who you are to him, “What are your names?” “Nanako,” The one who spoke murmurs. “Mimiko,” The other adds quickly, “We’re sorry, please, we thought maybe if we helped him then he would help us, he’s so strong that surely killing Geto would be nothing for him,”

You let Mimiko finish her little spiel before pushing between them and continuing to walk, remaining quiet. They don’t follow for a moment before deciding you’re the lesser of two evils and then catching up to you. “You never make requests of Sukuna,” You murmur, “Not if the fate of the world depends on it,” “What is it that you know?” Nanako murmurs.

You spin to face them, making yourself dizzy for a moment before you fix your glare on her wide brown eyes, “The last person to make a request of him and live to tell the tale beyond his grasp was the only person he ever loved, over a thousand years ago, and through no fault of his own he failed to fulfil her request,” You snap. Sometimes, now that you remember, you’re forced to relive your own death through your dreams.

The spray of razor sharp barbs hitting your back from the insect-like curses chasing you, dragging through your skin and shredding your insides like serrated knives. Your heart weakening with every beat, legs still running despite the fact there was a steady ooze of blood from around each point that cruelly stuck out from the front of your robes.

You remember you tripped on the path as his house came into view, falling to your knees, you nudged one of the barbs, it’s pointed edge taunting you with the rosy shine of your own blood. You remember the sound of your own screams drawing him from his house, only for you to bleed out in his arms, his face twisted and streaked with tears.

Tears that bound your soul to his in a futile effort to keep you alive, only succeeding in delaying the inevitable for but a few moments, allowing a proper vow to fall from his lips. You still feel the chains he put there, still feel his soul on the other side.

The girls eyes are fearful and you wish you could be sure if they know exactly what you’re trying to imply, but you won’t dwell on it any longer. “I’m going to get you to our healer, and you’re going to stay there without complaint, or I’m going to kill you myself, you understand?” They nod, eyes filled with fear as you grow deadly, feeling Sukuna’s gleeful bloodlust flood your senses.

Seething with quiet rage you escort them back to Shoko who, despite looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, lets you attempt to return to the fight. Although you aren’t entirely sure where anyone is anymore, you’ve somehow managed to get caught up in Sukuna’s domain, the slashes glancing harmlessly off your skin as you search for the epicentre.

“SUKUNA!” You shout, pressing forwards through the spray. It’s almost like rain, and you shake your head to clear your thoughts, trying your hardest to see anything. Finally in the darkness, you catch a glimpse of the shrine that lies at the centre of Sukuna’s domain, the jaws wide open and ominous as always.

This happens as the domain subsides, and you see his pink hair across from you at the edge of the destruction. “SUKUNA!” He looks towards you as you stumble in his direction, pulling yourself out of the hole as your chest heaves. “I thought I told you to get out of here,” He growls, hauling you to your feet by your upper arm.

You cough as you inhale some concrete dust, “If we want to do this body thing, now is the best time we have,” You croak, “Nobody else is around,” Sukuna smirks and looks past you for a moment, “Just wait a moment will you,”

You fall silent as he steps around you towards the hole, “Make sure to savour this for me brat,” Sukuna’s energy softly fades and you whip your head around, “Sukuna!” You growl, “You moron!” The tattoos fade and you see his hands start to shake.

Yuji grabs his face and you’re afraid to touch him, but he falls to his knees and you’re quickly by his side, “LET ME DIE!” He screams, dragging his fingertips along the rough concrete and shaving chunks of viscera off, “ONLY ME!” You make a mental note to chew Sukuna out later, this isn’t how you wanted to proceed.

 “Yuji listen to me, you made me a promise,” You grunt, pulling him back off the ground into your arms with yours hooked under his shoulders to prevent him from hurting himself anymore. “He can have my body,” Yuji sobs, burying his face against your arm, “I don’t deserve to live!” He wails.

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” You growl, grabbing his chin and making him look up at you. You know your eyes must be a reflection of Sukuna’s, you can see how terrified he is, “You promised me that you would assist me, and I promised you I would protect you,”

“Innocent people died!” He pulls away from you, “And it’s all my fault, I’m not strong enough, I just…” He trails off, breathing heavily, “I can’t understand how or why you love him, I just can’t,” Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, leaving trails through the dust and dirt, “Yuji, I…”

You know what you want to say, you want to remind him that you’re technically a thousand years old, you knew him before he was like… this… and you’re sure you can return him at least to a more docile state, but he’s like a caged wolf right now. Fulfilling an oath that has no purpose anymore other than to feed his bloodlust.

Instead, you take his hands in your own disregarding the state of his fingers to just hold him. “I will readily accept that this is partially my fault, I probably could have stopped him in the subway and I didn’t, but right now I need you to let me do this. The sooner he is out of your body the sooner your body is your own again,” You plead softly.

His shoulders droop and he nods, “Yeah, yeah, go on then,” He murmurs. You steel yourself, you hadn’t had the chance to practice this step because you couldn’t risk accidentally cloning Sukuna, so you had one shot to get it right.

You shift so you’re on your knees, still holding his hands, and using the blood from his fingers you paint a small chevron symbol on his forehead. It begins to glow as you reach deep into your soul, the well of energy within you stirring.

His eyes are full of tears as he looks at you, and you have to blink away your own again as the two of you begin to glow. There aren’t words in any language that can properly describe what exactly it is that you do, you suppose if your modern day clan had survived then you’d know what it was you were doing, but you could only follow your instincts and hope that everything went smoothly.

A trail of strange white energy, formless and malleable, pulls from the wounded tips of Yuji’s fingers, trailing out like blossoms in the wind and eventually forming something resembling a human beside you. You reach one hand towards it, maintaining your connection to Yuji and pressing your other to the pale form that is gradually taking on colour.

It occurs to you as Sukuna’s form begins to take shape before you that you have no clothes for him, you really hadn’t thought as far ahead as you should have, and Yuji averts his eyes, emptying the contents of his stomach away from the strange new body.

It takes a few more minutes and some small adjustments but soon the body is finished, and it looks just as you remember from before your death. “How the hell do we get him into the body now?” Yuji asks?” “Like this,” You turn to him, pressing your hand to the side of his face as his eyes widen.

Tattoos form on his skin and his eyes waver between brown and red momentarily, before Sukuna responds to your power and pushes forward. “You called?” He tilts his head with a smirk, grabbing your chin and inspecting the tear tracks on your face, “Did the brat make you cry?”

You shake your head, “No he didn’t, now will you hurry up and do whatever it is you have to do to switch bodies?” You murmur, exhaustion gripping at your limbs. He looks down, nodding with approval as he lets you go, “Your craft is immaculate as always,” He murmurs, trailing his fingers over the unblemished skin.

You rub your jaw, clicking your neck momentarily as you look around, spotting a somewhat intact clothing store a few doors down from you, “I’ll be right back,” You haul yourself to your feet, stumbling towards the shattered glass and into the shop. It takes a few minutes but eventually you find all the essentials to just cover him up, underwear, sweatpants, and a simple t-shirt that has a generic band logo you don’t recognise on the back.

