#like on what grounds are you using to ban dogs???

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀“WHAT?! SEX BAN?!”

﹅ contains ;; gojo satoru , kento nanami , choso kamo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , geto suguru

﹅ alt title ;; how long the jjk men can withstand the sex ban

﹅ warnings ;; sorta sub!choso , whiny!choso , toji's part is more explicit than the others , this is my first time writing for some of the character so i'm sorry if i didn't describe them well

GOJO SATORU (3 days)

“are you serious?” gojo groans, slumping forwards. gojo watched in disappointment as you crossed your arms, looking away from him. "you did it so you have to pay." for weeks, you've been trying to tell gojo to separate the colors from the whites while doing laundry. him just wanting to get it over with, he dumped them all in the same load, ruining some of your favorite pieces of clothing.

"baby, please. i won't do it again," he begs, kneeling in front of you. but to no avail, you stood your ground.

it only took him 3 days to convince you to wave your white flag, surrendering to his seduction. "you look good in my shirts." gojo's hands caress your hips as he presses his chest to your back. "i would be in my clothes if you would just listen to me." you huff, "i never said i was disappointed." gojo whispered, his hard-on pressing on your ass.

“please. just drop the ‘sex ban’. i said i was sorry.” his lips make a trail of kisses on your neck. you needed him too. whenever he wasn’t around, you would use your toys, trying to not let gojo know you were sexually needy. but they didn’t work.

RYOMEN SUKUNA (not happening!)

no. just no. it’s funny that you even thought about putting that in motion. sukuna was too desperate for sex but never wanted to admit it.

“no,” he stood above, crossing his arms, making himself seem bigger than you (as if he even needed to do that). “you can’t deprive me of sex, woman.” he grunts. “but i can, kuna. that’s what you fail to realize.” you tut, standing up to walk away.

one of his four arms wraps around your waist, throwing you back on the soft surface. "you're not going through with this." he growls in your ear, crawling go top of you.

how dare you even think such a thing? you were his woman, his twin flame. you were the only person he showed the littlest respect to and you decide to do some foolery like this.

he tugs your shirt over your head, your bra coming next. his rough hands slide over your chest. "such beauty..." he whispers. "i'll make sure you never think of this again.

KENTO NANAMI (it was on accident)

his job was taking him away from you. between being a jujutsu sorcerer and a businessman, he couldn't find time to be a partner for you.

due to the lack of attention you were receiving, you became sexually pent up, having the urge to pleasure yourself at the worst times. the feeling of neglect was creeping up on you. some days, you forgot nanami even lived with you.

"love, i'm home." nanami tugs off his tie, tossing it to the side. "i don't know how long i can take of this." he rubs his temples, deeply sighing as he led himself to your shared bedroom. before his hand touched the cold metal knob, he heard your muffled moans and the squelching of your cunt.

he slowly opens the door, peeking in the room before fully entering. "it seems i've neglected you." he watches as you quickly cover yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked many times. he unbuttons the top of his shirt as he saunters to the edge of the bed, removing the covers off you.

"seems like i have some things to make up for."

CHOSO KAMO (not even a day)

"please." he whines, his head resting on your lap as he looks up at you. ever since you shared your first time with choso, he's been going at it with you like rabid dogs. if he wasn't inside you, his head was squished in between his thighs.

"choso, i need a break." you sigh, trying to remove him from off you. his grip on your legs was tight as he put his face in between your thighs, shaking his head. he was acting like he couldn't survive without your cunt somehow being involved.

"i swear, i'll leave you alone after. just please," he whined. you couldn't resist him for much longer. you hated when he got all whiny like a baby. he was spoiled because of you.

"fine." you undo the tie of your sweatpants before his hands swatted yours away, tugging your pants and panties off. "i promised you." he kisses your inner thigh before his tongue began flicking away.

TOJI FUSHIGURO (mans was balls deep in you the second you said it)

"you really think so?" he darkly chuckles, rubbing himself on you. "toji, i'm sorry. please." you whine, wiggling your ass on his cock. "i don't think you are." he teases, stepping away from you.

you whine, following him. "it was a joke." you press your hand on his chest. "did i laugh?" he tilts his head, smirking at you. you sigh, "toji, i'm sorry." you press yourself against him, your chest touching his.

"fuck." you knew he couldn't resist the feeling of your chest on him. it was like heaven to him. "turn around." he grunts, gripping your hips to turn you around, bending you over.

he easily slid inside of you due to how wet you got over time. "don't say stuff you don't mean, baby." he laughs, thrusting into your backside. it was worth it.

GETO SUGURU (you gave in after implementing it)

you wanted to test geto's limits, giving him an extra nnn moment which made you realize something. it was always you initiating sex. "geto, please. i give up." you whine, following him around the house.

he chuckles, "everyone must deal with their consequences, my love." he turns to you. he plastered a sinister smile, taunting you. he saw how much you needed him but he wasn't caving in until he heard you say it.

"i'll do anything. my hand isn't even working anymore." you simper. it was starting to become frustrating seeing how calm he was about all of this as you were suffering.

"i need you! is that what you wanted to hear?" you shout, earning a grin from him. he walks closer to you, his finger tracing your jawline, "why didn't you say that sooner, love?" he chuckles.

[ak319]

Dark J.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim

Syno: Word of claim, a tradition where a man fires his weapon outside a woman's home and speaks her name, and in that moment, she becomes his wife. Though long banned, deemed a crime, a taboo… who cares? Outlaws never follow laws, do they? Warnings/MDNI: forced marriage, angst, blackmailing, kidnapping, suggestive non-con, manhandling, in conclusion just men being shit as usual except Hosea-// I don't condone such behavior irl! ✰ -12.5K taglist: @shackspossum @nayykura @whalecage

"You ain't gonna run away this time, BOY!"

The words spurred him on, his pace quickening to a near sprint, even though his legs felt like jelly from the biting cold. He couldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.

Wait...what's that? There, a good hideout.

His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of galloping hooves grew louder behind him. Amateurs. They knew how to buy fine horses but didn't know the first thing about riding them right. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it, the lawmen were dismounting, choosing to pursue him on foot instead.

John vaulted over fence after fence, each leap bringing him closer to the dark silhouette of his salvation.

A barn.

The doors were already ajar. Luck, or maybe fate, was on his side tonight. He wasted no time slipping inside, diving for the best hiding spot he could find amidst the shadows.

Outside, the world was alive with ominous noises, the muffled crunch of boots on frozen ground, the baying of dogs in the distance. The chill in the air seemed to seep straight into his bones, but the tension was far worse.

Dutch and Hosea are gonna kill me if I get caught tonight

After a tense stretch of silence, the barn door creaked open.

"Show yourself," a man's voice demanded, calm but laced with authority. "I know you're in here, I saw you from the porch. Come. Here."

John let out a quiet, defeated sigh. He had no other choice. Slowly, he emerged from his hiding spot, muscles taut with apprehension. His eyes landed on the figure of a man, no badge, no uniform. Just a regular man. Probably the owner.

"Sir--look, it was just a pickpocketing offense, I swear! Just let me stay here for the night--no, no, scratch that. J- Just give me some water, and I'll leave! But please, don't call them back, I-"

"You got nerves."

The man stepped closer, his gaze heavy and unforgiving.

"You come onto my property, and you think I’m gonna coddle your sorry ass? I've seen plenty of boys like you in my time, desperate, and reckless, they always end up worse than this."

John flinched, not just at the sharpness of the words but at the dull throb of his wounds from the earlier scuffle with the officers. His voice wavered, desperation bleeding through every syllable.

"Please...sir. Just--water... and I'll be out of your hair-"

The man didn’t even hesitate. Without a word, he struck John across the face, sending him sprawling onto the cold, hard floor. Stars danced in his vision, but before he could even register what had happened, the man grabbed him roughly, hauling him up like he weighed nothing.

John struggled, but it was no use. The man dragged him out of the barn, his grip like iron.

Outside, the officers were waiting by the gate, their grim expressions lit by the flicker of lantern light. John’s heart sank as the man shoved him forward, handing him over without a second thought.

"You wanted him? Here he is."

"What's going on outside?" you asked, placing the folded clothes your mother had handed you into the cupboard. Your expression mirrored her own as curiosity and concern flitted across her face. Without hesitation, both of you hurried to the porch to see what was causing the commotion in the distance.

"Make sure he learns his lesson. Boys like him should never go unpunished," your father’s voice carried stern authority, cutting through the cold night air.

The officer gripping John roughly by the arm nodded with a self-satisfied grin. "As if that’s even a question. This little shit’s been stealing from a lot of folks around here. Thanks for the help."

John, still reeling from your father’s earlier slap and the rough handling of the lawmen, struggled to stay on his feet. His breaths came in short gasps, his legs wobbling under him. From where he stood, his bruised gaze caught sight of two figures on the porch. Shadows obscured their faces, but there was no mistaking it.

You, a girl, around his age. Standing behind your mother.

A pang of something sharp, humiliation, resentment, or despair, stabbed through him.

"Tsk, kids these days," your mother muttered under her breath. She shook her head and ushered you back inside, the door closing firmly behind you, shutting out the scene.

It wasn’t long before your father joined you in the living room, his face stern as he explained what had happened. A boy of sixteen--three years older than you--tried to hide in the barn after looting folks and thought he could get away with it.

"This is why one should always stay alert," your mother sighed, sinking into her chair with a shake of her head.

Meanwhile, John sat in the cold, damp cell, shivering as time passed. He waited, days blending into one another, the monotony broken only by the gnawing ache in his stomach and the wish to escape.

Then Dutch came. Days later, the gang leader strode in and bailed him out, though not without delivering the most humiliating lecture John had ever endured.

"You think this is what it means to be a Van der Linde? You think crawling around barns like a whipped dog is what I taught you?! If you’re gonna live, you fight for it. You hear me, boy? You fight."

John clenched his jaw and bore it, but the sting of those words didn’t come close to the bitterness curdling inside him. He couldn't shake the memory of your father standing over him, cold and unrelenting. Denying him even the smallest shred of mercy.

Kindness, was that too much to ask for?

The years had been cruel, but this moment burned. He’d lived through enough to know that most people treated him like a piece of dirt under their boots. But this time, it was harder to swallow.

His words echoed in his mind.

"People like you don’t deserve kindness. You’re a lesson, boy, a warning to others."

John replayed it over and over as he rode back to camp. The fury in his chest smoldered alongside an ache he couldn’t explain. But what also stayed with him most was the fleeting glimpse of you, standing behind your mother on the porch.

Oh...he won't ever forget that night.

❀˖°

"Are you insane?! What are you, twelve?!" Hosea’s voice rose, his frustration nearing its peak and so was the urge to bang his head against a tree.

"I’m not a kid, and it’s about time you stopped treating me like one!"

Hosea’s eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his temper flared. "Look, John, this isn’t just about doing it! It’s about what happens after! Are you in your damn senses? You can barely take care of yourself, and here you are, standing there, demanding to do this shit like you’ve got it all figured out!"

John smirked, his chuckle low and mocking. "That’s exactly why I’m doing it, old man. To bring someone to care for me."

Hosea froze for a moment, disbelief washing over him before disgust replaced it. "You’ve lost it," he muttered under his breath. With a grimace, he stormed toward Dutch’s tent, muttering curses under his breath.

Dutch glanced up as Hosea approached, his ever-watchful gaze already settled on the scene. "No need to explain, Hosea," Dutch said calmly, snapping his book shut. "I heard it all."

John strolled in behind Hosea, with his usual casual swagger. He leaned lazily against the pole of Dutch’s tent, his smirk still in place.

"John," Dutch began, his voice low and measured. "You sure you know what you’re getting into? This ain’t some childish stunt."

"I know exactly what I’m doing, Dutch," John replied smoothly, though the fire in his eyes betrayed his calm facade. "It’s time I take something for myself."

"You are talking about a whole-ass human here!"

"I don’t see what’s wrong with it," Dutch drawled, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Boy wants to marry... let the boy marry. Am I right?"

Hosea’s jaw dropped, his face a perfect picture of disbelief. "Dutch, don’t tell me you’ve lost your fucking mind too! You’re gonna let this little--God help me--this child pull some old tradition stunt?! What, are you trying to check off every damn crime we’ve missed on your list?"

Dutch let out a soft snort, clearly amused by Hosea’s exasperation. Without a word, he stood and moved to shut the flaps of the tent. Wouldn’t want Annabelle overhearing now, would he? No sense in tarnishing her view of him.

"Hosea, Hosea, Hosea. We’re outlaws, remember? And this-" he waved a hand toward John, who stood with his arms crossed, a stubborn set to his jaw, "this is nothing."

“Nothing?” Hosea’s voice cracked, raw with incredulity. “That’s a person, Dutch, not some goddamn prize you can pluck from a house like a trinket! And what happens when John realizes he’s too immature to handle this? Huh? What then?”

Dutch shrugged, unbothered, his calm exterior unshaken. “Then he can toss her aside. Send her back. Leave her somewhere if it comes to it. But why fret over what might happen when we’ve got a score to secure now?”

Hosea looked like he might combust on the spot. “Are you listening to yourself?! Toss her aside?” he repeated, his voice rising. "You want John to ruin someone’s life because he’s too stubborn to let go of a grudge?!”

“It's not that big of a deal."

Hosea scoffed and glared daggers at John. But Dutch continued.

"Besides," Dutch added, tilting his head toward John with a knowing look. "Didn’t you mention they’re loaded? That true, son?"

John nodded, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Yeah… big house. Plenty of land too."

Dutch’s grin widened, "There you go, Hosea. A little risk, a big reward. Ain’t that what we’re all about?"

Hosea shook his head, exasperation dripping from every word. "So you’re gonna loot them too? Good Lord, have mercy. You’re gonna make that poor girl lose her mind in less than a day! Look... I think looting is a fine alright? So how bout' we just do that? Isn't that enough damage, John?"

"Oh yeah? And then what?! As if that's gonna affect his rich ass! That's not enough damage! Money comes and goes...but honor doesn't. I wanna strip him of his dignity! Men like him--rich snobby assholes--that's what they deserve! And this is what we are supposed to do! We are not some bunch of softies ol' man!"

"John but you are not-"

"I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!" John’s voice was raw with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "Just like her daddy didn’t give a fuck about me! So why the hell should I, huh? Why should I!?"

"I’ve never seen a man so petty in my entire life. Grow the hell up, John! You’re twenty-three, for God’s sake, and you’re still hung up on something that happened years ago. Dutch! Tell him-"

"ENOUGH!" Dutch’s booming voice cut through the chaos, his towering form commanding silence as he paced the length of the tent.

"I allow it," Dutch declared, his tone final. "John...I give you my blessing." He glanced at Hosea, raising a brow. "Hosea, how do you think outlaws got married back in the day, huh? Even now, people loathe us and spit on us. And why? Because we don’t follow their precious rules. Well, guess what? We’re outlaws. We don’t play nice. But we ain’t that bad, are we? And we require some good cash for the move. This is a good opportunity, no doubt."

Hosea groaned, dragging a hand down his face, muttering something about losing his sanity.

But John didn’t hear any of it. Dutch’s words were all he needed. A smirk spread across his face as he turned and strode out of the tent, his mind already racing ahead to the moment he would face your father. The thrill of it burned in his chest, the prospect of taking the one thing that man must cherish above all else.

Just like he didn’t respect my dignity, I won’t respect his, John thought, his resolve hardening with every step.

He remembered the day he first laid eyes on you, properly, for the first time. It was at your sister's wedding, though he had only been a silent, distant observer. From the shadows of the tree line, he saw you, a vision of elegance and quiet beauty, entirely unaware of his presence. Pretty, he thought then, prettier than he had imagined.

Pretty enough to be taken, both from home and...

Your father would have loved seeing your pretty tears if he decided to go with that plan...

He could have made his move right then. Could have stepped out of the shadows, disrupted the festivities, and declared his claim in front of everyone. The laughter, and the music, all of it could have stopped on his word.

But he didn’t. He stayed hidden, watching you smile and dance, every moment searing itself into his memory. No, he thought. Not yet. This required precision. Patience.

Through his web of old connections and childhood companions, people who owed him favors or thrived on chaos, he kept tabs on you and your family. Quietly. He bided his time, gathering everything he needed to strike when the moment was right.

And now, that moment was near. Everything had fallen into place. All his waiting, all his planning, it had led to this. You would be his. Not because he could take you, but because you would have no choice. Neither will your father.

"Boys...let's go, my treat."

"Got the permission?" Javier glanced up from the fire.

John let out a low chuckle. Sean joined in, his wild energy spreading through the air like a spark.

“Permission? Your brother here got the 'Dutch' blessing.” Their laughter was like a haunting chorus as if they had no care for anything and anyone.

The three hooted, grinning to themselves, heading towards the stables. But just before John could mount his horse, a voice called out to him again.

"John..."

“What now?” John sighed with a hint of frustration. He didn't want to listen. He didn’t need to hear any more warnings, he had made up his mind.

“Just... what if you had a sister, and it happened to her, son?”

He gritted his teeth, and for a moment, his mind flashed to something else, something buried deep within.

Damn it, I know he's right, but my reason is more important than that. Throw her out? Destroy her life? The words replayed in his mind, loud and damning. A part of him bristled at the idea, hell, wasn’t that what he’d been dreaming about? Taking something back for himself, ruining your father's life? But another part, quieter yet sharper, whispered back. And then what? What kind of man does that make you, John?

Hell, John didn't know what would happen, how this would all play out. He didn't even know how he would make it through this, let alone anyone else involved. But in the moment, it felt too distant, too abstract to fully grasp.

No...

Why the fuck should I care?

It wasn’t his problem. His mind was made up. It wasn’t about what they would face, this is a matter of his honor and self-will. The kid never did learn to respect boundaries and to listen. And damn the consequences. For now, John just had to move forward. The rest could burn.

“Well, that’s why I don’t have one. Let’s go, boys.”

The words hung in the air, bitter and final. There was no turning back now. Hosea, standing off to the side, watched as John’s figure disappeared into the dusk with the others. The old man sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his years, and his regrets. He turned his gaze toward Dutch’s tent, where the gang leader sat, listening to music with an air of nonchalance.

If only… if only your father had shown him mercy that night. If only he had opened his door and shared a shred of kindness. Maybe then, he’d be a hidden guard dog for the family, ready to lay down his life for them.

But it was too late for that now.

❀˖°

"(Y/N)--Oh my God, this girl---HEY! Wake up!" Your mother’s sharp voice sliced through the morning quiet as she stormed into your room. You groaned, snatching the covers back over your head.

"Let me be!" you mumbled, burrowing deeper into the bed.

But your mother wasn’t having it. She yanked the covers off with a vengeance, ignoring your muffled protests. "You listen to me, young woman! Get up, have breakfast, and help with dinner! Or have you forgotten your sister is visiting this evening?"

You groaned dramatically, rolling onto your stomach. "What do we even have maids for?"

"They are doing other stuff, (Y/N)! Oh my God! Get your lazy ass up. I swear, your father’s coddling has turned you into a complete bum!" Your mother threw her hands up in frustration before softening her tone, just slightly. "I’m going to prepare your breakfast, honey, but you better be down to help with some things. You need to start learning this stuff someday. In fact, I’m telling your father to start looking for suitors soon-"

"HEY! HEY!" You leaped out of bed, cutting her off. "Woman, calm down! I swear, a hundred witches must’ve died for you to end up as my mother."

