#i know it's a bit of an unorthodox take on the prompt

[daydreamgoddess14]

Complaints Procedure

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

Literally just 1.5k of pure filth. Sorry, not sorry?! 😅Taken from this prompt.

Inspired by this image:

~~~~~

You knew to avoid the locker room immediately before and after matches. The less than stellar performance of the team during the season had seemingly made everyone angry - even Sam was down. Jamie Tartt continued to annoy and degrade everyone who so much as glanced at him, and the so-called Captain looked about ready to throw in the towel. Getting rid of George Cartrick may have been a wise decision, but his replacement was certainly unorthodox. You had your work cut out for you in HR, it was like babysitting 2 year olds - they all still bit, kicked, and scratched. Seeing you always gave them the initiative to put complaints in, complaints that you had to be seen to legitimately deal with, even if dealing with it meant sitting the idiots involved down and giving them a telling off. You had never told off Roy Kent, though. The man terrified and turned you on in equal measure.

Just the low timbre of his voice made your heart pound and flooded your body with want. Training was long over, so you figured you were safe to take some paperwork down to Ted Lasso's office. Your heels clicked on the concrete as you made your way through the maze of rooms. Wage slips for the folks in the ticket office, holiday forms for the staff in the medical and treatment areas, and the weekly update on player relations that Ted had asked you to draft. Who was fighting with who, who had you had to threaten with suspension, and who you'd just had to give an arse kicking to. As you turn to leave Ted’s office, Roy is coming back in from the showers. With just a towel gripped in his hand. You look literally anywhere else. The ceiling tiles become particularly interesting. 

"Oi, what you doing in here?"

"Just dropping some paperwork off, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, just… thought I was alone, that's all." You drag your eyes from the ceiling to his, drawing an invisible line across his nose so you do not look any lower. "See something you like?" He teases, as if he knows it's taking all your will to not look at his chest or the towel. 

"Definitely not. I'm done now, I'll leave you to it." 

 

You're sure you must hold your breath on the walk from the locker room to your office because as soon as you shut the door, it all comes out in a whoooosh. As good-looking as he is, you can't stand his arrogance, dominance, and anger issues. You knew it was nothing new in football or in work at all, really. You'd seen every layer of the food chain, and it was always the top of the tree who thought they were gods gift. You knew he could be kind and thoughtful. You'd seen it for yourself with the younger, less experienced players and with fans too. It was definitely a certain calibre of person who set him off - the Jamie Tartts and George Cartricks of the world. You're still leaning against your office door when you feel and hear it knock. When it begins to open against your back, you have to jump out of the way so it can swing open. Fully clothed, Roy is on the other side. 

"Do I scare you?" He asked, frowning. 

"Course you don't scare me, I'm not a sodding child." You roll your eyes. "Did you need something?" 

"I might need to put in a complaint." You arch an eyebrow at him, 

"Really? Go on?" He took a step closer to you, so you take a step back. 

"I saw the way you looked at me downstairs -" you scoffed, 

"I did not look at you at all. I actively didn't look at you," you start, angry until you see the smirk. "Oh fuck off, did you come up here just for a laugh? I've got enough to deal with picking up 

after Jamie Tartt since he can't stop making everyone miserable." He holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Alright, alright, just a joke," he laughs a little. "You wanted to look though." 

"You are just like the other idiots. So full of your own self importance, you all think everyone wants you." He narrows his eyes and takes another step towards you.

"At the risk of sounding like any of those pricks, tell me you don't?"

"What makes you think-"

"Humour me." He looks at you like he might devour you at any moment, his eyes dark with just a hint of mirth. He knows what you think about when you see him. You feel your breath quicken, and the urge to press your thighs together is desperate, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Before he can catch you in a lie, he forces you to take one final step back against your desk and leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, obscene kiss. 

 

The shock of it makes you gasp, giving him access to deepen the kiss. Your hands grip at his shoulders to keep him close, trying to get him even closer if it's possible. He leans you back against your desk, the edge of it digging into the back of your thighs while his hands are trying to touch as much of you as possible. By leaning back on the desk, he can kiss along your jawline. It would be impossible now to make out that you don't want him, your greedy hands roam up his arms and into his hair and the sighs and moans he's pulling from you with just a kiss are insane. The length of his body presses against the length of yours and you feel him hard against your hip. Feeling how much he wants you only makes you need him more. Your hand brushes across the front of his jeans, making him jerk to meet it. He breaks the kiss and watches you breathlessly as you move to undo the button in the waistband. You can tell he's about to ask if you're sure, so you place a soft kiss to his lips,

"I want you to fuck me," you tell him quietly. There is still just a hint of hesitation in your voice, but it's more a fear that he'll reject you than anything else. 

"Fucking hell." He sighs into you. He grips your hips and turns you to face the desk, you rest on your forearms. He has your skirt rucked up around your waist in no time at all and nudges your feet a little further apart. You don't have the time or inclination to feel embarrassed or to consider something more meaningful. The singular thought in your mind is having him inside you. You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and feel him at your core. His hand cups you first, wanting to check that you're ready. "You're so fucking wet," he mutters almost proudly. He gives your hip a little squeeze of warning and pushes inside you. 

"God, Roy yesss," you hiss as he fills you completely. Fully seated, he pauses just a minute to reach down and sweep your hair to one side so he can kiss your neck, "please, Roy-" you push back against him, desperate for more. He takes the hint and pounds into you over and over. He’s hitting exactly where you need him with each thrust, and it's enough to have you believing in some sort of deity. You can feel the pressure building and you're so close to the edge it's overwhelming. "I'm so close, please daddy-" the words tumble from you, unfiltered and unexpectedly - that is a brand new one for you, and when you feel his pace slow just slightly, you're terrified that you've repelled him. He moans low in his chest and redoubles his efforts, unyielding, until you come hard, crying out his name. 

"Say it again," he whispers against your ear, his body draped over your back. His hand reaches around to rub circles over your clit and you're so sensitive that the payback is almost immediate and you can feel another orgasm building. 

"Fuck, make me come again daddy," you beg. He does exactly that within seconds of you asking, his own release coming at the same time. He holds your hips while your legs shake, his forehead resting on the center of your back. He slips out of you and disposes of the condom before turning you gently to rest you back against the desk. You keep your head down, chin to chest, mortified at what's just happened until his nose nudges against yours and he kisses you softly. 

"Holy fucking shit, I should threaten to complain again, that was insane," he breathes, still holding your hips and trying to get you to look up at him. 

"I shouldn’t ha-"

"No, don't do that. You're definitely going to say it again," he chuckles against you, "I fucking promise you'll say it again." 

 

FIN

[serenescribe]

hi hi Ell 👋 I wanted to send a prompt, so i hope youll find this one nice to think about :)

So we know in canon that Lilia trained Silver and Sebek while they were kids, and that his training was a bit unorthodox to say the least. We also know that Silver thinks the world of his father, that he feels indebted to him for life and that he'd give anything to repay that debt. With those facts I offer you a beloved scenario of mine where Lilia trains Silver and takes it too far but doesn't realise it until its too late.

Maybe he's making him spar, maybe he's asking him to do some insane physical effort, whatever it is he's determined to have Silver execute it perfectly. And Silver is tired, because he's like 12, he's been doing this since dawn and he barely ate any of the lunch his father made him (lets face it it wouldve been worse if he ate it). At this point his body is screaming at him to just stop and rest but he refuses to back down before he gives his father what he wants. The issue is that since he's not feeling his best, he's actually doing worse than he was at the beginning and Lilia of course notices. And maybe its the fact that this setting is similar to the one he was in back when he trained recruits as a general, or maybe he got frustrated that he couldnt manage to get him to do better but Lilia decides to try a different approach to motivate his son. He gets mean; taunting and berating Silver for not making any progress, telling him that maybe they should just stop his training altogether if this is the best he can do. But instead of getting fired up and angry like Lilia expected, like his recruits used to do, Silver completely breaks down. He slumps on the ground in front of him weeping, begging for just one more chance and promising he can do better. The mental and physical exhaustion weighs heavily on him and he swears he won't be a burden in future sessions, swears that he'll train day and night if need be to improve but he pleads his father not to give up on him. And Lilia, completely caught off guard by the situation, has to figure out how the hell to comfort his son and convince him that he didnt mean any of the words he spoke

hope you have a fun time writing bye bye!! 🌟

the way this prompt broke my heart when it first hit my inbox :') but at least it's hurt/comfort for once rather than flat out angst...? i hope i did it justice!

(also thank you to lacky my beloved for helping me with some dialogue bc oh my god writing mean dialogue killed me ;;; sobs)

Clang!

The sound of sword against sword reverberates through the air, accompanied by the haggard, weary sound of someone panting. Lilia narrows his eyes, his sword still outstretched, pressed against that of his opponent — his son, Silver, who is also his student.

Silver’s chest expands and contracts, lips parted as he sucks in another deep breath. The practice blade in his hand trembles before finally, he gives in. The sword drops to the ground below with a clatter.

“I yield,” Silver says, voice strained, dropping to his knees. He raises his arms, conceding in defeat.

But all Lilia can think, staring at his son before him, is that this is not good enough.

He knows what Silver is capable of, has been training his son by his own hands for the past few years. Silver shows plenty of promise, and it is up to Lilia to hone that potential to a perfect sheen, be it physical training or weaponry, such as the sword fights they practise so often. Lessons on survival, giving him tasks to complete in the elements. Things that Silver takes to like a duck to water, obediently heeding Lilia’s every word, carrying out his instructions with ease.

So to witness him concede so easily, dropping to the ground, averting his gaze as his body trembles?

Lilia is disappointed.

In a way, it reminds him of his days as the general during the wars he’d fought. There had been many a soldier who had not taken his instructions seriously, always putting in the bare minimum until he whipped them into shape. All he had to do was set his cold, calculating eyes on them, lips spouting cruel, judgemental words, before they’d be roaring to go. Pride is one of the things that the fair folk value deeply, after all, and back then, the many recruits under his command had not taken kindly to Lilia’s implications that they were as useful as the dirt under his heels.

And so Lilia opens his mouth, and says:

“If this is the best you can muster, then why bother?”

Silver stiffens.

“I’m disappointed, Silver. I’ve seen peasants with no training do better than this.” Lilia’s lips thin, a hand resting on his hip, practice sword still hanging from his other hand. “If you cannot even master the basics, how do you expect to get any better? No, better yet, how do you possibly expect to guard Malleus as his knight if this is the best you can do?”

Lilia’s eyes narrow as he drops into a crouch, arms folded across his knees as he meets his son’s wide eyes.

“I didn’t teach you to be this awful,” Lilia utters, voice entirely flat. “If this is the way you’re treating your training, then perhaps we ought to stop it altogether.” He curls his lip. “Is that not what you’d prefer, given your demeanour?”

Rising from the ground, Lilia holds out his sword, pointing the tip of the blunted blade towards his son’s crouching form.

“I shall allow you one last chance,” he breathes. “Pick up your sword, Silver. Get up now.”

Silver doesn’t respond.

Lilia clenches his teeth. “Pick it up!”

It is only then, when Silver uncurls himself to reach for the discarded blade at the side with trembling hands, that Lilia falters. He watches through widening eyes as Silver raises his head and, instead of the fiery enthusiasm and determination he saw so often in so many of his old soldiers, there is a watery desperation wavering in those big, auroral eyes. Silver’s lips tremble, his movements sluggish, and as he shoves himself onto his feet, Lilia realises—

Silver isn’t being lazy. He’s swaying from side to side, almost stumbling over his own feet, shaking uncontrollably as he raises his blade to meet Lilia’s own.

Oh, he realises, spotting something glistening along those rounded cheeks. Silver is crying.

In that instant, any trace of General Vanrouge, feared and renowned amidst those of the Valley, vanishes, dissipating in the blink of an eye. Left in its place is only Lilia Vanrouge, father of one.

