#it's not too creepy there is also fun parts

[aprito]

sos month day 10: rivalry

let's be real, the pool of other people fighting for sakura's (romantic) attention is not that big. in fact, it's just those three. and they're very insistent on making their distaste for the latest member of the pool known!!

bonus

[biteofcherry]

Forage and grind

orc!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: You always felt like you belonged there. Naively, you even felt safe. But when his silent observation snaps into action and you learn why you caught his interest, belonging starts to hold more terror than longing.

warnings: orc!Curtis; dark!Curtis; heavy dub-con; captivity; thigh riding; rope bondage/shibari; suspension; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected sex; heavy breeding kink; size kink; hints of degradation;

word count: 5k

Author's Note: I'm a bit late with this installment in the Scaretale universe, but life happens and you gotta deal with it 😜 Some parts of this story I'm happy about, some not so much. You judge for yourself.

Shards of light bounced off the golden coin, sending flickering butterflies of yellow around. The club was a glowing, warm space, but you always appreciated the additional reflection or spark, especially those tossed your way. 

You grinned, catching the coin mid air. You slipped it into the little pouch hung by the belt around your waist, where it softly clinked as it met a few other shiny tips you’ve been given that evening. 

Scaretale had the reputation of a place of mystery and horror, which you never understood. Granted, being filled with a variety of creatures (some of which were barely contained beasts) made it somewhat scary, but you never felt that shiver of wariness that so many of your friends, or people in general, experienced. 

As you moved around the club’s floor you felt warmth and a particular, restrained camaraderie. Not safety, exactly, but something akin to familiarity. 

The interior was elegant, fancy even, combining human modern design with the lush mystery of dark magic born in the heart of ancient woods and meadows. It was not only aesthetically pleasing to the eye, but called to your heart with a reflection of something hearty from the old times before you were born. 

It was that obsession with medieval stuff, as your friend called it, rolling her eyes. And she claimed that you applying for a job at Scaretale was taking that obsession way too far. Especially since, in her eyes, the creepy haunted-mansion-like club had nothing in common with medieval, or even renfaire vibe. You wondered if her eyesight was skewed. 

You felt drawn to the Scaretale, as you were to the monsters’ realms themselves. Not fascinated, but simply drawn, as if you knew you belonged there. 

Which is why you were stubborn and pushy when you approached Ransom with your brilliant offer to work there as a waitress. 

Something he was clearly disinterested with. 

At first, at least. Because as you listed your experience from human establishments you worked when in college, Ransom’s eyes twinkled with sudden recognition. That shifted into a dark sort of excitement, which for a split of a second made you wary. 

You may have found Scaretale as a place where you felt comfortable, but its owner wasn’t someone you’d ever let your guard down around. 

All that mattered was that he agreed and you found yourself hired as the only human in a monster club. With monsters’ silver and gold coins, it turned out to be a quite well paid job, too. 

Though you felt in your element when moving between booths and nooks, your instincts still reacted to some of the creatures with more fear and caution. You learned who was more approachable and open to conversation, or teasing (like the satyrs who always flirted and regularly tried to talk you into joining an orgy), and who was better served quickly and subserviently (a growly werewolf, for example). 

Some monsters came only once, snatching their match and leaving. Some were regulars, seeking fun and new bodies to debauch. 

There were also regulars whose agenda you never figured out. And you tried not to be too curious about it.

A group of enormous, beefy orcs visited every two weeks, or so. Though they were restrained in the way they talked, when they walked through the club everyone seemed to tense in fear. 

Orcs were the most known warriors. Bloodied, ruthless, ripping worlds to shreds. As a human your knowledge was limited, but from snippets heard here and there you learned that their race raided many kingdoms and realms in the past millennia. Nowadays they were more like mercenaries.

With the occasional brutal raid for their own benefit. 

They came to the Scaretale cleaned up, but you still could easily imagine their bodies splattered with the enemy's blood. Not to mention the glint of weapons always present at their side, which made your skin crawl with trepidation. 

Your instincts often whispered caution when you waited for some of the creatures visiting, but when it came to these orcs the alarms were ringing loud. 

It wasn’t just prey sensing a predator prone to snap its teeth, but a sense ingrained into your blood like voices of the generations passed. 

It always skyrocketed when you felt the burning gaze of the biggest orc following your every move. 

He appeared to be the leader; it was clear in the way their group lined when cutting through the club, as well in the way they sat around the table. Not to mention that one time when you picked their orders from the bar and the bartender pointed at one of the beer mugs saying that one was for the war chieftain.

His mug was bigger than the rest and the foam floating on top sprinkled with crushed juniper berries. An unusual combination of flavor, you thought, but didn’t pay it much attention. 

Or rather, you tried your best to not pay it attention.

Which was hard to do when you felt his eyes following your every move and when you had a full body shiver reaction upon seeing that monstrous figure whenever you served the orcs’ table. His biceps alone were the size of your whole head. You were sure that he could crush your skull with just one of his big hands. 

The other orcs were large and intimidating, but their war chieftain surpassed the scary level. 

Still, you schooled your features and played a polite waitress role. You even encouraged yourself with a little inward game of pretending to be a medieval inn beer-maid. After all, the setting was perfect with the Scaretale’s vibe and a group of sword-and-ax wielding warriors as your customers. 

That night, however, as you were about to bounce from one served table to theirs to take their never changing order of limitless beer, you found that four of the orcs had already left. Or disappeared for the moment. But there was still one left at the table.

Their leader. 

The one scaring you the most. Always intently observing you with those piercing blue eyes. 

His pale, green-tinted skin made those inhuman irises stand out even more. There were some faint, green markings along his cheeks, but you didn’t know if it was a part of his natural pigmentation, or some sort of a deeply ingrained tattoo. 

Orcs were said to be unkempt beasts, but his beard was groomed. Thick and dark, bearing flecks of gray. His lips were a shade of pale pink, wide and plump, and spreading where two white lower canines grew out into sharp, tusk-like features. Unlike his companions, who had their hair braided, or cut into mohawks, he had his hair buzzed close to the scalp. 

He had one of his elbows resting on the table, thick fingers rapping slowly against the wood. His other arm was thrown across the backrest of the seat. Though in rest, his muscles were bulging; evoking a flicker of terror at the thought of him actually flexing and using those massive arms as he fought. 

Compared to him, you were small and fragile. 

Despite certain aspects of the size difference turning you on, you’d rather not test those urges with someone as dangerous and brutal as the orc. 

Hair on the back of your neck raised in alert as you neared the table. His gaze was on you for a while now, but it felt scorching hot the closer you came. Mustering an easy smile, you asked him if he wanted the usual (always that damn beer with juniper berries). 

“No.” His gruff voice rolled over you like a lick of thunder. “I’m done with poor substitutes.”

A frown marred your face. You didn’t understand what he was referring to. The Scaretale’s beer came from the best breweries and was spiced with some extra fae herbs. No customer has ever complained. 

Also, you didn’t think this orc would quietly stand for something he didn’t like the slightest bit, and he was regularly drinking that beer. 

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and you were yanked forward. 

With a gasp, you landed on his thigh. Your legs parted as your center settled atop a thick, leather-covered thigh. He held your wrist in one hand, while settling the other on your waist. You weren’t a tiny creature by any means, but his huge palm seemed to span your entire side. 

“Do you know that orcs are most known for raiding elven kingdoms?” He asked in a hushed tone, as if he was sharing a secret with you. You shook your head in response. 

As you learned of different monsters, when it came to the orcs you often stumbled upon art depicting huge beastly warriors doing explicit things to elven maidens, but you thought it only to be a kink many humans liked to think of, disregarding actual history and nuance. Especially, since you never met or heard of an actual elf existing.

Honestly, you suspected it was also humans’ fault - twisting the information on fae folk and coming up with new names for the subspecies.

“For riches and land, like with any other realm, but-” his fingers dug a little deeper into your skin and he pulled you along his thigh, making you gasp. “The main reason was to capture elven maidens.”

“There was something about the elven women that was irresistible to us. How fragile they were compared to orcs in size. How sweet and wild they smelled. How tight their holes were around orcs’ massive cocks.” 

He grunted out the last part, once again drawing your body forth on his thigh. With your legs spread and layers of your skirt too thin to provide cover, hard muscle of his thigh and the rough edge of leather pants he was wearing grazed your sensitive clit. 

