#mention of kidnapping

[selineram3421]

*giggles like a psycho*

First Day

Part 2

Part 1

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ children (lol), reader being a menace ☺, blood/gore, ALL CAPS Bold red Italics = SOUND AFFECTS, red italics= Alastor's thoughts, fake crying, food mention(desserts), mention of murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of torture, murder of test demon ⚠

You saw the school bus and it was filled with shouts and screeches of other demon children. Making sure you of the item in your pocket, you readied yourself to begin the plan.

Stage one: Have some control over the school bus.

The door opened and you hop up the steps, the screams even louder now that you were inside.

It was absolutely unhinged.

I can do better. You thought, taking a quick glance to find a seat.

"Hurry up and sit down brat.", the bus driver yelled.

"Quiet before I cut you open.", you said to them without missing a beat and walked towards the back of the bus.

You were calm as the other children were acting like drug addicts.

One was bold enough to try and trip you with their leg out. Looking at them, you see that they have a cocky grin.

"Can you please move your leg? Its in the way.", you ask.

"No. Just go over it.", they laughed.

With a shrug you do just that, they try and lift their leg up higher to trip you but you jump at the last second and aim for their knee.

SNAP

They scream like bloody murder as they cry, grabbing the attention of the other children. All eyes are on you and the broken leg that's spewing out blood.

"I did ask nicely.", you say before continuing on your way to the open seat in the back.

Finally, you arrive at the school and find your classroom, now you were standing next to the teacher as your new classmates make a mess with paper planes and other items.

"Everyone SHUT UP! This is the new student.", the teacher Ms. Mayberry introduces you to the class. "Go on and say hello, then take the empty seat over in the middle."

You nod and smile as you face the children.

"Don't cross me or you might end up like Mikey!", you say cheerfully and go sit down.

Stage two: Assert dominance and be kind to those who are kind to you. *weed out any snakes*

.

Alastor got ready to pick up his little demon.

I wonder if they had fun. He thought before leaving the hotel.

On his way over, he picked up some pastries from their favorite bakery. Now the Radio Demon was just a few feet away from the gate that had a few lingering children, that's where he saw his little one waiting with the teacher who was smoking.

They spotted him and lit up.

"Alastor!", they cheered before running up.

The teacher had backed up a bit after noticing who he was.

"Good afternoon mon petite!", he said and picked them up. "Did you have a good time? Hm? Were there any pests?"

"I took care of it! But all of them went home alive.", they replied as he began walking back to the hotel. "Bye Ms. Mayberry!", they waved to their teacher.

They had started to tell him what happened on the school bus as they got closer to the hotel, that is when the deer demon reminded them to look sad.

"I don't think I can keep a straight face but I can still cry like I'm sad.", the little demon said. "I know what to do."

They hid their face on his shoulder and started shaking their shoulders, making convincing sniffles and sobs.

Alastor opened the hotel doors, finding the princess and her partner, one of them holding a cupcake.

"Oh no, what happened?", Charlie asked after noticing the little demon's shaking shoulders.

"There was a bully that harassed them today.", he answered and made his way over to the stairs, lifting up the bakery box. "I've already bought them sweets to cheer them up but you can leave the cupcake for dessert after dinner."

Once in the hotel room, he sets them down and put the box of sweets on the small table near the door.

"Wash your hands before getting your sweets.", he says before helping them take off their school bag.

"Ok!", they nod and run over to the bathroom.

Taking the box, the demon in red snaps his fingers to conjure some plates on the coffee table. He sets up the table before putting the pastries on the plates. Making sure to get their favorite cup for their drink.

They went to their room before coming back out with no coat and taking a seat on the couch.

"Now, tell me all about your day.", he said giving them a plate with a slice of cranberry pomegranate curd tart. "What kind of drink would you like with your sweets?"

They ask for their favorite drink and proceed to tell him about what happened after the "tripping" incident.

The deer demon prepares a cup of coffee while getting their drink.

"Some of the kids tried to act tough and pick a fight with me during reeses. The supervisors don't care if there's a fight as long as no one gets killed.", they said before taking a bite of the tart. "I broke a lot of bones today.", they add.

"Don't speak while chewing dear.", Alastor hands them a napkin, placing their cup next to their plate before sitting down.

They go into detail of all the injuries they caused with a wide smile. Telling him that they want to learn more tactics of intimidation to scare some of the staff.

"Finish your homework and I'll take you out so you can have hands on experience.", he says and sips his coffee.

"Really!?", they ask excited.

"Of course! Its the best way to learn."

After dinner (and their desert), they headed out and found a demon to test on.

"The best way to intimidate someone is through fear. Give them something that will always remind others not to try anything. Breaking the boy's leg was good, but remember that it is on school grounds that you cannot kill.", he says as both of them watch the test demon scream as they are being taken apart limb by limb. "Of course you have my permission to kill anyone that tries to kill or kidnap you. Or other terrible things.."

"Can I torture them a little bit?", they ask.

"Yes, but don't let your guard down.", the Radio Demon says, using the tendrils to rip the test demon's head off. "Remember mon petite, prey can bite back."

On the way back to the hotel, he got them a new plush, a small mouse to attach to their school bag.

"Mr. Squeaks."

Tehe.

~Seline, the person.

Extra: Dessert image

Extra EXTRA: Art

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @roo-bi @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[gummybugg]

find the word tag!

tagged by @digitalsatyr23 here! havent done this tag in a bit, but i have more writing now so its not so difficult to find new words :'D

rules: find the words in your writing and paste a sample here

my words to find: wrong, find, dream, and cloud

(Wasn't sure if this post warrents a content warning, but it does reference suicidal ideation, dissociation, and kidnapping, so be aware.)

...

WRONG

(from my dormant wip the mice come out at night - morgana's pov/diary entry)

I was supposed to have died that day, I found myself thinking. But this thought wasn't out of scorn or hatred for the times I had made since then, it was a matter of fact. I didn't get what I had been promised, yet this time I wasn't so sure what I had expected at the time. Morgana then and now were two cherries separated at the stem. Our concept of what we thought we needed mirrored, the reflection a jarring contrast. "You must have the wrong guy," I found myself saying, cutting through my rampant thoughts. I highly doubted there was anything Vincent could be capable of lying to us about. Even if he decided to tell the others and not me, I was at least 99% certain Juniper would have spilled it by now.

FIND

(from my wip crater city - melony's pov)

Darcy looked down at his hands and the tears that fell into them. "I'm crying." He said, as if baffled by the phenomenon. His voice grew more distant, attempting to fade seamlessly into the background noise. "Look what you've made me do." "Darcy..." I began. "It feels warm and achy. But something is there. It's times like these that make me feel real. Feel human." "Darcy, you are human." "At this moment, I am. In the next few seconds, I won't be anymore. I hate it when emotions fade out of existence..." He sat at my desk with his face buried in his hands. It was customary for when his "mind checked out," as he used to say. "Your emotions don't go away. They're just hiding." He looked up at me with hollow eyes and a slack jaw. But they weren’t hollow because they were empty; they were hollow because they had yet to return. "They're just playing a game of hide and seek.” He grunted in agitated confusion. I sighed, picking up where I left off in the clutter. “Right now, sadness is 'it' and it's having a hard time finding the others. Hmm, I'd wager that anger is hiding in a prickly blackberry bush. Fear isn't always smart, so it's hiding clear-as-day behind a tree. Happiness is relaxing way up high in a tree..." I stood on my toes to prop the last textbook at the top of the shelf. The ridiculous analogy made Darcy chuckle. "It seems it found laughter first," I stuck out my tongue. Darcy came over to help, except my balance was a bit off and the book may have accidentally slipped from my fingers. It knocked him on the head before hitting the floor with a deafening belly flop. Instead of complaining about his head, his eyes lingered on the fallen book for a few extra seconds.

DREAM

Uhhhh none i think

CLOUD

(from my wip crater city - blair's pov)

I slapped the dented trunk of the sedan shut. The trunk was a briefcase from the show Steal or No Steal, and I was the pretty lady in red. But the look on Elijah’s face told me he was not fully convinced that this was the deal of a lifetime. He was starting to get on my nerves. He didn't know how to appreciate an offer of such high demand. It was honestly insulting. However, my TV show escapade was short-lived once I realized that he wasn’t going to let up. He was really upset, wasn't he? I could see it in his vacant stare: his soul had left his body. He took a step back, hands hovering cluelessly at his sides. “Uh, Elijah? What’s wrong, man?” I leaned against the creaky trunk, which snapped further shut, almost forfeiting my balance. It really needed more bungee cords, come to think if it. “This…this isn’t even one of the guys that harassed me.” “Come again?” Elijah was such a joker. “Blair…” The abstraction of my friend clutched my shoulders, causing the damp fabric to press into my skin. His hollow eyes sat constricted in their sockets, white about to burst in urgency. “It’s just some guy with green hair…” “Yeah, and…?” I raised a brow. Of course, he had green hair. What was he going on about? I saw a man with the same colored hair as one of the guys Elijah described, then I…wait, where did I even find this guy? I don’t even remember his face. And it would really be embarrassing to double-check by popping open the trunk. Had I really…? I searched the swirling green clouds for an answer. Then Elijah called my name and my wandering eyes found their way back to his.

