#poly macabre

[ask-the-parabalis-gang]

There was the faint sound of struggling, a grumble coming from some far away corner. The sound was coming from an area that was visibly bugging and glitching out, the glimpses of a man trying to either come into their reality, or attempt to not come in. This said struggle goes on for a while, the sounds growing increasingly more frantic before a hat suddenly appeared in the glitching corner. It lied still, before eventually, a... New face appeared. Well, a new lack of face. A pained grumble escapes the man before they slowly stands, his movements jerky and almost forced as they tried to lean on anything nearby. Their limbs were glitching in and out from blocks to something human, before eventually stilling at the human-esque limbs. 'O-Oh, dear that.. was not the best travel I've had...' They say, their voice strained with the certain struggle. He turns his head towards the group of... Six? Five? Their vision is blurry. 'Hello? I- I can't tell where I am... The name isn't coming to me, and I don't... feel like I belong here. I feel too similar to what I were o-originally...' He says, reaching down for his hat and shakily putting it on. They lean in for a moment, trying to focus onto the group.

//HOPEFULLY THIS,, ISNT TOO LONG OF AN ASK,, ive been thinking about thiz for a while and i thought it be cool,,?? you don have to answer it, no worries!! <:3

Patchy is the first to greet the newcomer, bright eyes wide as she dashes over to him. "Oh my goodness, are you alright?" she exclaimed, moving within arms length of the stranger but not yet touching him in case he didn't want that.

Orgon turns to Cal skeptically, tilting his head and causing the younger man to scoff. "What?" he chuckles. "I don't know anything about this - how could I?" His easy smile remains steady as he, too, moves over to the stranger. "Is everything okay there, buddy?" Pith stares at where the stranger had appeared, slowly turning her head to Clay. "I'm- I'm not seeing things, am I?"

Clay shakes their head. "Nah. That's real. That's a real thing. There's a planet. Standing right in front of us. Holy shit."

Poly simply stares, standing behind Clay and Pith like the coward he was, muttering to himself. "Holy shit... holy fucking shit, what the fucking fuck is that-"

//NO THIS IS AMAZING HOLY SHIT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!!!!!!

[acornbringer]

I just shared a video montage showing off some of the new mechanics and areas I have been working on these past few months.

It's visible for free members and patrons alike so go have a look! Link in my bio✨

[kitsunequeen1987]

Idk what it is, but all the characters in this story are pretty.

Polyamory, bitches

[moonyinthestars]

THIS SEEMS LIKE TOO HIGH OF A PRICE TO PAY 😭 I am also looking forward to see more of Konig's tender side !

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; summoning her was a choice heavy with consequences. now, you're forced to confront buried loyalties and a steep price for salvation.

★ warnings; body horror, mommy issues

☆ story masterlist

Hours pass after the call, each second heavy with anticipation as you sit on the porch, nails tapping out a nervous rhythm over your knee. Calling her was a decision you didn’t take lightly, and now that she’s coming, you can only wonder how it’ll play out after all this time. You’d left, and now, after everything, you’re the one who reached out first.

Suddenly, the rumble of an engine breaks the quiet, and it makes you straighten immediately. A sleek, black Mustang pulls into the drive, its windows so dark they blend seamlessly with the car's polished frame. It parks beside your own truck and where Sybil is sleeping inside. You stand up, unconsciously straightening up and brushing invisible lint off your clothes.

The moment the engine cuts off, you feel your pulse kick up a notch, the anticipation turning almost to dread.

A tall and imposing figure steps out of the driver’s seat first. It’s König, towering as ever, his dark, broad frame cutting a familiar figure in the low evening light. He steps up to meet you and doesn’t speak right away. His eyes, visible through the thin slit in his mask, soften just a little, a trace of warmth amidst his usually stoic demeanour. Carefully, he thumbs your chin in a familiar and comforting gesture, before he steps back.

“It’s been a while,” he murmurs quietly.

