#i like the narrator’s voice as well; he’s nailing it

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m trying to give The Grinch (2018) a chance, I really am, but all I can think is

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link ~ next chapter-> I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?” 

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name. 

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear. 

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?” 

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive. 

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl. 

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention. 

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room. 

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little. 

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite. 

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn’t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again. 

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure  what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men. 

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed. 

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s-  you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard  to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?” 

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.” 

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table. 

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them. 

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions. 

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you. 

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house. 

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall. 

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid. 

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips. 

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.” 

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting. 

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.” 

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house. 

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice  firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide  your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.” 

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion. 

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.” 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?” 

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

[steveseddie]

don’t wait for the sky to clear

steddie | rating: t | wc: 1,7k | cw: none | tags: steve has a crush, eddie has no impulse control, flirting, pet names

for @steddie-spooktober day one, prompt “rain”

read here on ao3

Steve almost doesn’t hear the knock on the door— barely audible over the heavy rain that’s been falling over Hawkins for most of the evening. 

Then he almost ignores it, ready to wave it off as the wind making some tree branches knock against the side of the house, mostly because he’s convinced no one would be stupid enough to set foot outside in this downpour.  

But then he hears it again. Louder, more insistent, definitely not a branch knocking against the house.

Frowning, Steve turns off the TV, cutting off the commentators narrating the basketball game that has kept him mildly entertained since the rain started. As he pads over to the door, his eyes dart towards the nail bat resting against the wall and he wonders if he should reach for it, if it’s possible that what’s waiting on the other side of the door is actually monster, flushed out by the rain like sewer rats during a flood. 

Steve shakes his head. “Chill out, Harrington,” he mutters to himself, “Monsters don’t knock.” 

And so Steve swings the door open and is immediately hit by the sharp biting cold— and the sight of a soaked Eddie Munson, shivering on his porch. 

“Eddie?” Steve asks, voice laced with shock. 

Eddie shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “There you are! Thought you were gonna leave me out here to drown.”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t actually expect anyone to be out here.”

“Well—” Eddie holds his hands out in a ta-da gesture, “—Surprise!”

“I am surprised. What the hell are you doing out here in this storm, man? You’re drenched! Did you fucking bike here or something?”

“Nope, I drove, of course,” Eddie explains, waving a hand at the van parked in Steve’s driveway. “But I spent the last twenty minutes pacing in the rain so there’s that.”

Steve sputters. “Why?” 

“It helps clear my head,” Eddie says with a shrug, like that makes perfect sense. It doesn’t. 

“And you decided to do it in front of my house because—” Steve trails off, hoping Eddie will elaborate. 

“Convenience,” Eddie says, which doesn’t actually explain anything. Then he bites his lip nervously. “You see, Stevie, I have something to tell you.” 

Steve tears his eyes away from Eddie’s pink lips, narrowing them at him. “And you couldn’t, I don’t know, call me?” 

Eddie shakes his head, sending droplets of water flying, hitting Steve’s face. “It’s not something I wanted to say over the phone,” he admits, scruffing his feet against the floor, deliberately not meeting Steve's gaze.

Steve’s eyes dart to the bat again. He tenses up, fear bubbling up inside him. “Oh shit, are you seeing things? Is it Vecna again? Fuck, it’s only been a few months, it was supposed to be fucking over. Christ, do we need to call a code red? Do we—”

“Steve, hey, breathe,” Eddie cuts in, stepping into the house, trailing water all over Steve’s entryway, the wind swinging the door shut behind him. He grabs Steve’s shoulders, digging his thumbs into his collarbones to get his attention. “It’s not Vecna, it’s not the Upside Down, everything’s fine. Stevie, look at me.”

Steve does, hazy eyes taking a moment to focus on Eddie— his limp soaked hair, his drenched clothes, his nose and cheeks both red from the cold. 

“You look like a wet rat,” Steve says, swallowing a few times to get rid of the lump that lodged itself in his throat as he spiraled. 

Eddie huffs out a snort. “I know,” he says, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes Steve want to kiss it. “Not a particularly attractive look, which isn’t ideal considering what I’m here to do.”

Steve disagrees, he finds Eddie plenty attractive like this, but he lets the comment slide to ask, “And what’s that?”

Eddie bites his lip. “Please don’t freak out on me again.” 

“I thought you said it wasn’t the Upside Down—” Steve says, raising his eyebrow. 

“It’s not, it’s— fuck, it’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic. You’re a good guy, you’re not gonna freak out even if you don’t—” He trails off, gesturing vaguely. 

“Even if I don’t what?”

Eddie lets out a puff of air. “Even if you don’t like me back,” he says and Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. “‘Cause what I came here to do— the reason why I was pacing in the rain, probably catching pneumonia or something— was to ask you out. On a date. With me.”

Steve’s stomach flip flops. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees lightning flash in the distance. “Right now?” He asks, glancing at the window as thunder follows, the rain refusing to let up even for a minute. “Because I’d love to, Eds, but I really don’t want to go out in a storm—”

Eddie makes a pained expression. “No, sweetheart, not right— Wait.” He blinks as Steve’s words register. “‘You'd love to’?” He asks, his voice an octave higher. 

Steve nods, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters. His hands, which up to this point were still on Steve’s shoulders, fall to his sides as he stands there, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“What? You thought I’d say no?” Steve asks, tilting his head. “That I’d freak out?” 

Eddie shrugs. "I just thought that if you liked me too, you would’ve asked me out already!”

“I thought about it,” he says, eliciting a squeal from Eddie. “But Eds, I’ve only ever been in one relationship and I fucked it up. I didn’t want to do the same with you.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says softly, lips pursing as he thinks over something. “Well, I’ve never been in a relationship so technically I haven’t fucked up any so maybe our odds will balance each other out, y’know?” 

That doesn’t sound right to Steve, but Eddie is grinning at him and he just asked him out on a date, and Steve can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

“Okay,” he agrees, unable to stop himself from grinning too. “Then yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you, Eddie.” 

Flustered but obviously pleased, Eddie plays with his hair, water dripping from the wet curls. 

“Can I ask you something too?”

“You just did,” Eddie says with a smirk. When Steve half-heartedly rolls his eyes, he adds, “But yeah, I’ll allow it.” 

“What made you do this right now in the middle of a storm?” He asks, an amused tilt to his voice. 

“Well, I was talking to our favorite redhead on the phone, just shooting the shit, y’know? So after like, the third time I said, um, that I missed you, she told me I was pathetic and that I should drive over here and ask you out already so—” Eddie shrugs, “—I did. I don’t think she expected me to just hang up on her and take off in the middle of the storm, and honestly neither did I, not until I was doing it.”

Steve shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, “but hey, I was missing you too, y’know.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, giddy and disbelieving at the same time. 

“Of course, Eds.” 

Eddie giggles, high-pitched and cute. “Well, hopefully you won’t miss me too much now.” He glances at the window, lips pursed. “Since I should probably head back.” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit in a frown. “No way, you’re not going out in this rain again,” he says, “you can stay here and I’ll let you borrow something to wear.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, yielding all too easily.

Steve smirks triumphantly. “Good, now let’s get you out of those clothes.” 

Eddie lets out a squeak, clutching his chest. “Harrington! At least buy me dinner first!”

“Hey, you asked me out, so you are buying me dinner,” Steve says, wagging his finger in Eddie’s face, who pretends to try to bite it off. “Right now I’m just making sure you don’t get hypothermia.”

“How chivalrous of you, sweetheart,” Eddie says, eyelashes fluttering, a pretty pink blush covering his cheeks. 

Steve hates to leave the sight of a flustered Eddie, but since he arrived his shivering has gotten worse and Steve is worried he’s actually going to catch something. 

“Wait here,” he says, heading upstairs to his room. There, he grabs some old sweatpants, a cozy green sweater he’d love to see Eddie in and a pair of fuzzy socks Robin got him for his birthday last year. Fighting a blush, he also grabs some boxers. Finally, he stops by the bathroom to grab a towel so Eddie can dry his hair. 

He goes back downstairs where he follows the water path and finds Eddie, not in the entryway but in the living room, going through the Harringtons’ VHS collection.

“My, my, my, Stevie! What’s this?” He asks when he sees Steve, holding up a tape to him with a playful smirk. 

Steve recognizes it as one of the Star Wars movies— not the one he likes, with the teddies. 

“Oh, that’s Henderson’s,” Steve says, dumping the clothes on the couch and joining Eddie. “He must’ve left it here.”

“‘Left it here’, uh huh,” Eddie says, doing air quotes with his fingers. “Just admit you like it. That you’re a nerd!” 

Steve smirks. “No, but I like you, nerd,” he says, cupping Eddie’s cheeks with his hands and tilting his head forward so he can press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. 

When he pulls back, Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, his face bright red.

“Cute,” Steve says, out loud this time, which only makes Eddie blush even harder. 

“Jesus H. Christ, if hypothermia doesn’t kill me, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a shaky laugh, tugging some hair in front of his face, “you might.”

“If you die before you can take me on a date,” Steve says, hands on his hips, “I will.”

Eddie sniggers. “Not even death could keep me from taking you out, Stevie! I would crawl out of hell just to have dinner with you! I would brave one thousand storms!” 

Steve laughs, interrupting Eddie’s dramatics and steering him towards the downstairs bathroom, picking up the clothes on the way. “Okay, you weirdo, come on.” 

Eddie doesn’t put up any more resistance and finally changes into Steve’s clothes. Afterwards, they watch the movie that Henderson may or may not have left behind and they cuddle— to warm Eddie up, of course. 

They both agree it doesn’t count as their first date, but when the rain finally stops and Eddie leaves, he still kisses Steve goodnight. 

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family: Family Portrait

I finally got around to reading the SxF light novel, Family Portrait...and I mean "finally" because it's literally been sitting in my shelf since it was first released in English back in December of last year! I was distracted by Code White and the SxF video game which came out around the same time, but even long after that, I was having trouble getting motivated to read it. For some reason, experiencing SxF in novel format instead of in anime/manga just didn't appeal to me, plus the fact that it's not written by Endo himself (these weird preferences of mine are also why I'm not into reading fanfics either). Don't get me wrong, in general I love reading stories in prose form too, but for a series like SxF that already has such an established visual identity, it doesn't feel as "authentic" to me if that makes any sense. But I did want to read it eventually, since it is an official part of SxF media and Endo did the illustrations and does acknowledge the book (he wrote a nice afterword at the end). So I finally sat down and read it in sections over the course of this week! I'll share my brief thoughts on each of the contained stories:

Novel Mission 1

Since this was the first story in the book, it took me a while to get used to experiencing the world of SxF in novel form. There were some things I felt would have been better conveyed in anime/manga, for example, one of the very first gags about Yor misinterpreting Anya's nature class as some sort of hardcore outdoor survival trip. As I was reading that part I was like "I get the joke, but it would have been funnier if I actually saw these images and the characters' expressions with Endo's comedic illustrations." It was also a bit jarring to hear the characters thoughts and feelings from third-person narration, but I got used to it. As for the story itself, it was Damianya focused, something I'm not particularly into, but I don't mind it either. I liked the rare, soft Damian moments, and the thing with the squirrel eating Anya's peanut trail was funny. I also liked the scene at the beginning where Loid and Yor feed Bond together while Anya watches.