“It’s still believed that elven cunts are the ripest for orc seed. Taking it so well and bearing many healthy babes.”

There have been some encounters with a few openly lustful visitors in the Scaretale, but none breached the boundary with you. No one grabbed you and put you into his lap, and made you grind against their thigh while they revealed obscene details behind their species’ primal behavior. 

This orc acted as if he had the right to move your much weaker body anyway he pleased. If he merely toyed with you, perhaps you could twirl away with the excuse of your duties awaiting. However, there was something about the way he treated you that rang a different kind of alarm. 

“Chieftain-” you placed your hands against his wide chest, trying to squirm away.

“Curtis.” He gripped you tighter and bounced his leg, making you moan as the meat of his thigh crushed your clit. “My name’s Curtis.” 

While you would welcome any customer telling you their name with a cheeky smile, this orc wanting you to know it and use it when you addressed him was like sealing your fate. 

You froze as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your scent and sweat. He groaned in delight and the sound of it vibrated down your chest, puckering your nipples into stiff points. 

“And you hold the unmistakable fragrance of juniper berries bathed in dew, my little elfling.” 

His words rolled over your body, trailing fear in their wake. It was no random sentence to make about you. Not after the brief recap of filthy history he treated you to minutes ago. 

His intense obsession made sense now. A terrifying sense. Impossible, too.

“I’m human!” You protested, fighting with all your might against the fate he laid out for you, before you even knew it would concern you directly. 

“You are,” Curtis didn’t deny it, “but somewhere in your lineage an elf mixed their blood with your human ancestors. That gene sparks intensely in your body.”

There was never any tale, not even a secret family anecdote that regarded a relationship with a magical creature. If it was a scandalous romance, it was hidden well, too. You could call bullshit. Claim it was a lie that Curtis used to grope you and have his way. But with how intensely he was always observing you, how he acted now, despite previously shown restraint, you had a feeling he wasn’t tricking you. 

Then the memory of Ransom near cackling with glee after studying you for a longer moment resurfaced. He didn’t want to hire a human, he had no interest in it. But if he sensed you were part elf and he knew orcs were his regular customers…

Yeah, Ransom wouldn’t pass that opportunity for mayhem and his own gain. 

“Please?” You looked up at Curtis. “Let me go? I- I have work to do. And-” 

Your words turned into a muffled moan when plush lips suddenly crushed into yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. The way Curtis’ mouth took yours was barbarous; a shard of that savage pillaging he boasted about. 

You felt the pressure of his tusks against your face, but surprisingly neither even nicked your skin. His tongue plunged between your lips in a savage thrust - as disgusting as it was, something about it made your body shake to its core. 

Was it your weakness for primal wildness that responded so eagerly?

When Curtis pulled away, your mouth was tingling and wet. Your panties felt sticky, too. 

“You’re an addictive sweet little berry, Juniper.” He hummed, rubbing his big thumb along the seam of your inner thigh. “And I’m going to grind you hard, until I bathe whole in your fragrant juices.”

Heat flooded you as an image of brutality with which he’d take your body flashed in your mind. 

There wouldn’t be anything smooth, or delicate about the way the orc treated you. Not because you thought him to be incapable of finesse, but you sensed he was excited about ruining you. 

A squeak ripped out of your throat when Curtis suddenly got up. He hoisted you over his broad shoulder, gripping your struggling body with ease. None of your screams to be let go were respected. And none of your yells for help were answered by anyone from the club. 

Lights of Scaretale, welcoming and homey until now, blurred as you were being carried away. Until darkness of one of the mysterious corridors swallowed you. You had no idea where the orc was taking you. Your knowledge of the corridors was very limited, knowing only that some of the monsters took their partners that way. 

He didn’t slap you when you wiggled, but his large hand spread over your ass and gave a hard squeeze. Probably to remind you of the size and strength of him that surpassed yours a thousand times. 

It didn’t stop you from trying to bolt when he eased you down on your feet. Your surroundings were completely different from the familiar layout of the Scaretale, yet so innocently domestic it gave you a whiplash. 

It appeared you were in some cottage, not very modern judging by the interior. Wooden furniture and wrought-iron details. The bed standing in the middle was an enormous feature, as was a round wooden bathtub in the corner. A type where you had to boil your own water to fill it with. 

If you were looking for a medieval experience, that was the fucking peak of it. 

Curtis’ big hand snatched the back of your shirt as you tried to run away, yanking you back to him with ease. The fabric tore as he gripped it and the orc simply ripped it fully off of you. Then your skirts.

“No!” You struggled between the urge to cover your naked body and scratching the monster towering over you.

“You’re spirited and strong, that’s good.” He praised, easily capturing your wrists in one of his hands. “You’ll fit the war chieftain’s wife role. Bear healthy babies, too.” 

“No worries-” he interrupted your next splutter of protests with a calm, almost mocking tone. “Orcs have mastered the ways of breaking an elven maiden into an obedient, dripping wife.” 

In a swift move he had you plastered to his chest, one arm securing both of your hands at your sides as he reached for something with his free hand. Then something abrasive brushed your skin.

The first loop of the rope around your middle and arms surprised you so much you only gasped. But then Curtis weaved it up and around, creating intricate patterns on your torso as he tied knots and interlooped thick strings of rope. He crossed it around and between your breasts, squeezing them as he tightened it. 

He forced two strings of rope between your lips, creating a makeshift gag. 

With your upper body completely bound, Curtis gripped your hips and tossed you onto the bed. Before you managed to kick at him, he had your ankles tied. He circled the rope around your legs a few more times, pleating pretty knots, until you were completely immobile. 

“Soon,” he propped your bound ankles on his shoulder as he looked down at your helpless form, “you’ll grow to love my ropes on you.” 

You glared at him, but your objection was muffled by the strings across your mouth. 

The sound of your moan was stifled, as well, but resounded much louder when Curtis bent you in half, bringing your legs closer to your chest as he buried his face in your exposed pussy. 

Your folds were slightly puffed and tingling already, roused from the way he had you riding his thigh in the Scaretale and responding to the graze of harsh rope against your sensitive skin. They were begging for a tantalizing tease to continue, to draw your pleasure to a maddening sharp edge. 

But the onslaught of a hungry mouth conquering your wet softness short circuited your brain. 

It was so savage, yet something about it being unapologetically brutal and ruthless scorched your body in a blaze. 

Moan turned into a choked cry as Curtis’ fat tongue licked between your folds and entered your dripping hole. Your breast swelled, the bite of rope heightening as your chest arched within the bonds. Your fingers curled helplessly at your sides, unable to grip anything. 

The sounds Curtis made as he feasted on you were obscene - uncultured, beastly growls and slurps. When he sucked on your clit, your own voice gurgled against the makeshift gag. 

“That’s it, Juniper,” he grunted against your pussy, drinking up your juices. “You’re gonna cum on the orc's tongue. Gonna be my good slut. My own breeding stock.” 

You writhed against the bonds. Against the growing pleasure that was rapidly nearing the precipice. But it was inevitable. His wide, plump lips devoured you, munching on your folds like on the juiciest fruit, before ripping the seam with a tongue brutal like an axe and squishing your clit with rough licks. 

You came with a scream. Within your bonds, the orgasm seemed to be relentless, rattling in each limb like a caged animal. 

When Curtis lifted his face to stare down at you, a dark triumph of conquest glinted in his eyes. He counted your body giving in as a battle victory. And you knew he wasn’t done raiding that field. 

Your slick shone on his face and beard, his tusks were sticky with it. He made no move to clean it off, bearing that wetness like a proud mark of his triumph. 

He kept looking at you, bracing one of his heavy arms across your legs to pin them to your chest, as his hand moved up the curve of your ass. A single digit swiped between your swollen folds, stealing your breath anew. An orc’s one finger was like two of yours, maybe even thicker. 

Curtis didn’t coo at you when you mewled at the intrusion as he pushed that finger into your still fluttering pussy. He snarled in hunger, pushing it against the resistance of your tightness. 

“Breathe through it,” he instructed harshly. “Save your cries for when I split you on my cock.”

You preferred not to think of that part, but it was hard to block it when Curtis started thrusting his digit in and out of you, mimicking what he was going to do using his cock. His inhuman, monstrous, orc dick. 

A shiver rocked your whole body, clenching your walls around his finger. 