Making sure it’s all in a larger size you lurch back out onto the street, noticing the new body sitting up and flexing his fingers, his body adorned with tattoos and his face changed, returned to the half-twisted state. Yuji is trembling on his side a couple metres away, his back facing the two of you as you return to them.

It only takes you a moment to realise what happened, Sukuna made the new body eat one of Yuji’s fingers, and you frown at him sternly, “Heal him,” You grunt, hitting his shoulder with the back of your hand. He snatches the clothes off you without responding, you fall back onto your butt and shuffle over to Yuji, “Oh Yuji,” You murmur.

“You heal him if you care so much, he’s just a brat,” Sukuna growls and you whip your head back to look at him, fury giving you a shot of adrenaline, “I just used up almost all of my energy reserves to create a new body for you from nothing, you fucking owe me, I don’t care how much you hate him,”

His face remains stoic and you stand, poking his chest viciously, “I brought you into this world, I can fucking take you out of it, I don’t care, you better not make me think I just wasted everything I had for nothing,” He rolls his eyes, pushing past you and bending down, his hand on Yuji’s side frightens the boy for a moment but he relaxes as Sukuna’s reverse cursed technique flows through him, growing back the finger he stole and healing his other fingertips.

“Are you happy now?” He growls, standing up and looking down on you. You spit off to the side, saliva mixed with blood, “I won’t be happy until you stop treating me like a fucking worm, I gave you your own body and now you think you can treat me like this? Is this how you show appreciation to someone who you’ve apparently lied to every time you’ve told them you loved them?”

His demeanour is softened the moment you accuse him of lying and you feel a momentary sting of regret, but you just spent all of your energy giving his own body. It’ll take you weeks to recover from this. If he isn’t willing to fight in your place, then what was it all for?

You want to cry again, you want to burst into tears and fall to your knees, you want to stay by Yuji’s side and just give up hope. This isn’t the man you knew, you should’ve been more careful, shouldn’t have so readily trusted him when he showed you his memories. He’s changed too much, and you’re afraid you’ll never get him back.

You do eventually tire of Sukuna’s solemn silence, slumping down on the rubble next to Yuji and apologizing softly, repeatedly. You know that no amount of words will ever make up for what he’s gone through, but as long as you stay with him he might have a chance of getting through this.

“Y/n,” Sukuna rumbles. You look back to him, he’s sat casually just beside you, “You’re the only thing I want in this world, without you I am nothing but a curse seeking endless vengeance,” You feel Yuji roll over and press his face against the side of your thigh, “You give me a purpose, and if you don’t trust me that’s ok, just…”

He reaches for you and you let him take your hand, looking up into his eyes, “You made me human again,” He murmurs, “I… I remember what it’s like to love, and I will stay by your side until you believe me and you love me too,” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, choosing to remain silent but nodding slightly.

His eyes close and your free hand rests on Yuji’s back. It will take time, and this fight is far from over, but you’re sure that things will begin to heal. Even if you end up on the run from Jujutsu society for the rest of your life, at least you have him back. At least you can go about trying to save some of your friends.

I think this takes the prize for my favourite chapter so far, maybe it's just the whole 'writers are their own worst enemies' thing (is that how that goes? idk) and because it's the most recent one lol

also i hope yall dont mind me saving characters who died in shibuya, but i mean it's my fic and i get to choose who lives >:)

Part 4 coming soon

[indigo-flowers09]

How did c!overtale Clover get to the surface? Is the barrier gone?

HOO BOY THIS TOPIC IS A HEADCANON AU BULLSHIT RIDDLED DOOZY IVE BEEN PUTTING OFF

look i made silly little drawings of me to make it more fun!!!

Clover, and all the other monster versions of the fallen humans, have…uhh… I’ll just call them bright souls. because i don’t have a name yet. it’s because of these bright souls that they can cross the barrier. i know it’s weird i’ll get to it.

but first, the barrier. The barrier is fuckin weird. like. the humans sealed the monsters underground with MAGIC??? i thought magic was a monster thing???? whuh??? and it can only be broken with seven human souls??? maybe i’m just crazy idk

so going off everything i know about the barrier (1. it’s weird asf 2. humans can cross either way and 3. monsters cant) how do i make it so monsters can cross the barrier and the story is even possible??? simple!

just make it so monster souls can be as almost as powerful as human souls so they can cross the barrier but still not be able to break it! and only sometimes!!! so simple.

okay. so.

The way a monster gains a “bright soul” is from unwavering determination. Usually only found in younger monsters, hence why all of them are children. They don’t have the understanding of the dangers of humanity that adults do, and they all strive for one thing: the freedom of Monsterkind.

They usually have something from their earlier childhood, some kind of trauma, that makes them realize how desperately monsters need to be freed and and they understand they are capable of doing such.

Very few monsters, such as Dalv, have survived an earlier event that i call “The Conflict,” that was referenced in the first few pages of the comic. At that time, fears of humanity were much lower, until violence would once again break out. Little to no monsters remained on the surface after that.

one last thing. Boss monster souls.

i sorta decided to shelve them, not entirely but making the ability to return to the surface a game of genetic chance was something i was NOT interested in. If that were the case, The Queen would’ve probably returned to the surface already and beaten August into a pathetic little sad guy puddle.

buuuuut boss monster souls do have a LITTLE bit of importance, they’re why Hope and Frisk’s souls are bright red instead of pale. Having inherently stronger souls plus a bright soul makes you a marvelous little mountain goat that’s for sure (i don’t know what it does yet except make their souls more red)

YEAH so if this is really confusing tell me i’m writing this at 1am and have no idea what i’m talking about please ask questions i love answering asks a full inbox makes a full tummy

okay baiiiiiii :3

[awkwarddoesanart]

i was going to wait until the end of the season to post my artfight attacks but i think this one deserves to be posted now.

this attack was done for https://artfight.net/~candyKlown !! go check out their stuff it's really cool!!

hoo boy, this attack was a doozy. i've actually attempted doing it for the last three seasons straight, but i could never manage to finish it by the time artfight ended. this year, i decided to scrap my old version of the piece and just start completely fresh - and ended up putting roughly 36 HOURS into it. suffice to say this is probably the most insane attack i've ever done (and probably will ever do for a while lmao…) but it's real!!

and for those curious, the alternian text on the status bars read (from top to bottom) "brains/brawn/health"!