Novel Mission 2

Oddly, this was my favorite of the stories! Of all the characters, I think the author nailed Yuri's unhinged thoughts the best - as I was reading, I couldn't help but hear every cringe thought in his voice, which is a good sign of how well the author gets the character! I actually chuckled at a few parts too, both from his insane Yor-obsessed and anti-Loid musings, as well as from his banter with Anya. The police interrogation scene was great and would be even better if it ever gets animated! I also found it interesting that this story has the first instance where we find out what Yuri thinks about Bond (that he's fat and useless - rude!) Also his first time hearing about Franky apparently...makes we wonder if Endo will make him feel the same way if these things ever come up in the manga.

Novel Mission 3

I liked this story a lot too! I think it worked the best in novel format out of all of them, probably because it was more focused on drama and emotions than comedy. It's ironic that the two official SxF stories that feature the deeper side of Franky's character - this one and the omake chapter from volume 13 - are both not even part of the main canon! Alessa would have definitely accepted Franky's job as an informant, but he felt that someone like her should only be surrounded by "beautiful things." The poor man really needs to see that inner beauty matters too, and he has that! I also think he should have swallowed his pride and told Loid the real reason why he wanted the disguise...not that it would have changed the outcome. Poor Franky.

Novel Mission 4

This was a cute Forger-focused story, but like the first one, I felt it had parts that would have been more effective in anime/manga form, for example, "hair monster" Yor and whatever hideous painting Felix ended up making! But despite that, it was still funny and cute. Though I do think the author went a tad overboard with Yor's flustered antics...they just kept going and going, lol. Also, like the movie, we have another scenario of Loid getting flung into the air by Yor but landing gracefully on his feet (though this instance was much tamer since she wasn't drunk and only pushed him instead of hit him). Again, maybe I would have appreciated the humor in this story better if I saw it in anime/manga with Endo's hilarious designs and expressions, but for what it was, it was enjoyable enough.

Short Novel

This extra short story would be perfect as a reintroduction story for a future anime season...maybe one day!

-----

Overall, the Family Portrait novel is a nice addition to the Spy x Family universe. Even though I feel the humor in the series is most effective in illustrated form, it's still nice to have more stories in the canon, especially ones that show new sides to the characters, like the Franky and Yuri stories. Like the movie, it's debatable if this novel should be considered true canon or not, but personally, I don't find anything in it that contradicts canon, at least not yet. So yeah, definitely check out the novel if you haven't already! 😁

[alyrasturnz]

can you write something long for matt like he had such a perfect relationship with y/n but they just fell apart but y/n still misses him

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ALL TOO WELL

❐ summary » despite her deepest wishes to forget, y/n found herself haunted by the vivid memories, each detail etched into her mind all too well. the echoes of past moments reverberated through her thoughts, refusing to fade and instead growing sharper with each passing day. every glance, every word, every emotion was remembered all too well, creating an inescapable tapestry of recollections that bound her to the past.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » toxic relationship, no happy ending

❐ a/n && w/c » to commemorate 300 followers, here’s a fic inspired by the 30th track from red 🤍 • 5.70k

matt’s sunroof was retracted, inviting the wind to dance through your hair as the car glided down the open road. the song playing in the background seemed to narrate the journey, each note intertwining with the whispering breeze, creating a symphony that echoed the freedom and exhilaration of the moment. the sky above stretched endlessly, adding to the sense of boundless adventure and the promise of new horizons.

on the journey to meet matt’s parents, you found yourself traveling back with him to his hometown of boston. the anticipation of the encounter weighed heavily on your mind, and a sense of nervousness permeated every thought.

the cityscape of boston, with its historic charm and bustling energy, seemed to mirror the whirlwind of emotions you were experiencing. each mile closer brought a blend of excitement and apprehension, as you prepared to step into a new chapter of your relationship.

your smile gradually diminished, overtaken by the torrent of thoughts swirling through your mind. the lighthearted giggles that once filled the air ceased, leaving a palpable silence in their wake. matt, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in your demeanor, his concern growing as he sensed the weight of your unspoken worries.

he quickly cast a brief glance in your direction before returning his focus to the road ahead. with a tender gesture, he placed his free hand on your thigh, his fingers gently tracing soothing patterns, offering silent reassurance amidst the unfolding journey.

"you'll be fine, y/n. they will love you," matt said, his voice carrying a gentle assurance. as he spoke, his thumb traced delicate circles on your thigh, each motion a silent promise of support and comfort.

"i hope you aren’t lying to me," you chuckle nervously, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the skin around your nails. the laughter that escaped your lips was tinged with uncertainty, a fragile attempt to mask the underlying tension.

matt lifts his hand from your thigh, his gaze shifting to meet yours. with a gentle determination, he takes your hand in his, halting your anxious picking. his touch, both firm and tender, speaks volumes, offering a silent plea for calm and reassurance.

his hand falls gently onto your lap, your fingers still entwined with his. with a soothing rhythm, he rubs circles on your knuckles, each movement a silent lullaby, a tender attempt to ease the tension that lingers in the air.

the warmth of his touch seems to seep into your skin, a wordless promise of comfort and understanding. as his thumb traces those gentle patterns, it feels as though he is trying to communicate something deeper, something beyond words—a reassurance that, no matter what lies ahead, you are not alone.

"i would never lie to you, y/n," he murmurs softly, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his lips. his voice carries a blend of sincerity and vulnerability, as if each word is carefully chosen to bridge the gap between doubt and trust. the gentle curve of his smile, though modest, holds a quiet conviction, a silent vow etched in the subtle lines of his expression.

"that's so cheesy," you say between giggles as he playfully scoffs. your laughter dances in the air, mingling with the light-hearted atmosphere. as you shift your gaze back to the road, your eyes suddenly widen in alarm. "matt! red light!" you exclaim, your voice sharp with urgency, cutting through the moment of levity like a knife.

his eyes widen, a flash of realization crossing his face as he quickly turns back to the road. with a swift, almost instinctive motion, he presses the brakes, the car jolting slightly as it comes to a sudden halt. the urgency of the moment hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the light-heartedness that preceded it.

the car comes to a halt, and an almost palpable silence fills the space, heavy with the echoes of what just transpired. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet stretching out like a held breath. then, as if on cue, you both turn to look at each other, and soft laughs begin to bubble up, breaking the tension and filling the car with a shared sense of relief and amusement.

"you idiot!" you scold, a playful reprimand laced with laughter as you gently swat matt's arm. the gesture, though light-hearted, carries with it a mix of relief and affection, a testament to the bond you share.

"i can't help it! you're just so pretty," he says, his eyes glistening with a star-struck wonder. his gaze, filled with admiration, seems to capture the very essence of his emotions, making his words resonate with a heartfelt sincerity.

"you would run a rom com like the navy one day, i just know it," you say with a soft chuckle, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and certainty. matt playfully scoffs, the sound a light-hearted counterpoint to your words, adding to the tapestry of your shared moment.

»--•--«

you step out of the car, the cool air brushing against your face, as matt, with a gentle yet firm hand, holds the passenger door open for you, his eyes reflecting a quiet strength and an unspoken promise.

despite the scarf snugly wrapped around your neck and the jacket enveloping your body, the relentless cold air still managed to pierce through, its icy fingers nipping at your skin, a stark reminder of autumn’s unforgiving embrace.

"it's cold," you murmured softly, as matt, with a tender yet protective gesture, draped an arm around you, the gentle click of the passenger door closing behind him punctuating the quiet of the night.

you looked up and saw the autumn leaves cascading down, each one descending gracefully, like pieces of a grand puzzle settling into place. the vibrant hues of amber, gold, and crimson swirled in the air, creating a mesmerizing dance as they drifted towards the earth.

the gentle rustling of the leaves, accompanied by the crisp, cool breeze, whispered secrets of the changing season, enveloping you in a serene and almost magical moment.

you and matt walked towards his house, each step accompanied by the soft crunch of fallen leaves beneath your feet. as you reached the doorstep, the world seemed to hold its breath. matt's hand, steady and deliberate, rose to knock on the door, the sound resonating through the quiet evening air, a gentle yet firm announcement of your arrival.

his mother, marylou, soon opened the door, her smile radiating a warmth that seemed to chase away the evening chill. "hello dear! you must be y/n. matt has told me all about you," she exclaimed with a bubbly enthusiasm, her voice like a melody of welcome. as she pulled you into an embrace, her hug enveloped you in a cocoon of comfort and kindness, reminiscent of a hearth's glow on a cold autumn night.

"oh, did he?" you smiled, the warmth of her embrace still lingering as she released you. your gaze shifted to matt, whose cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. he glanced to the side, his eyes avoiding yours, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"come in, the food’s gonna get cold," she said, her voice a gentle urging. she stepped aside, allowing you and matt to cross the threshold. the warmth of the house enveloped you both as you walked in, the inviting aroma of a home-cooked meal wafting through the air, promising comfort and delight.

you walked into the house, the warm air enveloping you like a familiar embrace. it felt as though the very walls whispered stories of comfort and belonging, each step drawing you deeper into the heart of what could only be described as home.

you took your coat off, carefully hanging it on the coat hanger, the fabric whispering against the wood. matt mirrored your actions, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if this simple ritual held a deeper significance, marking the transition from the outside world into the sanctuary of the home.

you unwind your scarf, draping it over the newel post of the staircase with a fluid motion. as you ascend the stairs alongside matt, the soft fabric of the scarf gently sways, echoing the rhythm of your steps, each one resonating with the unspoken anticipation of what lies ahead.

you entered the kitchen, immediately recognizing it from the videos they’d post. the familiar layout and cozy ambiance felt like stepping into a scene that had played out countless times in your mind, each detail resonating with a sense of déjà vu and belonging.

you and matt walked into the dining room, where the soft glow of candlelight danced upon the walls. you see jimmy, nick, and chris seated at the dining table, their faces illuminated with a warm, welcoming glow. as you take your seat and matt settles beside you, a sense of camaraderie and shared history fills the room, weaving an invisible thread that connects you all.

the entire dinner was a symphony of laughter and chatter, the sound weaving through the air like an intricate tapestry. each story and jest added a new thread, creating a rich fabric of shared joy and connection that seemed to envelop everyone in its warmth.

soon enough, everyone finished their dinner. "we can watch a movie or something," chris suggested, taking the last bite of his meal. the room fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft clinking of cutlery and the murmur of agreement as everyone nodded, the prospect of continuing the evening's camaraderie drawing a collective sense of anticipation.

"y/n and i will follow," marylou said with a smile, her words carrying a gentle warmth. as everyone else murmured their assent, they rose from their seats and made their way to the living room, the air filled with a quiet sense of expectation and the subtle promise of shared moments yet to unfold.