...

gently tagging @asterhaze @ditzybitzyspider @forthesanityofsome @frostedlemonwriter @new-royston-cursebreakers and anyone else

rules: find the words in your writing and paste a sample here

your words to find: pull, back, away, and whenever

...

crater city mayhem taglist (dm to be added/removed): @writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23 @talesfromtheunknowable

[loquaciousscribe]

this is really obscure but could you possibly write for the angel and devil mascots from girls go games??? their doomed yuri subtext allures me, but i suck ass at writing:(

if you don’t that’s fine obviously! i know it’s a strange request.

my idea was for an angst if you want, maybe write angel’s confrontation with devil after they’re long(and i mean like they’re immortals type long) on and off but the kidnapping thing was the last straw and it made angel genuinely really uncomfortable(devil is kinda obsessive). and instead of just sending her to angel prison again they need to actually stay away from each other.

once again i know this is a long and weird request but i’m actually begging y’all here…..

me when i steal this ask so @somberauthor doesn't feel bad deleting it

GIRLS GO GAMES ANGEL X DEVIL MASCOTS CONFRONTATION(ANGST)

angel dreaded this. it was usually SO easy to push devil's shenanigans aside... but this was too much. the next time she see's her she oughta- thunk

that was the sound of devil 'breaking in' through the window that angel had left unlocked in case she decided to come here on her own.. and well she did...

far too soon. angel gulped a bit as she saw devil brushing herself off in an attempt to hide the fact that she came through the window(despite how obvious it was). angel didn't say anything about it, instead giving a warm yet uneasy smile.

"haii devil..! what an.. unexpected surprise!"

"you sure sound excited to see me" devil grins, she almost seemed proud of angel's hesitance.

"look devil.. we...we need to talk." angel says, deciding to just rip off the bandage and get it over with.

those simple words sent a shiver down devil's spine.. and not in a good way. she didn't want to confront any emotions, that just wasn't what demons did.. she thinks. any emotional thing was besides the point(for her at least), devil was frozen in place.

angel take's a deep breath "we... i can't keep doing this"

"doing what?" devil says nervously, mind buzzing with everything that she's ever done to get sent to angel prison.. that's just what devils do though. they cause mischief, she's doing everything right she thought. according to demon standards that is.

angel took a steadying breath, her wings fluttering lightly as she tried to find the right words. "Doing this… all of this" she gestured around the room, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "all of what?!" devil was starting to get angry at this point, but she tried her best to refrain from yelling.

"you kidnapped me, devil."

it was said so calmly, yet you could feel the fear and hurt in her voice. she hadn't been hurt physically during that venture but.. devil's heart was in her stomach. she didn't fully understand what was so bad about it, she'd left plenty of times before but this.. felt different. this shouldn't be different.

"i gave you cookies!!" she tried to defend. it could have been a fun outing had angel gone consentually. sure it was alright but.. "you kidnapped me. do you know how violating that is??"

"..so what, you're gonna put me in angel prison again??"

Angel shook her head slowly, her gaze softening even as the pain in her eyes deepened. "No, Devil, I'm not going to send you to Angel prison again. This... this isn’t about punishment. It’s about something more serious."

Devil’s frustration flared, she crossed her arms, struggling to understand. "Then what? Why are you doing this? We always get through things, Angel. This isn’t any different!"

"It is different!" Angel’s voice trembled, her wings twitching as she fought to keep her composure. "You don’t understand, Devil. You’ve crossed a line that you can’t just charm your way back over. You took me against my will. You thought it was just another game, but it wasn’t. It was terrifying. I felt helpless-" "c'mon it wasn't THAT bad, i mean i-" "and it made me realize something… something that I’ve been avoiding for a long time."

Devil’s face dropped as Angel’s words sank in. The room seemed to grow heavier with unspoken truths and regrets.

Angel took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "i’ve been avoiding the truth for so long. This... this friendship, it’s unhealthy. It's always been unhealthy. but the kidnapping... it was the last straw. It made me see that we’re trapped in a cycle that’s tearing us both apart and i just can't ignore that anymore..."

devil’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and hurt flickering across her features. "you think I’m... what? toxic? Is that what you’re saying? i'm a demon."

Angel nodded slowly, her wings drooping as if carrying an unbearable weight. "I’m saying that we both need to face the truth. we keep falling back into this destructive pattern, and it’s not fair to either of us. i can’t keep pretending that everything will magically get better. It won’t."

Devil’s eyes narrowed, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her composure. "So what now? You just want to cut me out of your life completely? Is that it?" she said that a lot more aggressively than she had meant to. she couldn't stand the thought of losing devil and she couldn't place entirely why... she shouldn't care this much.

"not completely.." angel mumbles "we just need.. a break. a long long break"

"so like.. a month?"

"longer.."

"a year?"

"longer......"

"HOW LONG?!" devil nearly screams

angel raises her voice, which she rarely does "I DON'T KNOW! LONG ENOUGH TO- TO GET YOUR POOP TOGETHER!!"

devil stares a her for a second, and angel is a bit worried she might get violent

"sorry just- please - please just go"

"okay."

"please just lea- oh.."

"i'm going."

devil turns to leave, hoping deep down that angel stops her from leaving.. but she doesn't.

and devil leaves. planning on being petty and seeing how long it takes angel to come crawling back.. but she doesn't

and devil has a lot of time to think.

honestly this request is so real tbh, hopefully i did it justice.

i didn't know wether to use devils or demons pls don't come for me

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 90: July 2017

Gerry cups a hand over the end of his cigarette and flicks the lighter a couple times. He’s just about managed to get it started when he feels rather than hears a vehicle pull up alongside him and a low, sharp whistle.

Sighing, he shakes the cigarette out and tucks it back into his coat. “Figures.”

He turns away from the gate of the cemetery to see Detective Tonner—Daisy—staring fixedly out the front windscreen of an incredibly battered Breekon and Hope delivery van. Basira leans around her and raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything, just jerks her head backwards. Gerry takes the hint, goes around to the back, and wrenches one of the doors open, then pulls himself in.

“No,” Martin says immediately.

Gerry ignores him and slams the door shut. There are no seats back here—it’s a cargo van, after all—so he just plops himself down on the floor between Melanie and the doors. “Okay, go,” he calls up to the front.

He half expects Daisy to peel out of there like a bat out of hell, but instead, she moves away from the curb at a remarkably sedate pace. Gerry reaches up to make sure the locks are engaged just the same.

“Gerry,” Martin says.

“Martin,” Gerry mimics. Martin’s eyebrows draw together. “Don’t look at me like that. You didn’t actually think I was going to let you two go off on your own, did you?”

Melanie scowls at him. “Yes.”

“It’s like the biggest Leitner we’ve ever burned,” Gerry says, repeating what he said on the tape last night. “You need me there.”

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Jon looks up at Martin. “If it helps, I told him he could come when I still thought I was in charge of this operation.”

Basira looks over her shoulder. “You never thought you were in charge of this operation. Even when you thought you were still the Archivist, you kept saying we couldn’t make plans until Martin got back.”

Martin laces his fingers through Jon’s. He seems to be struggling to stay angry. Gerry decides to finish him off with something he can’t argue against. “I promised Tim.”

“Well…fuck.” Martin sighs and deflates. “If we’re not going to be able to make you stay back—”

“You’re not.”

“Then I suppose my options are to stay mad at you and make this drive unpleasant for all of us, or let it go, and I don’t hate anybody else in this van that much, so. Fine.” Martin huffs. “You’re not technically a member of the Archives staff, so it’s not like I can order you to stay back, and you’re my big brother, so it’s not like I can tell you what to do.”

“Never stopped you before,” Melanie mutters.

“Yeah, but when have either of you ever listened to me when I said to stay out of something?”

“We’ve listened to you plenty of times!”

“Oh, yeah? Name six.” Martin folds his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

Melanie’s cheeks turn red, and she mimics his pose, but doesn’t answer.

They ride in silence for a while—not exactly a comfortable one, but not exactly an uncomfortable one either. Gerry watches the sky gradually lightening, sort of, and wonders what the weather is going to be like in Great Yarmouth, if they’re going to have to immediately go in or stake the place out for a while, if he can really protect all of them. If he can keep his promise to Tim.

After a bit, he becomes aware of someone humming, just barely audible over the rattling of the van. He frowns and focuses, trying to catch the song. The name is just on the outside of his knowledge, so he starts humming along, hoping the words will catch up to him before long.

Martin’s head suddenly snaps to attention. “Not that one.”

Gerry blinks and the song flees from his consciousness. “Huh?”

Melanie suddenly comes to herself. “Oh—Jesus, sorry, just—don’t even know why that’s in my head, honestly. You pick something, then.”

“Wait, no, what was that?” Gerry insists. “I couldn’t come up with it, I don’t think it’s one of our usual—”

“No, it’s ‘Guinness for Two.’ You know, the one we usually sing at the pub when someone…stops coming.” Melanie hunches her shoulders and looks down at her knees. “Last time we sang it was…”

“Evan,” Martin completes.

Gerry remembers it now, even if he wasn’t there for Evan’s farewell. “Oh. Yeah, no, not that one.”

Jon looks from one to the other. “I’d like to hear it sometime.”

“Sure, Jon, but not when we’re going into something dangerous, okay?” Martin says gently. “Let’s save it for wh—if we really need it.”

The temperature in the truck drops several degrees—even Gerry can feel it. They all know it’s a matter of when, not if. Someday, probably sooner rather than later, they’re going to run across something that at least one of them won’t walk away from. They’ve been lucky so far, but realistically, how long can that hold? Especially since the Eye’s ritual is still coming up. The other Fears aren’t going to want it to succeed before they get the chance to try again—they’ve probably assumed that’s why Gertrude, and now Martin and his team, have been fighting them—and they’re going to attack the Archives to prevent that. Sooner or later, someone isn’t going to come back.

To keep them from dwelling on it, he launches into “The Shannon and the Chesapeake,” which has never been much use as a burning shanty but at least is more cheerful than a mourning song. Martin and Melanie join in before he’s gone more than a line into the song, as they usually do, and Jon leans against Martin and seems to relax. Seems being the operative word. Gerry doesn’t think any of them are particularly relaxed, but at least they’re not as tense.

They get to Great Yarmouth about an hour after sunrise, nominally. A cluttery spell has set in and it’s been raining off and on for the last hour, which puts Martin on edge for reasons Gerry isn’t quite ready to ask about. Daisy parks the van what she says is about a block from the bed and breakfast they’ve been booked into, and she and Gerry get out to scout the area before they let the others out. It seems safe enough, but Melanie stiffens and grabs Martin’s arm the second her feet are on solid ground.