His sword drops to the ground with a clatter. Lilia surges forward, any thoughts of training pushed squarely out of his mind as he wraps his hands around Silver’s shoulders, staring at him with his heart rattling against his chest. Shit, Lilia thinks. He’s well and truly fucked up now, hasn’t he?

“Silver,” Lilia starts, struggling for the words. What can he possibly say here? He reaches up, wipes away a stray tear that rolls down his son’s cheek. “Silver, you— you can drop your sword now.”

“No!” The outburst startles him, Silver’s usually quiet disposition interrupted by the force of his refusal. Silver all but collapses, pulling Lilia down with him; his knees buckle, and he hits the ground with a painful thud. Silver’s free hand reaches up to wipe at his tears to no avail. “I-I can do it! I can fight—”

“You can’t, Silver—”

“P-Please, just—” Hanging his head, Silver sobs brokenly, and it shatters something within Lilia. How had he not noticed all along, how absolutely exhausted Silver was? “J-Just give me one more chance,” his son begs, shaking his head. The grip on his sword loosens, causing the weapon to clatter to the ground. “I swear, I’ll train day and night to improve, I w-won’t be a burden anymore, please—”

“Silver,” Lilia repeats, voice firm, fingers curling tight around his son’s shoulders. He— he’s taken completely aback, caught off guard; he’d expected something akin to the fiery resolution of the soldiers of the past, not… not this.

Silver is twelve, a tiny part of Lilia remembers. His heart seizes again, a reminder that perhaps this time, he had gone way too far. Silver is young, and for Lilia to have treated him the way he would have treated a grown fae…

He’s not the general anymore. There’s no need for him to train Silver to such rigid standards.

Slowly, Lilia leans forward, wrapping his arms around Silver’s back. He pulls the sobbing boy against his chest, murmuring soft words under his breath in a bid to reassure him. And for a while, that’s all they do — Lilia, holding his son in his arms, ignoring the ache in his knees as he rubs Silver’s back gently, and Silver, who blubbers apologies and pleads for leniency until his begging collapses into crying, and he buries his head in the fabric of Lilia’s sweat-stained shirt.

Eventually, when Silver’s cries peter out into a sniffling silence, Lilia pulls away from him. He reaches out to cup his cheek, thumbing at the tearstained skin with a sad smile across his lips. “How do you feel now, dear?”

Silver bites his lip, eyes flicking away. He sniffles, before he mumbles, “I… I’m okay now, Father. I can fight.”

“I think we’ve had enough sparring for today, actually,” Lilia sighs wearily. When he sees the way Silver stiffens at his words, he adds, “That is a decision made on my account, not yours. I am not disappointed in you, Silver. Far from it; I am only disappointed in myself for not noticing how exhausted you are… far more than usual, anyway.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Lilia chides, though his tone is light. He exhales. “I think we should perhaps clean up for the day. And then I’ll see to dinner, hm?”

“I’ll help you!” Silver blurts out, a little shakily, and Lilia smiles. Even after everything, Silver is still so willing to help… Truly, Lilia would not have faulted him at all if he would have liked to take some time to himself, especially after he so carelessly spouted such cruel words towards his son.

As Lilia rises to his feet, holding out a hand to help his son up, Silver meets his eyes. He hiccups. “So… you’re not mad at me…?”

“I am not,” Lilia assures, leaning in to pull the boy into another hug. “And…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I am truly sorry, Silver, for pushing you that far. I should not have said what I did.”

And from the way Silver relaxes in his hold, pulling away to give him a small smile, Lilia knows that this will be enough, for now.

[somereaderinblue]

Deadmeat Rem AU

We've seen Twin Swap AUs & recently, I've thrown my own hat (re: Purple Hyacinth AU) into the loop. However, upon rereading @lost-technology's Survivor's Guilt fic & going through our dms, I propose a more unorthodox role swap prompt:

AU where Vash & Rem swap places.

Vash is a Plant engineer who became a SEEDS navigator after losing Alex (he can be Vash's bf or relative in this AU). He's there when Tesla is born & has to live on after her (murder) death (which was his fault, he should've been better, should've done more, fought harder, they were gifted an angel & they slaughtered her). He's the goofy dad who's there through the twin's formative years, desperately trying to be better because he knows his best isn't & never will be enough.

And okay, I'm spitballing a bit here, but imagine: how would this impact Rem? The poignancy of her character comes from her role as much as her personality. In canon, she seemed to be an only child, so how would having Nai as an older brother affect her? How would she handle the Humanoid Typhoon's role? We, as the audience have only known canon!Rem through the 1 year Vash spent with her & snippets of her past, so how would her 150 year life span go?

Or if you want to shake things up further, maybe Nai & Tesla swap roles too. Maybe Nai is the one born first. A boy Plant who could produce metallic material, a weapon at worst & a tool at best. They name him Knives so no one forgets that & Vash nicknames him Nai to say 'no, I do NOT agree with that!'.

Thus, Tesla (maybe with electricity powers??) is the one who decides to end humanity because god forbid women commit crimes /j. Is this is also lowkey inspired by @shelternmberone's Roleswap AU? Yes. GIVE US MORE VILLAIN TESLA AUS!

If you want to go another mile: maybe Luida & Brad take Meryl & Milly/Roberto's places as Ship 3's residents & investigative reporters/insurance agents respectively.

Anyways, what I'm trying to say is, the sky's the limit rlly, which is the whole point of AUs like this.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 21: Get On With It

Pairing: Siren Hunter x Doctor Reader

Summary: An enchanted ship gets annoyed when you and Hunter take too long to get together.

Author’s Note: My graduation ceremony exhausted me so sorry if this is a bit disjointed.

Warnings: flipping off a sibling, but that’s it.

Word Count: 1190

Prompt: We’re a crew of five now. One immortal, one siren, one stormseer, and one messer. No one knows what I’m here for, but when the ship wants to hire you, its very difficult to say no.

Prompt 3038 by deepwaterwritingprompts

You think you're going crazy when you first hear it: the calling. You're working on the Negotiator as a doctor and while this is all fairly new to you, you’re enjoying the work. The Mer clones of the 212th are kind and General Kenobi is a joy to work with. Even if you and Commander Cody have to drag him to the medical bay for treatment sometimes.

When a small black ship pulls up beside the Negotiator, you don’t think much of it. Apparently Commander Cody needed the unorthodox help of a special forces squad of Mer clones. The call starts as a whisper that you can barely make out. Eventually you can hear it crystal clear throughout the day. It’s an invitation to come aboard to work.

As it becomes more insistent, you follow it to the negotiator’s railing and stare down at the Marauder. It was definitely the source of the strange voice. As you look down, it then becomes clear why the voice is becoming more insistent; they are preparing to leave.

“So are you going to go?” The General asks, coming up beside you. You had forgotten Jedi can hear callings not meant for them. “Enchanted ships are picky about inviting people aboard and it usually means your fate is tied to the ship. At least for a time.”

“I- I am I allowed to?” You ask softly. You want to go, but honestly you’re afraid. Messing with any kind of magic outside everyday enchanted items is something you have long avoided.

“I can sign the documents to transfer you.” Kenobi states simply. “It’s genuinely your choice to heed the call or not.”

“So you’re who the Marauder has been summoning.” You flinch in surprise and watch the General cover a smirk with his hand. Tech suddenly appears next to you and begins firing questions. You don’t mind and want to learn more about the ship that keeps calling you, but you glare at General Kenobi for not giving you prior warning he was coming over. He just smiles at you and goes on his way.

We’re a crew of five now. One immortal, one siren, one stormseer, and one messer. No one knows what you’re here for, but when the ship wants to hire you, it's very difficult to say no. Tech handles most of the medical care so you feel a bit redundant, but enjoy getting to know each crew member.

Since joining, you no longer hear the ship speak, but hearing Tech translate the creaks and moans keeps life interesting. Gonky is a very sweet turtle familiar and he’ll often come sit with you to sunbathe.

Tech, the messer, is constantly taking care of the ship and gathering new details on every island you all visit. You find that, while he is perfectly capable of physically stealing knowledge from enchanted documents, seeking knowledge in general just fascinates him. You find yourself enjoying going down random ash rabbit holes with him.

Wrecker surprises you by being the stormseer, just as able to read the ocean’s weather as he could a crew mate’s heart. You more than enjoy goofing around with the black powder expert, but also him being there when you needed a shoulder to lean on.

Crosshair is the immortal. You see him make impossible shots with a bow, sniping enemies from far away. Every once in a while, he walks away from a fight with a wound for a corpse. He just smirks at you and heads to Tech for help.

Lastly, there’s Hunter, the siren. His enhanced senses and distracting song have gotten you and the rest of the squad out of more trouble than you can count. He’s the one you have slowly, but surely gotten the closest with.

You lean over the Marauder's railing late one night. Your mind spiraling down a dark hole about why you’re even here. You aren’t of any help. The squad was doing just fine before you arrived and you hadn’t majorly changed anything. Perhaps the ship chose wrong.

You are so deep in thought you don’t see Hunter’s black and red fin in the water. There is a soft tune in the air that you don’t really hear. It just makes your shoulders relax and promises there is a purpose to you being here. Hunter grows worried when he sees one of his less intrusive songs doesn’t help. He then hops out of the water over the opposite railing, returning to human form.

‘What could be stressing you so much that your heart was beating that fast?” Hunter quietly thinks to himself as he sets his helmet to the side and takes the spot next to you.

“You’re spiraling.” You blink back to reality to see Hunter standing next to you. Your next words die on your tongue as you see his face illuminated by the moonlight. Your eyes linger on the tattoo before quickly looking back out at the still water. He chuckles softly; the flirting had slowly increased over time in any quiet moment the two of you got together. These were rare.

“I’m fine.” You mutter trying to wave him off though you were smiling nonetheless. He arches an eyebrow and you sigh. “Maybe not perfectly fine. I just can’t sleep.”

It’s quiet for a moment before the ship creaks like it wants something specific to happen. You both look around confused before searching the deck for something wrong, but find nothing.

“What do you think that was about?” You ask as you turn back to him. Hunter shrugs, but seems to glare down at the deck in retaliation for interrupting the moment. It’s your turn to laugh and he turns his attention back to you, making him smile.

“Sweetheart, I…” Hunter pauses and you watch his Adam’s apple move with his gulp. “I could help with that if you want.”

“Yes, how?” The ship seems to get irritated and you feel the deck bend underneath your feet. Unable to keep balance, you crash headfirst into Hunter and he wraps his arms tightly around you. You stare at one another; both your faces darkening with a blush.

“The Marauder says to get on with it!” Tech’s voice breaks through the night, making you both jump. Hunter curses under his breath before kissing you. You let out a surprised squeak before melting into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. It was a long kiss and full of months of longing.

Once you pull apart, he flips Tech off as said brother headed inside; your whole body shakes with laughter. Hunter turns his attention back to you and your stomach somersaults at the contently happy look on his face.

“Do you want company?” Hunter asks, leaning his forehead against your own. You peck the corner of his mouth as your fingers play with his hair. Suddenly you're hit with the thought that maybe this was why the Marauder had hired you. You quickly realize you’re not upset if that’s true. If this was your fate, you would more than happily meet it with open arms.

“If it’s you, pretty boy. Always.”

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 14 || 874 Words || Read on Ao3 —

“I didn’t need your help back there,” the woman bites as she passes him, leading her horse through an alleyway. Her cheeks are red when James catches up with her, and he can see the tension in her jaw, the way her green eyes sparkle with determination as she tucks strands of rich copper hair back beneath the safety of her riding hood.

He bristles at this. “My apologies, miss,” he replies with exasperation, palms open as he gestures in the direction of the fray they’d just escaped. “I must have mistakenly assumed that with three of the King’s guards after you and no weapon on your person that you may have been in need of someone interceding.”

“Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“You said it yourself, three of the King’s guards are after me, why do you not see me as a threat?” Her eyes flash. “Is it because of my sex?”

