#in conclusion; I love them your honour

[kanvaskat]

Sketch of a lil beastie from the MoTW campaign I'm currently running!

They're a Crocotta (or Leocrocotta), and the main monster of the week from the last session.

Just a lil guy trying to get by, practically like an alley fox, but with the added ability to mimic sounds (baby cries, dogs barking, human voices), much to the annoyance of the townspeople at night!

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

Developing Cirrus' personality more in the context of BG3 and realising how sweet these two are together. I made Cirrus as an "untouchable" devil who has a freeze response to unexpected physical contact to cope with shit that I went through in the past. I've healed and am doing much better but thinking about how these two would navigate intimacy is very sweet to me. For example: Astarion saunters over to Cirrus and slides his hand around her waist. "hello, beautiful" he purrs. But then he notices Cirrus is a million realms away. Her body perfectly still, her eyes staring into nothing, her tail is upright and twitching slightly. He removes his hand and turns to face her. "Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?" As quickly as it passes Cirrus composes herself and acts as if nothing happened. "Hm? Oh hello sweetheart! I didn't expect you haha" Cirrus says softly. "Darling I know a panicked reaction when I see one. Did I do something wrong?"

"I- I'm sorry. I just don't really like being touched out of the blue. It was fine when we both spent the night together and talked about it first but anything unexpected and I freeze up. I guess I just anticipate pain to follow"

"You don't need to be sorry darling. I understand believe me. Would you like me to ask you before I touch you?" Astarion asks.

"Yes, please. And the answer will almost always be yes, as soon as I know it's you doing it". Cirrus smiles. "Would you like me to ask you first before touching you as well?" "I-" Astarion pauses. "I would like that!" And just like that, the nice simple plan starts falling apart.

[somegrumpynerd]

Okay, now I can't stop thinking about Cross and Killer, bc as much as Killer could take Cross under his wing (and how good it is, I'm gonna have brainrot over your tags for weeks) it might go a totally different way, could you imagine? Nightmare brings home a new recruit. Why though? Wasn't Killer doing a good enough job already? Why does this goody two shoes perfect soldier have to come in Killer's home and take all of Nightmare's attention?

He could feel replaced, especially since I think Cross would be very serious and closed off when he joins, he's a professional everything Killer isn't with his sharp edges and jokes, then it'd be more like an enemy to friends situation, where Cross doesn't understand why Killer's giving him so much shit and Killer needs to learn more about Cross to chill out

Anywayyyyy I love those two :3

Asdkugjdjgsj are you inside my brain I love this!!!

Like 100% Killer feels replaced, or at the very least like it's competition (I wanna do a whole thing for my truce au about this being how he was when Dust joined) and maybe by the time Cross comes along he's chilled out to the idea that Nightmare just likes building a team and Killer's still his favourite. Or maybe Cross is just a bit too close to his own position for comfort. Dust and Horror follow orders sure, but Killer is the one who does it fastest and the best. When Nightmare says jump, Killer's the one who asks how high. Killer is his right hand, so why does he need a left?

Maybe he falls right back into that mindset that he has to prove he's better, so he starts trying to show Cross up. Except Cross just joined, he's only known a demanding perfectionist father and harsh royal guard training, so he has to be the best. He doesn't know how to settle, so he competes with Killer right back, he has to impress Nightmare to prove he's worth keeping around! And it just falls further and further out of control until they're fighting in the castle when there is no mission, just because they both have something to prove.

(Catch Nightmare seperating them like a teacher breaking up a playground fight lol)

Maybe Nightmare says no more jobs for either of them until they can work together like a team, which makes both of them antsy because Killer needs to have a purpose and Cross has never had permission to just exist. His castle probably gets half destroyed in the meantime but maybe they finally just talk, see where the other is coming from and that there's enough room for both of them on the team (I had a more elaborate thing written out but this is already too long I'm sorry I didn't realise I had so many Killer and Cross thoughts in my head lol).

[eldenringslut]

There’s an interesting piece of DLC lore I don’t think I’ve seen anyone discuss in detail yet. Namely that Freyja and Jerren both want what’s best for Radahn, but each have very different ideas of what that entails.

Both of them consider Radahn’s death at your hands to be a good and honourable one. But upon learning of Miquella’s plans, Frejya says this:

She seems to fully buy into the image Radahn portrays of being a warrior who lives and thrives in war. And to some extent she’s correct, with Radahn modelling himself after Godfrey (a warlord and conquerer) and even attempting to invade Leyndell during the Shattering Wars.

Jerren on the other hand, would rather Radahn be left in peace after being given an honourable death. The description of Jerren’s helmet reads:

The wording here is very important, implying both a very close relationship between Radahn and Jerren (which is also supported by how intimately Jerren speaks about Radahn) and that Radahn himself wished for an honourable death. This means that Radahn’s preferences likely align more with Jerren’s than with Freyja’s, and that he never wanted to be revived as Miquella’s consort.

One could still argue that Radahn simply wished to have an honourable death before becoming consort, but I think that doesn’t make much sense. If he were willing, it seems strange and convuluted that Radahn would ask to be killed in battle before becoming Lord rather than just becoming Lord immediately.

Additionally, the story makes more thematic sense if Radahn is brainwashed. Remember, Fromsoftware loves to give characters ironic or contrary fates. Radahn represents stagnation. He holds the stars and fate in stasis, styles himself in reference to past Elden Lords and refuses to leave his scrawny horse despite how cruel it is for him to still ride his sickly steed.

In the base game, this is brought to an ironic conclusion with him being infected by the scarlet rot, a more literal representation of stagnation and decay. But the DLC takes it even further. Ironically given his goal of bringing about a new Age of Compassion, Miquella too is unable to move on from the past. He clings to his (probably one sided) vow with Radahn and forces him to become his consort.

The God of a new age unable to let go of the past, and a Lord of stagnation forced to participate in bringing about a new era. These fates are the height of dramatic irony, and honestly I think Fromsoftware’s only mistake here was not foreshadowing it enough in the base game beforehand.

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[currymanganese]

to continue my rambling in the tags...

Maybe Manny was a former boxer, Gary is a former athlete again, maybe Angel knows Taekwondo, what if Syd's capacity to stab someone, accidentally or not, comes back up again, what if Jimmy really has some mafia connections and has hired toughs, what if Marcus used to play American Football.....What if Nat is not above getting her vendetta against Francie out in blood? 👁️👄👁️

What if they recreate a big Ballbreaker Brawl on the show between The Found Family at the Bear and the most ornery and stubborn/violent and ignorant of the Angry Faks IRL at The Bear when they try to come break his balls for Claire? and after The Bear crew absolutely shellacks the Faks and sends them packing they trudge off to the ER and Claire has to patch them up while furiously berating them, because she's actually not that bad of a person to sanction the Faks actions and does in fact take her Hippocratic oath seriously; they way she stared at Neil and Ted in the hospital told me she had buyer's remorse about ever involving them in her love life / may have realized she shouldn't have Called Carmy in that way by getting his number from Fak, but I digress.

Both parties decide not to involve law enforcement and pursue charges against each other because at the end of the day, the Faks are pseudo family, and they were in the wrong anyway and Jimmy's people aren't narcs, because he has enough skeletons in his closet and doesn't want coppers poking around the place, thank you very much.....But what if on that day, that great day, when Carmy's balls failed to break, and his cock nevermore shall be blocked, he and Sydney get their happy ending and the Faks finally learn boundaries and learn when to fucking stop?

