#if you steal my OC I will steal your ankles.

[fizzysfaz]

My fursona named nox :3

[thegnomelord]

Shark

- 🦈

(Brainrot time! Blame dougielovelove for their new work. Had a bit of a bad day and i usually dont write spicy things

This one can be set in monster au. Readers a captain of a whole different task force meant for oceanic endevours. Im talkin the readers a shark hybird (biased) their lieutenant a whale hybird, sergent an orca or a pufferfish, their newest recurits a fuckin salmon, the works.

They're close knit, heck even poly if you want. Price and the Reader meet through connections with Laswell. They find out they hav the same target, price is stubborn and wont drop the mission, despite how most of his team is not suited for water.

Reader respects it and they work really well together. A bit too well, even to the point theyre considering merging the teams.

Completely honest, Price is starting to fall for their fellow captain. I mean how can you not, they've swooped in and saved them countless times, preventing the oceans waters from completely swallowing them in the dark abyss.

Not to mention his sergents and lieutenant are just the cutest, so eager to do well and work together with his own. Just protective instincts, hit him to the point hes pickin everyone up and scentin them. They're his hoard now.

Reader and Price are settleing paper work in his office. Readers busy writing down important information and signing off reports, but price cant help but stare. How swift his hands move as each words is made and written, how tight his claws grip the pen with every small minisucle flick of the pen.

He hiccups a small flame when their fellow captain decided to extravagantly spin his pen when he trys to recall the missing info. How smooth it moves between his blackened fingers, swirling and turning flipping all between nimble and flexible rough- and hes hard.

Reader realizes Price is distracted, before he can call out their name, he glances down just to see whats got him so wrapped up in his mind.

Now all i can think about is Reader forcing Price to focus and finish his paperwork while hes got both his assets shoved up his ass. Price is just a mess, making his paperwork a completely unusable. Yet, the reader still wants him to finish, becuase if he dosent Price definitely wont.

Or they decide to have some fun, release the pent up desire the poor dragons been keeping buried. A soilder be it 141 or be from the readers own team, walks in. Can't help but love how the stoic draconic captain looks so small and pathetic under his co-leader. Joining in on the fun just to see how wrecked this great leader can get.)

Okay, this is cool and my horny is up but I made a few changes as I like characters to be more mythological and just animal hybrids, though those are cool too

CW:NSFW, quick and rough, subbot Price, Gaz, Oc sergeant, domtop reader

Price loves you. But you are one cruel bastard.

Those big rough hands of yours trace his taught belly, webbed fingers making a shiver crawl up his spine and stealing what little thoughts are left in his head as one of your hands trails down the smooth scales of his tail. "Come on dear captain, just a few more pages to go." You purr, chest rumbling against his back like the thrum of an engine, your lips tickling his pointy earlobe.

Price swears he's going to die; pants around his ankles and legs spread, stretched so wide on both of your shafts he can feel your heartbeat by the way your cocks twitch against his walls, each labored breath making his hole clench down desperately, his own hard cocks left hard and unattended.

It would be one thing if you claimed him like he wants you to, pushed him flat on the desk and fucked into him like he's nothing but a bitch to pump full of your cum.

But you don't. You just sitting inside him, hard and throbbing and still despite how much he tries to tempt you by clenching down. Price finds himself cursing the amount of patience you have.

"Sweetheart," He groans, voice too light and whiny for his own ears, head thrown back to give you a heatless glare. "C'mon, don't tease me." Price tries to grind his hips down but you hold him firm.

"Not until you finish those reports." You grunt, authoritative, and Price is stuck between wanting to bite you in revenge and trying to stifle a pathetic whine. "Go on, you only have a few pages left."

Those damn reports. Price can barely read his own handwriting, a light tremor in his fingers from the way your cocks press against his prostate. "Cruel bastard." He growls, sucking in a breath and clenching around you.

His chest flares with pride the second your claws dig into his body, not even your mind able to hold back the animalistic need to buck into the tight willing heat surrounding you. But it's a double edged sword — a hiccup of flame sparks from his mouth, your cockheads bumping his prostate and making a bead of precum spurt from his cocks.

"As if you're any better." You growl in his ear, your hair tickling his skin as you roughly nip at his though hide, pleasure and pain loosing their borders in his mind.

He doesn't notice the nicking on the door, but Price is ready for hell to swallow up when he finally registers the door open, his blue eyes rising to meet Sullivan — your hippocampus sergeant — who looks just as mortified to walk in on you like that as Price.

Sullivan's dark horse ears flicker back, the iridescent scales along his cheeks turning from ocean green to a vibrant embarrassed pink, "I- is this, this a- I can leave if, if, if- this looks like a-" The poor man stumbles over his words, eyes bouncing between Price's debauched form and your amused face.

It gets worse when Gaz pokes his head in behind Sullivan, "Hey captains are you-" His jaw falls, pupils dilating like he's a crow that just saw a shinny penny. "-oh."

You just chuckle, rough voice putting Sullivan at ease. "At ease boys," You snort, don't even attempt to hide anything, one hand sliding down to stroke his cock, so slick with his precum that his shaft slides through your hand just from you squeezing it. "Need something boys?"

Even from here Price can see the way Sullivan's eyes darken as well at the deep moan that tumbles out of Price's throat and Price has to bite his lip to keep the noises in check.

"I-" Sullivan sucks in a breath, scales slowly turning to the shade of an overcooked lobster. "I. . . I forgot."

"Can we join?" Gaz asks, chuckling at Sullivan's wide-eyed look. "What? As you weren't thinking it." He shrugs and places a kiss on his cheek when Sully nods meekly.

"I don't know." You hum, letting go of Price's cock to tilt his head to you, meeting his eyes. "Do you want your boys to help you keep focused?"

Price swallows, knows that all that awaits him should he accept would be pleasurable torture, but his bones burn with the need to have his hoard close to him, taking care of him for a change. "Yeah," He growls, less whiny and more demanding.

You hum and roll the chair back to create space for the two men beneath the table, "On your knees." You don't miss the way the authority in your voice makes both men shiver.

"You heard him," Gaz grins and pulls Sullivan towards you two by the hand, reminding you more of a puppy than any harpy as he happily gets on his knees.

Your gaze skirts to Sullivan as he tentatively settles on Gaz's right, pitch black eyes hidden behind that fringe you keep telling him to cut. "You alright with this Sully?" You ask, knowing the man's sexual experience is limited to one girlfriend and your team, and even then he's shy about many acts. "You don't need to do something you're unsure about. No one is going to be mad."

"I, yes. I want this." He swallows, looking back at you. "I, uh. . . I got some pointers." He says shily.

Gaz just snickers and throws his arm over Sullivan's shoulder. "I helped," He says proudly, wing spreading out to wrap around Sully's back.

"Rubbing off on my sergeant already huh?" You snort, your attention turning to Price when he growls, capturing his lips in a kiss to placate his demanding draconic side while your hand lets go of his cocks — an open offering to the two sergeants.

"Only in a good way." Gaz grins and leans in, opening his mouth and pink little tongue lolling out to lick at one leaking cock like he knows Price likes, lips wrapping around the tapered head and sucking on it, amusement bubbling in his chest when you hold Price's hips firm so he can't buck up.

Sullivan follows suit, less confident but still willing, holding the other cock in his smooth scalled hand and tentatively giving the crown a kiss, dark eyes watching both of your reactions as he slowly trails kisses around the cumhole, growing bolder with every small whimper until he's gently suckling on the tip like Gaz had done.

"You're doing good Sully," You praise, even your voice is hoarse from the way Price squeezes down on you now that the two sergeants are servicing his cocks. "You too Gaz." You reach down to gently pet his hair so Kyle doesn't feel left out, "Both of you, so good for me and Price."

Price, for his sake, may as well be a mindless animal from the way his brain is steadily melting out of his cocks like a lit candle, moaning low in his throat, his eyes closed to just feel the pleasure that's assaulting him on both ends. He can tell the difference between Gaz's and Sullivan's mouths, the duality of firm swipes of the tongue across his shaft and the kitten licks on his most sensitive parts making his head swim, hips trying uselessly to fuck into the hot mouths and your own cocks.

He whines when you grip his hips firmly. "No," You snort, both arms keeping his hips still so he can do nothing but endure. "You're not getting off until the job's finished."

Price shivers, "Bastard." He growls weakly, his eyesight blurry as he tries to focus on the document.

"Pot, kettle." You grin against his skin, helping guide his arm towards the documents where he left off. "C'mon, it's just a few pages, then your sergeants will be able to reward you fully."

[darkbluekies]

what would ocs do if mc got arrested for speeding after trying to escape

Warnings: threats, handcuffs, chains, humiliation?, manipulation, gaslightning?

Silas:

He’ll have a field day with this one. He won’t even be mad as he walks into the jail, on the contrary — he’ll laugh. With his hands in his pockets, you trapped in front of him and having bailed you out, he can’t do anything but mock you. He’ll get into your cell and run his hand through your hair in a demeaning way. He loves to see you shrink under his touch. 

“My poor little idiot, I think you dropped something when you ran away from me. What, you ask? Your fucking brain. How stupid can one be to get caught by the cops? I’ve bailed you out, now let’s go home, I’ll teach you yet another lesson of what happens when you try to run away from me since the last five didn’t seem to work.”

Dr Kry: 

He’ll be able to convince the police to let him handle you. You’re clearly not well. You don’t need to go to jail, you need to be taken to a medical facility … like his hospital. He loves that you’re trying to tell the police that it’s where you ran away from … it only makes you look more and more insane. As soon as you come back to the hospital, he’ll keep you cuffed to the hospital bed and remove all of his personal stuff from the room.

“Now, now, don’t be sad. I’m not mad, just worried. We both know you weren’t fit to drive a car. You should be happy that you’re under my protection or you’d end up in prison for both speeding and stealing my car. You’re quite the little criminal, aren’t you, my dear? Now I have to keep you chained like this so you won’t repeat it. You could really hurt yourself, you know?”

King Edmund: (there are no cars in his timeline, a horse will do)

When a frantic horse rose through the village, the royal knights captured it quite quickly. When they saw who was on the horse, they nearly fainted. They kept you in a clean room for the king to come get you. He’ll come twenty minutes later in a carriage, holding a chain in his hands. He’s furious, you can tell. 

“What were you thinking stealing my horse and riding away like that?! I had been thinking about taking you for a horse ride in the forest, but now I don’t think that’ll ever happen. It seems like you can’t act right and because of that, I need to chain you. I can’t trust you. Try to move with this heavy chain around your feet and you’ll find that you won’t get so far. How unfortunate … seems like you’ll be spending summer indoors. Come now, my darling. Let’s see you walk with those chains out to the carriage.”

Jerry: 

She’ll be laughing as she bails you out. She’ll laugh all the way back to your home and somehow, it frightens you. She never laughs when you run away … so what’s different this time? It tells you that whatever you’ve done, it’s worse than all the other times you’ve escaped her clutches. As soon as you’re behind closed doors, she collects herself and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

“You’re in such big trouble, baby. I’m honestly impressed that you managed to sneak out and steal my car keys without me noticing, but don’t think it’ll happen again. I’m going to put up cameras and I’ll be able to watch your cute ass as often as I’d like. Hah, try to beat that, you little shit.”

Hedwig:

You’ll be bailed out in no time and have Hedwig’s arms around your waist like a suffocating corset. She’ll shower your face in kisses before pulling you out to a car — not the one you’ve gotten caught in. Her chauffeur will drive the two of you back to her mansion in silence. Hedwig will lead you up to her room and sit you down on the bed. Before you have the time to think, she has placed something around your ankle. 