"y/n, i have something i want to show you," marylou said, her eyes sparkling with a blend of excitement and secrecy. with a playful grin, she rose from her seat and glided out of the room, leaving an aura of intrigue and a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

she returned with a photo album in her hands, the edges worn with time and memories. as she placed it gently on the table, she began to flip through the pages, each turn revealing a new chapter of stories and faces.

there was a photo of matt as a little kid, his hair still a sunlit blonde, captured in the innocence of sleep in his twin-sized bed. the image seemed to whisper tales of childhood dreams and the passage of time, a tender snapshot of a simpler era.

"that's matt?" you said, your voice a blend of shock and awe. your eyes softened, taking in the scene as she chuckled, the sound carrying a warmth that bridged past and present.

"yeah, and there's a lot more where that came from," marylou replied, her fingers deftly flipping through the pages until she paused at an image of matt on his tee-ball team. the photo captured a moment of youthful exuberance, frozen in time, as the pages of the album continued to reveal the layers of his early adventures.

"he did tee-ball?" you giggled in disbelief, the sound tinged with surprise. matt had never mentioned his days on the tee-ball field, and the revelation painted a new layer to the portrait you had of him.

"yeah. for a few months before switching to hockey," marylou said, her voice tinged with a wistful reminiscence. the album's pages seemed to murmur tales of fleeting seasons, each sport a chapter in the evolving story of matt's youth.

matt walked into the room. "what's taking you two so long?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. he approached with an easy stride, standing beside you and placing a hand gently on your back. as he leaned in to scrutinize the photos, his face flushed a deep crimson, a silent testament to the memories laid bare before him.

"mom!" he exclaimed, grinning sheepishly, his cheeks turning a vivid shade of red. the word carried a blend of affection and mild embarrassment, painting a picture of a moment both tender and humorous.

"matt managed to whack the tee so hard that it flew off and struck the coach squarely in the shin," marylou recounted with a grin. "the coach hopped around in pain, eliciting laughter from everyone. matt, mortified by the spectacle, quit in sheer embarrassment," she added, her smile broadening as you let out a laugh.

"alright, that's enough," matt said, his face flushed with complete embarrassment as he closed the photo album with a decisive snap. "we will never speak of this again," he declared, pointing at you with a mixture of finality and playful admonishment.

"no promises," you smirked, a mischievous glint in your eye, as he let out a groan of exasperation.

"i'm never gonna hear the end of this, am i?" matt asked, a resigned sigh escaping his lips as marylou walked out of the room and into the living room, leaving behind an air of playful mockery.

you rise gracefully, planting a tender kiss upon his lips. "never," you murmur softly against his mouth, eliciting a playful scoff from him. "now, tell me more about the tee ball team," you continue, your curiosity piqued.

matt hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he sighed and began, "okay, fine. there was this one time, i felt incredibly confident, but when i swung, i missed entirely. on my second attempt, though, i hit the ball with such force that it ricocheted off the fence and came hurtling back, striking me right on the helmet."

you let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room, as matt stood there, seemingly unfazed, a bemused smile playing on his lips. the juxtaposition of your laughter and his serene demeanor created a moment of shared amusement, rich with unspoken understanding.

"it's not that funny," he said, his smile lingering despite the embarrassment that colored his cheeks. he was undeniably self-conscious, yet he couldn't help but revel in the sound of your laughter and the sight of your radiant smile, finding solace in the joy it brought.

"it is! oh my god!" you exclaimed between bouts of laughter, "i can just imagine it." your words tumbled out amidst your mirth, painting a vivid picture in your mind of the scene he had described, each detail adding to the hilarity.

»--•--«

once the house had settled into the stillness of slumber, and the rhythmic breathing of those asleep filled the air, you and matt silently slipped out of the confines of his room. the door creaked ever so slightly as it closed behind you, a whisper of sound that seemed magnified in the hush of the night. hand in hand, you navigated the dimly lit hallway, the soft padding of your footsteps barely disturbing the tranquility that enveloped the house.

"you should really consider decorating your room, y’know," you giggle, your voice a gentle ripple in the quiet room, as you rest against the counter, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on its cool, smooth surface.

he opens the fridge, the door swinging wide with a soft creak, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with a resolute "not happening" look that speaks volumes. the light from the fridge bathes his features in a soft, ethereal glow, casting delicate shadows that dance across his face, highlighting the firmness of his expression.

"wait! stay still, you look so good right now," you exclaimed, a radiant smile spreading across your face. with a fluid motion, you reached into your pocket, retrieving your phone and quickly snapping a photo of him, capturing the moment in a frame of digital memory.

"i do? really?" he asked, his smile playful as you nodded. "c'mere," he murmured, his voice a soft invitation. with a gentle touch, he laid your phone flat on the counter, his fingers lingering for a moment. then, with a tender grasp, he took your hand, pulling you close. in one fluid motion, he spun you around, the world blurring for a moment as you twirled, laughter bubbling up between you.

"may i have this dance?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting, the cool air from the fridge mingling with the warmth of his touch. his words hung in the air, a gentle melody that intertwined with the soft hum of the refrigerator, creating a moment suspended in time.

as you swayed together, the hum of the refrigerator provided a rhythmic backdrop to your impromptu dance. the coolness of the floor beneath your feet contrasted sharply with the warmth that seemed to radiate from your intertwined hands. the world outside this moment faded away, leaving just the two of you, moving in perfect harmony to the silent symphony of your hearts.

matt's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, the world outside the kitchen seemed to fade away. the simplicity of the scene—just the two of you, moving together in the soft light—was imbued with a sense of magic and intimacy.

his fingers lightly traced patterns on your back, and you could feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, against your cheek. the air was thick with unspoken words, every touch and glance a silent conversation that spoke volumes.

"this is perfect," you whispered, resting your head against his chest. your words seemed to dissolve into the warmth of his embrace, each syllable a tender echo that mingled with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. the moment felt like a delicate tapestry woven from fleeting seconds, each one imbued with a timeless serenity that made the world beyond disappear.

matt chuckled softly, his breath ruffling your hair. "it really is," he murmured, holding you a little tighter. the scent of something sweet from the fridge mingled with the faint aroma of his cologne, creating a unique blend that you knew you would always associate with this moment.

the air seemed to shimmer with an almost tangible sense of connection, each breath you took filling you with a profound sense of contentment and belonging.

as the minutes passed, you both lost track of time, the kitchen becoming your private sanctuary. the outside world, with all its noise and chaos, seemed a distant memory. in the refrigerator light, everything felt simpler, more profound. the gentle hum of the appliance served as a lullaby, weaving a cocoon of tranquility around you, where every heartbeat and whisper echoed with a timeless resonance.

"i wish we could stay like this forever," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. your words floated in the air, delicate and fragile, as if they were a secret shared only with the night. the sentiment hung between you, a wistful longing that seemed to transcend the moment, filling the space with an almost palpable sense of yearning.

"who says we can't?" matt replied, his tone filled with gentle resolve. "for as long as we're here, this moment is ours." his words, though simple, carried the weight of a promise, resonating with a quiet strength that seemed to fortify the fragile bubble of time you both inhabited. the certainty in his voice wrapped around you like a protective cloak, anchoring you in the profound stillness of the present.

and so you continued to dance, the refrigerator light casting a soft glow on your faces, illuminating the love and connection that bound you together. in that quiet, secluded space, you found a piece of eternity.

the soft hum of the refrigerator and the gentle rhythm of your movements created a symphony of stillness, each note a testament to the unspoken bond you shared. in that fleeting moment, time seemed to stretch and bend, allowing you to grasp a fragment of forever.

»--•--«

the atmosphere was thick with an unspoken heaviness, like the charged air before a tempest. "you never listen to me, matt," you uttered, your voice quivering with a mix of frustration and despair. "i feel like i'm always shouting into the void, and you just don’t care.”

matt's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity. "that's not fair," he retorted sharply. "i've always been here for you, but you never see it. you're always too wrapped up in your own world to notice."

"my own world?" you echoed, your eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. "you're the one who's always distant, always distracted." you threw your hands up in frustration. "it's like i'm living with a ghost."

"maybe if you weren't so demanding, i wouldn't have to be," matt retorted, his voice rising. he clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. "i can't breathe with you always on my back."

the words cut deep, and you felt a pang of hurt. your eyes welled up as you took a shaky breath. "so it's my fault now?" you asked, your voice breaking. "i'm the reason you're unhappy?"

matt ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. his fingers tangled in the strands as he sighed deeply. "i didn't say that. but maybe we just want different things. maybe we're not meant to be."

the silence that followed was deafening, each second stretching into an eternity. finally, you took a deep breath, your heart heavy and your voice trembling. "maybe you're right," you said quietly. "maybe we are better off apart."

matt's face softened for a moment, a flicker of regret crossing his features. he rubbed his temples, as if trying to soothe the turmoil within. "i never wanted it to come to this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "but i can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not."

tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. you clenched your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breath. "i thought we could make it through anything," you said, your voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "i believed in us."

"so did i," matt replied, his voice tinged with sorrow. he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes clouded with memories. "but sometimes, love isn't enough. sometimes, we have to let go to find ourselves again."

you stood there, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. the memories of your time together flashed before your eyes – the laughter, the shared dreams, the moments of pure joy.

each memory felt like a fleeting wisp of smoke, impossible to grasp. the vibrant colors of your shared past dulled, transforming into sepia-toned snapshots that seemed to belong to another life. the echoes of your laughter, once so clear and resonant, now felt like distant whispers carried away by the wind, fading into the background and leaving behind only a haunting silence.

"i guess this is goodbye, then," you said, your voice barely audible, like a fragile whisper lost in the vast expanse of a desolate night. the words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of finality, each syllable a reluctant farewell to the dreams and promises that once bound your hearts together.

matt nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "goodbye," he whispered, the word slipping from his lips like a final breath, carrying with it the weight of unspoken emotions and the lingering shadows of what could have been.

without another word, you turned and walked away, your footsteps echoing in the empty room. as you reached the door, you paused for a moment, your hand resting on the doorknob, feeling the cold metal beneath your fingers.

then, with a final, decisive twist, you opened the door and stepped through, the sound of the door slamming behind you echoing through the space like a thunderclap, reverberating with the finality of an irrevocable choice.

and just like that, the fragile thread that had held you together snapped, leaving only the echoes of what once was, lingering in the silence like the haunting remnants of a forgotten melody, each note a ghostly reminder of a bond now severed.