“It’s there,” she murmurs, jerking her head in a direction that could imply the building next to them and could imply the street they’re about to cross. “The middle building on this street. I didn’t realize we were going to be that close to the House of Wax.”

“Back in the van,” Daisy orders, her voice low and sharp. “We’re coming at this from the other direction.”

Nobody argues with her, and she makes a wide circle before parking two blocks further down. Both Jon and Martin make the same sound of exasperated annoyance when they discover that they’ve been booked into a place called The Hive, but Martin handles the checking-in with his usual intentionally awkward charm and they go up to the rooms they’ve been assigned. There are two of them, and one only has one bed, but since Gerry doesn’t plan to sleep until he’s home and with Tim—he’s not ready for Martin to be around him during a flashback yet—he doesn’t mind. They convene in the other room so that there’s at least more room for them to sit while they plan out their final strategy. Gerry opts to stand with his back to the door, watching the others; Daisy opts to pace the room, occasionally glaring at the knickknacks and flourishes put around the place to make it seem rustic and homey.

Finally, Jon says in what’s obviously an attempt at humor, “So, straightforward frontal assault, then?”

Martin laughs, but shakes his head. “As I see it, we’ve got two options. Either we sneak in pretending to be, uh, participants in the dance and hope there’s not security at the door, or we find a back way in. Whichever one we do, we’ll need to stake the place out first, make sure it’s, you know, safe to go in. Ideally, we’d like them to be distracted enough by the preparations to not notice us going in but not so far along in the preparations that we don’t have time to get set up before they start.”

“Why not?” Basira argues, logically enough, Gerry thinks. “Even if they start before we’re finished, we can still get out and blow it, and that way we’d know the timing was good, right?”

She looks to Daisy for support, but Daisy simply looks to Martin without speaking. Martin meets her eyes, and there’s a flash of—something—between them. Gerry hesitates to call it respect, but—no, that’s exactly what it is. Not the kind of respect his mother and Aunt Lily always insisted upon, the worship the ground I walk on kind, but the mutual understanding and acknowledgment of skills and intentions, the look of one leader to another. They’re more or less on an equal footing, but in that look, Gerry understands that Daisy is ceding control of this operation to Martin.

For now, anyway.

“We can’t be in the building when the Unknowing gets underway,” Martin says, returning his gaze to the room at large after no more than a second’s pause. His tone is deadly serious. “It’s too big of a risk. We’re pretty sure they have the calliope—they probably took it when they delivered the table, nobody’s seen them since and Rosie let them directly into Artifact Storage—and from all the statements we’ve heard about it, it whips people into a frenzy, even ones who haven’t already been Touched by the Stranger. Between the draw of the music and the fact that we’re all in some way touched by the Eye, the chance of us…opening a door and waltzing into the middle of it because we want to know what’s going on, it’s too high. Our best bet is to get in, set the charges while they’re still…um, warming up…and get our asses out of there. What’s the range on that detonator?”

“Not great,” Daisy says. “Good enough, though. Based on the plans Basira found, that spot where I parked earlier is about the extreme limit of where we can stand and be sure a charge on the opposite corner goes, and I wouldn’t trust it. Probably need to be right across the street.”

Martin nods. “We’ll—I’ll need to watch it burn, anyway.”

“We’ll need to watch it burn,” Jon says firmly. “You were right the first time.”

Basira doesn’t look convinced. “How will you know it’s the right time to blow it if we aren’t there when it starts?”

Martin looks at Melanie. Slowly, identical grins curl across their faces, equal parts mischievous and satisfied. Gerry feels the same smile spread across his own face as he realizes what it is they’re thinking.

Turning back to Basira, still grinning, Martin says, “Leave that to us.”

Basira still looks unimpressed, but moves on. “Fine. So we need to stake the place out, then.”

“I’ll do that,” Gerry says. “They’re not like you, Martin, they can’t sense all the little Marks underneath, just the big ones, so they won’t peg me as having the Eye or the Buried. All they’re going to see is an Avatar of Terminus watching the building, and really, what’s suspicious about that? The Unknowing is meant to consume lives, sacrifices, so it’s no surprise I’d turn up to watch, maybe catch some of the, uh, spillover. And if I’m not supposed to know what’s going on…” He spreads out his hands, palms up. “You four are Marked by the Eye too deeply to escape attention, and they’d definitely be suspicious of a Hunter lurking nearby.”

“If they sense me,” Daisy growls.

“They will,” Martin says quietly. Static gathers, very faintly, and his eyes seem to glow dimly. “What’s the fun in Hunting something that doesn’t know it’s prey? Even if you’re being stealthy, anything you’re after will know, and on a night like this, the Stranger will take no chances.” He blinks and shakes his head minutely, and the static dies off abruptly. In a more normal tone, he continues, “Gerry’s right. If anyone’s going to escape attention while still figuring out what’s going on, it’s going to be him.” He looks up at Gerry. “‘William Taylor’ for the front door, ‘Golden Vanity’ for the back?”

“And ‘Hanging Johnny’ if we’re going through the roof.” Gerry holds up his cell phone. “See you soon.”

Leaving Martin and Melanie to explain what the hell they mean by that, he slips out the door.

It’s drizzling, which helps, both in keeping people away and in keeping him from being conspicuous; while this is a tourist town, luckily, since the House of Wax closed, it seems most of the activity is focused further down the beach, closer to the pier. Gerry finds a convenient light pole, leans against it, and relights his cigarette, then positions himself so he’s able to watch the House of Wax without it being obvious that he’s watching it. He doesn’t feel the cold right now, or more accurately he’s just cold all the time; it’s been too long since he’s…fed, for lack of a better term, and he’s closer to death than life. The raindrops practically sizzle when they hit his bare skin. And he waits.

A pattern quickly emerges. A Breekon and Hope van—not the one they came in, a bit older model—pulls up in front of the House of Wax, disgorges a dozen or so passengers at a time, some carrying objects, and then drives away, only to return some time later and disgorge more. It’s definitely the same van; there’s a rather distinctive dent on the front fender. Gerry briefly toys with the idea of Daisy driving them around and them pretending to be part of the chorus, but that thought is dashed instantly when he sees the sort of…things…that are getting out of the van. No way will they pass for Strangers.

After a while, he takes a slow walk around the block and confirms that the only entrances are on the front, then resumes his previous position. Once he’s sure the coast is clear, he calls Martin, then quickly tucks the phone under the collar of his coat so that no one passing by can see he’s using it. Still staring vacantly in the direction of the House of Wax, he begins whistling “Hanging Johnny.”

A few minutes later, he hears a familiar hissing noise from behind him. Without taking his eyes off the building, he reaches up to disconnect the call, then murmurs, “Fire escape on the southwest corner. I’ll meet you there.”

Gerry senses rather than sees the group scuttle past him. He’s just about done when the Breekon and Hope van returns and disgorges another wave of…things. This time, though, two nondescript figures get out of the front as well and move around to the back. There’s something about them that ticks an itch in Gerry’s brain, but he can’t think what it is until they open the back of the van again and pull out an object. At first he thinks it’s just a box, but then he hears the faint humming and sees that they’re toting a coffin. A flashback, or a memory of a flashback, slams him between the eyes—two men depositing a casket into a stone vault, a van that kept driving past—and he realizes that they were the pallbearers at Uncle Roger’s funeral.

He decides not to mention that to Melanie. Yet. Instead he waits until they’ve gone into the House of Wax, then flicks his cigarette into the rain-washed gutter and slopes off to meet the others.

The fire escape is little more than a rusted ladder nailed to the wall, and Gerry finds himself wondering how many fires it’s purportedly withstood. Martin is on the bottom rung, Daisy near the top, the others staggered along it. Gerry wonders what they’re doing for a moment until he sees Jon, arm trembling with the effort, swing a heavy case up over his head for Melanie to grab. She manages to heft it up to Basira, who swings it to Daisy, who hangs for a moment and then half-throws it onto the roof. Thankfully, Gerry can’t hear a noise from where he is, so he doubts it’ll be heard inside either. As soon as Daisy, with some difficulty owing to the fact that the ladder doesn’t go all the way up, follows the case onto the rooftop and there’s room on the ladder, he steps on himself.

There’s a panel that might be a missing skylight and might be a damaged trapdoor and might just be a broken bit of roof, but whatever it is, there’s enough room for them to shin down into a low-ceilinged attic. There are a number of sagging cardboard boxes, of the sort Gerry remembers seeing in the Archives, which are therefore likely full of paperwork from when the museum was open. Daisy looks around, then pronounces in a low voice, “Structurally insignificant. No need to waste explosives in here. Let’s go.”

Melanie finds the door leading out of the attic, and they get to work.

It’s…easier than it should be, easy enough that it makes Gerry suspicious and jumpy. They’ve identified a few key rooms from the plans Basira found—Tim’s right, it is three buildings knocked together—and are able to make their way around them. Mostly it involves peering into halls to make sure no one is lurking, then darting to the next room and keeping watch while Daisy molds plastic explosives around girders and studs. She’s remarkably efficient, it has to be admitted. Gerry’s getting twitchy, though, and he can only imagine how the others feel. Still, none of them have those terrible black marks—yet—so he’s cautiously optimistic, even though he knows enough not to be completely relaxed.

After all, he only sees the blackness if they have a chance of surviving.

Finally, they’re ready to hit up the last room on their list, the one that will, if all goes according to plan, collapse in such a way that it draws the rest of the collapse into itself. Gerry admittedly doesn’t understand it, but he reckons he doesn’t have to as long as Daisy does. Melanie leads the way down the hall, peeks into the room, and jumps back. Gerry is at her side in an instant, but she’s already recovered and looked in again. She rolls her eyes at him, looking annoyed at her own momentary fear. “It’s fine. No one’s in there,” she whispers, signaling the all-clear to the others.