“What? Oh, that’s a tracker. Honey, please listen, please. I can’t have you running around like that. We’re meant to be together, I know it. I’m just protective over you. What if you would have gotten in a car accident? You could have- … you could have died. So this is just for safety measures. I’ve told all the staff to report to me if you leave my room and they’ll do their best to keep you at home. I honestly don’t know what I would do if the police wouldn’t have caught you. Seems like there’s a benefit of your reckless driving after all …”

[julesthequirky]

Hunted: Chapter Two

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: Drinking with a handsome man at the bar wasn’t all that bad. Until it was. Now, you’re trapped with a man you don’t know, in a place you don’t know, where noone can hear you scream. You’re starting to think that this was his plan all along. He mentions a brother, and you hope and pray that if you make it out, that you don’t meet him.

Warnings: Non-Con (Rape), Explicit Graphic Violence, Super dark fic, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Graphic Description, Non-Consensual Touching, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Forced Non-Consensual Orgasm, Forced Blow Jobs, Kidnapping, Psychological Torture, Physical Torture, Physical Abuse, Manipulation, Asphysxiation, PTSD, Murder, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Serial Killer Sam Winchester.

A/N: Please. For the love of God, if any of the above triggers you. Do NOT read. You are responsible for your own mental health and the wellbeing of yourself.

A/N 2: Each chapter will involve one or more triggers from the above list.

A/N 3: Please note that the warning list is not an exhausted list, and if something turns up not on the list, I will do my best to add it to the warnings.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Female!Reader, OC Nicole.

W/C: 1,386

“C’mon, wakey wakey. Eggs and bakey.”

Coming to consciousness, you groaned, your head throbbing, and the nausea rolled in your stomach. Semiconscious, mouth dry, you swallowed, and it felt like razor blades had lodged their way into your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, gritting your teeth from the pain. You went to lick your lips, mind too sludgy to understand why your lips were stuck together.

You had to pick up some more garbage bags. And you had to text Mom back about that thing that seemed important but could wait. Whatever it was, it had slipped your mind. The urge to pee was forming.

Last night came back to you in vague flashes. A bar. Shots. The handsome stranger. Drinking with him. In his truck – whispers, kisses and sweet touches. And then nothing. Your mind drew a complete blank.

“C’mon, darlin’.” His drawl cut through the brain fog, and your senses came rushing back.

The urge to pee strengthened.

The cold floor seared you right through, chilling your bones. Snapping your eyes open, suddenly aware that something wasn’t quite right. Your muscles screamed to be released, hands tied behind your back, ankles stuck together, essentially hog-tied. All you needed was the damn apple in your mouth. Your skin pulled on the tape covering your mouth. You jerked to your side and gasped, eyes widening.

“There she is.” He crooned, his fingers trailing through your hair, tracing your face like a lover would.

Your pulse raced, heart hammering as your chest heaved, stealing breaths one right after the other.

The stranger from last night smiled, but this time, it made your blood run cold, and the at bay panic rose a little more. He laid his hand on your hyperventilating chest. You whimpered. Tears pricked your eyes, and you desperately blinked them away.

“My, your heart’s going hell for leather.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, dragging breaths in and out. You really needed to pee now. The pressure your bladder produced had your thighs clenching together.

From your side, the world was lopsided. It was dark, with a bulb flickering overhead. Four walls, bare. No windows—

A hand gripped your face, pulling your focus away from your surroundings to him.

“Remember me?”

You nodded.

How could you forget a face like his? Especially those damn green eyes. They were seared into your brain.

The cold cement flooring seeped into your legs, and you shivered.

That caught his attention. He turned from your face to your legs, a smirk working its way across his lips.

“Damn, I remember watching you walk in. You looked so confident. So ready,” he trailed a finger along your thigh. “I remember thinkin’ that will change. Every minute the clock ticked past, I could see you deflating.”

You tried shucking away from his touch. It didn’t work. It had you on your front, flopping like a fish.

His hand clamped around your leg, fingernails digging into the flesh.

“I swooped in, saving your desperate ass. And you fell, hook, line, and sinker. Y’see, Y/N…your date was never gunna show because it was me all along.”

He fished a hand into his back pocket and brought out his phone. It took him only a moment to bring his screen to your attention.

Chad Wells never existed. You realise that now, staring at the man’s profile on his phone screen.

Fuck.

Tears stung the backs of your eyes, and you pressed your forehead to the cold floor. It had been a scam. A ruse to cover up his true motives.

Was he going to kill you?

Probably.

Your bladder pained you, reminding you that your basic needs were being squandered. You bet that he didn’t give a damn whether or not you had to relieve yourself.

At least if you peed yourself after being mauled by a bear, the bear would leave you the Hell alone.

Then, in a quick movement, he ripped the tape from your mouth.

“I need to pee. I need to pee.” You begged.

Your lips felt sticky from the residue on the tape.

He looked behind him to a lone bucket in one corner. Your eyes followed his—he couldn’t be serious? But your bladder ached to be released. You nodded, babbled okay, yes, sure. He stood up and kicked the bucket closer to you. It scraped against the concrete floor, stopping beside you.

“I don’t want no funny business.” He said as he untied your hands but left your ankles alone.

Again, you nodded. He turned around, and you fumbled with the button on your jean skirt. You yanked them down and sat on the bucket, hissing as the cold rim bit your skin. You cringed when the sound of running liquid on a tin can filled the space, but the release on your bladder was relieving.

“God, you piss like a racehorse.”

You curled your body inward, acutely aware of how loud the stream was. Every second felt excruciating as it passed.

“You done?”

Nodding, you finished up, buttoned, and the man wasted no time. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you to the door, feet sliding across the concrete. You screamed, hands flying up to punch and smack at him to get off.

“No! Please! Please, oh, God!”

He flung open the door and dragged you along a corridor. Your screams bounced off the tiles, echoing down the hall.

He shook you like a ragdoll. “Will you shut up!”

You did as he said, whimpering, lip trembling, crying silently, wishing you had never gone out last night.

He stopped by a door. Mud brown. A strange type of star adorned the top quarter of the door, and you managed to catch the number before he turned the brass knob of the door. 21.

A walled grate ran across the room. Two cage doors split the room. One was open, padlock resting unlocked. He shoved you in.

Unable to step forward to catch yourself, you fell, hands slapping the ground, your forehead barely missing the floor. The palms of your hands stung, and your wrists hurt like Hell from taking the pressure of the fall.

Another walled grate split your…cell with another. Peering in the other side, you saw a curtain of dirty, unkempt blonde hair. A small face appeared from behind the hair. And you just knew you’d seen that face before.

The cage slammed shut. The panic rose to your throat. You turned, shuffling yourself to the cage door, fingers gripping between the iron squares. The padlock clicked shut. You looked up at him.

He smiled. Cruel and twisted. He knelt, fingers gripping the metal cage from the other side.

“Look atchu, doll. All caged up, like an animal. Beautiful and scared,” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I bet there’s still hope somewhere tucked inside. Your roommate soon learnt, aint that right, Nicole?”

He bashed the other cage door, the metal rattling. The small curled up figure jerked, startled, and came closer.

Nicole.

The name was familiar.

An abstract memory of a missing persons flier in your local grocery store, pinned to the wall with Nicole’s bright smiling face, sprung to your mind. She’d been missing for two weeks. Her face was splashed everywhere, accumulating with the other missing girls’ fliers, her parents and friends desperate to have her back.

They were all from the state of Kansas.

The Kansas Killer.

Now, your face would accompany the many victims he’d taken the lives of.

You swallowed thickly. The thought of your body never being found had your blood running cold. Because the police hadn’t found a single body yet.

Nicole was a husk of herself. Her hair hung in front of her face, and she avoided looking anywhere. She shook at being in his attention. He crooked his finger, gesturing for her to come closer. She cowered.

“C’mon, Nicole, show Y/N that it’s pointless to hope. Make ol’ Dean proud.”

Dean. The Kansas Killer’s name was Dean.

Looking at Nicole, she was doing a great job at pitting despair in your belly. She’d been here for two weeks. Is that what he did? Kept them alive. Only to ‘play’ with them. Whatever that was, you didn’t wanna know, but something in your head said you’d be encountering that pretty soon.

[twstgarden]

✰ ❝ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗿𝘂𝗻 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝗲? ❞

━ yan! malleus draconia, yan! vil schoenheit x gn! reader (reader can either be yuu or an oc/twstsona) ━ it seems you have caught the eye of a certain dorm leader(s) in night raven college, but it doesn't seem like he'll let you run off and not be his. you have no choice but to marry him, and you have no choice but to be his perfect lover.

cw: (including but not limited to) yandere themes, mentions of kidnapping, slight dollification, non-consensual drug use, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, mentions of forced marriage

requested by: anonymous request type: oneshot requester’s message: Hello mina!! Can i please request a yandere vil or malleus one-shot any pronouns is good hehe and i really really LOVE your dévouement like when there's an update to the main story i always thought your story first tbh im more excited to your story than the main hehe that's all sorry for the rant thank you po have a great day!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡ florist’s note: hello po, dévouement reader! <3 i'm really glad you love the book! i have dropped an update on that a few days ago~ as for your request, i'll do both vil and malleus, thank you for your request!

might include spoilers for chp 6 and 7! f/n means first name. do not steal or translate without my permission.

— 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙖 —

the silence was deafening in this godforsaken room. you were not even certain if you are locked up in the main castle of the dormitory or in the other area connected to it on the right side of diasomnia's map. you have been here for days, or was it weeks? months? you do not know.

all you knew is you missed a lot of classes now and you have no idea if your friends are searching for you at this very moment.

it has been way too quiet for a while now, it was starting to drive you mad.

you want to be free from this room, you want to speak to another living being, you want to take in the scent of fresh air, you want to be away from him.

everything was fine at the start, or so you thought. you had no idea what you did wrong for him to kidnap you in your sleep and lock you up in this room. you had no chains or ropes tied to your wrists and ankles. in fact, you were not even tied to anything at all! you can freely jump off the window to escape if you wish to.

oh, please. of course, you have tried that. and where did you end up? still in this room. it seems like he used some sort of magic in this room to make it hard for you to escape.

it was a huge disadvantage that you had to be kidnapped by one of the most powerful mages in the world.

'click.'

a noise.

finally. the silence was starting to drive you mad already. your eyes widened as you watched the door slightly open ajar before a tall figure entered the room, closing the door behind him as he approached you. he sat on the corner of the bed and smiled gently at you as if he did not just abduct you and lock you up in this room.

"my dear..."

his voice was deep and tender, clearly lovestruck by you as he caressed your cheek gently with the back of his hands. however, your eyes remained on the door, thinking of ways to escape and run away from here.

he seemed to have noticed your lingering gaze on the exit door, which made him frown as he placed his finger under your chin and pulled your face up to look at him.

and once your eyes met his pained gaze, his finger stroked your cheek as he whispered, "please don't look at the door. i don't want to feel like you're trying to run away from me."

"then set me free."

you demanded softly, wanting to keep that slightly peaceful conversation going, not wanting to piss him off as you still wish to go to sleep with all four limbs intact. his pained gaze turned even sadder as he sat closer to you, "but why? i give you everything you could possibly need. we are to be wed soon, my love. you'll have all the riches you need, you'll have the finest jewellery and clothes in the world, you'll live in my palace and be royalty..."

it might sound like a dream, but it isn't what you desire. you don't even see him in a romantic way either. you wanted to tear up as you imagined your future the moment he mentions marriage, "...i don't want those. i want to go back... i want to see my friends... i don't want to get married, i don't want to become a royal consort with no freedom..."

your words seemed to make him upset. who would reject his offer? he's giving you everything that he thinks would make you happy! his eyes narrowed as he looked at you and huffed, "why would you choose that? all they do is take you away from me."

"i was never yours to begin with!" you argued as tears started to prickle at the corner of your eyes, growing desperate to be free and be away from him and anyone associated with him.

after your little outburst, it was uncomfortably silent in the room, only your soft sniffles and breathing were heard as he sat before you with an unreadable expression, but you knew he was pissed as hell now.

he suddenly stood up and turned his back on you, walking away from the bed and heading to the door. the last thing you heard from him before he left your room and locked the door made you want to sob even more.

"we are getting married whether you like it or not. you do not have a choice."