»--•--«

you walked on the sidewalks, your cold hands stuffed in your pockets. it was that time of the year again, autumn, when the crisp air carried the scent of fallen leaves and the world seemed to be painted in hues of amber and gold, each step a quiet reflection of the fleeting nature of time.

the season you had dedicated to your first and last love, matt, a time when every rustling leaf seemed to whisper his name and the fading daylight mirrored the bittersweet memories of a love that once burned brightly but now lingered like a distant, melancholic echo.

the memories were swirling in your head as you stepped on the leaves, each crunch beneath your feet a vivid reminder of that fateful night you met his parents, the leaves then as now, a tapestry of moments woven into the fabric of your shared history.

but it wasn't the same. it would never be the same, for the passage of time had woven an intricate web of change, altering the very essence of those moments, leaving behind only the faintest echoes of what once was, forever out of reach.

the leaves in boston had a slightly more colorful tone than the ones here in la. in boston, the leaves descended with a deliberate grace, each one finding its place in a vast, intricate puzzle, creating a tapestry of autumnal splendor that seemed almost choreographed by nature itself.

here in la, however, the leaves fell in a haphazard manner, accumulating in untidy heaps that lacked the same poetic precision and vibrant palette, as if the very essence of autumn had been diluted in the sprawling urban landscape.

just like your relationship. you knew without matt that things would never be the same anymore. the leaves weren’t as colorful and arranged as before, just like your life without matt. the vibrant hues that once painted your days had faded, and the meticulous order that defined your shared moments had given way to a disarray that mirrored the void in your heart.

the world around you seemed to have lost its luster, and the once harmonious rhythm of your existence had been replaced by a discordant melody, each note a reminder of the absence that now permeated your life.

the once vivid tapestry of your shared experiences had unraveled, leaving behind a landscape of muted tones and chaotic fragments, each one a testament to the profound change that his absence had wrought upon your soul.

you couldn't imagine life without him, and now you're living it. the very thought of his absence was once an unfathomable void, a chasm too deep to contemplate, and yet here you stand, navigating the labyrinth of existence without his guiding presence.

each day unravels like a somber tapestry, threads of memory and longing weaving through the fabric of your reality, reminding you of the stark contrast between the vibrant life you once knew and the shadowed path you now tread.

the echo of his laughter, the warmth of his touch, all now distant phantoms that haunt the corridors of your mind, leaving you to grapple with a reality that feels both surreal and achingly real.

the relentless march of seconds feels like an eternity, each moment stretching into a vast expanse of aching stillness, trapping you in an unyielding stasis. the weight of your longing presses heavily upon your chest, a constant reminder of the vibrant self you once were, now seemingly lost in the mists of time.

the person you once knew intimately, with dreams and laughter, feels like a distant echo, unreachable and shrouded in an impenetrable fog. every effort to reclaim that past self feels like grasping at shadows, leaving you with the haunting realization that the journey back to who you once were is a path fraught with insurmountable obstacles, each step a reminder of the chasm that now lies between your past and present.

the parcels, filled with remnants of shared memories, arrived like silent harbingers of an end you were not ready to accept. each step you take on the familiar path feels heavy with the weight of absence, the echoes of conversations and laughter that once filled the air now replaced by an eerie silence.

the streets, once vibrant with the life you built together, now seem haunted by the specter of what once was. the shadows cast by the setting sun stretch long and cold, mirroring the void within you, as you traverse this solitary journey, the intangible essence of his presence clinging to your every thought, a constant reminder of the love and companionship that has now faded into the realm of memories.

amidst the returned items, meticulously packed and devoid of sentiment, there was a glaring omission that spoke volumes in its absence.

the scarf

a simple yet profound token of shared moments and whispered secrets, remained with him. its fabric, once a source of warmth and comfort, now symbolizes a lingering connection, an unspoken tether that binds you to a past that refuses to fully let go.

the absence of the scarf among your returned belongings is a silent testament to the fragments of your existence that still reside with him, a poignant reminder that not all ties can be severed through mere physical distance.

perhaps the lingering scent of you, woven into the very fibers of the scarf, evoked a nostalgic reverie of simpler times. those carefree days, when the world seemed boundless and time was but a fleeting concept, where the wind tangled in your hair as you drove with the roof down, and the soft glow of the refrigerator light cast a dreamy hue over your spontaneous dances. these moments, etched deeply into his memory, are preserved within that scarf, a tangible fragment of a past filled with innocence and unrestrained joy.

it's a poignant reminder of a time when life was unburdened by the complexities that now weigh heavily upon both of you, a testament to the fact that he remembers it all too well, and perhaps, holds onto it as a way to keep those cherished memories alive.

perhaps amidst the heated exchange, words twisted and meanings obscured, the essence of your intentions became a labyrinth of misunderstandings. maybe your desires seemed insatiable, a reflection of the depth of your yearning.

uncertainty clouded your thoughts, a myriad of maybes and possibilities weaving a tapestry of doubt. yet, amidst this fog of ambiguity, one truth stood unwavering. you recognized the undeniable beauty of your relationship, a masterpiece crafted from moments of joy, sorrow, and everything in between. it was an intricate mosaic, each piece a testament to the shared journey, the laughter, the tears, the silent understandings, and the spoken declarations.

in the grand gallery of your lives, this relationship held a place of honor, a testament to the profound connection that, despite its complexities, was nothing short of extraordinary.

within you surged a tempest of emotions, a whirlwind of anger and sorrow, compelling you to cast the blame upon him, to unleash a torrent of accusations and cries, to declare that he was the architect of the ruin.

yet, deep within the recesses of your heart, you knew this would be a falsehood, a deception crafted to mask the painful truth. to blame him entirely would be to deny the complexities of your shared narrative, the intricate dance of choices and circumstances that led to this point.

in the quiet moments of introspection, you recognized that the tapestry of your relationship was woven with threads of both your actions, your hopes, and your fears. to scream and yell would be to ignore the nuanced reality, to shroud the deeper understanding that the unraveling was a shared journey, a masterpiece of human imperfection.

your love for him transcended the physical confines of your being, an overwhelming force that surged through your veins, threatening to spill over the edges of your very existence. it was a love so profound, so intense, that it seemed to defy the limitations of flesh and bone, reaching into the deepest corners of your soul.

this love, boundless and consuming, was an uncontainable fire, a radiant light that illuminated your every thought, every heartbeat. it was as if your heart, in its fervent devotion, could scarcely bear the weight of such an emotion, straining under the immensity of its own passion. in the quiet moments, you felt this love as a palpable presence, a force that both uplifted and overwhelmed, a testament to the extraordinary depth of your connection.

the ache of his absence was a relentless tide, washing over you with such intensity that it seemed to stretch the very fibers of your heart to their breaking point. it was a yearning so profound, so all-encompassing, that it felt as though your heart could scarcely contain the magnitude of your longing.

each beat resonated with the hollow echo of his absence, a persistent reminder of the void that his departure left behind. this longing was not merely an emotion but a physical sensation, a weight that pressed upon your chest, constricting your breath and filling your soul with an ineffable sorrow. it was as if your heart, in its desperate desire to be reunited, could hardly endure the strain of such an immense and unyielding need.

the agony coursing through you was a tempest that neither heart nor mind could withstand, a torment so profound that it seemed to transcend the very limits of human endurance. your heart, with its fragile resilience, and your mind, with its vast complexities, both faltered under the weight of such relentless sorrow.

it was a pain that etched itself into the very fabric of your being, an indelible mark that time could never erase. each moment was a stark reminder of the memories that clung to you like shadows, vivid and unyielding.

for in the quiet recesses of your mind, and the deepest chambers of your heart, you knew that these memories would remain, hauntingly clear, a testament to the depth of your suffering and the enduring power of your love. all too well.

[billcyphersballsack]

Actually no joke I need to see more slay the monster (or whatever the reverse au is called) content.

I need to see the princesses perspectives translated into voices I need to hear how they think how they process. So much of (some of) the perspectives power comes from their control over their situations and I wanna know what they’d do with that partially taken away

I need to see the voices translated into perspectives I need to see how their forms are twisted and shaped by the princesses interactions with them.

I NEED to see how the narrator would respond to the shift. The entire reason the voice of the hero initially puts doubt in the player and hints that the narrators word might not be law is by pointing out the obvious tonal dissonance of a hero SLAYING a princess rather than SAVING her. But that doesn’t exist with slay the monster. The narrator wouldn’t need to work as hard to convince the player that they’re doing “the right thing” cuz it’s a monster! It’s chained up and dangerous and going to hurt a lot of people if you don’t kill it! The voice of the princess (my decided title for the VOT Hero in this au cuz obviously the actual Princess would be called the shifting mound the same way we’re the long quiet) would then have to take an angle of “we’re supposed to protect our subjects and our people. Monster or not, isn’t that what this creature is?” Which is still an appeal to the common trope as well as your morality. The narrator would play into your role as a princess like crazy going on about your duty to protect the world you rule over and to save innocent people who’s lives are in your hands, basically what he does to the long quiet but more

Mostly though I just think an inverse of their situations in the cabin would be fun. The chapter one princess is such an interesting character because she’s not the perfect victim. Her honey sweet voice and her doe eyes and her innocent scared demeanour aren’t necessarily fabricated just overplayed. She is genuinely scared, that’s the part that’s true, everything else is a desperate appeal to your humanity that you’ll let her go. It becomes somewhat real in the damsel rout when you free her and warn her and fight tooth and nail to save her, but for the most part it’s for show. If you come down there with a knife or decide mid convo you’re actually gonna kill her for real she drops it. She’s harsh and cold and keeps you at arms length, she acts bored and above it all when she speaks to you picking at her nails and glaring at you. GRANTED THAT COULD ALL BE WRONG! Maybe the harsh and cold personality is the fictitious one, a front built up to protect herself from danger, and really the frightened and desperate personality is the real one. MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH REAL! OR MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH MADE UP. It’s probably that last one but for the sake of my bit we’re going with the first one.

The point is the princess tries to appear put together and composed in both these versions of her personality, but deep down she’s like a caged wild animal and isn’t afraid to act like a caged wild animal if she has to

Now imagine the inverse of that, for The Monster

Outwardly a beast who smarls and claws at every surface trying to break free from its prison. If you bring the blade it slinks into the far corner of the room and hisses and spits while you trying and communicate with it but if you go unarmed it will lunge at you held back by its chains just barely. It’s frightening it’s threatening there is no attempt to appeal to any morality or present a domineering front to strong arm you into doing what it wants, it’s just pure violence and fear, a creature who wears its emotions on its sleeve. Depending on what you do it’s iterations become more or less beastly (I’d imagine guys like Stubborn or Broken or Hunted or Cold would get even more violent or reactive but guys like Paranoid or Opportunist or Cheated or Contrarian would have a more pensive and thoughtful approach, you can decide for the rest) but as you play and as you try and speak with it you discover actually there’s a lot more complex thought behind its eyes, and once the fear subsides there’s a person with throught and feelings hiding under all those feathers and teeth. Also not the perfect victim, they also bite the hand that feeds, but like a little to the left you know

Can you tell? Can you tell it’s like a worm digging into my frontal lobe and eating away at my brain? Huh? Can you tell???