The room is…unsettling. Probably it’s to do with what’s in it. The room itself is on the largish side, obviously some sort of warehouse, with nothing but a single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling to illuminate the space. It’s a central room, so no windows; that one bulb is all the light they get. And what it illuminates appears, at first, to be a crowd of people—probably why Melanie jumped back—but on closer inspection, it’s clear. These are nothing but waxworks.

Bad ones, but still waxworks. They stand in loose rows and clusters, some slumped to one side, others straight and rigid, their expressions fixed and frozen and, well, uncanny. Gerry hates this room on sight and hopes Daisy has a lot of explosives to use in it. He stands aside to let the others in.

Martin is the last to enter, and he’s tense and uncomfortable, his breathing shallow. Gerry figures he’s got the same feeling that it’s too easy that he does, until he narrows his eyes at something just overhead. “Cobwebs. Great.”

Jon looks up nervously. Basira folds her arms over her chest and stands to one side. “Doesn’t that mean the spiders are long gone?”

“If they were regular spiders, yes. But the Web tends to…linger. I think the Mother of Puppets thinks the dust-filled variety are—well, spookier. Even if they’re not as good as catching flies.” Martin’s eyes dart around the room, obviously looking for more spiders. His left hand creeps towards his face.

Jon grabs it and yanks it back down. “No. Not here. Not now. If—if things go bad, you’ll need your strength.”

Martin laces his fingers through Jon’s and squeezes, a faint, sad smile on his face. Melanie looks around. “This is it, yeah?”

“Yep. We plant the last of the explosives here, this whole place goes up nice.” Daisy sounds slightly distracted as she prowls the room.

Basira looks around. “It’s too quiet.”

Jon swallows. “Could be a trap.”

“And? If it is, I give this a squeeze…” Daisy holds up the detonator. “No more trap.”

“And no more us,” Basira points out. Daisy grunts, but puts the detonator back in her pocket and goes back to looking around the room.

“Hey, it’s not like we’re alone in here,” Melanie says, with a false brightness in her voice. She flicks the arm of a mannequin next to her. “Look, it’s Prince Charles!”

“If he’s been zapped with force lightning, maybe,” Gerry says. In response to Martin’s odd look, he adds, “Tim made me watch the prequels with him.”

“That your relationship survived that is a sign that you’re far stronger than I am,” Jon says dryly.

Melanie moves over to another cluster of mannequins. “Ooh, score, the Beatles! You know, if they’d all been in separate accidents. Like if Ringo was in a fire, or Paul was in a car accident, that’s a classic…”

“Yes, Melanie, I get it, the waxworks are bad,” Martin says, a bit testily. His eyes are closed and he’s massaging his temple with his free hand. “Just…keep an eye on them, and if they start moving…”

“Hit them until they stop?”

“Yeah, basically.” Martin sighs heavily and opens his eyes again, looking around. “Christ, this is so much worse being able to see clearly.”

The room goes deathly still. Actually, Gerry knows something about the stillness of death, and he’s pretty sure that still moves more than this. Even the cobwebs seem frozen in place. Jon’s and Melanie’s faces are identical moues of horror, and as he watches, the same emotion rises, simultaneously, in both of their eyes.

Rage.

“Whoa, there.” Gerry lunges with a speed he hasn’t realized he’s still capable of and grabs Melanie’s arm. “Easy, cowgirl.”

Melanie when she’s angry, truly angry, because someone hurt one of her brothers has always been a sight to behold, but now it’s practically incandescent. Gerry stands his ground, barely, and hopes she remembers that he’s her brother before she focuses too much on the fact that he’s restraining her.

“This is where they held you,” Jon says in a choked-off, barely restrained voice. He looks around the room. “This is where they—”

“Yeah.” Martin tugs Jon closer and wraps his arms around him; Jon struggles for a second before giving up or giving in, Gerry’s not sure. “Don’t. Either of you. Just…we can blow the place to bits, but if you start going berserk in here then someone will hear us, and we can’t risk that. Please.”

Jon slumps and goes limp in Martin’s embrace, resting his head against his chest. “I just…I hate knowing you were hurt,” he confesses in a near whisper. “I hate that you were here and—that I couldn’t do anything for you.”

“I know.” Martin kisses the top of his head. “We’ll get back at the place. Don’t worry. But let’s do it the right way, yeah?”

Gerry slowly lets go of Melanie’s arm once it’s clear she’s not going to attack anything either. She gives him a look, then moves closer to Martin and Jon without actually stepping into his embrace all the way.

They wait in silence for a while. Long enough for Gerry to start getting nervous. Something about this room…something more than the fact that it was Martin’s prison cell…is getting to him. He looks around, then back at Daisy. “How much longer?”

“I don’t know,” Daisy replies.

“The others didn’t take this long.”

“The others had obvious structural weaknesses. This one doesn’t.”

“How hard is it to blow up a fucking building with all this stuff?” Melanie hisses.

Daisy stops and glares at her. “It depends. Lots of other buildings around here and I was told to be careful.”

Melanie grumbles under her breath. Basira ignores her, or tries to redirect everyone’s attention to the mannequin to her left. “So, would you say this is supposed to be Churchill or Alfred Hitchcock?”

“Jowls like that, could be either,” Jon says, frowning at it a bit. “I mean, the suit isn’t exactly period, but…”

“It could be Albert Finney, it’s so warped,” Melanie says. She eyes a door warily. “What’s through there?”

“Workroom,” Martin says softly. “But they’ve knocked out most of the middle of the buildings, I think, to make a big sort of…auditorium, I guess. Or theater, maybe.”

“How big?” Basira asks.

“I don’t know. Big. And I’m not risking finding out. Drawing on the Eye hurt in here, and I might be stronger now, but that doesn’t mean I want to risk calling attention to us this close to preparations for the Unknowing.”

“It’s just that it’s not a very big building.”

“Look, today was the first time I saw it from the outside, okay? All I can tell you is what I remember from being here.”

“You’re sure it’s the right place?” Basira presses.

Melanie scowls at her. “I am.”

“It’s definitely where they kept me.” Martin takes a few steps, Jon trailing after him, and then bends down to pick something up. He shows it to the others—a length of cloth with a pair of knots in it, one larger than the other, and a frayed slice through part of it. Bile rises in Gerry’s throat as he realizes it’s the remains of a gag. “I don’t remember this many waxworks, but I had my glasses off most of the time, so…”

“All right,” Basira says, clearly not convinced. “Just don’t want to get this far only to find out we’re in—”

A new sound fills the room, faint but distinct. Gerry’s only heard the song, such as it is, a few times, but the feeling it invokes is one he’s only felt once before, in Chicago—a sensation that intensified his headaches even as it made him want to get out of the hotel room and follow it.

It’s the chords of a calliope organ.

Martin swallows, and it seems to be taking everything he has to keep still. “This is the place.”

“We should look,” Melanie insists, staring at the door. “See what’s in there, what’s going on.”

“No. Absolutely not. No,” Martin says, shaking his head firmly. “There is nothing in there we need to see, and we’re almost done…” He hesitates and looks over at Daisy. “Right?”

“Just about.” Daisy hesitates, too, and looks back at him. For the first time, Gerry sees uncertainty in her eyes. “This going to be enough?”

“You…might want to use all of it. Just to be safe. If they’re hollowing the place out…” Martin doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.

Daisy’s eyes darken. “Right. Give me a minute.”

Something about one of the waxworks catches Gerry’s attention, just for a second, and he turns to study it more closely. He’s not entirely sure who it’s supposed to be, or why it caught his attention, but something is drawing him in. He can only see its profile, though, but…

“Jesus!” Basira suddenly hisses.

Daisy whips her head around. “What?”

Basira is staring at the same mannequin as Gerry. “It moved.”

She can see its face. Gerry circles around as Martin says, “Okay if they’re starting to—we need to go.”

“No, just for a second, like a—a flicker,” Basira says, still staring intently at it. “Something in its eyes.”

“If the waxworks are coming alive, we need to go,” Martin insists.

Gerry isn’t listening. He steps past Basira and looks the waxwork in the eyes. They should be nothing but, well, molded wax and paint, but as soon as he gets close enough—she’s right, they flicker, and move, and lock onto his. They’re real—actual eyes, full of pain and fear and something else, something—

Oh. Oh, God.

“No,” he says softly.

“No?” Martin repeats.

Gerry ignores him. Horror and anger and pity all mingle in his chest at once as he looks into the eyes that stare back at him desperately. He can see the lips struggling to part, the hands struggling to move, but everything is immobilized except for those eyes, and…

I can’t leave him like this.

“Gerry,” Martin says sharply, but Gerry almost can’t hear him. White noise, not static but something like the wind of a blizzard, fills his ears and the space around him. He reaches out and puts a hand on either side of the waxwork temples. The wax crackles, seeming to suddenly contract as his fingers make contact. He reaches for a power he’s only consciously touched once before, the connection to his patron, and Terminus responds.

“Return to the dust from which you came,” he says, and his voice seems to echo slightly, almost to ring. “Return to the wind and the water and the earth. Return to the sky and the stars. Unloose your bonds and be set free. Go, and shed no tear.”

Something flows through the wax into his fingers, not black this time but pure white, and travels up his arms to his chest, then seems to explode throughout his body. For just a moment, he sees a flash of something new in the eyes before him.

Relief. Gratitude. Peace.

Then the eyes go blank and glassy. The white noise fades away into nothing. Gerry takes a deep breath and steps back, letting his arms slowly lower until they rest by his side. For a long moment, there is nothing but silence.

Melanie finally breaks it. “What. The fuck. Was that.”

A small twinge of guilt strikes Gerry—he tries not to feed in front of his siblings, and that was…unusual. He starts to turn to Melanie, to apologize, when Daisy steps back from a girder. “Done.”

Martin visibly shakes himself. “Right. It’s going to be starting soon. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

He grabs Melanie with one hand and Jon with the other. Basira, Daisy, and Gerry all move under their own power—Gerry makes sure to go last—and they head for the exit. Martin doesn’t bother with the roof. Evidently he thinks that everyone is going to be distracted enough they can get out one of the main entrances without being noticed.