— 𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙣𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙩 —

the lights of pomefiore's bedrooms normally appear aesthetically pleasing to you, but right now, it served as a frustrating reminder that you have been in the same room for more than 24 hours now, staring at the same objects over and over again, unable to move your limbs to run away from this wretched room.

the brush tickling your cheeks, as it applied a red hue to them, felt like thorns brushing and scratching your skin despite its softness. it was unbearable. you have been sitting on this vanity chair for far too long now, not even sure of how you look like with how you've been tickled and dabbed with makeup brushes and sponges all day long.

a pair of amethyst eyes carefully watched as his hands did all the work on dolling up your face. once he was satisfied, he turned the vanity chair around to make you face the mirror.

you look like a fashion doll.

at least it was better than looking like a clown caked with makeup.

you had to admit, his skills were good. the makeup suits you perfectly and the outfit he made you wear looks gorgeous on you, but it would have been better if he did not paralyze you in the first place with his unique magic by cursing your drink.

you could not respond. you could not even move your hand to touch your face, but he seemed very pleased with himself as he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand.

"you look perfect."

perfect.

perfect.

perfect.

you were nothing but perfect in his eyes right after he dolls you up every time. you felt like you were just a mannequin for him to beautify and show off to everyone, claiming you were his darling lover, that you would forever be the love of his life.

even if you were paralyzed, your eyes filled up with tears. you wanted nothing more than to run away from this place and hide. vil clicked his tongue at the sight of your tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"if you dare mess up my work with your tears, i'm cursing your drink again and i'll redo everything."

you wished you could stop, but his threats sent your heart throbbing with fear as you could not hold it in anymore. tears started to roll down your cheeks as the fear in your heart grew, wishing you could just disappear in the blink of an eye, but alas, you were not blessed with magic, unlike everyone else in this prestigious academy.

vil groaned and harshly held your face by your cheeks, messing up the makeup with your tears and making you look at the mirror as he glared at your reflection, "look what you've done."

and as if the gods have heard your plea, you can suddenly move again. it has been past the time limit of when his unique magic's conditions are met, and once you regained your mobility, you held onto his wrist and tried to pull his hand away from your face.

"please, stop! i'm sorry, i'll fix it!" you pleaded, sobbing even more as vil pulled his hand away from your face and landed a slap on your cheek before making you look at him again. "fix? you're not even good enough to apply makeup on your own," hissed the man harshly as he glared at you.

he sighed as he stood straight, closing his eyes and placing his fingers on his temple to show how stressed he was. the pomefiore dorm leader looked at you with a glare before grabbing your cup on his bedside table, refilling it with your drink of choice and casting his unique magic on it.

this time, his conditions included a longer time limit than earlier.

vil stood before you with the cursed or drugged drink and held your face with one hand to try and pry your mouth open. he brought the glass to your lips, forcing you to drink the beverage as you started hitting his arm and struggling, hoping he would stop forcing the cursed drink down your throat, but his strength was overwhelming. his grip on your cheeks made it feel like your face was about to break if he gripped you a little harder.

you struggled to push him away as he forced the drink down your throat, and once he was finished, he placed the cup on his desk and made you sit properly, leaving you paralyzed in that same position once again.

tears continued to stream down your cheeks as you sobbed and pleaded for him to stop. at least this time, his conditions did not include taking away your ability to speak. vil leaned down to look at you right into your fearful eyes as he whispered, "stop looking so frightened when i'm around."

vil gave you a small smile before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. it felt patronising, as if he was taking any ounce of authority you have left in you and taking full control of your life. he leaned his cheek on your head as you both looked into your reflections in the mirror, seeing his endearing smile after doing something drastic to you made you sick to your stomach.

how could he smile after treating you so harshly?

"i'm only doing this out of love, my darling. you have to look perfect before we go out for dinner, no?"

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[okanadafreakingfan]

Teach me to laugh again

Buggy X reader

Part 1

So this started as me writing out my OCs backstory but I’ve changed the POV so that it can be read as a reader insert. Currently it’s all angst and fluff cause they are children in this, after the flashback I’ll see about more mature themes :)

Let me know if you’d like to see more of this, title help me with inspo <33

Everything was cold. Whether it was the golden collar around your neck, or the chains shacked to your ankles, hidden beneath a long skirt, keeping you from running away, that made you feel this way. Or maybe it’s from the general lack of warmth in your life, since the day you ate that damn devil fruit. You only ate it 3 years ago, the day you turned 7. You were only a child. You still are a child, but it doesn’t feel like it. You feel like you’ve had you childhood stripped from you, had to grow up so fast, to mature in this new, unloving environment.

You ate it by accident, almost dying from hunger on the streets you resorted to stealing. it was the only food in reach, it was a bit odd, blue and swirly, but at the time you just assumed it was from the other side of the grand line, maybe even the red line, as that specific market was full of odd fascinations from many different places. You ate the odd fruit thinking nothing of the distastefulness of it, your mind was solely on survival. However, the person who set up the shop caught you around the corner, dragged you by the elbow and chained you to the shop stall. He said that you will have to earn that fruit with your life, and that he now owned you for your trespasses.

He chained you up and made you perform, after finding out that you had eaten a sing-song devil fruit, allowing you the power of voice, and a beautiful, alluring singing voice that was very profitable for the man that now owns you.

And so now here you are, ten years old, sitting on a wooden plank that substitutes as your bed, staring at the wall. You have no dreams, no aspirations. You barely remember the person you were before everything went downhill. can’t even remember the faces of your family.

Did i even have a family?

Oh well it doesn’t matter now. What good will thinking do me. I’m an object, a simple attraction that people pay to watch perform, a designated child prodigy,but no one knows the reason for your amazing voice is simply the effects of a Devil fruit.

all of a sudden your world crashes around you as the entire building shakes. The place is built near the shore, so it’s very likely to have been a cannon ball, pirates were attacking.

The wealth that has been wracked up by the establishment must have made its way to the pirates ears. Your eyes finally leave the wall as another loud bang goes off and the building shakes, there are no windows in the room your kept in, there’s no way of knowing what’s going on out there. Shouting and the sound of things being broken is all that can be heard. Footsteps coming closer and closer.

Drawing your legs close to your chest, tears start to form at the corners of your eyes. Although this is a horrible life to live, it’s the only life you’ve known, other than starving on the streets that is. You don’t want it to all be stripped from you once again, anything but that. And pirates were sure to be worse than any treatment you have gotten here.

The door to your so-called room suddenly gets bashed in, an older man with a prominent black mustache looks in and seems surprised to see you here. Next to him are two boys around my age, one with red hair and a straw hat, and the other with blue hair and a prominent red nose. You look at them for a moment. The older man (you later find out to be Gol D. Roger) steps forward to see if the key he has on him fits in the keyhole on the gold collar strapped to your neck. It doesn’t and he lets out a slightly annoyed sigh.

“Buggy, try get this lock picked,” he tosses him a thin lock picking tool “I’ll continue to look around, shanks with me” he orders that last part as he turns his heel to leave the room.

Buggy looks annoyed at this and grumbles something you can’t quite make out before sitting beside you to try pry off the collar.

“I’m buggy” he huffs, apparently not liking how silent you were being.

“Y/n” you whisper back, voice slightly horse from un use. You haven’t spoken a word in the past three days.

“Pfft” he chuckles as he continues to work at the lock.

“What?” You tilt your head, confused. He thinks you look sadly adorable with such a blank expression but such inquisitive eyes.

“It’s just the way your looking at me, it’s funny is all… uhh not that It’s a bad thing, or anything,” He curses at himself, he doesn’t want to make her think he’s a mean person, it seems like she’s got enough of that already from the looks of things. She was scarily thin though, and definitely looked too pale for comfort. Finally the clasp to the collar unlocked and the chain fell from it just as the building began to shake again, the walls crumbling slightly from pressure. They needed to get out of here quick.

“Comeone lets go” he says quickly, standing up and yanking you up with him. The chains around your feet clang at the movement. he, only now noticing them, lets put an audible groan as he tries to pry them off.

“Just take the gold collar and go, it’s more valuable than I am” you say, barely above a whisper.

Buggy just stares at you, not believing what just came out of your mouth.

“Do you think we’re just trying to get your gold off you!?” He yells, genuinely worried that that’s actually what you think is happening.

You simply give a small nod, what else would pirates want from you? In your mind You would have no other value to them.

“No! We’re getting you out of here, whether you like it or not, I am gonna save you and your gonna thank me” he shouts this, like a promise. The way you look at him makes something inside him break. The light in your eyes looks like it’s been dimmed a long time ago, and a part of him just wants to make you happy again, to see you laugh. And most of all, to see you away from this hellhole, and safe with him.

[jev-urisk]

Morreial's heist supplies: Tag Game ✨️

Original game by @thecomfywriter (Post HERE). Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet!

Premise: Write your OC using these tools (from Ch. 18 of Throne of Vengeance) to commit a heist involving an armored vault. A piece of string, a lantern, oil, matches, a book, a cup, an enchanted shovel, and a pair of gloves. And, a navy blue Henley

Love, LOVE this prompt. It's perfect for Kazimier💋, my shapeshifting incubus OC from my WIP 🌐7 Circles🌐

It's kinda spoiler-y, because it goes over some of Kazimier's abilities and really shows the kind of bastard he is. You've been warned.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal. Kazimier smirks behind his drink, an appraising glint in his mismatched eyes. "You wanna know how I did it?" he teases. He knew you did, but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

"How did you steal it?"

He leans back, swirling his glass. "So the safe in this fancy hotel was owned by a Nexi couple, right? They shipped the damn thing down from Nexis years ago an' had it installed in their always-booked penthouse suite. I woulda' sacked it a decade ago but this safe has an arcane lock, capisce?"

You shake your head no, and he rolls his eyes.

"Magic technology, unpickable. An' the only way to open this particular lock is to touch their wedding rings to this weird circle on the front, yeah? So the first thing I do is track down a mediocre fairy lantern replica."

"Wait, what?" you can help uttering, and it earns you a scoff.

"What? It's not like faeries are real, an' if they were they'd appreciate how stupid some folks are over their alleged arda'facts. The husband was one such stupid folk, and after broadcastin' that someone on the black market found a new lantern, a few fake death threats, and a well-placed comment made by a poker dealer- I got him to agree to a meeting in a car. One of them fancy Nexi ones that comes with a driver an' I made sure the person at the wheel is one on my payroll. I arrive as a representative of the auction house, shapeshifted to look like a vampiress."

"Wait, so you-"

"Had tits, yes. Along with long brown hair, skinny ankles, and a pencil skirt shorter than your attention span."

You grimace, "I wasn't going to ask about you having, uh.."

"-AAAnnyway, the moment I set down my briefcase bag it starts leakin' a sleeping gas and I keep him distracted. Soon enough he's out like a light and I crack open the hollowed out copy of 'Auctions Uncatalogued: A Dry Fuckin' History Book' for a few supplies. I knew he was a thicc bastard, so I came prepared with some oil and string to get the ring off, as well as gloves to keep the guy's taste outta my brain."

"What does that mean??"

"I'm not gonna explain how to get little rings offa big fingers, bud. Ask the internet. OH, I also filched his shirt- a blue henley kinda' thing, and his slacks. The car keeps movin' and I use his weird-Nexi-phone to call his broad, who is very occupied in some high-stakes gambling and tell 'er using her husband's voice that I need her ring to make an exchange of some Nexan technology in the safe for the super legit fairy lamp some vampire just showed me. I shapeshift into the husband, put on his clothes, and am in and out of the casino without the broad suspecting a thing. She hands me the ring, I complain bitterly about her not spendin' enough time with me, she tells me not now and goes back to her gambling. Perfect marriage. An hour later I've exchanged their top-grade arcane technology for a dinky old lamp and am waitin' around for the wife to show up." Kazimier finishes, quirking his brow as he drinks some of his cocktail.