[ddejavvu]

you know that whole pilot speech thing hangman does? like how a pilot speaks to the passengers? my mind is dirty and likes to wander……… just humor me, imagine, IMAGINE! it would both be kinda cute, but also BRRRRRR because he would just narrate everything in that voice and with that stupid huge grin. maybe it would be like “no fucking way that could do it for me” but then he does is as a joke and it’s like “wait….wait… it’s not funny anymore… keep going👀”

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"Jake," You gasp, laughter shaking your chest where it's pressed to his own, "No, stop- don't!"

He chuckles with a grin, gooey and sweet as his nose bumps your jaw,, "No, I'm sorry darlin', the announcement has to be made."

"Don't you dare," Through your fit of giggles you register the soft brush of his cockhead against your slit, and even though you're elated and giggly, your hips jerk up. He lets one last laugh out into the dewy skin of your neck, then adjusts his voice to pump it full of extra cockiness.

"Ladies and gentlemen," You can hear the smile in his voice, and you shriek with laughter in his grip, "An aircraft is approaching the hangar. Please open the- open the doors," His shoulders shake with laughter that leaks into his voice as he reaches down to nudge your thighs further apart, "And prepare for landing."

"You're so lame!" You giggle, the sound turning sultry at the end as it bleeds into a soft moan. He eases his cock into your pussy, pushing slow and steady as he slicks up his length in your wet cunt.

"Miss, please- do not call the pilot lame," Jake attaches his lips to your jaw, sucking and popping kisses to the skin there, "You seem to be enjoying yourself mighty well."

"It's your voice," You admit, laughter fading out from your lips when Jake bottoms out. You shift your hips with a whine, "It's- agh, it's sexy, Jake. It's really, really sexy."

"Well then," He grunts, hips pulling back to drag his cock along your walls until he's almost out completely. You nudge his chin up with your nose, and you bury your lips in his neck, face pressed to his throat, "I think the pilot should keep making his announcement."

"Please-! Please do," You pant, gripping at his shoulders and digging your nails into his soft flesh, "Please, Jake, I- ah! I can feel it."

As he speaks his throat vibrates ever so slightly, the sensation thrumming through your veins where you're flush to his throat. You lick, suck, and drool against his skin, teeth nipping at the tanned expanse before you.

You're surprised that, when paired with the steady pounding of his cock against your insides, you cum faster than normal. There's something about being pressed to his throat, practically sucking the words out of him as he drones in that cocky drawl of his. When your thighs stop their relentless trembling and he's still jackhammering into you, you push at his shoulders.

"Wait, wait!" You pant, "'S too much, I- I can't. C'mere." You urge, pushing his chest back and reaching for his stiff cock where it slides out of your cunt trailing a glob of slick, "My turn."

You sink to your knees beside the bed, and his eyes trail down your sweat-sheened figure, roving with special concentration over the sticky stains on your inner thighs.

"Oh, fuck, Jake." You breathe, mouth watering at the sight of his red-tipped, slick-soaked, leaking cock. You squeeze it gently, and he groans, hips shifting.

"Just- just hurry, darlin'." He pleads, bucking into your fist, "Please, can't take this much longer."

"I will, I will," This time it's your turn to grin deviously, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. Your voice is far too gleefully satisfied when you speak, almost rivaling his own in terms of cockiness, "I'm finally about to find out the deal with airplane food."

[user-rui]

Dominant!Seme!Male!Reader x Submissive!Uke!Male!Insert - Part 2

(U/n) = Uke name

(Y/n) = Your name

Here's the second part to this story.

A simple, smutty short story. Will contain BDSM. I did the opposite earlier in the book, but I think it's time to do it the other way around. The scenario I'm imagining is like the uke is a 'pet', and the seme is a master, just so that you can better understand the story. They're still in a romantic relationship, but they enjoy sex this way.

-Narrator's Pov-

"Inside you? But there's already two toys inside you, I won't fit," You stated as you began to strip, letting your own monster of a cock free from the confinements of your pants. "You want me to put it in with everything else right?" You said, your voice sounding very sarcastic.

"N-no~! I-I'll break if.. If you dooo~!" He cried, looking back to see your erect member. He squealed and looked back at the bed, both excited and scared. "Maybe if you push the tail out, I can put mine in. I'll give you three minutes, just using your ass, see if you can push the tail out. And if you don't..." You trailed, brushing your tip against the entrance, making the other whimper in fear at what you would do. (U/n) began to push the toy out, making distressed and pleasured noises as he squeezed his ass, trying to get the toy out.

"You have a minute."

The smaller male cried out and tried harder, more tears forming in the corners of his eyes as managed to get it out just in time. "Well done," You chuckled, getting onto the bed and behind the other, rubbing your member a little and applying some lube. "(Y-y/n)... V-vibrator..." (U/n) panted, whining a little as he felt the smaller toy still deep inside. "W-wait..! Vibrator!"

"Why wait? I'm sure you can handle a vibrator along with my cock," You seductively said as you trailed a finger over his back, making him shiver at the touch. Without further warning, you shoved your member inside of the other, until you were balls deep.

You let out a pleasured sigh as the vibrator came into contact with your sensitive organ, and you grabbed the remote to turn the toy onto the highest setting, making (U/n) arch his back and let out loud and lewd moan. You had began to pound from the near beginning of inserting your member into the other's wet core, pounding mercilessly as he cried and groaned, making music to your ears.

It fueled you to go faster, harder, until the smaller male lost his voice. "I told you, Ngh.. You can handle it~" You said, panting heavily from the amount of force being used. You held onto his waist, slightly digging your nails into the other's soft skin as you pulled him towards you with every thrust, harshly pushing the toy against (U/n)'s prostate.

"AHHHHH~!!" He screeched, his voice breaking at several points as you felt him tighten and shudder violently. "Dry orgasm, hm~?" You groan, not stopping your movements, even though the smaller male was practically a corpse underneath you. (U/n) was a moaning mess, and a mess in general.

His (uke hair colour) locks were messily scattered, and even a bit wet from all the tears and saliva that was overflowing out of him. He shook whenever you pushed into him, and he didn't have the energy to even grip the sheets anymore.

"P-pwease... N-n-need... C-cum..." He mumbled, his eyes were lidded and his tongue was sticking out. He mumbled some more, weakly shaking his head in protest as you felt your orgasm draw near. You were grunting as you sped up, closing your eyes in pure bliss, feeling your orgasm come.

You let a satisfied moan escape your mouth as you let your semen flow into the smaller male, making his eyes widen at the sudden feeling of warm liquid invading his ass. 

You reached down to remove the metal ring, which was covered in pre cum, and almost immediately, you could feel (U/n) member twitching violently as his seed spilled all over the blankets. The smaller male arched his back and let out a lewd moan as he rode out his orgasm.

"That was amazing," You huffed out, catching your breath from the intensity of the release. "Don't you agree?" You looked at the other male with a puzzled expression when you didn't get a response.

Even though he was still twitching and jerking at times, (U/n) was beyond exhausted and was definitely not going to wake up any time soon. You chuckled and turned off the vibrator, removing it from the other's ass.

You took off the cuffs and got up to go to the washroom to get something to quickly wash the other off. After changing the bed sheets for the back up one's you keep in the closet, you slipped into bed, holding the other close to you. "Good night, (U/n). I love you," You mumbled, feeling the tiredness of the previous activity kick in. Best sex ever... You thought as a tired smile appeared on your face before you drifted off to sleep, feeling your lover's warmth next to you.

[psychic-refugee]

Not only do I think the novel ISN’T canon Wenclair, I don’t think it’s canon Wednesday, to be honest.

It’s not enough that the book was approved and published. It should actually be accurate to the source material, the TV show.

If the Powers that Be approved the novel, then they approved errors and emphatically different narrative concepts that are in direct conflict with the TV show.

What exactly does that say about how much they cared about the content of the novel?

Overall, the TV show and the writers, Gough & Millar, are the controlling narrative. IMO. If the book is in conflict with the TV show and what the writers themselves have stated, then I can dismiss the novel.

Tehlor Kay Meija was hired to write the book, and it was approved for publishing. I cannot infer more than that on anyone’s motivations. Certainly not if they approve of ship.

I disagree with Meija’s interpretation of certain scenes, and I can point to obvious and glaring mistakes.

“In the baby-blue-wallpapered room, I open my bag.” p. 32

Here, we clearly see that not only is the bathroom not blue, she does not open her bag. Full scene:

It stays on her back. She taps the bag and orders Thing to give her a nail file. The bag flips open on its own and he gives her the file.

The book has a lot of these unnecessary and should have been easy to fix mistakes. I’ve seen some rude replies where they ask “Did you watch the show?” Interpreting certain thoughts and actions as sapphic or not is a matter of opinion. This is just flat out wrong.  

There are provable errors not only in description but dialogue.

The tone and characterization of Enid and Wednesday’s interaction is different with the incorrect dialogue and descriptions.

The entire book is like this. It has wrong or dropped dialogue and deviates from the original narrative concepts of the TV show.

Every character has been done a disservice by this book.

It seems the people you should ask if they watched the show are Meija and whomever approved publishing the book, errors and all.  

The book with its lack of details I think misses a lot of nuances that we see from facial expressions and body language on the show. Details on the possibility of what others are thinking via facial expressions and body language are inconsistent throughout the book.

There is an annoying plethora of exclamation marks that makes it seem people are yelling or excited when I think they’re actually trying to portray emphasis. That’s just a pet peeve of mine and I fully admit it’s petty, but it does make some, like Kinbott, seem more manic than the show intended.

“Well Wednesday, I hope you don’t think of me as your adversary,” [Kinbott] says. “I hope we can forge a relationship built on trust! And mutual respect!” p 30

Kinbott does not have this kind of excited inflection when speaking to Wednesday, ever. She always remains calm and uses a soothing voice, like she’s trying to talk to an unwilling cat. lol

I think it was a mistake to hire Meija, who specializes in children’s books. The TV show is aimed at teens, but also has a strong nostalgia factor for those who grew up in the 90’s and the movies. I think Netflix is aiming for a wide audience of older teens and adults. With the violence and “edgy” aesthetic and leanings, I think a writer for an older audience would have been more appropriate.

This book was clearly made JUST for children. The bigger print, low word count, and very simplistic narration make it for an elementary grade reading level. It feels very dumbed down.

Wednesday the TV show is not meant to be for that young of an audience.

I think if Gough and Millar had written the novelization, it would be much different not only in style but accuracy.

At bottom, Meija is an outsider to this fandom and did not do a good job.