He’s right, even if Daisy does have to pass Jon, who’s closest, the detonator and throw herself, shoulder first, at one of the barricaded side doors to get them out quickly.

It��s still drizzling. Gerry doesn’t even consider that it might cause them problems. A little fall of rain won’t stop this, he thinks, slightly dizzy with relief. It’s also darker than he might have expected, which either means a heavier rain is coming or they were in longer than he thought and night is coming, but either way, it doesn’t really matter. They make it across the street and a little ways up the block, and then Daisy stops. “No further. Any more than this and we won’t get all the charges.”

Basira doesn’t look happy. “I still say we won’t get the timing right this far away.”

“We will,” Martin says simply. His eyes rove over the group, as if mentally counting all of them, and if they linger on Gerry for a bit, well, that’s what he deserves, really.

Jon looks up at Martin. “How?”

Martin tears his eyes from Gerry, looks down at Jon, and smirks, the same way he did in the room. He nods to the detonator in Jon’s hand. “Like Gerry said, it’s just one big Leitner, right? Pick a shanty and start us off.”

Jon blinks for a moment, then suddenly shoots Melanie a mischievous look. “They say life has its ups and downs—”

It’s not hard to recognize “Pump Shanty”—technically a recreation of an older tune, but hey, it works—and Gerry heartily joins in the chorus as Jon passes the detonator to Melanie. Basira looks torn between confusion and annoyance, but by the time Gerry hands the detonator off to Daisy, she, at least, seems to have understood what’s going on. And while it’s obvious she doesn’t actually know the words, she improvises well enough that it should work just fine. Basira fumbles her way through a verse and hands it off to Martin, who gets them back on track.

“Bend your backs and break your bones, we’re just a thousand miles from home…”

Martin actually twirls the detonator around his hand before handing it back to Jon. He takes it, and on the word home, his eyes fixed on the House of Wax, he slams his thumb down on the detonator.

The loud boom, followed by the plume of smoke and column of fire that blossoms from the abandoned museum against the darkening sky, is better than Bonfire Night.

[dead-body-in-the-basement]

and a juice

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo'66 au ! old!serial killer! rafe x young!sugardoll!reader

warnings : daddy issues/kink. slight of rafe having a god complex. smut. sick love/obssession/behavior. age gap. size kink. gunplay. spit. mean!dark!rafe. mentions of kidnapping/murdering. dark content. be careful with the warnings.

author's note : i think a lot about rafe having a god complex. and the way it could fix him to have a girl who cherish him and love him like he's just the only one. as the same i think a lot of rafe being a cult!leader with a sweet lamb. anyways, enjoy !

you knew you weren't allowed to touch his gun, but you couldn't pretend that the forbidden rules didn't excite you either. the proof being that you were still with rafe even though he had kidnapped you. you had found the glock in the drawer, and now you were having fun with it to the point where you hadn't heard your jailer come home. you were too captivated by the handgun to pay attention to that.

“ will you teach me how to shoot ? ” you asked in a soft tone.

“ obviously not. but i can swear to you that if you don't put the gun right in my hand in a second, i will show you how i use it. especially on a little tiny thing like you. now stop playing and give it to me, sugardoll. i already told you to not get on my nerves. ”

“ are you a serial killer or something ? ” you said to him, not aware about his job.

“ no obviously, i'm a babysitter. see ? how well i care about little silly girls ? ” he answered with the most sarcastic tone. “ i think you already know what i am, but you like playing dumb. because you're desperate for my attention. you need me to explain things, to satisfy your need of validation. that's right ? ”

he moved from his place, and placed himself behind you, your small body caged against his bigger size. you could feel all the pressure of his strength on you, and you started to shiver when his breath came near to your ears.

“ since you want to play with daddy's gun so bad, i'm willing to give you what you want. ”

“ no, i don't want to play anymore ! ”

“ oh i'm afraid to tell it's too easy like that, sugar. the game doesn't stop when you decide. the game stops when i’m done playing. got it ? nod your head if you got it.”

you really started to be his doll, accepting to nod whenever he wants, to use you whenever he feels the need, to move whenever he decides. when you nodded your head, giving him a little look, he grabbed the gun.

“ you will kill me ? don't, i can be good ! ”

“ you can ? no, you will. choose your words better, sugardoll. why are you crying right now ? the worse it yet to come actually. now, open that pretty mouth of yours. ”

you refused, shaking your head. you were terrified that he would kill you.

“ i said open it. if i have to repeat it, i swear that i will snap dry this gun further in your cunt, and everytime a sound will come out your mouth, pushing it deeper inside. do you understand me ? now, don't you want to be a baby sugardoll, full of kindness and sweetness ? show me how sweet and pretty you are for me. and listen to me. ”

with tears on your cheeks, you slowly opened your mouth. you could feel rafe’s smile against your neck. you were so submissive, the perfect victim. he had chosen you well the day he saw you. like a true serial killer, he never missed his prey.

“ this is why you call me sugardoll ? ”

“ see ? i'm good enough to give you a nickname. ”

it was sick but you smiled, you felt like you were special in his eyes. maybe rafe had a collection of little dolls but you felt unique.

“ don't kill me. i'm begging you. ”

“ fuck, you don't know how hard you make me when you're desperate like that. but trust me, i will make you see soon how good you make me feel. it will be your reward for being this sweet for me, sugardoll.”

he spread your legs, holding them wide with his strong hand covering your trembling thigh while his other hand brought the front of the gun down onto your skin. passing the coldness of steel across your tummy, while you shivered at the thought of dying. when he got to your underwear. you had heard his smirk.

"oh sure, you don't want to die. you want to be fucked. it's so wet here, i could stick the gun in without even preparing you, it would slide off so easily.” his mocked tone made you yelp.

“ i'm not controlling myself ! ”

“ and you don't need too. let me take care of you. keep your mouth open. i will put my gun in. ”

“ i can't do this ! it seems very dangerous…”

“ then suck it well, sugar. especially, if you don't want me to empty the gun on your gorgeous throat. ” he warned you, while pressing his lips on your neck. it was not a kiss, but you were so soft for this little touch. you wanted to please him, to see him proud of you.

he rushed the pistol between your wet plump lips, and you almost choked on it. “ be careful, doll, daddy's gun it's loaded. ” he said with a smile that made your tears even saltier.

while you had started to do your job, his fingers were lightly pressed on the surface, fiddled with the trigger. he loved seeing your petrified eyes, he loved feeling your blood freeze inside your veins, the way you resembled a frightened and helpless animal. you were defenseless and he had no limits.

you lapped at the cold metal at first, your tongue rolling over the barrel, swirling like a needy pet, and licking every bit of the object. you didn't waste anything, moistening the weapon with your own spit, some trails dripped down your tits. rafe had pushed the gun farther, almost into your throat. you choked, a trail of saliva raining over your jaw.

there was nothing amusing about it, but he found it fun. you sucked like your life depended on it even though let's be honest, it did. you moved back and forth quickly, rushed every movement with a softly sloppy gasp. he loved, no he adored the view of your ruined face and your mouth stuffed by the cold weapon. your great job made his dick painfully hard. you could feel the gun under your tongue, and the way it abused you. you drooled, a batch of saliva engulfing one side of the charger.

“ slow down, sugardoll, you're about to melt. ”

you felt dirty for being turned on by something so humiliating, the way you were pathetic for every single thing he introduced you to. it was as if he knew what you wanted, and how to exploit it. he could destroy you as well as shape you. you were nothing but the doll he wanted to play with. he knew more than anyone how to make you feel good. he knew well how to play with his toys.

you were killing him slowly with the way you were going about it, your pink tongue tickling the barrel, your mouth swallowing the entirety of his gun. every inch moved in and out of your parted lips. you lost count of the number of times you almost choked to the point you could throw up, you did your best.

the cold air of the room hit the soaked fabric of your underwear. it had gotten so wet down there.

you tried to focus on this dangerous game but you saw his bulge growing, his crotch distorting his pants.

“ keep sucking, i'm not done. ”

“ but ..."

he ignored you and took off his pants and boxers, freeing his hard cock. the next minute he was inside you, completely buried to the point where you could feel him all the way to your stomach. you salivated on the handgun, making a rain all over it.

as he filled you up, his thick cock abusing your tight pussy, the position was totally different, you were lying there, still the gun in your mouth, but now he was fucking you. his eyes were on you, and you could feel that motivating him even more to pounded you. your juices pooled on the surface the deeper he went. the slobber gathered around the metal. he rushed away your tears with his thumb.

“ stop whining, sugardoll. you can't cry when daddy takes you so well. ”

you really wanted to listen to him but it was too much for you. you were full of tears and they constantly wanted to come out, even when you felt good. but it was like the more you cried, the more he bullied your pussy, and by that, giving you more reasons to whine.

“ jesus, i'm pretty sure that you really like that gun in your mouth. ” he said with a firm thrust that made you squirm, your eyes wettering as the sentence. “ you like being this pathetic ? don't worry, i got you, i'm not judging you, but don't mind if i take advantage of it ? of course, you don't mind. you love being this sick, you're just a needy freak. ”

he pulled out before putting it back in you, inched himself deeper and deeper, letting you breathless. he was more rough this time, his fat length stretching you wider. his hips slammed your skin, his sweaty balls slapping you in motion. you nodded your head, your loud moans echoed in the empty room. his heavy hand on your tiny throat, pressuring it every time your walls tighten him.

his big other hand squeezing your small waist, as your core wrapped him harder. “ see ? daddy's making you a new home, right now. ”

his breath was heavy and short, the sweat of his body pressed against yours, while you were about to explode, so close to the orgasm. you were crying even more. and he covered your mouth with his large palm. he hitted the right spot again and again, without a break. you reached the second orgasm quickly, and you waited for him to explode at his turn. but he was taking his time on purpose. he obviously liked to abuse this little cunt of yours, wrecking like it was nothing your cervix. he glared at your glistening eyes with a proud face, while hurting your sloppy cunt. “ be patient, sugar. it's a matter of time but daddy will make you melt, and you will make a big mess on his dick to show how grateful you are ? ”

you didn’t answered, even when he released your mouth from his hands, because of the overheating.