You give him a small nod, secretly grateful for the reassurance he brings. But the spell of reassurance fades as he opens the back door. Out slinks Cath Palug, your Mother’s familiar, a sleek, pitch-black sphynx cat with eyes like twin pale green mirrors, large and unblinking. The cat stretches his lean, wiry body and pads gracefully from the car, casting you an assessing gaze with piercing intelligence. Cath Palug’s presence is a prelude to the inevitable, and you swallow, feeling the familiar pressure of old expectations closing in.

Then your Mother steps out.

She’s a striking figure, even more intimidating than you remember, her poise and presence as commanding as ever. Dark glasses cover her eyes, and a sheer veil drapes elegantly over her face. The rich red of her lipstick is perfectly applied, as are her sharply pointed black nails, all silent declarations of control and power.

The instinct to fall back into your old ways is overpowering, and before you can think twice, you take a single step forward, bowing your head as you take her outstretched hand. You press a respectful kiss to the ring on her finger, a gesture that feels as natural as it is jarring—old habits and all. She says nothing as you straighten, and though her eyes are hidden, you feel her gaze on you, sizing you up. The faintest smile touches her lips, cold and knowing.

“Hello, darling,” she finally says. Your pulse quickens as you nod, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

Her gaze flickers over you, taking in every detail. “You look dreadful,” she says bluntly, the hint of a frown just barely touching her lips. “Haggard, exhausted. Stand up straight, would you? And explain the situation clearly.”

Her voice is clipped and unwavering, the very tone you’d grown up trying to avoid displeasing. The urge to explain, to smooth over any cracks in your composure, presses against you, and despite the bitterness it brings, you lift your head and straighten your shoulders, forcing calm into your voice as you begin.

“Yes, of course, Mother.”

As you start to recount the events, Cath Palug rubs briefly against her heels, tail flicking as it studies you with the kind of scrutiny that is all too familiar. Meanwhile, König moves ahead, his tall frame cutting through the space with purposeful strides. You can tell by his pace that he’s already in full guard mode, reading every shadow, every open corner for a potential disturbance.

You guide her through the entrance, and with every detail you recount, she says nothing. Her nose wrinkles as she surveys the house, one hand reaching delicately into her pocket to retrieve a crisp, black-lace handkerchief. She presses it to her nose, a distasteful sigh escaping her lips.

“Charming place they have here,” she murmurs, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Your beloved truly have a flair for neglect, don’t they?”

You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “I asked them to stay on the far side of the house for now,” you reply, your voice laced with as much calm as you can manage. “They won’t interfere.”

Her critical gaze sweeps over you, and she nods, looking satisfied, as if you’d passed a test you hadn’t realised was still in place. “Good. That makes this far easier.”

As you reach the door to Leah’s room, she pauses, assessing the energy hanging thickly in the air.

“König,” she says, her voice softer but no less commanding, “stay back. Watch over us but don’t enter. I suspect whatever is inside may corrupt even the strongest minds.”

König bows his head, stepping back with the same silent grace he used upon entering. He positions himself just outside the room, gaze sharpening, vigilant and ready but out of view. As the two of you step in, you can feel her energy tense, the magic in her stirring to meet whatever lay inside.

You clear your throat and try to keep your voice steady. “It’s a parasite,” you explain, feeling the sting of her scrutiny with each word. “And it’s vampiric in nature.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. The signs are practically screaming.” Cath Palug, hops into the bed and arches its back, sniffing cautiously as if tasting the darkness in the air, before hissing sharply at Leah and jumping back down. Your Mother steps closer to Leah, removing her glasses and examining her with an appraising look that makes your stomach twist.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs, trailing one long, black nail above Leah’s arm. “I can see why she was chosen. A perfect little target for something so vile.”

Her gaze flickers over to you then, sharper, assessing. Her eyes carry that icy, knowing weight. “Your situation couldn’t be more clear, either,” she says, her tone cutting. “Discarded, were you? Cast aside without a second thought, as if the love you poured into them was nothing compared to this... human.” She gestures toward Leah, her lips curled into a thin, humourless smile.