[why-do-we-do-this]

shitting sobbing throwing up qCellbits voice is constantly so strained and harsh with such a thick undercurrent of anger and tension and he was arguing with Bad about hurting people and doing whatever it takes but the second Bad implied that Cellbit could end up hurting someone he cares about his voice softens so much as he says “I’d never hurt who I love” chewing at the bars scratching at the floor climbing the walls “I’d kill for you but never you” CAN ANYONE HEAR ME ccCellbit is doing such a good job showing that this is! the! same! character! He has the same motivation, the same values, he loves his family just as much, maybe even more at this point, and wants to protect them still! It’s just that this time instead of sacrificing only himself he’s also sacrificing several other people as well and his decisions are driving the nails deeper and deeper into his coffin because as an unreliable narrator, Cell thinks that he’s being so smart and planning ahead with a big plan and goal and he’s probably thinking that his piece in this game with the feds is expendable the same way it was in hg with Bad. He wants to throw himself in headfirst and take out as many enemies as possible so that they can just get to that incomprehensible point of “winning” but this isn’t a situation that works like that, and Cellbit has a family now, he’s got ties that are effected by his actions in a way that he hasn’t factored in yet, and he isn’t willing to hear out Bad who was trying to warn him about this very important difference from past times! At the end of the conversation he mumbles that he was “getting a bit nostalgic” and that is exactly it, he’s only thinking of those past times, the strategies that never failed him then, but then he can’t or won’t understand that these connections have changed the game. He knows that he’s capable of love now, hell he got sidetracked for half a year because he fell so in love with his husband, so no matter how much he’s trying to pretend that he’s an emotionless methodical killer, he can’t ever leave those ties behind like he was once able to and it’s going to hurt someone eventually. Whether that’s Cellbit himself, or someone he cares for.

[wombywoo]

Basics :

5. (been wondering about this 👀)

Movements :

10. idle stance?

11. how do they move in public?

12. what are their common gestures or physical tics?

15. are they coordinated?

16. how flexible are they?

(is this too much? I apologize 😞)

thank youuu <3 don't worry, it's not too much 😘

5. what is their voice like?

Quinn's voice is suuuuper raspy. In fact, it's quite weak most of the time and he often sounds like he struggles to catch his breath (product of throat injury 💀) It can get pretty dry and harsh, while not overly deep, and sometimes he loses it altogether if he's sick or has been speaking at length. His regional accent comes through a lot, even when he'd prefer it didn't. Lots of elongated vowels, dropping H's. In certain professional settings, he tries to speak with more of a received pronunciation, but he thinks it makes him sound like a posh twat (derogatory). He's got a quiet voice, and it's rare that he ever raises it to a shout.

Vincent has a smooth, deep voice, strong and well-spoken. It's very pleasant to hear him speak, and people have often remarked he should narrate audiobooks, lol. He's retained some of his old-fashioned upbringing with certain pronunciation and vocabulary. There's an essence of London while not straying into Cockney territory. Due to growing up with his mother, he does have a small hint of a Jamaican accent at times; a slight lyrical lilt that he accentuates only when he's feeling comfortable and happy. By Quinn's standards though, he still sounds like a posh twat (affectionate) <3

10 has already been answered~

11. how do they move in public?

I've mentioned that Quinn keeps himself guarded most of the time. In public, he tends to stay on the outskirts, never one to draw attention to himself. If he's walking through a crowd, he'll try to appear smaller, quickly making his way while trying to avoid contact with anyone.

Vincent carries himself quite proudly, and while in a public setting will try to remain casual and respectful. He's not a bit fan of crowds, but he's got a knack for reading the responses of others, so he's very good at knowing when to accommodate someone, step to the side, offer a smile, etc.

12. what are their common gestures or physical tics?

Quinn tends to furrow his brow a lot, even if he's not actively angry. He bites his lip when he's thinking, as well as scratching at his jaw and hair. When he's talking and trying to remember something, he'll do that snappy finger gesture with his hands. If he needs to address someone, he'll often tilt his head to signify he wants to talk. For tics, he fiddles with his ears or fingers. When feeling anxious, he'll unconsciously start clawing his nails into his thighs (I do this).

Vincent is pretty expressive with his gestures, moving his hands and arms around while he's speaking to emphasize a point. He moves around the room a lot too, especially if he's arguing. There are some subtle expressions in his face that he can't hide, a raise of his brows or roll of his eyes. If he's nervous, he might start clenching his jaw, making his cheekbones even sharper. If bored, he tends to roll the tip of his tongue back and forth over one of his fangs.

15. are they coordinated?

Quinn--not so much. In a casual setting, he's a bit of a clutz and is prone to banging his hip/leg/arm onto objects in his vicinity. When on active duty, he's definitely more focused on being coordinated, but can still fumble on occasion and "forget" to practice safety measures.

Vincent's quite coordinated, no complaints there. His vampire abilities ensure he's fairly stacked in all physical areas, so he can perform complex maneuvers with ease.

16. how flexible are they?

They're both preeeetty flexible 😏

Quinn's got a decent amount of agility and bendy-ness, lol. Vincent also possesses unnatural amounts of flexibility, so yeah...they appreciate that aspect 🤭

[luxury-nightmare]

mom says it’s my turn on the writing

tw for mentions of abuse. Nothing to graphic because I cannot write well enough to write something like that with the tact required but it’s there. I would’ve removed it but the video where I get most of my info from described Jack Walker as an “abused toy store owner” and this is what I picture

I do not condone any of the of the actions mentioned in the section and I will take this fic down if it triggers anybody. Jack is an unreliable narrator in this section and I do not believe his thought process

Section starts at “Away from her” and ends at “He moved into the office down the hall.”

Hiding a velidgun from the asylum was way easier than it should have been.

He had been sneaking Klaus into the asylum to keep an eye on him. The velidgun was young, in both lives he had lived, and believe it or not, it’s kinda hard to hire a babysitter for a pink mouse demon that feeds on your sanity.

He knew this was a stupid idea, but the asylum would get suspicious if he took too many days off, and telling Klaus to use his illusions to hide himself whenever anyone walked in was surprisingly effective. He had been trying to keep himself busy as he worked, but Klaus asked a lot of questions.

“Hey Mort?” He asked. Mortimer looked up from his desk and at the young velidgun “yes Klaus?” He said. Klaus leaned against Mortimer’s chair “why do you work here?”

Mortimer put his pencil down. “It pays well, why?” Klaus fidgeted with the pen he was holding “do you, want to work here?” He asked, disgust in his voice. Mortimer rolled his eyes “Absolutely not” he snarled.

“Then why are you here?” Klaus replied bluntly. Mortimer paused, stewing over his thoughts. “I have to, who else would hire, y’know” he gestured to his body. It had been a particularly bad day for his symptoms. The stripes were fully defined now, and his face was completely obscured by inky shadows, two yellow eyes peaking out of the blackness.

“So?” Klaus shrugged, standing up and looking at Mortimer with confusion “can’t you just use your illusions to look human like Auncle Alex does?”

“They haven’t kicked in yet.” Mortimer said.

He still didn’t know why Alex was still making themself look human. They knew what they were, what they were becoming, and they all accepted it. Why would they need to deny it?

Maybe they still hadn’t accepted it themself.

Klaus’s crestfallen face struck at something in Mortimer’s heart. “I never wanted to be here,” he started before he could stop himself “I had a show I wanted to make, got the degrees and learned how to animate. Drew for it a lot too. But it takes a lot of money to start up a show that maybe won’t make it back. I needed a steady job so I could start it up eventually, but now I’m stuck here,”

A hit of malice snuck out of his voice as he spoke those last few words. He shook himself out of it, “it’s not all bad though, I guess.” He finished, then turned to look at Klaus, who looked almost lost in thought.

“Alex said something about a ‘candy mouse’ when I was first created, that was your show wasn’t it” Mortimer blinked a couple times. He had hit the nail right on the head. “Yeah” he said, putting his hand on Klaus’s head

“You look just like him”

————————————————

Needless to say Klaus was bored.

Mortimer said that he needed quiet to work, and Klaus could understand. He didn’t like loud noises very much either.

But what Mortimer didn’t tell him was that his work hours were so long.

The hunger was back

He had been looking through some of the older papers in the back of the office, some older concept art for Candy Mouse that Mort was to sentimental to throw away. Klaus was drawn to them as well. These are technically where he was created, he shared a face with Mort’s favorite character after all.

Some drafts of older character were stored back here, and Klaus got a good look at them. An odd fusion of a snake and a bat dressed as a news reporter, a demon-like character with twisted horns, and in the very back, a green rabbit character.

Klaus quickly became fascinated with this particular draft, digging through the papers and cardboard boxes to find more drawings. He bumped into a particular box with a bit to much force, leaving a dark stain on the cardboard.

“Klaus?” He heard Mortimer’s voice from the desk. He barely noticed until the animator was right behind him. Mortimer had a pension for appearing unnoticed. Klaus jumped and knocked the box with the stain over, spilling drawings all over the floor. “Oh, careful there” Mortimer turned to clean up the mess “I was just coming over to tell you it’s time to go.” He moved the drawings into a pile, then turned to put them back in the box.

He paused, looking at the box, then back at Klaus. “Did it look, like that when you saw it?” Klaus turned back to the box.

A box now completely covered in deep, black ink.

The two watched in confusion as the ink dripped off the cardboard , revealing green patterns that resembled a Jack-in-the box.

“Honestly, I’m too tired to be worried about that right now” Mortimer sighed. Klaus was still confused, but moved closer to Mortimer “come on, let’s go home”

————————————————

Jack had been here since the Halloween incident. He had been offered a janitorial position in the asylum, and with Grimso’s not doing so well after the break-in, he had taken it. The shifts were long, but any excuse he had not to be at home, he would take.

Away from her.

He shudders. Dear lord he needed to man up. A couple mean words wouldn’t kill him.

His check still burned from the times she had slapped him

He moved into the office down the hall. This one belonged that animator guys he believed, Mortimer Gray. He was not looking forward to this.

He opened the door and sure enough, the place looked like a tornado had run through it. Papers and pencils were strewn across every surface. He sighed, and grabbed his broom. This was going to be a long night.

As he turned the corner though, something caught his eye. A box. He turned to get a better look at the thing, accidentally dropping his broom as if in a trace. The thing remained him of an old school Jack-in-the-box, with elaborate designs and twisting green patterns covering every surface. It almost gave him a headache to look at.

Why would an animator need this? Better yet, why would the asylum even give it to him? Was it a personal belonging? He had found weirder stuff in here before.

He couldn’t help himself, he opened the lid and looked inside.

He was greeted with a darkness so intense he swore the world look brighter when he finally managed to tear his eyes off the thing. He stepped back. Something was wrong about this thing, and he wasn’t about to find out what. He grabbed his broom and moved out of the office, planning to just come back later.

Then something grabbed his ankle.

He looked back in horror to see a goopy black tendril emerging from the box. He tried to run, but the thing dragged him towards the box’s open maw no matter how hard he squirmed. He tried to bat it off with his broom the no avail.

The box’s open lid looked more and more like a predators jaws as he was dragged closer to it. He watched in horror as his foot was dragged into the darkness.

And suddenly, the darkness was looking back with yellow eyes.

His screams blended in with the patients.

————————————————

Mortimer walked into his office, tired from the night before. Alex had volunteered to look after Klaus, and he just needed to work.

So when he found a new velidgun lounging on his desk, emerging from the box from last night like a Jack-in-the-box from hell, he was both shocked, confused, and incredibly frustrated.

Dear Six Lord he had made another one.