James is silent. She’s quick to anger, and he’s trying to figure how best to admit that it wasn’t what she assumed, but it was how he was struck by the glimpse of fear he had seen when the guards had blocked the exits of the town square.

It doesn’t seem a wise confession.

“I can’t quite explain it,” James answers instead, head slightly shaking as he takes a careful step towards where she checks the security of the bags on her horse. When she turns around, he notices they’re closer than he realized as a surprised breath reaches his ears, her eyes gone a little wide. “You just seemed like someone who needed an escape.”

It’s the woman’s turn to be silent as her eyes continue to stare into his, and James doesn’t know  what’s going through her mind, her face remaining unreadable. 

“Where will you go?” he asks, and her brows furrow at the question.

“Away.”

“Away? Do you not have a destination?”

She turns around, breaking their lingering gaze as she continues to fuss over her animal. “My destination is wherever I please, and none of your business.”

“I don’t—Will you be alright? I don’t know how it sits with my conscience letting you go away with no plans or way to defend yourself.”

“I don’t need saving or protecting. I’m not the damsel in distress to your gallant knight.” She insists, and James finds himself struck as she easily pulls herself onto her horse, stroking its chestnut mane as she contemplates her next words. “If it eases your conscience, you can join me.”

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. Her eyes are fixated on her horse, not on him, and he thinks it might be a sliver of vulnerability cracking through her aloof exterior. James doesn’t know if she’s being facetious or if it’s a genuine offer, but he feels a strange pull that sees him stepping a little closer to the horse.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“I said alright. I’ll join you.” He appraises her, brows raising. “Unless you didn’t mean it.”

She stares back, a sigh finally escaping through her lips before her hands tighten on the reins of the horse. “Very well. Come along.”

James blinks a couple of times, still a bit in shock from this whole exchange, before approaching. He strokes the animal’s mane, placing a hand securely on the back of its neck for leverage.

“What are you doing?”

Her sharp voice is muddied by a slight hint of amusement, and James looks up at where she sits with confusion. “I’m…coming with you?”

“This is my horse.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t lead my horse.” The woman jerks her head behind her, signaling his place in all of this. “You’re behind me.”

He feels the heat rush to his face as the situation settles. Balking at the idea of it—knowing it means he’d have to wrap his arms around her for balance and feeling a traitorous stirring within—he tries to make her see his dilemma. “But that’s…” improper, he wants to say, but realizes how foolish that would sound in the midst of all these hurried, unorthodox plans.

“If you have a problem with it, you can stay.”

“No, no…I’ll…” he gestures to the horse as he moves to mount behind her, sucking in a breath at the warmth of her body so close to his, arms carefully wrapping around her waist. She stills at his touch and he panics, looking for a way to bridge this awkward moment as the ludicrousness of what they’re doing settles in. “I’m James, by the way. James Potter.”

“Evans,” she offers in response with a glance over her shoulder, and though he notes the absence of a first name, he doesn’t pry. 

Instead, he lets out a chuckle. “Evans? Any relation to the King?”

The few seconds of silence weigh heavy on him, somehow saying more than her words ever could. His stomach knots with the implication, and he tries to convince himself that he’s just on edge.

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

And without wasting another moment, her heels dig into the side of the horse and they’re off—all thoughts of a runaway princess disappearing from his mind as his arms tighten around her in hopes of not falling.

[light-lanterne]

Hi! Idk if you're into it, but can I request some Byler and vivisection please? Look it up if you don't know what it is, I get the feeling it's right up your alley

hello ! thanks for the ask ~! a lovely mutual (rori) has been sharing stuff about it here and there so i know what it is, don't worry :]

anyway, you'll forgive the uninspiring scenario and the massive departure from your prompt, but i'm a little dry on creativity these past couple days so this is the only thing i could come up with. i hope it's enough:

tw // abundant, vivid, semi-anatomically-correct descriptions of gore - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - a short offering @boycattj, @byelerss, @catboy-cabin, @cosmobrain00, @dark-quill, @conanssummerchild, @fenixashes, @fluffyfangirl, @foodiewithdahoodie, @holyvirgilscriptures, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @rotisseries, @wheelersboy, @yearninginblue.

s5 scenario where byler are trapped by themselves in the upside down. they are lost, tired, they've been fighting quite a lot and they just want to find somewhere safe to spend the night and recover a little bit of their strength.

luck, however, isn't on their side and they get mauled by a pack of demogorgons. they manage to outrun most of them via trickery and deception; they even manage to kill a couple.

but it's not enough and, just when they think they're finally safe, a lone beast follows their tracks and finds their hiding spot, attacking and ripping to shreds the belly of one of them before the other is able to do anything and neutralise the threat via bashing them in the head with a bat.

so, the demogorgon is dead and the one who killed it (could be either mike or will) takes a moment to recover his breath, then turns around and notices just how bad the other is doing so he rushes to his side. kneels by him. of course, he quickly realises the blood loss is almost too much and starts to crack under the pressure of what's happening, but he keeps trying and even manages to stop most of the bleeding with one hand...

...but then shock sets in and the heart stops, and the one still awake —who again, only has one hand available since they're still trying to stop the bleeding with the other— is forced to take a rather unorthodox approach towards saving the other's life.

if it's mike, it's because of his unyielding determination and stubborn resolution to not let vecna win after everything that's happened. if it's will, it's because of his love for mike and maybe because he's lost a little bit of sanity throughout the last few months of their struggle, with the constant nightmares and taunting vecna's been subjecting him to non-stop.

whoever it is, he's a little deranged over the situation and thus, he doesn't hesitate to stick his hand inside the tear —careful not to be too forceful in an effort to keep the guts intact—, then slides it under the sternum and pushes past the liver, stomach and diaphragm and reaches towards the heart, erratic spasms from the lungs a clear indicator of how quickly the other's condition is deteriorating and how urgent the situation is.

so he keeps going. and at first, the fingertips barely touch the muscle, the blood is slippery and makes it so the heart keeps moving further into the ribcage, and it's a rather awkward angle so he has to consistently rearrange the position of his hand. but then he figures it out, pushes a little bit deeper —closer—, and finally manages to get a firm hold onto the heart and squeezes.

gently, softly. he has no idea what he's doing but he's determined and he's already in so deep (literally) so he's not going to stop.

thus, he massages the heart and tries to make the blood flow from one chamber into the other —just like mr. clarke showed them in biology class—, then maybe even moves their position a little so he can attempt to give some rather-ineffective mouth-to-mouth, barely any air making it past the throat due to the atrocious angle, yet enough air entering the lungs to inflate them a little and pushing them closer to the hand that's still in there.

little by little, for several minutes, he keeps struggling to reanimate the heart and get it back in working order until, finally, the demogorgon's poor victim takes a deep, tortured breath and the heart beats a couple times on its own, its rhythm slow and uneven but at least it's there.

moreover, there are yells in the distance and they've been there for a while, but the boys were a little busy to notice and it is only now that they realise it's their party and thus, help is on the way and everything is going to be fine and it is! the others arrive promptly and help the unfortunate teenagers through their conundrum, then a few weeks go past and the upside down is out of their lives so everything should go back to normal soon.

and for the most part, that's exactly what happens. life is not quite what it used to be before the gates opened —much less before will was even taken—, but slowly, the anxiety and nightmares the entire party now suffers start decreasing as time goes by and it's probably only going to be a couple years before they can all feel a sense of peace and calm at long last.

but during the quiet nights, when they're completely alone in their bedrooms with nothing but their own thoughts as companions, mike and will keep thinking back to that moment. to when one of them had to do something so odd to save his life.

for the receiver, it's a little confusing since it's all a blur, the strange, phantom sensation of having a hand around his cardiac muscle somehow entwining with the endorphin rush produced by the delusional daydreams he was having at that moment, on the brink of death, when the pain of what his body was going through was no longer being registered in his tired brain, and thus, the pressure of a foreign object in his chest somehow being logged in his mind as something that felt nice.

for the giver, however, it's all much clearer. much more vivid. if he focusses enough, he can still feel the warmth of the blood and smooth innards against his palm, all over his skin and under his nails; the pressure of the viscera pushing against his fingers, the space tight and clearly not meant to house any more mass, yet squishy and malleable and able to make enough room for the slim hand; the blood inside the heart moving from one side to the other, the sensation not too different from that of playing around with a water balloon...

...the bizarre feeling of the lungs expanding and breathing in life at the very end, his hand suddenly trapped and unable to move by the increased volume, almost as if the inside of his loved one's body was trying to hold him and keep him there, unmoving for just a little bit longer, nestled between some of the most important organs in the entire human body (the very organs he'd just reanimated and essentially returned life to with his very breath and gentle force).

so he lays in bed, hand extended towards the ceiling, the light from outside his window illuminating his fingers, and he pictures how they looked back when he finally pulled out to give room for the others to finish saving the other's life.

he pictures his hand covered in crimson blood, the likes of which was too quick to get cold upon being in contact with the air, then sighs in melancholy as he chases after the memory of the wonderful heat and pressure he'll unfortunately never get to feel again.

- the end -

(now that this is done, i must ask,,, is vivisection a weird kink ? >.< not shaming in the slightest (and this isn't technically vivisection so it's not even right), but i was writing the last couple paragraphs when it hit me that not everyone is an aroace ex-med student like yours truly so i was just going with the vibes while it is entirely possible that anon had a different angle when sending their request x.x oh well, it's done. thanks for the ask, for reading, and for letting me write weird stuff !! have a lovely day / night ~)

[inscrutable-shadow]

Whumptober 2023 Day 6 - Opening Act

@whumptober-archive

Alt Prompt - Lab Rat

In at the wire, amirite? And a form experiment? During Whumptober? Less likely than you'd think! I can't put a readmore in a chat format I am so sorry hopefully the new post shortening feature is sufficient ;-;

I don't feel comfy deciding how much of the Doc's backstory is canon to FCD right now so have a new banner, I guess. They should be about nineteen here, and this is one of their first subjects. Have them being horrifying for a bit lol.

contains: gore, medical experimentation, medical malpractice, lab whump

also available on ao3!

Partial audio recording recovered from raid of former Astra Group research facility. Subject has been identified from accompanying documents as subject 003-CV. [rustling sounds, as if the recording device is being worn around the DOCTOR’s neck. their voice is louder than 003’s because of the resonance.] 003: W-What are you going to do to me? DOCTOR: (brightly) Mm, well, I was thinking, given your broad shoulders and larger than average chest cavity, that you would be an excellent subject for my experiments regarding the integration of a secondary pulmonary system into a living human. I believe I have found a pair that will quite fit you.[sound like velcro pulling and leather stretching] DOCTOR: Ah, take care when you pull at the restraints! They are quite secure. I would not want you to injure yourself. 003: Extra lungs? What do I need extra lungs for? DOCTOR: Just think of the applications! You could hold your breath for twice as long. With some additional modifications, perhaps even breathe in and out at the same time. Much more efficient. Though, well, you are unlikely to do either. I am not arrogant enough to assume that my first attempt at this procedure will be that successful. 003: So I’m going to die? DOCTOR: Like as not, yes.  003: Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm? DOCTOR: Me? Oh, certainly not! Even if I were in the habit of making promises I did not intend to keep, my education was… unorthodox. Not that I truly mind spinning public falsehoods, but life is easier when you keep those to a minimum, I think. [the clinking of metal tools] DOCTOR: Plus, I believe those sorts of ethical quibbles only hold the art of medicine back. To truly drive progress forward, we must be willing to do what was previously held to be impossible. 003: Wait! Er, why are you doing this? Surely there’s some other way to- DOCTOR: Ah, I see. You are working with a faulty premise. I am not some young, idealistic doctor blinded to ethics by their drive to seek the truth. On the contrary, I do this because I love it! [DOCTOR laughs] DOCTOR: Slicing through skin, pulling apart sinew, grinding through bone, I find it all absolutely delightful. Hold still a minute, quick pinch coming… 003: (slurred) What… what’d you give me? DOCTOR: That should numb the pain and prevent you from moving. It is a little experimental thing I have been working on. We shall see if it works, no? 003: Please… no… DOCTOR: Hush, love. The less you talk, the less it will hurt. [slicing sounds. 003 screams.] DOCTOR: (gleefully) Oops. I lied. [more slicing sounds. 003 continues to wail and moan.] DOCTOR: (giggling) Pardon me a moment. Need to… step away to compose myself… Ah, this is incredible! [their voice is muffled, as if pressing a hand over their surgical mask. the laughter’s volume is unchanged.] 003: You’re insane! DOCTOR: (still laughing) Oh, certainly! Glad to see you understand! [more giggles and a few deep breaths, then the slicing sounds resume.] DOCTOR: Oh, this is my favourite part. [the whirring of a bone saw. the DOCTOR hums a folk tune, possibly ‘Daisy Daisy’. 003 screams louder than previously, but is cut off. recording ends.]