“Oh yes, my sweet little berry,” Curtis grinned, lewdly flicking his tongue to lick his bottom lip and the side of his tusk. “I’m going to force my cock into your snug pussy. Stretch it so good and deep.” 

“Hear how wet you are for me already?” He teased, thrusting his finger rougher and raising the embarrassing sound of squelching. “Your cunt’s weeping for my cock and my seed.”

You shook your head, but all movement ceased and your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Curtis pushed a second finger along with his index one. His groan of pleasure was louder than the echo of sloshing wetness trickling around his digits. 

“What a good, hot, wet hole.” He moaned, slowly dipping in and out of your channel; delighting in the feel of your velvet walls gripping his fingers. 

“Bet the other one is just as good.”

You didn’t have time to process his words when he eased one of his fingers out of your pussy and firmly pressed it against your rim. 

Despite your gurgled, weak protests, his finger was slick enough with your wetness that he breached your hole with ease. Well, to him it may have felt easy, but to you it was a struggle depriving you of air. 

“Never had your tight ass penetrated, my wild Juniper?” He looked at you, gloating. “I swear, conquering your body tastes better than any bloodbath and battle victory.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a lewd moan leaving his lips as your walls cinched around his fingers. Then his eyes snapped open again and he was staring down at you, greedily catching every grimace and flicker of pleasure on your face as he fucked both of your holes with his fingers. Faster and faster. 

His grin was near terrifying when your body tensed and you cried out an intense release. 

Curtis pushed his fingers as deep as he could, wiggling them slightly as your walls pulsed around them. When your high subsided in slow waves, he withdrew his fingers and smeared your own cream all over your ass and thighs. 

When he let your legs drop onto the mattress and untied the rope around them with a single tug on one of the knots, you prayed reprieve was coming your way. But then he was flipping you onto your belly and yanking you down across the mattress.

Your legs hung over the edge of the bed, toes barely reaching the floor. Only for a moment. 

Because Curtis bound them into a new position, spreading your legs wide apart. Another rope was weaved and knotted between some of the existing loops. Then he tugged. Harshly.

And your body lifted off the bed. 

You squeaked, confused. Your body swayed in air, yanked higher as Curtis tugged on the rope again. Focused on the sensations he ripped from your body and his presence cutting off anything else, you didn’t notice the iron hooks drilled into the ceiling. Through which Curtis weaved some of the ropes, lifting your helpless body to a preferred height. 

“You’ll rely only on me, Juniper.” Curtis growled, rubbing your parted thighs. “On the bonds keeping my elven slut in place. And on my cock ripping your tight pussy.” 

Your tongue moved against the rope between your lips, failing to sound the pleads for mercy. A tremor rocked your body as you felt the orc’s large body pressing itself between your spread thighs. 

The leaking head of his cock brushed against your abdomen and when you felt Curtis’ hips settle against your butcheeks the whole length of him pressed against your belly. When he held it like that the tip of his dick reached your belly button. 

There was no further preparation graciously given as he gripped his cock and guided it up between your parted folds. Then again, perhaps you should consider him thoughtful, given the two earlier orgasms he wrung out of you to have you creamy and loose. 

Still, when the bulbous head of his dick pressed against your cunt, your entire body tensed. 

It was too big. His entire body was too big. And you had no choice, but to take-

Not a scream, but a moan so high pitched and strangled ripped out of your throat that you were sure it could be heard loud and clear to anyone outside the cottage. 

Curtis speared into you in one, firm stroke, not bothering with the slow and gentle. His cock stretched you wider than two of his fingers had. It sunk deeper, too. To the point of near discomfort as the tip nudged your cervix. 

“Fuuuuck!” Curtis moaned shamelessly, digging his meaty fingers into your hips and holding your swaying body in place. 

“What a snug, delectable cunt.” He rolled his hips in a circle, eliciting new sensations that had you mewling. He chuckled in response. 

“I’m gonna be riding and filling that pussy so often, Juniper. Until you swell with my seed. Then I’ll sate its pathetic need as your belly rounds and your breasts leak milk. Then plow it again to plant another babe. And another.”

Your walls fluttered around him. Heat filled every inch of your body, even as fear and shame mixed at the prospect of enduring all that he promised. 

A gasp soaked into the rope gagging your mouth as Curtis used your bonds to move your body. He wasn’t fucking you, he was swinging your suspended body back and forth, using you. 

Quite slowly at first, relishing in the way your tight channel was clinging to him as his cock eased out. Then the way you stretched around the veiny girth as he plunged back in. It was after one of the easy strokes, when your cream gushed out as his hips met your asscheeks, that Curtis snarled impatiently.

And started really fucking you. 

Not only swaying your body, but meeting it with rough thrusts of his own. Battling any remaining resistance and conquering your body. 

Your breasts bounced with each move, your nipples tightened painfully. Saliva was pooling around the rope gag in your mouth, wetting the hemp and dribbling down your chin. The slight bite of the rope against your skin evoked a tiny prickle of pain that shifted into a burning kind of caress. Monstrous cock filling your pussy provided unparalleled friction and pressure that your clit pulsed without being directly stimulated.

It messed with your mind and overloaded it with how many sensations could be experienced by your body, even though it was fully immobilised. 

You came in a rush, crying out and clenching your eyes shut as white, hot pleasure bursted through you. Curtis welcomed it with a grunt, snapping his hips faster and harder. 

“Your body’s eager to receive my seed, my spicy berry.” He growled in pleasure. “Creaming and opening up to serve its purpose. I’d be a bad husband, if I didn’t spoil you with what you crave.” 

One of his hands moved across your back to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head up.

“I’d be a poor slut owner, if I didn’t breed you full.” 

His increasing moans combined with the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness; your tiny whimpers getting lost in the wilderness of it all. 

There was a splutter of low, angry barks of That’s it and Take it all as Curtis fucked you brutally. When he bellowed his release it carried outside like a battle cry. 

Your body seized in an unexpected, small orgasm as you felt his thick cock throbbing inside of you and hot spurts of cum filled you. There was so much of it you felt a pressure grow low in your abdomen. 

Curtis held you in place, breathing heavily and kneading your muscles as he filled your body with the last drop of his cum. When he withdrew, you felt a heavy dollop dripping out and splashing somewhere below. 

A tug on the rope had your body plummeting down, but only your upper half lowered. Your cheek rested against the sheets, while your ass still hung higher in the air. 

“Better to hold all my seed in.” Curtis hummed, patting your wet pussy. “Until I’m ready to fill you again.”

You groaned, seeing his hand palming his softened cock and beginning to stroke it back to attention. 

Curtis fucked you four more times that night. Three times having you suspended in the air, though in different positions and angles. For the last, he had you fully on the bed, too exhausted and spent to really fight him, so no ropes were needed. He plowed into you from behind, crushing your body with his weight. 

Though it provided a warm kind of comfort later when he held your curled, sleepy form to his massive body. 

When you woke up late the next morning, the bright near-noon sun was filtering through the wide open windows. Through one of them you saw Curtis. Wearing only his warrior leathers and chopping wood. As you stretched, you felt ache awakening in places you never considered could feel sore. 

You still felt the imprint of his cock inside you. 

And the sticky remainder of his cum, that had to drip out of you during the night.

There was so much of it when he filled you over and over again, you wouldn’t be surprised if the orc managed to obtain his obsessive goal to breed you. 

Your fingers traced across your belly, but before you spiralled into thoughts and images of swelling with the monster’s baby another sensation drew your attention. On your ankle, you felt a soft, insistent caress.  

When you glanced at it, you saw a wide leather cuff. A small padlock was clasped on the buckle, making it impossible to take off the cuff without a key. A thin, but sturdy chain was attached to the cuff, the length of it laid in shiny coils on the floor. 

“You’re not yet broken enough to keep you unrestrained,” came Curtis’ calm, deep voice. 

He stepped inside, the axe in his hand catching the light and glinting dangerously. He put it aside, then splashed his hands with water from a tin bowl placed by the entrance. Thick fingers started undoing his breeches as he slowly approached the bed.

“Spread your legs, Juniper.” He coaxed. “I want to fill your ripe pussy before we make a meal.” 