[another-day]

welcome back to episode in review and HOO BOY do we have a lot to talk about

spoilers for episode 18 of inanimate insanity invitational!!!!!

so to begin OH MY GOODNESS that was a doozy

that episode was intense i had to keep pausing and rewinding it was scary ok lets start

seeing this i just knew i was in for a ride whoop dee doo!!

i feel like they were right TO A DEGREE, because mephone doesn’t have any ill intentions, he’s just misguided. he thinks the show is the only way he can have friends or people who like him, its really sad.

just wanted to include this because THEY’RE ALL SO SILLY and cabby politely standing beside the seat because she can’t sit on it THEY’RE SO SILLY

i was talking to some of my friends about this earlier, but silver’s whole world probably cane crashing down here. he’d been fighting for not just himself, but candle as well, and her not wanting to give him her vote, despite him doing everything she wanted, was probably heartbreaking. he’d found his inner flame and beat the competition and this is what he gets? i understand why he was so pissed later on because the one person he thought would be happy for him wasn’t.

he almost immediately covered it up, but his inner flame’s later outburst shows how he really felt.

mephone was hoping his plan would follow through here, but it also shows he’s hung onto the guilt of season one’s finale. in one of my previous theories, i guessed that he valued paintbrush for two reasons; that he thought they’d understand the guilt of losing 4s, and that they act somewhat similarly to him. i don’t think this is in confirmation of that, but it backs it up somewhat.

the perfect prize to mephone is this going to plan, without any casualties despite what the season four file may imply, from what i can tell. he’s scared its all gonna go wrong the same way season one’s finale did. however, i still don’t think he wamted to follow through with this plan, evidenced by both him and the floor at the end.

do i need to say anything

its the anti-avengers dude

sorry this was so funny to me i had to include it

this scene messed me up guys like seriously

on one hand, candle thinks silver spoon’s learned his lesson, that the inner flame is not something to boast, but rather cherish and use for good. she thinks this because silver spoon functions in such a way. he reveals something about himself that she doesn’t approve of, she expresses that, and he changes to fit her standards, that’s how its always been. it shows her trust in him, his constant, because as much as he thinks otherwise, he never truly changes his ways, until now at least. that’s why she was so shocked, thinking he wouldn’t hang on to that since he seemed so unbothered previously. to her, silver was almost always an open book, so to see him hide something was shocking.

for silver spoon on the other hand, the one person who always had his back, who taught him everything he knew, turned on him. he did everything she asked and she won’t support him. it would be enraging, hence why he didn’t understand her lesson. he was too focused on the fact that she’d decided, in his eyes, that he still wasn’t enough, too powered by emotion and greed. he’s incredibly insecure, so to have her tell him he’s doing everything he aspired for wrong resulting in the rage clouding his mind, and thus,

SHE IS DEAD BOY ‼️

seeing him inching toward her motionless body at the end was tragic i was on the floor. she advised him not to let the inner flame, his rage, cloud his mind, he didn’t listen, and look where that led him. its tragic, really.

as a mephone angst enjoyer WAAAAH

this was mean, springy’s mean, i don’t like him.

… but he’s right. to mephone, this WAS all a game. he’s changed and grown, but that’s not gonna change how badly he’s treated people. mephone is broken because he refuses to fix himself. implied through the screen protector memory from episode 13 season two, mephone was taugh that he was strong, and should never be a vulnerable. as a likely result, he may have grown to resent vulnerability, and in turn never sought help, because that would be making yourself vulnerable.

whoop dee doo ok i’m ending it there before i get out of hand.

thanks for reading this if you did and i hope you didn’t completely hate it!!!

have a lovely day, and stay safe ;P

[forallnumbersosc]

what's an algebralien's anatomy? are they the exact same as a human's or are they different? :0

HOO boy this one might be a doozy so strap in!!

[Read more provided for convenience]

When it comes to Algebralien anatomy, on the outside there are some known consistencies... such as the fact that they tend to have fur and all generally share the same body shape, but there are many small details that can be used to show diversity!

For instance, aside from colors and patterns, each algebralien tends to differ in number of fingers and toes. I haven't found any that exceed three fingers and a thumb or more than four toes, but I have met an algebralien that lacks arms completely!

As for biological traits that are influenced by an algebralien's "symbol", the only factors that I have observed mainly pertain to the structure of their hair (manes?), nose patches, and tails.

Algebraliens are also known for their ability to shapeshift, so the appearances they take to mimic things like outfits (like my collar!) can change whenever they please. They usually prefer to find one form and stick to it, though!

...For the inside, however, it is one of the BIGGEST mysteries I have ever laid my eyes upon...

From my studies, I have never been able to pinpoint what truly goes on within an algebralien because they defy all laws of physics!

X-rays and ultrasounds yield indiscernable results, and there have been no recorded... erm... deaths... of any algebraliens, so I can't exactly get an autopsy, but there is one point of research I have been a bit more successful in learning about, and hopefully it will result in more successful results later on...

I have interviewed a few fellow contestants who have experienced at least a bit of what goes on within one certain algebralien. Even though we can't be sure it's what is present within all of them, we have evidence that there is some form of spatial anomaly that is possible through their bodies...

For Gaty's safety, we're gonna continue to do non... erm... explorative investigations for now, but the search is still on!

[semisolidmind]

Low-key a bit excited to know who the new blorbo you like is. 👁👄👁

....hoo boy

it's a doozy. it's a timely one, i guess? and based like 90% on fanart that ive seen

[chuckeroo777]

Chuck's Backpack Hero Mods

So, I've obviously been hyper-fixating on Dungeon Meshi lately, but that isn't all I do. For the past year, I've been making mods for my current favorite game: Backpack Hero!

My collection of mods! Look here if you want to check out any of these mods for yourself!

So in this post, I thought it would be fun to go over all my mods, and share some of my favorite details.

Chuck's Bionicle Mod: contains 245 items

Naturally, my first mod was a Bionicle mod. I love Bionicle. While I did a lot of custom spritework for this mod, shout out to Danska's Bionicle Builder, which is what I used for the masks and set-accurate weapons.

The mod's main gimmick is loot boxes! You can find mask packs, and equipment packs which can be opened for random items from the corresponding set wave. If you're real lucky, you may even find a bulk parts pack, which contains random equipment packs!

Nearly every set is represented, and a wide assortment of items from MNOG and VNOG are included too. As my first pack, the balancing was pretty spotty at first, but a few updates have fixed the more egregious examples. Did you know it took me 6 months to realize that the nektann robots had accidentally been set to unfindable?

Chuck's Plants vs Zombies Mod: contains 654 items??? (probably cut that down to like, ~350ish, since packets don't really count as a separate item)

My second mod, and hoo boy is it a doozy. Probably my favorite mod, this mod has a ton of work put into it, containing every plant from the orginal game, PvZ 2, and chinese PvZ 2. Thats a lot of plants!

The main gimmick of this mod is plant packets. Instead of finding plants as loot, you get packets, which grow over time. Once enough encounters occur with it in your pack, it grows into the plant.

But plants aren't the only thing in this pack. There is also a suite of zombie equipment, which grows stronger based on how many plants you have. Not to mention watering cans, pinatas, guppies, and other essentials to help fuel your botanical battle pack!