taglist: @athenswrites, @i-eat-worlds, @demondamage you seem invested in doc stuff so idk if you want to be tagged? just let me know!

[fruchtfleisch-art]

microfic prompt: blood :D

Blood :D

Kirashino microfic #1/?: Blood

On Thursdays, Shinobu dresses up, takes the train into town, and meets a serial killer for lunch.

It sounds dramatic boiled down to base facts, like she’s his accomplice, or a future victim. It’s not hard to imagine the police report. Mrs. Kawajiri met the suspect at 1317 hours at his place of work. The suspect lured her to a secondary location, where he then…

Well, she’s not exactly sure how he does it. Or why. Would it be better or worse, knowing all the grisly details?

Today, their secondary location is a gravel trail running parallel to the beach, the sky above them achingly bright and blue. Breakers pound against the coastline and recede with a hiss, water sluicing through sand and pebbles, leaving skeins of foam in a yellow-white tangle on the shore.

They hold hands as they walk, companionably silent. Kira’s wearing a new cologne, a smoky jasmine scent. Shinobu tries to remember what Kosaku used to smell like and finds herself unable to muster more than a passing interest, as insubstantial as seafoam. What does it matter? Her husband is gone now, spirited away by the same power that let the killer at her side take his face and his fingerprints and his wife. Good riddance.

Kira seems content with Kosaku’s appearance, his job, his role in their family, but he’s sloughed the rest like snakeskin. He hums when he’s happy, talks to himself when he thinks he’s alone. He obsesses over details and gets irritable when the world fails to conform to his perilously high standards. He has expensive, occasionally unorthodox tastes. When they get lunch, he always finds something interesting for dessert. Peach and ginger galette. Lemon cake with pistachio and cardamom. Vanilla ice cream dusted with espresso powder, speckled with black pepper, drizzled with balsamic vinegar.

“I’ve come to appreciate a little novelty in my life,” he’d said when she asked, the underlying message clear as a bell and substantially sweeter.

That’s something the police report would definitely leave out. His sweetness.

Today they’re having strawberry and basil jamupan, one each. Kira catches a dribble of jam before it can fall into her lap.

“Careful, dear,” he says. “We don’t want to make a mess, do we?”

An image rises in Shinobu’s mind as she brings her hand to her mouth and licks syrupy, savory filling off her fingers, Kira’s eyes on her like a physical weight. She remembers waking up from a hazy nightmare, stumbling downstairs still half-asleep. Opening the fridge for a bottle of water, acrid yellow light snapping on as the door swings wide. A severed human hand on the top shelf, next to a box of takeout.

A severed human hand. Thick, jellied clots of blood drooling from the stump, oozing past crushed shards of carpal bones and strips of muscle. Darker bits of blood flecking the shelf and interior wall, drying to scab consistency. The fingers stiffly curled, the nails immaculately groomed but bearing the bruise-purple pallor of death. A hand in her fridge.

It was gone in the morning, almost like she had dreamed it. Kira had come home from work with flowers and kisses and Shinobu had ignored the bulge in his suit jacket pocket, turned the tv off when a news bulletin started about a new missing person case.

“No,” she tells Kira, “I don’t.”

Better or worse? Hard to say.

[gatalentan]

14!

Abbott Elementary Prompts || 14. Most emotional scene:

Of course you would send me this one you little shit (affectionate).

This one is unbelievably easy for me, and I suspect will be a pretty common answer. The dyslexia scene from Readathon. A lot of it has been said about it, much more eloquently than I could, but for me - and I'm going to be very real here for a moment - here's why:

I think, for anyone who has a learning disability, this scene hit like a ton of bricks. For so many of us, especially that are a bit older and there wasn't the understanding there is now, or that live in areas that just don't have the funding for special educational infrastructure to give us the extra care we needed, this scene was a kind of wish fulfilment. A Miss Honey in Matilda kind of moment. An "I see you, and what you experience is ok". I'm on the spectrum, and if just one of my teachers - any adult in my life, in truth - had helped me realise that my learning difficulties were something to work with, not fix or punish me for, I think maybe my educational trajectory would have gone a little differently. But I never had an opportunity like that. I had good teachers, but they didn't have the training. That was something I had to figure out how to adapt all on my own. I think that's common for many people. But adaptations and support is out there, and this scene is a reminder to anyone viewing that, whether it's their own disabilities or someone else in your life. That it's ok to have to use different strategies to reach the same goal. It doesn't make you any lesser. What you're going through matters.

Mel's a beloved character, and she puts a human face on having a learning difficulty, something that has very little representation in tv and movies, in a way that isn't patronising or othering, because this isn't a character you can other as a viewer because of the way she's built. Melissa's tough as nails, it's her defining characteristic. They took one of the strongest characters, someone who takes absolutely no shit from anyone, and not only gave us a deeper understanding of one of many reasons to explain the way she is the way she is, but put a completely new lens on how we've seen her teaching be at times more unorthodox or strange. Gave an example of learning disability as a lived experience, not just as a theoretical type of oppression. Her and Ava are both similar in this regard (with different obstacles): both in their roles in the cast as the comic relief, approaching stuff/saying outlandish things that make other characters pause, but that humour comes from somewhere. It's a compensation, it's a deflection, it's drawing attention away from the soft parts. It's adapting to an environment that didn't make life easy for you. So by giving these interesting depths of backstory to two characters who, normally, you can relax around, as a viewer - because both Lisa and Janelle are stand-up comedians, and the skill of a natural comic is that when they have the mic, you know you're in safe hands and can relax - it disarms you. It makes you go oh. It softens their otherwise very spiky edges. It's fantastic framing. It's great writing and characterisation. The book scene in Readathon is such a fantastic example of how full of heart this show is, while otherwise being light-hearted and easy to watch. This scene made me cry, and it's really important.

[thehypotensivegrad]

The Adviser (19/45) | Bechloe Mafia AU

In this War, What is Truth? Chapter Preview - Read the rest at ao3

Aubrey wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting when Beca said it was time to do things her way. Technically speaking, they were already doing that. She wondered briefly if it meant that the gloves were coming off, if the childish schemes and pranks, the unorthodox way of doing things, were about to end. But no, Beca still had her drawn lines. She just expanded them.

"They deserve a lifetime of misery, after all," Beca had said when she had explained her plan the night after they found the victim's family.

The police insistence on barely investigating and chalking things up to suicide was highly suspicious. Beca was convinced they've been paid off, and quite possibly they too were paid off back when Chloe was arrested. If anything, they've probably been on Babel's payroll for a while. Aubrey couldn't help but agree.

Lilly came back with info after a bit of digging. The two detectives in charge of the case had been living a rather lavish lifestyle, at least compared to other police detectives. Beca figured they were probably being paid cash in secret, because their banking records showed no anomalies. Still, they were spending more than what they earn, even when they took into account their respective spouse's income.

Chloe did some of her own sly digging. She was fueled with a new desire for taking down her former law firm. She reached out to her old co-workers, trying to figure out who was getting fed up or frustrated with how things were being ran. She hit jackpot with Jack, a lawyer who entered the firm the same year she did. Jack did a lot of impressions during company parties. Apparently, the Kommissar had taken a liking to them and he has been turned into her personal jester, making impressions whenever she wanted.

Jack was instrumental to their current revenge plot. Chloe invited him for coffee. As pre-planned, Aubrey arrived soon after, after Chloe and Jack had gotten the pleasantries out of the way. Basically, if Chloe sensed that Jack would crack and inadvertently help them, Aubrey would arrive, and Beca soon after, to make a deal. Aubrey was going to appeal to his morality, and Beca was going to deliver him an offer he can't refuse, because, as Beca said, everyone had a price, and Chloe knew that Jack dreamed to be part of the legal team of a multi-national company. If he didn't, then Chloe would subtly text Aubrey to make a change of plans and it would be Lilly convincing Jack to help them while on his way home.

Thankfully Jack was so done with everything at DSM that he sang like a canary and spilled tea.

He hated how they were basically doing grunt work. He didn't know of the more nefarious – or rather, under-the-table politicking – that was going on with the firm until the Kommissar dialed it up to a thousand.

Aubrey didn't even have a chance to butt-in with her impassioned speech of why Jack should help them. She didn't need to. He fessed up that Kommissar had sent him to pay police detectives for some recent cover up without being prompted to. He wasn't sure what it was about, just that he needed to make the deliveries for the payment twice at the abandoned 7 story parking lot of the old, also abandoned, mall that Aubrey, Beca, and Chloe had once upon a time used as well.

Jack was still going on and on about his plight when Beca arrived.

And Beca being Beca, managed to smoothly take over the one-sided conversation. "You know, I have a friend in Lamborghini saying something about an opening in their legal team. Someone willing to move to Milan."

That was all Beca needed to say for Jack to be all ears.

Aubrey would be lying if she said she wasn't at all impressed.

Which brought them back to the old abandoned mall. On the seventh floor of the parking garage, to be specific.

They set up a sting operation wherein Jack made the drop and the detectives came to pick up the dough. Emily was ready to snap photos for proof before being sent home, Aubrey reasoned, she didn't need to be involved with what happened next.

What happened next was that Lilly knocked the two detectives out, and Beca had Justin and Tommy tie them onto two swivel chairs separately. Their legs were tied in such a way so that their feet could barely reach the ground. The chairs were also raised up to maximum height to help do so. Afterwards, the two chairs were tied together, back-to-back, and they were carried up towards the seventh floor where the old barricades that surrounded the enclosure of the parking garage had worn out. They were placed a few meters away from the now open ledge.

Beca always dressed in black when she meant business, at least, that's what Aubrey had observed. She had worn an all-black suit ensemble, paired with sleek black oxfords, and her long brown hair tied back. Aubrey watched her as Beca stood in front of the detectives, waiting for them to wake up, once again fiddling with the lid of her lighter. The sound it made Aubrey soon associated with Beca's scheming. That and her personal brand of justice.

She stood a few feet away from Beca, arms crossed. To her right was Chloe who looked deep at thought. Aubrey could tell she was still upset by Babel and DSM's latest schemes. She would worry more about how things are taking a toll on Chloe if her best friend didn't have Beca by her side. The two of them had still been living together, despite Chloe receiving a call recently that the work being done to her home was completed. Whether Beca knew or not, Aubrey wasn't sure. What she did know for certain was that Beca Bella cared a lot about Chloe. She could anticipate the redhead's needs beforehand, always three ready with a cup of coffee, or water, or snack, and anything else that Chloe needed, especially during the last few days they've been working together to give Babel what's coming for them.

Beca smirked and stopped fiddling with the lighter once the two detectives stirred awake and started trying to free themselves.

"I wouldn't bother if I were you," Beca then said.

"This is illegal!" cried one of the detectives.

"This is insane!" cried the other.

"What's illegal and insane is two officers accepting bribes to cover up a murder and present it as a suicide," Aubrey chastised. She couldn't help it.