Undeterred, you leaned in, pinching her cheeks with a mischievous grin. "Like, c’mon, you’re so lucky to have birthed me and you are going to just send me away like that? No, not happening."

She swatted your hands away, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Are you done?"

"Not yet, " you teased, smirking. "Firstly, that day is far away--no--it's nonexistent. And secondly, even if it happens, tell Papa either he sends a servant with me as a marriage gift, or he makes sure there’s a line of them wherever he fixes the marriage which I think he sure will anyway. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine staying here."

Your teasing tone only made her groan in frustration. "Tsk, get out of my way. You’ve already wasted my precious time. And make yourself presentable before coming down to wolf your food!"

You stretched your limbs with a lazy chuckle, savoring every second as you took your sweet time getting downstairs.

After finishing your breakfast, you placed the empty plate on the kitchen table and took a long sip of your coffee. "Mama, just tell me what I have to help with so I can get it done and go play."

Your mother turned to you with an incredulous look, hands already on her hips. "Excuse me? For God's sake, (S/N) and Leo are coming for the first time after the marriage. Can’t you skip your silly games just this once? I swear, (Y/N), grow up! You’re not five anymore. You and those girlfriends of yours!"

This was a familiar battleground between the two of you, and honestly, you enjoyed riling her up about it. What’s wrong with living your life and having some fun with your pals?

"Mama, don’t be pouty just because you didn’t get to enjoy your youth, alright?" you teased with a grin. "Besides, we play right out on the lawn! Maybe they can even help us with dinner-"

"NO!" she cut you off sharply. "The last time you brought them into the kitchen just to get water, my whole crockery set was broken! Keep them far away from my kitchen!"

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, "Jeez… you’re a totally different person when guests are about to come."

"What did you say?" she snapped, making you jump slightly.

"Nothing! Nothing....." Please don't start again. With a sigh, you began assisting, grumbling internally about how overly dramatic and anxious she always got before any visitors showed up.

❀˖°

You were setting the table, having just come back from the lawn after instructing Mateo, the gardener, to move some pots around.

"My lovely daughter looks as lovely as always," your father said warmly, patting your head before joining you to help with the table.

You grinned and leaned closer, whispering with a giggle, "Your wife really knackered me today, Mr. (L/N)."

That earned a wheezy laugh from him. "Now you know what it’s like to deal with her every day, kid."

"Papa," you whined, playfully dragging out the word. "I hate when she brings up those stupid marriage talks! I swear, she’s going to ambush you about it next. So when she does, just dodge it. Okay?"

Your father paused, turning to you with a softer, more thoughtful look. "For how long, though, (Y/N)? Isn't it gonna happen someda-"

"Shush!" you cut him off, placing your hand firmly over his face.

He chuckled at your antics as you grinned mischievously. "No, no, no. You’re supposed to be on my side and say, ‘Of course, dear.’"

"Alright, alright, as you wish. Of course, dear. I’ll ignore her."

"Ignore who? Hm?"

Both of you jumped, startled, as your mother appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of glasses, her focus seemingly on the task but her tone suspicious.

"Nothing," you both said in perfect unison, struggling to keep straight faces.

Your mother rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced, and glanced pointedly at the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner. "Where is (S/N) anyway? They’re running late, aren’t they?"

"Relax darling, they might be here by 7. Let's all relax for a while." Just as you all three sat down on the living room couch, loud hooves could be heard. But it didn't sound like just a single horse carrying your brother-in-law and sister, it sounded more than that. "They came in a carriage or something?" You asked giddily and your father got up.

"I'll go check."

Outside, the night seemed unnaturally quiet, save for the restless shifting of hooves on gravel. The stillness in the air was unsettling, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Then came the sound, the sharp reports of gunshots cutting through the silence.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Then the sixth...

“(Y/N) (L/N)!”

Your name was like a chilling punctuation that seemed to freeze time.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a call. It sounded like a declaration, a command that seemed to cut through the very air around you. You had no idea what was happening or what the hell even was that. But for your parents, it was a blow to their very core.

“Wh-at-what was that? Who-” Your words caught in your throat as you turned to your parents.

Your mother’s face drained of color, her hands trembling as she reached for you. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“(M/N), get her out of here,” your father said, his tone low but brimming with an intensity that made your stomach twist. He hadn’t even turned to look at you; his eyes were locked on the door, his jaw tight.

“Will someone tell me-”

“I said GO!” His voice boomed now, reverberating through the walls.

Your mother didn’t hesitate. Her fingers dug into your arm as she dragged you toward the staircase, her steps hurried and uneven. The panic in her movements was more terrifying than the voice outside.

You stumbled up the stairs, half-dragged, half-running. At the top, your mother shoved you into your bedroom and spun around, shutting the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.

“Mama! What’s going on?!”

Her hand hovered over the handle, shaking, but she didn’t turn back. “Stay here,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The door clicked shut, the lock turning with a dull finality.

Downstairs, the scene was entirely different as your father swung open the door,. The guard stationed at the gate was on the ground. Dead? Stabbed? Knocked out? (F/N) couldn't tell because his attention was on the four men standing rigidly by their horses. The one in the center, who had fired the shots moments ago, stood with his hands clasped in front of him, the barrel of his gun still gripped tightly in one hand. His smile, wide and disturbingly sweet, suggested he thought he’d done something worthy of praise, though the horror in your father’s chest told a different story entirely.

Sick--sick--sick bastard.

"What the hell you guys want?! Get off my property before I report the authorities!"

"Mr. (L/N), same as before...." John stalked closer, his gait confident and casual.

"I think I made it very clear what I came here for didn't I? Right boys?" Your father's jaw ticked as he heard agreeing grunts and snorts, even a whistle. “I said the word and you know the rules.”

"You sick--don't you fucking know what you are doing is a crime!? Now get off my property-" John didn't even have to say anything as your father halted his words when he heard the three other rifles click on him.

The cold, metallic clicks of the rifles were louder than they should have been, echoing in the oppressive silence of the night. Your father froze, his fists clenching at his sides, but his eyes remained defiant, locked on the man in front of him.

John tilted his head slightly, the smile on his face never faltering. “Crime?” he echoed, almost lazily, like he found the very word amusing. “Well now, that’s rich, coming from a man like you. Don’t act like you’re any holier than me, Mr. (L/N).”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!"

“Oh, but I do,” John said smoothly, taking another step forward. The moonlight glinted off his gun, still hanging casually in his hand, though the threat it carried was anything but casual. “I know plenty. Enough to know you’re not in any position to lecture me about morals. Besides…” His eyes flicked up toward the mansion, lingering somewhere around the second floor. “I didn’t come for you.”

Your father’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his composure cracked, just slightly. “You’re not taking her.”

John’s grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were sharp, cold, and calculating. “Is that so?” he drawled, almost teasing. “Well, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve said the fucking word. Everyone here heard me, and you know what that means.”

“You think anyone cares about your outdated, backwoods tradition!?”

John’s smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard glare. “Tradition or not, I’m here to collect. And I don’t like repeating myself, old man. Now, you go bring her down, or...I'll do it myself."

One of the other men chuckled darkly, breaking the tension just enough to make your father’s stomach churn. “Might wanna think carefully about this, Mr. (L/N),” Sean said, his rifle trained steady.

Your father’s mind raced. He could see the resolve in John’s stance, the ruthlessness in his eyes. Negotiation wasn’t an option. His hands twitched at his sides, itching for the revolver in the drawer near the door, but the odds weren’t in his favor. Four men, three rifles aimed at him, and you upstairs, unaware of the danger that had come knocking.

John’s expression softened into something almost mocking, a twisted version of pity. “You should’ve thought about that before, Mr. (L/N). Actions have consequences. You taught me that yourself, didn’t you?”

"You...tha---don't tell me...you-"

"Yes, the boy you threw like garbage to the lawmen. Here, have a good look. All grown up now, and what did you say that day? Yeah, turned out worse than you thought, didn’t I? Guess being in jail doesn’t always change a person."

(F/N) staggered back, his entire body flooding with dread. Cold sweat ran down his back, but he had to remain composed. He had to stay strong, for you.

"Look, kid," your father finally said, voice trembling but laced with fury. "You got a problem with me... take me, kill me if you want, but don’t drag an innocent into this. She has nothing to do with it!"

John’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Ooooh, you don’t get it, do you? It’s not about her. It’s about you, and your suffering, ol' man. Damn, I’ve been waiting for this day. I ain’t going empty-handed. Call the whole damn battalion if you want." His voice darkened, a promise of violence lingering in his words. "But don’t worry... I’ll take care of the sweet thing."

"You son of a bitch!" (F/N) shouted, his anger surging. But before he could land a punch on John, he was thrown him aside with a swift, brutal smack, sending him crashing to the ground, just crossing the threshold.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” your father hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “You’re destroying her life. For what? Some petty revenge? SOME SICK GAME!?” The complaints went ignored, however.

John, followed by Javier and Sean, strode into the house as if it were his own, moving with lethal purpose. Bill stood at the door, guarding the entrance, his rifle trained on (F/N). The threat in his eyes was unmistakable, any movement, any protest, and there would be hell to pay.

As soon as John stepped inside, he waved off Javier and Sean with a flick of his wrist, a signal that they were free to do what they came for. Javier grinned darkly and immediately went to work, tearing through the house with an almost practiced ease. Drawers were flung open, cupboards ransacked, and anything of value that could be carried away was seized. Sean, equally quick and eager, followed suit, stuffing pockets with anything that caught his eye, silverware, jewelry, anything shiny or expensive.

Down the hallway, John’s attention was solely on the task at hand. He had no need for material things, what he was after was far more precious to him. He knew where you would be, locked away in your room, hiding from the chaos, just as your parents had hoped. The door was already locked, but that didn’t slow him down. With a single harsh kick, the door splintered open, the wood buckling under the force of the impact.

Inside, you and your mother froze at the sudden intrusion. Your heart slammed in your chest as your eyes met John’s, and your mother quickly moved to shield you. But she wasn’t fast enough.

"Shhh, don’t make this harder than it has to be," John said with a twisted smile, his voice dark, almost too calm.

"DON'T TOUCH HER! PLEASE!"

He moved towards you with purpose, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him with an iron grip. Your mother reached out, but John shoved her aside with a cold sneer, not even sparing her a glance.

"MAMA! HEY-"

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. His grip was too strong, too unrelenting. With a swift motion, he spun you around and threw you to the floor, your limbs twisting beneath you in a desperate attempt to break free.

"LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!"

“Stop squirming,” he hissed as he quickly bound your wrists and ankles together. The rope was tight, biting into your skin as he hogtied you with practiced precision. You could feel the coldness of his touch as he tightened the knot, making sure it was secure.

"LET ME GO YOU INSANE BASTARD! YOU LUNATIC-" Your screams got muffled as he tied the rope around your face too. Your mother hits on his body doing nothing to help.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but there was nothing you could do. You were helpless. Your mother’s cries echoed through the room, but John only chuckled darkly as he hoisted you up, dragging you toward the door.

“You’re coming with me, sweetheart,” John murmured into your ear, his breath hot and threatening against your skin. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Your mother lunged forward again, but her efforts were futile as John simply shoved her away, his strength overwhelming. He pulled you out of the room, your body flailing helplessly as he dragged you down the hallway.

You could see your father still struggling with Bill, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop what was already set in motion.

John paused just outside the door, glancing back at the mess his men had made of the house. The walls were littered with broken vases and frames, drawers pulled open and their contents spilled across the floor. But none of it mattered to him now. He had what he wanted.

The sound of hooves thundered outside, and moments later, (S/N) and her husband Leo appeared on the porch, rushing toward the house. Their expressions shifted from confusion to horror as John stepped through the door, carrying you in his arms, your wrists bound tightly, your face streaked with tears.

“Stop! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? Let her go!” (S/N) screamed, her voice cracking as she surged forward. But Bill stepped in her way, his broad form blocking the door as her fists pounded uselessly against him.

John stood back, watching the chaos unfold with a cruel sense of satisfaction. "Nice to meet y'all, I am your younger brother-in-law as of today," he said, a wicked smile on his lips. "I wish I could join the lovely dinner. But got business to take care of..."

Leo moved to intervene, but Javier’s rifle cracked across his head, and he crumpled to the ground. (S/N)’s cries turned frantic as she struggled against Bill, who merely smirked at her attempts.

John’s voice cut through the chaos, smooth and mocking. “Ah, family reunions are so sweet, aren’t they?” He didn’t stop walking, his grip on you firm as he crossed the yard to his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at (S/N), his grin sharp and cruel. “Don’t worry. Your sister will be well cared for! Better than she ever was here.”

“LET HER GO!” (S/N)'s scream was shrill, desperate. “You can’t do this! Please!”

John chuckled darkly, tossing you up onto his horse like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I can. And I will. Your father should’ve thought twice before crossing me."

As they mounted their horses, victorious gunshots and howling filled the air, echoing into the night.

Your father’s voice boomed as he followed with his gun, his words filled with desperation. “You sons of a bitches! I’ll kill you! Let her go, she has nothing to do with this!

John chuckled and took off with a speed, remaining at the front while the others covered his back. You could hear shots being fired by your father and shouts of the lawmen too but nothing could stop what was happening. Your own panic was palpable by your muffled noises and panicked breath amidst the ongoing chaos.

This has got to be a fucking nightmare.

The group of four rode off into the night, leaving the house and the shattered remains of your family behind. John smirked at your muffled noises and looked over his shoulder speeding up. "Ain't you a loudmouth. But don’t ya' worry, sweetheart. I’m taking care of everything. I’ll show you a life you’ll never forget.”

❀˖°

The air was thick with tension as he rode through the night, his mare's hooves striking the ground with rhythmic, almost predatory steps. Behind him, you, his new wife, slumped over the back of his horse, bound and silent. You had no choice. No voice. So different...it felt so fucking different from the bounties he hunted.

Which made the familiar guilt bloom again in his chest but he pushed it aside like a fly out of milk.

John couldn’t bring himself to care about your struggles. No, in his mind, this was necessary. This was what he deserved. What they both deserved.

As they neared the camp, the flickering fires grew larger, their warm glow contrasting against the coldness that had settled in John’s chest. This wasn’t just about you, or this stupid tradition, this was about proving something to the others. Proving that he could do it, that he had control.

John’s boots crunched against the dry earth, his grip firm on his captive as he dragged her toward the large tent. The men watched him, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to speak. They all knew what this meant.

John didn’t waste time. He entered the tent without hesitation and laid you, if you call throwing: laying, in front of Dutch. Your hands were still bound and your throat was in pain from all the screaming. You had lost the strength at this point.

“Well, well. Looks like we have a new addition to the family,”

Dutch sat up in his chair, his eyes flicking from John to your form on the ground. His lips curled into a slow smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Javier, Sean, and Bill, carrying the spoils of their work, approached, and John gave a small nod, acknowledging their effort.

“Well, well, look at that… Damn, John. Good job, son.”

Dutch handed over a heavy bag of gold to John, who accepted it with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers tightening around the weight of it.

"Thanks...Dutch."

“This gold’s yours. Wouldn't want your newlywed bride to be empty-handed now, would we?” Dutch’s smile was sharp, a predator's grin, as he pressed the bag into John’s hands.

John didn’t smile back, his eyes darting to you, the girl who had been claimed, bound, and dragged here. His grip tightened on the bag, his expression unreadable...

'What did you gain John....? You destroyed a girl's life to feed your own ego?'

His eyes met with Hosea's whose expression seemed to concur with his own thoughts.

'This is how you gonna treat her? You already failed as a man.'

You heard it all, the words, the taunting, the lecherous laughs. Each syllable felt like another crack in your heart, another layer of your dignity stripped away. These men, every one of them, were complicit in this. In what John had done. In what they all were willing to let happen.

Dutch’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts again, though it wasn’t directed at John this time. Instead, he crouched down in front of you, his voice low, almost mocking in its softness. “Now, you listen here, Missy,” he began, his words dripping with false kindness. “We’re good people here, alright? And in time, you’ll understand that. I raised this boy in front of me, so rest assured.”

The bile rose in your throat as he spoke, and if it weren’t for the ropes binding you, you’d surely be sick. You held it down, the nausea gnawing at you, but you refused to show any more weakness than you already had.

“No doing anything silly here, to anyone else, or even yourself. Also, I wouldn’t suggest running back, ‘cause…” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think a woman being taken by a hoard of men and then returning home would be labeled with any honorable name.”

Is...this it? You can't escape this? Not after what had happened?...Ever? The words, these horrible words...no...

"And John?" Dutch's voice brought him back to his senses. "You gotta behave responsibly now...got it? Cuz' I assure you, marriage ain't a kid's game. Right, Hosea?" The latter ignored Dutch's joke and stormed off, fed up with this nonsense.

John’s hand found you again, roughly pulling you up, dragging you away from Dutch’s feet. The fact that he was your “husband” now sent a chill down your spine.

Dutch called after him with a final, taunting word, “Get her settled, boy. And congratulations!”

John pushed past the flaps of the tent, you felt your body being thrown down onto the ground again, a soft thud as you hit the dusty floor. The tent was dim, but you could make out the faint outline of bedding and supplies.

John stood over you for a moment, his shadow dark and looming in the light of the flickering fire outside. He was silent, staring down at you, his expression unreadable. The ropes around your wrists burned, but you didn’t try to move. What was the point?

His voice was low when it came, like a command more than a suggestion. “You stay here. Don’t make me come back and remind you why you’re here.”

And with that, he left, the flap of the tent snapping behind him as he went. You were alone now, but not really. The weight of the men’s presence lingered in the air, suffocating, even as they all carried on with their laughter and celebrations outside.

The only sound was the rustle of the tent in the wind and the faint murmurs of the men as they settled into camp. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the burden of this new life, of your new reality, pressing down on you.

Mama...Papa...(S/N)..

God...why you? Why--just why?!

You didn't know how long you stayed there, or how many times you panicked and even fainted once. Then he came again...

"Listen--I... I’m going to take the ropes off, and you better stay quiet, alright?"

For a moment, his words almost felt like a plea. What the hell was this? The same man who had torn everything apart now seemed... pathetic. The man who had taken you, who had stolen your life, now sounded like he was afraid. His shaky voice didn't make you feel sympathy, it only fueled your hatred.

As soon as your hands were free, you didn’t hesitate. You swung with all the anger you’d been holding in for what felt like an eternity. Your hand collided with his face, not once, but twice. The sharp slap echoed in the air, and John staggered back, his face flashing with surprise.

“You wanted revenge, right?! YOU GOT IT! YOU MADE MY DAD SUFFER, SO NOW KILL ME! DO IT. I DON’T WANNA LIVE WITH YOUR SORRY PATHETIC ASS! JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF! Nothing, fucking nothing screams HUMAN about you! YOU DUMBFUCK!”

He didn’t react at first, standing still, his mouth tight. His mind seemed to stall, his eyes betraying a flicker of confusion. Maybe he thought you’d just... accept it.