After a few moments it seems like he;s truly done, but it might be another instance of him leading you to egg him on. "Well what happened when the wife showed up?" you ask, hooked despite yourself.

Kazimier's grin widens, "She found a brown-haired vampress in her penthouse wearing nothing but her husbands blue henley." He takes in your expression and keeps going, "The broad probably would've killed me if I didn't 'confess' that her husband had just left for the bar in the lobby with the other girl. Boy did that lie get her back out the door in an instant. From there I put a little oil in a glass cup, light it with a match, an' drop the little moltov offa' the balcony. A signal to get in position. I count to sixty and jump off myself- make my getaway."

You lean back, taking in the convoluted mind you're sitting with tonight, somewhat stunned. "Wait- Why did you need to borrow my enchanted shovel, then?" you add, happy that it was returned to you clean and unharmed the moment you sat down but curious since Kazimier said it was needed for this heist.

"Oh, that? I killed the husband." Kazimier says with a casual shrug.

"You used my shovel to bury a Nexan?!" you hiss, leaning forward. This wasn't what you expected at all when Kazimier offered you a deal.

Kazimier leans forward, all the humor gone from his face, only the tilt of his head hinting at his amusement. "I used your very unique shovel to kill, a Nexan, sunshine." He kills his drink and with a parting chuckle you and your shovel are left behind, tools that have fulfilled their use and you realize with ice in your blood why Kazimier just told you everything.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal.

Taggames: Taggames: @katenewmanwrites @smellyrottentrees @wyked-ao3 @lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @urbiggestfan-01 @quillswriting @tragedycoded

[a-writer]

Prisoner - Azriel x OC - Chapter 2

Hello!:) Chapter 2 of Prisoner. If you want to read the first part, here it is. Thanks!!! Enjoy:)

Warnings: a lil bit of torture, a lil bit of flirting.

“How is it possible that the Hewn City soldiers came to me saying that someone from Hybern had tried to steal some of the family heirlooms?” Azriel flipped his dagger in between his thumb and forefinger, a playful tone to his voice. “I thought we killed all of you.”

“You thought wrong.” Fiadh looked into his eyes, reminding herself to stay as calm as possible. The king himself had made sure that she wouldn’t break if she ever was captured.

Azriel kneeled in front of her, putting himself at eye-level. Fiadh studied his face. He was a handsome male, she’d give him that. His syphons casted a blue glow, making his cheekbones stand out. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the darkness of the cell and Fiadh’s hand twitched behind her back. For a second, she wanted to touch his face, run her finger across his hard jawline. Something nasty bloomed on her chest, had they given something to her that was fucking with her brain?

She knew that the tonic she was forced to drank when she arrived at the cell was to keep whatever powers she had at bay. But she could feel a buzz all over her body, and she knew that, if she wanted, she could make Azriel’s shadows turn against their master.

“Why did you try to steal the heirlooms?” Azriel pressed the tip of his dagger into Fiadh’s thigh.

“I was bored.” Fiadh shrugged one shoulder, giving Azriel a taunting smile.

“You think this is a joke? Maybe I should go, leave you here for a week, no food, no water. I’m sure you’ll be more than willing to cooperate after that.”

“And leave me without your amazing company? Oh, no!” Fiadh said dramatically, watching Azriel’s expression turn hard. Good. If he was pissed, he was more prone to get distracted enough for her to strike.

Azriel looked down just for a second, and when his eyes landed on her again, his expression was different. Something dark crossed his eyes and his mouth turned up into a cruel smirk, like he was ready to eat her whole. Fiadh would have swallowed if her mouth hadn’t been so dry.

“Are you enjoying my company?” His voice was low, almost sounding like a growl and Fiadh’s hands curled into fists.

She forced her breath to stay normal, focused on not getting too nervous. If her heart started pounding too fast, he would notice. She curved her lips into a smirk similar to Azriel’s.

“I enjoy the sight of you kneeling in front of me.” Azriel’s eyes widened just for a second at her response and she knew that she got him.

But before she could say anything else, Azriel’s dagger moved across her thigh, cutting her pants and the skin below. Fiadh let out a growl, cursing the male in front of her. She doubled over, sensing Azriel getting up. A shadow was curling on her left ankle, it was the perfect opportunity. Fiadh stayed doubled over, blocking out the pain from her leg as she concentrated and brought her power to the surface. She commanded the shadow slowly, her eyes fixed on the dark mist, making it snake in between the rope and her skin, breaking strand by strand of the cord. When her left ankle was free, she quickly commanded the one on her right to do the same, making the shadows spread to both her feet to cover what she had done.

She could feel her excitement bubbling up, she could do this. She straightened her back, a pained expression returning to her face. Blood was pouring down her leg, Azriel no longer in front of her. But he still was in the room. Fiadh could feel it, feel him, looming over.

Suddenly, she felt her head jerking back, Azriel’s hand holding her hair in a tight fist, her scalp burning from the hard tug.

“I would love to play with a little thing like you.” Fiadh felt his breath fanning over her face. “But I don’t have the time.”

His right hand came up, the cold blade of the dagger resting against Fiadh’s neck. She widened her eyes, her pulse now picking up pace. No, no, no. She had to think fast or the Shadowsinger would kill her. She closed her eyes, forcing all her power to come out. She could feel her body tingling with anticipation, and as the dagger dug just enough for a trickle of blood to slide across her neck, she exploded.

A wall of shadows burst out, sending Azriel toppling backwards. Fiadh stood up, her feet free and commanding her own shadows, she broke the rope holding her wrists. Azriel’s dagger lay next to her and she picked it up, turning around just to see the spy master standing up, looking at her like he really was going to kill her now. Before she could turn around and run for her life, Azriel spread his wings and flew to her, so fast she didn’t have time to process what was going on.

The next thing Fiadh knew was her body being thrown against the wall, Azriel’s hand on her neck, squishing the air out of her lungs. Fiadh gasped, the dagger falling to the ground as her hands rose to hold Azriel’s forearm, her nails digging into his skin.

“What are you?” She didn’t know if Azriel looked more pissed or surprised at her as he whispered the words.

Azriel’s hand tightened. It was becoming difficult to breath and Fiadh’s visions started to blur. She could see black dots on her eyes and her pulse was becoming erratic, her neck vein throbbing under Azriel’s hand. Fiadh dug her nails harder into Azriel, but the Shadowsinger didn’t even twitch. Tendrils of black smoke started coming out of her fingertips, surrounding Azriel’s arm, the spy looking at them as if he had never seen a shadow before. Ironic.

But he took his hand back, Fiadh crashing on the floor, coughing and panting. He was stunned, so Fiadh took advantage of his astonishment to regain her footing, punching him in the gut and running to the cell’s door. She opened it, the iron knob banging against the stone wall and tried to run, only to violently crash against another wall. She landed on her ass, grunting. Her thigh was throbbing from the slice Azriel had made and her head was pounding, her whole body telling her to rest. But the adrenaline was high and she knew she needed to get out quickly. She looked up, only to be met with a pair of violet eyes. She was royally fucked, she knew, as she stared into the eyes of the High Lord of the Night Court.

“Hello, Fiadh.” Rhysand’s voice was deep as he looked at her. How the fuck did he know her name?

She stayed quiet, building a wall of shadows in her mind to avoid the High Lord from taking a peek. She moved slowly, helping herself with her hands to try and get up. She suppressed a grunt, her body sore and in pain. Before she could get any further, she was hauled up by her armpits, coming to a standing position quickly. Azriel make quick work of putting her hands behind her back, pinning them with one hand while his other came to her neck, the blade once more resting just above where her pulse fluttered.

“Put on a little show like that again and I won’t hesitate to slay your throat.” Azriel rumbled low into her ear and Fiadh struggled against his hand holding her wrists, to no use.

“What are you?” Rhysand spoke again, the cell filling with so much power it was almost unbearable.

“How come you know about me?” Fiadh challenged the High Lord.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” Azriel growled again, pressing his blade harder into Fiadh’s skin, making her hiss.

“I’ve only heard legends about you. Hybern’s shadowsinger, never thought it was true. But you’re here now, so I guess I was wrong.” Rhysand smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Fiadh was nervous now. She had heard many things of Rhysand, not one single one of them good. He was evil, greedy for power. All in all, he was not so different from the King of Hybern, Fiadh thought. But only one of them could stand, the world could not deal with so many hungry power males. Rhysand was the one who won at the end, at least he won the first round. But now she was free, and she wanted to end him. End every single one of the High Lords. Not for revenge, but because she wanted a free world. Free from tyranny, free from unfair hierarchies. She would start with the worst of them: Rhysand. Maybe that hadn’t been her best idea. But something deep inside her told her to come to the Night Court first. She knew that there was something waiting for her here.

But as she looked into Rhysand’s eyes, feeling the body heat of Azriel right behind her, she wasn’t so sure of anything good coming from this situation. The High Lord finally looked away from her, only to land his eyes right above her head.

“Bring her up. I have more questions for her and it fucking reeks in here.” Without another word, Rhysand disappeared.

“Up? Where?” Fiadh asked, even though she didn’t expect Azriel to answer her. She could feel the anger radiating from his body.

Azriel lowered the dagger and he turned her around, bringing her hands to the front. He tied them together, tightening the rope to the point of pain. He smiled, satisfaction etching across his face at her whimper. Fiadh straightened her back. Proud asshole.

“That’s what you love to do, don’t you? Tie up pretty girls? Kinky.” A sarcastic smirk covered her mouth as Azriel looked into her eyes. Something sparked there, like he was seeing a good challenge unfold.

“That’s just one of the many things I love to do, yes.” Azriel’s voice was again low, and the anger seemed to not be there anymore, replaced by a curiosity on his eyes. “But you said it yourself. I only love to do it to the pretty ones.”

Fiadh narrowed his eyes, opening her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, but he suddenly grabbed the back of her knees, his other arm snaking across her back, as Fiadh let out a small scream.

“Now, shut up already.” Azriel gave her a saccharine smile.

Before Fiadh knew what was happening, they were travelling across shadows and stars, winnowing. And all of a sudden, they were falling down the sky. Fiadh screamed, feeling her stomach drop. Azriel tightened his hold on her as he spread out his enormous wings and started flapping them. They were flying and Fiadh was about to lose her mind. She closed her eyes, trying to stay as still as possible. But she could feel the wind against her, the sound of his wings moving and her reflexes made her hands grab the collar of his shirt, her fists bunching up the fabric and her face snuggled on the crook of his neck.

She felt Azriel’s feet landing and the male basically threw her onto her feet. Fiadh stumbled, trying to regain her breathing and not throw up. She looked around, they were on a big terrace and, right in front of her, a big house, practically a castle, stood up.

“Where are we?” Fiadh asked as she panted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She heard Azriel’s voice behind her, taunting her.

And before she could muster up an answer, she felt a jab on the side of her head. Her body fell to the side as everything turned black.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Starfield

Pairing: Delgado x OC

Chapter rating: M

Chapter: 7

This is part 3 and the final part of the Bannoc IV chapters. More on AO3 or start at the Beginning.

It’s late and alcohol buzzes in his veins as he palms the nav table with slumped shoulders. There’s a brunette sucking him off that he’d brought back from The Last Nova. It’s been three weeks of worrying and he needs to find pockets of relaxation. So, the brunette offered relief and a blow job’s a blow job. He’s never been too picky about it before. But this one? It’s not that it’s bad and it could be categorized as pretty good. It’s just not—it simply is not her. It’s not great.

Delgado grits his teeth together and vacantly stares as the red lights in the command center flicker. Fucking annoying. He’s losing focus. But he shouldn’t have to concentrate this hard. It’s a goddam blow job. Shouldn’t he be thoughtless and less tense by now? Maybe if he just imagines the mischievous glint in her eyes or the feel of her teal strands in his grasp the tension might unravel. He closes his eyes to paint her picture but it’s blocked by flickering orange behind his eyelids. Flicker. Flicker. Suck. The suction is pleasurable but his mind is so fickle, and he falls flaccid with the languid lathing of the pirate’s tongue. Fuck, he can’t even remember this one’s name.