"You have no proof!" the older of the two detectives said.

"Oh, we do," Beca then replied calmly. "We have all the info we need about your extra-curricular activities." Beca sighed and placed her hands in her pockets, before walking towards the two detectives. She placed a foot on top of one of the swivel chairs. "If you die here, we can pin it all on a exchange gone wrong. You're names forever besmirched by your corruption," she then said before kicking the chair lightly towards the open edge of the seventh floor.

As soon as the chair started moving, the detectives panicked and tried their best to stop their tracks. But when their chairs started shaking, almost toppling over in their efforts, they stopped and prayed they don't reach the edge. They did not.

"A seven-story drop would be fatal, I believe," Aubrey then commented and marched towards them and gave the chair a light kick, making them barely move a few inches closer.

"They were, in a way, accessory to the crime of murder, it wouldn't be hard to believe that whoever they helped would have done them in too," Chloe then said, moving towards the detectives and giving their chairs a hefty kick that sent them speeding to one side, stopping a few feet of the edge of the building.

"You're not really going to kill us, are you?" the younger of the two detectives asked, fear clearly evident in his tone. "P-please, I have a wife. He has a wife too, a-and kids, please, please, don't kill us."

Beca walked towards them and placed a foot on one of the hand rests. If she gave it her all in the next kick, Aubrey surmised that she would send them careening towards their doom.

But instead of giving a kick, Beca started applying pressure in the chair, rocking it back and forth. Before stopping. "How about I make you a deal?" Beca then asked. "You answer our questions, and you'll be free. Fair?"

"Y-yes," they both replied and gulped.

"Who hired you?" Beca asked. "We already know it's Babel and DSM, but I want to know who gave the order. Who's on top?"

"We don't know that, w-we just got a call from the Kommissar. She handles all the business. Before it would be Pietro who called us," the older detective replied.

"Y-yeah, and we only get instructions, we don't ask why," the younger detective then said.

"Who killed them then?" Chloe asked, with barely concealed contempt in her tone. "Were you the hired killers too? Or do you not know who you are covering up for?"

"Hangers, their called. A gang, real bad rap sheet," the older detective said. "We were instructed to clean up their mess and how, but we weren't asked to kill anyone."

Chloe huffed and marched towards where Beca stood, she raised one of her legs with force, about to kick the chair. Aubrey panicked a little, and was about to rush to stop her, but in the end she didn't.

Mostly because she didn't have too.

"Chloe," Beca said, her tone so soft. She gave her a look before shaking her head.

Chloe huffed again and put her foot down. "I wasn't going to go all in," she mumbled.

Beca chuckled. "Don't wear your heart on your sleeve," she then said. "Your enemies will exploit it, you know."

Chloe huffed once more before walking back to Aubrey. She seemed a whole lot calmer after that exchange.

"And piece of advice," Beca then added towards the detective. "You may think you're above it all, because you wear a badge as your shield. But that badge doesn't stop monsters like me from exacting justice on people like you. What goes around comes around, and you can never beat someone who's not afraid of death in this dangerous game you're playing."

Beca took her foot of the seat and turned around. She signaled for them to walk away, and so they did.

"Hey! Are you not gonna set us free? We delivered our end of the deal!" the older detective shouted.

Beca stopped on her tracks and raised two fingers, before bringing it down to one. "What deal? You had no other options. You were never in the position to make any bargains. Be thankful you keep your lives," she said before raising her second finger again. "I'm sure, you can free yourselves if you try really hard. We said we'll let you keep your lives, not free you. Understand the terms of your agreement before signing onto them."

Beca smirked and then turned to leave again. The younger of the two detectives cried out this time, "How about our money?" he asked but Beca made no attempt to stop.

Chloe shook her head. "We decided to donate it to a better cause," she said before following Beca.

Aubrey bid the two farewell, her mind onto the next phase of their mission. "Hopefully we don't meet again, detectives."

She caught up to Beca, thinking about the Hangers. She has indeed heard of the gang. If they were to use them to nail Babo down, that would mean they were up against really dangerous enemies. They had to prepare. Besides, from what Aubrey has heard of them, some members were also officers in the police department. She assumed she could rule out the other two who cracked so easily under their intimidation tactics.

This also meant they would have to further push the boundaries of what they were willing to do if they were going to make them crack.

Aubrey had a lot to prepare for.

"You could be a consigliere, you know?" Beca commented. Aubrey hadn't realized that the two of them ended up matching their pace, letting Chloe lead the way back to Beca's car.

"I assume that's a compliment?" Aubrey then asked.

"Make of it what you will," Beca replied with a smirk.

"Just make sure no one dies in the same room as the person who will be covering up for you," Aubrey retorted.

"At this point, death will be a mercy, an escape," Beca commented before she sighed. "The only time any of them will die is after they've suffered in agony, that much I can promise. But if I can help it, let's take away all they hold precious and bring them to justice."

Beca picked up her pace after that, leaving Aubrey alone with her thoughts. Beca's words echoing in her mind.

She wondered if it would ever be truly possible to do just what Beca promised without any one dying in the end?

[theatregaymer]

The Shadow’s newfound Light.

Another commission for the amazing @wertzunge​! I love that we have such similar tastes and experiences with anime lol. Kagami discovers Kuroko has some fond memories of time spent with his previous partner Aomine. He would much rather this shadow remembers who his new Light is.

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

Kagami Taiga has experienced a lot of wild happenings in the past year. Originally planning to just dominate as best he could in his years of high school basketball, who would have thought that going to Seirin High would be like riding a roller coaster in a hurricane? From the coach to his senpai and especially meeting Kuroko Tetsuya, he certainly had to adapt to a lot of new changes both to how he played the game and how he lived in general.

Today had of course been one such day, Kagami innocently out buying some groceries to take back to his apartment, when an all too familiar voice sounded from behind him, making him nearly drop to the floor. "Fancy meeting you here." The redhead almost leapt multiple feet into the air, spinning in place with a glare. "K-K-Kuroko you little...." What followed was their usual banter, the smaller of the two stating how he'd been following the other boy and even helped put a few things in his basket that were on his list. And so it was that Kagami felt like it would be rude to accept help doing his shopping from a friend and not invite him over for a meal. Kagami was no slouch in the kitchen of course, having had to feed himself for a while, so Kuroko had accepted, the two heading to Kagami's apartment with his purchased groceries. Once inside, Kagami turned on some random basketball footage he'd been watching earlier, telling Kuroko to just sit down and relax, though the other boy insisted on helping to move things along quicker. "I shouldn't be surprised I suppose, with your appetite you're bound to need a lot of food." He stated bluntly, earning just a bit of Kagami's ire. "Eh? Of course I eat this much, maybe if you ate more you'd actually bulk up a bit." The two bickered almost like a married couple, not like it was too different from how they were all the way up through the Winter Cup.

They'd gone far together after all, going up against the Generation of Miracles one by one, overcoming them together and emerging as the Winter Cup champions. Things had calmed down a bit since then, but they were by no means slouching on practice, this just happened to be one of the rare moments they got to relax. As the lid was placed over the top of the curry, it would be a little while before the two would actually get to enjoy it. So they decided to sit and watch the television for a while, so of course it led to more playful bickering between the two as they watched one of their own recorded games.

"You know you won't be able to jump as high if you eat so much you get fat." Kagami could swear he felt a vein bulging in his forehead already. "Ehh? You tryin to start a fight? Why do you feel like sticking your nose into my eating habits anyways? Last I checked I invited you to my place to eat, not complain about my weight." At those words, the softest yet most obvious chuckle was heard in a brief moment of low volume on the tv, making the power forward look over to his fellow teammate with a small yet surprisingly interested raised brow. "Hoh? You think that's funny? Watch it chuckles." A strong pair of fingers reached over, jabbing the smaller male in the ribs. However, this produced an unexpected result rather than pain, that being a surprisingly higher pitched yelp from the other boy, his hand clutching that vulnerable area.

"Eh? What was that?" Kagami asked, now fully ignoring the game and looking at his house guest as Kuroko made the same face he always did when trying to hide something, looking off to the side. "It was nothing, just unexpected." Kuroko continuted to look away while speaking, prompting his light to catch on rather quickly of course, acting in a rather unorthodox fashion as the larger of the two shifted his balance, reaching over to grab at his friend's side through his thin t-shirt. "Gyaha!" There it was, the answer to his question. "Pffthaha you're ticklish? Haha you could have just said that dummy. Hey you know I don't think I've ever heard your laugh." Kuroko went paler than usual, still covering his other side now as he looked at his friend, who was now appearing much more intimidating than usual. "I-It's nothing special...let's just focus on the gaHAHAHme MMMHPHheha AH Kahahagami nohoh!"