"You listen-" He started, his voice suddenly more commanding, trying to regain control. But you weren’t going to let him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You screamed, your palm crashing into his face again, hard enough to make him step back. “Either take me back or kill me!”

John recoiled, blinking hard, but he didn’t speak for a moment. You saw him swallow, like he was struggling with something.

"STOP WITH THE KILLING TALK! I DON'T KILL WOMEN!"

You sneered, your blood boiling with disgust. "OH YEAH!? BUT YOU SNATCH THEM, HOW FUCKING NOBLE!"

His eyes were still locked on yours, but now there was something else there, something resembling frustration, even confusion. He didn’t know how to deal with you, didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do now. His whole plan had been thrown off.

You saw it in the way he stood there, shifting uneasily, the cracks in his control finally starting to show.

"Take me back or kill me, you son of a bitch!" You shouted, your chest heaving with raw emotion, your hands still clenched in fists at your sides. You were done begging. "You are nothing but a coward! All of you here are nothing but cowards, not men-"

That's it.

His grip was unforgiving, forcing your head up, his fingers digging into your chin with such force that it hurt. The pressure was unbearable, and your neck strained under the weight of it, but there was no escaping him. His eyes were cold, hard, and unblinking as he stared down at you, his breath hot against your skin.

"No," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You will fucking listen, got it?" He shook you violently with every word, the anger seeping from his tone. "I ain’t always gonna deal with these temper tantrums like your daddy. I am your husband now. Yeah, get that," he spat the words, venom in every syllable. "Get that fucking imprinted in your head. You gonna come to terms with it, whether you like it or not."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt the tears, those damned pathetic tears, begin to form again. You tried to speak, to shout, to do anything to make him stop, but your mouth was clamped shut under his forceful grip. You could barely breathe, could barely move. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, making everything inside you twist with dread. The world around you felt like it was crumbling, the horror of what was happening suffocating you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

"Please..."

The single word you managed to croak out hung in the air, fragile and desperate. It caught his attention, just long enough for him to look away, his jaw tight, his eyes shifting in something close to irritation. And then, with a sudden motion, he released you. The force of his grip pulled away so quickly that you tumbled backward, crashing onto the cot with a jarring thud.

"Just fucking stop! I said NO!" he repeated as if your resistance was some kind of insult to him, a challenge to his authority that he couldn't let slide. "And take this..."

He tossed the pouch at you. It landed on the cot with a soft clink. You froze for a second, blinking at the pouch. When your trembling hands slowly reached for it, you realized what it was, your mother’s gold jewelry.

Inside, there was more than just that, the gleaming gold pieces and the precious gems were accompanied by something much more sentimental. Your grandmother's necklace, an heirloom that had been passed down for generations, was nestled carefully within the folds of the fabric. You could almost hear your mother’s voice, her warmth in every memory attached to the jewelry. As you held it in your trembling hands, you couldn’t help but feel a strange relief.

At least this wasn’t taken from you.

You tried a different approach, your voice trembling with desperation, hoping, praying, that perhaps this might reach him.

“Y-you’re… going to do all this?” Your words broke with hiccups, but you pressed on, your desperation giving you courage. “Call someone your wife, k-kidnap them?... Someone who will hate you for eternity? You’re going to live with that? How do you people...sleep at night... hm? H-how?”

“You think I care how I sleep at night?” His voice was low, rough like splintered wood, and it made you flinch. “You think I don’t know what this is? What I’ve done?”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the ground, and you instinctively shrank back.

“Listen to me,” he spat, pointing a finger at you, his hand trembling just enough for you to notice. “I don’t want your damn hate, but if that’s all you’ve got, fine. Hate me. Curse me. Throw whatever you want my way. But don’t think for one second I’ll let you run. That won't have good consequences...remember that. Especially for your family. Whether you run to them or elsewhere. Imma' take my anger out on them either way."

Your breath hitched, but he wasn’t finished. He crouched down to your level, his face inches from yours, his words colder now.

“You think guilt’s gonna stop me? You think your tears are gonna make me let you go? No. You’re staying here. You’ll learn, one way or another, how this is gonna work.”

“I’m not proud of this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, his tone quieter now, though no less firm. “But it’s done. And you better start figuring out how to live with it. Because I ain’t letting you go.”

You stared at him in horror, tears streaking your cheeks. There was no reasoning with him, no way to break through his own guilt and stubbornness. He stood abruptly, towering over you once more.

“You’ll learn to live with it...you’ll understand. Eventually. You will have to for your own sake."

The tent flap shifted as Susan entered, carrying a bowl of food. She said nothing, her expression unreadable as she handed the bowl to John. For a brief moment, her gaze flickered toward you, a glance heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. Pity? Disdain? You couldn’t tell.

Then she turned and left, the fabric of the tent swaying shut behind her, leaving you alone with him once more.

John sat down, the bowl in his hands. The air between you crackled with tension as he placed it firmly on the makeshift table beside him.

“Now eat,” he ordered, his voice low and sharp.

You shook your head, your body trembling as you choked on your sobs.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze darkened, the softness from earlier entirely gone. He stood, leaning over you, his presence oppressive and inescapable.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he growled. “I’m not asking. Eat.”

Still, you shook your head, tears spilling freely down your face.

John’s patience snapped. He grabbed the bowl and held it up as a threat, his tone cold and unwavering. “You think I’m playing with you? I swear to God, if you don’t eat, I’ll force it down your throat. I. Said. Eat.”

His words cut through the air like a whip, leaving no room for argument. You flinched, staring at the bowl with wide, tear-filled eyes, knowing you had no choice. Your hands trembled as you reached for the spoon, your stomach churning with dread.

“Good,” he muttered, backing away just enough to let you breathe but keeping his eyes fixed on you. “About time you started listening.”

The minutes dragged on, each one more dreadful than the last, as you mindlessly forced the stew down, barely aware of its taste. When you finally pushed the bowl away, too sick with fear and despair to continue, he grabbed it and set it aside with an air of finality.

Then, without warning, John reached for the pouch of jewelry your mother had so carefully saved. He yanked it open, spilling its contents with no regard for the sentiment or sanctity they held. Your heart clenched as you watched his calloused fingers sift through the delicate gold pieces, his touch desecrating what was meant to symbolize joy and love.

"Here," he said, holding up the bangles, his tone commanding and without patience. "Wear these."

You instinctively backed away, clutching your hands to your chest as if shielding the last remnants of your dignity. The urge to snatch the precious jewelry from his sinful hands burned hot inside you, but the fear of his reaction held you in place.

"I said, wear em'."

Before you could think to resist, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip. You winced but didn’t dare cry out, not wanting to provoke him further.

With a brutal kind of carelessness, he forced the gold bangles onto your trembling wrists, each one slipping over your hand with a sharp jingle that felt like the sound of shackles locking into place.

"There," he muttered admiring his work as if he’d achieved something. “Now you look the part.”

John’s gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your shoulders hunched and trembling, every ounce of defiance beaten down into quiet submission. You didn’t dare look at him, your hands resting on your lap, fidgeting with the edge of your dress as if trying to distract yourself from the weight of his presence. His earlier words of gruesome threats, and fear for your family still echoing in your mind.

The golden bangles on your wrist caught the dim light, gleaming against your soft, trembling skin. His eyes drifted to your face, the softness of your features now marred by fear. There was something about the way you sat there, quiet but unyielding, that made him feel like he won something precious.

Precious indeed.

“Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was low, almost reverent, though it carried a jagged edge. “All quiet now, huh? Guess you’re finally startin’ to get it.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, but he noticed the way your shoulders tensed under his gaze. It was enough to make him smirk, though the satisfaction in it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, John suddenly pushed himself to his feet. The movement was abrupt, startling you enough to glance at him before quickly looking away again. He stood there for a moment, towering over you, his arms crossed as he regarded you with an unreadable expression.

“Listen,” he began, his tone gruff, “I ain’t sleepin’ here tonight.” For a moment, relief flickered across your face, so brief he almost missed it. Almost.

“But,” he continued, “come tomorrow, you’d best start makin’ some space. ‘Cause this is my tent. Got it?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words settled over you like a suffocating weight. He waited, watching for a reaction, for some acknowledgment that you understood. When none came, he gave a low, humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Silent treatment, huh? Fine. You’ll come around.” His voice softened, but the undertone was still sharp enough to cut. “You’ll see. This ain’t as bad as you’re makin’ it out to be.”

With that, he grabbed his hat from the table and left the tent, the flap snapping shut behind him.

❀˖°

The second night fell heavier than the first, the air in the tent still and suffocating. You hadn’t moved much throughout the day, just sat there, staring blankly at the tent walls, every sound outside making you flinch. Food had been brought and taken away untouched. No one had come to check on you, not that you’d wanted them to. The isolation wrapped around you, heavy and unrelenting.

When the flap of the tent rustled, your heart leapt in panic. He stepped inside like he had every right to be there, his figure casting a shadow across the space. John’s hat was off, his coat slung carelessly over his arm. He moved with an air of certainty, his boots scuffing against the ground as he set his belongings on the small table by the cot.

“You’ve been quiet. Guess that means you’re learning.”

You didn’t respond, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. His eyes landed on you, taking in your hunched posture, the way your face turned away from him. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between you, tense and unbroken.

He walked closer, and every step made your breath hitch. When he finally stood over you, his shadow loomed large, swallowing you in its weight. “Scoot over,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm.

You froze, shaking your head before you could stop yourself. The fight was small, but it was all you could manage.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he crouched down to your level. “Didn’t think I’d have to remind you how things are. But I will if I need to.”

You shrank back, but there was nowhere to go. He sighed, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t here to fight with you, but you’re makin’ it real damn hard.”

Without another word, he sat on the cot beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and you shifted as far away as you could, your back pressed against the tent wall. He didn’t seem to care, leaning back and kicking his boots off as if this were just another night.

“I told you last night. You’re gonna have to get used to this. To me.” His gaze flickered to you, lingering for a moment. “The sooner you do, the better.

You wanted to shout, to tell him how much you hated this, how much you hated him, but the words were stuck in your throat. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, paralyzed by fear, by helplessness.

“No,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tightness in your chest made it hard to breathe. You said it again, louder this time. “No.”

His lips curled into a mocking smile, barely visible in the dim light. “Mhm... funny.”

He stretched out, reclining with one arm behind his head, and the weight of his presence filled the space between you like a physical force. Your body instinctively flinched as he purposefully spread his legs into your space, a quiet challenge in his movements.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded as if he were already drifting off. “We’ve got a long road ahead tomorrow, and you’ll need your rest.”

You barely had time to process his words before your mind went racing. Where!? Where were they taking you? Even more far from your family...what if they never will be able to find you?!

“W-where...?” You managed to croak, confusion creeping into your voice.

"Far, far away... to mountains and caves,” he said with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes twinkling as he gestured through the air. The dramatic gesture made you freeze, eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

He burst into a laugh, the sound echoing through the tent, thick with derision. “I’m just kidding, Princess. But it’s still gonna be far.”

His laughter faded as he leaned back on the cot, his casual tone not fading, he wanted to see the reaction again. “Though, if you really wanna go home,” he added with a shrug, his lips curling into a mocking smile, “you’re welcome to ask. Hell, I’ll even walk you to the edge of the camp myself. Let you find your way back. You’ll be easy pickings out there, though. Lots of nasty things in these woods, not all of them human. It’s just you and the big, wide world. Wolves , bears… maybe worse as in...bandits." His voice dipped lower, soft and dark, almost a whisper.

The insinuation hit you like a punch to the stomach, your throat tightening as panic crept in. He watched your reaction closely, his smirk widening as fear flickered across your face. “But maybe you’re braver than you look and stronger,” he said, almost teasing. “So, what’s it gonna be? Want me to toss you out right now? C'mon then, get up.” He grabbed your wrist which you instantly flinched away from.

You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you stammered, “No... no...please.."

“Good answer,” he drawled, reclining again, satisfied. “Smart girl.”

Your chest started heaving as you fought to steady your breathing. The tears came suddenly, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down your cheeks as you sat there, trembling. Another blow of his cruelty crashed into you, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Sobs wracked your body, sharp and desperate, as your chest heaved with the weight of it all.

“Please…stop, s-top it,” you whispered between sobs, your hands shaking as they gripped your hair as if you were going insane, Hell you already had. “I-I can’t...I just wanna go ho-me...ple-ase.”

Inside, something twisted painfully in his chest. He hated it, seeing you like this, fragile and terrified because of him.

Fuck fuck fuck--Just what the fuck is wrong with me?!

"Alright, alright," he muttered, his tone softer now. "No need to get all worked up. I...was jus'...I was jus' messing around."

Was I? Or was I about to do that?

You didn’t move and kept weeping and he felt that unfamiliar pang again. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, don’t cry, alright?" he said gruffly, almost annoyed with himself for caring. "I’m not gonna... leave you out here or.... anywhere."

When you still didn’t move, sobbing quietly, he muttered a curse under his breath.

"Lay down," he ordered, his voice low but not unkind.

"C'mon, jus' lay down, I...am sorry," he repeated, softer this time and gently, he eased you down onto the bedroll, your sobs still trembling through your body. He tugged the blanket over you, his hands lingering awkwardly before he sat back, watching you silently for a moment.

His jaw tightened as he listened to your broken sobs. The sound tormented him, louder than any scream, worse than any wound. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop himself from hurting you, only to hate himself when he did?

❀˖°

The long journey had ended, and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, dust hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of campfires and the distant rustle of wind through the brush. You sat by the tent, legs pulled tightly to your chest, trying to steady your breath. Every bone in your body ached from the relentless days of riding, your wrists still red and raw from how he'd gripped them during the trip. The journey had been brutal, with no rest, no kindness, only his clipped orders and the suffocating silence that surrounded you. Yet, there had been moments, brief and fleeting like the time on a cold morning, when he had given you one of his warmer coats, the thick leather lined with fur, his gruff voice commanding you to put it on. You had hesitated at first, but had no choice but to obey.

“Get up and go fetch me some coffee,” he ordered without even looking in your direction.

You didn’t respond right away. Your hands gripped the edge of the crate, your heart pounding in your chest. The idea of getting up, moving, doing anything for him was unbearable. You knew the drill, he could force you to do anything, but right now, in this moment, you wanted to pretend you had control over something, anything.

“No,” you retorted sharply, your voice hoarse.

"Excuse me?"

"I am not...your maid."

The next thing you knew, you were yanked off the crate, your body jerking against his iron grip. He dragged you by the arm, unceremoniously. The camp was alive with activity, and you felt every pair of eyes land on you. His grip tightened, making it impossible to escape, his voice low and cold in your ear.

"You think you get to refuse me? I don't think you understand, sweetheart. This is your life now."

He tugged you toward the large stew pot, where a man was stirring it. He looked up as you approached, and John gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand. "She’ll be working here, Pearson. You got it?"

Your stomach churned as you were forced to stand beside the stew pot, the acrid scent of boiled meat and thin broth filling the air. Your mind drifted, traitorously pulling you back to unreachable memories of a life far removed from this. Memories of sitting at a polished table, sunlight streaming through wide-open windows, and more than one dish laid out before you for breakfast alone, fluffy eggs, fresh fruit, steaming tea, and pastries you could barely finish.

Now, the single, unappetizing pot seemed almost mocking, its contents a reminder of how far you’d fallen. You blinked hard, willing the tears away, but they pricked at your eyes nonetheless, a lump forming in your throat

Everything here is going to taste nothing but broken dreams and grief to you.

"Now," he ordered, pushing you toward the cooking wagon. "Get used to the smell. Get used to the work. You want to know where you're going to spend most of your time Princess? This...right fucking here."

But John wasn’t done. He moved again, dragging you along with him to the laundry area.

"And here, you’ll wash the clothes. See how nice it looks? This is your world now, little by little. I don't care if you're tired. I don't care if you're angry. Nobody does. You’ll do what I tell you, or it’ll be worse for you."

His words were venomous, and they stung deeper than you cared to admit. The powerlessness of it all seemed to suffocate you, leaving you with nothing but the grinding reality of your situation.

He let go of your arm then, but still hovered over you.

"You can stay here and sulk if you want, but just know this," he added, his voice cold again. "You’re part of this family and there is a limit to where I and Dutch will tolerate your moodiness. He can be pissed too when he wants to be so don't embarrass me in front of others. And I don’t take kindly to disobedience. Not from you. Daddy must have spoiled you but here none of that shit happens."

You didn’t respond, but the pit in your stomach grew heavier. The space around you, the smell of the stew, the relentless noise of the camp, it all felt suffocating. You felt like you were drowning, your heart aching with every passing second.

"John! Stop it!" Sharp with panic, a voice broke through the suffocating fog of confusion that had clouded your mind. You turned, eyes blurry with tears, just in time to see Annabelle rush to your side. Her presence was like a shield, her arms wrapping around you as she positioned herself between you and him. "As if you already hadn't disappointed me enough! Get fuckin' lost right now!."

Their argument became muffled as you stood there, breath shallow, heart pounding. Everything that had happened, everything you had lost, overwhelmed you. You thought back to that final day with your family, the day that now felt like a distant, unreachable dream.

Why had you taken everything for granted? The simple comforts, the warmth of your home, the sound of your mother’s scolding, your father’s jokes, their laughter that filled the air. How you longed to hear those things again, to feel their embrace, to be wrapped in the safety of your old life.

You closed your eyes, letting the memories flood your mind. Mama… The name escaped your lips in a breathless whimper, and you clutched at Annabelle desperately, as though she could somehow give you back everything you had lost.

Annabelle's arms tightened around you, her face hardening with a scowl as she glared at John. She didn’t need to say anything. The fury in her eyes spoke volumes. But in that moment, you felt like you were in a world of your own, lost in the painful yearning for a life that no longer existed.

"I can’t," you whispered, the words barely a sound. "I can’t… be here. I want to go home. I beg you.."

Annabelle’s grip on you softened slightly, but she didn't let go. She didn’t have the words to ease the ache in your chest, but she had the strength to offer you something, a shield, a comfort, even if it wasn’t enough to erase the crushing weight of your new life.

John stood there, a silent observer for now, but you knew the storm was far from over. Every moment with him felt like a battle, and you were too broken, too tired, to fight anymore. You thought yourself crumbling once again.

Annabelle whispered something to you, comforting words, but they were lost in the haze of your thoughts.

God, this is heart breaking to watch, why can't it be just a piece of cake? Why are you making it so hard?

But John knew it wasn't your fault, not in the slightest. He couldn't take it anymore so he turned, his boots heavy against the dirt floor of the camp and walked away with a grumble, disappearing into the shadows of the camp, leaving you behind in the dimming light, holding onto whatever remnants of dignity you had left.

Annabelle, still by your side, squeezed you tighter, her expression hardened as she watched John leave. Her voice was a whisper, a promise, as she comforted you in the only way she knew how. "I am here, alright. Don't be afraid. We’ll get through this... together."

❀˖°

John lay on his back in the dimly lit tent, the muted crackle of the campfire outside casting faint, flickering shadows across the canvas walls. He knew you were awake. His gaze shifted downward, catching on your hands where they rested near your chest. The bangles on your wrists glinted faintly in the low light, the same ones you hadn’t been allowed to remove. But it wasn’t the jewelry that held his attention. It was the raw, chapped skin of your fingers under the shadow of the blanket, evidence of the cold and the endless work you’d been made to do. Not to mention your shivering...