He backs up and tugs her off. Teeth scrape against sensitive skin and he winces. “Go.”

“But I—”

Raised finger like the reaper, he points at the fated door, his pants bunching around his ankles. The pirate doesn’t even huff right as they saunter from the room. Delgado yanks up his pants, and strolls those few steps to the exit. He marches down the stairs to the command center. There’s not a single glance spared in the direction of the displaced pirate.

The trip to ship services is the same as always minus the interruptions from Murdock. Instead of entering Jazz’s space though, he leans over the counter like any regular customer, waiting for her to notice him at the window. Eyes on her computer screen only, she doesn’t see him there.

He taps the ‘ring for service’ bell once and its jingle echoes throughout the atrium. “Have you heard—”

Jazz sighs and cuts him off. “No, still haven’t heard anything from your precious pirate.” Her brows furrow as she continues typing, the glow of the computer screen highlighting her annoyance.

Naeva barked out a laugh. “Your little friend probably ran off with the money by now. Do you really think someone who steals from you every chance she gets is going to suddenly become loyal? What reason does she have to bring it back here?”

“I hate to agree with Naeva on this one boss,” Jazz says while her fingers clack against the keys. She briefly glances up at him.

“You agree because deep down you know I’m right.” Naeva folds her arms across her chest, leveling a hardened stare at Delgado. “I say you hunt the bitch down and take back what’s ours.”

“Alright, Naeva. That’s enough,” Del says, his tone remaining cool and even. “Jazz. Ready my ship.”

A small smile graces Naeva’s lips and she almost nods approval. “I am leaving The Key in both of your hands while I am away.”

“You are leaving it in good hands.” Naeva’s smile grows bigger.

“Oh and Jazz, I need my ship prepped for Bannoc IV.”

Naeva’s face falls and the clacking of the keys ceases.

“You have got to be fucking joking,” Naeva says, throwing her hands up in the air in disbelief.

“I mean, I do have prototypes of both the ComSpike and conduction grid but they are just that. They are prototypes. I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“I do not tell you often but you should know that I have great faith in your capabilities, Jazz. I do not need the concern. I simply need my ship outfitted with what you have.” He turns away.

“Del,” Naeva reaches out to grasp his wrist.

“I know what you are going to say. But I need you to trust me on this one. Just one last time.”

Naeva releases his wrist with a sigh. “Fine but if you don’t come back—”

“I trust you and the others to take care of the fleet. If I don’t come back, you can say I told you so to the ghost of my memory.”

“Ha. Real funny,” Naeva says, shaking her head.

Jazz sighs. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” Delgado states without hesitation. “So outfit my ship while I gather a crew.”

He exits, heading back to the bunks. Hopefully, he will be able to scrounge up his usual crew and they won’t be too drunk or high.

[fantasyqueen502]

Happenstance

Word Count: 1,650 

Summary: What if Daryl didn't meet Leah during his time outside of Alexandria's walls looking for Rick? A short story idea that most likely has grammatical errors. Let me know. Feel free to comment, like, and enjoy. 

 Relationship: Daryl x unnamed Male OC

 Rated: PG-13

Brief strong language, brief nudity, mentions of death and injury.

Peering around the brush, goosebumps rose on the back of his neck from the eyes watching him. The shuffling of leaves triggers his bolts. Loading and shooting along the moving bushes, he loaded his final bolt, halting at a dog who barked chaotically. Whimpering when Daryl lifted his bow caused the dog to keep his distance.

 The hunter drops his bow. "Dumb dog," he says, marching off. The dog follows him, leaping and jumping to get his attention. After killing a snake, the dog takes it, running away with it. "I'm going to turn you into a coat, c'mere!" He growls. Slowly to a stop, catching his breath. Looking up, the dog waits, tail wagging. Waiting for the archer to catch his breath.

Turning to leave again, the dog whimpers and whines, resulting in the dog getting a mouthful of the archer's vest by yanking on it.

 Following the dog through the woods, came to the sight of a man hanging by his ankle. Walkers below were lapping up blood that dripped from his crown. The man giggles, waving his dangling hands inches out of their reach. Taking care of the dead and pacing around the swinging man, a smile was still present on his bright red face. He was surprised he had any brain cells left alive. It looks like he had been hanging for a while—maybe a day or two.

 "Duck!" The man exclaims. Daryl flinches, holding his head and looking behind him. The man opens his arms out wide for the dog, who scampers over, leaping up.

Following the rope to the anchor, untying it slowly lowered the man to the ground. The dog barks and leaps about with glee, jumping up onto the hunter and licking his chin, causing the man to grunt in surprise, shoving the dog and spitting the slobber from his mouth. Paying no mind, the canine pads over to lick his master's face. The man groans, his face puffy and discolored.

"Should keep 'im on a leash." The hunter growls, yanking the man's leg, cutting the rope from his ankle, letting it fall, causing the man to wince. "He steal my kill again. I'm killin' the both of ya'." He spat. Snatching up the dead snake, The man laughs as the dog licks under his chin. 

 The man and his dog trek through the woods. A glimmer catches his eye, and thank God for that. As it was the metal shine of a dagger singing through the air His body acted faster than his mind, his knees collapsing and the dagger pinning the cloth of his shoulder to a thick oak behind him.

 The blood left his head gasping at what could have been his death four inches to the right.

 "What're you doing here?" the hunter barks, marching out of the brush. He gawks, mouth wide, as the man grabs the handle, freeing his shoulder with ease, not even giving him a second glance.

 "I wanted to gift you as a sort of thanks for saving me," he stammered. Extending a handful of berries.

 The hunter snares and glances down at the handful of berries. "Elderberries." 

 "I'd be happy to share..."

"You'd die choking on your own vomit," he grunted, turning on his heel, leaving the man who shutters the berries tumbling out of his trembling fingers at the idea of almost dying if he wasn't so focused on thanking the hunter who saved him and Duck.

 Tracking back to his campsite, he was tired and disheartened, marking on the map Xs on areas along the river he had searched. He let out a sigh, fondling the large paper and shoving it into his pack.

 Red

 He furrows his brows at a small pile of strawberries on a cloth. He huffs, having an idea of the culprit. Scooping up one from the pile, inspecting it, and popping the entire thing into his mouth. He hums, closing his eyes to savor the explosion of sweet flavor.

 Untying a dead rabbit from one of his many traps around his camp, dog snatches it. Bowing and hoping to be chased. The dog lures him. The dog barks as he comes to a hill to see his owner waist-deep in the shallow waters. The hunter halts midstep, heat rushing to his face and his heart beating in his ears. Duck barks, startling Daryl as he tumbles forward, ending with a splash.

 "Fuckin'," he groans from the ache in his tailbone and the hurt forming in his raw palms, desperately trying to stop his fall. His mud-caked bangs made him completely blind.

 "You?" 

 "Damn it." Daryl hissed. 

 "Are you okay? That was quite a fall. Is anything broken?" Careful hands cradling under his chin. "I'm fine." He snaps quickly, marching out of the waterhole.

Now dressed, the man picks the debris with a pair of tweezers buried in the hunter's palm.

"Stop your fussing," he scolds, tightening his grip on Daryl’s hand when he tries to pull away.

 Daryl finds himself bumping into the man (most of the time it was Dog finding him, luring the man and himself to each other).

 He would never admit it, but he didn't mind the company.

"How 'bout you and Dog stay here?" he mumbles, finding his feet interesting. After a moment of silence, he wills his eyes to look at a smile. "Wipe that dumbass grin off your face."

"Is "the" Daryl Dixon asking me to move in with him?" He would grin even wider if it were possible.

"No, I'm tired of saving your ass from a walker, or a cyot, or some gang." He defends.

"And so if I stay at your camp, you'll protect me." He bats his lashes.

"Nevermind." He mumbles as he gathers his weapons.

"C'mon, I'm teasing."

"Hope a bear eats you." He snaps and marches off.

"I knew it! This was a set-up so you can take custody of Duck."

"It's not my fault the mutt likes me more." He answers. "Keep calling him Duck when he’s a Dog might have something to do with it."

"I was willing to trust a pretty face." 

“Don't call me pretty."

"But you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Agree to disagree."

He turns, causing the man to stop mid-step. Face blank, he grins up at the Archer.

"You annoy the ever living shit outta me. Yea know that." He says it in his face.

"Yes, but I love you reminding me." He grabs his hand as a sort of safety measure when crossing a mud pit.Daryl couldn't help but smile.

 They find an abandoned cabin, and after clearing it out, the man kills two walkers with ease.

"What?" he asks, catching the slack-jawed expression on the usually stoic hunter's face. Brushing the hair from his eyes and cleaning his knife on his pants.

 "Nothing." He shrugs. 

 The man wakes the hunter, who has nightmares of his time at the sanctuary.  Holding him close, running his hand through his hair has his strong arms gripping him like a lifeline.

Mornings of making breakfast and talking about their lives before. The man has been an actor in some children's shows for many years.

 "The great magician Abra Kadab, very original, I know. I loved the kids."

 "What happened?" 

 "Some paparazzi photos leaked of me and my boyfriend at the time at a bar."

 "Why does that matter?"

 "It was a very sensitive network. "Think of the kids". He mocks shock and horror.

 "Then the world ended, so I hope those bastards are all dead." He shrugs with a smile.

In an abandoned cabin in the woods, Duck lays at the man’s feet as he watches the hunter fill up a bowl of stew in the fireplace. He places the bowl in front of him. Scooting a chair closer to the man.

 "You need to put something on your stomach." He pushes the bowl closer. "I want you to take two bites, c'mon."

 He stares until the man manages a small mouthful. The spoon clattered into his bowl. He exhales a breath, rolling his shoulders. His completion was pale, dark circles of sunken eyes.

 "C’mere," he instructs. Unbuttoning his shirt, a patch on his chest over his heart. Peeling it off to show a perfect bite mark. A simple walk through the woods was something they did every day. The skin around it is beginning to turn pink. The man struggles but stands. Sidestepping from side to side Reaching for his arms, he tugged on them like noodles, but he didn't budge.

 "Dance with me." He whines. 

 "Got bit on purpose. To have me all to yourself." He grumbles. 

"I've caught me." 

They dance by simply stepping left and right. Daryl kept a secure hold as his grip on his hand and shoulder slipped from time to time.

"Take care of, Dog."

"Thought he was Duck."

The man chuckles weakly. "I don’t think I’ll be around to correct you anymore."

"Don’t," he says, shaking his head. "Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine," he assures, chewing on his lip.

"Yeah," he says, playing along. "We live out the rest of our days in this cabin. Two old men and a dog." He chuckles, his eyes heavy, leaning in to touch his nose with the hunter’s. Daryl chuckles, watching the man closely and finding himself pulled in, his lips meeting the corner of his mouth. Kissing the smile, the man hums, turning his head for a proper kiss.

Duck whines, sad eyes darting from Daryl, striking a pile of dirt and dumping it into a grave. The hunter grunts until the pile is gone, patting the earth flat. Letting a tear fall, staring at the unmarked grave, taking a breath, and looking over to the dog.

"Let's go, Duck.”