Chuck's Bloons Mod: Contains 134 items (again, effective number is a lot lower due to upgrades)

Ah yes, my bloons mod. This is probably my least favorite mod, simple because of how jank it is.

Basically, monkey's grow more powerful based on how many bloons they pop. As they reach thresholds, they get upgraded. However, spriting and programming so many upgrades gets rather tedious. This, combined with the fact that playing with the mod is rather feast or famine makes me not particularly fond.

Getting enough bloons can be tricky if you don't find one of the generators, and some monkeys are just way more useful than others, since due to the effort required, fully upgraded monkeys are mostly an endless mode thing, and some of them just don't scale into endless very well.

That being said, most of the monkeys are at least okay at a base level, so in casual play, they are decent, if not exciting.

Also, the monkey loot packs being barrels makes me giggle.

Chuck's Random Items Mod: contains 10 items

A simple little pack containing a few endless focused items. Originally meant for random ideas, but the next mod ended up taking that role.

Some neat examples include the white manastone, which acts as fuel for the vanilla black manastone, the sticky token, which acts as both energy and duct tape, at the cost of gimping defense, and the Fatum Ruptor, my signature sword.

Chuck's Pack of Mediocre Items: contains 109 items

This is a fun one. Basically, when modding, one tends to make things stronger than vanilla. So I challenged myself to make a pack with intentionally weak, but useful items. That doesn't mean it's bad, just lacks a lot of the raw power my other mods have.

As such, it is my recommendation for if you want a more vanilla style pack. Some of these items are literally just vanilla items with a twist. Such as the glove of knife. Just the one. Glove of knives was OP anyway.

Plenty of cheeky little references in here too. Like the candy cane horns which fill you with rage, or the pristine blade which fractures into one of ten different variants.

Chuck's Terraria Mod: contains 111 items

Ah yes, my favorite Minecraft clone. This pack has a little of everything. You got arrows, spears, tomes of ichor based magic, what's not to love?

If you're really lucky, you might find a crate containing items from my second and third favorite mods, Thorium and Calamity. (Sorry guys, you aren't even close to beating Magic Storage in the top spot.)

This pack also has few item type gimmicks I think are cool. Spears can only be used once per turn, but they have strong AOE attacks. Bullets are arrows that can also be used only once per turn. And then there is the copper shortsword. If you swing it 999 times, something cool might happen.

Chuck's Stick Ranger Mod: 174 items

Anyone else remember this game? Man, Stick Ranger was awesome. Pity they never made a sequel. Anyway, this pack contains a wide assortment of items, including 16 weapons from each class, except angel and gunner. Gunner only gets 8. Angel gets... 34???

Yeah, I like rings. I gave them a cool mechanic where they buff other adjacent rings, like a variant of Satchel's hammers. So of course I included a ton of them.

Also, the imperial crown used to hold the record for the laggiest item I ever made, but engine optimizations has made it actually viable to use. Hooray! Much like the game it comes from, the crown massively boosts the threat enemies pose, but greatly rewards you for it.

Chuck's Neo-Battledome Mod: contains 130 items

To be perfectly honest, I never got past the level of duel-wielding scarab rings before I got banned due to my account getting hacked. Hasn't stopped me from obsessively keeping up with battledome weapon releases, even if they're currently releasing, like, three a year.

That's right, did you ever play Neopets and wished you could wield the Darigan Sword of Death? Or really wanted to own a Weird Scarab, even though it was an impossible to find yet completely ineffectual item? Well, now you can do the next best thing!

Chuck's Elder Scrolls Mod: contains 59 items

Ah, Skyrim. My first M rated game. Which I bought without my parents' permission. Honestly, get rid of those terrible blood splatters, and the strangely mild swearing, and it would pass for T. (Seriously, how do Skyrim and Stick of Truth have the same rating???)

Anyway, this mod contains items from not just skyrim, but oblivion and morrowind too. And maybe even an item or two from arena and daggerfall if you're nice.

If you collect 24 Stones of Barenziah, absolutely nothing happens. Just like in Skyrim.

Chuck's MSPA Mod: contains 49 items

Ah yes. Homestuck. I'd say it's pretty good. Shame it ended at act 7. Anyway, here's some items to shove in your sylladex backpack. Lots of Problem Sleuth items too. Those are probably a bit less polarizing.

Probably best to swiftly move along.

Chuck's Enchanting Crystals Mod: contains 18 items

A small, but simple pack. These crystals can be used to add permanent buffs to your items. The more powerful ones contain downsides though, so be careful.

Chuck's RPG Classes Mod: contains 68 items (Only 9 of which are actually findable, lol)

One of my most popular mods, this adds essences which boost various play-styles. They start off weak, but as you kill enemies, they level up! When leveling up, they branch into two options, with six of the base essences each having four different final forms.

Let me give you a hint. If you're using this, or any of my mods with upgrading items, I won't get mad if you use debug mode to check what items will do when they grow up.

Chuck's Card Slinger Mod: contains 88 items

Ask any Backpack Hero player who the worst playable character is, and we'll all agree. It's Tote. So here's a mod to try and make her more fun. Excuse the use of the thumbnail instead of a pack of items. Carvings are a pain to screenshot.

This mod contains carvings for Tote based on a variety of card games, like Hearthstone, Eternal, MtG, Inscryption, and more! Seriously, some of these are obscure as heck. Like the ones from my own card game that I have never shown off publicly.

Generally fitting into a discard-light setup, the minion cards attack each turn, but get discarded if you get attacked too many times. There are also self-discarding spells, and cards which buff your other cards.

Crown of Possibilities is my favorite TCG card of all time, and you can't change my mind.

Chuck's Mod of Loathing: contains 36 items

Couldn't really get into Kingdom of Loathing, but dang if West of Loathing and Shadows over Loathing aren't amazing games.

Anyway, items in this pack are neat, but I may have created the worst item ever in the Spittoon. It hurts you when used, but gives treasure! Most of the treasure is awful. There is only one good item in its pool. And it's a damn good one. So there I go. Reaching into every spittoon I find, taking ten damage for no reason, hoping to get lucky. If that doesn't capture the essence of the spittoon, I don't know what will.

Chuck's Backpack Battles Mod: contains 47 items

Ah yes, my third favorite backpack based game.

Some pretty neat mechanics in this mod. The versitile dagger and thirsting blade both have a mechanic where after using them for a while, they upgrade into a random crafted version. The gems also upgrade over time.

I also added some dragon eggs. I thought they were really swell. How swell? Well...

Chuck's Dragon Eggs Mod: contains 641 items!!! (Like the PvZ mod, cut that roughly in half.)

Originally based on Dragon Cave, I had to take it down and rework it with my own original sprite art. I'd say it turned out pretty good.

This mod contains eggs which hatch after a while into dragons. It is mainly focused on Pouchette, who can find the full selection, but the others can find a more limited selection too. (Except Tote. Tote never gets to have fun. Except when she finds a Darigan Sword of Death.)