With a quiet sigh, John sat up, the bedroll creaking under his weight. He stood, the night air slipping into the tent as he stepped outside. A few moments later, he returned, a spare blanket draped over one arm. Without a word, he leaned over, laying it carefully across you.

He laid back down with a soft huff, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the canvas ceiling above. Silence stretched between you, but it didn’t last.

"I know," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "It’s probably a nightmare for you. Not exactly the fairytale you might’ve dreamed of...I mean...I would be the last person you would even imagine yourself to be with..." He chuckled, the sound bitter and humorless. "But it’s real. And it’s done. There’s nothing that can be done about it now."

His head turned slightly, enough that you could feel the weight of his gaze even though you couldn't see it. "What do you want? For me to throw you out? To let you go back? You think that’s an option? Because it’s not. Believe it or not but...it ain't some tradition...it's a commitment and... I’ve taken on a responsibility, and I’m willing to see it through. But not if you keep acting like this."

The cycle was obvious to him now.

He gets gentle with you, just for a moment, and you start acting up, that defiant spark in your eyes resurfacing. Then he gets pissed, and you get scared. And that fear? Those tears? They make him more fucking pissed.

Your tense back beside him seemed to beckon, and he found himself turning toward you, his hand hovering hesitantly. His fingers twitched, itching to close the space between you, but for a fleeting second, something strange held him back. Fear? Doubt? Is he doing this then? He brushed the thought aside, refusing to examine it further.

When his hand finally settled on your waist, you immediately swatted it away, which he both expected and loathed. He placed it back, this time firmer, pulling you against him.

"Listen here,” he muttered, his voice low, close to your ear. “If you start to accept it, this, us, I might even take you to see your family...” He let the words out, unsure himself if they were a genuine promise or just another thread of control. But right now, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to feel the soft warmth of you against him, to revel in the fleeting sense of peace it gave him. He wanted to test all of this out...unravel this sweet chaos he had caused.

Damn, the warmth, the softness, the scent. Mhm. Not...bad... I could get used to this.

“Got it?” he whispered, his lips almost brushing your ear. You didn’t answer, only buried your face into the pillow with a shaky nod. A smirk tugged at his lips, satisfaction blooming in his chest and e tightened his arm around you.

"Good, that's what I thought, Princess." This time, his voice lacked its usual taunting edge, carrying a note of unexpected softness instead.

"Or should I say, Mrs. Marston.."

He buried his face into your hair and neck, sighing at the softness, and his mind, as if on its own, pictured it almost too vividly...even when he tried to stop himself.

Children with your eyes but his resolve running through the camp, the echoes of their laughter filling the space he once thought too hollow to hold anything but emptiness.

He always wanted a family, a real one. Something steady, something lasting. What he craved for himself as a kid. And maybe if he had that, people would finally start to see him as more than some reckless kid. As a man. A mature, responsible man.

Responsibility... That was what he needed, wasn’t it? Something to ground him. A driving force to keep him steady, to give all of this chaos some kind of meaning.

His legacy, carved into this broken world. Something that wouldn’t burn away with the next heist or the next score.

And when he came back from dangerous jobs, when the blood and the dirt weighed heavy on his shoulders, what then? A man’s eyes needed to see somethin’ peaceful after all that. Not just poker cards and stolen loot. No, he’d need somethin’ better. Like....you, rocking his kids to sleep in your arms. Their tiny fists clutching at your shirt, your voice humming low to calm them.

You’d resist at first, of course, you would, and damn it, that only made the thought burn brighter. He could see it so clearly, the defiance in your eyes softening with time, with understanding. And then, after a while, you wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore.

He swallowed hard, the image filling his mind. The thought of you, his woman, his wife, with his child.

He smirked in the dim light, his grip tightening and his chest rumbling with a hum, " You'd make a fine mother. Yeah...they’d be beautiful. Tough, too. With my grit and your… well, everything else.”

Your body stiffened instantly in disgust and terror. The thought sent a cold wave of dread through you, the very idea of this made you sick to your stomach. “No way in hell,” you hissed, your voice sharper than you intended.

John stilled for a moment, the smile slipping from his face. The quiet that followed was dangerous. Then, slowly, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to overtop you.

"Say that again." His voice was quiet, too quiet, but the simmering anger beneath it was impossible to miss.

"I said, no way in hell. No. I’m not… I won’t…you are insane to think-"

His hand slid to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You think you get a say in this, Princess?"

You tried to turn your face away, but his hold tightened just enough to make you freeze. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "I’ll make you see it my way, one way or another. You’ll thank me for it one day when they’re calling you Mama and lookin’ up at you like you hung the fuckin' stars."

He let go of your chin harshly. Turning back onto his side, he muttered under his breath.

"Might be the only thing that keeps your mind away from your home. A family. My family."

(AN: Do yall want an Arthur version for this concept?👀 Also to be in the taglist , just comment down below. )

[agoofyannoyancetolaw]

holy

a/n: decided to take some inspo from that very first fic I wrote so tada. It’s a long one so buckle in folks- also some reader dialog because it was needed for plot :/

minors DNI I’m fr.

phillip was a good man, a holy man, a priest. He had sworn celibacy a long time ago and has kept it every day even when the prettiest boys would look at him and his heart ached to feel their touch. He had his church and his small town and he was happy with just that and nothing more- until the little town he loved started to change around him, the church got hard for him to sit in with the feeling of burning pain coursing through him every time he preached.

he just couldn’t understand it?? Why had his god cursed him with these sudden pains in the place he called home? Why has his house felt so hauntingly open to the world as if someone was following him, watching him. And it didn’t help that every damn night he felt as if someone or something was in bed with him and teasing his senses and urges with every passing second.

he had searched his entire apartment, throwing things and moving chairs and desks to try to find where the hell this feeling had come from- only to find a small pentagram on the floor of the last owners carpet which he jumped at.

he fell back on the ground with a thud, his cross necklace falling directly onto the pentagram as a hazy feeling filled the air that made him want to gag or run away on his heels like a child.

your shadowy figure stood over him in silence- long horns, sharp claws, a tail and folded wings; a demon. God what had he done! He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be killed or dammed or anything else! He was too focused on this thoughts to even feel your hand grip his chin and tilt his head up as if you were inspecting him

“ah. A pretty little priest, hm? Almost a shame you summoned me- although you’re stuck with me now either way.” You hummed with a smile, his eyes widening at your voice and your claim alike

“leave me be!! Creature of Satan-!” graves said in a surprisingly shaky voice for someone so educated on demons

“Aw, it’s not like I’m going to hurt you- but your stuck with me now” you hummed as you knocked him out with a simple tap on his shoulder due to his fear and carried him to his bed.

over the weeks he had gotten used to you. Your figure haunting over him while he tried to sleep and the burning he could feel when he was inside the church with you silently stalking outside past the windows of the church as if you were a normal person- god he even started to like having you around. your handsome voice ringing in his ear or your calloused hands touching him when you moved him around the house… but that would be wrong! You’re a demon, a creature banned by his god!

He tried ignoring it, he really did. But the feeling of your hands gripping at his hips and the feeling of your hot breath on his neck kept reminding him of those sinful ideas; yet none the less it sent his blood rushing to his lower half. Especially when you insisted to sleep next to him every night.

This morning when he woke up he would have to pry himself out of your grip to get ready for the day per usual. Although the feeling of your member practically flush against him was making him whine- he couldn’t contain the urge to nestle up against you and grind against you ever so slightly like a dog in heat. He felt horrid for doing this, sinful even.. but he continued anyway till you woke up with a lazy chuckle, soft pleas already falling from his pretty lips.

He only stopped when he felt your hands grip his hips and play with the waistband of his boxers, his entire body shuttering as he felt your warm hands tease his rim. He knew this was wrong, he knew this wouldn’t be something he could make up for with god- but it felt so good.

he practically lost his breath when he felt one of your digits slip into him slowly, the painful stretch making him scramble to try not to make noise as you played his body like a fiddle. He could already feel a hot coiling sensation slowly tense and build up in the depth of his mind. his pretty little jaw slack and tears dotting his eyes as you slid another finger in and pressed against his prostate softly; his cock twitching against his now tugged down boxers with pathetic whimpers to accompany the sensation. He clenched around your fingers like a vice as you prepped him, half out of it by the time you pulled your digits out.

he wiggled around a bit searching for your fingers again before he felt the burning pleasure of your members head against his rim, the slow push making him feel as if it was in his throat or skewering him whole. He was moaning loudly by the time your hips were flushed against his, his lips bruised from how hard he tried to keep his mouth shut.

his breath was sharp as he desperately tried to focus on the way you bucked into him and bruised his hips With your grip.. god how has he sworn to not do this!? He couldn’t even put together a sentence as he painted the sheets white, clenching around you so tightly that you did the same inside of him. his back arching so prettily when you pulled over and kissed him on the cheek as if he was yours…

he didn’t like the fact he had broken his oath, but he would sell his soul to you just to do it again.

[anexperimentallife]

The US far right has been working on their plan since AT LEAST the 1960s, when I was a kid listening to evangelicals talking about their plan to take over the US, and eventually the world. It's called "Christian Dominionism," and it's a fascist ideology which goes hand in glove with the GOP's plans.

Although it was not expressed so much to the world at large, this plan was OPENLY and FREQUENTLY discussed in far right circles. We kids, if we asked about it, were told that it was "God's Will." Ask any exvangelical about it, and they'll confirm. (Part of why I know so much about these dangerous and deluded folks is I WAS ONE OF THEM in my youth.)

And where has that plan gotten them? Well, the GOP recently released a hundreds of pages long document filled with their intentions if they win--including a nationwide abortion ban and a repeal of anti-discrimination laws, among other things.

Trump has already signaled his intent to create a military dictatorship if elected, by repealing laws against using the military against US citizens on US soil sp he can deploy them against dissenters, etc., and if the GOP pick up a few more congressional seats, he can do it. The GOP has already pushed to repeal presidential term limits, and Trump has indicated he'd like to be president for life.

So I'm amazed at all the people who think withholding their vote and letting the GOP win is going to somehow fix things and "push the Dems left."

You wanna know how to push US politics leftward? You're not gonna like it, because it takes actual work beyond stomping your foot and pouting and performatively showing everyone how "pure" you are by refusing to vote.

You have to start the same way the far right did (and again, they've been OPENLY talking about and pursuing this plan since I was a kid in the 1960s, AT LEAST)--they started by getting the most extreme right wingers they possibly could into any position they could. Positions like school board member, police chief, sherrif, city prosecuter, city council member, municipal judge, mayor, governor, hell, fucking dog catcher.

They encouraged far right extremists to become police officers and military personnel and work their way up the ranks to the point at which even the famously-racist FBI reported that major city police departments across the nation were pretty much taken over by members of white supremacist organizations.

In formerly reasonable churches, right wingers pushed for the hiring and training of more and more right wing pastors and mire right-wing theology.

More affluent right-wingers bought local papers and broadcasters, and as their political power grew, they changed laws to make it easier for a single entity to control the news--until now a mere handful of entities own nearly every major media outlet in the US.

And then they used every victory as leverage for the next one, and worked their way up. I mean, there's more, like the capitalization on economic and social anxiety and their inentional exacerbation of same so they could take advantage of it, but that's intertwined with the rest.

Essentially, they got this far because they put the work in.

If the US left is going to turn things around (and if it's not already too late), we've got to do the same, but it takes RESEARCHING and PROMOTING your local and state candidates, attending city council and school board meetings, and shit like that. It's actual fucking work to fix a country.

And then, after you've done all that--and after you've shown up to primaries to try to get any non-authoritarian leftist candidate you can nominated--then you vote for the leftest folks you're able to in the general. If there are no remotely leftist candidates, you vote for the centrist or right winger who will do the least damage.

Again, that's what the US far right has been doing for decades. Taking action. Wherever possible, taking new ground, but when they couldn't do that, ceding as little ground as possible. If they couldn't win, they made damn sure to do everything in their power to try to keep actual decent human beings from winning.

Actually doing the work doesn't have the emotional satisfaction of a grand gesture, but it definitely shows who is serious about making a difference and who would rather let everything burn than sully their imagined purity by voting for anything less than perfection.

Listen, Trump is not going to end the genocide in Gaza--in fact he increased tensions between the Israeli occupation and Palestine. And the GOP will never be persuaded. Hell, they want to let Russia take Ukraine and declare open season on asylum seekers.

The Dems suck. But the GOP is far, far worse, and will do MORE damage, and kill FAR MORE innocents. And if allowed to do so, will make it even harder to change the system than it is now. They've already PUBLICLY ADMITTED that their only chance of victory is keeping people from voting. Don't play into their hands.

Under current circumstances, you know what the Dems are going to do if Biden and a bunch of other Dems lose for not being pure enough? You think they'll be all like, "Oh, no! The left sure taught us a lesson by handing the country to the GOP! We'd better shift to the left!"

No. They're going to sip champagne in their multi-million dollar mansions and have meetings about how they need to move FURTHER RIGHT to win elections, because the left doesn't vote.

And if the US becomes a military dictatorship, most of the high ranking ones will simply take their fortunes and leave.

Yup, it'd sure teach ol' Joe a lesson to force him to spend the rest of his days sipping cocktails on the Riviera.

Look beyond the single battle and think strategically. That's how the GOP keeps gaining power. And refusing to act strategically is why the left is losing. We cannot take the hill we want right now. But if we lose the hills we've already taken, we risk losing the entire goddamn war.

So fucking vote. Work to get every leftist you can in any office you can. And if you can't do that, support the one who will do the least harm.

And if it takes voting for that shitbag Biden to keep Trump and the GOP out, hold your fucking nose and pull the goddamn lever.

[mrchiipchrome]

Parents

W.C. - 3 k

“Fuck!”

“Language” Lucy replies.

Joining Barcelona at the age of 14 last season had changed your life for the better, sure the balancing of schoolwork and professional football was difficult to say the least but you had the most amazing women around you helping. You moved from a small club in the south of Spain to the giants during the summer transfer window, over the moon as soon as you got the call that they wanted to sign you. Your parents gave you the ‘okay’ for the move, though their jobs were too important to leave so you would get placed with a teammate as a solution.

So when you had packed up what little you needed from your childhood bedroom in your backpack, you set off for the train. One tearful goodbye with your parents later and you stepped foot on the train taking you to the city of dreams.

When you arrived, you got picked up by a member of staff and directly to the training grounds where you would meet the team for the first time and sign the paperwork. It felt like it took 1000 years to sign all the papers but when you were finally done, you could feel the excitement coursing through your veins. 

Meeting your teammates was a success and the prospect of living with any of them had you excited. You instantly got the hint that you would live with the two English women when they were asked to stay after practice. Not making too much of a fuss when they realized they had a teen to take care of was good for you, the two of them already having known that you would join their residence for a couple weeks. And so you moved in, creating an unbreakable bond by the end of the first week with the two women.

—

“Can we go out for ice cream after training? I finished all my assignments.” No one could ever resist your puppy dog eyes, infamously adorable, so when you threw them into the mix you were sure that you would get your sought after ice cream. Lucy slings her strong arm around your shoulder, walking a little faster than she normally would to be able to keep the pace of your long lanky legs. Keira slips her arm around your waist at your other side, the two older women sandwiching you between them as they ‘think’ about your offer.

“Sure, but only if you promise to brush your teeth extra carefully tonight. Wouldn’t want you to get cavities-” Your cheers cut her off as you suddenly take off in the direction of some of the younger players, happy that you would get your sweet treat. 

The two women left walking look at each other with a certain softness expressed through their eyes. They hadn’t been expecting to be thrown into ‘parenthood’ so suddenly but life works how it does for a reason, and to be fair Keira did have a bit of experience, dealing with Georgia and all.

Later that day, Lucy’s followers are blessed with a picture of you sitting across from them at the ice cream parlor eating your ice cream before a picture of her and Keira doing the same. It was a sweet moment between the small family, you had really found your true parents in the two women.

—

Trekking around with a knife and an apple was not an uncommon feat at the Walsh-Bronze household, especially not recently. Keira had banned you from using knives after you had accidentally cut off the tip of your pinky while cooking and had to go to the hospital to have it reattached to the rest of your finger. So now you were stuck with the ugly bandage on your hand and another reason for Keira to not let you do something, but you’re sure that she’s been looking for a reason to ban your use of knives for a while now.

You had already looked everywhere for the midfielder, Lucy had gone out to grocery shop so Keira was the only choice but you had exactly no idea where she was. Just as you’re about to break the hard imposed rule she had set and cut the apple yourself, you hear talking from the living room.

Walking into the room, you immediately spot Keira sitting on the couch talking to someone. At first, you don’t know who’s on the other line, but that is before you hear the heavily accented raspy voice of Keira’s best friend. Leah Williamson.

Both Keira and Lucy think your obvious crush on the defender is hilarious, always teasing you and speaking about introducing the two of you. Yet you had always been able to escape the premises before Keira had ever pressed the button under Leah’s name, going over to Vicky’s or in dire cases your captain’s house.

Your eyes widen drastically, but with Keira not noticing your obvious presence you slowly start to back away and out of the room. You see how Keira’s head snaps up in your direction as you accidentally step on one of Narla’s squeaky toys, producing a sound akin to that of a dying pig. Looking down at your feet and the offending device, the only thing you can think about is how the next few minutes are going to be pure hell and embarrassment for you. The next time you look up at the redhead she’s staring back at you with a teasing look in her eyes and a smile full of mirth, and you just know she’s thinking of ways to torture you.

“Y/n, just the person I was looking for! Come say hi to the people” Her eager movements indicating she wanted you to come closer simply don’t give you another choice, especially now that they know it’s you who entered the room. Walking over to the couch which she sits at, you’re careful with the knife still in your hand as you flop down beside her.

“Need help with my apple, please.” Without even responding, she hands you her phone while taking the things from your hands in a swapping gesture. The first thing you notice is how Leah's face only takes up half of the screen instead of the whole screen, clueing you in on what Keira meant by ‘the people’, it wasn’t a facetime call but an instagram live.

“Hi Y/n, I've heard a lot about you, all good things I promise” The wink she throws you isn’t a flirting one by any means, it’s one of those you throw out haphazardly at the end of one of those sentences like the one that just fell from her lips. And like anyone would in your situation, you stutter out a reply all while a blush overtakes your face.

“H-hey Leah” You pair with a wave as you hear Keira sigh beside you at your obvious awkwardness around people you thought of as attractive. “Keira talks about you all the time, so I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Keira was just telling me about her new habit of banning things around the house-“

“I have nothing to do with that-“ Keira cuts you off before you can continue lying about your clear involvement in doing things that you later get banned from.

“Excuse me, wasn’t it you who just had to spend nearly two hours in the ER to reattach the tip of your pinky after an accident in the kitchen? Wasn’t it that whole ordeal that made me ban your use of knives in the first place?” Her exposing you had the blush on your face turning a deeper shade of red as you relent, holding up your non-dominant hand covered in bandages from your wrist up to the tips of your pinky and ring finger. 