Both hands, larger than Kuroko's own, were now squeezing quickly up and down both of the shadow's sides, faster than he could protect himself as the poor boy wriggled one way or the other before falling to the side. "Oh Kagami yes...pft wow who thought you could get so loud." The redhead's words rang out as true as Kuroko's laughter, the poor boy trying to scoot away using his legs as Kagami didn't seem at all interested in stopping. "WAHaha wah wahahithah hehehhehaha! Ah ahahhaha ah haahah ah ah huh...?" Everything had stopped after only a few minutes, the blue haired player looking around before wiping a tear from his eye and seeing Kagami had moved to the kitchen area to stir the curry. "Oh...I didn't think you would stop so soon, is it ready?" Kagami scoffed, "Please, I can focus on cooking and tickle you at the same time." At those words, the smaller boy paused at the edge of the kitchen, having been halway to the other before pausing. "I-I'd rather you didn't." This denial was another sign to Kagami, the guy snickering as he stirred the fragrant pot of food. "Yeah, funny, you didn't seem to try too hard to get away. And you wondered where I went like you were hoping for more." Now it was another rare moment between the two, Kagami looking over expecting to get something of a rise out of his friend, only to see a fierce blush over his face. "Eh? You can blush too?" Kuroko grumbled, looking at his friend as he huffed. "Anyone can blush Kagami. It just...reminded me of the old days?" It was silent for a moment before Kagami quickly turned off the stove to avoid burning anything as he shifted the pot off the heat, moving over to his rice cooker and getting some plates out for them as well. Of course Kuroko could tell he likely wanted more information, after all the two of them didn't exactly rise to the top on the court by hiding away their pasts. "It was Aomine. Back in middle school well, a lot of times he would want me to be more assertive and would um...t-tickle me in order to make me talk louder." Kagami spooned a hefty amount of curry onto his own plate after ladeling it onto Kuroko's plate as well, the smaller of the two thanking him with a nod before walking back to the table to seat himself. "O...kaay. And me tickling you made you think of back then?" Taiga took his own seat along with his far more substantial amount of curry and rice both of them saying a quick and easy thank you for the food before the redhead began digging in. "Well it was when things were a bit better back then, before any of them began to change. I think they're better now though...thanks to you." Another jab this time made him jump much more noticably, making a squeak of all things. "Gah! K-Kagami!" A chuckle followed, the taller of the two smirking and swallowing his mouthful. "You too dummy, we're a team." This simple yet indisputable phrase made the smaller boy smile earnestly before starting in on his own platter. The food was pretty good, as signaled by both boys not speaking in favor of continuing to eat. Kuroko actually had the perfect amount, giving Kagami some silent props as he was satisfied but not overly full. Of course Kagami went back for some seconds before patting his stomach. "Oh yeah that hit the spot!" He said with a content sigh of comfort, Kuroko offering to wash the dishes as he got up and helped himself to his host's sink. It wasn't something Kagami bothered arguing with him about, both of them needing their energy right now to process that amazing meal. Of course there was something else on the redhead's mind now, an itch he felt like he needed to scratch that involved his personal shadow. He waited of course, for a few minutes, wanting to make sure that his friend wouldn't get sick after he got started. He partially just blamed himself of course, getting jealous over something stupid in the past that had no bearing on the now...but he just couldn't help himself as the other finished the dishes and came back to sit down nearby enough he didn't have to worry about a chase. "So you still think about those times being a duo with Aomine huh?" Taiga mentioned offhandedly, Kuroko glancing his way as the next game had already started playing. "Hmm? Well yes of course, it's a memory I cherish." He said before tilting his head much like number two would. "Well there's nothing to it then. C'mere..." The stronger of the two approached, looming over his friend and seeing confusion, realization and fear work onto Kuroko's face in mere seconds. "Wah wait what are youhuhu noho Kagami dohoho'nthHEHEHA AHAHAH NOHO STHAAHHAP!" Strong hands flew over the other's stomach, sides and ribs, wanting to tickle him like crazy. "We're partners now right? I gotta make sure you think of me first for team bonding stuff!" It finally got through to the smaller man just what he'd ended up getting into, since more than any other member of the Miracles, Aomine and Kagami had the greatest rivalry as current and former teammates of the phantom sixth man. "WAHahaithaha AHAHA Naa no no nah naha thihis isn't fahahairhaha leehet go Kahagami!" From playful banter to brutal tickling, Kuroko too had to think of this past year as something he never could have expected since meeting this brutish redhead. Taiga was easily physically superior to the smaller boy, Kuroko's struggles and shoves amounting to nothing compared to Kagami simply pushing him back to the floor to continue breaking him down to his base elements. "BWAHAHaAHAH!" The power forward cackled at his friend, knowing full well he would likely wear himself out and need to recover his strength here before heading home. "Aww come on this is nothing Kuroko. Are you just that ticklish huh? Haha gotta be more spots than this right? Ah ah hey where are you goin!?" Kuroko screeched as those strong hands went into his pits, practically using all his remaining strength to wriggle like a fish, quickly trying to bolt to his feet before his ankle was snatched up in one strong hand. "GAHaha naha nohoho dohon'thehahaha!" His pleas were for naught of course, his body falling to the floor as he was playfully dragged back over and brought into an embarrassing position for certain. Kagami standing up and holding both ankles in his arm to keep his friend mostly suspended. His superior strength doing it's work, it allowed Kagami to use his large free hand to spider over both of Kuroko's feet, seeing as they were much smaller than his own. Meanwhile the poor shadow continued to try crawling away, hands desperately clamoring on the woodn surface of Kagami's floor. "BWHAHAaaA AH AHAHA AH NAH Kagahami KAHaHA KAGAMIHIHEEHEHEHEHEHEE!" Kuroko was well and truly screwed right now, having noone and nothing around to deflect attention from himself and slip away. Kagami's hold stayed true for now, his arms and hands both sufficiently strong, digging into his socked arches and toes with abandon. "Haha wow wow come on, you tellin me you could be this loud all along? Some phantom shadow you are, I bet an entire arena could hear you like this!" Kagami cackled at his friend, giving the smaller boy the briefest of breaks as he tugged off those pesky socks of his. Surprisingly he didn't stink at all, instead just having a soft and soapy smelling pair of size nine soles now revealed, much to their owner's horror. "Nah noho pleaseheheh hah I cahahn't take ihIHIHITHEHAHAHA!" The young man flopped around in the other's grip like a fish fresh from the ocean, desperate for escape from it's captor. Of course Kagami wasn't interested in letting go just yet, his fingers darting all over both feet to keep the other laughing. It wasn;t until after he had thoroughly explored his heels, arches, insteps, balls and even dug under and between his toes did he finally let go. Of course Kuroko was already spent, his body crumpling to the floor with a giggly groan. "Eh heheh well when you uh...peel yourself off the floor, I can at least get you a ride to your place huh?" Kagami said, moving to the kitchen to wash his hands as he left the other there to catch his breath. Poor Kuroko of course was more exhausted than ever before, panting heavily and sweating as he slowly crawled up into a sitting position. "Gah..hah...Kah...Kagami...you were right about something..." This caught the other's attention, peeking his head out to look over. "Hm?" Kuroko smiled in a way that might have held some hidden meaning as he spoke. "I definitely am gonna remember this." He said, Kagami just chuckling as he figured his original goal had now been met. Of course with a new memory of tickling at the hand of a partner, also came new ideas of revenge for a master of stealth like Kuroko Tetsuya.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Interlude Chapter 16

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Master Post

Voidborne flew through the air, going straight to Blood-Wraith’s hand. He exhaled and summoned the crystalline blade. Wanting to see what her opponent could do, Dunja started out by only activating one of her whip blades. Facing off with someone who had a major role in defeating The Lich of Old made her cautious. She needed to scope out what he could do and not rush into a particular strategy right out of the gate. Dunja expected the boy to attack first, but he did not. Five steps of circling each other prompted her to attack first, slamming her whip on the ground.

The dust cleared quickly, revealing nothing. Dunja then glanced upwards only to see Blood-Wraith right above her, ready to bring Voidborne down upon her. It was impressive how quick and nimble he was. The queen responded by whipping out her unactivated blade, using it to parry the attack. This knocked him away and caused Blood-Wraith to fall to the ground. He then quickly transformed into Indigo Wolf, which created a shockwave that knocked Dunja back. It was unorthodox yet smart. The maneuver afforded him some breathing room so he could regroup.

After a series of failed strikes, Blood-Wraith quickly realized that Dunja could easily counter him with her whip blades. The thing was that they only had so much range though. Thinking of which form would be ideal to give him some space, he decided Azure Spider was the way to go. It could get up into the air with ease if he needed to quickly escape. Golden Dragon could also get into the air, but the form was large and cumbersome. Dunja could easily beat on it and prevent him from getting into the air. What he needed was speed and agility, not strength and endurance. Plus Azure Spider was less of a strain on his body.

Dunja was met by a barrage of fireballs from an opponent that was hard to keep up with. The minute she approached, Blood-Wraith would just leap to the other side of the arena. Dunja noticed that Blood-Wraith was using the fact that the audience was protected by a magic barrier to his advantage. He could freely fire off attacks, keeping the queen on her toes. She assumed he would eventually corner her, but something different happened. A lasso of silk tightened around her waist, binding her arms to it. A very sneaky and well done move.

Blood-Wraith flung Dunja up into the air and shot several, massive fireballs at her. Naturally she was not going to take this lying down. “AHK, AR, VEY!” She shouted from her throat as the web broke and a protective barrier formed around her. The audience was on the edge of their seats.

Over at the royal court box, Dragoslava and Desislav were amazed by what they just saw. “What was that!?” Dragoslava demanded to know.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen magic like that,” Desislav remarked.

“Void magic, children,” Englehart answered.

Radovan elaborated. “Dunja is naturally proficient in it. Akin to necromancy, it is a rare type of magic that calls upon the Cosmos itself to enact the caster’s will. Not many void callers are known to exist, however.”

Aureolus was also amazed. “Awesome… but why does she speak her magic? I don’t have to do that…”

Dragoslava and Desislav looked at Aureolus, but Barna spoke up. “Well if I remember correctly, she was working on that before Milosh happened…”

“Indeed, brother,” Englehart replied.

Back at the fight, Blood-Wraith was having trouble countering the void spells. “Dunja, is that void magic?”

She smiled. “Right you are, kid. First time?”

“Kind of. Aureolus can do similar, but it never crossed my mind to spar with him over it…”

Dunja swung her whip at him, forcing him to dodge. “Well then maybe I should train you a bit after this is all said and done.”

After a few more evasions, it was Blood-Wraith’s turn to smile. “What was that you said about cards, coffins, and fate yesterday?”

She threw her hands up. “Alright, fine, I was a bit doom and gloom last night…”

This distraction gave Blood-Wraith an idea. Still in the form of Azure Spider, he leapt high into the air. Next he switched over to Ochre Serpent and began spitting water blasts. He wanted to try this to mix up his strategy, but there were no bodies of water around, forcing him to get creative. Dunja liked everything about it. The planning, the sneakiness, the ridiculousness of it all… No wonder The Lich lost to him. Using one of her void spells, she flew into the air herself. Water blasts were destroyed effortlessly with both whip blades. The audience could only guess what was going to happen next as Dunja rapidly approached her target.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Dunja had one of whips coiled firmly around the serpent. She summoned a great deal of strength and flung him down to the ground with a massive crash. The audience gasped in shock while Blood-Wraith’s entire family nearly had a heart attack. Dunja landed on the ground near the dust cloud, waiting for a sign of activity. A green and black hand grasped the edge of the small crater, hefting itself out into the open. It was Verdant Might.

“Oh no, I’m not done yet… argh, that hurt” he said with a chuckle.

Curious to see more of his hand to hand skill with Voidborne, Dunja deactivated both of her whip blades and used them as normal swords. Verdant Might’s namesake was no joke; Dunja was on the ropes as she did her best to respond to each attack. The long reaching swipes, stabs, and swings from the angelic sword staff were definitely a massive challenge to handle. Blood-Wraith focusing on hitting on her made things even trickier. Now it was her turn to gamble: Dunja took her left blade and hit Voidborne at the right angle, knocking it out of Blood-Wraith’s hands. Seeing this made Valentina silently panic.

Blood-Wraith also panicked, giving in to his instincts. This involved him ramming right into Dunja. He knocked her blades out of her hands and caused her to fall on her back. She rolled out of the way before he could elbow drop her. Seeing an opening, Dunja took him and suplexed him. That stunned him for a moment, but Blood-Wraith recovered and tried to sweep her legs. The queen jumped, but the battered combatant got up and caught her, slamming her into the ground.

No one had expected this turn of events. What had started out as an honest duel devolved into a wrestling match. The two were slamming into and throwing each other around with reckless abandon. The Audience was eating it up, but everyone in the royal court box was nearly having a collective aneurysm. They shouted at the two to stop, or to go easy on each other at the very least. They were not mad, just gravely concerned over what the two were going to do to each other. Englehart was sweating bullets over all of this and Barna could see it as plain as day… he shared the feeling. 

The duke was getting quite excited. “RIGHT, LEFT, UPPERCUT… GOOD, NOW DISCOMBOBULATE HER… SHOOT, WATCH OUT FOR THE HAYMAKER! RIGHT, RIGHT… I SAID RIGHT…!” Radovan should have been also telling the two to stop, but instead he was shouting instructions at Blood-Wraith. This caused Rose to give him some of the most gravely bewildered looks ever.

The Audience roared in excitement as the two clashed. Their brawn and attrition was being pushed to its limits. Eventually they both came to a stand still as they locked arms and pushed up against each other. “Jeez, what is it with boys and wrestling?” Dunja sassed as she struggled.

“GRR, I’M NOT GIVING UP!” Blood-Wraith growled. Fire was surging through his veins.

“Welp, sorry for what I’m about to do, Blood, but… AHK!” A shockwave knocked him prone, allowing Dunja to grab him by the legs. She swung him around multiple times before letting go, sending him rocketing into the wall. The crash rendered everyone speechless. Dunja looked utterly horrified, however. “Uh-oh… I may have put too much into that… BLOOD! ARE YOU OKAY?”

Before she could go over to him, Englehart leapt down to the arena and went to check on Blood-Wraith. He laid there on his back, returned to his original form of fire and metal. “Blood, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Uh… er 5… 4, 5, 3… 4, 2… 1… 6?”

“No, boy. That was just an illusion…”

“I was about to say… since when do you have six fingers?”

Englehart laughed and turned to the Audience. “Don’t worry, everyone, he’s alright!” With that, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Several medic mages rushed over and promptly got Blood-Wraith onto a stretcher.

“Are… are you sure he’s going to be alright?” Dunja stuttered as she had trouble maintaining her footing.

Englehart nodded. “He’ll be fine. The lad is hardy in both mind and body. Besides, I’ve heard this isn’t his first rodeo in regards to hand to hand combat… I trust our match won’t be as rough?”

Dunja shook her head. “No no, absolutely not. That was completely unexpected.”

“Excellent. I’d prefer not to strike a lady, especially my own wife. Regardless, you both fought well. Go rest up and get ready for our duel.”