[cannibalovers]

yo another will analysis song (cuz i'm crazy over him and my music taste fits his situation the most i think)

Hannibal song of the day: song no.3

a bit about the song (and album) :

"Underneath it all"(released in 1999) is a song by Nine Inch Nails (my fav band ever i swear i can talk about them for hours sorry). It was written by the frontman of the group, Trent Reznor. It's a part of "The Fragile" album, a quite important album for Reznor's career. "The Fragile" (banger) is a concept album, based on a man known as "mr. self destruct" and is a sequel to "The Downward Spiral"(another banger), dealing with personal issues, including depression, angst, and drug abuse - attempting to find order in chaos and find their way out, but ultimately, failing. "Underneath it all" fits the industrial rock and alternative rock genre, including scratchy synthesisers and distorted guitars and harsh beats, combined with soft vocals that build up to be louder and harsher. The instrumental build up on itself, looping and stuttering. The song talks about trying to move on from a hurtful situation but feeling "stained", the pain and trauma and it's effects it had on the man not going away, no matter what extremes he takes.

I could honestly talk about The Fragile for hours just on its own, it's so vulnurable and angry and it's history makes me so fucking sad, considering how much shit Trent was going through(substance abuse, depression, anxiety, death of his grandma who raised him), but this is a hannibal centered post so. I think the song can fit Will pretty well considering his mindset and feelings by the end of season 1 + prison, not much today cuz its so straight forward

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

chorus + verse since it's quite short and repetitive

"All I do, I can still feel you (x5)

Numb all through, I can still feel you

Hear your call, underneath it all

Kill my brain, yet you still remain

Crucified, after all I've died

After all I've tried, you are still inside

All I do, I can still feel you(x4)"

the narrator feels plagued, stained, he can't get rid of whatever he is trying to get rid of. The impact the subject had on him was so big that the memories of it and erasure just feels impossible, he feels hopeless, numb. When taking in the themes of the album into account, it's most likely about drugs - trying to recover, but the symptoms of withdrawal just being too intense, feeling like the addiction is punishing and mocking him for ever choosing drugs or even thinking that he can escape them - or it can even be about God. Trent explored the theme of religion in many songs like Heresy or Terrible Lie, blaming God for everything that is happening to him and for causing suffering, yet still coming back, never forgetting him, switching between heretic and devotional tendencies back and forth. He's just so rooted into his mind that it's impossible to not come back, no matter how much he tries to change his faith, maybe even feeling judged and punished by God for his choices.

Whichever one it is, Mr. Self destruct feels hopeless, as his oppressor has become so powerful that it has become a part of his mind, starting to haunt him and latch onto them, almost like a leech. He has tried everything, kill his brain (end it all) or even crucifying (most likely referring to trying to repent for his sins or give up his unhealthy lifestyle and mindset, crucifying them) and yet the little voice in his head still remains present, taunting him.

That's what Will seems to feel like, like Hannibal plagued him with a disease of his own, making Will lose his own mind, identity and sanity in the process - he is becoming him and he can't get rid of him or stop it. Will admits in the series that he keeps hearing Lecter in his head, his head voice sounding like his and even started to think like him, not to mention the various visions where Will grows antlers just like wendigo, as well as once and for all, Will got reborn as wendigo, finalising his transformation. Hannibal has officially stained him and made him what he wanted Will to be.

The way the song builds up, the layers becoming noiser and gritter as well as the vocals louder and more desperate just ties the overwhelming feeling together.

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

Outro

"All I do, I can still feel you(x2)

(You remain, I am stained)"

the song suddenly drops, stuttering instead, becoming weaker and weaker, which to me represents giving up. The narrator gives up and accepts the fact that the oppressor remains and that he will forever be changed and affected by what has been done to him.

In the show, Will didn't exactly want to accept that, but I guess through his method of manipulating Hannibal back, he has just reinforced Hannibal's effects on him, making Will become Hannibal, he has been stained and can't do anything about it - although he seems to accept his faith and even lets him remain in his life (literally came back for him like damn...tiny bit gay if u ask me).

additional notes :

i couldn't recommend to listen to the fragile more, if you enjoy harsh noises, electronic, rock and industrial sounds and ambience sound, lots of layers and build ups and instrumental and absolute emotional damage then i recommend. this album is so dear to me its insane

my playlist

hope u enjoyed <3

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Panaceum deleted scene

A yo, I promised to post the part I cut out during the editing because it was bad for the narration flow. Essentially, at first instead of having the whole conversation with Angel via text, Valentino invited him to the studio, just to exercise his control and waste Angel's time. It would be in character. But storytelling wise it was an unnecessary complication that didn't do any favor to pacing.

So, yeah, I would say "enjoy" but it's just Valentino being a terrible person so I just say: tw // abuse

Valentino sneaks out of Vox’s apartment and heads to his office. Though the office might be a misleading label. This is the place of pleasure and power, not paperwork. Plush, velvet-upholstered sofas beckon invitingly, their curves accentuated by the soft glow of dimmed, amber lighting. A mirrored wall stretches from floor to ceiling, reflecting the room's decadent ambiance and adding an illusion of endless space. Against one wall stands a well-stocked bar, gleaming with crystal decanters and polished glassware. The rich aroma of aged whiskey and exotic liqueurs fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of incense and musky cologne. In the center of the room, a small pole dance platform awaits – an invitation for potential new stars, and a promise to Valentino’s guests.

As he waits for Angel Dust, Valentino puts on some music – one of his own albums – and methodically removes all the VoxTek cameras from the ceiling, one by one.

Their absence is the first thing Angel notices upon his arrival. Stepping through the door, he quickly surveys the room, likely gauging the level of danger he’s in, and immediately questions:

“No show today?” His tone carries a hint of challenge, but Valentino detects the undercurrent of curiosity in his voice. Understandably so – everyone in Vees' inner circle knows that Valentino is always under the watchful eyes of VoxTek cameras and has never expressed dissatisfaction with it. He’s a performer after all, always more than willing to put on a show for his biggest fan.

Valentino arches an eyebrow, his gaze piercing and judgmental as he ignites his cigarette. "Nothing worth watching. Jesus, look how fat you got. Giving up coke doesn't serve you well, Angel Cakes," he comments with a cruel smile, the smoke swirling around him.

"What do you want, Val?" Angel responds, his tone steady despite the tension radiating from his body. He holds Valentino's gaze, unwilling to yield an inch. Yet, beneath his facade of confidence he visibly struggles against an invisible force, as if he's constantly battling against the weight of Valentino's influence. He tries to convince himself that he feels nothing, but it's just pointless. Valentino has woven himself into every fiber of Angel's being, leaving an indelible mark of his control.

“Sit down.” Commands Valentino instead of answering and Angel immediately sinks into the big, comfortable chair, almost pushed into it with the contract's bonding force. Valentino gestures toward the large, golden bowl brimming with cocaine. "Treat yourself."

Angel must be fucking crazy if he thinks that he can play tough with his owner.

"I'll pass," he retorts almost mechanically, though his lack of conviction is palpable. Despite Angel's efforts to project self-control, Valentino notices the way he clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm. The scent of his discomfort and craving hangs heavy in the air and Valentino savors it, inhaling deeply. That’s the best part of playing with addicts - no matter how good they are at the game, they possess one glaring weakness that can be exploited to devastating effect. It's this knowledge that crowns the man who deals in addictions as the true king of the city.

"You know I don't like to be denied," purrs Val, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around Angel's face like a sinister caress. "Maybe I should just..." With a swift motion, he reaches out and grasps a fistful of Angel's hair. Hard. "Put your ugly face into it?"

Angel doesn't even flinch. His breath trembles slightly, but there's a calmness about him that unsettles Valentino. Could he be on sedatives? It’s not possible his Angel has become so numb and boring.

"Wouldn't be a very constructive talk then, would it?" Angel suggests, prompting a cheerful yet deeply infuriated laugh from Valentino. Laughing it off is the only way he can prevent himself from succumbing to the urge to lash out and check how many hits to the table Angel’s head needs before it cracks open. It's maddening when his toys fail to perform as expected.

"Look at you, you grew some balls," Valentino remarks, releasing Angel's hair and ruffling it affectionately. "But you are right. I need you to arrange a meeting with the Radio Demon."

Angel frowns, adjusting his suit with a hint of theatrical irritation.

“Can't you like, do it yourself?” he asks and he fucking dares to be annoyed with Valentino’s demand.

“Oh what do you think I should do? Call his hell phone? Message him on sinstagram? Visit in person?” Velntino snarks, rolling his eyes. “You stupid bitch.”

Angel simply nods, acknowledging Valentino's response, and takes a moment to consider his own options. "Yeah, I can ask him," he concedes, probably realizing he has little to lose by doing Val this favor and perhaps even less to gain by refusing. "But you know how he is. Can't really force him to do anything."

"No need to force, though I'd like to see you trying," Valentino huffs, exhaling another cloud of red smoke that envelops Angel's body like a possessive embrace. "Just tell him I want to make a deal," he adds, noting the surprise in Angel's widened eyes as they once again dart towards the broken cameras.

"Me. No one else," Valentino clarifies before Angel can voice his unspoken question. It's amusing how his pet always skirts around mentioning Vox's name, as if uttering it could summon him, despite the fact that Vox's invisible presence has long been intertwined with their relationship. Or perhaps because of it.

"But if I do it, you can't tell him I had anything to do with it," Angel asserts, a hint of fear finally creeping into his voice.

“Fuck, I really was too soft on you if you are seriously more afraid of Vox than me,” Valentino scoffs, shaking his head. But honestly, understands. He has never been able to bring himself to finish Angel's miserable existence - both, out of sentiment and cruelty. Vox however, jealous of Valentino's attention just waits for the right moment when Val gets bored with his doll and he will be finally permitted to dismember it and burn what remains. He explicitly told Angel once, because that much Valentino allowed him. Vox is always so entreating when he lets his sadism to shine through the perfect mask.

"You know that if he learns that I helped you betray him—" Angel begins, anxiously nibbling on his sleeve, but before he can finish, Valentino smacks the table with such force that it cracks under his palm.

"I'm not a sellout bitch like you," Valentino growls, baring his teeth, like he was ready to rip Angel’s neck.

"Okay. Okay. I..." Angel takes a deep breath, desperately searching for the right words to defuse the escalating tension. He realizes a few seconds too late how badly he fucked up. It's enough to instill genuine fear of what he might have triggered. “Misinterpreted the situation.”

"Like hell," Valentino hisses, fixing him with a murderous glare. "Now fuck off before I make this meeting about you."

Angel doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles off the armchair, finally released from Valentino's earlier command, and hastens out of the room. As the door closes behind him, Valentino sinks back onto the couch, lighting another cigarette in an attempt to quell his emotions. He knows he just needs to see this through to the end, and then Vox will be the one left worrying about plans and consequences. Oh, Vox. Vox would undoubtedly be ecstatic if Valentino got rid of Angel. Perhaps it would be the definitive proof to the Media Overlord that Valentino's heart belongs solely to him, finally securing Vox's confidence in their relationship. Though he definitely would be disappointed that he didn’t have a chance to turn the last hours of Angel’s life into some fucked up snuff movie. But one can’t have everything.