“To be fair, it wouldn’t have happened if Luce hadn’t distracted me in the first place. She’s too good at that.” If Lucy hadn’t made you look up by calling your name, then you wouldn’t have sliced through your finger instead of the cucumber and Keira wouldn’t have needed to pick up the bloody piece of flesh to put on ice while the distractor herself wrapped your finger tightly in a kitchen towel.

“What about the time before that, huh? The oven incident? Who’s fault was that?” She speaks as she hands you the now cut up apple and takes her phone from your unsteady hand, the phone displaying Leah’s clearly amused expression at the bickering happening in Spain.

“Gracias Kie” You cut yourself off as you take a bite of the juicy apple you’ve waited for so long before continuing what you were about to say. “That was mostly my fault, but how was I supposed to know that the baking sheet had been in the oven when there were no indications of it being hot” Keira just rolls her eyes at that, having told you multiple times before you picked up the metal that it was hot.

“As clumsy as Alessia then, are you?” Leah reminds you of her presence with the rapidly strung together sentence, and while you just look on confused as you hadn’t ever met any of Keira and Lucy’s national teammates she understands exactly what the blonde means.

“No, Alessia’s more clumsy clumsy while this one” She points at you with her thumb, “is dangerous clumsy. Less trips and falls over her feet casually, this one is barely allowed to use the butterknife ‘cause she might accidentally cut herself. Yeah, them two together would be chaotic. We would need double the manpower to keep them from injuring themself.”

Just as you’re about to retort, you hear the front door open and Lucy calling out for you. Sighing, you begrudgingly say goodbye before taking your leave to help Lucy with the groceries. You hear Keira say a quiet “She has the biggest crush on you” to Leah, but you simply can’t be bothered to react.

—

“Lucy, Luce, Roberta, wake up damnit” 

Being shaken awake by a frantic 15 year old is not something many do, usually at that age you’re more sophisticated and careful as you wake people if you do at all. And yet, Lucy finds herself in the predicament of having to decide whether to wake up or not, but as she hears the fast breathing and feels the hands on her still she decides to wake up.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I can’t help you if you don’t calm down, you know.” Now sitting up and more alert, Lucy pulls your shaking form down onto the bed she shares with the other English woman who has miraculously managed to stay asleep through all the ruckus. Holding you in her arms, she feels you calming down little by little until you’re completely still in her hold. She’s nearly convinced that you’ve managed to fall asleep as your steady breaths puff against her neck, but as you speak her assumptions are proven wrong.

“Had a bad dream, I wanted to make sure you and Kie were alright. If it’s not too much to ask for, could you tell me the story of the moon and the sun again?” Lucy had to hold back from letting the exclamation of adoration out at you immediately looking for her and Kiera after experiencing a nightmare. She remembers telling you the story her own mother had told her when she was a kid.

"Of course I can, it’s no problem” She waits for you to stop shifting around so much and to find a more comfortable position in between her and her girlfriend. When you finally still, she starts retelling the story she’s heard so many times before.

“Before there was anything, before me and you and everyone else on this planet existed there was a moon and a sun. Every night right before the moon would go to bed, it would notice the sun lighting up the sky with its incredible glow. As the moon woke up, the sun would go to sleep and its shine would be gone, the moon would miss the very thing it so longed for. So the moon devised a plan, a plan to not miss the bright light of its long lost love, a plan of great excellence and intrigue. And so the night of the plan came, the moon waiting for the rays of sunshine to overtake the dark of the sky it had been so used to. As the sky lit up with soft rays of orangey yellow, the moon couldn’t think of anything other than how much more beautiful everything was when it was lit up by the sun.” 

Lucy felt the way you had slumped against her halfway through the story, now sure about your unconscious state.

“You’re good with her” Keira speaks from the other side of your body and Lucy smiles at the sound of her voice.

 “Thank you”

—

When you heard that team bonding would take place at the zoo, you couldn’t have been more excited. On the contrary, both of your team moms were less than happy about the choice of location for the activity knowing they were going to have a hyperactive Y/n on their hands. But as luck would have it, the kiddie leash they had ordered for these occasions had come in the week prior. It was one of those backpacks with the leash attached to the back of it that you would see parents with unruly children use. 

After a bit of bribing, they got past the initial protests of you not being a child and got you to put on the dinosaur backpack, they tightened it to make sure it wouldn’t fall off before walking out of the house together.

They made sure to use the backpack function as well, stuffing it with your drinks and snacks. You’re nearly at the zoo when they realize the absence of the memory of you taking your medication that morning, and at that moment they are incredibly thankful for making you wear the backpack.

Watching as you flip Mapi off for making fun of your new accessory, they don’t have the heart to tell you off for the obscene gesture. Not when it was their fault you were getting made fun of in the first place. 

Like always, you gravitate towards the younger members of the team while Keira does the older ones. This leaves Lucy to go with you to your friends and Keira to walk over to hers. 

“Vicky look at my backpack, isn’t it cool?” You skip over to her, clutching onto the fabric hanging over your shoulders as Lucy tries to keep up with your overly energetic self.

“It’s really cool Y/n” Vicky’s words mean a lot to you, her becoming a close friend and a sisterly figure for you with her being so close in age. 

When everyone is rounded up, they buy their tickets one by one and wait on the other side of the gates for the rest. Once inside, you’re rushing around buzzing to see all the animals that you can’t see normally. Like the saying goes, time goes faster when you’re having fun, you soon find yourself eating lunch with half the day being spent with different animals. You and Lucy are throwing teasing comments at each other like usual when an innocent comment starts an onslaught of funny statements.

“Y/n when I was your age-” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before you start.

“Luce, when you were my age I wasn’t even born yet. In fact you made your senior debut for Sunderland a year before I was born.” That shut her up, not knowing that you had done your research on her. 

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch and as you walk home, you can’t help but wonder why life has been so good to you lately. But you don’t think for too long, instead being happy with the course your life has taken.

But everything everyone can talk about when the pictures of the day are released is how you had to wear the kiddie leash. 

—

Lately you’ve been using TikTok a bit more often, not much more than before but there was a difference. This meant that you had discovered new trends and edits of your teammates, you had even followed a couple of accounts making videos of your teammates to show them later. 

But when you saw the video on your recommended page, you just knew it would be perfect for you to use with Lucy and Kiera. The perfect opportunity to strike comes up when they ask you to join them for a walk with Narla later that day, to which you agree. 

You let them walk in front of you as you slow down, TikTok open on your phone ready to record the interaction. You hold your thumb on the red button as you start by recording yourself mouthing the words before turning it to them and recording them in time with the sound.

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you decide to edit the clip later and enjoy the walk you currently were on. 

Arriving home, you go to your room and type out the in video caption of ‘when they take you out on walks with their dog’. Before posting the video you type the usual caption, ‘walks with Robert and shaKeira (narla was there too)’.

An hour later the two victims barge into your room and unexpectedly hug you, expecting them to be ‘annoyed’ at you but that wasn’t the case.

“You think of us as your parents?” You see Lucy discreetly wipe a tear from her eye, but you pretend not to notice it.

“Well yeah, you guys have been more like my parents these last few months than my biological ones have been all 14 years they had me around.” The two just embrace you harder at that, and you can feel their love seeping through their actions.

“So I take it you like my mama y papa video then?” The two of them just press a kiss to either side of your face, and you feel truly happy for the family you have gotten since you moved to Barcelona.

Nearly took longer to post this, my hand is burnt. Hope you enjoyed, this was a pretty shit one. Promise the next one is Lessi

[rottenpumpkin13]

Imagine the firsts getting competitive over queens blood

Why Queen's Blood Is Banned From SOLDIER, A List

• Some people don't know how to play fair and make up rules on the spot, which results in arguments between opponents. One time Zack made up the rule that slapping down three cactuar cards automatically wins the game, and Kunsel was so enraged he shoved a cactuar card down Zack's throat.

• Some people⏤Sephiroth⏤are too good at QB and and it angers others who don't stand a chance against them, leading to cheating accusations. This came after Angeal was so convinced Sephiroth was cheating that he called the police. This resulted in Lazard having to explain to the dispatched officers that the "cheating" in question was because of QB and not Sephiroth cheating on his apparent lover Angeal.

• Some people⏤Genesis⏤don't know how to lose, which turns the above point violent. Genesis has been known to throw entire decks out the window and set them on fire if he loses. If he loses to Sephiroth, guarantee the table will be broken in half and they end up on the ground in a fist fight.

• Sephiroth lost to Genesis once and Genesis never let him forget it, bringing it up in every conversation. Sephiroth grew tired of this, so he did the healthy thing and attempted to staple Genesis's mouth shut.

• The matches take too long because no one wants to lose, so they spend time planning their moves and strategies. One match between Angeal and Zack took three hours, they skipped a giant mission they had been prepping for weeks for, Lazard had a heart attack, and in the end Zack realized he had spent three hours pouring his concentration into the game for nothing. He had to be sedated.

• The Counterfeit Booster Pack Fiasco: Kunsel started selling shady "limited edition" QB decks behind Lazard's back⏤selling things is also banned from the 49th floor. They started selling like hot cakes, but Lazard caught wind that there was something going on. So he interrogated Sephiroth.

Lazard: I know that there's unauthorized goods being distributed amongst the program.

Sephiroth: You don't say.

Lazard: Tell me what it is.

Sephiroth: How would I know?

Lazard: Eyewitnesses claim to have seen you purchase something from Kunsel in the men's bathroom this morning.

Sephiroth, not thinking AT ALL: It was candy.

• And that's why sniffer dogs were brought in at 9 AM on a Wednesday and everyone had to do a drug test.

• Random people pop in at random times of the day to play against SOLDIERs. Reno uses this as a way to bet money and has scammed Zack out of three paychecks already. Cloud swings by on occasion to beat all three 1sts, enjoy watching them lose, and leaves.

• Deck theft runs rampant. Every day there are reports over stolen QB decks and accusations that have ruined several friendships, which hinders everyone's ability to work together. No one is safe. Sephiroth's deck got stolen, Genesis's deck got stolen, Angeal accused Sephiroth and Genesis of theft, Zack....has a suspicious amount of good cards.

• People play when they should be working.

Lazard: Angeal, where's your mission report?

Angeal: Genesis ate it.

Lazard: Excuse me?

Angeal: I beat Sephiroth in a QB match and Genesis was so jealous and enraged he grabbed the report right off my desk and chewed off a chunk.

Lazard: I'm convinced that there's crack in those apples.

• The straw that broke the camel's back and got QB officially banned, though, was the match between Sephiroth and Genesis that ended in them getting stitches because they discovered a way to effectively stab each other with the cards.

• Its rumored that the mere mention of Queen's Blood is enough to make Lazard have a nervous breakdown.

[callofdudes]

More ✨ incorrect cod quotes!! ✨

Ghost: We need a distraction.

Price: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Soap, whispering: My time has come

--------

Soap: Do you need help getting up?

Ghost: Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor

---------

Ghost: What did you order this morning?

Soap: What do you mean?

Ghost: I heard you answer the door, and I sensed food.

--------

Soap: So... what’s goin’ on?

Ghost: You want the long version or the short version?

Soap, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Ghost: Shit’s fucked.

Soap: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

--------

Soap: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Ghost: *in the cell next to him* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

--------

Soap: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT!

Ghost: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone.

Soap: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch?

Ghost: Somehow that's worse.

--------

Soap: What do I get?

Ghost: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death.

Soap: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one.

Ghost: It won't be you.

Soap: I'll get my coat.

---------

Soap, shooing Ghost away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

--------

Soap: Hey, wanna hear a funny joke?

Ghost: I only like dark humor.

Soap, turning the lights off: What do you call a fake noodle?

Ghost:

Soap: An IMPASTA!

--------

Gaz, gesturing to Price: Ghost, look what you did! You made Mom upset!

Soap: Mom, please don’t cry, we’re sorry!

Ghost: I’m sorry Mom... :(

Price, near tears: I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!

-------

Price, filling out legal paperwork: Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB?

Soap: Bold of you to assume I was born at all.

Ghost: I personally was created in a lab.

Gaz: I just straight up spawned lol.

-------

Ghost: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something!

Gaz: You left me, Soap, and Price in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Ghost: I did that on purpose, try again.

-------

Soap: So, what, now I'm just supposed to do anything Gaz does? I mean, what if he jumped off a cliff?

Price: If Gaz were to jump off a cliff, he would've done his due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Gaz jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.

Ghost: You jump off a cliff!

Price: Gladly, provided Gaz did first.

-------

Ghost: ARE YOU-

Soap: Fucking.

Ghost: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Soap: Fucking.

Ghost: IDIOT!

Gaz: …What was that?

Soap: Price banned Ghost from swearing, so I’m helping them out.

-------

Soap: *falls down the stairs*

Price: Are you okay?

Gaz: Stop falling down the stairs!

Ghost: How’d the ground taste?

-------

Gaz: Hey Soap, wanna third wheel on my date with Price tomorrow?

Soap: Sure.

Gaz: Ghost! Wanna third wheel on my date with Price tomorrow?

Gaz: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date!

Soap and Ghost: ...

Price: Gaz...

------

Price: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.

Soap: Throw rocks at he.

Gaz: Hot Dogs.

Ghost: Kill him.

Price: Thanks guys.

-------

Soap: Made you all playlists!

Soap: Ghost, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Soap: Gaz, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Soap: And Price has the ABBA Gold album.

-------

Gaz: *about Soap and Ghost* They make a cute couple, huh?

Price: They certainly are standing next to each other.

-------

Price: HYDRATE OR DIE-DRATE!

Price: *aggressively throws water bottles*

Ghost: Uh... what's up with him?

Gaz: He's trying to yell mental health and wellbeing into us.

Price: I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU!

Soap, crying: It's working.

-------

Soap: Ghost, come out of your room right now!

Ghost: You're not my dad!

Soap: Yeah well I can hit like him!

Soap:...

Soap: Ghost I-

Ghost, slamming his door open: You have three seconds to run.

Soap: L-look at you... o-out of your room..

Soap, screaming as Ghost chases him down the hallway:

-------

Price: Yesterday, I watched Ghost try to eat a decorative rock from Soap's potted plant. Gaz caught him, and told him he can't eat rocks. Ghost started whining something about no food being in the house before walking away.

------

Gaz, watching Soap and Price fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt?

Ghost, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other.

Gaz: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three?

Soap: Ghost.

Price: Ghost.

Ghost: Me.

-------

Gaz: What’s it like being tall?

Soap: Is it nice?

Gaz: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Ghost: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

------

Soap: My stomach growled super loud in French.

Soap: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class.

Gaz: Bonjour.

Ghost: Le growl.

Gaz: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

-------

Ghost: I told Price to grab snacks for everyone.

Gaz, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks?

*Ghost, Price, and Soap raise their hands*

[asher-agere]

Any hcs for little!Tachihara an Cg! Hunting dogs? /nf!! Take your time if you do want to do it!! ^^

Aww you’re so sweet! But I can absolutely do that, so no worries!

Little Tachihara + Caregiver Hunting Dogs

જ⁀➴

❀ I think Tachihara is a pretty all over the place baby! I think at the beginning, like before he had his mission working undercover with the mafia, he’d have more energy! A happy bouncy excited baby! But after he grows close to the mafia I think he’d grow quieter, more closed off to them. He struggles being close to both groups, he feels like he’s betraying his family no matter where he is

❀ For the most part we’ll focus on before his undercover mafia mission! I think he’d regress to more of a toddler headspace, 3-5. Very energetic! He loves getting to play with his caregivers! Sometimes he’ll get sad and mopey, remembering his lost brother or how little his parents cared about him… Sad baby means clingy baby! He just needs hugs and soon enough he’ll be a giggling baby once again!

❀ Onto individual interactions! Teruko can act really immature sometimes, so she’s like babies best friend! Teruko is the one to go to when Tachihara wants to play! They definitely have a sibling type bond! Teruko can use her ability to turn Tachihara into a literal baby too! Very helpful! Stops the little one’s mind from worrying about why his body is so big even though he feels so small… Teruko to the rescue of course!

❀ Teruko will also use her ability on herself to make the baby laugh! She’ll do funny voices and change her age to match! It’s perfect for story time. But she’ll also use it to tease the other members! She’ll turn super old and mimic Fukuchi for example! (He’s always very heavily offended) Nicknames I think Teruko would use! “Tachi” “Little Guy” or just “Baby” Tachihara usually calls her “Sis” or “Sissy”!

❀ Tetchō is very much so a quiet caregiver! He very compliant, willing to give little Tachihara just about whatever he wants! Tetchō is very easy to convince of things. For example bedtime may be at 10 PM, however if Tachihara explains a super important reason he needs to stay up Tetchō will totally let him! And just saying he needs to watch a specific show for example is a plenty good reason! The other Hunting Dogs aren’t very pleased

❀ Tetchō is banned from snack duty. One time he put cheese in Tachihara’s applesauce… Poor little guy was disgusted. He didn’t want to be mean of course though! Luckily Jōno was watching and quickly solved the problem! Tetchō would use nicknames like “Little One” or “Baby” but for the most part he honestly just uses Tachihara’s name

❀ Jōno can be a strict caregiver! He always knows what Tachihara is up to! Even if the little one is being super duper sneaky he can’t even make it out of the room before Jōno is calling out “Back here, now” But it’s not like Jōno is being mean! He lets little Tachihara do things of course, Tachihara just needs to ask first. Otherwise the little guy will end up doing things he shouldn’t

❀ Jōno doesn’t really like watching cartoons or listening to music in the background, the noise just clogs up his senses that he’s trying to focus on the little one, and he can’t actually see the TV. I think he’d really like playing with cars or trains! Toys that run along the ground a lot. Makes it easy for him to keep up and focus more of his attention on the baby! Jōno would use pet names such as “Brat” (Said with love of course!) “Tachi” or “Pip-Squeak”! He teases a lot hehe

❀ Fukuchi is such a silly caregiver! He acts all noble and dignified… But he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Age regression is a very foreign concept to him, but he’s more than happy to comply for little Tachihara! He’s told to treat Tachihara like a baby. He can do that! In his eyes Tachihara is literally a baby now. He’ll always carry Tachihara around, always cooing at him and doing everything the baby might need!

❀ Fukuchi would love to watch cartoons! He’s very fascinated by them and always laughs way more than he’s expecting to (Jōno calls it obnoxious, but no one seriously complains as long as little Tachihara is happy!) Fukuchi would use nicknames like “Buddy” “Little Guy” and “Son” (I don’t necessarily see them as a father son relationship? I just think Fukuchi calls everyone younger than him Son. Yes this includes Teruko, no she is not pleased)

❀ After he starts with the Mafia Tachihara grows more reliant on the Hunting Dogs! He can’t regress around the Mafia, can’t get close to them. But over time as he’s able to rely more on the Mafia he sorta drifts away from the Hunting Dogs. He relies on them less, they agree on less. No huge changes! Just a little gap that everyone seems to notice

જ⁀➴

I hope you enjoyed! I mainly focused on his time before the mafia to make it more fluffy than angsty hehe, plus the more he relied on the Hunting Dogs the more they’d interact so that’s convenient too. Have a great day/night everyone!