[numbbrainstrorm]

_________________________________________

WELCOME TO MY NON-GRAMMAR RAMBLINGS ( I'll bite your ankles and steal your kneecaps)

Me on my blog: *the wall is my two OG mutuals (love them)/pos*

Ello I'm Charlie ( Noah A. K. A Numb) /my 2nd ACC: @charlie-kton ( and many more to come lol)

I'm Transmasc and my pronouns are

He / him / they / them 🦐✌️

I do art as a hobby, not a job

Nor do I claim to be good at it ( and I'm doing it for fun)

I have ADHD OR IM JUST STUPID

I'm also self-thought ( semi)

English is my 2nd language

Time zone: UTC+01:00 or CET ( tbh idk which one is right)

This is my main blog where I like to

Post my art

Complain

I usually don't re-blog unless I really like something

My current obsession: transformers ( cyberverse sky byte sodndjjbs~ my beloved husband)

REQUESTS : Closed

SUGGESTIONS : Closed

COMMISSIONS : closed

ASKS : OPEN

I'm NOT doing art for you

I'm doing it for myself

So if you don't like what you see then

Block me

Please be patient I'm mentally exhausted

Is my theme music ( kinda- replace alive with dead)

Rules :

> Don't be rude ( I really don't want to deal with your shit)

> Don't take everything so seriously

> Don't repost my art

> Don't feed my art to the AI

> NO POLITICS STUFF I DON'T CARE ABT THE POLITICS

_______[ insert some sort of banner] lol____

Requests

Will do :

Only transformers

Ships

Rare ships

Silly comics

Silly things in general ( I like fun)

NSFW ( gore, cigarettes, suggestive, etc.....)

Won't do :

Proships ( problematic ships)

Hatespeech

NSFW ( porn / people really either hate this word or love, you guys are insane )

Elita-1 + Oplita, anything that touches her is a NO ( for me she doesn't exist)

Babies ( I'm fine with chibis)

Promotions (???)

Humans

Politics

---------[ MLEM ] - - - - - - - - - >

ASKS :

I'll answer anything

Besides personal stuff

Expl: Q - what's your age? (it's none of your business / I'm old enough :) )

-----------[*Snoring *] - - - - - - - - >

WIP IDK WHAT AM I DOING ( still)

RULES : Everything that is above

Will do:

- Ocs

- ships ( 2nd character is 50% off)

- Rare ships

- Mild gore

If you have any questions, Feel free to DM me via Tumblr

--------[ Rawr~] - - - - - >

COMICS CANCELLED BC: NO INTEREST

Rodiclash comic : it's a lot of work since I want it to be like an Opening to my AU /Icarus/ ( currently re-writing it bc I'm a dumb ass)

Update: working on my first predacon

So lot of word building to Do

And I gotta find an Art style I'm satisfied with

I can't promise that it's gonna happen

I have like a beginning done

So I'm lazy to write omfg

Icarus ( part: semi-organic cybertronian predacons )

It's an idea ( remember the part when Fort Max saved a bunch of Cybertronians with beast alt modes) of Cybertronians with beats mode being experimented on Organics that were almost instinct by Megatron / their 4-mill year-long war

It's that but dragons

Highly inspired by the book series Wings of Fire

And Transformers Prime ( Predacons)

> I can guarantee that it's gonna happen

> WHEN? Idk

And a bunch of small sillies comics that I plan to finish <3

----- [ done] - - - >

If you have any questions don't be shy and ask me

[blueookashi]

SHAKING U GENTLY HIII HELLO HII - Your ocs (protags and maybe some side ocs) in a nerfgun war, who is winning and also who is out first given the laws of the game? - Does Max have bio parents that are present in the story?? if you're allowed to talk about that bc i've always been curious and i'm not sure if i've asked before - Blackberry random fact go!! what is her deal she seems hella interesting if you're allowed to say - i'm guessing Bullet is a shoe hater but also i need confirmation. does he ever step on those evil little burrs out in the grass. 2nd to this i dont think i've ever seen him in something that isnt shorts is he one of those guys thats like yeah shorts and crocs combo in the middle of winter - This isn't a question i just need to say that Amy is rlly pretty, girl has fantastic eyeliner - i need to know Grey's taste in music/fav songs if they exist,,, plea,,,, - Can Blue bap things with her ears and also how strong r her ears like is it similar to when dogs smack u with their tails on accident and ur like wofgh wtf this could break my bones or is she just rlly fluffy pspsps

HIII!!! :D!!!

1- HMMMM, that is tricky, cause like Blue would either win or be first out depending on her energy and if she wants to do it KJD;SGJKA otherwise, I think Grey and Bullet may be first out- Grey is a bit too nice and Bullet is clumsy DAKJG then it would prob be Max and the rest of the Boys, Max is too cocky, Logan is also a bit clumsy and a lil too safe, and Tyler, Tyler is just participating he'll be dramatic as hell once he's shot LKAJS;FGAJ who would probably win in that case has to be Amy, she's the most chaotic and energetic one here (she would 100% climb trees or hide on/behind rocks and ambush people) but thats only if Blue doesn't have the energy, if she does, everyones doomed DASJG

2- Max does indeed have bio parents! As of right now, I currently have no plans for them to show up? That could change however, but he was abandoned by them and thats why he lived on the streets for a bit. Thats also why Max steals a lot and stashes things in random places cause thats what he had to do live. Sometimes tho, being a child, he would steal stuff that caught his eye too; got him caught eventually. But yeayea, his parents abandoned him! So idk if they'd come back, I'd have to ponder on that

3- I'll give you two facts! Her and Lavender are step-sisters! Lavender's dad and Blackberry's mom got together, Blackberry wasn't too fond of Lavender at first? Cause she didn't want a new dad, meanwhile on Lavender's side everything was awkward cause I have it planned rn that Lavender's mom died during childbirth, so Lavender never really knew her mom or had a mom, so having one then was just super awkward! But yeayea Plum is their half-sister! :D Another lil fact more about her deal, is that, she's one of the ones that would tell the Bitch things about Blue, she didn't know what that Bitch was doing so it wasn't entirely intentional? But it still was harmful and not from a great place, so she made Blue's situation worse regardless

4- Oh he's definitely stepped on a couple of burrs before KASDGJ he does the biggest YOWCH and jumps up from them for sure ASDGKJL I think the most Bullet would ever wear is sandals, but he wouldn't wear SHOE shoes for sure, he's used to being barefoot, he might actually wear crocs tho those definitely got his vibes LKAJSDG; but yea he does not like burrs OH YEA YEA the longest pair of pants he has doesn't even reach his ankles I don't think he likes wearing long pants, he'll have to do it in winter though cause he doesn't handle the cold that well, so he'll tolerate it then but the moment, the MOMENT, it gets warmer it is back to shorts LKAJSDG

5- She says thank you <3

I don't think she gets complimented often, at least not from people she likes LKAJS;DGLK

6- OHHH THAT IS DIFFICULT, I don't even know what genre of music I like ADKJG;SJ HMMMMM I mean! In The Fallen, you gotta have that phonograph to listen to music, and those are pricy, its either that or going to places like inns or people at festivals, you get the picture so hmmm Grey DID grow up with the piano, and the kind of music she'd hear would be stuff like this

and sorry to put a WHOLE ost video here but its the only one where I can find these specific tracks but from 3:41:50 to 4:05:30 is more examples

YES ITS AMNESIA OK?? KILL ME. /j LKJ;DGA but this is the kind of stuff Grey heard all the time growing up, just that melancholy piano, so I think Grey would be genuinely comforted if she heard it again, so I guess this kind of stuff!! and I'm pretty sure with that first vid people can guess who's playing this kind of stuff around/to Grey KJA;DGS but sorry I cannot talk about mom As for like modern au? hmmm god I'm not good at knowing genres tbh this is really hard DLKAJSG, definitely not something super loud like metal or hard rock, not pop either, not country.... Folklore??? Would it be Folklore??? I'd imagine she'd listen to First Aid Kit and maybe Monsters and Men?? Ooh this is hard LKJ;DASGLK but I think thats her vibe LKJDASGLK I think she'd like Dirty Paws! or Meet me in the Woods!

7- I think they are very soft and fluffy! However, with enough velocity I'd imagine they might hurt but not BONE breaking hurt just an owie that lasts for like 5 seconds KJSDLAGJ;K but I imagine her ears being more soft rather than being weapons KDLJAG

[starchildren220]

Labour III

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Labour Masterlist

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Charles Xavier x OC

꧁ ꧂

1945

The war was over, and the people of Auschwitz were freed. Erik couldn't leave not yet he had to find Schmidt and his sister. Though he wouldn't see them for a while.

Schmidt took Atara with him, he couldn't give up his most powerful weapon. He made her into a pyrokinetic user by injecting the blood of one into her. Though the drawbacks of using the power that did not belong to her was tenfold than the actual use of the power.

Schmidt did not care about this as when he left with her, he sought out more mutants to update his experiment.

Erik almost found Schmidt, but only actually found a few soldiers that worked for him. Then he just left. The night Schmidt told her she sat in her room all night not getting a wink of sleep.

꧁ ꧂

1962

Erik walked through the streets of Switzerland with a tan briefcase in hand and a grey suit and hat.

He walked into the bank and into the office of the banker, setting down the briefcase and opening it, he grabbed what was inside, he sat down as he closed the briefcase and set the object down, a Nazi gold bar.

"Possession of that gold is illegal. I should inform the police." The banker told him.

"Let's not play this game."

"Where did you get it?"

"A friend. He recommended your bank most highly."

"I see. Do you know our terms, sir?" The banker's hands clasp in front of him as his elbows rest in the arm of the chair.

"Yes." Erik nods, "And you should know mine." Erik picked up a picture on the banker's desk.

He breathed out and set the photo back down like it was before. "This gold is what remains of my people. Melted from their possessions, torn from their teeth, this is blood money, and you're going to help me find the bastards responsible for it." Erik tisked and kept the banker's finger from pushing the alarm button. Using the metal of the watch on the banker's wrist Erik flung the bankers arm back, which hit his head.

"Don't touch that alarm." Erik stood up and started to walk around the desk.

"I want Schmidt. Klaus Schmidt." He leaned on the front of the desk. Smacking the side of the bankers face he questioned him. "Where is he?"

"Our clients don't provide addresses, we're not-" Erik pushed his chest pushing him back against the chair.

"Not that sort of bank?" Erik interrupted. Pulling his hand up and his finger taking a pulling shape.

A crunching sound came from the banker's mouth and his jaw spread wide.

"Metal fillings, eh? Not gold. Worried someone might steal them?" The crunching got louder, and the man groaned in pain.

"Argentina! Schmidt is in Argentina! Villa gesell! Please!" He begged.

Erik stared into the banker's eyes until the bankers metal filling came flying out of his mouth.

The banker gasped for air and held his jaw.

"Thank you." Walking back around to the other side of the desk he grabbed his stuff. "I would love to kill you." Pulling the briefcase off the desk he started walking away.

As he walked, he spoke. "So, mark my words. If you warn anyone I'm coming," he paused walking. "I will find you." And he opened the door and left.

꧁ ꧂

It was boring in the lounge while Frost was out fetching the colonel. The silk sofa was comfy but what she was forced to wear was not even close to comfortable, her 'uniform' was very similar to Frost's, except hers was black and lacy and Atara didn't have long leather boots, she had closed toed platform heels with a strap around her ankle and lace stockings that connected to her underwear under her black miniskirt that had a high slit on both sides.

"You look stunning my diadem." Shaw held Atara's chin with his two fingers making her face him. Kissing under her jaw he whispered into her ear.

"When we get some alone time, I might have to rip that right off you." A shiver went down her spine, after years she still wasn't used to what he said and did to her.

Luckily Frost showed up with colonel Hendry, the only times you were actually happy to see her was when she interrupted these types of moments. Shaw got up and Frost showed the colonel to his seat and sitting a few seats away.

Playing a record to ease up the tension in the room. He walked back over to the sofa with a glass of caramel colored liquid with the ice hitting the sides of the glass.

"You sure we can't get you a refill Bob?"

"No." Shaw sat next to Atara again and place one of his arms around her shoulder and the other held his glass. Crossing his leg, he started to talk again.

"So, I hear you blocked the proposal to position Jupiter missiles in Turkey." He paused. "I expect you'll reconsider." Resting his glass on the higher knee.

"We've had this conversation. You put our nukes in Turkey or anywhere that close to Russia and you're looking at war, nuclear war." The colonel told him off not changing his mind.

"I don't ask for favors, colonel, I express my expectations. So, let me say it again, I expect you'll reconsider." Shaw smiled lightly.

"The only thing I will reconsider is having another glass of that delicious champagne." Hendry stood up to reach for his glass.