I had a lot of fun figuring out the flavor for this mod. There are a ton of different dragon types, each with it's own type of effect. Tarasques are defensive, drakes have power in numbers, bug dragons are totally a real thing, and weren't the result of running out of unique body plans...

Chuck's Randomly Generated Mod: contains 38 items

Exactly what it says on the tin. I set up a random table, rolled two effects, a trigger, and a character, then made an item inspired by the results.

Chuck's Hyperrealistic Mod: contains 15 items

Gonna be honest, this one's a shitpost.

Chuck's Undertale Mod: contains 92 items

This was a fun pack to work on. I love Undertale and Deltarune, so I certainly wasn't lacking inspiration. Most of the equipment and consumables are in there, along with plenty of memes. I got you're stopsigns, a punchcard that provides massive value if you know how to exploit it, maybe even a Prunsel if you're good.

My favorite item has to be the cell phone. Each battle, you receive a random call, providing a small benefit. You might get Undyne slapping spaghetti against the receiver, you might get Papyrus complaining about spike regulations, you might get [half price baloney], you never know!

Chuck's Dredmor Mod: contains 36 items

Ever played Dungeons of Dredmor? It's very silly. And hard. I've never won a run.

Anyway, here's some random items from that game cause I felt like it. What more do you want?

Chuck's Dungeon Dice Mod: contains 52 items (more like 7 lol)

Contains items which randomize their effects at the start of each battle. Pretty cool.

Anyway, those are my mods. Enjoy a screenshot of the nonsense you can get up to with all my mods active.

Hope you enjoyed reading, and maybe enjoy playing with them!

Stay tuned for my next mod, based on Chips Challenge! This may or may not be a joke.

[fingerless-glovez]

Hoo boy, this one was a doozy. But I think his looks pretty good for a crime against humanity.

Ooh, busted

Flipped version without caption under the cut

[karatekels]

In Deep Water - Chapter 2

HOO BOY, this one's a doozy. Definitely the most fucked up, depraved thing I've ever written, so please don't read this if any of the trigger warnings are upsetting to you. Speaking of which...

TW: bondage, torture, threats, violence (hair-pulling, slapping, punching, kicking, biting, cutting), blood-drinking, sexual assault, rape (oral, anal, vaginal), graphic non-consensual smut

...What'd I tell you?

Part 1 here

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Chapter 2: Over a Barrel

Reader’s POV:

Somehow it’s the sound of the slap that jolts you awake before you notice the pain, but then you do feel it, a hot stinging ache that blooms across the side of your face. You shut your eyes tighter, your head swimming from the lingering drugs in your system and the force of the strike, and feel your body in a strange, unnatural position.

You feel the rough rope binding your wrists, and at the sound of a cranking noise, the ropes are pulled upwards, taking your arms with them until you’re standing on the balls of your feet. Forcing your eyes open, you look up at the squeaky pulleys and the intricate knotwork around your wrists. No surprise; Gus knew his sailors’ knots.

You try to take stock of your surroundings in the dark room, assuming that you’re in a garage or maybe a basement. There are no windows, and the ground is cold concrete that seems to permeate the air of the room, making you shiver. You’re still in your dress but your coat and shoes have been taken off, making you feel vulnerable.

The room is relatively barren, save for a nearby table covered with items. You take notice of a bucket of water, a large cooler, an assortment of knives, and something that looks suspiciously like a branding iron that has your heart racing… Before you can get a closer look, Gus steps between you and the table, taking up your entire field of vision. His rage is simmering under the surface, but you can tell that it’s very much present as he looks down at you. He’s taken off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him in just his white vest and pants, and as you take in the size of his arms you recognize the intimidation tactic for what it is. Not that it was necessary – you didn’t need to see his muscles to know that he could pulverize you without even breaking a sweat.

“Y/N,” he says your name flatly, glaring down at you before walking around you in a slow, wide circle. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he repeats, tsking your name as if mightily disappointed. “What are we going to do with you?”

You don’t say anything – what could you even say? – and sense that he’s right behind you, close but not touching you, and the anticipation has you trembling as you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to give your arms the tiniest amount of slack. You know that Gus is about to start demanding answers, and you’re not sure what to tell him; you don’t know what he knows other than the name Jacob and that you were clearly not someone to be trusted. He could just be under the impression that you were seeing a man named Jacob, or he could know everything.

Suddenly your head is pulled back sharply, his fist tangled in your hair and his other hand reaching around you to grip your throat. You feel your pulse take off against his thumb and swallow thickly.

“I thought that we had something, that we were going somewhere. And we do, honey, and we are, even if you don’t see it yet,” Gus coos reassuringly, even as he tightens his grip on you.

“G-Gus–” you choke out, trying to reason with him, but he hisses in your ear for you to be quiet, releasing your hair to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“Shut up,” he snarls. “You’ll speak when I tell you to.”

He shoves you forward suddenly, your body briefly swaying by your wrists as your feet try to find purchase on the floor. By the time you recover he’s standing in front of you again, looking you up and down in a way that has your hair standing on end.

“Now, you’re gonna answer all my questions, you’re gonna tell the fucking truth, and then we can start to move past this little bump in the road, got it?” You nod mutely and he gives you a pleased, toothy smile in return.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, a large hand cupping your cheek fondly. You try not to wince at the pressure on your tender skin; you’re certain it’s already bruised. “Now, tell me: Who’s Jacob?”

“A friend, Gus, just an old friend.” You try to speak clearly and keep your eyes locked with his, trying to convey sincerity the best you can.

“Yeah? From where?”

“From school, years ago.” You try to keep as close to the truth as possible without revealing information, and ‘school’ was close enough to ‘academy’ to help you pass off the lie. “We worked together for a little while afterwards, but that’s all.”

“Really. And why were you meeting him yesterday? Giving him a thick-looking file?”

“It was just old notes from the office, Gus!” you lie, and you can immediately tell from his expression that he knows it. He backhands you hard enough to make you sway from the ceiling by your wrists, the ropes digging into your sensitive skin.

“What did I say about lying to me, honey?” he hisses, bending over to get in your face and pulling you closer by the hair when you flinch away.

“How is this–” he pauses to reach into his back pocket with his free hand, shoving the photograph in your face, “ –‘just old notes from the office,’ huh?!”

You freeze as you take in the photograph. It’s one of the photographs you’d taken of the stolen goods in Harbour Manor. The same photograph that the waiter had picked up by accident.

“Where did you get that picture?” you ask in a quiet, hoarse voice, already bracing yourself for the answer. He had gotten to Jacob somehow; he was the only person on earth with a copy of that photograph. Gus slaps you again, but you hardly feel it; you’re too distracted about the wellbeing of your friend.

“Remember who’s who in this interrogation, Officer. I’m the one asking the questions around here,” Gus warns, before giving you a cold, mocking smile. “But I’ll humour you, just this once. It was found in Jacob’s car, which was all smashed up on an empty stretch of highway.”