Valentino finishes his cigarette and decides to get to work. He must keep himself busy waiting for Alastor’s answer, and cameras must roll if he doesn’t want to listen to Vox whining when he will finally check the books again.

[mrfartpowered]

Do you have any Heidi headcanons ...

HIIII SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!! as an apology I have written approximately two hundred headcanons for her :3 I’ve never given her much thought before this, so thanks for the excuse to finally do that hehe !!

I don’t think Heidi has any desire to be a mom, regardless of what timeline. She’s too busy girlbossing (and also she’s way better at being an aunt than a mother, it’s more fun for her that way). This is my first headcanon bc it’s a defining characteristic of her in my post-canon timeline LOL

She is a certified gamer girl. Just an absolute beast. She still speaks, yknow, Like Heidi, and this does earn her some nasty comments in games w voice chat (like COD). But then she slaughters everyone in 10 seconds flat so it’s okay <3 if u haven’t seen @cunningweiner’s markiplier!heidi art WHAT are u even doing

Sushi lover. I have zero evidence for this it just feels right

I’m a junior!Heidi truther but everybody is shocked when they find out. They can’t believe she isn’t a senior yet

SO eager to get her driver’s license but objectively a bad driver. She’s honestly too eager. It’s terrifying to be in the passenger seat while she’s at the wheel (stolen from @maslosstuff hehe)

A decent C- or B-grade student. I wouldn’t call her stupid but academia isn’t exactly her Thing. People skills OFF THE CHARTS, but when it comes to book smarts i might go so far as to call her ditzy

Hot take (maybe??) but I don’t think she has a ton of friends. Popular, yes! But in the sense the student body knows Heidi Weinerman by face and name. Like a small-time celebrity… Honestly there’s a possibility that she throws herself so deep into the work of her show/her fame that she forgets to make time for relationships (platonic & romantic). She’s only a teen! :(

She IS a lesbian I will not be considering other options at this time

Vocal stimmer 5ever 🫶 mostly singing under her breath, I think :) but also narrating to herself. It’s the vlogger effect :/

Has a secret Reddit account that she uses to blow off steam. She’ll just go and argue w people on subjects she is extremely well-versed in. What I’m getting at here is that, though her temper is not quite as bad as Howard’s, it’s worse than Mort’s for SURE. She’s the middle ground

(stolen from The Trans Bro Code, one of my fave fics in this fandom) Regardless of how u perceive Howardgender, he and Heidi had sleepovers when they were younger. They’d do each other’s hair and nails and makeup, and maybe even dress up, and gossip back and forth. They still do it as teens, but less as a tradition and more as a major form of sibling support. Some douche broke Heidi’s heart? Howard’s doing her nails w cute little designs on each finger. Howard got into a bad fight w their mom? Heidi is giving him a full glam face of makeup.

On the subject of her relationship w Howard (oh, you thought u could go a whole post of mine with just one Howard mention?) — they’re not friends, not by a long shot, BUT on some level they respect one another. I like to think Heidi admires Howard’s ability to not care what ppl think of him. She will never admit this, of course, and she shudders at the thought of being associated w him in public. But, yk, fair is fair because Howard thinks she’s kind of a freak. He does, however, respect her commitment and crowd skills

Their gossip goes CRAZYYY like ofc they had fun conversations as kids, but as teens? They trade dirt abt Norrisvillians back and forth trying to see who has the craziest insider knowledge. It’s awesome and terrifying to witness

In any timeline where she is not the in-universe equivalent of Markiplier, she has a Master’s in Public Relations and probably owns her own PR firm

[anonymousangstmonster]

Fantasies

Summary:

Danny and Maddie have a casual conversation about what it would be like if he were on her lab table.

It had been a month since Danny told his parents that he was Phantom.

Maddie was terrible at hiding her desires.

The reveal didn’t make her curiosity go away, if anything it was strengthened. He was a hybrid! An impossible mix between life and death! The perfect specimen living under her own roof!

Danny could tell from the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking; her gaze was hungry, longing, wondering. She still wanted to see inside of him, still wanted to tear him apart, still wanted to rip him open and see what made him tick.

She still had her fantasies, even if she could never live them out.

He had taken away the chance for her to do that guiltlessly, and for that he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty himself.

The two were sitting on the couch watching a movie, Danny laid on his side with his head in his mother’s lap.

Soon the movie was over and there was a comfortable silence, neither said a thing until Danny turned his head to face Maddie.

“Hey mom?” He asked quietly.

“Yes sweetie?” She responded with the same volume.

“I know you still want to dissect me.” He said without hesitation or a change of facial expression.

Maddie’s face reddened. “I-I… what, no- why would I still- of course not!” She stammered.

“I can see it on your face, that scientific curiosity of yours. It’s ok, it’s not wrong to dream is it?”

“Danny I… I would never and will never do anything like that to you, I promise, I love you.”

“You know you could just tell me what you’d do if you did do that.” If she couldn’t actually do it, maybe she’d enjoy narrating what she would do.

“Danny, I don’t think… you don’t have to…” he could see she was already starting to break and wanting to give in to the idea.

“It’s good to talk about what you’re feeling, right? And it’s ok, I won’t tell anyone.” He pressed.

She sighed, dropping back down to the volume the conversation started in. “Are you sure you’re alright with hearing it?” Her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He assured.

“Alright, well… I guess I’d strap you down to the table with the ecto-energy-blockers. Also, it’d be vivisection dear, not dissection.” Her voice changed to something similar to that of a mother reading her child a story book before bedtime, gentle and soft and loving, even though the words were anything but. “They’d be on your wrists, ankles, thighs, upper arms and neck.”

Her fingers lightly graced his throat, sending a shiver down his spine. He momentarily considered bailing out, telling her he absolutely did not want to hear exactly what she wanted to do to him, but he thought better of it.

Forcing a smirk onto his face he said, “What? No gag or anything?”

She smiled down at him. “The lab is completely soundproof.” Oh. She wanted to hear him scream. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

She turned him over from his side onto his back. “The first incision would be from one end of your collarbone to the other.” She said as she traced a finger across his upper chest. He could easily picture a scalpel instead of a finger, his bare skin instead of the fabric of his sweatshirt, the harsh lighting of the lab instead of the soft dim lights of the living room.

He sucked in a breath and she softly chuckled, whether it was because she noticed his reaction or she was just enjoying herself with this fantasy, he couldn’t tell, but it was scary either way.

She continued on with her narrative. “The second one would be over your hips.” Tracing her finger from where you could feel one side of his hips to the other. He could almost feel her sharp nail trying to pierce his skin, the sensation making him almost arch his back above the couch.

Her eyes were glued to his torso, her body almost shaking with excitement, she was lost in the story.

“And the final one would cut straight down the middle of your body, starting from the first slice and ending at the bottom one.” She whipped her finger along his body hard and quick, he let out a tiny whimper.

“Both flaps would be pulled to the side and pinned, so next all that’s in the way of your organs is your ribcage.” She tapped on his ribs. “I’d expect them to be black instead of white considering what happened to your hair and suit, also the rare occasion when someone gets a photo of when you were that injured.

“I’d have to use a bonesaw to get through them, in that case I’d cut right along here.” She used both hands to show the saw’s path across his shuttering chest.

“I’d be able to pull the top of your ribcage right out,” She gestured yanking out his ribs with her arms. “leaving your lungs, heart, and hopefully core completely exposed. Imagine me having unobstructed access to your core.” She rested a hand on the middle of his chest, right over where his core sat.

“I’d stroke it with my bare hand if it wouldn’t immediately give me frostbite, since you’re an ice core.” She said longingly. She was mere inches away from what she wanted, yet could never have it.

“The very essence of your being in the palm of my hand.” She whispered.

Danny attempted speaking a few words through his internal panic. “If you just wanted to see my core you wouldn’t have bothered opening up such a large space.” His voice was shaky and his words unsure.

She seemed to have snapped out of obsessing over his core and continued on with her story. “Right, so I’d measure and weigh each of your organs, starting with your spleen and kidneys,” She pointed to each respective location inside his body. “and working up to your stomach and heart.” She graced his side with her hand. “I’d have to measure your lungs at the climax of both inhaling and exhaling, so you’d have to hold your breath for me.” She looked toward his face.

He let out an empty laugh. “Not sure I’d even be able to listen to you it’d hurt so bad.”

She smirked at him. “I have my ways.” He gulped.

“I’d have to get scans and readings on your core. The first time we measured your power level you were a level five, the last time we measured you, you were a level seven, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a level eight or nine this time around.

“We estimated that Pariah was a level nine, and you beat him.” She remembered.

“Yeah, just barely though, and that was with help and the ecto-skeleton you and dad made.” His voice was still a little raspy.

“Anyway, I’ll have the computer draw power maps, I can’t wait to see how your core handles distributing energy around your human body, and what happens when I cut off that energy for a short period of time.” She said with a sadistic grin on her face.

He caught her change from ‘would’ to ‘will’, but didn’t think to speak anything of it, he was terrified of her at that moment.

“When I’m done exploring your torso,” She continued, “I’ll move on to your throat.” She said gripping his neck.

“I’ll start with two incisions on either side of your neck, here and here.” She dragged her nail along both sides of his neck, just in front of his major artery. “Then a slice right along where your jaw meets your neck. Then I just pull the flap down and pin it to see the inside of your throat. Your vocal cords will probably be sore from screaming and sobbing.” She said with no hint of remorse.

“I wonder where your wail comes from, does it manifest in your core then you let it out? Or is it just a scream amplified by your ghostly vocal cords?” She thought aloud.

“Sam’s said it’s my dying screams.” He admitted.

“Really?” He nodded. “Well that would explain way it’s your most powerful ability, it’s the most prominent in your memory.

“After I finish inspecting your vocal cords, both human and ghostly, I’ll start with your eyes.” She said so nonchalantly he almost had to do a double take.

“M-my eyes?” He said as she placed her hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing his eyelashes.

“Mhm, the eyes of a ghost are able to pick up light even when you’re invisible; when a person is overshadowed, the eye color is about your only reliable tell other than how they act; your eyes didn’t invert color like the rest of you did when you half-died, they just turned green.

“I’ll have to keep your eye open with a clamp so I can extract it without interference. Then I can dissect it.” Her finger was less than an eighth of an inch away from his eyeball.

She pulled away, pushed Danny out of her lap and stood up, glancing at the clock.

“Alright, I think it’s time to go to bed now, don’t you think?”

He nodded, still a little dazed from the sudden movement.

“Come on, let’s head upstairs.” They walked up the stairs together to Danny’s room.

Maddie held up her hand to hold the face of her child. “Thank you Danny, for listening. I really appreciate it.” She pulled him close to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Of course mom, if you need to talk I’m here to listen.” He said with a forced smile as he got under the covers of his bed.

“I love you Danny.”

“Love you too mom, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He may not be able to let her live out her fantasies, but this’ll have to do.