Shaw turned his head to Riptide and made a circling motion with his and placed his hand back down on Atara's shoulder opposite of him.

Riptide lifted his hand a swirling wind came from his fingertips and twisted together on his palm releasing it he pointed his pointer and ring finger towards the colonel.

The wind passes by making her hair move around. It settled on the table until Riptide flicked his fingers up and it hit the colonel sending him flying back into the wall.

The four of them stood up and walked to where the colonel was lying in the floor. "You're thinking of running." Frost spoke into his head. Hendry hand went to his forehead not understanding what was happening "Hiding, we'd find you, Hendry. There's not a fortress in the world that could keep us out." Atara was slow with walking, and she stopped behind Shaw and Frost looked between them at Hendry, Riptide stopped walking and stood next to her on the other side of Shaw.

Frost transformed to her diamond body. "Magnificent. Isn't she, Bob? Genetic mutation. The evolution of the human genome." Shaw turned to Frost. "Where's Azazel?" Frost whistled for him, like a dog.

He popped up in front of Atara, she jolted a bit. Riptide rest a hand on her middle back.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. She nodded.

"I never get used to him popping in out of nowhere." She smiled weakly at him.

"Ah, we don't want the colonel to be late." Azazel reached his hand down to help the colonel up. Hendry was concerned and eyes Azazel's hand.

"Comrade." At this the colonel lifted his hand into his. Popping out of the room and a mist of red both of them were gone.

Atara shivered not truly realizing how cold it was in the room, she brought her hands up to hold herself and conserved her warmth. A cloth was rested upon her shoulders, and she turned, Riptide had taken of his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders as he saw her shiver and wanted to help.

"Thank you." It barely came out, but he heard it, she knew from the slight smile the was present on the edge of his lips.

꧁ ꧂

1305 words

[dolliedyhard]

Facts About Dollie Dyhard

Last Updated: October 27th 2024

꒰🎀꒱ This post contains all the general knowledge about Dollie! This post will be updated when needed.୨୧

꒰🚫꒱ I do NOT approve of making “Your own version” of Dollie or ANY of my OC’s. They are NOT valid! Make your OWN OC instead of STEALING MINE!!! You will be blocked if you do that.

*** = Edited paragraph

-NEW- = Newly added paragraph

꒰⚠️꒱ TW: Light mentions of ED & SA

*ೃ༄‧˚ Apperance

╰┉┈ Dollie Winehouse is 16 y/o South African American and stands at 5’4 and is 84lbs/38kg. Her amber eyes are round sorta like doe eyes paired with full lashes. Her body type is petite.

╰┉┈ Dollie’s natural hair is jet black 3c ending near her mid back. Her hair isn’t straight and blonde by nature like you are used to seeing, it’s actually a wig!

╰┉┈ Dollie has joints just like a ball-jointed doll, it’s makes her stronger and it’s how she gets her abilities. Her ball-joints are located at her neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and ankles.

╰┉┈ When it comes to physical attractiveness Dollie is fairly pretty, like a 7.5/10.

╰┉┈ Dollie has a small beauty mark under her right eye.

*ೃ༄‧˚ Physical & Mental State + Morals & Trauma

Physical Health

╰┉┈ Dollie gets cold very easily. 60F is considered freezing to her.

-NEW-

╰┉┈ Dollie only eats when she goes on a mission so she can have strength. When she’s off duty she starves herself resulting in feeling weak often. This is caused by her anorexica.

Mental Health

╰┉┈ Dollie has problems setting boundaries with people when their relationship becomes abusive or inappropriate. Since the person at hand is showing signs of possible pushback and defiance Dollie is afraid she will get hurt or offend the person, Like when she was groomed for the first time or when she met Offenderman.

╰┉┈ Dollie is straight. Uhhh ya pretty straight forward… SHE ONLY LIKES BOIZZZ

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

╰┉┈ Dollie is an attention seeker and constantly craves love and attention. Before she met the crp the only person who loved her was her mother. She feels unlovable because the only person to ever show her compassion is the woman who birthed her, which is innate by nature. She clings on to people easily like Jeff, Nina and Offenderman because they are the very few people to show kindness towards her.

-NEW-

╰┉┈ Dollie has been suffering from anorexia since she was 14. Because of that she is extremely contortive of what she eats. An addition to that she has a fear of being fat (ik, pretty silly fear right? >_>) and is very fatphobic.

-NEW-

╰┉┈ Dollie is naive when it come to love and romance. She has never had a crush or boyfriend or even held hands or kissed another guy before. She loves Jeff dearly and would die to be his girlfriend but she has no clue how to confess to him. She’s afraid if he rejects her it will completely end their friendship because it would be super awkward knowing one person has a crush on another but the other person doesn’t feel the same.

Morality

╰┉┈ [Percentage for how bad she feels about committing them. The higher the percentage the less she cares.]

Concerning crimes the ones she commits most often are:

Murder (82%)

Homicide (100%)

Torture (65%)

Arson & Disturbing the peace (100%)

Shoplifting (100%)

(THIS IS NOT A FLEX- just showing u Dollie ain’t making it to heaven)

╰┉┈ Dollies catchphrase before killing her victims is “Death has called your name today”. The backstory behind this phrase is that Dollie believes a lot in fate of the universe, like a lot of psychopaths do. Because of this her moral reasoning for killing people is because it is their time to die. Whether they are a inhuman person so deserves nothing but the pits of hell or a good samaritan who has done the best I their life, if it is their time, then it is their time.

╰┉┈ Another one of Dollies catchphrases is “Beauty is within the ghastly”. The meaning of this phrase is they’re is beauty in everything, though sounding cliche it is true. Even within the odd, the, misunderstood, the macabre, and the ghastly. She can see the glimmers of the fine details in people that come together to make a piece of art that can be understood by only the creative.

For example; Jeff is to most normal people a monster. Hideous, scary, psychotic, any other synonym you can think of. His bloody glasgow smile, pale skin, and messy long jet black hair, and creepy demeanor would make anyone think he’s a batshit crazy. But Dollie can see past that and accept him as well as see his unique inner beauty, like all the rest of the crp. I mean, who would want to live in a house were you think everyone is UGLY?!?!?!?!? XD

╰┉┈ Dollie kills a variety types of people. She is not a vigilante and she does kill innocent people.

Trauma

╰┉┈ Before becoming a Slender proxy Dollie had become a victim of Offenderman. She was all alone in the cold Connecticut forest at dawn with not a soul to help her. Frightened, freezing, and desperate for help Dollie was susceptible to Offender’s seduction. Offender took advantage of her and gifted her a dainty pink rose and the promise of helping her out to gain her trust. Dollie of course has no memory of the rape actually happening but she eventually came to the conclusion of what happened and has been coping with it ever since.

╰┉┈ Dollie has been groomed by two people, both being older men. The first was before being involved with the crp & the second was offenderman.

ೃ༄‧˚ Abilities

╰┉┈ Dollie is mainly a stealth killer. Lurking in dark & unsuspecting places to catch her victims off guard. Therefore her skill in stealth is very high. Hiding in plain sight, being quiet, moving quiet, playing dead, is her specialty.

╰┉┈ For her weapon of choice, Dollie uses a victorian styled scissor and victorian axe when fighting. She also carries needles, some are poisonous and some are for healing purposes.

╰┉┈ Dollies creepy factor is uncanny valley. She’s a ball-jointed doll that sits completely still, lifeless in dark and eerie places not making a sound. Don’t imagine an image of that… I’m not responsible for YOUR NIGHTMARES!!!!

╰┉┈ Dollie stalks a lot if not most of her victims. You have about 1-4 days before your dead meat. Even if she fails to kill you Dollie holds grudges for looooooong times and the moment she ever sees you again it’s over.

╰┉┈ What does Dollie do to her victims? She uses their bodies for taxidermy and dresses them up like dolls. It’s a hobby of hers and the reason she kills in the first place.

╰┉┈ Dollies favorite part of the human body are the eyes. She loves their capability to express surreal emotions, The intricate details in the irsis, the way the pupils dilate, everything.

* ೃ༄‧˚ Relationships

Family

╰┉┈ Dollie’s father is a narcissist and abusive towards her mother, herself and her.

╰┉┈ Dollie’s mother is the only family member she loves and is close too. Her mother also reciprocates the feeling of love and care to her.

╰┉┈ Dollie loathes her brother Brandon. He is the only person Dollie actively causes prolonged torture and torment to instead of just killing him upfront. She has never hated someone so strongly other than him. One day I will explain the reason why she feels this way.

Friends

╰┉┈ Jeff and Nina are her best friends and hang out often together. They are very important to her.

╰┉┈ Dollie admires Jane & Liu as well as most of the older members in the mansion, she thinks they are super cool.

-NEW-

Jeff The Killer

╰┉┈ Jeff was the first person she ever met involved with slenderman. Ever since then they have grown with together and are now extremely close. They aren’t dating yet but they do have romantic feelings for each other. They have the most fun being on missions and traveling together.

-NEW-

Nina The Killer

╰┉┈ Dollie and Nina are the bestest of friends! Nina is the 2nd closest person to Dollie.

Offenderman

╰┉┈ Despite what Offender did to Dollie she is still quite fond of him. Since she has problems setting boundaries with people she idealizes him in her head and tries to rationalize their relationship. She’s like, “At least he didn’t leave me in the forest, he took me somewhere safe…” “I deserved it. Why am I fighting him when I probably liked it anyways?”. She likes the attention he gives her and the idea he might genuinely care about her.

Ben Drowned

╰┉┈ Dollie doesn’t like Ben. She finds the pranks and jokes he pulls to be annoying and he reminds her of her brother, whom she hates deeply.

Jane The Killer

╰┉┈ Jane is a mentor figure to Dollie. Jane tries to help her whenever or however she can.

* ೃ༄‧˚ Personal Interests

Fashion

╰┉┈ Dollie dresses scene & emo as well as lolita sub genres like hime, mori, gothic & classic lolita. But no matter the fashion style she must have her iconic hair bow.

╰┉┈ Dollie is a bohemian and loves everything to do with the arts.

Music

╰┉┈ What’s kind of music does Dollie like? She’s listens to a wide variety of genres. Her favorite artist are The Smiths, Pierce The Veil, Emilie Autumn, and Evanescence.

Random Tidbits

╰┉┈ Dollie is a cat lover and she especially loves tuxedo & black cats.

╰┉┈ Dollie’s signature perfume is Miss Dior Eau De Parfume.

╰┉┈ Dollie’s favorite flower is the Lily of the Valley.

╰┉┈ Dollie’s favorite color is baby pink, hot pink, and black.

* ೃ༄‧˚ Outro

Thank you for reading about my beloved Dollie♥︎.

꒰🖋️꒱ Update log:

- 4 sections added 11/16/23

- 1 section edited 4/13/24

- 5 sections added, 3 sections edited, & format changes [June 2024]

- 4 sections added, 2 sections edited, & format changes [September 2024]

- 16 section added, 3 section edited, 1 section removed, & format changes [October 2024]

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 42

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1709

Warnings: Mention of death, swearing

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: None

Chapter Songs: H.O.L.Y God, Your Mama, and Me

****

Maverick

Rooster woke up not long after his surgery. The first thing he tried to do was stand while mumbling about needing to find Ghost, and although still heavily drugged, it took a Herculean effort between Maverick and Hangman to force the giant back onto the bed. Affronted, Rooster glowered at the two men and demanded, "What the hell are you two doing? Where's Ghost?"

"You just got out of surgery, Bradley," Maverick explained gently. "Your leg was broken, and you have a compressed spine that will thankfully heal without surgery. Along with some cuts and bruises, it's a wonder you don't have more injuries, let alone serious ones."

"I don't care about me. Where's Ghost? Is she-"

"Alive but in surgery. She was in worse shape than you."