The truth in her words is a punch to the gut. Tears prick at your eyes, but you won’t let them fall—not here, not in front of her, not after all the years you spent learning to hold yourself together under her piercing gaze. You swallow down the sting, focusing on keeping your composure, just as you always had in the past.

Finally, she steps back, putting her dark glasses back on as her expression cools. “I’ll treat her,” she says, a glimmer of satisfaction in her voice, as though she’s won something precious. “But there’s a toll to be paid, of course.” She tilts her head. “You’ll return to the coven. That’s my price. Come back as my heir, and I’ll cleanse her.”

Shame curls tight in your chest, creeping into every part of you, but your thoughts linger on them—on how, despite everything they’ve put you through, you still love them. You remember when they were the ones who held you up, who sheltered you, loved you. For the memory of those days and the loyalty they once showed you, you draw a breath and nod, head bowed.

“I shall serve,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, and without another word, she turns back around to face Leah. Her hand hovers over her chest for a moment, then sinks into it as if phasing through mist. You watch, heart pounding, as her fingers disappear beneath Leah’s skin, moving with a surreal ease. She reaches deeper, her arm lost in Leah’s body until, with a sharp tug, she yanks her hand back out.

In her grasp is the parasite, writhing and hideous, a twisted, centipede-like thing. She holds it up, it's dark, slick body wriggling, as she flicks her wrist and tosses it into the air. Cath Palug leaps, claws extended and teeth flashing, catching the creature in one swift, lethal motion and dispatching it efficiently.

It’s gone as quickly as it appeared. And just like that, it’s over.

The tension in the room is palpable as Leah lies motionless on the bed, the air thick with expectation. After a heartbeat, she gasps and jerks awake, pulling you from your anxious vigil. Relief tries to settle in your chest, but it’s quickly swept away as your Mother’s elegant hand presses firmly onto your shoulder, steering you out of the room without a second glance at Leah.

Her work here is done, and by her rules, so is yours.

Stepping into the hallway, you’re met with a tense standoff. König stands, silent and imposing, facing off with Price and Gaz. Their expressions are tight, But when König's gaze falls on you, his stance softens, just slightly, allowing a gentleness to seep into his intense demeanour.

Words start to form on your lips—an explanation, a warning—but they’re forgotten as Price and Gaz push past you without a second glance, their attention fixed solely on Leah. The pang of their disregard twists painfully inside you, deepening as your Mother lets out a disapproving click of her tongue, muttering, “Predictable,” with cold satisfaction.

Yet König steps up to stand by your side. His eyes linger as he wraps one of his arms around your shoulder. As he holds you, his calm strength eases some of the tension from your shoulders. Gently, he guides you away from the room and the people who were once everything to you.

Before reaching the front door, you hesitate, glancing up at him with a thousand concerns flickering in your gaze. Your mind returns to Sybil still back in your truck. 

“Sybil… she’s—,” you whisper, unable to hide the worry in your voice. König’s eyes meet yours through his mask, understanding immediately. He gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s safe, meine liebe,” he murmurs softly. “Sybil’s waiting for us in the car. I thought you’d want her close.” His thoughtfulness eases your worry. “I know how much she means to you. The ward you left behind was sublime, as always.”

Your face warms at his compliment, and you start to thank him, but he hushes you gently, brushing a calloused finger over your cheek. “Let me take care of you,” he says, his voice soft yet steady, an unwavering promise.

It’s not unfamiliar, this caring side of him, but after everything, it still catches you off guard. He picks up your bag of supplies from beside the door, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder before acknowledging your Mother, who watches a few paces away. She gives him a curt nod, a subtle approval that König returns with a respectful bow before leading you outside.

At the curb, he helps your Mother into the car first, Cath Palug jumping in right after. Then, he guides you into the back seat. Sybil, just as he promised, is curled up in the front seat. Relief sweeps through you as you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her nose. She lifts her head to gaze at you with sleepy, trusting eyes, her tail thumping faintly.

For once, your Mother remains silent, her face impassive as you reunite with Sybil. König watches you in the rearview mirror, his gaze holding yours for a brief, grounding moment before he starts the engine.