[fanartandfanfiction]

Adventures in Snake- Sitting

Aesop heard a frantic knocking at his door. He already knew who it was before he opened it.

“What have I told you about coming here?”

Melody looked anxious. “I have a favor to ask. Ominis and Sebastian are at Feldcroft for the weekend and asked me to watch Meatball because Anne is afraid of snakes. Something’s come up and I need to go. Can you watch Meatball? It’ll be like one or two hours tops.”

Aesop looked down at the happy-looking snake in her bag. “Can’t you just leave him in his terrarium?”

“No, he’s a flight risk. If he goes after the headmaster one more time, he’s banned from the school. Would you please watch him? It’s important.” She pouted and gave him puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine.” 

“Thank you! Be a good boy, Meatball.” She smooched the snake on the top of his head. “His talking buttons are in there, just spread them out.” She handed him the bag and practically ran down the hall. 

“Hello, Meatball. You can explore but be careful. Now, what are talking buttons?”

Meatball slid out of the bag and waited for him to take out the buttons. Once they were placed, he slithered over and pressed one with his head.

“Hello!”

“Oh, that’s quite clever!” He smiled.

“Hello!”

“Yes, hello.”

“Hello!”

Aesop sighed. “Hello Meatball.” 

He slithered over and pressed two more buttons. “Meatball! Sad.”

“You’re sad? Because Melody left?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry. She’ll be back.” 

“Meatball. Sad. Ominis. Melody. No. Sebastian.” 

“Not a fan of Mr. Sallow? I can’t say I blame you.”

“Meatball. No. Like. Sebastian. Sebastian. Meatball. MAD!” 

Aesop smiled at the snake. It was adorable watching him press the buttons with his nose. He was quite intelligent too.

“These are quite clever indeed. What do they all do?”

Meatball slithered around pressing buttons. “Yes. No. Happy. Sad. MAD! Like. Love. Hungry. Sleepy. Melody. Ominis. Sebastian. Garreth.”

“Why do you have a Garreth button? I can see the other three…”

“Meatball. Love. Garreth.” Meatball seemed to be smiling.

“I don’t see the appeal, but alright. I’m wondering if perhaps there’s an enchantment we could use to help you speak. Let’s go visit Abraham.” He held out the bag for Meatball to slither into.

Meatball rode happily in the bag with his head sticking out so he could see where he was going. Aesop walked down to Abraham’s room and knocked.

“Aesop! What a surprise!” Abraham smiled. 

“Hello Abraham. I trust you know Meatball?”

“Ah, hello my little friend!” Abraham held his hand out and Meatball flicked it with his tongue. “Are you babysitting?”

“I suppose so. I was wondering if I could pick your brain about something. You see, Meatball uses buttons to talk. I was wondering if perhaps there was an enchantment to help him speak. Right now he’s quite limited.”

“Perhaps. Let me see those buttons.” They went back to Aesop’s room and Meatball demonstrated how he used his buttons.

“You are quite intelligent, Mr. Meatball!” Ronen grinned. “I think I shall need to consult some books. Please accompany me to the library.” 

Meatball slithered back into the bag and Sharp hoisted it onto his shoulder. They began walking to the library and Aesop froze when he saw Phineas walking towards them. “Oh no. Meatball Ioves him.” He looked at Meatball and the bag and whispered “please behave. You’ll get Ominis and Melody in trouble.”

“Gentlemen.” Phineas nodded. He’d just returned from a trip and was levitating his luggage behind him.

“Hello Phineas! How was your trip to the ministry?” Ronen asked with a smile.

“Just as dreadfully boring as always. If you’ll excuse me, I’m eager to return to my quarters.”

“Of course.” They said their goodbyes and Aesop sighed. “Good job Meat-“ he looked down at the now-empty bag. “MEATBALL!” 

He and Ronen looked in the direction Phineas was walking and saw Meatball quickly slithering behind him.

“Shit!” Aesop swore. They took off at a run towards Meatball, who was now slithering into the partially unzipped suitcase Phineas had set on the ground. 

“We need to get that suitcase!”

“How do we do that?” 

“I don’t know.” Garreth Weasley happened to be walking by and Aesop had an idea.

“GARRETH!”

Garreth jumped and looked panicked. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Apologies, Mr. Weasley. I need your assistance. This is the one and only time I will ask this of you. I need you to cause a distraction so we can get Meatball out of the headmaster’s luggage.”

“Oh shit!” Garreth’s eyes widened. “Sorry. Meatball is obsessed with him for some reason. I’ll figure something out.” Garreth took off at a run in Phineas’ direction.

“Hey Professor Black, I’ve been working on my juggling! Watch!” Garreth picked up a bust of Phineas and a bust of a former headmaster. 

“PUT THOSE DOWN, MR. WEASLEY!”

“I need them for my act!” Phineas chased Garreth down the hall and Aesop and Abraham dove for the suitcase. They unzipped it and Meatball popped up, a pair of Phineas’ underwear on his head. 

Abraham started laughing while Aesop removed the leopard print briefs and snatched Meatball. He shoved Meatball into the bag and he and Ronen headed in the direction of the library once more.

“Meatball, PLEASE! You’re going to get Melody and Ominis in trouble!” 

Meatball flicked his tongue across his hand in apology. “Stay hidden. I’m fairly certain snakes are not allowed in the library.” 

“Good evening Madame Scribner!” Ronen greeted the librarian. “Aesop and I need to access the restricted section.”

“Here you go. Watch the key closely, some of those tricksters may try to snatch it.” She handed them the key and they went down the stairs. 

They were alone in the restricted section, so Sharp took Meatball out of the bag and set him on the desk. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, but I thought you might want out of the bag.” 

“Have a seat, Aesop, I’m going to pull a few things.” Abraham said, already searching. Aesop sat at the desk with Meatball, who slithered over and booped his hand.

“What?” He asked. Meatball booped his hand again so he lifted it up. Meatball slithered under it and smiled at him. “Oh, you’re wanting me to pet you. I shouldn’t after that stunt you pulled earlier.” He sighed and rubbed Meatball’s head. “You know, I enjoy your company more than I expected. I don’t mean offense, I’ve just never been a pet person.” Meatball flicked his tongue across his hand. “Perhaps I should get a snake. Though I don’t know if it would be as docile as you.” 

Abraham came back with a few books. “Alright Mr. Meatball. I think I have found something that may work. Are you willing to let me try?” Meatball slithered over to him and waited. “Alright, this is rather complex, so I need to focus.” Abraham began moving his wand in small motions over Meatball’s head and muttering a series of words. After about a minute of mumbling and waving, he lightly touched Meatball’s head with his wand. “Speak.”

“Hello!” Meatball said in a small, somewhat high pitched voice.

Abraham and Aesop cheered. “Well done, Abraham!”

“Meatball happy!” Meatball wagged his tail.

“Wait, can he not speak in full sentences?” Aesop asked.

“Meatball speak best he can.” He slithered over to Aesop. “Meatball like you!” 

“I like you too, Meatball.” Aesop smiled.

“What call you?” He cocked his head. 

“You may call me Aesop.”

“Melody no call Aesop. Melody call dad.”

“She calls me her dad?” He smiled. 

“Meatball call dad?” 

“Um, I suppose so.”

“Meatball like dad! Meatball happyyyy!” 

“Well that’s adorable!” Abraham grinned. 

“What Meatball call you?” Meatball slithered over to Ronen. 

“I am Abraham, but you may call me grandpa if you wish.”

“Seriously, Abraham?” Sharp asked with a smirk.

“What? I would love to be grandpa to this wonderful boy!” 

“Grandpa!” Meatball wagged his tail happily like a dog. 

“Meatball want to see the leader.” 

“What?” Aesop asked.

“The tall green snake with legs.”

“Perhaps Phineas would be more open if he could speak?” Abraham asked. 

“I suppose we can try.”

They’d spoken with Matilda first and asked her opinion. She hadn’t been present the day Meatball had gotten loose and had only heard what Phineas had said. Meatball was currently sitting on her desk. 

“What Meatball call you?” He asked.

“You may call me Matilda.” She smiled.

“Matilda, pretty name!” Meatball flicked his tongue.

“Why thank you! You seem like a gentle fellow. Let me go speak with Phineas. Please wait here.” 

“Who Matilda?” Meatball asked Aesop, with a cock of his head. 

“She’s the deputy headmistress. She’s also Garreth’s aunt.”

“Meatball LOVE Garreth!”

“I know.” 

They waited a few minutes and Matilda came back to her office. “Well, he’s agreed to meet Meatball. But he’s also quite drunk. So I suppose now is probably your best chance. Come with me.” Aesop put Meatball back in the bag and they followed Matilda to his office. 

“Remember Meatball, don’t rush at him or you’ll scare him. Baby steps.”

“Meatball be baby.” 

They walked into Phineas’ office and he was sitting at his desk. “Alright. I’ll see your snake.” 

Aesop set the bag down on the desk. “Phineas, this is Meatball. He won’t bite you, he’s very friendly, and he likes you a lot.” 

Meatball slithered out of the bag and sat up, looking at Phineas. 

“I suppose it is sort of cute in like, a mildly horrifying way.” Phineas looked at Meatball.

“Hello!” Phineas jumped backwards and fell out of his chair.

“Holy shit, it can talk!” They helped Phineas back into his chair and he was gaping at Meatball.

“Hello little friend!” Phineas said, examining the snake.

“Hello leader!” 

“Leader? Well, he’s quite intelligent if he recognizes my status.” Phineas was still full of himself even when he was three sheets to the wind.

“What call you?” Meatball asked.

“I am Phineas Nigellus Black.”

“Long name.” Meatball flicked his tongue. “Call Phineas?” 

“Yes, you may call me Phineas.”

“Me Meatball!”

“Yes, we’ve met on several occasions.” Phineas said with a small smile. 

“Meatball think you WONDERFUL!” He slithered closer. 

“Go ahead and pet him, Phineas.” Aesop said. 

Phineas nervously stuck his hand out and Meatball slithered to it and bumped his head against Phineas’ hand. He flicked his tongue across his hand and Phineas chuckled. “Alright, that’s enough.” He sat back in his chair. “Now Meatball. I’m alright with you visiting on occasion, but we have some ground rules. Do not follow me into the bathroom. Do not go into my private quarters. In fact, it would be best if you spoke to Matilda when you wanted to visit to make sure I’m available, I’m quite busy, you know.”

“Ok!” Meatball said happily. 

“Alright, good. Now, I’m going to retire for the evening. Go on now, go home or wherever it is you go.”

“He’s with me for the time being. Goodnight.” Phineas put Meatball back into the bag and they all left. 

“Well, I’d say that went quite well, wouldn’t you?” Matilda smiled.

“Better than I expected.” Aesop smiled. 

“I thought Meatball belonged to Mr. Gaunt?”

“He does, but he’s out of town. Miss Carlisle was watching him but had to step out for a bit and asked me to watch him since SOMEONE is a flight risk.”

“Meatball sorry.” Meatball said from the bag. 

“Thank you, Matilda. Have a good night.” Aesop smiled and he and Abraham headed back to the staff tower. 

When they were about to climb the stairs, they ran into Melody. “Oh! I was about to come look for you!” She smiled. 

“Melody. Why are you covered in soot?” Aesop looked at the poor girl. Her clothes were burnt and smoking, her face had a layer of gray soot, and she looked as if she’d been in a fight.

“Uuuuuuuuuum.”

“Hello Melody!”

She jumped and looked at the bag. “Meatball?!”

“Meatball missed you!”

“I missed you too! How is he talking?!” She looked between him and Abraham. 

“You answer my question first.” He said with a glare. 

“This looks like a family dispute. I’ll be on my way! Goodbye, Mr. Meatball!”

“Bye Grandpa!”

“Grandpa?” Melody asked. 

Aesop sighed. “We’ve had an eventful evening. Don’t change the subject.”

Melody was chewing on her lip. “Blasting curse gone wrong.”

“Wrong answer.”

Melody groaned. “Fiiiine, you’re a human lie detector. I broke into a dragon fighting ring and released a Hungarian horntail and she was a bit crabby.”

“You WHAT?!” 

“Someone had to do it!”

“Not you!”

“Then who?!”

“An officer of the law!”

“Guess what, I saw a few there! Betting!” 

Aesop’s face fell. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t believe the people I saw there. And what they were doing to those dragons…I knew they’d be close by tonight. But I freed her. I have another small problem but that’s for another day.”

“I feel like it’s not a small problem at all.” Aesop said with a glare. 

“She left her egg behind. I couldn’t leave it for the poachers!”

“MELODY!” Aesop’s hands shot up to his hair. “Are you INSANE?!”

“What was I supposed to do?!”

He exhaled before speaking. “Where is it?”

“In my backpack.”

“Jesus CHRIST!” 

“On that note…can you watch Meatball again tomorrow while I track mama dragon down?”

“You’re going to kill me. You’re actually going to kill me. I am going to DIE because you keep finding new ways to terrify me!” 

“Would you calm down?!”

“No! I will not calm down! Because you are sixteen years old and have absolutely no regard for your own safety!”

“But-”

“No buts! You will give the egg to me and I will find a way to get it back safely. I’m proud of you for wanting to do the right thing but this is bigger than you.”

“You’re proud of me?” Melody smiled. 

“Of course I’m proud of you. You intercepted a dragon fighting ring and freed a dragon. I don’t even know if I could do that.”

Melody rushed forward and hugged him. He awkwardly patted her on the head. “And if you ever do anything like it again, you will be in SO much trouble.”

“Are we sure he’s not her real father?” Dinah whispered to Abraham and Mirabel. They were watching over the railing from two floors up.

“He’s her father now. That’s what matters.” Abraham smiled. “They needed each other, I think.”

They watched the two of them continue to talk and he handed over Meatball and she handed over her bag with the egg. She left and he looked up just as they ducked out of sight. “I could see your shadows. I’m disappointed in you, Dinah, you were an auror too and should know how to hide better!”

[imagionationstation]

Okay, so…

As I was in the mist of ✨emotions✨, my explanation skills were barely sub-par, and I gave a lot of people misconceptions to my thoughts on the episode “A China Town Ghoststory”.

So let’s try and fix that.

The episode itself is okay as a fill-in ep that doesn’t have anything to do with the season plot-wise, though it’s existence didn’t really seem necessary, other than an early acknowledgment that ‘impossible spiritual powers do exist so be ready’, which set me up to accept explanations on the unexplained and impossible, like Vision Quest and Leo’s Healing Hands.

Spiritual insanity simply exists. There’s no more to it than that.

And I appreciate that they introduced it without a clichè, “by the way they suddenly have magic as a big plot-point even tho it hasn’t existed at all until now! Why? Oh, I dunno, it’s in their blood or something I guess.”

We got a casual introduction by a villain that only ever comes up once more in all five seasons. Respect. 3/4 out of five stars.

The one aspect that always boils my blood when it comes to this episode, however, is the fight scene between Donnie and his brothers. The first time I saw this episode, I did not understand how they went from trying to kill Donnie, to- Oh, look, let’s go get some pizza! (As my new-to-turtles mind interpreted it).

I was extremely confused, and continued to be confused for the next few watches. Then, at one point while doing research, I saw the scene from Donnie’s eyes, and not from the eyes of a viewer. And I was even more mortified by what I saw.

The way this scene plays out really feels like (note: I’m saying ‘feels like’ and not ‘definitely is’) the brothers were choosing pizza over Donnie. The episode was kinda insulting, the way they go through this whole insane battle, throw him out of a tornado, and then just… Go bicker over pizza? Really?

It makes sense when you lay it all out. The brothers are acting as brainwashed guard-dogs. Donnie is a danger to what they’re guarding. The only way for Ho Chan to keep control is for the brothers to not recognize who it is they’re hurting. The spell makes them see him as a danger, and they don’t fully comprehend that they’re about to end a brother’s life while serving an evil sorcerer.

There’s nothing dangerous or threatening about pizza. It’s something they love, and something they’ve been known to bicker about. If the brothers are in there subconsciously fighting back, it would make sense that they would give into the urge to go after the pizza pies and stop serving their ‘master’. Use the brainwashed aggression to fight over pizzas, or assault the brother who wants to help the captives that you’re guarding. Easy choice.

No matter how you look at it (whether they have some control or they have zero control), it would make sense that they’d go after the pizzas.

Still.

Still.

This must be horrific to witness from Donnie’s POV. Super-powered brothers all banning together to fight you to the death, and every instinct in your being is like “well, I can’t kill them!”- so you’re forced on defense the entire time. One wrong move and you’re dead, and it’ll be at their hands- and it doesn’t really look like they’re fighting back. They’re hurting and chucking and attacking you, seemingly willing to kill you without a second thought, and it’s like they don’t even care-

And for this big brain boy and his canon insecurities, Donnie is going to be overthinking this one moment way more than he should be for a long time.

The way that he still hasn’t picked himself off the ground when Casey reaches his side, and then has to lift him up to snap him out of a shocked stupor- well, that says something to me.

I feel like this episode could have and should have played out differently, but I know many people wouldn’t agree.

To summarize:

…..

I KNOW IT’S A CARTOON AND SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY AND ALL

I REALLY DO

BUT FROM A REAL PERSPECTIVE THIS IS TERRIBLE

WHY THE WRITERS HAVE TO JERK AROUND HIS EMOTIONS LIKE THAT, HMM?! 🥺

My rewrite of this scene is here

[breathlesslink]

Chapter 3 — Protection

[chapter warnings: slight harassment, self doubt]

t.o.c ; << | >>

"This is for you."

"Should you really be giving a kid a knife?"

"Hush. It's for her protection. I trust that she'd only use it in emergencies, isn't that right, Kimi?"

"Yes! Only if bad guys come."

Link stood behind you with a look of horror on his face as Kimi held the dagger delicately in her palm, turning it every way to inspect it. You crouched in front of her, only able to take in your little sister's face for the last time in a while.

Every little move had Link jumping, ready to snatch the blade away from Kimi and tend to a wound, but he didn't know one thing.

Kimi had been handling weapons since before she could even walk. You remembered having to pull a scimitar away from her little toddler grasp before she tried to chew on it like a teething toy, the Yiga who was watching her having given it to her to stop her crying.

You had full trust that Kimi, now at 11 years old, was capable of safely handling the dagger you'd gifted her.

"Do you really have to go?"

Kimi's puppy-dog eyes shined with tears as her question brought you from your memories. You bit your lip, your heart aching at the thought of having to leave her with Ameil.

"Yeah, Ki. We've got stuff to do— finding Hiro too!" You forced a smile. "Stay safe for me, I'll be back as soon as I can."

"And you'll bring Hiro with you?"

"And I'll bring Hiro with me. I promise."

You wiped at your eyes, giving Kimi one last hug before she hid the knife in her waistband and turned around, heading home.

Ameil and Laslow didn't know she was with you and Link at the Inn, the events from last night making them ban her from seeing you again. However, Kimi— who's always been the sneaky sibling— slipped through her window early the next morning and made her way to you. Nobody could keep her away from her big sister.

You had told Kimi to keep her back turned when she went home, and you would do the same, to make parting ways easier. It was a shame they had to happen so fast.