Rooster's wan demeanor blanched, causing the bruises on his face to stand out even more prominently. Maverick thought his son may pass out. "Sh-she made it through? I thought she died after-"

She has already. Maverick thought, reliving the moment he heard there'd been a code blue in her operating room. Miraculously she pulled through, but he'd been even more on edge since it happened. Still, he couldn't bring himself to tell that to Rooster, so he said, "Yeah. From what I know so far, she has a concussion, compressed spine, broken ribs, punctured lung, and a broken wrist."

"I knew her ribs were bothering her," Rooster groaned, slamming his head back into the pillow. 

"Easy. You need to be careful with your neck."

"What happened out there?" Hangman asked, uncharacteristically devoid of his usual strength. 

"I don't know how it happened, but she collided with an enemy fighter. Her wing sliced through it. Never saw her eject, so I feared the worst," Rooster replied, sinking into his sheets. His fight evaporated, and Maverick could see his godson struggling to stay awake. "I found her crash site, thought she'd died in it until I saw a parachute in the distance and went to investigate. She was unconscious when I reached her, although she came to pretty quickly. Ghost was furious I was down there. Kind of reminded me of your reaction, Mav."

Rooster chuckled softly. Maverick smiled. "It's the only appropriate response."

"Then what happened?" Hangman prodded.

"We headed in the direction where we'd seen an enemy fighter land. Trekked through the snow and the trees, and my ankle or leg was already fucked up, but only where it caused me to limp. When we got to the base, I tripped in a hole and made it ten times worse. Probably broke it or fractured it at that point."

"How would you even have walked if that's the case?"

"One, I was more concerned about the literal terrorists surrounding us while we casually strode onto the base like we belonged. Telling you, if Ghost and I can't fly again, then we need to go into acting. Two-" Rooster held up three fingers, frowned, and put one down- "adrenaline is a hell of a drug, Seresin."

"How did you steal the plane?"

"We have you to thank for that. I think Ghost might've been planning to set fire to something, but when the air raid siren went off, we managed to take a plane without much issue, although, really, we have Ghost's bilingualness to thank for that."

Hangman cocked his head. "Ghost is bilingual? What's her second language? Spectral?"

"Russian!"

"Russian? She speaks Russian? Since when?!"

"Do I look like I know that? She did yell at a guy trying to climb into a plane, and it was kind of terrifying but also kind of hot and-"

"Captain Mitchell," Cyclone interrupted, garnering everyone's attention immediately. Maverick stood, anxiously awaiting the news. "Ghost is out of surgery, but she's still in critical condition. They had a few close calls in the operating room, and she did flatline once."

Hangman sagged against the foot of Rooster's bed. "Do they know if she'll pull through? I know critical-"

"They can't tell, unfortunately. They're not entirely sure how Ghost survived it in the first place. For all intents and purposes, she should've died after that second ejection because they believe her lung had already been punctured at least slightly from the first one. These next few hours will determine if she'll live through it."

"Will Ghost be able to fly again?" Maverick asked, knowing that would be the second question out of her mouth once she had an answer on Rooster.

"That, I'm unable to tell. Ghost won't need surgery on her spine, incredibly. Her wrist fracture wasn't horrifically severe, not as bad as Bradshaw's leg here," Cyclone said, nodding to Rooster. "How's he doing?"

"He's-" Maverick turned around to find his son passed out and snoring softly- "exhausted. Mainly worried about Ghost. You just missed him. He was up and talking."

Hangman and Maverick explained to Cyclone what Rooster had conveyed to them only moments before. The admiral listened intently, his mouth pursed into a grim, thin line. When they finished the brief overview, the admiral sighed. "Thank you. I'll need both of them to give statements about what happened. When Rooster's awake, coherent, and able to move, have him come to my office. When you're ready, you can go see Ghost."

Maverick wanted to bolt to her room, grab her hand, and plead with his daughter to wake up so he could tell her the truth, that she wasn't alone in this world like she thought she was, that she had family, that she had him. However, he refrained. Turning to Hangman, he said, "Do you want to see her first?"

"I don't want to go alone, sir..." Hangman confessed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Understanding where the aviator came from, Maverick moved to join him on the walk there, but not before shooting one last glance over his shoulder to check on Rooster. His son still slept soundly.

Upon entering Ghost's room, Maverick's breath caught in his throat. The sight of her hooked up to all the machines was too reminiscent of Carole being in the hospital. Had the steady beating of Ghost's heart monitor not been there, Maverick would've believed her already dead. Rooster had been wan, but Ghost... she might as well have been one, for the seasoned pilot had never seen anyone that shade of white before. No living person, at least.

"Shit," Hangman breathed, turning deathly pale. He sank onto the foot of her bed, hesitantly placing a gentle hand on her leg. Meanwhile, Maverick moved to her side, taking her good hand in his. It was cold to the touch. 

Charlie, Ice, Goose, Carole- if any of you are listening, help her pull through. Maverick prayed, his hand shaking in Ghost's. We're not ready to lose her. Please don't make her the first wingman Hangman loses. Don't make Rooster lose another person he loves. Don't make me lose my daughter before I've gotten the chance to know her as such. Please don't take her from us now.

"If she doesn't pull out of this..." Hangman began quietly, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "How did you do it? After Goose died, how did you keep flying?"

"I almost didn't," Maverick admitted, his mind involuntarily flashing back and comparing the events of today to those of the past and coming to a gut-wrenching realization that the past had a tendency to repeat itself in a sickening manner. Before, it had been a Mitchell holding a Bradshaw. This time, it'd been a Bradshaw holding a Mitchell. The only difference was that Ghost managed to cling to life, albeit barely. 

"What kept you going?" Hangman asked, his green eyes piercing Maverick's.

"I temporarily quit Top Gun, but Viper, Charlie, and Carole all had a part in convincing me to go back. Carole, Bradley, and Ice, in particular, helped me for the next few years after. Carole and Bradley, by providing a family I could come home to, and Ice, a friend who could ground me when I got reckless. They also reminded me that Goose wouldn't have wanted me to stop flying because of his death." Maverick sniffed, taking the opportunity to push down the rising lump in his throat. "He's with me every time I'm up in the air. He'll be with me to the day I die."

"I know we all lose a wingman at some point, but I don't want Ghost to be my Goose... I don't want to lose any of my wingmen, but her-"

"I know," Maverick said understandingly. 

A clattering in the doorway caused both men to jump. They whirled around to find Rooster barely standing and using the doorframe to support himself, his crutches sprawled on the floor. Noticing his son's sickly shade of green, Maverick rushed for the trash bin and put it in front of Rooster just before he hurled the little contents of his stomach.

"Damn it, Bradshaw," Hangman snapped, hurriedly grabbing a chair for the newcomer to sit in. He and Maverick lowered Rooster into it so he wouldn't hurt his back by collapsing down. "You shouldn't have gotten out of bed."

"You almost sound like you care, Seresin," Rooster jested weakly. He waved their worried hands away, eyes settling on Ghost. His joking demeanor evaporated instantly. "How is she?"

"Not good," Hangman said truthfully, sitting back down in his chair. "She's in critical condition. These next few hours will determine whether or not she's going to live."

"Bradley, you should be resting," Maverick said gently. "You should be back in bed. You're not helping her by over-exerting yourself."

Rooster hung his head, mumbling, "She won't want me here when she wakes up anyway. I'll leave."

He struggled to stand, and Hangman and Maverick both moved to assist him. Hangman slung Rooster's arm over his shoulders and said, "I'll take care of Bradshaw. Keep an eye on her. I-I can't right now."

Although Maverick hated to have Bradley out of his site, he hated the idea of leaving Ghost even more due to her state. "Thanks, Jake."

"You too, Pops."

Maverick smiled at the nickname, one he only allowed Hangman to call him. Then he settled into his chair and prepared for a long night watching over his daughter.

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina87 @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @copaceticwriter @rotating-obsessions @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @starshipfantasy @bennypears00 @avabobava @the-navistar-carol @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @carmellasworld @0hb0llocks @nicangelinee @summ3rlotus @3picklesinajar @magentamistress @the-other-hawkeye @elisha-chloe @emilymarie105 @persephone11110 @luckyladycreator2 @boogdleyboo @k0k3 @bibissparkles @lilmonstrjedi @stinkyrat09 @cocoag19 @suburbzchick @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goodstuff28 @georgiasimpson95 @horselovers2016 @tanithpriad125 @davidshawnsown @sowolfstudentme @agagafafa @callmemana @sec17 @brxklyn15 @h0ppy0the0sheep @tomanybandstolove @abigailannz @mini-bee-bee @super-btstrash-posts

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[suspicious-pools-of-blood]

Tag Game

I was tagged by @i-can-even-burn-salad.

Favorite video game: I really like Oblivion and Assassin's Creed; I'll go with AC: Revelations, the third game in the Ezio trilogy. Broadly speaking I think the Ezio games are the best in the series (though I haven't yet played past AC3), but Revelations is set in İstanbul so it's way more fun for me because I can check out all the places I've been irl, and sometimes random characters yell at you in Turkish which is really funny to me now that I can understand them.

Favorite video game character: Yusuf from Revelations because he looks kind of like my brother lmao

Favorite movie or TV series: Shocking absolutely nobody who has ever looked at my main blog, Xena: Warrior Princess.

Favorite movie or TV series character: Xena herself, no question

Hobbies: leatherworking, writing, sketching, rock climbing

Obsessions: Have I mentioned Xena yet? Because whenever I'm not thinking about my OCs, I'm thinking about Xena.

Favorite genre/type of background music for whump daydreams: Usually I listen to specific songs/playlists for my OCs, since my whump daydreams tend to be about specific characters. Genre is kind of all over the place, but tends to be the type of music I would describe as "vibes" (which I'm aware does not narrow it down at all, especially given I probably have a different definition of vibing music than most).

Favorite whump trope: Ough I'm supposed to just pick one?! OK not necessarily my favorite, but one I like a lot, is whumpees whose trauma turns them into whumpers. Cycles of abuse and whatnot.

Favorite whump pairing: Edit: whoops forgot to answer this one. Uhhh can I put my own OCs? Because if so, Elvan and Asenath; more broadly though any pairing where one person gets hurt and the other person goes feral in response, be it out of defense or revenge.

First time you experienced whumperflies: That scene in Disney's Aladdin where Alaadin is in a prison cell with his wrists shackled to the wall above his head. I haven't seen that movie since I was a very little kid but that's the one scene that stuck in my mind haha

Favorite whump scene from a piece of media: A couple scenes jump to mind from Xena. The first is actually from the show Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, of which Xena: Warrior Princess is a spin-off. The episode is called "The Gauntlet" and is one of the episodes that introduces Xena as a character. As the title implies, the climax of the episode is when Xena's general overthrows her and takes her army, and her own soldiers make her run the gauntlet. Joseph LoDuca has my entire heart and soul for the soundtrack in that scene, and the direction is fuckin impeccable. The other scene is from season 6 of Xena's own show, an episode titled "Who's Gurkhan?" in which (for various plot reasons I won't get into here) Xena and Gabrielle both separately sell themselves into slavery to a sultan; Gabrielle tries to assassinate the sultan but Xena sees her about to go for him and knocks her out cold, stealing the knife, so that they would think it was her instead of Gabrielle; she also plays it off as if she was attacking Gabrielle out of jealousy, rather than there being any threat to the sultan. Anyway the relevant bit is that Xena gets taken to the dungeons and tortured at length, mostly just getting the absolute shit beat out of her, including while being hung upside down by shackles on her ankles. 10/10 incredible whump tbh, while there she also hallucinates Gabrielle bellydancing in front of her because that show is gay as all fuck.

A book you would recommend, whump or not: I would highly recommend the historical fiction Lady Slayers series by Lana Popović! There are two books (so far); Blood Countess, about Erzsébet Báthory, and Poison Priestess, about Catherine Monvoisin. They're overtly queer and very very well written (and decently whumpy tbh).

Add your own question: Favorite whump scene from a book?

I'm leaving this as an open tag as usual; if you want to do it, consider yourself tagged!