You shut your eyes tightly, a grimace contorting your features. Jacob was a good cop, but a better person. He had a family. He didn’t deserve to die like this, or die at all because of you.

“I guess he wasn’t paying close enough attention to his surroundings, or maybe he just lost control,” he continues, his voice brimming with vindictive pleasure. “It’s incredible how one slip-up, one wrong move can completely destroy someone…” he trails off.

“H-He h-has a wife! He h-has k-kids!” you wail in anguish, your heart breaking for the man and his family.

You’re too wrapped up in your grief to be sure how long Gus stands there in silence, watching you cry as you mourn the loss of your friend, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time. Your body is wracked with sobs despite your unnatural position, tears pouring down your face and dripping down your chin.

“Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Gus croons, pulling you into him and off your feet and holding you against his chest, his hands at your lower back and rubbing in slow circles. “But then, I guess I don’t know much about you at all, huh?”

You don’t reply; you’re not sure you could even if you wanted to. Gus doesn’t take well to your silence, slapping you, shaking you roughly by the shoulders, screaming at you, but you’re only distantly aware of it all, feeling strangely numb and disconnected from your body.

“Look at me, Nat! Fucking look at me!” he roars, and that name has you both freezing and making eye contact with one another for the first time since things had escalated. He stares at you, silently daring you to call him out on his blunder, but you don’t acknowledge it, even though you both know what he’d said. Him referring to you by his ex-wife’s name is a very, very bad sign for you.

“I don’t like hurting you, you know,” he says with a dejected sigh, loosening his bruising grip on your shoulders. “You were becoming the most important thing in my life. You believe me, right? Right!?” he demands, shaking you around like a limp ragdoll. “But I need to let you know that you can’t do this again, honey. No more cops, no more fighting, no more lying; that’s all over. You made me fall for you, Y/N, and I’m not letting you go.”

The passionate way he speaks reveals the depth of his obsession with you just as much as his words, and both positively terrify you, shifting your focus from Jacob to your own situation for the first time. Before you have a chance to speak, he’s bowed his head down to yours, capturing your lips in a ferocious, possessive kiss that you can’t shy away from.

So instead, you kick him between the legs as hard as you can, not thinking of your bound hands or anything else to do with your situation beyond getting him off of you.

He howls into your mouth before staggering backwards and curling into himself. You frantically look up at your hands to see if there’s any way to free yourself, but you know that it’s hopeless, and when you look back at Gus he’s glaring at you with dark eyes, and you know it’s going to be bad.

“I didn’t mean to, it was just a reflex! I–” your excuses are cut off as he punches you in the stomach, pushing the air from your lungs.

“You’re going to pay for that, you bitch.”

Your body instinctively tries to move into the fetal position to protect your stomach, but you can't, dangling from the ceiling as you are, and so you settle for catching your breath and trying not to be sick instead. Once you can breathe a bit more easily you look back to Gus to see him grabbing the large cooler off the table and bringing it over. Throwing the top open, he picks up a large block of ice, setting it down just in front of you without a word and walking off behind you.

The room is silent, save for your shaky breaths. You can’t seem to move your gaze from the ice in front of you, possibilities of what he’s going to do with it, do with you, racing through your mind.

Finally, you hear the clunking noise of a crank being turned and feel the tension of the ropes start to pull you upwards by the wrists, and you close your eyes to try and brace yourself for the incoming pain. Time moves agonizingly slowly as your arms are pulled up higher and higher, your shoulders twinging as gravity fights against your bondage until you’re worried your shoulders will dislocate.

You force your eyes open, looking through your tears for Gus to beg and scream for mercy, and your eyes fall on the ice block once more. You realize now what he’s doing.

Against your mind’s wishes, your body moves to relieve itself of the pressure it’s under, and you climb onto it, the stinging cold immediate on your aching, bare feet. Gus can clearly see you from where he’s working the crank, because it continues pulling your arms up until they’re raised above your head again. The crank is locked in place and Gus casually comes back into view, leaning against the table as he watches you shifting from foot to foot, trying to give the soles of your feet some relief. The pain is a burning cold, and wordless whines escape through your clenched jaw as you grit your teeth.

“G-Gus,” you moan his name, staring at him desperately. “Gus, p-please let me down!” you beg, forcing yourself to push through the pain. You truly have no idea how long you’ve been standing on this block of ice, but it feels like eternity, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

Gus appears unmoved, toying with one of the knives on the table as he drinks in your suffering, his eyes glittering.

“Please, Gus! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please make it stop!” you wail. “I don’t know what you want, but I’ll do it, I swear I will!” you promise, telling yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you came to it.

A slight smile plays at his lips, and he wanders behind you again, lowering the ropes enough to let you step off the ice and lower your arms to your sides with a few feet of slack; enough to move, but not to run. It hurts to stand, but at least you can – you’re surprised that you managed to convince Gus to show you even this shred of mercy. As he comes back to the table you follow his movements with your eyes, trying to get a read on him. Had he hit his limit for torture?

In one fluid motion, he picks up the bucket of water off of the table and pours it over your feet.

The pain is absolutely indescribable.

You immediately collapse to the floor, shrieking like a wounded animal and trying to keep your feet off the wet floor. The rest of your body is telling you that the water is tepid, cool even, but to the frozen and frayed nerves of your feet it feels scalding.

“You’ll do what I want?!” Gus snarls down at you as you writhe on the floor in agony, still screaming. “You promise?!” He kicks you in the ribs, turning you onto your back with the toe of his boot. “What I wanted was to be able to trust you, Y/N, but you had to go and fuck that up.”

There’s a momentary reprieve from his assault as he moves to the table, and then he reappears with a sharp knife in hand, squatting down beside you and levelling you with a crazed, heartbroken look.

“What I want now is to make you hurt the way you’ve hurt me, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He takes the knife in one hand and the hem of your dress in the other, pulling it taut as he starts to cut through the fabric. You try to shy away from him and the blade but he merely tightens his grip and presses down harder. You feel the knife cut through a few layers of skin from your bellybutton to the hollow of your throat, and as he peels your dress off you can see crimson droplets appearing in the wake of the blade.

You stop thrashing and let out a whimper that becomes a gasp as you feel his warm, wet tongue lick up the trail of blood. You shudder, repulsed by the action.

“You’re so pretty when you bleed for me, baby,” he groans against your skin, cutting away your undergarments and leaving you bare on the cold concrete floor.

“I’m gonna make sure every inch of you shows that you belong to me.”

You manage to mentally disconnect from your body – it’s nothing you’ve consciously done, just your brain’s way of protecting you from Gus’s assault. He seems intent on covering every inch of your skin in a mark; a scratch from his nails or his knife, bruises from his teeth and his fists. You distantly hear yourself screaming, feel the dull ache radiating off of every inch of you, but you’re mostly focused on the bare lightbulb above you, the image scorching itself into your retinas. It’s like he’s trying to destroy you, to mash you up with his hands as though you’re made of clay so he can remake you into the loyal girl he thought you were.