“ you better answer because i can go to the next round. ”

“ yes .. yes !! ”

“ you're so naive, sugar. trusting me this easy, it's your own fault if old men like me use you. like did you really think we will not go on another round ? i'm about to make you dumb. not only your brain, your pussy, all of you. after this, you will not be able to think, to talk and even to walk. ”

your tears made him cum, and you let out a noisy and desperate whimper. “ it's sad for you that i'm the only god you can pray for, because i'm going to ignore all your prayers, making you on your knees every time for nothing more than my own good. sweet lamb, i'm such an uncaring god. but you can't hate on me, even a little, such a pretty precious thing you are. ”

“ why ? ” was the only word that came out of your mouth.

in fact, you were a little sad about this, because you wished that he cared a bit, even an hint about you.

“ nobody deserve you like i do. nobody deserve to touch you, or put an eyes on you, no one. you're just mine, and i need you to understand that clearly. do you got it ? do you even understand what i mean ? i will never let someone have you. never. ”

“ i really love you. ”

“ not only you love me, sugardoll. you adore me, you cherish me, you can't breath without me. do you understand ? how trapped i made you.”

“ bu…”

“ quit crying. you wanted this, you begged for. ”

“ i thought you only wanted to kill me ! ”

“if i wanted to kill you, it would already be done. i don't mind having blood in my hands, i'm a killer after all. but yours, i promise, i would never dream of, sugardoll. ”

it was very sick. but his words made you smile.

“ i want to hug you ! ”

“ don't make me regret my words. i still can choke you to death. ”

“ can i ask a question ? ”

“ jesus, if you don't yap more than a thousandth time each day, you're dead or what ? i swear, tell me your question, but choose it carefully because it will be the last. so, use your dumby brain very well. ”

“ i just wanted to know…if it's the first time you do this with one of your victims ? ”

“ why do you want to know ? ”

“ you need to answer ! ”

“ and you need to mind your own business. ”

“ i asked you a question ! it's not fair if you don't answer it ? ”

“ you better not try to raise your voice at me because i can shout, and trust me, the tears i will bring in your face will not be that pretty. ”

“ you're still mean to me…nothing has changed. ”

“ and you're still annoying. yes, nothing has changed.”

and you smiled at him, your sweet eyes melted on his unhichanged look.

“ someday i know you will love me too ! ”

“ bold to have faith, better to work on it, sugardoll. ”

you gave him a sweet look, even if he was grumpy, you wanted him.

[wetsocksinbed]

the Arrival DLC is so funny because Hackett is like “hey Shepard I know you’ve been given all these insanely dangerous tasks so I’m just going to ask you to do a really easy, really simple one. I just need you to go grab someone. Routine op, in and out. Nothing dramatic.” And then you end up blowing up an entire goddamn solar system and killing billions of people

[sluttyquarantinetheory]

By the time you actually reach Baldur's Gate it feels like you've domesticated most of your companions. Except Astarion who is much like a feral chihuahua you found in a field and he'll bite your shins if you forget to give him a treat. And then you enter a magic shop and as you're leaving you suddenly learn your wizard has been picking up bad habits from the chihuahua this entire time.

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI, on Ao3

Chapter 2

Oops! Accidentally wrote another yandere story. This time its Alpha Shanks and Omega Reader.

If I have to keep thinking about it, you can read about it. It’s cringe, it’s overdone, it’s annoying and I don’t care. I did proofread this, but I'll likely do so again in the coming days.

TW: depression, suicidal ideation mentioned, non-con, dubcon, whump, abuse

MIND THE TAGS!

~

Shanks gets more than just the Poneglyphs when he destroys the Victoria Punk, he gets you too. Shanks is kinder than your previous owner, but an Emperor doesn't let treasures slip through his fingers.

~

As you sat on the floor in Kid’s cabin, wrists shackled and chained to his bed, you heard the tell tale sounds of fighting. You knew that Kid was going after Red Haired Shanks in an effort to dislodge the Emperor and take his title. You would never say anything for fear of being slapped across the face or worse, but you didn’t think he was going to win. At least, you hoped he didn’t. You hoped the Emperor killed everyone on board, yourself included. It was what the crew deserved, and your torment would finally end. You would be free of the hell your life had become since the Kid Pirates had taken you from your home. It would probably be a better ending for you than anything else that would happen, anyway.

You’d been living on Beta Island incognito, hiding your status as an Omega. You didn’t want to be sold to a Celestial Dragon in your late teens, as your parents had planned for you. So you’d escaped your home island shortly before your 13th birthday, evading patrol after patrol, living your life on the run. Eventually, you found yourself on Beta Island, which suited you just fine. Only Betas were allowed to live on the island, avoiding all the trouble that the other two dynamics brought with them. You’d taken suppressants since your escape and because you’d never gone into heat, you were able to pass yourself off as a regular Beta. It had been an idyllic time for you, as you worked and made friends with the Betas on your island. You had even deluded yourself into thinking that maybe your life would be alright, when the Kid pirates attacked the island.

You were running away from the chaos and destruction downtown, trying to keep from being spotted as well as you could. Scrambling through an alley, you passed the Captain himself, who was laughing at the bloodshed and pain he was causing innocent people. You thought he hadn’t seen you but you suddenly felt yourself being dragged backwards, back towards the pirate. Panicking, you tried even harder to wriggle away and escape but it proved to be pointless. Later, you found out that he was magnetizing the grommets in your clothes to bring you towards him. Captain Kid grabbed you in his metallic hand once you were close and inhaled a deep whiff of your scent. When you were on suppressants, your ability to scent was dulled but you could still tell you didn’t like his acrid aroma. Kid smelled like sweat, blood, oil, and anger, not an appealing combination. Pushing on the gigantic metallic arm, you tried in vain to dislodge yourself from his grasp. 

“What’s an Omega like you doing on Beta Island?” he asked, crushing your ribs with his gigantic fist. You weren’t sure if he knew his own strength, but he was keeping you in his clutches with ease.

“N-not O-omega,” you grunted out, trying to breathe through the constriction of his hand. You were still squirming, trying to get away from the large pirate.

“Oh yeah? You sure? Your pussy smells like Omega. It’s practically cryin’ for me to take you right here,” he sneered. “Oi! Killer! Take this one back to the ship, lock ‘er in my cabin.” He yelled to a man in a full face mask. Leaning closer to your face, he licked your neck and leered at you. “We’ll find out later if that pussy is Omega or not,” he said, handing you off to Killer. You tried to get away from the masked man, to no avail. Killer was just as strong as his Captain and wasn’t letting you down. Kicking, screaming, pounding his back did nothing as the first mate advanced towards the ship. 

Quickly chaining you to the Captains bed, the first mate considered you for a moment. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Omega. Lose the attitude. Otherwise, you won’t last long here.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Kid had come back to his cabin once the pirates had sufficiently destroyed your peaceful home. You huddled in the corner of the room, as far as your chains would let you, but the Captain had you before him in seconds. Covered in the blood of your former friends, the Captain had disrobed you, ripping through your clothes like they were paper. 

“Lemme see yer,” Kid said, ogling your now naked form. You tried not to cower, but you couldn’t help but tremble before the raw bloodlust in his eyes. You’d never taken a lover before, you had been too nervous it would interfere with your hormones and expose you as an Omega. Kid's leering had led to groping, which led to much more. That first night he’d bitten, clawed, bruised, kissed, and abused you, leaving you broken in spirit and body. You never fully recovered. You quickly learned he didn’t want you talking, didn't want you making eye contact, didn’t want to hear your crying, didn’t want anything from you except your body. He used you as he saw fit, as ruthless to you as he had been to your island. He never even asked your name, most often calling you ‘Omega,’ or ‘Bitch,’ among other colorful names.

You were the Captain’s sex doll, and the crew treated you as such. No one paid you any mind except to tell you to move the fuck out of the way, or to laugh at you as you stumbled out of the Captain’s quarters when he let you. Killer would occasionally bandage your wounds, but Kid preferred you to wear the marks he put on you. Kid wanted the mating bond to form between the two of you, to solidify the fact that you were his and prevent any rivals from taking you. To do that, he needed to bring you into heat. To try to get you to go into heat, he had tried any old wives tale he could find. He locked you in his quarters, denied you food except for his cum, kept you naked for days on end, bit your neck in a claiming bite, anything that might work. None of it did, but it all left you weakened, depleted, and suicidal. 

Even though you could practically feel his disdain for you, Kid sometimes told you his plans late at night after he finished pumping you full of his come. As you laid with tears drying on your cheeks and blood dripping from fresh wounds he’d given you, he told you about his simmering hatred for Red Haired Shanks and how he wanted his revenge. During these conversations, you encouraged him, praising his strength and skill, and told him that he absolutely was powerful enough to take on the Emperor. You were surprised that your voice held out while you were talking, both from disuse as well as from the effort you had to put into lying to his face. Once when you voiced these opinions, he’d stroked your skin while in thought, the first time his touch hadn’t hurt you. 

The day finally came that he attacked the Emperor. You’d heard him powering up his attack, laughing maniacally as he planned to wipe out the fleet of ships you could see from his cabin window. You cringed, waiting for the sounds of the dying….except it never came. Instead, a sonorous voice boomed out “Divine Departure,” bringing a deafening blast to your ship. Screams had followed, but not the ones you were used to. Rather, you detected the screams coming from the crew, yelling that they didn’t want to die, that the Captain had been defeated, that Killer was also knocked out. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed long and hard, cackling into the darkness that had consumed the ship. You knew your voice had been ruined from too much choking and screaming, your vocal chords permanently damaged at the hands of your would be Alpha. The sounds you made were harsh and coarse, like a ghoul laughing from beyond the grave. Normally you were too ashamed to speak with your butchered voice, but you were too joyous to care. You were happy he’d received vengeance for some of the violence he brought to the world. You could only hope the ship sank and the rest of you with it. 