“Sure thing… ooh, ow ow…ow…”

As the other medic mages assisted Dunja, Englehart turned back to the audience. “Did we expect anything less from our former queen and one of the heroes of The Iron City?”

While Englehart remarked on the fight, Blood-Wraith had visitors in the medical wing. “Jeez, who taught her how to fight like that?”

“That would be me, son,” Radovan answered. “I uh… have a past of getting into brawls when I was a youth.”

Rose shot him a look. “A past best not to pass on to our newest family member, dear” She chided, then calmed herself. “Although I must say that it’s interesting that he fights with the same grit you had despite his origin. Now Blood, what got into your head that caused you to fight hand to hand like that?”

“I’m not sure…er, uh… um…” He was still a little dazed from the fight.

“I presume that earlier had something to do with that?” Radovan put forth. “That drive to prove yourself?”

Blood-Wraith nodded. “Uh, yeah. That.”

Dragoslava leaned on the bed frame. “Well at least this time it ain’t for the sake of the cosmos…”

Desislav nodded. “Agreed. If that was the Lich, we would have been screwed.”

Aureolus could not hold back his excitement anymore. “Blood? THAT WAS SO FREAKING COOL” he energetically complimented. 

Blood-Wraith smiled. “Thanks… definitely hurt though…”

“I noticed you were having trouble when Dunja started using her void magic” Aureolus commented. “Do you want me to teach you Void magic? Or at least what I know at the moment?”

“Thanks, Aureolus. Sure.”

“And speaking of that stuff, Desislav! Can I have your soul fragment?”

“Wait, right now?”

Aureolus nodded. “Yup, right now. I’ve made up my mind: I want to be as awesome as Blood and I think you’re my last fragment.”

Desislav turned to the others, who were nodding in approval. He shrugged. “Um, alright then…” He produced an Indigo flame in his hand that flew right into Aureolus.

The transformation went off without a hitch… except, not much happened. Two wings like the void of space gently sprouted from his back and what appeared to be seven crystal shards began calmly orbiting him. “Aureolus was confused. “That’s it?”

“Was it supposed to be more grandiose? How do you feel?” Radovan inquired.

“I feel… different. It’s like I’m actually something now… oh hey, look at my body!” It was more solid and visible now.

“Maybe it’s because you were nothing beforehand…” Blood-Wraith slowly got off the bed. “...So the transformation wouldn’t be as flashy as mine was…”

Aureolus nodded again. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense…”

Rose got up to support Blood-Wraith in case he fell over. “Whoa, easy, sweetie. Are you sure you’re ready to get up?”

“Yes… ow. Let’s head up to see the next match.”

The group was greeted by Barna, Corentin, Kresimira, Vexation, and Valentina back at the royal court box. The royal council was sitting further up in the back. Everyone was relieved to see that Blood-Wraith was alright… then Kresimira got up to scold him. “BLOOD-WRAITH ANDREW RAYNOT. What was that!? That was… it was… How uncouth of you!”

“Wait, my middle name is Andrew?” This caused the rest of the group to chuckle and giggle.

“Er, yes!” Kresimira replied. “Honestly I thought I taught you better than that…” She chided as she crossed her arms. “...but I must say that that was some impressive ingenuity on your part. So… maybe I did teach you some of that as that quick thinking is to be expected of an alchemist. Well done, Blood… never do that again.”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best” he stated as he sat down.

Corentin chuckled. “Now see, If I had been fighting Dunja…”

“... if you had been fighting Dunja, I’d have to spend the next week fixing you up” Barna jumped in. The whole box laughed while Corentin groaned.

Kresimira gently nudged her future husband. “As much as I worry, let’s leave the fighting to the others, dear.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

“Everyone! It’s starting” Vexation pointed out. “I’m curious to see what the king brings to the table.”

Barna smiled. “If I know my brother, he’s going to turn this into straight up art, rather than a typical bout. A battle of magic rather than might that’s going to be something to remember.”

“Agreed,” Radovan replied. “Many people don’t realize it, but Englehart has spent years perfecting his alchemy for this day. We’ll see how Dunja handles this.”

Next: Chapter 17

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[mishkakagehishka]

ohhh little gorey prompts you say?

you know how some serial killers have calling cards? mika as a serial killer but his calling card is to take the heart of his victims ♡

Serial killer Mika!! My beloved fr. I love that idea, but also I had to look up anatomy pics for this and ?? Why did I think a liver was like. Much lower and much smaller lmao

Word count: 1517 Summary: Mika has a bit of an unorthodox hobby - he's really found himself in the art of murder. And he always makes sure to take a souvenir with him after each kill <3 Warnings: gore, mucking about inner organs, death Note: I have no idea what I did to his motivation tbh. You know that part of Human Comedy where he goes off on why humans suck? I just remembered that and went "aye, let's go"

A starless night, dark and cold. Mika clutched his bag closer to himself, seeking the warmth he couldn’t get from his light blazer. He forgot to dress up warmly today, not expecting the sudden drop in the temperature. Already dozing off, he barely kept himself on his feet in the train, leaning onto the pole with all his weight. There was still a few more stops until he could get off, he wouldn’t be harmed by closing his eyes, just resting them for a minute. The train was empty, anyway. Just him and one older man who was fast asleep on one of the seats. But as he let his guard down, Arashi’s warning from earlier that day echoed in his mind. “Be careful on your way home, today, Mika-chan!” she’d said. He knows why she told him that, and why there was no need for him to be careful, but he’d feel bad ignoring her advice.

There was a bit of a problem in the city. The news only ever talked about it, everyone seemed to be in a panic, people were spreading truth mixed with lies. Even a mythology of it was born. There was a serial killer on the loose, to keep it short. Nobody knew who they were targeting, why, who they even were and if they worked alone or not. The only thing that was known was that people have been turning up dead. And the theory of a serial killer was brought up when, after a few autopsies, a chilling pattern was noticed. All of them were missing their heart. Or, rather, although they were found dressed, stripping the bodies revealed a sloppily stitched up chest. And taking out the thread - an empty spot where the heart was supposed to be. The killer’s sign, their calling card. It couldn’t have been anything other than a sick person, to be able to not only murder someone violently (all the victims showed signs of struggle, strangulation marks, shallow cuts, and bruises. The cause of death was almost always blunt force), but to then cut them open, steal the heart and sew them back up, putting their clothes on and leaving them on the street. It was a wonder how the killer was never caught, considering the bodies were always out in the open. And what on Earth were they doing with the hearts, anyway?

Well, that’s why Arashi wanted Mika to be safe. He was so thankful to have friends who worry and fuss over him, but she was worried for nothing, really. He couldn’t tell her that, but he knows nothing will happen to him. And he sees how fearful she is whenever she has to return home alone, too. He notices how scared she gets whenever the topic is brought up. Mika wishes he could tell her not to worry, nothing will happen to her. But he can’t. As much as he trusts her, he just can’t tell her why he’s so certain no harm will befall the two of them.

“Hah~,” Mika breathed out. Sat on his knees on the hardwood floor, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm, careful not to touch his face when his hands were so filthy. They always struggled. And he was never able to land a clean cut because of that - not only could he not see in the dark, but then they keep fighting him off… As if it would save them. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he fished the little pincushion from his pocket, laying the vibrant red thread and needle on the floor between him and the body. Another person who struggled, another person who will be found with a bruised neck and broken bones. He’s thankful he had the dresser to bang their head against - he was already so tired, he felt like he might have been overpowered this time. That would have been a tragedy.

It didn’t take much effort to strip the shirt off a corpse, and it took even less effort to drive his knife into their chest - right above the sternum and between their clavicles. It took a bit more effort to wedge the knife down, to tear through their skin and flesh, down to their stomach, however. The stench of blood mixed with the horrid stink of death, permeating the air. But all it did was make Mika breathe in deeper. He’d always liked the scent. He wiggled the knife a bit, trying to pull it free from the body. It gets stuck sometimes, that’s just how it is, so he had to be forceful. With an “oomph”, he finally freed the knife, setting it down beside him. He had no qualms digging in, either, shoving his gloved hands into the gaping wound, spreading it further open so he can reach in more freely. Though it was always difficult to reach the heart without taking anything else or breaking the ribs, Mika thought he was getting better. Wiggling his hand below the ribs, past the stomach and the liver, until he could grip the heart. His other hand was leaned on the corpse’s shoulder, to keep himself from falling as he leaned over them, blindly digging around their organs. When he felt the heart unbeating in his hand, he made sure to squeeze it just enough to hold it safely in his hand, not enough to break it, as he tugged. It took one, two, three strong pulls to separate it from the rest of the body, a disgusting sort of squelching sound resulting from his efforts.

And when he held it in his hand, this proof of life, this proof of his taking of a life, he felt an immense exhilaration in his own heart. He felt powerful, in control. This was all it was to him. All those people acting smart, trying to guess his motives - there were no motives. He just did it because he wanted to, because he could. Because it made him feel good to exert his power over others in this way. All of those people asking why he was doing it, if he was antisocial or if he had a personal vendetta against these people. He didn’t. He just hated humans, so much. Mika knows all of the people he’s killed have done horrible things, because they’re humans and that’s what humans do. So, is he really in the wrong? There is no such thing as innocence in this world, so why does it matter if he takes a few lives? When others are making lives worse, his acts of killing may as well be a mercy.

The sewing, however, was still crude. He cuts too deep, and so his mere thread can never sew them up as well as he would like to. Mika threaded the needle, trying his best to make it look tidy this time. He was improving, he thought. It might take a few more tries to perfect, but there was definitely an improvement compared to his first times. He managed to actually close up the hole this time, tying it off neatly and biting the leftover thread off, giving it a clean finish. At least, in his opinion. He always got angry when watching all those hotshots on TV calling his sewing “sloppy” – he’d love to see what they’d manage with nothing but a needle and a thread. The body was clothed once more, and he waited by the entrance to this now resident-less home, peering from behind the curtain for his chance. Although it was already nearing two in the morning, stray cars passed by, some folks returning from an outing here and there. He had to make sure nobody sees him, after all, or else his fun would be cut short.

And when he finally did leave the body in the street, he returned back to the train station, waiting for the late train, as if nothing had happened. The “souvenir” he took wrapped in his blazer, which was stuffed in his bag alongside his ruined gloves. To be safe, he remembered to wash his face and forearms in the bathroom at the station. His shoes were still bloodied, but he can pass it off as mud if anyone questions him, or even just say he got a nosebleed he didn’t notice. Mika’s hand gripped the bag closer to him, unconsciously patting at the section where his blazer was placed. And all those folks wondering why he took the hearts and only the hearts… What did it matter? It was for him. For his collection, to be placed in a jar and kept. To inspire his art.

And once more, the news will talk about a brutal murder. Once more, he’ll have to comfort Arashi. Once more, he’ll laugh and assure her nothing will happen to him on his way home. Once more, he’ll pretend like he’s oblivious and stupid, making sure that everyone sees him as nothing but a harmless young man, as the least suspicious person in this city.

[galactic-senator-amidala]

hello! mun speaking :D

"i am not afraid to use unorthodox means to prove my point"

before we get started, there’s some things that are going to be pointed out here (plz read they are very important):

if you’d like to ask padme or the mun anything, use my ask box! it is open for those specific reasons! just make sure to clarify if you are asking padme or mun

if youd like to rp but dont know if ill say yes, just dm me! they are open for those reasons lol

im pretty much cool with everything as long as it doesnt involve any nsfw stuff (gore & stuff is fine, im referring to smut)

my time schedule is wack so there will be days where i am radio silent. please dont think i am ignoring you, im probs just so busy i dropped dead (id recommend priv msging me to be safe)

my main blog is @flowered-bicycles so if youd like to see how i am like out of rp, go there lol

mun goes by soka but will usually be referred to as “amidala’s (or padme’s) mun. mun also uses she/her

as hard as i will try to be like padme’s canon self, i might end up throwing a bit of myself in the rp as well. if something seems ooc, please let me know but dont be harsh about it

parentheses or // are used when mun is speaking

roleplay is either used in 3rd person or 1st person. if you have a preference you’d like me to use, dont be shy and let me know

extra and disclaimer! - this is strictly an rp blog (yes i may act and speak and react like padme, but i am no way actually her. i am in no way affiliated with star wars! (unless you count being a fan as affiliated) so this is completely fanmade! feel free (much encouraged) to like, reblog, or send/asks and make comments! the ask box has anon on as well, so if you are too shy to use your user, anon is on just for you! if you wish, giving an emoji for me to recognize you by would be greatly appreciated! you can leave comments and ill try to reply to them. i dont think my submissions are open, but if youd like to submit something then ill open them!