Then, suddenly, it stops.

When he kisses you, the touch is so gentle that it jolts you from the surprise; you didn’t think he was capable of such a gesture after all of this. Your body doesn’t respond in any way, just laying limply on the cold hard floor beneath him. Continuing with the gentle treatment, he lifts you into his arms – you’re not sure if you’re not in agony because he’s being careful with you, or if you just can’t feel anymore – and places you on the table, the difference in temperature welcome to your freezing body.

“By the time these heal, you won’t need them to remind you that you’re mine.” He promises, running his hands across your battered body like he’s savouring every mark on your skin. You’re shivering, you’re sweating from just enduring the torture, you’re barely able to stay awake – you’re not sure why you’re bothering to try to at all.

“And if you need a reminder, we can always try something else…” He says, his voice soft and dangerous as he lifts the branding iron into view, turning it over. You see the twisted metal is curved into his initials, G.T., and your stomach roils at the thought.

“No, please!” you whimper, your hand coming up to grab his wrist before you’ve thought about it. He looks from your hand on his wrist up to your eyes, still holding the branding iron, but doesn’t make a move to hit you or remove himself from your weak grip.

“It’ll put you at risk if anyone ever saw it,” you offer weakly, trying to think up a reason for him to not go through with it. He gives you an amused smile, humouring your attempt at persuasion. You bite your tongue, bracing yourself to speak the words that will throw your remaining dignity and self-respect out the window.

“And… I know I’m yours,” you whisper, forcing yourself to maintain his gaze as you search his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. You think you see a shred of vulnerability in those cold blue orbs, and push yourself to exploit it. “I’m all yours, Gus.”

He knows you’re lying, you know he does, but seeing you force yourself to say those words out loud is as good a form of surrender as any in his eyes.

He lowers the branding iron, and you start to breathe again.

He looks down at you, one hand over his mouth as he considers what to do with you, and you don’t even think about moving or speaking, not wanting to set him off again. Finally, he laughs quietly to himself, and the sound immediately has you on edge again.

“All mine, huh? I think we should consummate that,” he says decisively, scooping you up off the table and knocking everything else off of it with a sweep of his arm, sending the torture implements clattering to the floor. He turns you in his arms and bends you over the table, your injuries screaming in protest. You hear him unbuckling his belt and start to panic but he holds you down, leaning over you and pressing you down with his body. Oh God no.

“Did you know that the expression ‘to have somebody over a barrel’ was originally a nautical term?” he asks in your ear, his voice calm and nearly cheerful as he pins you against the table. You can feel him reach between you and start to stroke himself. You don’t speak, you can’t, instead shaking your head in response to his question, hoping that maybe if you obey the best you can he’ll reconsider what he’s about to do. Just the thought has you fighting to keep your body from trembling.

“It’s from when sailors could be disciplined by being bent over a barrel in front of their crewmates and getting flogged,” he continues casually, as though you were discussing the weather. But then a hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking at him upside down, your back arching well past the point of comfort.

“I thought about bringing back that tradition with you, of letting the crew take turns with you for how you tried to fuck us over. I was about ready to let them ruin you, fuck you in every hole until you didn’t know your own name. But no. You’re mine, you fucked with me, and I’m going to dole out enough punishment for everyone.”

You’re hyperventilating, the action drawing your attention to your bruised ribs, but Gus pays you no mind, instead cutting the ropes free from the pulley system to first tie your arms to your sides, and then to tie you to the table, the ropes digging into the sensitive flesh of your waist as you struggle against him. Feeling some of your injuries start to bleed again as the rough rope tears into your skin, you force yourself to stop, one swollen cheek pressed flat against the table. You try to see him through your peripheral vision, but you can’t turn yourself enough with the ropes holding you tightly how he wants you.

“Gus,” you whimper out his name, knowing that trying to talk him out of this is futile but also knowing that you have to try. “Gus, please don’t. Just give me some time, let me heal up a bit, and I – I’ll be willing. I’ll be yours, I won’t fight, but just don’t –”

“Ssshhhh…” Gus hisses, coming to stand in front of you. He pulls you up by the hair, lifting you off the table to face him. You glance down against your better judgement and glimpse his long, thick cock, and your entire body shudders in fear and revulsion. You don’t think that something that big could ever fit inside you comfortably, even if you wanted it. The mere thought of him forcing himself inside you when you were unwilling has you thrashing against your bondage again. Of all the torture you’d been exposed to tonight – the beatings, the ice, the threat of being branded – none of them come close to what this will do to you.

“I’m gonna have all of you, Y/N, you hear me?” He grips your chin roughly, tilting your head so that you’re looking up at him as he speaks. “I’ve got your body, but I want your mind, your heart, your soul… and I’ll have them eventually. For now, I’ll settle for what I’ve got, even if I have to tie you down to take it.”

“No…” you groan, your tears streaming down your cheeks and onto Gus’s hand.

“I know you’re scared, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting. But it’ll get better over time, I promise. Once you can admit you love me like I love you, this is gonna be magic.”

He holds three of his fingers in front of your face, all bundled together, and you shy away. He lets out a long, drawn-out sigh of disapproval.

“I’m offering you a chance to make this better for yourself, Y/N. Suck my fingers, get them nice and wet – it’s the only lube you’re getting.”

Looking up at him with pleading eyes, you reluctantly force your jaw to open, laying your tongue flat against the bottom of your mouth. A rumble emanates from Gus’s chest, his eyes glittering at the show of obedience.

“That’s it, that’s good. Now, no teeth, sweetheart, or you’ll regret it,” he warns, turning your head so that your gaze falls to the branding iron that he had knocked to the floor. You swallow thickly, nodding silently. All you can do is give in at this point, and hope that it makes this process remotely less traumatic.

Gus slides his fingers past your lips and deep into your mouth, making you gag as they brush against your throat. You push past the discomfort, sealing your lips around him. Your mouth is bone dry out of fear and disgust, so you wriggle your tongue along the underside of his fingers, trying to stimulate saliva production. Gradually, it begins to work, and Gus gives you a feral grin of approval.

“Oh, good girl!” he leers, pumping his fingers into your mouth. “Yeah, just like that!”

Eventually he pulls his fingers free with a ‘pop!’ before turning to position his hard cock just in front of your chin. You resist the urge to flinch.

“Spit on it,” he commands, and you obey, doing your best to force saliva out of your mouth, a string of drool connecting your lower lip to the head of his cock. He greedily gathers it with a finger, coating his cock as he moves to walk around the table. You brace yourself, but are unable to keep your body from shuddering. You feel his slippery fingers at your entrance and reflexively lurch forward, the lip of the table digging into your stomach, and force yourself to relax – you didn’t want to give him any reason to be rougher with you.