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

batfam and what canadian university i’m assigning them

dick - western

i live for frat boy dick

but like not the creepy frat boys

i think canadian greek life is significantly more chill, definitely a lot of drinking though

like i can already imagine him doing a keg stand

not a permanent frat boy ofc but i can kinda see him going a little wild during uni

like he’s definitely sociable and getting invited to all of the parties

but like the academics aren’t bad too so i think he’d have fun there

the campus is pretty big so you need to take the bus to different areas and it always comes late

you just know dick is ditching the bus and straight up booking it, basically doing parkour

jason - uoft

is it kind of a soulless commuter school where it’s practically impossible to make friends unless you live on res in an incredibly expensive city? yes

HOWEVER it also has the largest academic library system in the country and has so many rare books

i just know the lit nerd in him would like it

i think he would also just enjoy going to a large uni with a lot of course selections, so he can choose courses that actually sound interesting to him

he just loves learning for the sake of learning (remember guys, he’s the robin who actually liked going to school) and i think he would appreciate having so many resources at his fingertips, even if the uni community isn’t that good

has a reputation for being a really difficult school

this nerd would somehow make it work

everybody who goes here already needs therapy so he’d fit right in

also i can’t really see him outside of a city, like bro would see the toronto crime (the stabbings and fires on the ttc alone are enough to keep him busy) and be like i can fix it

literally begging him to fix toronto so i can go downtown without the ttc shutting down half of line 2 for no reason

bro would not appreciate the housing though i guess

like why is he paying $2k a month for an apartment that’s only slightly better than the one he grew up in in crime alley

and he has roommates (hear me out him and the outlaws are roommates OR alternatively the most annoying stereotypical toronto men you’ve ever seen and he tries so hard not to bash his head into the wall because of them)

tim - waterloo

listen, i don’t think tim would want to go

like i don’t think uni would teach him anything be can’t figure out on his own

BUT if he had to go, i think waterloo would probably be good for their coop program

also it’s like THE asian school and i feel like most of the fandom has basically decided he’s asian anyways

erm but idk he also dropped out of high school so if he got his ossd maybe he can go to tmu or york

feel like they have the most prodigies too in terms of comp sci and eng so he’d fit right in (but unlike them he’d actually shower)

damian - mcgill

bro is not old enough to even be thinking about uni tbh

i feel like he’d go to an ivy league though, like one of the historic “real” ones

but if he must stay in canada i feel like it would be mcgill (also bc everybody i know at mcgill wants to go to harvard and that’s probably where he’d rather be)

they’ve definitely got a lot of history, they’re part of the old four, and i think he would appreciate montreal (probably would not consider any of the small towns and would think toronto is too trashy and vancouver is rainy)

would refuse to live on campus (fair enough dorms make me depressed too) and probably get a place in westmount (iykyk)

but he’s definitely going to either university of guelph or université de montréal for their vet school

i feel like he would already know french as a kid so the language barrier isn’t even a problem (wish that were me)

[bloodyinkandquill]

Darkheart and child Reader

just got my new glasses in need to adjust to them i’ve got like a fishbowl effect going on, but it’s friday and im tired, might nap but i wanna try and do this before i nap

reviewed his wiki as i do with every request, one of TWO trivia on his is that he wouldn’t be a good parent… lmaoooo

- You weren’t the one to find Darkheart, he was the one to find you, he was walking through dark alleys at night, like he usually does, he’s weird, when he heard faint breathing, his curiosity got the better of him and he went to investigate, that’s when he found you asleep in a box, rather young and quite dirty, under regular circumstances he’d ignore you and carry on but something felt different about you, so he turned himself invisible to mortals and watched you

- He watched you for a few days, as you survived day to day finding food and shelter, clothing and water, whatever you needed, it was amusing to him honestly, but a part of his did take pity on you

- So one night as you were winding down trying to find a good place to sleep it began to rain, you ran for shelter at some random business’ back door that had a small awning and you sat there, it wasn’t big enough to lie down without rust of getting wet and it had a light anyways so you tried to just wait it out, that was until you noticed something, from deeper in the alley on the shadows a very creepy smile

- You screamed before slapping your hands over your mouth, he approached and as the light shined on him you realized he was one of the SFotHs, he knelt down to your level and told you he had been watching you, and if you’d like to accompany him, you took his hand and next thing you knew you were in his realm, it was honestly kind of scary there but it wasn’t raining which was nice

- Darkheart in his usual fashion chuckled quietly to himself as he watched you look around, he asked if you were hungry which obviously you said you were, so he gave you some grilled fish, not cut up or anything just a fish he had grilled whole, you ate as much as you could

- From then on you were almost always in his realm, it was safer there and he’d given you some sort of shelter, not quite a house but it was close, and he’d get you food and clothing and such, he wasn’t great at it but he tried, he also did not have a good concept on what mortals can or can’t eat so it was a learning period, he still occasionally brings you weird things thinking they’re food, but he’s done it less as times went on

- For the most part you usually leave him realm only to accompany him fishing, he teaches you how to and gives you a rod far too big for you, when it breaks because whatever bit the line was stronger then you that was the only time you saw him frown, it was basically his smile but upside down, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing because he looked rather silly, he got you a smaller training rod instead which works far better, it even had a rubber ducky bobber!

- He gets you occasional toys but they’re almost always older wood toys, like blocks, wheel ducks, that ladder thing, you do appreciate them but only so much fun can come from them, you do get stuffed animals though, specifically any and every fish stuffed animal he finds he gets and gives to you, you have an army of trout plushies

- When Venomshank learns of you he flips, he knows his brother has not been taking proper care of you seeing as you are a young child, he immediately brings you proper clothes and food, since his brother just gave you his own clothes to wear despite you being like half his height, he also gives you Sword’s old toys so that was nice, he comes by regularly to make sure you’re being taken proper care of, when Venomshank confronted his brother about it he just said ‘oopsies’

this was fun i’m going to sleep now

[outoftoucherlocksholmes]

it occurred to me while backing up procreate files last night that aside from Bad Bisexual Representation Booty Shorts Dio, i never posted any of the things from this canvas i had going for sketches while watching part 3 back in 2022, which is a shame, really

[katyspersonal]

Abyss Watchers headcanons

> Them all having white hair and red eyes are the signs of a lot of exposure to the Abyss, like how Four Kings got white hair, people in contact with any darkness commonly show red eyes etc. + Artorias ended up with these features too, and black hair on his helmet was his own hair cut to decorate it, not unlike Ciaran's braid. This never caused the panic though, it is no more than like getting tan under too much sun exposure. The corruption carries different effects than just a bit of a recolor!

> Wolf blood gave them minor feral features, like fangs and tufts of grey fur in the spots where humans normally have the most hair. no tails though

> @val-of-the-north actually counted the corpses using colorful stones drops to not get lost! So, the amount of Abyss Watchers is only barely above 100! This is very little for a legion, but they were pretty strong at their prime so the number never shifted too far from this number

> The ~100 consisted of mostly the first of them and those who joined in early. They were mostly a pack of these people, very rarely losing members and very rarely gaining those who would grow into "true wolves". Even out of those who were accepted as Abyss Watchers rather than Farron Followers, most didn't fully assimilate. They remained visibly 'distinguished' ones, like Hawkwood who never grew to their common 10'00''+ height and so

> These rare new members were referred to as 'cubs'. The 'distinguished' people like Hawkwood were continued to be called so even after they fully trained, although it then had more affectionate connotation than referring to their lack of experience

> They offer people who have shown bravery and are deemed to have true warrior spirit within to come with them, however, it is quite hard to refuse them. It is very easy to get roped into madness by them by simply allowing them to surround the person and speak of the importance of combating the horrors, how Artorias tooooootally once succeeded etc. They do not even understand the nearly-hypnotic effect they possess, but it is explained by the gravity of the Abyss itself surrounding them due to their job. It horrifies, however humans naturally possess the darkness that finds kinship in it, the wish to fight it endlessly IS just one of the ways it entices and corrupts. Those who managed to avoid getting seduced recruited by them after confrontation do recall that something felt very wrong and otherwordly for a short time.

> 'Semi-hivemind' is the best way I can describe them tbh. There is usually a member who is unmistakeably singled out and seemingly 'leading the pack', and if this particular person was lost, the next strongest guy would get singled out instinctively.

> "True" Abyss Watchers hardly, if ever, need to verbally communicate with each other, instead understanding instinctively. When they do need to talk with anyone it is this 'pack leader' doing the talking, usually with some others accompanying him and performing actions if needed without any signals to do so. The 'leader', also, mostly speaks for them all as they share their thoughts and feelings ("Don't try to lie to us, we could always smell it in your blood", "We all remember your bravery", "We could almost feel you wagging your tail, if you had one" etc).