Mikey would be so proud, smiling down on them from heaven 'n shit. 💘🥹

P.S. What if the Ballbreaker Challenge Brawl IRL Edition happens when the Faks try to crash their wedding and beat Carmy tf up? It'd be so cathartic to see The Bear crew go postal on them (except Neil and maybe Ted because they seem harmless / to genuinely like Carmy) and the rest of the Faks, i.e. Sammy and Francie et. al are all played by pro wrestlers because they're from an old wrestling dynasty in-story???? By then the general audience would be so fed up of the Faks it'd be fanservice to see Carmy and co tan their hides and literally Shoo out the Clowns. 😭😭.

@thoughtfulchaos773 @ciaomarie @devisrina @moodyeucalyptus @caiusmarciuscoriolanus @post-woke @whenmemorydies @brokenwinebox

I'm so sorry.

Sure I'm delusional but the Claire thing this season read like it represented an addiction to me. He cut Claire cold turkey like he cut cigarettes. Children of addicts can sometimes take the personality traits of addicts. The first episode showsClaire taking an inhale of Carmy's cigarette and cuts to Carmy (without being prompted mind you) to apologize to Sydney. Carmy promises he won't abandon her but that's a lie when he shows he's still thinking about Claire and still distracted by his addiction.

He spends his time painstakingly thinking about Chef David and Claire throughout the season. I wonder why Carmy can't say sorry to Claire and move on? Mind you Natalie called Carmy spending time with her 'moderately' healthy.

I'm still back and forth on he Claire thing coming to conclusion in 3x09 APologies, this episode is the most syd/claire/carmy triangle of the season with a love song as Carmy and SYdney ponder. 3x09 also opened up with a narrator who talks about film and reading between the lines as well as deceiving the audience. Since we're in carmy's brain, is he deceiving himself with Claire? Is Carmy self-sabotaging his relationship with Sydney throughout the show's core story?

At the end of 3x09, Carmy takes the prayer card from Mikey's funeral and reads it, and when he puts it down, it's next to Claire's scrunchie- which eventually blurs. In the back of the card is Psalm 23, and interestingly enough, there's a book that exists called Psalm 23: the cure to addiction.

[sainamoonshine]

So I know the entire narrative in The Locked Tomb is like « oh ahaha Babs, what a loser » but I genuinely think that there might be something really interesting about him. Babs was the only person in the whole galaxy to know about Ianthe and Corona’s secret. And I’m starting to think that as much of a natural asshole he is, at least 50% of what we see of him in GtN is acting.

Let me explain: he is obviously in puppy love with Corona, and dismissive of Ianthe when Corona is looking. But privately, he is terrified of her. He knows she’s his necromancer and NOT Corona; this is proven when the Second challenges the Sixth, and Corona wants to intervene but Ianthe says no. Ianthe is 100% certain that Babs will do as she says, but Corona is actually surprised. And when he finds Corona duelling Gideon, he is scared and tells her that he will not tell Ianthe. I think Ianthe probably threatened him behind Corona’s back one time or a dozen. And I think Babs isn’t just protecting their secret, he might be trying to protect Corona from Ianthe’s anger too. Being the annoying go-between, the butt of the joke, the meat shield. On purpose.

Pay close attention to when he’s being a contrary asshole for no reason. A lot of it seems to come naturally to him, sure. But also: when Jeannemary finds the human ash and asks for Corona of all people to help her identify the deceased: he immediately redirects attention by being a mega-asshole. Corona ends up not having to do any necromancy; her secret is still safe. Similarly, later on in Dulcinea’s sick room, when everyone is having a discussion about necromancy: he makes a tetchy comment, prompting Corona to whisk him away like ‘oh ahah he’s getting hangry’. How familiar is this routine for them?

I think deep down, while he’s an arrogant dickhead, Babs isn’t evil. He’s shocked and appalled that Silas went and took Dulcinea’s keys, and I don’t think it’s because he wishes he thought of it first, as Jeannemary accuses. I think he genuinely thinks that’s dishonourable. And when Corona tries to stand up for the Sixth and Ianthe says no, Babs follows her order, but is pissed about it.

But hold on, you might say to me, five minutes later HE is the one to issue a challenge to the Sixth!! Yeah, after a tense stare-off with his necromancer. After, perhaps, coming to some conclusions of his own about the Third house’s chances regarding the key situation. Ianthe herself says to Corona: you need a facility key. This is your only chance. Might be that Babs figured something similar!

When Harrow answers the call, his face is frozen in a look that’s both cautious but trying to look though. When Jeannemary jumps on the table, he immediately backs out. Without waiting for Ianthe to call him off. He tries to play it off, but Babs is pretty consistent on NOT wanting to fight the teenager.

In conclusion: the dude is a dick but I think he’s got honour and he is stuck between a rock and a very hard place. AND he fights Ianthe after the lyctoral process for a surprising and impressive long time!

Also: lmao when he jumps off the table he mutters ‘should have just stayed home and gotten married’. Okay??? Babs what’s that about? 👀

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hey murphy!! i saw that you’re still accepting or going forth with your 3k celebration, so curiosity struck me…

could i order a rum with bucky barnes?

(i wanna hear some headcannons you got for this man. i can’t help but ask! but ofc if you’re too busy with honey girl chapter 5 i totally get it, i hope all is well and take care of yourself darling ❤️)

Bucky Barnes Headcanons.

warnings - sexual content.

my love, thank you for this!! if anyone agrees/disagrees or has any thoughts on these, please feel free to discuss/send them to my inbox. <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

- I think Bucky wants a simple life. Definitely appreciates the little things. I think he'd thrive in a 'regular' job - working weekdays, weekends off, probably something physical/manual. Maybe a small town, away from the city. The man needs a break.

- The most observant lover/partner. Because he's always kind of 'on guard', he notices everything. Can and will read you like a book.

- Would definitely use/benefit from therapy eventually. I know he didn't like it in TFATWS, but I think after those events, his eyes open a little. Learns the importance of communication and tries his best.

- Doesn't want children. Between the whole super soldier age thing and the trauma, I don't believe he's ever going to want kids. Marriage is definitely on the cards, though. He'd look handsome in a tux.

- He'd definitely benefit from a pet of some kind. I know he has Alpine in the comics, but I do think a dog would benefit him. Not a puppy, but a rescue. Something he can focus his attention on, it offers comfort, gets him out the house a couple of times a day.

- It'd take some time, but once he lets his guard down again, his love language is touch. Touches you all the damn time. His hand on your back, your hips, in your back pocket. Linking his fingers with yours whenever you're close enough. Fiddling with your hair. Kissing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth whenever you give him the chance.

and now onto the sexy stuff...

- I have a firm belief that this man is filthy. Fucks like he's feral. Sweaty, dirty, we're-definitely-going-to-hell type sex.

- I think after he's worked through some of his trauma, he's using that metal arm. The temperature play? He's into it. He likes to watch you gasp. Shiver. Shake.

- He's a grabber. He's so strong, he's leaving bruises wherever he's got a hold of you. Hips, ass, wrists. He'll apologise, at first. Later, he won't.