BLOG RULES

you may use “potty mouth” when rping in character, but please keep it pretty strictly to star wars cursing (kriff, kark, etc)

padme is straight and will be canonically shipped with anakin (cuz they are married, duhh) but if you wish to do a “non-canonical”/au where padme is shipped with your character (or is not straight), please dm me and we will work it out

keep this a SFW blog! (which means no smut!! violence / gore are accepted tho so be warned)

keep the asks respectful please

uncomfortable topics will be blatantly ignored

dont godmod.

have fun!

about padme

galactic senator

canonically married to anakin skywalker

unofficially became ahsoka’s aunt

isn't afraid to use aggressive negotiations

will sweet talk you to get what she wants

friends & foes

canon

anakin skywalker - open slot

ahsoka tano - open slot

satine kryze - @arandomnerdsrp358

obi-wan kenobi - open slot

oc

(name of character) - user

PROMPT LIST! (and quotes)

here is a list of prompts that will help structure an rp (if you want to make a structured rp) or help get the rp flowing/started:

extra!: prompts and quotes can be requested together! for ex. : “can i request prompt a. with quote 6?” (or vice versa)

quotes:

1. “why did you do it? tell me”

2. “you know im always here for you, right?”

3. “let me take care of you”

4. “i thought id never see you again…”

5. “we need to get you to a hospital!”

6. “blood? why are you bleeding!?”

7. “sleep at my place tonight”

8. “you know you are my one and only”

9. “im in love with you, idiot (or di’kut)

10. “sh, stop fussing. let me braid your hair”

11. “if you steal the blankets, im going to put my cold feet on you.”

prompts:

a. it’s a mission and we got separated from the group. we are on an unknown planet and dont have any signal to comm the rest of the group. we have to try to make our way back to the ship with only each other and the things we have with us.

b. no one knows when it started, but suddenly people have started receiving red ribbons tied to their pinky and the red trails off to their soulmate. not everyone has a soulmate but we are some of the lucky few who have one. follow the roleplay as we go on a journey to follow the trail and meet eachother, and then live life together as soulmates.

c. a diplomatic mission gone wrong when a terrible virus breaks out in the planet. with the ship pulled to pieces and we are stranded on the planet, how will we survive and rebuild the ship to get off world and warn the other planets?

d. it’s a diplomatic mission to bring a planet to the side of the republic, but something goes wrong. dooku has brought his army to stop the planet from joining the republic and we get caught in the crossfire! negotiations are made and dooku has proposed a challenge for us to complete. if successfully completed, the planet may host a republic base. if lost, the planet goes to the separatists.

!! accepting additional quotes / prompts !!

[ctntduoarchive]

For the writing prompt .... i'll honestly take anything election arc tntduo related LMAO

ask game

YESS!!!!! this era makes me run around in a circle...... here's the start to a swog au i've been thinking of ^-^

The elections were going fine. Well, as fine as they could be.

George had not shown up a single time, Schlatt decided to fuck it and run his own presidency, Dream has also taken Schlatt's side and now Wilbur and Tommy are trying to get the poll to work in some dingy cave.

Safe to say, he might hate his life.

"C'mon, Google I trusted you, why'd you have to let me down?" he said, in the hopes it could somehow here him and start magically work.

"Why- the election was going so fine! It just- I trusted Schlatt, I thought he was on our side, Wilbur!"

Wilbur stopped focusing on getting the poll to work. He trusted Schlatt too.

"Me too." He bit his tongue, there was more that wanted to fall out of his mouth. "I- just, forget him, Tommy. We're on our own now."

"I- what are we gonna do?"

"I- I don't know if Pog or Swag's going to- Quackity." For a man who said he couldn't see him being president, Quackity seems to be the best last resort. "Big Q-"

"He's not here-"

"Get him here, get him here."

"Oh, he just joined," Tommy said. "Hey, Big Q."

"Hey, fellas." Never more than now had he been happy to hear his voice.

"Big Q, Big Q, I've got a proposition for you," he immediately started. "This is- this is a proposition from President Wilbur Soot."

"I- Okay."

"This is going to be unorthodox, but, Quackity, in the event that either one of us doesn't win this election, either Quackity or Wilbur Soot doesn't win this election, Big Q-"

"Wilbur, what are you going to do-" Tommy asked, ignored.

"Should we- pool the Pog and Swag and just run as our own party? Just so we don't get any of these people. Because, like I said at the beginning, when I was at the campaign thing, I said, when you were peeing, Tommy, I said 'the one thing I appreciate about Big Q, right, is that no matter what he says, he cares about L'manburg, right? He really cares about L'manburg, even if his policies are direct opposites of mine, he at least cares about L'manburg. These people just want power, they just want attention, right? So how about-

"Schlatt's senile!" Quackity piped up.

"In the case Schlatt or Coconut gets more votes than Pog or Swag, we make- we make the Pswags, Pswago. Pswago. And then-"

"Pwag!"

"And then we run as in-"

"What, we make Pwag?" Tommy questioned. "Pwag2020?"

"Pwag2020!"

"And then we run as a- or, Swog! Swog!"

They all started repeating Swog, it rolled off the tongue a lot better than Pswag or Pwag.

"And then we- and then here's what we do, we run as co-presidents, as me and Quackity will be the presidents, and George and Tommy will be vice presidents."

"Wait- wait a minute, what if we just cut George out of this? He's been a no-show, I- yeah."

"Okay, so fine. So President Quackity and President Wilbur, and Vice President TommyInnit."

"Swog!" Quackity cheered. "Swog, baby!"

"But that's only if we are beaten by Coconut and- and whoever," he clarified.

"Wait, wait a fucking minute," Quackity spoke up. "Wait, so this is conditional? So wait, if you win, I'm just out of everything?"

"If Pog wins, you're out, you've lost."

"Basically, you now have a double chance of winning," Tommy added.

"So, if you're telling me, that if you guys get all the votes, I'm just gonna be left out of the party?"

"Yes, and if you get all the votes, we'll be left out of the party."

"I- No- you know I'm not gonna get any votes, Wilbur. Fucking George is out here being too sexy to join the call or something. This can't be- listen, Wilbur, listen to me, Wilbur, this can't be conditional. You gotta keep me in, or I'm going to have to endorse another party."

Great, just what Wilbur fucking needed right now.

"Can we have a moment to think?" Tommy requested.

"Yeah, have a moment to think. Have a moment, have a moment. Message me when you come to a decision, Wilbur. It's all in or no in."

"Wait, Big Q, you're not gonna join Schlatt, are you? Schlatt, Dream and Big Q versus me and Wilbur."

"It just seems to conditional, it seems you guys are acting this as a really conditional thing."

"So you're giving us a condition?" Wilbur snapped. "That's what you're saying right now."

"You're using me! You're literally admitting to using me!"

"No, no! I'm- what I'm saying is you don't like our condition," he spoke.

"I need a moment to think about this," Quackity said, before quickly leaving the VC.

"Oh God, he's gone." Life really knew how to go to absolute horse shit in L'manburg. "Hold on, let me check my form, let me if any votes came in, let me see if any votes have come in."

Checking the polls, he waited for Quackity to come back.

After seeing the starting results, Quackity said upon entering the VC, "fellas, I need to have a meeting with you immediately. Immediately."

"Okay, we'll meet now," Tommy said.

"Do you want us to- do you want us to come to L'manburg?"

"Meet in the Casa de Putas, Casa de Putas."

"Okay, I'm coming to the Casa de Putas."

Wilbur doesn't think he had respawned as quickly as he did ever before.

"Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming. Oh God, Schlatt's just fucking napping, bro. Look at him," he complained. "Oh God, it's hectic here. There's just people running around with guns and shit, Schlatt's just sleeping."

"Wilbur- the policies, L'manburg's just falling apart!" Tommy cried. Guns and war, the things he had fought against in hopes of keeping his nation safe. He almost wished he was just as susceptible to believing peace is still an option as Quackity was.

"Alright, fellas, come inside, come inside," Quackity ushered them in. "Fellas, TommyInnit and Wilbur Soot, listen to me, listen to me. I was enticed by your Swog idea, until you immediately, immediately admitted to me that you would only use me for votes. If you didn't get enough votes, you would only use me for votes."

"At least we were honest, eh? Eh, fellas?"

"Yeah, honesty, that's our policy. That's the biggest part of the Pog party."

"Go on, Big Q," Tommy said.

"Listen, I don't- my own vice president has abandoned me, you guys have clearly been trying to use me this entire time, so it's Schlatt2020 bitch, Schlatt2020!"

"So you're joining- are you dissolving Swag?"

Wilbur could only sit and watch the fire burn in front of him. Do something, c'mon, you're the president, he tried to urge himself. It was now or never.

"Wait," he stopped him, putting up his hand. Both Tommy and Quackity turned to him wholly. He doesn't look up at either of them, he doesn't want to look them in the eye. "If I agreed to run with your party, no conditions, would you join us as Swog or Pwag or whatever?"

He finally looked up at Quackity. Wilbur once called him too believing for this world, but right now he fitted right in as a politician. He always did have the shark-like grin for it.

"Would I? I don't know, Wilbur, it's a little late?"

Is his pride really worth not to get down on his knees and beg right now?

"Please," he said, head hanging low. Quackity had eyes like the depths of the sea and he was drowning in them. "I- Schlatt doesn't fucking care about L'manburg, and you do. Please, don't make the wrong choice."

Quackity looked to consider it for a moment, placing his finger in thought on his chin. He knew this was a play, to make Wilbur feel lowly for doing the same to him. He let the waves roll over him.

His voice was quiet, when Q finally answered. "I don't think Schlatt really heard me when I asked, you're right about him not caring. It's just- you two wanted to use me just for votes, man. Can I really trust you?"

No, no you can't, Wilbur could say, could tell the truth. But honesty may be a virtue, but this is fucking politics and the only way to win here was blood and silver-tongues.

"We're not going to use you for votes. You'll be co-president and everything, we'll-" his voice broke for a moment, bile in his throat, "we'll share the power. You can trust me."

Quackity looked at him for a moment, and then Tommy.

"Alright, Swog it is."

[ruiningwritingprompts]

Some Submission Rules/ other stuff

This blog's name does not intend that I'm out to get people who run writing prompt blogs 😭. I love writing, and I love reading the reblogs from people who take the prompt seriously, y'all are super creative! I just intend to "ruin" the prompt by answering it in an unorthodox way. I liked doing it on my main for a bit, and thought hey, I should just run a separate blog so I can do it more.

I'm obviously not going to answer prompts that are mean-spirited. No homophobia, transphobia, racism, xenophobia, etc. on this blog, period.

I'm willing to answer some stranger prompts for the laughs, but nothing NSFW.

No fandom related prompts, I live under a rock and I'd feel bad for not writing a prompt if its for a fandom I don't know.

I feel like I have to reiterate, this blog is titled "ruining" writing prompts, this is for humor, there is no bad or wrong way to write, I just like answering the prompts un-conventionally and being a bit of a goofball.