Just as the car pulls away from the curb, your Mother speaks, her tone as sharp. “Take us to Black Mous.”

The command strikes you like a shock, but you swallow any questions that rise in your throat. König’s eyes flick to her in the mirror, and he responds with his usual composure. “At once. We’ll be there shortly.”

. . .

The car stops smoothly at bar's entrance. König steps out first, opening the door for your Mother with a practised ease, her familiar jumping out behind her. She whispers something to König that you don't catch, and he nods solemnly before rounding the car to help you.

He then goes to your door, offering you a hand which you take with a soft thanks. His grip lingers on yours however. “Sybil and I will be right here.” His voice is soft, steady, even though you can see the slight tension in his jaw. He gently squeezes your hand before finally letting go, settling back against the car with folded arms and a watchful gaze even under the mask. 

With one final look, you follow inside after your Mother.

Inside the bar, the world falls silent. The regular patrons, familiar faces who would normally greet you with nods or smiles, freeze at the sight of your Mother. She strides forward with Cath Palug keeping pace beside her, his slitted eyes glinting dangerously.

“Everyone, out.” Laswell’s voice cuts through the silence, firm and resolute. She doesn’t need to repeat herself. Chairs scrape across the floor as patrons hurriedly exit, their glances lingering on the two of you before quickly darting away.

You follow after your Mother, feeling like a shadow—silent, resigned, and drawn along by her intense presence. She halts before Laswell, Cath Palug twisting around her feet, her movements slow and foreboding.

Laswell’s gaze flicks between the two of you. “To what do I owe this… visit?” she asks cautiously, her usual confidence strained.

Your Mother doesn’t waste a second. “The Le Fay coven withdraws its support. Effective immediately,” she declares, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Laswell’s face blanches, her mouth opening in protest. “Surely there’s something we can discuss—”

Your Mother raises her hand sharply, silencing Laswell mid-sentence. “Enough.” Her tone is cold, final. “I’ve seen the state of things. Your judgement is clouded, and this establishment has drifted too far from what it once was.”

For years, the Le Fay coven had been her most steadfast ally. They’d depended on her just as much as she on them—a mutual pact so deeply woven it felt unbreakable. And yet, here your Mother stands, wielding her power to sever it with a single decision. She speaks with the conviction of one who knows her word is law. 

There’s no room for Laswell to manoeuvre, no path to reverse what’s been done. You watch her expression flicker from anger to desperate resolve, and finally, to a bleak resignation. She glances your way, perhaps seeking some support. But before you can even gather the strength to respond, your Mother snaps her fingers, and the effect is instantaneous. 

Laswell’s pleading expression crumbles, her gaze clearing as though an unseen fog has lifted from her mind. “I… what—” she stammers, blinking rapidly, as if seeing the room and the two of you for the first time.

“Consider this a lesson,” your Mother says with a hint of a sardonic smile. She turns sharply, her familiar trotting behind her in perfect synchronisation. You glance back at Laswell, once your friend and confidant. The desperation painted all over her face is now replaced with stunned silence. 

Without a glance towards you, your Mother’s peaks. “We’re going home.”

Her words settle over you like a sentence to exile from this place you once thought of as your real home. Though she doesn’t say it, you understand—she’s making it clear: you’ll never set foot here again. You do nothing more than nod in silent acceptance. 

The price you’ve paid feels almost unnamable, yet you bear it without a word, quietly resigning yourself to the weight of the path you’ve chosen.

banner credit

[art-vortex]

(via Coussin avec l'œuvre « "Crâne Humain en Or Poli sur Fond Noir" » de l'artiste Art-Vortex-fr)

[crossover-ships-yay-or-nay]

Me and my friend have this one poly cross over ship we've been constructing and idk if you do those but it's

Medic TF2 x his wife from one of the comic artists sketches x Elvira x Dr Frank n furter from rhps x the goblin King from the labyrinth

hell yeah

Medic/Herbert Ludwig (Team Fortress 2) x Medic's wife (Team Fortress 2) x Elvira, Mistress of the Dark (Elvira's Movie Macabre and other TV and film) x Dr. Frank-N-Furter (Rocky Horror Picture Show) x Jareth, the Goblin King (Labyrinth)