You didn't realize you were staring at the now-empty space in front of you until you felt Link's gloved hand on the small of your back. You blinked up at him and forced a watery smile before turning around as well and heading towards the gate where Taz and Epona were waiting.

"It's about a day and a half journey to the Domain. If we get going now, we'll probably be able to stop at Dueling Peaks Stable for the night." Link talked about the plan to try and distract you further.

"Good idea." You mused, "I don't think I'm ready to give up beds yet."

Link laughed. "One of these days you'll have to. But the good thing is that once you get to sleep on a bed after sleeping on the ground for so long, it feels extra relaxing."

"I'm sure!" You started thinking back about Link's past— how he went from the Princess's appointed knight to some clueless, feral homeless man. "I bet you had the nicest bed ever in the castle."

"I don't remember it, but I bet I did too!" He sighed wistfully, but you could see his smile drop ever so slightly. "I wonder what it would have been like if I could have actually protected Hyrule. Like, if I didn't fail."

"It doesn't seem like you failed to me," You shrugged, "Hyrule isn't destroyed yet."

"Because of Zelda. After they put me away, she was the one who confronted Ganon. She's still in the castle, fighting him. She's been holding him off for 100 years, waiting for me." You could tell Link was getting frustrated, so you pulled Taz closer to him. You laid your hand on his, which was gripping Epona's reins tightly. Link immediately began to relax.

"Well, that's what we're doing now. We're helping her, and once all the beasts are free, we fight Ganon!"

"Correction. I fight Ganon. You're not going anywhere near the Divine Beasts or him."

You roll your eyes, "I bet I can do more than you think I can."

"I'm sure, but this is my burden. My old friends already died because of me, I'm not going to let you have the same fate."

"Fuck fate, we make our own destiny."

Link just shook his head, still grinning at you. "I wish it were that easy."

When traveling with Link, the hours seemed to pass like mere seconds. Unlike when you first met him, he became easier and easier to talk to and joke around with.

It was nice to have someone new around.

You wondered if being with only your siblings for so long, and then just the Gerudo women had stunted your social skills, but you supposed not. That, or Link was just as strange as you are. It would make sense, seeing as though he hadn't talked to anyone for 100 years.

However bad your social skills were, they surely were improving as you both talked nonstop. Before you knew it, you had passed the Cliffs of Qince and Ash Swamp once more, heading towards the stable. It wasn't much longer until you'd stop for the night, and you were grateful.

"So," You took a moment, worried that you might breach a touchy topic, but you were curious. "What will happen after you kill Ganon?"

"If I kill Ganon." Link corrected. "And I haven't thought about it, I guess. We'd have to rebuild. Make sure everyone is safe and the country can get back on its feet again. If Impa is right and Zelda is still alive in there, we'll at least have a Queen to guide Hyrule."

You nodded. You were curious about his plans. You knew the plan you were always taught— once Hyrule was wiped out completely, the Yiga hoped Ganon would return Sheikah technology to its rightful owners and give them solace amongst the chaos of the monsters. They would finally get their revenge against the Hylians. After all, the Yiga were only created for those who despised the Hylians for exiling the Sheikah race and shunned those who turned away their technological advances.

But seeing Link's side seemed almost sad to you. The Yiga were so filled with hatred and malice towards Hyrule— to the point that they sided with someone bound to betray them— and yet Link just wanted to help people. He wasn't doing this for himself or for a title, but for the good of everyone.

"When Zelda comes back, will you go back to being her knight?"

The question, and idea itself, left a weird taste in your mouth. You weren't sure you liked the idea of being separated from Link. Even in such a short time, you'd enjoyed your adventures by his side. Maybe you could be a knight, too.

"If she asks, then yes. I'm still the Hylian Champion, so I suppose she'll appoint new champions for the beasts too and we'll prepare in case anything new happens." Link shrugged, tugging on Epona's reigns to veer her to the left. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I still need to do so much more before we get there." He pointed to the stable ahead, "Go check us in, I'm going to the shrine nearby. I ignored it last time I was here."

You nodded and pulled Taz away from Epona. They seemed to get along well, too, neighing and whinnying at each other while you and Link talked amongst yourselves.

You boarded him up and purchased two beds— soft, because Link made you paranoid about not getting another bed for a while— before grabbing some ingredients out of your satchel and throwing them in the pot. A prime meat and rice bowl sounded amazing right now.

You stirred all the ingredients into the pot and let it simmer for a while, sitting on one of the stools to let it cook. Link wasn't back.

Some time passes. You scoop the dinner into two bowls and place one on the stool beside you. You decided to wait a bit longer. Link still hadn't returned.

The sun slowly began to set. Your bowl was still full— your stomach was beginning to cramp from hunger and you had to eat soon. Link's dinner was cold. He was nowhere to be found.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing up so late?"

You opened your eyes, one brow lifted confusedly. You hadn't even noticed they were closed. "Just waiting on my friend. He's late."

"Well, it's very ungentleman-like to leave a lady waiting for so long. Say, I'll keep you company until then. The name's Eziel."

The owner of the voice pulled a stool beside you and you finally got a glimpse of him. He had short, dark hair and beady dark eyes, not super muscular but not super skinny either. Just an average guy, but there was something about him you just disliked.

Not your cup of tea, that's for sure.

"I'm okay, thanks though." Your words were short and pointed, trying to get across that Eziel was unwelcome.

"Ahhhh, c'mon Miss. I'm just trying to get to know you. What's your name?”

At this point, Eziel was nearly facing you entirely and he was leaned towards you, delicately reaching out a hand to try and touch your knee. You were ready to just knock his lights out, but you didn't want to cause issues and lose your beds.

"That is none of your business."

Link's voice appeared behind you and Eziel and you could have cried in relief. Eziel, however, didn't share the same sentiment and glared at Link.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And who are you? Her boyfriend?"

Eziel had stood up at this point, strutting over to Link with his chest puffed up in an attempt at intimidation. Link didn't speak, instead choosing to subtly rest his hand on the hilt of his sword. Eziel's eyes followed, and he laughed.

"Pathetic. I've got a sword too. What are you trying to do, battle over her?"

"If it means you'll leave her alone, then yes."

Link's hand was fully on the sword now, ready to pull it out at any moment. You stood up and rolled your eyes, getting annoyed at whatever this little spat was, before shoving Eziel out the way and standing in front of Link.

"Go away." You spoke slowly.

"No."

Right after he spoke, Eziel reached out to grab you. You blocked his arm and threw it to the side, countering with a punch that knocked him to the dirt. Eziel looked up at you with pure anger in his eyes.

"Leave us alone or else I'll do worse." You were tempted to spit on him for good measure, but didn't get the chance. Eziel rolled his eyes and stalked off, both his ego and cheekbone undoubtedly bruised.

You shook your shoulders to loosen up and turned back to Link with a grin on your face. His own face, however, showed the complete opposite.

Your smile fell. "What?"

"You could've gotten hurt."

"Nah," you brushed it off, "He was all talk. I knew I'd be able to take him. Now come on, I'll reheat your dinner-"

A hand grabbed your wrist. "You should've let me handle that. I'm supposed to protect you."

"Link. Did I not tell you when we first partnered up that I could protect myself?"

"You also said you'd stay out of trouble."

"Trouble is my middle name, I'm used to it. That's why I can handle it." You genuinely didn't understand why it was such a big deal, so you shrugged it off again and stoked the fire, putting Link's bowl back on it.

Link stayed quiet for a few minutes as you finished reheating his dinner, only speaking to thank you. You sat on the log beside him, watching the flames of the fire.

"I'm sorry for making it seem like I don't trust you to handle things." Link set the bowl down. "I just don't want anything to happen. I'm getting used to not being lonely anymore, I don't want that to happen again."

"I get it, really. I don't want anything to happen to you either. That's why I jumped in again at the end when that guy was trying to get physical. You've got a big mission to finish, you can't get laid out by some jerk at a stable."

Link laughed. "If you think he could take me out, I'm offended. I can't believe you think so lowly of me."

"I don't! It's a pride thing, too. It was my battle, so I wanted to finish it."

Link nodded in understanding. "Bed time?"

He stood up and held his hand out. You grabbed it and let him pull you up from the log, following Link into the Stable. You put your stuff down and got ready for bed, but couldn't help but glance out of the corner of your eye. Link stood in front of your bed with his back turned to you, arms crossed over the front.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, lowly enough for only him to hear.

"I just don't feel comfortable with both of us being off-guard with this guy still around."

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly at Link's protectiveness. "It'll be okay, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, we can take turns staying up tonight. Deal?"

Link looked at you for a moment, then sighed. "Deal."

[happyk44]

Jasico prompt for @butt-puncher based off this tweet

---

Leo peered over Jason's head. "Who's XghostkingX?" His chin came to rest on Jason's shoulder. "Sounds likely a freaky dude."

Jason swiped away the notification and kept watching the dog training video Piper sent with the caption "You" and a pink heart emoji. "Just this guy who sends me recipes." Jason frowned as the video ended and typed a quick rebuttal back at Piper that just because the dog was a golden retriever did not mean it was him. "I don't know him."

Leo's breath went hot against his cheek. "Then why," Leo said, drawing out the "I" sound for as long as his breath lasted. He rolled over, locking his head backwards over Jason's shoulder, face to the curling and finally inhaled. Coughing briefly, he continued, "is he DMing you?" Leo flicked his cheek. "What, he is a potential booty call?"

Jason scowled. "I don't do that, Leo."

"You should," Leo huffed. "I got pegged on Tuesday by a hottie boom-booty and her boyfriend. All with the sweet send of a "You down to clown?" meme."

Rolling his eyes, Jason shifted ever so slightly and grinned when Leo slid off his shoulder and crashed to the ground. "You give all aroace people a bad name."

From the ground, Leo swatted at Jason's ankles. "Just because I don't get the attraction part doesn't mean I don't know what good feels like. And there are some angles only the thick fingers of a college football player can hit, alright?'"

Jason snorted and opened up Instagram. He switched to the messages section and clicked the top one. A link to a recipe popped up. Above it were a thousand other recipe links. No messages, no words, no comments.

Just other people's posts.

Jason didn't know who this Nico guy was. It was spring break in his sophomore year of high school. His step-mom dragged them all out to some meditative retreat that banned all use of electronics. It was supposed to be some kind of spiritual cleanse. All Jason remembered was doing yoga, eating really bland meals, and Thalia sneaking out of their room through the window in the middle of the night and coming back six hours later smelling like weed and wearing someone else's bra.

She had a lot more fun than he did.

But when he finally got his phone back, he had twenty-three messages from XghostkingX, all recipe posts from different accounts. He checked out the account, trying to figure out who "Nico" was. But the account was private. He checked out the recipes too. They weren't weird. Seemed like completely normal recipes. Bread, pasta, Mexican dishes, Indian dishes, pastries, keto, high protein, vegeterian. Pretty much everything except Italian.

Which Jason found interesting. He wanted to ask about it but...

He turned and flashed a sprawled out Leo the messages. "They're just recipes. He started sending them to me when I was on that no-phones thing with my family."

Leo snatched the phone from him and begin scrolling at top speed. "Wasn't that, like, five years ago?" Jason shrugged. Leo stared at him unamused. "Seriously, man? And you haven't said anything?" He shook the phone. "You don't even know this guy!"

Jason reached for his phone but Leo rolled away, spring up to his feet. "Leo, give me my phone."

"Just one second," Leo said, very clearly typing something.

"Do not talk to him, Leo!" Jason shouted, shooting out of his chair and towards his best friend.

"I'm just gonna hit him up!" Leo yelled as he scrambled away on his gangly twig legs. "See what's up!"

Jason grabbed a pillow off his bed and hurled it at Leo through the doorway. Leo squawked loud, without dignity, as it beamed him in the back of the head and knocked him down. Darting through the doorway, Jason threw himself over Leo. All the air fwooshed out of his lungs.

Grunts and grounds filled the air as they wrestled for the phone. Leo curled inwards of himself. Jason rolled him over onto his back. Leo kicked at him. Grabbing at his legs, Jason pinned him down and started tugging at his arms. He ripped the phone of Leo's hands and sat on his chest in retaliation.

Leo spread his hands behind his head and fluttered his eyelashes, before wheezing, "Why, why Mr. Grace, you're so forward."

Jason shoved his foot in Leo's face. Leo shouted and slapped it away with spluttering indignation. "Fuck off and suffocate, Valdez." He turned to his phone. His heart exploded in his chest. Panic induced upwards his throat. "Oh my fucking gods, Leo." He shoved both his feet into Leo's face again, kicking at his jaw.

Ignoring Leo's protesting yells, Jason scanned the string of messages in the chat. The first one started off okay. Yo, who is this? Then they slowly began to deteriorate into complete nonsense. Probably as Jason and Leo were fighting over the phone.

Crap, crap, crap, he thought, as he began typing out apologies.

Sorry for that, it was my friend, he was wondering why you keep DMing me even though we don't know each other. He sent the text and closed out of the app before planting both feet beside Leos face and flaring down at him.

Jason bonked him again then twitched as his phone buzzed. The notification read XghostkingX sent you a message. Leo squirmed under Jason's weight. "Did he respond? Is he telling you why he keeps sending you messages? Is he hot?"

Leo batted his eyelashes Sweetly. Jason bonked him on the head with his phone. "I am going to eat you one day, Leo."

"I don't care what you do to me, so long as I get to come first," Leo said.

Jason swatted at him as he opened up the text.

Haha, no problem. I was wondering when you were going to say something. I'm Nico. Sorry for all the recipes. I was sick with the flu and couldn't remember how to save them to my notes app. I meant to send them to my sister, but I messed up on her username. I'm dyslexic. Powered through it but it does get worse when I can't think straight. Actually using speech to text right now. Filling in the punctuations after the fact. Anyway, you never said anything so I just kept saving there here to refer back to. Kind of easier than opening my notes app all the time to be honest.

Another text popped up. A picture this time. Followed by a series of more pictures. All of food. Jason recognized some of them from the recipes he'd clicked through out of curiosity. The plating was different. A little less professional, but they looked just as good as they had in the videos.

Some of the photos had a cute boy in the background. He presented the plates with a shy look on his face. His dark shaggy hair was pulled back in a few photos.

Some of my successes, the next message read.

Quickly Jason texted back, Is that you?

Yeah, Nico's reply read. My sister took them to send to my grandma in Venice. I usually just photograph the food. I have other pictures on my page. You can follow if you want.

Jason didn't hesitate before replying, Okay.

He clicked Nico's username and hit the follow button before waiting patiently. A second later the page opened up for him. Nico had a lot of pictures of food, dogs, paintings. There were few pictures of him as Jason scrolled mindlessly through his accounts. The ones that did feature him were always flocked by two other girls - one white and tall, with a braid tucked over her shoulder and fierce eyes, the other short and black with a wide smile, typically tucked under one of their arms.

Jason clicked on a picture of what looked to lasagna roll-up but much fancier and sent it to the chat. That looks good. I don't remember seeing a post for it.

That's my grandma's recipe, Nico typed back. It's a chicken cannelloni. Trade secret though. Can't give it to you. There was a brief lull before another message popped up. But I could make it for you, if you're interested. Make up for spamming you these last five years. Laughing face emoji.

Jason paused. Then, Does it travel well? Who knows if the USPS will keep it fresh.

My dad lives in the Bay Area, Nico replied with a laughing face emoji. And I'm here for the next couple months. Another brief pause while Jason's mind caught up with the air in his lungs. If you didn't want people to know where you lived, you shouldn't post pictures of yourself at university. Congrats on your win by the way.

A deep heat crossed Jason's face. So Nico had checked out his page? What did he think of the personality Jason exhibited through carefully selected photographs and captions? Did he think he was cool?

Beneath him Leo was still struggling and wheezing. Jason ignored him as he typed. I'd be creeped out, but that cannoli thing looks too good, so yeah, why not?

Nico's reply was a cute smiley emoji. Here's my number, he wrote. Call me when you wanna come over. Takes a while to make the pasta from scratch but I'm sure I can keep you entertained. Another smiling emoji.

Jason swallowed around his rising emotions. Sounds good. I'll let you know when I'm free.

A thumbs up and another smiley face.

Finally, he slid off of Leo's chest and landed on the hardwood floors. Leo inhaled dramatically then coughed rapidly before flipping over to his stomach. He groaned as he pushed himself up to his knees. Jason exited the chat.

"So, you getting that dick or what?" Leo drawled. Jason shoved him back as he laughed deliriously.

"Shut up." He pushed up to a stand and dragged Leo off the floor. "He's gonna make me one of his recipes."

"Ahh, dinner date."

Jason cuffed Leo's shoulder before wrapping him in a headlock. Leo laughed boisterously and didn't fight back. Instead he licked a long line down Jason's arm. Jason rolled his eyes and pinched his ear before letting him go.

"It's not a date." He smoothed down his shirt and began looking through his calendar. "He's just trying to make up for spamming me these last five years."

"Uh huh," Leo said, with a twinkle in his eyes that Jason sometimes loved and sometimes hated.

"Yeah, uh huh," Jason muttered back.

Another notification popped up. Without a second thought, Jason clicked it. A picture of a small cake with elaborate icing work and chocolate drips. Nico was in the background, crouched low so all you could see was his face, flour in his hair, a little bit of icing smeared on his cheek. He was smiling wide, eyes glancing up at the person taking the picture. Underneath the photo were the words, For dessert?

Jason hearted the photo immediately and wrote, Sounds good. It looks delicious.

Leo leaned over his shoulder. "He does look pretty delicious."

Jason swatted him away, cheeks burning. "Fuck off, Valdez." Leo cackled behind him before jogging back into Jason's bedroom. Jason turned back to the photo. Nico did look really nice. Messy in a cute way.

Maybe if Jason played his cards right, he could score more than a free dinner and a cute dessert.

[sikeydelic]

the meow meows playing minecraft :3

plus headcanons because i need to get this out of my brain:

-fyodor would only want to do speedruns or hardcore— he finds minecraft so boring without the challenge. he doesn't care about speedrun.net that much because, if he really wanted to be at the top of that list, he could probably bribe and hack his way in pretty easily. definitely the one out of the three who plays the most (total epic gamer). sometimes (usually because nikolai asks him to) fyodor will hack servers and cause chaos for a little bit before he gets banned (for, like, the 300th time). probably knows how to make super complicated redstone shit but he hardly ever does. favorite biomes: plains, deserts, warped forests

-nikolai causes destruction everywhere he goes. when playing on servers hes a griefer, and when he plays alone/with his friends he just tortures every mob imaginable. prefers to play in creative, and will fly/glide around exploding stuff. he sets villages on fire and watches all the villagers scream and run around in pain and then laughs really loud about it. makes pits of animals that are so densely packed they start dying. he also stretches the game to its limit, spawning in so much stuff that it completely glitches out. the kinda guy to make a huge wolf army also. can entertain himself with this for a little while, but eventually he gets bored and goes to do something else. favorite biomes: coral reefs, nether wastelands, plains

-sigma never plays, but sometimes fyodor and nikolai are playing and he thinks it might be fun. definitely the "what's (insert basic minecraft thing)" to fyodor's "you dont know (insert basic minecraft thing)??????" never got the game explained to him (fyodor and nikolai both immediately ran off to do their own thing) and kept dying over and over. everyone got annoyed at him asking "how do i sprint?" "guys wait why cant i get over this (jump)" "whats this weird green thing why is it hissing at me" "how do i craft an axe" etc. eventually he figured it out and became a builder, every time they played making really cute little houses. always has at least two dogs and one cat that he cares for a lot. probably builds a farm but then gets too attached to the animals to actually kill them. prefers to have long lasting saves in easy mode that he'll build cooler and cooler builds on. eventually tries to recreate the sky casino. uses aesthetic shaders and always has really nice looking skins. favorite biomes: lush caves, flower forests, taiga.

the chat would just be like

<NIKOLAIAIAI> EEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAA

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Getting an Upgrade]

<NIKOLAIAIAI> AHUVORNWH[BREOWJRBOEJRNBFNN[RVJEFF EKSN H

sigma1111 hit the ground too hard

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Acquire Hardware]

<sigma1111> im confusd what just happened\

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Diamonds!]