- Likes his hair pulled. Hard. Likes to toe the line between pain and pleasure. He likes that edge. Likes it when you bite him. Loves when you scratch your nails down his skin.

- Thrives on intimacy. Loves to be skin to skin with you. Wants every part of himself to be plastered to every part of you. Presses your foreheads together, swallows your moans straight into his mouth. Puts his mouth next to your ear so you get a front row seat to the delicious sounds he makes.

in conclusion, he's perfect, your honour.

please feel free to send me any opinions on these!! agree, disagree, expand.. if you send me a thought (feel free to get dirty ;)) I'll always expand and maybe write a little for it... <3

[buddierecs]

post season 7 buddie fics

in honour of season 8 coming out in a few days, here is a list of fics that have been released over the hiatus set post season 7. all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :) also i have tried to avoid the infidelity tag in this list which is hard bc there is a lot of them but if you are interest in that check out these posts: this and this :)

eddie, enraged and envious by: songbvrd "eddie goes through the stages of grief watching buck and tommy together and gets progressively more unhinged as his jealousy builds." word count: 23k important tags: jealous!eddie diaz, slow burn, idiots to lovers, feelings realisation, pre-relationship, panic attacks, mild smut tell you my sins (sharpen your knife) by: symphonysoldier97 "eddie confesses to buck, fucks a priest, and finds his way—not necessarily in that order." word count: 22k important tags: minor eddie diaz/hot priest, getting together, love confessions, jealous!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz, service top!evan buckley, church sex the wayward son (pls read tags and notes before reading) by: brewrosemilk "eddie misses his son, grows a mustache, pines after his best friend, and becomes a regular at a gay sex club. that last part is either an indulgence or an inevitable, somewhat self-destructive conclusion to several decades worth of compulsory heterosexuality and catholic guilt. don’t ask him which." word count: 56k important tags: sexuality crisis, catholic guilt, self-discovery, healing, misunderstandings, group sex, anonymous sex, blow jobs, barebacking, exhibitionism the cat's meow by: 42hrb "eddie adopts a cat and let's himself have good things." word count: 4.2k important tags: cat owner!eddie diaz, love confessions, hand jobs i will eat you alive (there'll be no more lies) by: bxbierat "the slutification of eddie diaz's mustache, courtesy of buck." word count: 8.1k important tags: pre-relationship, drunk sex, dry humping, frottage hand jobs, motorboating, body worship i've got your back by: sammyunhinged a very slow burn fic chronicling the progress of buck and eddie's relationship, buck's parenting journey, and eddie learning to accept himself, in which buck gets injured in an accident and he moves in with eddie and christopher. word count: 110k important tags: slow burn, falling in love, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, coming out, friends to lovers, minor buck/tommy, eventual smut my home is your body by: coldbam "buck and eddie have vastly different nights at pride. then very similar summers." word count: 16k important tags: minor buck/original male characters, minor eddie/original male characters, friends with benefits, getting together, jealous!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz, top!evan buckley chase the pain (i'd do it again) by: buckalmighty "eddie keeps kissing buck while they’re drunk and buck kinda can’t stop thinking about it" word count: 10k important tags: idiots in love, drunk kissing, pre-relationship, hurt!evan buckley, getting together, dom/sub, dom!eddie diaz, sub!evan buckley, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz, anal sex i go crazy, see red (series) by: coldbam "this is a disconnected series of one-shots that all have the same theme: unhinged, jealous buck." word count: 23k important tags: jealous!evan buckley, infidelity, love confessions, friends to lovers, blow jobs, bottom!eddie diaz, top!evan buckley, rimming

[tkaulitzlvr]

Hiii so I've been holding onto this idea for a while and like, thought it would look so good in ur style of writing🫶🏻

Reader and tom are extremely close friends 🫣

Reader is like sleeping in her bed and like her eyes flicker open and she sees a massive spider yk on her pillow 😍 so she gets a fright but tried being quiet. Her hotel room and Tom's hotel room were joined together, so she opened the door that separated the two rooms and she walks inside. She goes over to Tom and like lightly shakes him awake. He wakes up and asks her what's wrong and she says what happened. She asks him if she can sleep in his bed for the night and he's hesitant but he says yes. She gets in his bed and and after a little while, alot of smut 🥰

I love you and ur stories so much!! 🤍

SCARED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: there is an unwanted guest in your hotel room, so you decide to share a room with your best friend, the outcome something neither of you ever expected.

content: fluff & smut.

a/n: honoured u chose me for this request🙏 i hope i did it justice, thank you for requesting!!

my eyes were slowly beginning to close, after what felt like hours of trying to fall asleep, tossing and turning, trying out multiple positions, coming to the conclusion that this is one of the most uncomfortable hotel beds i had ever slept in.

tom had been snoring obnoxiously loud in the room next door for at least an hour, falling asleep soon after he had said goodnight to me, the loud snores emitting from his mouth not helping, his door slightly ajar, no light coming through it.

turning on my side as my eyes are almost shut, i spot something round and black on the corner of my pillow. assuming it is just my imagination, my lethargy making me see things, proving to me how much i really need to sleep, i ignore it. but then it moves. my eyes shoot open, now alert and my mouth opens in horror, seeing the huge spider standing on my pillow, crawling quickly across it. i shriek, jumping out of bed and standing on a nearby chair in the corner of the room, quickly covering my mouth as i worry about waking tom. it begins to move across the sheets, until it slips underneath them, now out of sight.

“fuck fuck fuck!” i whisper, standing on the chair, afraid to move, not having any idea what to do, not wanting to step onto the floor, or anywhere, let alone kill it, my arachnophobia kicking in, spiders, or any insect in fact, always being my biggest fear. my eyes slowly move to tom’s door, trying to peer inside, the gap too small, but i soon come to the realisation that my choices are limited, and if i want to get any sleep tonight, then it will have to be in his room.

it wasn’t that i was worried it would be awkward - tom and i were really close, having known each other since we could walk, our friendship only blossoming from that point. we had never slept in the same bed, though, and i was a little reluctant to ask him, but, as the large spider re-emerges from the sheets, i dart from the chair to his room, creaking the door open and closing it behind me, worried that the spider will find its way into his bedroom.

the room is dark, hard for me to make out anything, but the minimal light through the small gap in the curtains, allows me to spot tom’s sleeping body. his chest is bare, he never slept with a shirt on, rising up and down slowly, quiet snores coming from his parted lips. i feel bad for disturbing him, but i have no other choice, creeping around to the side of the bed he is sleeping on and grabbing his shoulders, gently shaking him awake.

“tom? hey, wake up.” i whisper, trying to be as gentle as i can, knowing he won’t appreciate the 3am wake up call. he stirs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.

“tom!” i hiss, a little louder this time, watching his eyes slowly flutter open, his eyebrows furrowing once he sees that i am standing at the side of his bed.

“what are you doing here? you okay?” he yawns, his voice raspy and full of sleep as he sits up, flicking the bedside lamp on and rubbing his eyes, adjusting to the light.

“there’s a really big spider in my room.” i say, tom giving me an irritated look, clearly not impressed with my excuse for waking him up.

“really? what, you want me to go in and kill it for you?” he asks, moving the covers off of him, revealing the only item of clothing he is wearing, a pair of baggy shorts.