A few moments later, the door banged open and Emma stood before you, tears running down her face. She didn’t address you, just unchained you from the post on the Captain's bed and pulled you along with her. She was carrying the Poneglyphs, the Captain’s most prized possession aside from you. Emma was running, giving you barely enough time to avoid being dragged, as she brought you to the center of the deck. She bowed, and when you didn’t follow suit right away, kicked you so that you fell to your knees. Glancing up, you saw why.

All powerful Emperor Red Haired Shanks was on the Victoria Punk, staring down the crew impassively as they pleaded for their lives. You dropped your head, not making eye contact with the Emperor. You’d been hit enough to know that Alphas didn’t want you making eye contact with them in any capacity. Shanks approached Heat, who now held both the Poneglyphs and the end of your chain.

Shanks POV

Shanks observed the panicking Commander as he advanced towards their Captain. Kid’s crew were begging for Shanks’s forgiveness, something that would not be given. They had tried to annihilate his subordinate crews and would have, if Shanks hadn’t acted so quickly. Drawing a gun was dangerous, it put your life on the line. And Kid had been given a warning when Beckman shot off his arm. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. 

A young woman brought the Road Poneglyphs in her hands, along with someone attached to the end of a chain. Handing her Commander both items, the blue haired girl bowed in supplication to Shanks, awaiting his judgment. Noting the chained woman didn’t do the same, the girl kicked the battered woman, bringing her to her knees. Shanks took the Poneglyphs from the Commander, who also handed him the end of the chain of the cowering woman. Shanks had no interest in slaves, he didn’t keep or want any. The slave kept her gaze averted, looking at the ground as she trembled. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, as well as cuts and welts. She bore a savage mating bite that was clearly infected, along with bruising circling her neck. Breathing in deeply, Shanks hid his surprise as he realized the small woman was an Omega. 

Omegas were exceedingly rare in the world, they were either sold to Celestial Dragons for an incredible amount of money, or outright stolen from their homes. If an Omega bred with an Alpha or Apex Alpha during their heat, the offspring was guaranteed to be either an Alpha or Omega, unlike other pairings. Because the Celestial Dragons took or bought nearly all of the Omegas in the world, wild Omegas were unbelievably scarce. Shanks hadn’t heard of one being found in over a decade. How the Kid pirates had managed to find one and kept her a secret, Shanks didn’t know. 

He said nothing as his own ship passed by, his crew calling out to him. Shanks removed his Emperor’s cloak, covering the shivering woman in its warmth and his scent. Your small trembling fingers took the fabric and held it shut around your body, as you sniffed the material. You still hadn’t said a word or looked at anything besides the floor, but there would be time to investigate later. Throwing the Omega over his shoulder, Shanks took the Poneglyphs in hand and stepped on the railing of the enemy ship. You were light and put up no struggle when Shanks took you, the only sound emanating from you was the clinking of your chains.

“Look over on the island!” Shanks heard the offending crew yell as he launched himself onto the Red Force. The Omega didn’t shout or scream, just gripped his shoulder a little more tightly as he darted into the air. Landing on the Red Force, Shanks yelled out for Hongo.

“Meet me in my cabin. Ten minutes,” Shanks ordered. The doctor nodded his assent, and went below deck, likely to the infirmary to gather supplies. Handing the Poneglyphs to Beckman, Shanks shifted the Omega in his arms so he was carrying you with his arm under your legs. You moved your face so it was buried in the crook of Shanks’s neck, avoiding looking at either the ship or the crew assembled on the deck. He hoped you were acclimating yourself to his scent, it would make your transition away from your previous mate easier. Even through the fear and pain Shanks smelled on you, he could tell your scent was absolutely delicious, like no other woman he’d smelled before. His cock twitched with the thought of claiming you for his own, though your medical issues needed attention first.

Bringing you to his cabin, Shanks shut the door behind you quietly. Depositing the woman onto his bed, you shrank back further into the cloak as if to hide yourself. You gripped the hem of the garment so hard that your fingers were turning white, matching your face as the color drained out. Ah , Shanks thought to himself, she thinks I’m going to ravage her right now like some animal . It made sense, he’d put you on his bed, what else were you going to think? 

Sitting down next to you on the bed, Shanks didn’t speak. Instead, for the first time in the Emperor’s life, he purred. He was an Apex Alpha, a rare breed of Alpha who was able to control other Alphas. It came with Conqueror’s Haki, the two traits going hand in hand. Purring came to him instinctively, but he’d never felt the urge to do so before. He’d had lovers who’d requested it, but Shanks had always laughed them off like they’d told a joke. But seeing you distressed made the rumble come almost unbidden, rising from his chest like a balm. You still didn’t look at him, but your fingers relaxed incrementally. Shanks continued purring for you as you tensed at his presence next to you, tenderly picking you up to sit on his lap. You sat upright, stiff, your body rigid with fear and apprehension.

“Easy, little Omega, easy,” Shanks said between purrs. You didn’t respond but didn’t object either physically or verbally to anything he was doing. Shanks wound his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The rhythmic sounds were working, lulling you into a state of relaxation and calm as your hands dropped to your lap and your head relaxed against his chest.

Your POV

You were gripping onto the Emperor’s black cloak like it was going to shield you from whatever was going to happen next. It was heavy and warm, smelling like tobacco, cloves, and oranges, a heady combination. Even if your life would be no better under the Emperor, at least this scent wouldn’t make the bile rise in your throat. 

You were still avoiding his gaze, your wrists shaking in the chains under his watch. He’d put you on his bed, likely for the same reasons Kid always had. At least he hadn’t thrown you against the wall or forced you to suck his cock first, making you choke until you cried or passed out. Much to your dismay, he began to purr for you. You’d heard stories during your childhood about the Alpha purr. There were whispers that it was a form of mind control, that it was used to beguile Omegas into doing things against their will. Kid had already done a lot of things against your will, the Emperor didn’t need to purr to make you do anything. You hoped this wasn't a precursor to something vile, though you were long past wishful thinking.

But as the Emperor continued to purr and moved you into his lap, you felt it working despite your efforts to remain alert. The soothing rumble had you taking deep breaths and relaxing your hands. You felt your exhaustion returning to you, adrenaline finally having run its course. Against your better judgment, you laid your head on the broad chest of the Emperor behind you. His well muscled arm encircled you, and you were content to forget the horrors that would likely await you in the coming days, feeling only the warmth and comfort of an Apex Alpha’s purr.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin, making you jerk upright once again. You’d looked at the door when you’d been surprised, but you quickly affixed your gaze to the floor once again. You hoped Shanks hadn’t seen your mistake, or that he would be willing to forgive you if he did. But he didn’t move to strike you at all, just called out to whoever had the audacity to bother the Captain. 

“Come in, Hongo,” he said calmly. You wanted to hide your face in the crook of his neck again, but you knew there would be no solace found seeking comfort where there was none. Opening the door, a large man with blonde hair came inside, carrying a black leather doctor’s case. You said nothing and remained in place, it was the safest route for the time being. The man, whose name you now knew to be Hongo, walked slowly towards you and his Captain, as if he was walking towards a wild animal.

“How’re we doin’, Captain?” he asked, surveying the scene in front of him. The Captain obviously hadn’t been hurt, he was talking about you.

“Alright,” Shanks answered, arm squeezing you a little tighter. You flinched as the memories of being crushed by Kid’s arm came flooding back to you. “They had an Omega. She needs some help,” he said softly, patting your thigh over his cloak. You were acutely aware that you were completely nude below the cloak. You hoped Shanks wouldn’t take you in front of Hongo, or at least not for the first time. Kid had done whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to him who saw what he did to you. 

“Sure, no problem,” Hongo replied easily, opening his bag. He brought out a stethoscope first, something you were familiar with. Winding the scope around his neck, he slowly pried the cloak out of your fingers in order to put the bell on your skin. You desperately wanted to stay within the safety of the cloak, but you knew you had no power. If they wanted to see you naked, they were going to get what they wanted. Surprisingly, Hongo didn’t remove the cloak completely, allowing you use it to cover your breasts and lower half while he worked. As Hongo placed the buds in his ears and reached towards you with the scope, you leaned back and away from the advancing hands. You hadn’t meant to, it was instinctive. Shanks started purring for you again as he gently but firmly kept you in place for Hongo, his arm across your waist.

“You’re safe, Omega, he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just checking your lungs and heart,” the Captain said softly. Hongo took his time listening, moving the scope around your back and front. Once he was done, he put the scope away and took out medical gloves. 

“I’m gonna check the wounds on your top half and neck, OK?” Hongo informed you. You said nothing as he began touching the injuries that you’d suffered at the hands of Kid. You kept yourself from making any noises of pain or recoiling when he touched something painful. You knew you looked beaten and ugly, despite avoiding the mirror. Kid always left bite marks, bruises, hickeys, and cuts whenever he was with you. Your breasts looked like they’d been mauled the last time you’d checked them. But the worst of all was your neck - between the times he’d choked you, the bite he’d given you, and the attention he gave your scent glands nightly, it was a column of black and blue. In spite of your efforts, you hissed when Hongo touched your neck tried to move away from his efficient hands. 

But the men weren’t going to let you shrink away from the medical inspection. Shanks cradled your head against his shoulder when Hongo inspected the agonizing bite on the spot between your neck and shoulder, purring all the while. You knew there was something wrong with it, but Kid had never let you touch it or clean the wound, saying that it would affect your mating bond. You thanked the seas that the bond hadn’t formed, but the throbbing pain of the bite had only gotten worse.

“You’ve got a lot of wounds on your torso and neck. Are there more below?” Hongo asked quietly when he was done inspecting your top half. You waited, not knowing if they wanted you to respond or not. Sometimes it was a trick, people would talk about you while you were there but if you responded, you got in trouble. 