“That’s right, honey, just relax,” Gus croons, watching you fight your instinct to escape him. He enters you with two fingers abruptly, stretching you out, and you let out a cry of pain. His other hand runs down your spine, the light touch still managing to exacerbate your injuries.

“You look so good like this, Y/N,” he groans, keeping his hand at the small of your back as he withdraws his fingers from you to line his cock up at your entrance. “With every inch of you marked as mine. I’m gonna own you inside and out, so just relax and let me in.”

His hips surge forward to meet yours, his cock feeling like it’s splitting you open and you groan, your nails digging into your palms as you try to distract yourself from his intrusion. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back so he can whisper in your ear, his hips thrusting slow and deep as they open you up. You swear you can feel every part of his cock rubbing at your inner walls, claiming you as his, and every pump of his hips makes you gasp, whiny little ‘ah, ah, ah’s that punctuate his movements within you.

“Oh fuck yes, baby, you’re so tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “That’s it, just let me have you, let me make you mine. Now moan for me, like a good little whore, or I’ll give you something to moan about.”

Something about his words makes something within you snap, and you find yourself dissociating from the experience, feeling like you’re in an almost trance-like state. You moan low and loud, the sound devoid of passion, and simulate making love with him, following his instructions in your ear mechanically. You try to keep your body relaxed and close your mind off to what you’re doing, but his thrusts keep bringing you back to the present.

“Tell me who this tight little cunt belongs to,” he snarls, straightening up and gripping your bruised, bloodied hips in his large hands, kneading and pinching at your tender flesh. “Tell me that you’re mine,” he demands, punctuating every word with a thrust of his cock.

“Ahh yes, Gus! I’m yours, I’m all yours!” you scream, your eyes shut tight like you’re trying to block out your own words. Just when you start to hope against hope that this is almost at an end, Gus pulls out, coming back to stand in front of you.

“Hearing you scream for me is music to my ears, baby,” he purrs approvingly. “Arch up for me.”

You do your best, fighting the ropes and your injured body to straighten up, lifting your head and torso off the table; it’s a deeply uncomfortable position. Gus immediately reaches for you, fondling your chest with rough fingers. You fight to keep yourself upright, staring up at him through your tears. This couldn’t go on forever; you just have to hold out a little longer.

“Suck my cock, Y/N,” he murmurs, the threatening tone out of his voice, and you know that he's testing your obedience. “And you’ll want to be thorough to help you handle what’s coming next.”

Your whole body tenses up at the implication, and he gives you a patronizing smile, lightly slapping at your cheek to get you to open your mouth.

“Never taken it in the ass before, huh? At least there’s one first left for me to have.” He seems insanely thrilled at the thought of claiming any warped form of your remaining virginity, outright grinning at you now as he brings his cock to your lips. “And remember, no teeth, or I’ll change my mind about letting the crew have their turn with you.”

“Gus–” you try to cut in to plea your case, your little dissociative bubble popping at the thought of him taking you in the ass, but the moment you open your mouth he’s thrust himself inside. It’s impossible to even try to speak around his cock, so you don’t bother, saving your breath as he fucks your face.

Tears are pouring down your cheeks and mixing with the drool dripping down your chin, and he hums in approval at the depraved scene before him.

“That pretty little mouth was made to please,” he moans, his balls hitting your chin with the force of his thrusts down your throat. “Do that little thing with your tongue, like you did to my fingers.”

His request has you thinking that if you can get him off, he won’t be able to rape you anywhere else, at least for the moment. Pushing past your mangled pride and dignity, you force yourself to please him as best you can, moaning around his cock, bobbing your head and swirling your tongue around his length like you couldn't get enough.

Gus notices the change immediately, throwing his head back as you let him push past your gag reflex and take him fully into your mouth and throat, your eyes watering. He thrusts into you three more times, holding himself deep inside you before pulling out reluctantly, giving you a wicked smile.

“You almost had me, sneaky woman,” he confesses with a wry grin, tapping your nose almost affectionately. “Almost had me losing control and coming on that tongue.”

You look up at him guiltily, hating that you were caught, and that you’d just willingly sucked the bastard off for no reason. He seems to be able to read your thoughts like they’re written all over your face, and he knows just what to say to make his words sting.

“But I’ll keep in mind how eager you are to give head, my little siren. I’ll make sure you get lots of opportunity for it,” he winks at you conspiratorially, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “But not even your willing, desperate mouth is going to distract me from finishing your punishment, Y/N.”

“Gus, please!” you scream frantically as he starts to walk around the table. “Please, I can’t take anymore! I’ll be good, I’ll be yours, I’ll be anything you want, just please don’t!”

“Oh, baby girl,” he coos, pausing to spit lewdly on your puckered hole, the head of his cock immediately pressing against it. “I know you’re gonna be good, gonna be mine. This is gonna guarantee it.”

It feels like he’s using his entire body, all of his strength to hold you down and spread you open as he forces his cock inside your ass, your throat burning and raw from the force of your shrieks. You dig your nails into your thighs until they bleed as he works his way inside of you, bottoming out after what seems like an eternity.

Gus stills, panting from exertion and sweat dripping onto your battered back and making your cuts sting, though the pain is nothing compared to the sensation of having your organs rearranged from his cock inside you.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “and I thought your cunt was tight. Fucking hell, baby, this body was made to take my cock!” He lets out a breathless chuckle, and you feel it inside of you.

“I’m gonna pound your ass so good, princess, and I want you to beg. I want you to beg for more, beg for me to come in you until I do. And if you don’t, I’ll find something else to fuck you with until you learn to do what I say.”

This was it; you had nothing left. He had taken everything from you. Once you did this (and you would), you’d belong to him.

You don’t try to resist; instead, you fight your body’s instinct to scream and cry and instead force yourself to give him what he wants, screaming his name, begging for him to use you, your moans of pain almost sounding convincing as cries of pleasure. You’ll give Gus what he wants, you’ll do anything to keep this from ever happening again.

Finally, his hips start to stutter, his grip on you tightening, and you know he’s close.

“Guuuus,” you groan, his name one long, pained syllable. “Please come in me!”

He does with an inhuman roar, and you feel him shoot his load deep inside you, marking your insides as belonging to him. His large body pins you down as he catches his breath, and then he shoves off of you, pulling out and gathering his clothes while you lay boneless over the table. You barely notice when he cuts you loose, your body slumping to the ground. You whine, not speaking, not thinking; there’s nothing to think.

Gus comes to stand in front of you, gently wrapping his leather jacket around your mutilated form and lifting you into his arms. Your body is shutting down, your eyes closed as you try to focus on your breathing, and it takes you a moment to realize that he is kissing you, his lips and tongue claiming you as well.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up, baby,” he coos down at you sweetly. “Then we can start over.”

He carries you out of the room slowly. You’re not sure of what you're leaving behind, of where you’ve been this whole time; you pass out before you reach the door. [No picture with good enough quality to be worth including - feel free to send one if you have it!]

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Epilogue