“i don’t know where it went.” i pause, a little anxious to ask him what i actually wanted. “can i just sleep with you for the night?”

he hesitates a little, pursing his lips together. “i can just kill it-”

“please tom? i really don’t want to go back in there, you know how much i hate spiders.” i plead, studying the way his face softens as he gives in, getting back under the covers.

“fine, get in.” he says, opening the sheets for me at the other side as i climb in, resting my head on the covers whilst he shuts the light off, leaving us in the dark.

“i bet the spider wasn’t even that big.” tom laughs, breaking the silence as i turn to face him, laying flat on his back as i am, little distance between us, but enough to stop someone making assumptions if they were to walk in.

“it was! i saw it crawl across my pillow, i wouldn’t have woken you if it was small.” i defend, a smile creeping onto my face as he returns it, my eyes falling to his lips.

“pfft, you know that’s not true, remember when we were kids? you screamed at the top of your lungs, and the spider was literally this big!” he teases, making a tiny circle with his thumb and pointer finger, laughing as i roll my eyes.

“so what i’m scared of bugs? it’s like the most common fear in the world, give me a break.” i sigh sarcastically, tom putting his hands in the air in defense, muttering a small ‘okay okay’, before letting the room return to its previous silence.

my mouth falls open as a yawn escapes from it, my body falling further under the covers as i get comfortable, ready to fall asleep.

“goodnight.” i say, closing my eyes.

“night.” tom mutters, his limbs spread across the bed, giving me little space, but i didn’t mind, enjoying his company, even though we weren’t speaking. the silence was nice, comforting even, tom and i so close that we didn’t have to make conversation, able to sit quietly beside each other without it being awkward.

his arm slings loosely around my waist as he shuffles a little closer, his head so close to mine i feel his calm breathing against my neck, my body tensing up a little at the unexpected touch. we were best friends, but never really got physically close to each other besides from hugging, definitely not doing anything like this.

“this okay?” he asks, not wanting to push any boundaries, making sure i was comfortable with it, this the first time we have ever done anything even close to cuddling, the idea never crossing my mind as i didn’t see romance in him - only a friend, at least not until now.

“yeah, of course.” i manage to say, clearly nervous, not expecting him to want to be this close to me after he was so hesitant about letting me sleep in his bed.

“you sure?” he asks, sensing the uncertainly in my response.

“mhm.” i say, relaxing my body a little as i melt into his embrace, loosening up and feeling a sense of security that i had never experienced before.

i turn my head to the side, facing him as my eyes open slowly, seeing his already staring into mine. the look on his face is foreign, the light from the curtains illuminating his features so that i can just make out his expression. his lips are parted, slow breaths emitting from them. and his eyes, the look in them is hard to decipher, soft yet concentrated, studying my features as they repeatedly flicker from my eyes to my lips, the brown pools filled of a look similar to one of admiration, love even. he is hard to read, my mind trying to figure out what he is thinking as i continue to look into his eyes, the pit of my stomach swelling in nervousness.

but, before i can buy myself more time to try fathom the complex system that is his emotions, he fits the puzzle pieces together for me, attaching his lips to mine. my eyes widen in shock, his mouth gently moving against mine. his hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer to him. i slowly begin to relax, kissing him back as i feel him smile against my lips, my arms resting behind his neck.

our lips move in sync, fitting together perfectly, moulding in a way that echoes our love for each other, one that we always thought to be strictly platonic. but the way he holds me so gently, with so much care that i could break if he applies pressure, carries the unspoken yet completely mutual realisation that this is way more than just a friendship - and the certainty of our kiss meaning we can never go back from this.

he slowly moves on top of me, not breaking the kiss, his hands cupping my face as his thumbs smooth over my cheeks, the skin turning a light shade of red at his touch. the kiss becomes a little more heated, not yet messy, the passion reciprocated between us as neither us want to pull away, addicted to the feeling, silently wondering how and why it has taken us so long to get to this point, wishing we had done this earlier. yet the way i deepen the kiss, tom holding me with so much love it is palpable even through the heavy air, makes me feel as if i have held him like this for years, us being like this seeming so natural, so right.

his hands reach for the hem of my t-shirt, stopping briefly and breaking the kiss for the first time.

“are you sure about this? we don’t have to.” he says, staring into my eyes, his eyes full of concern, showing me all the patience in the world as he studies my features, a small smile tugging at his lips, both of us breathless.

“i want to.” i say, holding his face in my hands, nodding my head slowly, giving him more reassurance as he still looks a little uncertain. but he soon relaxes once i reconnect our lips, his hands carefully lifting my shirt up and over my head, breaking the kiss to stare at my body, my top half now bare as i wasn’t wearing a bra.

i begin to feel insecure as his eyes scan my figure, instinctively covering my breasts with my hands. he tilts his head, shaking his head a little before placing his hands over mine, interlocking them so that they are no longer covering me, my body now exposed to him.

“don’t cover yourself. you’re so perfect, i want to see it all baby.” the pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally, so smoothly as if he had been calling me it for years, this entire situation feeling so right, the way he looks at me with such admiration confirming that we are meant to be like this, destined to be intimate with one another.

his head moving to the crook of my neck, planting small pecks there, low whines escaping my lips when he hits my sweet spot, teeth grazing the area, i take this as an opportunity to attach my fingers to the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down as far as i can. he sees that i am struggling, placing one final kiss to my neck before pulling them down past his feet, his boxers soon following, leaving him completely naked, the only physical barrier between us being my shorts, tom noticing this.

he reattaches his lips to mine, gently kissing me whilst looping his fingers around the material, pulling them down, along with my panties, throwing the clothing somewhere onto the carpet, nothing but the thick air, filled with our unspoken love for each other, between us, our nakedness a mirror to the desire that takes over.

his forehead rests against mine, his inconsistent breathing tickling my cheeks. i feel him position himself at my entrance, his eyes looking into mine, searching for any uncertainty within them, hating the idea of pressuring me into doing anything. i nod, sensing his apprehension, putting any doubts he has to bed.

“i’ll be gentle, i promise.”

those are the last words he says before sliding into me, my walls stretching with his thickness, pain soon clouding my senses as i wince a little, grabbing onto his arm and squeezing the flesh, signalling for him to stop his movements. he senses my discomfort, taking my hands in his and using his thumbs to stroke the skin gently.

“i’m so sorry. i promise it won’t hurt for long.” he whispers against my lips, giving me a short kiss, his eyes never breaking away from mine as he waits for any signal, any sign that the pain has subsided.

i begin to become accustomed to the feeling, ready for him to carry on, his dick still not fully inside me. i squeeze his hands, letting out a small ‘move’, as he nods his head, kissing my forehead and continuing to slide into me, a strained moan escaping from his lips.

my eyes fall shut, pleasure soon taking over as he said it would, my mouth falling open as he bottoms out, our chests moving in and out, in sync with one another.

“keep going.” i breathe out, wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper into me.

he quickly obeys, moving in and out of me slowly, going gentle as he promised, the pace just right as i can feel every inch of him inside of me. small moans escape from my mouth, tom placing his head into my neck once again, planting open-mouthed kisses onto my collarbone, my hands threading through his dreads, savouring the feeling of him inside me, knowing that i will never experience anything else like it, our bodies fitting together so perfectly, moving in a way that seems too good to be true - the way he hits all the right places sending me into heaven, my mind questioning wether i am there already.