“Hm, do you? I thought I saw some before,” Shanks asked you benignly, rubbing his fingers in circles over your skin. They were both quiet for a few moments and you realized they were waiting for you to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk, so you gave a shaky nod while continuing to look at the floor.

“I’m gonna have to look, OK?” Hongo said, crouching down in front of the Captain. He was trying to make eye contact, but you steadfastly stared down, in order to show your obedience. You blinked rapidly several times, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. You’d been naked in front of so many people, but the fact that Hongo was asking made you feel more vulnerable than ever. You nodded again, but your hands were frozen in place, gripping the cloak with all your meager strength.

“Brave little Omega, doing so well,” the Emperor said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You didn’t know when the last time you’d been allowed to bathe was, you were sure you smelled disgusting. Shanks unwound his arm from your waist, and slowly tugged the fabric from your hands, letting it fall onto your lap. You tried not to squirm, not to move as the doctor touched your welts and cuts, but you felt humiliated and debased as he poked and prodded you. After a few minutes of inspection, Hongo sighed, stood up to his full towering height and snapped off the gloves.

“There’s a lot going on,” he said to the Emperor, who had rapidly covered you back in the cloak. “She’s got a lot of wounds, some healing, some new. That bite on her neck is infected, it needs to be taken care of immediately. She’s malnourished and has at least one broken rib. And she’s going to go into heat soon.” 

Your eyes finally snapped to the doctor’s, everything lost to the panic suddenly overwhelming you. 

Shanks POV

Perhaps having Dorry and Broggy destroy the ship wasn’t enough. As Shanks watched you flinch away from Hongo’s inspection, his rage rose by the second. He’d seen your naked form on the ship, but the dim light hadn’t revealed to him the depth of your injuries. It was practically a miracle that you were still alive, Shanks thought. It was well known that Omegas weren’t as durable as Betas and Alphas, they were generally treated with care like the treasures they were. But not only were you littered with wounds from head to toe, but you were a shell of a person. You hadn’t said a single word, you hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, and you hadn’t moved an inch outside of where Shanks had placed you. 

Now, with the information that you were going into heat soon, you were panicking. Shanks could feel your heart beating rapidly and saw your chest rising and falling too quickly. The Alpha in him was worried, wanting to soothe the Omega still perched on his lap. Shanks put his hand over your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Even if the Alpha in him wanted to purr and cuddle you until you calmed down, the Captain needed to get a little more information out of you first. You were still lost in your own world, not responding to any stimulus.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. When was your last heat, hmm?” Shanks asked, holding your face in his hand. The touch seemed to ground you, causing you to blink rapidly as if you suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. You shook your head at his question, making Shanks frown at your answer. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the lengthier and more severe the symptoms were when it reappeared. Shanks hoped you hadn’t gone into heat during your time in captivity, it would increase the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. Looking at your body, he couldn’t imagine you were capable of carrying life in your current state. 

“What do you mean, little Omega? You haven’t had a heat in a year? Or longer?” Shanks asked. He knew you were scared and upset, but he and Hongo needed to know this information, it was part of the way they would take care of you. He gently turned your face towards his, forcing you to look up at him. You finally looked at his face, though you didn’t meet his eyes. You shook your head again.

“Tell me more, I need to know how to help you,” Shanks prompted, stroking your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself before speaking.

“Never,” you said in a hoarse whisper. Shanks recognized the voice from the laughter in the wake of battle.

“Never? What do you mean? This would be your first heat?” Hongo asked incredulously. Shanks hadn’t met another Omega, but it was known that they typically had their first heat cycle in their upper teens. 

You nodded, a tear running down your cheek. 

[selineram3421]

*has a little idea* I've gotta listen to brain commands.

First Day

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ implied murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of heart attack, shake of head=no, fake crying lol, italic red=Alastor's thoughts ⚠

Alastor didn't understand why some demons worried over the little children that ran amuck in Hell.

That is until he adopted one himself.

Small, wide eyed, and frail looking. Of course he'd worry after a glance. But after seeing the pile of dead bodies beneath their feet, it seemed like there wasn't too much to worry about.

So all he had to do was teach them how to make others fear them. Especially after the whole kidnapping fiasco with Valentino.

And what better timing than their first day of school.

.

You were playing around in the hotel.

Most of it was following Husk around and scaring the other hotel guests. But then Charlie told Alastor the number of complaints from guests about you and your pranks.

"They are absolutely harmless! What's a little scare going to do?", the deer demon said.

"Someone had a heart attack.", Vaggie piped in.

"Nuh-uh!", you popped up out of nowhere, making the two females jump in surprise. "That frog demon croaked! He's just mad that I made him make a funny sound."

The blonde sighs before holding out a flyer to the red dressed demon.

"Look, I know you're just having fun but not all demons think its funny.", she tells you before looking at Alastor. "There's a school for demon children not too far from the hotel, maybe they can meet demons their age and make friends?"

After dinner you and Alastor sat down on the couch in the hotel room and read through the flyer.

"I don't want to go.", you pouted.

"Don't worry my little terror, we'll think of something.", he booped your nose. "Perhaps we can use this as training!"

"Training?", you repeated.

"Yes! We'll use this as an opportunity!", Alastor said as he stood from the couch, turning to hold out a hand for you to take. "Come little one, there's much I have to teach you."

.

"Remember what I taught you little one!", Alastor says, fixing their coat. "Anything can be a weapon..."

"With enough force and creativity!", they said confidently.

"Correct!", his smile brightened. "Now, let's go show the ladies that you are a proper demon with manners so they feel bad for sending you out. Remember to look sad."

"Hmhmm!", the nod again before taking a deep breath, putting on their sad face and looking down at the floor.

"Perfect.", he approved before leading them by the hand down to the lobby.

Both of the girls were waiting by the entrance doors to say their goodbyes to the little demon.

"We are ready!", Alastor announces.

"Hey! We got them a-", Charlie starts before noticing the little demon's sad face. "..lunch box."

Vaggie squints at them but doesn't say anything.

Though the Radio Demon can see that his little one's sad face is affecting her as well, the moth demon clenching her fists.

"Now, what do we say mon petit?", the deer demon pats their back.

"I'm..", they say but don't look up yet. "I'm sorry for being bad and I'll go to school so..", finally they look up at the girls with little tears starting to well up. "Please don't be mad anymore."

Charlie is obviously affected the most and looks over at her partner, receiving a shake of the head from the white haired demon in response.

The princess takes a breath before handing over the lunch box to the little demon. "Its only for a little bit, alright?"

"Ok..", they say, still keeping up with the act before turning to face him. "Bye Alastor."

"It won't be for long, don't worry.", he 'reassures' them. "I'll pick you up when school is out."

They nod before hugging his side.

He pats them on the head before waving them goodbye as they walk out of the hotel and to the school bus.

Bidding the ladies adieu, Alastor lets his smile widen after turning away from the two, wondering how his little demon will cause chaos.

I can't wait to hear all about it~

*wipes away tears after typing out the fake crying* I was that child huh.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[blueseysyogurt]

can’t believe america made a whole holiday in honor of the party kavinsky threw at the end of tdt and whatever tf ronan and kanvinsky had going on there

[incorrectbatfam]

Robin!Dick: Bruce, can I walk to the park?

Bruce: Well, let's see. If a stranger asks you to get in their van, would you?

Dick: Absolutely, I love meeting new people.

Bruce: No, you don't get in the van.

Dick: Okay, I won't.

Bruce: What if they have candy?

Dick: Now I'm getting in, I love candy.

Bruce: No, you don't get in.

Dick: But they have candy, come on!

Bruce: You don't get in!

Dick: Fine, I won't.

Bruce: What if they say, "But I know your dad."

Dick: Then I'm getting in. That's family.

Bruce: No, they're lying.

Dick: That liar!

Bruce: What if they have a puppy?

Dick: I'm getting in.

Bruce: No, you still don't get in.

Dick: Okay, no problem.

Bruce: What if they offer you money?

Dick: I'm in there!

Bruce: No!

Dick: No?

Bruce: No!

Dick: Okay.

Bruce: What if they say they'll take you to the toy store?

Dick: Scoot over, I'm getting in!

Bruce: No!

Dick: I'm staying out. I'm not getting in the van.

Bruce: No, you can't go to the park.

Dick: I don't even wanna go anymore.

Bruce: Okay.

Dick: I wanna get in that stranger's van. They got fucking puppies and candy.

[bluerosefox]

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"

[vampcaprisun]

why do all of the options for talking to wyll after mizora's punishment feel so mean? the poor guy just got sent through the tortures of the nine hells and had his body permanently changed, and it's clear that all of this is because mizora was deceiving him, and you're telling me i can't just...check in on him? like what's even the point of having five different options if all of them are just different flavors of "you had it coming"? i think he's been beaten down enough by the devil who just showed up to fuck him over and treat him like something less than human while doing it, let me just be nice to him!!!!!

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.

Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side. 

Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.

_______

The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids! 

Ghost?

Should they call in the JLD?

_______

Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.

Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!

Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.

He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth. 

But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.

A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.

But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.

He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness. 

He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it. 

He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.

Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy. 

He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.

In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.

“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-

Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-

“Are you single?”

There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.

He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!

[hyperfixating-chic]

Anytime a Wayne gets a kidnapping threat Jason fits a pun in on how he died

“Hey, I mean, worse comes to worse, the worst thing that you can do is *die*”

“—Jason.”

But he gets a kidnapping threat? Gosh, stay out of Bruce’s way. Jason isn’t out of his sight once and if that maybe, possibly, makes Jason feel a little safer, he ain’t telling anyone.

But he might get a few more nightmares than usual, might work on his knot and lock picking skills, even though it makes him feel stupid.

Bruce might be working on how fast his motorcycle goes, he might sneak in Jason’s room to check on him a couple (No Barbara, it has not been every night—) times, might tell him he loves him more often, might panic when Jason goes on patrol, might trail him to make sure his baby is safe, but Jason might not hate it.