> And they can, in fact, sense more than average person due to the wolf blood! Blood pressure, heartrate, whether someone started sweating and so on. It is very useful when someone is trying to hide having gotten touched by the Abyss (reasonably so, because it is instant death). Or if someone pretends they totally didn't encourage less-infected people to evacuate the corrupted land before Abyss Watchers came to obliterate it.

> The best way to stay alive after being targeted for "mercy-killing" by them is to run into the Church of the Deep. Abyss Watchers are sceptical about 'purifying' ones with minor corruption, but they cannot cross into this territory without permission for several reasons. And so far those whom Deacons "treated" really seemed to be alright. Abyss Watchers didn't believe in efficiency of this method though and had a feeling that sacred body of water could not fit in everyone's even natural darkness, let alone Abyssal one. They absolutely loathe and pity the place though, but all they really could do was to wait to obliterate it when it'd inevitably drown in filth. (the big "told you so" day that never became their to claim lol)

> Anyone who feels attracted to them is under no pressure to kiss and cuddle all of them they're welcomed to try though if they dare lol . They share their feelings, so getting close even with one makes others happy by effect. Though if such things occur, usually it is the 'pack's leader' who claims this experience, let alone the fact he is the only one who will actually talk. But even then, at least several others will linger around

> If one of the "true" Abyss Watchers, the 'identical' ones, gets somehow separated from the rest for significant time, they might slowly reclaim sense of identity and even remember their name. Addiction to fighting the Abyss can't be helped though, so they will yearn to forget the brief moments of peace and rejoin the group

[mariocki]

Evil Dead Rise (2023)

"You don't look so good, Mom..."

"Oh, nothing a big old hug and kiss from you won't fix. Open up now. Like a good girl."

[namazunomegami]

Lord of the Flies, Gluttonous Queen, Prince of Filth, Prince of Decay, Goddess of Ekron, Lord of Slander, Queen of Pestilence and Famine, The Rotting One

I Solomon said unto him: “Beelzeboul what is thy employment?” And (s)he answered me: “I destroy kings. I ally myself with foreign tyrants. And my own demons I set on to men, in order that the latter may believe in them and be lost. And the chosen servants of God, priests, and faithful men, I excite unto desires for wicked sins, and evil heresies, and lawless deeds; and they obey me, and I bear them on to destruction. And I inspire men with envy, and desire for murder, and for wars, and sodomy, and other evil things. And I will destroy the world.” - The Testament of Solomon

[natasha-in-space]

Show & Tell

Zen/gn!reader/Unknown;

You are meant to play the part bestowed upon you. That is all the purpose you will ever need. At least, that's what you are supposed to think. But, even the best of actors can forget their lines. Except, the one overlooking your play is not very forgiving.

Based on Zen's 3rd Bad Story ending.

Content warnings for: non-consensual drug-use, and overall Unknown being a very creepy bastard.

"A long time ago, in a land far away, there lived a beautiful silver-haired knight, and a kind-hearted prince/ss. Everything was well in their kingdom, until the prince/ss realized that their court was nothing but a bunch of traitors to the crown... filled with dirty liars and hypocrites. The prince/ss thought their loyal knight would come and save them, that they would run away together. But... alas, that did not happen."

A hushed, breathy voice travels throughout the spacious room, echoing against the thick walls of your own personal playhouse, almost like a phantom haunting its opera house. Only the heavy sounds of large boots against the wooden stage serve as a reminder, that there was a very real narrator present in this room, telling his rousing tale to a gracious audience of none. Your vision is spinning, your body too weak to even hold your head up properly. You would have probably collapsed if not for the comfortably cushioned throne reserved just for you to sit upon.

Oh, how gracious your host was, providing you with everything you could possibly need for you to stay as relaxed and comfortable as you can be. All you need to do in return is to sit there like a disciplined prince/ss you are, and listen. Your thoughts are far too jumbled to make sense of it all, anyway.

Unknown will do so for you.

"-The prince/ss had no idea that their beloved knight was in the same team with all the horrible liars. God... our poor, poor prince/ss..." The voice purrs, suddenly just a few inches away from you, and you feel a cold slender finger caress your cheek lovingly. You lean into the cool touch, a welcome change for the ever-growing fever burning you up from the inside out. Your eagerness is not unnoticed by Unknown, who chuckles in what seems to be amusement, and walks away, much to your visible dismay. He never gives you what you want, however small it is. You wonder if he finds some sick sense of enjoyment in teasing you with a carrot on a string like that. He continues his story, not addressing your little whine of displeasure in any way. Which is probably for the better. He didn't like whiny brats, after all.

"It's a good thing that... the prince/ss had a guardian angel looking over them. Waiting for a chance to take them under his caring wing, and guide them to paradise."

A moment of deafening silence passes, almost as if Unknown had to think over his narrative for a good while before continuing. You never could understand what was going through that head of his. His expression is stoic, unreadable. Almost like he's not even fully there, just staring ahead without seeing a thing. Stuck in his own perverted fantasy, rather than facing the reality in front of him. It's almost unnerving to look at. Then, a harsh clap makes you twitch in your seat, a numb ache drilling into your temples from the loudness of it bashing against your already overstimulated senses. The man didn't seem to care for your discomfort, though, simply patting you on the head as if you were nothing but a plush toy.

"...How about it, party coordinator!? Hm? A beautiful story, no?"

You open your mouth to say something - anything - but, all that comes out is a single raspy breath, your thoughts tangling together into one blurred lump of obscure concepts, before you could latch onto even a single word for you to utter aloud. Unknown appears to be unaffected by your lack of a proper response, though. It's like he doesn't even see you as a human. Just an inanimate object to play around with.

His pretty doll to put on this twisted play with.

His footsteps grow farther away from you as he pulls away from you once again. Then, a gentle sound of a curtain being pulled back, the fabric tossed unceremoniously onto the stage and sliding off of it to crumple up somewhere beneath it. A beautiful decorations turned into a useless floor mop in a single move. A grim reminder that nothing in this room was truly valuable in its master's eyes. Including you.

You decide to look up towards the sound, your vision bleary as you stare ahead, trying to force your brain into actually processing what you see, instead of just letting it stay an unfocused blob of shapes and colors. Your cloudy gaze meets a similar one of a breathtaking ruby color. Like two spectacular jewels shining in brilliant stage lights, brighter than any of them, yet so dull and lifeless at the same time. Something pulls at your insides once you make eye contact with a beautiful silver-haired stranger sitting opposite from you. It's urging you to fight against the heavy fog filling your head like some higher power you have no control over. A name sits just on the tip of your tongue, yet so far away. It perches itself right in the middle of your throat like a lump of acidic bile, scratching painfully at your esophagus, suffocating you from the inside out. Demanding to be set free, yet warning you against it.

You... knew this person. From somewhere. You wonder... if maybe... just maybe-

"And, here's our noble knight!" You quickly redirect your attention back to Unknown, internally berating yourself for getting distracted from what's truly important here. His leather jacket is exposing his boney shoulder to you, a large intricate image of an eye boring straight into your soul. The symbol is a familiar one. But, in a different way. It leaves your skin prickling with a disgusting sensation of cold sweat dripping down your back. You suddenly start to feel nauseous for some reason.

...You look away from it.

Instead, your raise gaze eyes at Unknown's face. His mint eyes sparkle in blinding lights of the makeshift stage he has put up just for you. It's the complete opposite of the dull and unfocused look present in the Knight's stare. There is an almost childlike glee swimming in his irises while he looks between you and the Knight, as if he is pursuing your personal approval in this intricate game of make-believe. Yet, it does not feel innocent nor really happy in nature. His grin is a sadistic one. Callous. Heartless. Lacking of any true warmth and affection for you, no matter what friendly front he tries to put on in front you. It makes you gulp, a silent warning of danger lurking in those cold eyes that does not escape you, even through the thick fog filling your head. He has you trained well, after all.

So, despite your ever growing discomfort gripping at your guts, you make sure to play your role diligently. You smile, providing him with appreciation he wordlessly demands from his prince/ss. His wicked grin widens once he sees your positive reception, his chest puffing out in what looks like pride, as he now stands behind the Knight, placing his hands onto his shoulders. His posture is relaxed, yet you can see his long fingers digging into the Knight's shoulders with way more force than necessary. Through it all, his gaze never leaves you, not even for a second. It feels suffocating. Like he's searching for any sign of imperfection in your behavior, however small, eager to teach his favorite pet a new lesson.