<NIKOLAIAIAI> dieded

<sigma1111> qwat

sigma1111 tried to swim in lava to escape zombie

XxDostovxX has made the achievement [Nether]

[xxcatzladyxx]

Demon Slayer Advent Calendar | Day 22 | Sanemi x Reader | Game Night

Written by me!

~~~

It was a peaceful evening. While the snow poured down dancing on the ground and covered everything in white, you sat inside with your fiancé and a few of his friends in the warmth of the Wind Pillar mansion. You had suggested having a game night. You were used to your family inviting friends and family over in the cold days of December and playing a few board games. So Sanemi invited 2 pillars, the trio and, with a heavy heart, his brother too. You had prepared small snacks, which the Flame Pillar almost single-handedly devoured. But you weren't angry about it. You didn't know Kyojuro any differently.

You were all sitting together at a big table. You thought the game 'Ludo' suited your fiancé Sanemi best. You weren't quite sure whether he understood the meaning of the game. There were eight of you and you split into four teams of two, as there were only four colors. Sanemi and you, Tengen and Kyojuro. Tanjiro and Genya. And Zenitsu and Inosuke.

Luck wasn't on your side today. Your players were thrown more than they came out of their shells. They didn't get much further than the first corner either. You put the blame on Sanemi. After all, he chose the cube. You couldn't see it, but a volcano was boiling inside you. You wrote a note to yourself that you would rip Sanemi's head off after the evening.

Sanemi naturally vented his anger. You had played countless rounds and you had always been the absolute losers. In all those rounds, you hadn't managed to get a single player to the finish line. You vowed to burn the game after that day and never touch one again in your life. Sanemi was furious. Your nerves were on edge.

You picked up the board and held it up to the face of the pillar of wind. His curses and insults fell silent. He looked back and forth between you and the board, confused.

"Can you read the name of the game...Sanemi?" you asked him, rather annoyed, and literally spat out his name.

"Don't get angry." was his curt reply.

"Aha, very nice that you can read...Then why are you doing the exact opposite?" You were on the verge of losing your nerve. "Sorry...", Sanemi said meekly.

A laugh rang out. Kyojuro couldn't help it. That drove Sanemi up the wall and your anger at Sanemi evaporated for the moment. "Yes, laugh as long as you can. Next time you'll be sick of it." That only made them laugh louder. You slammed the board down on the table and the pieces rolled off the tabletop and scattered to all corners of the room.

"Grrr." you growled, ruffling your hair. If there was one thing you hated, it was losing. You didn't want to tackle the others like that. But you were a bad loser. You just couldn't handle it. The others realized it was time to go and said goodbye to you until only Sanemi and you were left. You collected the pieces and angrily threw them back into the box where they belonged and banished the game to the back of a cupboard.

"I'm sorry. But it's just a game..." Sanemi began, but was interrupted by a death stare from you. He felt a chill run down his spine. He closed his mouth and thought it best to keep quiet before he regretted it. You were done with today and just wanted to go to bed. Like a dog, your fiancé followed you wherever you went. When he tried to set foot in the bedroom, you slapped his bedsheets at his feet.

"D- darling...?" You were visibly angry with him, but the fact that you wanted to ban him from the bedroom scared him a little.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight, my friend!" You pushed him out of the room and slammed the door in his face. You open it again for a second. "Oh, there's no sex either."

That hit him hard. Poor guy. He needed the sex to calm down again. With his head bent, he went to the couch and threw himself down on it, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't know this violent reaction from you. He didn't know what to do. Should he leave you alone for the night? Or should he dare to enter the lion's den? Should he or shouldn't he? Yes or no? These questions ran through his head the whole time until he finally fell asleep. So were you, until midnight.

Suddenly you wake up and reach for the sheet next to you. You pat it down. Sanemi wasn't there. Then you remembered the game night. You let your face fall into the pillow and sighed. The anger at the pillar of wind had vanished into thin air and you felt quite lonely in the futon. You wanted to be in Sanemi's arms. To feel his warmth. You struggled out of the sheets and trudged to the living room. You melted when you saw Sanemi. The blanket was more on the floor than on him, but he looked so cute when he slept. You didn't hesitate and sat on his hips. You opened his top completely and traced his scars with your fingers. You found him so sexy with his scarred body.

"What's it going to be when it's finished?" Sanemi's dark, rough voice snapped you out of your reverie.

"Um...make-up sex?" You kept stroking his chest with one finger and looked at him shyly. His look at that moment was golden. He looked at you in bewilderment. He hadn't expected that. It would be stupid of him to refuse. He grabbed your hips and spun you around.

"Do you think you deserve this?" he breathed into your ear. Pleasant goose bumps spread across your skin.

"Y-yes...?"

"Do you want it the soft way or the hard way?" He kissed along your neck and his hot breath made you flinch briefly. The question was pretty superfluous. Both you and he liked it a little rougher during sex. But he could also be gentle and tender. If you wanted to be. But you weren't the type for cuddly sex. You both suited each other very well in that respect.

You two had sex even though you two aren't married yet. That was only because Sanemi doesn't want to marry you until all the demons have been destroyed and you can live in peace. Basically, you're as good as married already. After all, you were living together and sleeping together. Sex was used for Sanemi to relax. Just like that night. So you both got over your bad mood and everything was peace, joy and harmony again.

[whumped-by-glitter]

The Morning Dasa's Life Began to Change

CW: institutionalized slavery, captivity, bondage

here is a very whumpy excerpt from chapter 2, it takes place the morning of Annika's birthday. I am working on edits still, so aspects may change slightly by the time I post the entire chapter.

word count: 2,066

The slave, who was only called dog, stood spread eagle in his master’s front yard, his arms and legs held taut, and outstretched between two pillars, bound by a force pulling at the bands on his wrists and ankles. two bars were slid through brackets, on both pillars, one at his throat, one at the back of his neck to deter any forward or backward slumping. His well-defined muscles were far past the point of screaming from lack of movement, His black, medium length hair was matted with days of sweat and grime. He'd lost count of how long he’d been out there, 3 days maybe? His master would show up three times a day to beat him and force him to eat. He was never starved for punishment, like the other slaves, because he was being trained to resist, properly identify, and neutralize poisons. Missing meals would mean missing doses, which could screw up any resistance he’d built up, which had taken almost 20 years to establish. He was only being held here, this time because a younger slave, referred to as boy, was stealing food. Dog had taken the blame, to protect the starving kid, who was banned from food because their master’s lazy son Balor was not pleased with how long it had taken Boy to buy more snacks.

The sun began to rise, and the people of the Fief had begun to move about. Some of the passers- by would look at him with pity. Others would poke fun at his predicament, or giggle. Some of the Arcturian children would throw stones or mud, from the gutters, at him. Dog was insensible and numb to all of this by now. For the Drar, such treatment was commonplace. He was an enslaved people.  The position Dog now found himself in was his master, Corvius’s, favorite punishment for him.

The Drar were a race that had incredible physical strength, and heightened senses, like wild animals. They were actually the only race of Balthia that did not possess any magic, in fact they were more sensitive to it being used on them, but their senses and strength more than made up for it. Even their eyes looked animalistic, amber yellow with slit pupils. They also boasted incredibly fast healing, however, dog unfortunately did not, likely due to the poisons he had to drink every day. Dog was also not as strong as other Drar probably for the same reason. He was stronger than the Istrians and definitely stronger than Arcturians though.

As the sun rose higher dog started to grow concerned. Master Atheris should have been outside by now. Did Corvius forget about him? Did Corvius decide to just leave him out here, and to start fresh, with one of the younger slaves? Doubts whirled through his head, which was bound to happen when he had nothing to do but think. It was like torture, to suddenly change a routine when he was in such a vulnerable position.

Finally, after hours, Boy appeared. Relief spread through Dog, followed immediately by confusion. Then Boy started to slide the bars out of their slots, which confused Dog and caused more than a little bit of panic to arise in him. “Wh-what are you doing?” dog asked, in hushed tones, his voice cracking a little, which betrayed concern for the younger slave.

“don’t worry, I’m on orders to get you cleaned up, I’m not helping you escape” Boy replied. He showed Dog Balor’s ring. Boy gave a wry smile when Dog sighed in relief. Boy released Dog's ankles. Then he released Dog’s wrists, first his right, causing dog’s body to slump back, onto Boy’s waiting shoulders. “Why do you do this to yourself?” Boy asked, “you would almost never be punished, if you weren’t constantly defending the rest of us” he said, releasing his other wrist, causing dog’s entire body to crumple and boy had to help him to the ground so he could recover for a moment. It was a relief to allow blood to start flowing back to his arms.

Dog shrugged in response “because, I know how much these suck, and it hurts me a lot worse than the actual treatment ever could to see someone else go through it.” He replied pensively, revealing what might be his biggest weakness, “besides, someone’s gotta look out for all of you. now shhh, you know we aren’t supposed to talk to each other”, talking, between slaves, was strongly discouraged not just by Corvius, but across the board.

Boy gave another wry smile as dog flexed, trying to restore blood flow to his stiff limbs, his muscles aching from prolonged disuse. Boy doubted their master had even realized how fitting the name “Dog” was. Dog was loyal to a fault, almost to the point of being stupid. As the oldest slave in the household, he always took it upon himself to look out for everyone else and protect them from Corvius and his lazy son Balor. The other slaves would sometimes jokingly call him Maso, short for masochist.

Once dog could at least stand, boy half dragged him into the bathhouse, to begin getting him cleaned up. Dog was dreading the cold water, when he realized it was warm. He had never once had a warm or even lukewarm bath. He closed his eyes and melted into it. It felt amazing on his still stiffened and somewhat atrophied muscles. Boy had to help him with his hair, as he still could barely lift his arms. To Dog’s surprise, Boy used real shampoo. This really started to concern dog, as normally, on the rare occasions they were allowed to bathe, it was cold water and only a bar of soap.

After he was cleaned up, Boy handed him a towel and brought in some clean clothes. He then carefully bandaged his still bleeding and thoroughly battered body. When dog started to dress, his concern grew, ‘what was going on?’ he thought. The fabric was soft and clean. The garments were new and had no holes at all. It was a simple black tunic and breeches, with red edging. Dog dressed quickly, not wanting to dawdle too long and get Boy in trouble.

A few minutes later Corvius waltzed in, followed by his portly son, who came waddling in after his father. Dog immediately knelt and bowed his head to the floor, a gesture of humble submission and obedience. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite lawn ornament” the old man sneered.

“And snack retriever!” Balor added dumbly, trying, and failing dismally, to parrot Corvius’s sneer.

Corvius walked around dog, assessing him, “that’ll have to do” he muttered before wrapping a blindfold over Dog’s eyes. Corvius was strictly averse to his slaves making eye contact, even by accident, with any free person.  It wasn’t uncommon for him to just blindfold them, when they were going to be around nobles. In fact, he had trained them, for a couple hours each evening, to function and even serve as usual, while blindfolded. It wasn’t unusual for slaves to wear lace coverings over their eyes, as the nobles found the Drar’s yellow, slit pupiled eyes, quite unsettling, however, Corvius took it to an extreme. “Get up, come with me dog” he ordered sharply, and dog rose, as gracefully as he could and followed obediently, sensing Boy’s eyes watching him intently, as he left the room.

He followed Corvius’s menacing tapping, as he’d put metal plates on the bottoms of his shoes to make himself more imposing. Dog wouldn’t need them to follow his master though, as the Drar have extremely good senses and their sense of smell is was keener than most wild animals. The same was true with hearing and sight, and Dog’s were even more developed from years of training. He could operate the same way, blindfolded or not.

The three of them got into a carriage. Once inside, dog took a spot on the floor, as he was not allowed to sit on the seats, as they were reserved for free persons. to Dog’s shock and surprise, Corvius, whose presence he could detect by scent alone, began to remove his bands one by one. The surprise must have registered on Dog's face, which was another taboo for slaves, because he received a painful prod from Balor with his ring, who sniggered wickedly. Dog dropped his face and resumed his usual void, neutral expression, once more. He fingered the skin around his neck, bands were put on the Drar from birth, so it always felt foreign not having one. ‘It isn’t time for resizing my bands, what is going on?’ He wished Master would tell him.

Then, one by one, they were replaced. However, these bands smelled different. They were of a different metal, gold. He began piecing together, bit by bit, what was going on at that point. Gold bands were strictly for slaves belonging to Royalty.

“hand” Corvius ordered coldly.

Dog obeyed and held out his hand, readying himself for the finger stick. It always made him jump a little for some reason, and attuning the stones was a little painful.

Corvius stabbed his finger hard with a needle. He then roughly squeezed out a drop of blood and pressed it to one ring until Dog let out a hiss, then repeated the process for a second ring.

These bands controlled the Drar’s whole lives. They were linked magically to a ring or rings their owners wore. The rings were simple with a small red stone on it. The stone was linked directly to a specific slave. The bands would cause immense pain if the slave even thought about disobeying, same with touching their own ring, and being too far away from their master. Any ring, the same status or higher could make the bands bind or unbind. This was to protect against rebellion. So, anyone with a gold ring had pseudo control over any slave. The Nobles, with their silver rings, had some command over silver and brass banded slaves. The commoners, with brass rings, only had control over brass banded slaves.

Although the bands only forced them to obey their master, they were still expected to obey everyone or face punishment. The only exception to this being if a command from someone else interfered with their master’s orders. It was a tough line to walk. Dog especially felt bad for brass bands, sometimes poorer communities would share slaves, to do work in the fields. The thought of having maybe a dozen owners made him shiver. However, he had often heard that they weren’t treated as badly, so maybe it wasn’t as awful. Dog had been a silver band. Silver and gold had to be always on point and were often used for entertainment, which often exposed them to more wanton cruelty. He himself had been used in a number of blood sports, which were referred to as “games”.

When the carriage stopped, Dog was ordered to exit. Before leaving, he was stopped by Balor, who placed gold irons on his wrists connected, behind his back, by a chain just long enough for him to reach about 6 inches in front of him, the same was done with his upper arms, but this chain was shorter, which kept his Upper arms at his sides. The two sets were connected vertically to prevent him from stepping over the chains and bringing his arms to the front, not that he would attempt it anyway. Dog was obedient to a self destructive degree.

Dog was led into what seemed to be a ballroom, based on the number of people and the amount of echoing that reverberated off the chamber’s walls. “Kneel, dog” Corvius growled, as he positioned him near the back of the room so that Corvius could go mingle with the rest of the nobility and elites. Dog obeyed, and gracefully took his place. He remained so still, that several women thought he was a manikin at first. That was another pet peeve of Corvius’s, excess fidgeting and swaying, even Dog's breathing had to be measured.

The sounds in the room suddenly changed, some kind of ceremony was beginning. Dasa’s chest tightened, he still didn’t fully understand what was going on and desperately hoped he wasn’t about to be entered in game, his body was still too stiff and sore.

taglist: @whumperofworlds, @3-2-whump, @wounds-seen-and-unseen, @aryox

Masterlist

[queeniecook]

June 19

Sometimes there's only so much pipe organ music a being can take.

James had just returned from his second walk around Forgotten Hollow for the day, the sound of the Count's haunting music was driving him insane. So far he had kept his mouth shut, rare for him, for some reason. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he's mind has been elsewhere. He's not making as much progress as he'd like in his quest to cure vampirism. It's aggravating him and Asa both, for different reasons. Liberty had finally indulged him in a martial romp, that increased his mood quite a bit, but nothing could make the constant sulking music better except for it to cease.

Count Straud sits in his normal place, at this favorite pipe organ. He likes the one in the basement too but this one is his favorite, he's had it since he moved into the estate and has it had maintained well over the countless years. Every since that vixen Lilith Vatore had found a way to ban him from her grounds, he's been in a dark mood. Darker than usual. He doesn't like being denied anything, especially something his undead heart actually desires. He hasn't seen her since that night, she's oddly been keeping to her home or visiting who knows who.

"May I have a word, Count Straud?" James beckons, actually using his manners. Vladislaus almost misses a key at the sudden request and cringes.

"Since you asked politely, very well." the ancient vampire responds, slowly rising from his seat after he finishes his song. He follows the warlock downstairs.

"What's eating you, Vlad?" James questions, not that he cares really but if it stops the music for a while, that would be a delight. 

"You people have such strange lingo sometimes..." Vladislaus grumples, nothing could "eat him" but after thought he figures out what James is actually asking him. "None of your business, warlock."

James smirks "Look, you have no friends. No one to talk to. I'm actually offering an captive ear to you, so you might as well just spill it."

"I rather spill your blood all over my rug instead." The Count bites back. 

James actually has a good chuckle at this, which annoys the vampire. "We both know magical blood is too tempting to just spill."

Vladislaus almost huffs at James laughing but keeps his composure in tact. "I'm not telling you anything."

James watches the vampire seated by him and then it hits him, he smirks again. "The spell on the Vatore estate is bugging you, Lilith has blocked you from her home and from getting into her pants." this earns him a glare from Vlad, which James enjoys. 

"How do you know about the spell?" The count asks, still glaring at the warlock. 

"I happened to catch it being cast." James replies, not naming Dakota though it's a bit obvious who did the spell. 

Vladislaus almost grinds his teeth together in anger. A little warning would have been nice but then again, why would James warn him? That would be odd.

Straud is tired of talking about himself, so he flips the conversation to James instead.

"Shouldn't you be off trying to steal the Vatore spawn or something?" He asks James, he sees a flicker of annoyance go across the warlocks face which makes Vladislaus feel accomplished. 

"Firstly, you can't steal something that hasn't been born yet and secondly, why does everyone thinks I'm going to do something to this kid?" James asks, rubbing his head in boredom more than annoyance now.

"Maybe because you hate Caleb and enjoy poking and prodding him when you get the chance?" the vampire supplies as an answer. 

"Fair point. I admit, I've enjoyed watching them get their little guard dogs in a row and get all ready to battle me if I try something." James says, running his fingers through his silky hair. 

Vladislaus nods, he knows if it were him, he'd enjoy it as well but something inside him wants to know if James is going to try something merely so he can warn Lilith. It's her nephew or niece they are talking about.

"They can have their little crying brat. My goal has been accomplished without really even doing anything." James comments before rising to leave. He's done with this conversation.