“you’re doing so good baby, so good.” he praises, his words muffled into my shoulder, his hands now roaming my body, feeling anywhere that he can manage to touch, his pace increasing slightly as he works towards his release, still making sure he doesn’t hurt me.

his skin resembling pure silk, smooth and soft, each muscle crafted by god itself, tensing and relaxing as he moves in and out of me, concentrating on nothing but the pleasure i am feeling, his face now inches away from mine.

a knot starts to form in my stomach, signalling that i am close. my legs tighten their hold on his waist, allowing him to move into me even deeper than he was, hitting a whole new angle as i cry out in pleasure, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. tom watches my expression, acknowledging the way my face twists in contentment when he moves at a certain angle, now doing it repeatedly, my release close.

i try to verbalise it, but my ability to produce coherent sentences is long gone, my mouth uttering a small ‘so close’, tom nodding his head as his eyebrows knit together.

“i know baby, i know. me too.” he sighs, kissing me messily as our lips collide together, the cold metal of his lip ring contrasting with his warm hold on me.

he snaps his hips once more, this enough to push me over the edge as i release, my mouth falling in an ‘o’, shape, no sounds escaping from it despite the millions of thoughts rushing through my head.

after a few more sloppy thrusts, i feel tom shoot his cum inside of me, throwing his head back with a loud groan, riding out our highs before collapsing breathlessly on top of me, stroking my hair with his shaky hands, our heavy breathing sounding throughout the now silent room.

he pulls out, our juices dripping down my legs as i whine at the loss of contact. he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around me, bringing me into his inviting embrace, kissing my lips softly.

“i love you. i’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realise, but i really am in love with you.” he whispers, his hand sitting comfortably at my lower back, the other tucking any loose strands of hair behind my ears.

“i love you too.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[circeius-invidioso]

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

[mudkirby]

Pebbles In order of appearance.

@druidshollow lore lore lore Dune lore lore

@flickering-nightfall whole reason I draw Pebbles the way I do since first exposure

@toxictoxicities b u f f

@dennis7231 still waiting on them dropwigs >:)

@weepinglilvessel ant snooooot

@mudkirby me :> 🔫

@shkika love your Suns

@northflowerowo Sorry I shoved him so far down lol

Honourable mentions/ shout outs: @trashiiplant Howwow Knight and Wainwowld :D

@kelnexia is lurking.

@daszombes Thank you for explaining lore, giving us peak story telling and characters to simp for in the form of the Iterator Logs. What? No Pebbles? Don't care. You're on here now.

Druid's Hollow, the first time I ever saw your YouTube channel was with the Distant Frontier video after just having gotten into Iterator Logs. One of the most pivotal pieces of media you've made in my life was God- Jake Daniels. That single video alone gave me the push I needed to make my first Rainworld oc Parting Clouds. The stories surrounding your characters (and Dune) are creative beyond my ability to write stories. Keep up your top tier memery.

Flickering Nightfall, I'ma put this in a nutshell. Duckdance. After that I found your blog via Google before I made a Tumblr and became enthralled by your content. From something as obscure to me as Infinity Train to Pebbles ragdolling, you were essentially my gateway into liking Iterators. I love the purple. I need moar.

Vic, b u f f I haven't known your blog long and was introduced to you through the My Goodbye animation. Since I was sort of entirely new to Rainworld at that point, I had no idea what was happening. I just saw a well drawn thing and went "oooooo". I'm all for Suns' antenna twitches and NSH box head. Also, body pillow 💀

Dennis, one of the first blogs I found when I first started Tumblr. I found you through the @iterator-ask-blog and found bullying Pebbles hilarious. I love the way you draw the yellow things on his head and I just appreciate that you do digital in general. I do not, will not and proceeds to die if I must. I've seen quick progress with your art style as well. Keep going.

Vessel, I barely know you. Who da heck are ye? I saw your art style once and knew I needed to follow. The way you draw Pebbles and Moon are so satisfying to stare at for minutes and I had way too much fun replicating that s n o o t. I don't know what you're up to with them aside from chaos. Murky Seas' story and design are fantastic. RIP

Shkika, I only found you through the @ask-looks-to-the-moon blog and love the way you draw the Iterators. It's very stylistic without straying too far. The three fingered hands to the goofy faces Moon expresses makes me smile. B a l l s. My Suns design was more so inspired by the way you make him as you were somehow the first Suns exposure. You're the only reason I can't see him without fluff. How did you make Pebbles cute kavvkatkcfadal

Northflowo, way back in 2022 in my first exposure to Hollow Knight, I found your channel through the Baby Mantis skin video with Nosk along with the lore in a nutshell video. Any other content I saw I forgor. In any case, your channel was there in my search for knowledge on that game. Fast-forward to the near conclusion of 2023 when I was first introduced to Rainworld. In my hunt for memes and more knowledge, I found the other lore in a nutshell video and realized you were the perfect channel for me as you had plenty of other content on that subject. Your art still manages to astound me, especially with the shot you did in the map Pliocene and the Warrior Cats redraws like with the waterfall. I'm trash at drawing backgrounds and might learn something from you.

And of great importance to me, @bornt-urnge/@zigmatism

@kitterjitters /@offended-dragon

Thank you for every moment of drawing from Pokemon to Kirby to Mire (oc) and anything else. You have made some of the largest impacts on my life, drawing, game choices and I've enjoyed every moment. I want to have more ridiculous sessions like that in the future and look forward to it.

Some of you have been around in my life for some time and others I've just found. All the same, every single art piece you've made has inspired me no matter how polished, memed or "trash". All of you have made an impact on me, no matter how miniscule. I look forward to the future with anticipation for all of your art. Have a terrific year, and with my deepest gratitude, thank you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading this.

[fantasy-nerdddd]

Just wondering how did Snow think that it'd be a great idea to have Peeta describe how it feels to be in the arena.

Certainly the first interview wasn't live. Katniss came to that conclusion because five days later Peeta was way too gaunt and hardshipped for it to have been only 5 days.

Still, Snow chose to show one of the fan favourite Victors that is known for being a goddamn god in PR how it is to be in the arena.

Not only that, when Peeta started describing how it was to be in there, Snow didn't mind what he said. Snow could have easily make him say that it was an honour or shit like that. And if one person could handle convincing a nation that they wanted to get into an arena to die, it'd be Peeta.

But Peeta didn't tell them any of that. Instead, he talked about feeling trapped in an arena. How there was this giant clock for an arena, and every single minute could have been his last. How in the past 48 hours 2/3 of the competition had died. How he knew that in the next 24 everyone's would be dead or crowned Victor twice. And you hope it won't be you but your district partner.

This alone could have said something more. That people in the Districts care about people. Maybe even fall in love. They're humans. So when he started talking about how killing humans takes away your humanity, it's subtly blaming the Capitol. For making every tribute go into the the Games.

Why did Snow let him say all of that? If I were him, I'd turn it off the moment he said the word trapped

[lyramundana]

Just listened to "Want it so BAD", the new song by Han and Lee Know and, after reading the lyrics twice, let me tell you:

If there's still people who claim they're just friends, I'll lose my faith in humanity. Those guys are the real delulu here because what the fuck? With this song they basically confirmed everything we've heard since debut and screamed to the world they're, in fact, very much in love and not in a platonic way. They're married, your honour. This song basically confirms it, it states firmly and without a shadow of doubt that MINSUNG is fucking REAL and it has been since the survival show.