You remain still.

"-Eventually, the Knight did come running for our prince/ss, but... he was too late."

A small, pained groan falls from the Knight's lips, his appearance rather disheveled despite the gorgeous attire he was dressed in to make him look dignified. There are dark rings imbedded into his skin under his eyes, even more noticeable due to the sick paleness of his otherwise flawless complexion. Blemishes and cuts peek out from just underneath the frilly costume. But, you know Unknown prefers his pretty Fairytale to the ugly Truth. So, you pay no mind to imperfections bleeding into your play.

Yet, something tugs at your heartstrings once again the moment the Knight looks on at you, his brows furrowing just a tiny bit as he takes you in. It was unclear if he was feeling confused or distressed. A sudden desire to reach out and cup his cheek unexpectedly fills your senses. A want bring him comfort. A wish to pull him close. A longing to utter the same name that has been gnawing at your throat like a vicious parasite for a good while now. If it wasn't for the fatigue weighing your limbs down in invisible heavy chains of pure steel, you would have probably tried to move towards him without a second thought.

As you grapple with your frazzled mind abruptly acting up against you, the Knight's silver hair was now being combed through and played with by Unknown. With a smirk playing on his chapped lips, he leans in to murmur into the Knight's ear: "Fortunately, there is a happy ending to this fairytale of yours, noble Knight. But, it is up to me to write it."

His words were hopeful, but they still sent a cold chill down your spine for some reason. A sentiment reciprocated by the Knight, judging by the way his hands clenched tightly where they rested on his throne's arm rest.

"N-No..."

His voice is quiet and raspy. Yours is very similar. It makes your breath hitch in the middle of your throat painfully, your body impulsively leaning towards the two men in front of you. An action not going unnoticed by Unknown, who raises a brow at you pointedly.

You take the hint.

...So, you return back to your place without a word.

"...No...? Oh, but that's not in the script, noble Knight! I thought you were a talented actor, are you not?" Unknown mocks, seemingly more amused than angry at the Knight's disobedience. He tightens his grip on the other man's chin and lifts his head up to make him look him directly in the eye. The Knight groans, probably because of the unpleasant feeling of vertigo caused by such harsh movements. You know Unknown doesn't care for his discomfort. Much like he doesn't care for yours. You are just glad that it's not you who's on the receiving end of his attention right now. He continues, his tone suddenly shifting from mocking to shockingly tender. The change is so quick, it almost gives you a whiplash. "Poor, poor Knight... Is your head hurting? Here, take the magic potion to make all your pain disappear... This one was specially manufactured by me. Just for you."

Unknown pulls out a familiar mint liquid shimmering inside a small flask, and you immediately look away from the scene, your entire face scrunching up at the mere sight of it, almost involuntarily. Just seeing that specific shade of mint brings back the bitter taste of pungent chemicals burning at your lips that you are painfully familiar with. You just stare ahead blankly, listening to the gruesome sounds of coughing, gagging and choking that soon follow. It's a grisly change from the soft-spoken narration that was filling the room just moments prior. What you focus on, though, is the quiet murmurs of encouragements Unknown was cooing to the Knight as the acrid liquid pours down his throat forcefully, burning anything it touches, without any mercy.

You couldn't understand Unknown. One moment he could be cruel, and the next he could be loving. Cold and indifferent, and then almost giddy with some twisted sense of excitement. With him in the room, you always feel like you are walking the thinnest of tightropes, just on the edge of plummeting down into the abyss filled with dozens of wolves hungry for your blood, and all it would take is just a single wrong move from you. Today, though, he seems to be in a rather good mood.

You don't know how happy you should be about that, though.

After the flask falls to the floor with a loud clatter, you look up and witness an eerie sight unfolding before you. Unknown's hands are now gripping the Knight's chin and wrist in a rather painful-looking grasp, forcing him into what he probably perceives as an honorable pose: with the Knight's head held high and one of his arms stretching out towards you. It looks rather disturbing, though, as you take note of the Knight's labored breaths and an ugly stain of mint against his pretty clothes. You can see him actively struggling not to throw up, his lips trembling, and his face even paler than it was before, twisted in an expression of agony that left your chest burning for a completely different reason than that same hazy fever weighing you down.

You were intimately familiar with that horrid experience. You stayed still for that exact reason. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of the Unknown's 'help' next. Maybe a bit cowardly of you, but you did not care.

"-C'mon! Act happy! You said your dream is to act until you die. That's what you said at your last punishment, is it not?"

Unknown is merciless towards the poor man, shaking him like a ragdoll and only making his already rather dizzy state even worse. Then, he looks up at you and jerks his head at you, indicating that he wants you to come over. You freeze, suddenly more uncomfortable than you've ever felt before. But, you know better than to resist. So, you listen. Pushing through the fatigue and pain screaming at you to stay still, you stand up from your throne slowly, and clumsily make your way over to the two men opposite from you, struggling not to trip over your own two feet, with how shaky they felt under you.

Unknown grins, looking at you with a glint of pride in his eyes. It almost makes up for the nausea and weakness you have to endure constantly. Almost. You do end up stumbling as you finally walk up to them, but Unknown graciously moves over to hold you up, his hands gripping your waist in a rather gentle hold for someone so brutal in his ways. It makes you want to lean against him, to let him support you when you can't stand. But... you know he won't do that. And, just as quickly as his hands grab you, they are suddenly gone.

And you realize that you are now seated on the Knight's lap.

The beautiful silver-haired man, now in such close proximity to you, was so close that you could make out each individual lash fluttering around his dangerously attractive eyes of scarlet hue. Though, now that you were able to stare at them that much closer, you could see tiny dots if mint mudding that pretty shade of red. You didn't like that. He seems to share your bewildered and enthralled state of mind, gazing down at you with a shocked expression that probably echoed your own.

The spell breaks once you hear Unknown's voice echoing against the walls around you, now circling you two like a hungry cat playing with its food. Even though you don't look back at him, you can still hear a smirk present in his voice as he begins to utter his next words to you in a gentle hiss flowing through the air. You wonder if that's how the jealous Serpent's words of corruption sounded to Eve, as it whispered its sweet deception into her ears with a false promise of greater knowledge. It makes you clutch onto the Knight's shirt tighter than would be considered appropriate, making his breath hitch at your touch.

"Now, this time, make sure to court your beloved prince/ss with true love they deserve. You owe them this much for all the ugly lies you poisoned them with." Unknown's voice is husky, almost quiet enough for you to miss it completely. Yet, for some strange reason, it fills your ears with such force that he might as well be yelling. You gaze up at the Knight, refusing to move a single muscle. There is some wordless understanding flickering between you two, one that you cannot recognize fully due to the hazy state of your mind. But, you can feel it. A timid ticklish sensation fluttering somewhere deep within your ribcage, like a butterfly that has just come out of its cocoon and doesn't have the strength to take flight just yet.

Then, a hand reaches for your cheek. You jolt, the tiniest of gasps escaping past your lips at the unexpected touch that leaves your skin tingling with an uncomfortable warmth that spreads down your neck and pools right in the center of your chest. And then, the Knight's face is just inches away from yours. His breaths are tickling the flush skin of your cheeks with gentle puffs of air. The feeling send your entire body buzzing with some strange energy you can't quite put your finger on. The footsteps circling around you immediately come to an abrupt stop, a heavy silence filling the room once more. If not for the deafening pounding of your heart almost rupturing your eardrums, that is.

"...I think... I've seen you somewhere before..."

The Knight's raspy voice is so close to you that it makes your head spin. You are now fully aware that you have heard that voice before. There is no doubt about it. Just not that dull and hoarse. It reawakens something buried deep within you. A flicker of common sense that got fizzled out by a certain slender boney hand. It sparkles to life, its timid flame burning brighter and brighter, fighting intensively and desperately against the drugged darkness of dissociation you were forcefully put in. Your breathing quickens, your hands begin to tremble where the clutch onto the Knight with their unsteady grip. They are fuzzy, very fuzzy, but you are sure you can remember some instances of you and the Knight sharing some precious moments together.

No... Not you and Knight... You know who this is. How could you not? You've grown so close to him in such a short amount of time. A dazzling actor with a heart so passionate for all that he does, it swept you off your feet.

-But, just as you open your mouth to finally utter the name that has been on the back of your mind this whole time, a cold hand suddenly grips your cheeks in a vice grip, and a deceivingly cheerful voice rings out right next to your ear, making you wince from the harsh loudness of it.

"...I'm your love! Your prince/ss! And you are my Knight."

You suppose this was Unknown's attempt to impersonate your voice. Or maybe it's a mockery. You couldn't really tell. Either way, it was a rather poor attempt for sure. You didn't know if you should feel offended or not. Do you seriously sound like that to him?

Maybe it shouldn't be surprising that he doesn't even see you as an equal. However, that reminder still hurts. In a peculiar surface-level way.

"...You are the prince/ss... I am the Knight..." Your attention is stolen away as the Knight repeats your lines that came from Unknown's lips, sounding like a lifeless robot attemting to poorly imitate human speech. It didn't sound like his voice at all. You frown and are not happy with it. You are not happy with it at all. Without thinking, you lean in, the grip of your hands on his shirt loosening ever so slightly as your lips just about brush against the damp skin of his cheek. That wasn't a kiss, really. You just had a hard time coordinating your movements, so, once you leaned in, your sense of balance was thrown off, and you ended up bumping against him innocently.

But, once you notice your mistake, you don't move away. You don't try to fix it. You don't try to go back to the script you were meant to play. You simply remain in that spot. Frozen. Holding in a breath as your wide eyes stare back into a pair of dull vermillion ones, just as astounded as yours are. Then, you see something change in them. A glimer of reason. Of humanity. Of some deep-rooted fondness for you that was now brought back to life, much like the one you felt simmer within you moments prior.

You feel a pair of large hands suddenly grip your shoulders, bringing you closer to the man in front of you, making your breath hitch. Until you are pressed flush against him, his chest against yours, and your nose tucked into the crook of his neck. It feels almost desperate - the way he holds you close to him. It's like he's trying to protect you from something. You feel him begin to tremble, his breaths short and quick as he shakes his head, his voice sounding so much more life-like now, but still so disoriented, it makes your heart ache.

"No... No. You... You- Y-Y/N...?"

There. The illusion shatters into pieces.

"Stop, stop-!"

You almost whimper and cover yourself as the harsh screech tears through your eardrums. The enticingly soft baritone of Unknown's narration was lost. Replaced by the grating and high-pitched shriek of rage that left you shaking from fear and wanting to run away as fast as you can. Yet, you remain frozen, not even shaking as you sit, stiff as a statue. It's like the fear paralyzed you. Your mind was running a hundred miles per minute, yet your body didn't move a single inch. It was a really uncomfortable feeling to grapple with. Almost like you were locked within your own body, unable to control it the way you were supposed to.

Then, you are harshly yanked back by the collar of your shirt and forced to stumble onto your legs, which quickly give out from under you this time around. It was already hard enough to keep your balance, but with the cold fear gripping your limbs, it was practically impossible. So, you tumbke down onto your knees, like a helpless doll, unable to stand upright without its master holding its strings. Your incompetence elicits an almost guttural growl from Unknown, who stares down at you with pure fury written all over his rather delicate features. It makes you want to shrivel up, crawl into the nearest hole, and die. He roughly pulls you back up, his fingers digging into your forearms rather painfully as he holds you up. Something that is clearly annoying him greatly, and he makes no effort to hide it.

Which is ironic, considering he's the reason you can't even stand straight in the first place.

"Looks like our prince/ss may need more training after all... What a waste." He spats out that last word with such contemt, you swore a part of you has died right then and there. "I guess it's back to the basement for you, party coordinator. I can't have you saying anything stupid on me, can I?"

Before you have any chance to protest, beg, or cry, you are pushed back onto your throne, left to wait for your inevitable punishment. The word 'basement' alone made you want to scream. It's like your body and mind have already learned what that word meant for you, pushing them to go into overdrive just from hearing it. Yet, you are still just as helpless. Trapped within your own weakened body and left at the mercy of Unknown.

As you sit there and grapple with your ever-growing panic, he turns his attention back to the Knight. Or, to be more precise, Zen. No need for any roles when the fairytale has already been sullied.

"You are not ready to be on stage yet." He mutters under his breath, one of his hands now gripping onto the other man's chin as he brings his face almost uncomfortably close, until he's mere inches away from him. You can't see the expression on his face as he has his back to you. But, Zen's eyes flick between you and Unknown, reflecting your fear. The feeling of powerlessness is almost suffocating. Not only can't you help yourself, but you also can't do a single thing for Zen as well. You are both just two dolls for Unknown to mold to his liking.

Or, rather, his Savior's liking.

"-Your eyes are lying."

Unknown's hiss is full of frustration and resentment. You are wondering why he has such a strong dislike for Zen. With you, he seems to be more annoyed at your inability to follow his wishes. Like a kid, irritated at his toy not working properly. But, with Zen? It's almost like he's actively shaping him into something else not out of his own personal twisted desire to do so, but because it's what he has been assigned to do. In other words, forced to.

You wince as you see Unknown's fingernail digging into the other man's skin, just beneath his eye. It's almost like he's holding himself back from actively gouging his eyes out right then and there. The mental image almost makes you want to throw up, frankly. And, the mere fact that you were actually considering such a gruesome thing as a very real possibility... it disturbed you.

"You will play the role you were given. It's only a matter of time. And, as for the prince/ss..." He looks back at you, his expression dark as he looks over you thoughtfully. His stare makes your skin crawl. "I'll take good care of them."

A cruel smile spreads over his face as he stands back from the poor actor. He extends his arms and circles you two once more. But, this time, his voice is loud and commanding. Each word seeping into your ears and digging into your psyche like a swarm of vicious leeches, eager to gobble up what little remained of your common sense.

"And then, we'll start our play again. From the very beginning. Over... and over... and over again. However long it takes. Time is not a problem when you're in Paradise!"

"Now... shall we begin?"

His cold hand gently caresses the side of your face as he stops just behind you. His touch is no longer providing you with any relief. It only heightens the feeling of dread enveloping you like a dense cloud of smoke.

[13eyond13]

.

[frankenhorror]

Queerness and neurodivergency and other ways of being different from the "average" person - inborn ways - are so....applicable. To horror movies.

You see a character succumb to what they've been fighting against - something within themselves, who and what they are - and they just...they let go. They stop fighting. They become whatever they've always been.

Based on narrative, such a letting go is either negative or positive...in some cases, it's both.

This is repeated through countless horror movies. Countless horror media.... It's the personal context that comes from the life of whoever is watching, that is what makes this stuff click. If you do not have a "different" life, you may be able to see the connections but you will not understand to the fullest - because you do not live with that extremely personal battle within yourself.

[aromanticasterisms]

women 👍

[evanescentdawn]

hhehehehe I love being able to write abt my ninja boys, I had a long period that was Just frustrating struggle akin to dragging through mud cuz nothing was wording but the stars must be aligned right now cuz I was working on this wip I had and it’s been GOING (rereading bookmarked ninjago fics did its wonders<3) n it’s v insanely fun to work on. and oh my god I have to say Jay is my fav character to write so far he’s so <3 I want him in my pocket!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey, guys!”

Jay looked over. Cole was walking towards them, Kai alongside him. They went out to scout the area. There was something in their expressions that lit up hope in Jay.

He sprang to his feet. “What is it? Did you guys find something? Are we going home? Did you hear from Master —”

“Woah, hold your horses sparky.” Cole said. “Nothing like that.”

“There’s pretty much nothing out there,” Kai said. “Just a bunch of more weirdly tall trees —”

—“Weirdly creepy tall trees,” Jay corrected —

“But just as we were about to give up, we came across some kind of weird pavement.”

“Weird pavement?” Zane questioned.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “It was made of yellow and pink coloured stone. We followed it and found a place I think we can shelter in.”

“That’s the best news I could have heard. No, the second best news.” Jay said, excitedly. “The best news would be being able to get out of this place but this is the next best thing. I hope it has a bath. I need a bath desperately.”

He felt all sweaty and awful under his ninja garb. It wasn’t warm here, leaning on the cold side but — Jay didn’t know what exactly it was. His skin felt weird under his ninja garp. Itchy, too warm and terrible. Because he hadn’t, urgh, changed out of it in hours even after they had that fight and got rolled in dirt. A lot.

It wasn’t their greatest moment.