So for all those who don't agree with it, go argue with the wall. Us, the minsung whores and defenders, are going to fucking celebrate this gift to humanity.

Now lets focus on the parts where they specifically mention their first meeting, something we've heard from both of them in skz episodes, but now the uncensored version.

Minho: "I fell in love with you unexpectedly, couldn't get any work done, so many thoughts in my head keep me awake at night, spring snuck into my heart and left me frozen with excitement, i'm not used to it i know it's pain but i really want it so BAD" 😭😭😭😭😭 this is so minsung pre-debut coded omg, he's so fucking cute in the early states of love. knowing he was going to suffer but he loved him so much he just kept going.

Jisung: "Ride, come closer, just the two of us"🥺🥺 "together we make a whole romantic comedy movie" "let's get is started, getting anxious, can't think straight" "love you, i wanna place mysef in a spot next to you" "i'll hold you tight and say i've always been waiting for this moment" "the moment I first saw you, it was meant to be. For me, it's you"💀💀💀💀💀my man wasn't even being subtle here, he didn't try

In conclusion: Minsung is more real and solid that my parents' marriage and anyone who disagrees please come and kiss my ass. thank you❤

[sassykinzonline]

ok i saw the post you guys meant when you were asking about platonic SNS aka "SNS should be platonic because that makes it selfless", heres what i'll say (some of these sort of rehash the ask, but with a more direct rebuttal to the specific point):

the manga explicitly shows how various types of love (platonic, familial, professional, romantic, sexual) can be "imperfect", therefore, the manga rejects the idea that one sort of love is implicitly "correct" or "selfless" or whatever ontological good you want to attach to the love of your choice

action/shounen's propensity to pose the love interest as the "reward" for the hero's journey not only doesnt apply to SNS (nor the naruto manga from an SNS lens), but this is also another example of attaching an ontological idea that is irrelevant to a concept. tropes are not what define a genre nor a story archetype, theyre simply a common device used within these things. for example, the "heroine as a reward" trope for the hero may be a device used to exemplify success, honour, or nobility. it likely stems from cultural patriarchal norms where what was "desirable" was a "brave" man with deeds to his name. the point of this trope is likely to inspire a reader to emulate the hero, thinking that they will also ~get the girl at the end of their "journey". but the trophy doesnt have to be the girl. the trophy can be riches. the trophy can be a title. the trophy can be peace itself. it can be all those things. why? because the core of a hero's journey is literally the hero's journey, how and why they get from point A to point B and what the effects of that are. and thats typically how you choose what trophy to give your hero at the end.

the naruto manga subverts this trope by making the "journey" the feelings themselves: do you have them, how to express them, are they enough, are they even appropriate to have, what does the other person feel, what can be done about that? thats why i said the trope doesnt exactly apply to SNS. by making the journey about the feelings, the "reward" of the heroine at the end is no longer a patriarchal holdover but a logical conclusion to a conflict. this is why i joke that naruto the manga works better as a YA novel from the twilight/hunger games era, because typically those kinds of books have room for this kind of complexity. this is also why "sasuke" is not primarily an antagonist, he is a deuteragonist. he is tangentially going through the same journey as naruto, he is not running counter to naruto's journey intentionally.

even if you wont agree that the feelings are the journey, and instead the journey is becoming hokage or uniting the shinobi world or whatever, by definition naruto's feelings have to change for the journey to be possible. otherwise theres no point in the journey, hed be able to be hokage at the start of the manga and everyone would agree on that despite him being weak. there is a reason why naruto's power-ups also come with some sort of emotional lesson, and that emotional lesson is what gets people on his side. every arc in the manga is naruto has to do something -> naruto has an idea -> someone tells him that his idea is immature -> he trains while pondering the idea -> he needs to use the idea to complete his training -> he voices his revised idea that he learned from the someone -> he wins. theres only one exception to this. i'll let you figure out why that is.

many people who make this argument about how "platonic love is better" are both understanding the point and not understanding the point. these people are taking platonic love to mean "friendship" and thats not what it means in the sense its used in the manga, nor in a classical sense. platonic love according to plato (the one its named after), is the idea that it is a love that transcends earthly ideas like carnal desire and physical unity and instead becomes desire for one's true essence and unity in the "truth" of one's being. this means platonic love isnt "love without sex" but "love that can be more than just sex". so these people understand that "platonic love" is above any other type of love, but not because its "friendship". platonic love is "better" because it is permanent and unchangeable. truth is inherent. a soul is inherent. thats why within SNS there are themes of reincarnation of souls, of sharing of pain, of cosmic unity, of reuniting after death, of inexplicable yet unavoidable attraction, of the recognition, understanding and acceptance of someone else's truth.

in summary: SNS' souls are having cosmic sex and thats what saves the world.

[heretyc]

Horror [Trager, Eddie Gluskin, Val]

Horror: A collection of small fics, consisting of Outlast's most iconic antagonists [in my opinion].

The poll I started isn't over, but "canonically" is winning and I love it. Dark shit here we come lol. I will be writing for my beloved Terror-iffic Trio [aka my favourite antagonists from each game]. A party with these 3 would be lit.

Drabble ideas here.

Content Warnings: Uhhh...Outlast Antagonists lol. That is your warning.

Trager: Gore, awful jokes, his bare ass.

Eddie: Gore, murder, injury, mentions of his...lovely little display, sexual assault [minor, just a slight touch, no penetration]. [Please lord don't let him teach an art class.]

Val: Sexual assault [slight penetration w/ fingers], gore, murder, mud, Val's bare ass, mud breasts and mudgina.

I mean it, this is pretty heavy shit. It isn't too graphic, but if SA triggers you...either look away or read with caution. Trager's section is safe. Unless you're afraid of his ass...cause me too, man.

MINORS GTFO. Miners can stay as long as they're not minor miners.

Read with caution, I condone none of this. Fics underneath the cut.

You/MC take the place of the protagonist. So...you are Miles/Waylon/Blake. Yayyyyy....? Or nay? Depends on how you feel. MC is gender neutral, but is referred to with fem pronouns in Eddie's section for obvious reasons. You do not talk in Trager or Eddie's sections as Miles and Waylon were "mute". You speak in Val's section, though. You are described as having breasts in Val's section as both sexes/all genders have breasts. Tiddies for everybody!!

Enjoy.

Drabble idea: "See, this place isn't haunted!"

Sometimes, a saving grace can be your one way ticket to hell. And this had been an excellent example of that. The angelic voice over the dumbwaiter was a dream come true; after running and hiding for so long, it was like you were granted a break.

Only for your face to fall as the scarred face of a man greeted you. The air around him reeked of danger.

This was not the haven you were lead to believe was waiting for you.

"You made the right choice here, buddy," he declared before punching you in the jaw, a pained yell leaving your throat, and he was quick to take advantage of your shocked state to haul you into a wheelchair.

He must have done this a dozen times, as he was quick to lock your wrists into the cuffs attached to the chair. They were tight, and he merely chuckled at seeing your attempts of getting out of them.

He looked fucked up.

He stood in front of you, hands behind his back, and his eyes were scanning you like a wolf scans its prey before it mauls it to bits, "You're not a variant...huh. Well, buddy...you can call me...Trager. Everyone else does, anyway."

As Trager made noises looking you up and down, you looked at his face. Coated by some half-assed attempt at a mask and some strange glasses upon his face, you come to the conclusion that he was some doctor here.

He clicks his tongue and smacks you on the back, "You've got a lot of things to learn here, buddy. I am honoured to be your teacher."

Teach you about what, exactly? You didn't want to know. But he started to push you forward, and you only questioned where your hell would be.

This place was already hell, but...at the hands of some crazed madman, it was different.

Trager hummed to himself, making jokes here and there, and he once grumbled when you didn't laugh at a stupid impression, before he finally made it to an elevator. It was...somewhat cleaner up here, for some reason.

However...

You could feel a breeze upon your skin, and upon hearing the howl of wind and torrential rain, you saw an exit. Pitch black and windy, yet so much more welcoming than in here. You questioned if there would be a tornado warning or something by how violent the wind seemed to be.

The rain out there was intense, torrential, heavy and oh so divine, and Trager only chuckled.

"You want to take a quick walk, bud?" He leaned down next to you, eyes looking into yours like he was an old friend, despite also looking feral. "Run free, like Forrest Gump? Unfortunately, we're running out of time." He clicked his tongue once more, pulling you into the elevator.

This was a cruel joke. Even the Elvis impression - awful impression, mind you - wasn't as bad as this.

Standing beside you, Trager pressed a simple button on the control pad before clasping his hands together behind his back. After a moment of movement, he looked back toward you, his voice a tone that suggested jest, "Did you know they call elevators a "shaft" in other places of the world?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

Looking at him, you realized his skin looked...awful. Like he was a draugr from that video game you used to play.

His scalp was scarred, and after spending an hour in this place, you realize you're lucky your scalp was untouched.

Wires upon wires were wrapped along his arm, and upon closer inspection, you were horrified to notice that they weren't wires, they were tubes.

Of his own blood.

How did he not feel that?

A man like him probably enjoys that, to be honest.

His nails were quite long as well, albeit you couldn't blame him...hygiene in a place like this was laughable. He probably had to exert his inner wildcat to defend himself in this shit hole.

You nearly sobbed when the elevator came to its destination, and he took hold of the handles once more.

It smelled of death and lost hope up here.

Choruses of screams reached your ears and you flinched. He seemed to notice, as he violently shushed the poor bastards trying to break free of their confines, "Sh. Shshshsh...you weren't putting your tongue to good use anyway!"

Tongue...??

The man shrieking had a bloodied mouth, and he soon quieted after choking on, what you assume to be, his own blood. Trager only sighed, muttering to himself, "Really, I just needed something to lick my stamps."

This...was a cruel joke. Taking someone's tongue for stamps?? You were deep in thought, only for Trager to notice and grin evilly, "You should see what I do with the balls."

...Dear god.

"Yeah, this weird...cannibalistic guy downstairs begs for them...the guy knows what he wants, I gotta give him that. He reminds me of somebody...eh, buddy?"

He poked you in the shoulder as he pushed, and it appears he was referring to you.

"I saw your camcorder. You're some sort of journalist, here to...what, expose one of the biggest experiments in history?" He laughed at the notion, shaking his head. "I admire the bravery, really. Braving through disturbed masses...I have to admit, I'm impressed."

You only gulped.

"People love to say this place is...haunted." Trager noted, pushing you into a bathroom of some sort. Bloodied, smelled of decay and looked like a paradise for bugs and bacteria.

What had scared you the most was the array of torture devices he had laid out on a tray. This man was deranged, one way or another.

He continued his one-sided conversation, focusing on the aforementioned tray as he walked over to it, "I mean, who wouldn't? People love to paint asylums as haunted. They hear a ghastly noise or a terrified scream and immediately tell the papers that a house of human suffering is haunted."

Trager's hand hovered over each instrument of torture, trying to pick which one, but he hadn't stopped talking.

"And I am more than sure that's your entire...reason for coming here. Trying to prove it was haunted. But guess what, buddy?"

He finally picked up a blade, long and serrated, and he pressed it against a finger of yours, the edges sharp against your thin flesh. He leaned in close, his dry lips forming into a smile, "This place isn't haunted."

He moved away, the blade removed from your finger, and you breathed a sigh of relief as he placed it back down onto the tray.

"No, no. It's worse."

He finally picks up a gigantic pair of scissors, much like something you'd see picking away at a shrub, and he was more than eager to shut them and open them, metallic hisses invading your senses, much like the feeling of doom.

You will die here.

"This place is an example of human cruelty, my friend," he announced, voice loud and cheerful as if he wasn't about to maim you, and he placed the blades around some of your fingers. He cared not for your horrified shrieks and begs, he only leaned in once more and whispered,

"And you will be nothing but an example of what happened here."

Slice.

...

"Oh, come on, buddy...it's not like you needed your middle finger anyway. Now open up...I have some stamps to lick."

Drabble idea: "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

"Darling, please! You act as if I've done something rancid! What have I done to you to make you so afraid of me?!"

The bloodied behemoth on your tail was quick and hurried as he chased after you, his feet slamming against the rotting floorboards. You almost couldn't hear the music that played alongside the horrific display he handmade. The smell was awful, but the sight of it was enough to make you vomit.

You would not be the victim to the Groom. Not now. Not ever.

You would not have your pelvis slit, or your chest stuffed like you were a sex doll [ironically, that's all you would be to him], and you would not let him confess his undying love for you. It was fake and corrupt like this entire asylum.

Despite the smell of mildew and death, adrenaline filled your blood and you could tolerate the disgusting scents as you breathed in, your legs not yet faltering.

You've heard what he's done. The man who so giddily chased you rambled about it as you snuck around, and you were not pleased.

This was the only way out. Sometimes you have to take risks...right?

This wasn't worth it, though.

And sometimes, luck runs out. Like right now, as you are stuck in a dead end.

There was only an elevator. And it was not on your current floor.

Shit.

You could jump and risk a broken leg...or...

The emergency ladder. Broken and rusted, but it's tetanus over death.

You could explain all of this to the news with lockjaw.

"Wait, what are you doing?! Don't, don't-!"

You had leaped, gripping onto the ladder as your bottom half slammed against it. With a hiss you tried to pull yourself up, only for the ladder to break underneath you.

The top had snapped, and you tried to grab onto what remained on the wall, only to fall, your heart stopping.

Of all things to die from, it was a rusted ladder.

Oh well.

As your body slammed onto the top of the elevator, a sharp pang began to blossom from your ankle, and you look to see shards of glass sticking out of your flesh. Now coated in blood, you cried out and ripped the shards out, piece by piece. Blood pooled around your foot as you cradled it.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!"

The behemoth above looked down at you with a horrified expression, his hands out and wanting to hold you.

"I hate to see you suffering without me! Why would you do something like that to yourself?!"

His voice was full of panic and concern, and for a moment it seemed wholesome, until the panicked silence became one of anger. There was...tension.

"You would...rather die...than be with me...?"

His tone had shifted so quickly. He was unpredictable, and that's what had made him so...scary. In general, he had looked like he crawled from a 1940s horror series. Sweeney Todd had come to mind, actually...