“I don’t know about your bath,” Kai said. “We didn’t check inside. There’s some kind of lock but we figure Zane should be able to crack it.”

[beardedhandstoadshark]

What is your thoughts on "the protagonist is actually insane/in a coma" fan theory?

Omg lowkey rant in the tags incoming, but outing myself here I used to be really into them back when they were popular. You name it, I‘ve probably heard of it and been genuinely into them, too.

But as fun as they are for babies first edgy fan theory, once the novelty wore off, they just suck out any fun and nuance of things for clickbait and edge. How dare a story be fantastical, surely the writers secretly conspired these minute details to overshadow the dark and sad reality lying underneath! And not just that they. Wanted to write something cool and fun.

Plus for me the fun thing about theories is that chance that it could be true, or the way things can build in fun way from there - the what if? But with these, it’s kinda…missing? "Ash is in a coma and pokemon are fake“. "The very happy girl in a happy kids show is addicted to antidepressants“. Ok. What now? There’s nothing to pull from here, no where to go, no lines to draw. It’s empty.

The one exception I‘ve got is when there’s some genuinely weird things going on with the worldbuilding and plot that it actually fits in as a proper theory. Then it’s cool! But in that case the " - is in a coma“ part is also just happenstance lol.

[monstersflashlight]

Okay, hear me out: Oviposition with your insect-morph or alien partner that can go either to a cnc/dubcon play space if you want, but like...reader slowly becomes addicted to being a broodmother. Bonus points if reader is a fembunny with strong breeding instinct? :3

A/N: Hi there! This was hella fun to write, I though it would make more sense not to make reader a bunny hybrid but hope this meets all your expectations, I personally think turned out pretty good. (Also want to recommend this Stardew Valley fic because it’s the first time I read brood-mother kink and it def changed my perspective). Enjoy!

Brood-mother

Insect-monsters x fem!reader || oviposition, free use, heavy dub-con, breeding, brood-mother kink, aphrodisiacs

You walked into that cave without idea, without knowing what the fuck you were supposed to do there. When the wizard hired you for a special mission, going as far as looking specifically for you because apparently you had everything he needed, you didn’t argue much. He said some cryptic stuff as he gave you instructions to walk into the cave and look for something, he only said you’ll know when you found it, and you, silly you, accepted. It was good money, and it seemed simple enough, even if the wizard was creepy as fuck and you didn’t even know what you were looking for.

You had been walking in the cave for less than ten minutes when you felt something against your back, and you fell face down to the ground. You didn’t have time to turn around, didn’t have time to react before you felt some slimy substance around your hands and ankles. It was disgusting and you tried to get it off but you couldn’t move, the substance pinned you down to the ground. You were panicking, unable to move in any direction… and then you felt it. It was like tiny pokes against your back, against your legs, and buzzing sounds that made you shiver. What was that?

You turned your head to the side in time to see a bunch of crawling-insects running in your direction, you were about to scream when something was shoved inside your mouth. You didn’t know what it was, but it tasted amazing and you latched to it, sucking strongly to get more of that substance. The reaction was fast, your whole body getting hotter as you felt the first insects getting to your body.

The tore your clothes off, your body being stripped as you groaned and moaned against the weird thing in your mouth, unable to scream, unable to stop sucking that sweet nectar that was driving you slowly insane. You barely remembered the words of the wizard when they said you would be prepared and ready when they arrived. What seemed cryptic at the moment made total sense when you realized they were preparing you for them, they were making sure you were fertile and breedable for them.

They needed a queen… and they found you.

That was your last thought before you felt something akin to a cock was shoved into your pussy without preamble. It felt weird, ridged and harder than a human penis, but it rubbed against your walls in a way that made your head dizzy with pleasure as you got wetter and wetter. It didn’t take long before you felt the appendage parting inside of you, the side pressing against your G-spot, the tip probing at your cervix before something was inserted into your uterus. An egg. They were laying eggs inside of you. You wanted to run away, to scream… to care. But it felt so good. It felt too good and your brain wasn’t even yours anymore, you could only think of pleasure and breeding, of being full of them so you could be their queen. Their real queen.

That cock was pulled out and another took its place, thrusting into your body without mercy as you squirmed in pleasure, your pussy convulsing as you came around it. Another egg was pushed inside you. And another dick shoved inside your dripping pussy. An egg. A dick. An egg. A dick. It was an intoxicating circle that drove your brain and body into a frenzy.

You’d never felt something like that, being at the complete mercy of creatures you couldn’t even name was making you aroused, aroused to the point of juices pooling under your body. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, but deep down you knew you were just perverted, and the fact that you were just a fuck-hole to breed for them… it made you hot. The idea that you will be pregnant with all their eggs… it made your clit tingle harder as another egg was pushed inside of you. It was intoxicating.

It continued for hours, they pumped you so full of eggs you felt about to explode, your stomach distended pushed your body into an awkward angle that only made your pussy more available for the next round. So many of them filled you, you lost count of how many eggs there could be inside of you. You came so many times you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

But then the buzzing stopped. “Shush little explorer, I’ve sent them away, they already did their job… They found the brood-mother,” the creepy voice of the wizard resonated inside your half asleep brain as you felt the slimy restrains disappear and he took your body, too tired to fight back.

[alyakthedorklord]

Batman the Playboy

Justice League, not quite early days but before proper identity reveals, though everyone knows Batman knows theirs, bc he has Opinions™ and Constructive Criticisms™ on their secret-keeping.

The issue is brought up on random occasions. The most notable incident- the Justice League, including Batman, being Drunk for Bonding, (or hit with some kind of drug while out saving the world) and Batman, in a fit of paranoid good intentions because he CARES about these idiots, damnit, why must they be so careless, starts insulting them.

Batman, leaning heavily on the table: “GL, you’re a mess, I don’t even know where to start with you. And Arrow! Your goatee is so distinctive, it’s a wonder no one has called you out on it-“

Green Arrow, also drunk: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair-”

Batman, in despair: “It’s so ugly.”

Green Arrow: (offended noises)

Green Lantern: “Okay, the only reason you know our secret identities is because you’re a rude nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creepy stalker who needs an ego boost! We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite. We could figure you out easily if we wanted to. Superman can see right through your mask!”

Usually, Batman would have a good response to that. Something smart and reasonable like “villains won’t care for your privacy, I’m testing you,” or something cutting like “I don’t care enough about you to go digging, I set your secret identity as a training exercise for Robin.”

However, Batman is Drunk, because for some reason imbibing drugs that dampen higher brain function is socially acceptable and often, for some reason, expected, because it’s “team bonding” and “come on just loosen up a bit.” (Also for him, drunk=Brucie)

So what Batman ends up saying is: “I could kiss you full on the lips in my secret identity and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

Superman, plucking the glass from Batman’s hand: “Aaaand that is enough alcohol for you!”

Batman nods. Thank God. He wants to go home and sleep. But first: “Superman, yours is so stupid it’s almost impressive-”

———

Of course, Green Lantern has smelled a challenge. And Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true superpower. So, the next time they meet (sober) he brings up the issue again.

GL: “So about what you said at the party… the part where you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. You still confident in that without liquid courage, Spooky? Bet you your real name you can’t do it.”

Batman, regretting the fact that alcohol has ever passed his lips: “I could do it, but I will not.”

Flash, curious: “Why’s that?”

Batman: “Informed Consent. I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet and my ego.”

GA, still offended by the goatee comment, trying to back Batman into a corner: “So if we give consent, we’re fair game? Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off. Anyone else game?”

Some of the Justice League laughs, raising their hands.

Flash: “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

Wonder Woman: “It could be amusing.”

Martian Manhunter: “I would be far too difficult a target.”

Green Arrow: “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary: “D-class, maybe.”

Superman, wants a kiss in on the fun: 🙋🏻‍♂️

“So that’s it then!” Green Lantern says smugly. “Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands? Ah yes- HALF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE, without anyone realizing it’s you, then you win.”

Batman scoffs and walks out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because- Batman? Being good enough at flirting to land a kiss on half the league, without it being forced or awkward, without them recognizing his body language, his voice, his build? How ridiculous!

The Batman is Autistic. The Batman does not understand jokes, especially not ones that are half truths. The Batman has consent, and something to prove.

And Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, and sexy DILF, has targets.

(Please tell me how you think he gets each League member.)

Edit: there have been a bunch of awesome additions in the notes! My own take here.