"You're just another whore, aren't you?" He growled out, only to sigh, like this was a normal occurrence. "It's quite alright, darling. A good man can turn a whore into a house wife...and I have faith in us. Let me just..."

The elevator roared to life, and you panicked even more, now. Your poor heart would likely kill you before he had the chance to. But as you rose, he merely hummed to himself, waiting for the elevator to rise to his floor.

You had no chance at moving or escaping, as when you reached the proper floor, he was quick to grab you before you became sandwiched between the top of the elevator and the ceiling.

He dwarfed you. Instantly. He carried you bridal style, an eerie smile on his face, "Come, now. I must make sure you look perfect for our wedding."

You had no chance, now.

He clicked his tongue, footsteps hard against the rotting boards, and his voice was quieter as he spoke, "And I need to wrap up your foot...you are a silly one, darling."

It didn't feel silly. It felt like your ankle and foot were on fire, stinging like mad.

You had accepted your death already, but if there was also one thing you could accept, it's that he wasn't actually half bad.

Minus the...anger fits and the "whore" bit, he would have been wonderful. Looking up at him, you see a man soiled by corruption.

His eyes would have been a beautiful, shiny blue if not for the pools of hemorrhage. They had looked...empty. Dead. But whenever he looked at you, they shone like his soul had been revived.

Is this what he had wanted? Love?

Everyone in this hell hole had been deprived of it.

It was sad. Really fucking sad.

But you had read about what Eddie had done, and seen it too. And he was past the point of no return. He had done too much to be redeemed.

Dread made itself a home in your stomach as you were laid upon something cold and wet, and you were strapped in. Arms and legs spread, and your clothes were ripped off.

You were now nude, and being touched by the Groom himself.

His hands were gentle as he caressed a calf, "You have such soft skin...you will look absolutely beautiful," he cooed, hand gliding itself upwards toward your knee, then your thigh, and then...

You only flinched when you felt his hand begin to caress your genitals, as gentle as could be, as if he wasn't violating you. T'was the touch of a lover.

But he was no lover, no.

His fingertips merely grazed along your private flesh, rubbing it as if he had wanted to stimulate you, and you wanted to scream.

Eddie sighed dreamily, like he was a married man and his life would be filled with nothing but happiness, and he, luckily, let his hand glide up to your navel. "You look divine already, but when I'm finished with you? Oh, darling..."

He removed his hand, thankfully, but he was quick to turn on the saw, and all you could feel was cold air from its rapid movements and doom.

He gripped the sides of the table you were on, and he was smiling like this wasn't totally fucked up, "I know this will be hard..."

You felt the table move, slowly but surely, and you began to wriggle, but he continued, "You will have to deal with this...and then the conception, which I promise, will be wonderful," he winked as the saw came closer, "Then the pregnancy...and oh, I can just imagine the birthing. You will look so beautiful, darling...like a goddess. Mothers are goddesses in their own right."

And all you could feel was the sting of the saw, and your soul fading from your body.

...

"You're just like the rest. Filthy whore."

You're lucky you weren't alive to see your mangled body, tossed with the rest.

Ready to rot.

Drabble idea: "I want to go home..."

Val, in a sense, had been an angel to you.

They did not have a halo, made of purity and gold, or have pristine, white wings to wrap you and hold you close, no. They did not bear robes of white or play a golden harp or sing a divine chorus.

But they had wanted you all to themselves. And they would not let Knoth's guard dog, or his sickly bastards he called "friends", ruin you before they had a chance to.

Because unlike Knoth, or Marta, or Laird or Nick or whoever the fuck, Val would put you back together.

They are a loving mother, dedicated to spreading love.

It had been painted in blood on your way to the mines, 'LOVE SET US FREE'. Bottles encasing candles, bodies strewn up like Christmas decorations...

What were they trying to do, exactly? Make their cause look homey? Elegant? Acceptable?

You had felt oddly welcomed. Every single enemy in your way was slain, journals and notes left in your path to urge you to come to them.

"Come to me," the red ink beckoned you on the dirtied paper, "and I will show you my love."

They had been so kind as to leave batteries and bandages. Before you had taken the small, makeshift raft, a final note had been placed in one of the small shacks, the bed made and smelling of firewood,

"I am waiting for you."

You did not want this. But you needed to find a way out.

The mines were not welcoming. You were not alone. And you had been chased into the underground, where you are now; held down by Heretics as they muttered, "mother, burn..."

Like the fallen angel ready to relieve the sinners of their pain, their martyrdom, Val had approached, coated in mud and looking like the demon of the mountains.

In their hand was a torch, raging with fire, and it made their white eyes so much more intense.

They had hummed eagerly, the hum evolving into a laugh as the torch was placed down and the Heretics were shooed away. You were too afraid to move or notice their cold, dirtied hands leaving your flesh.

Their eyes were wide, pupils tiny, and they smiled as they strutted to you, "We are creatures of appetite..."

They moaned, feeling up their body and their fake breasts, like they were a porn star and giving you a show.

"I want to feel your hunger," their voice became quiet, something only you could hear, and they leaned close, your eyes staring frantically into theirs, searching for any fragment of humanity.

There was none. And you felt saddened, knowing that the Val in those journals was not this Val.

This was something different.

"I want to know your desires...and show you what true pleasure feels like," they rasped, pushing you down and straddling your hips, grinding against your clothed stomach. Your fear had aroused them.

"I want to go home..." you whispered, tears rushing from your eyes, and they only laughed, leaning close to your face and whispering, "This is your home, my love," a muddy hand came up to caress your cheek and wipe the tears away, "and I...will be doting."

You had no chance to respond or even acknowledge the powder blown into your senses, or the tongue forcing your mouth open, and immediately, they sought dominance over your own muscle, wrestling with it. It had ventured to each nook and cranny of your mouth, like they wanted to taste everything about you, and they eventually pulled away with a moan, saliva connecting you two.

They licked their lips, humming in delight as their hands rushed to push up your shirt and reveal your chest. "Your body...is delightful," they breathed out, squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipples with precision.

That powder did something to you. You had hated the feeling of their hands, but now you were overheating; desperate and quiet moans leaving your throat and making the cultist above you grin.

"I don't..." You couldn't even finish your sentence, as they pinched a nipple and made you shriek. It made them chuckle, and their hands moved south, ripping your zipper and breaking it. They got off for a second to completely rip your pants and undergarments off, and their naked thighs wrapped around your bare hips.

"Did you enjoy my gifts?" They questioned, hands now massaging your thighs, "You needed those batteries so badly...to document the lies of Sullivan, didn't you?" They purred, their hands tight and knowing just where to touch to get you to cry out in pleasure.

"That's why you came here. Fell from the sky, wrapped in flame..." they bit their lip, feeling aroused at the notion, "To record his bullshit."

You had even forgot about your camera, and you questioned where it was, until Val snorted, "It's gone, my love," their hands moved upwards to your genitals, "taken away...by my children. You won't need it anymore."

There was no pain when you felt their finger enter you. It was more pleasurable than anything you had ever felt, and it made you moan the loudest, and Val had revelled in this.

With precision their fingers located your pleasure spot, and sped up.

Your pleasure was their pleasure.

"God doesn't love you...not like I do."

And in time...you would know it to be true.