[ireallyliketalldarksultrymen]

WRITING MASTERPOST

i saw a couple of these and decided to make this with my fics! (updates whenever i post one onto ao3)

SPIES ARE FOREVER

the room, it echoes clear (with words we choose not to hear - tatiana-centric angst

MCYT

take me by the hand (place it on your heart) - wild life creakblings (scott + bigb)

for the heart of it - secret life shadowmoon

dripping in gold - zombiewood fluff

rose-gold painted nails - lizzie painting mumbos nails

would things be easier if there was a right way? (honey, there is no right way) - treebark coffee shop au, multi-chapter

oh, cassiopeia, let your stars collide - redstone snap stargazing

that warmth an evening brings - zombiedogwood fluff

wait, you can see me? (ah, so it talks!) - dapper duo halloween fic; mumbo accidentally summons a spirit in a graveyard

i’ve got two left feet, so i just smile politely - mumpearl slow dancing

i’ve got kisses to soothe your soul - scottpulse fluff

i will ruin you (i’ve sworn by it) - post desert duo cacti ring, grian beating up scars corpse, set in third life

worth it - impdarity fluff, them spending the weekend hiking together

kiss them, you fool - lil drabble of treebarkb in a d&d au, martyn-centric

the sound of your own thoughts are what keep you up at night - zombiesymmetry hurt/comfort. cleo-centric, set during hermitcraft 10

steady, steady, you know when you’re ready - skizzscottpulse ice skating together, sorta modern au

‘cause all i’ve ever wanted is here - poly mounders eating breakfast together, set during secret life

slow dance under stormy skies - empires flower husbands slow dance in the rain

you take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me - treebark hadestown au (ft ethubs and scar)

the last thing i want is to look like a fool - scottpulse hurt/comfort, set in secret life

sometimes all you can do is say goodnight (and tuck your demons into bed) - multi-chapter; set in limited life, pearl getting nightmares about the end of double life (ft. watcher lore)

among the wildflowers and the lilies sleeping by the way - third life flower husbands angst, scott missing his days with jimmy before he became a red life 

in the darkness and the howling, i’ve caused his drowning - an in-depth version of the treebark decapitation scene 

i love it when you look my way - flower husbands fluff, jimmy making a flower crown for scott in third life 

he wants me (to be loved) - ethubs hanahaki, set in last life; bdubs-centric

why don’t you sit right down and stay and make me smile? - gempearl on a picnic date 

it’s daunting to explore, but i want more - false joining last life 

we creep up on extinction - cleo-centric, hurt/comfort, set in secret life

kiss your fingers forevermore - femslash treebark fluff, set in third life 

meet the kids - martyn + clockers family dinner, zombiewood, set in limited life 

DOCTOR WHO

they’re right outside the door (and they don’t know) - tenrose + donna in a weeping angels situation, rose-centric

THE GLASS SCIENTISTS/J&H

“Oh, captain, let’s make a deal!” - jekyon mer au, multi-chapter

Suddenly Uncontrolled (Something is Taking Hold) - transformation scene for the jekyll and hyde musical, verryyyy old)

MY OCS

‘cause i’m six feet under nearly (and i don’t have anyone) - zombie apocalypse au

all these years without you (and your voice is still a symphony) - a crackfic filled with angst about sentient instruments that fall in love sometimes 

Adieu, My First and Last Love(s) - a songfic with its plot told by mitski songs, multi-chapter

SWEENEY TODD

Macabre - Swenett (one-sided, sweeney and mrs lovette sharing a dance after the former discovering the identity of the beggar woman; VERY old)

MISCELLANEOUS

It’s Like Slang…From England - crackship with some many fandoms that ive lost count of (fem johnlock helping regina george solve a murder mystery)

[south-of-heaven]

Poly!HOB x Fem!Reader where they meet her and she totally matches the groups vibes and they all have eyes for her?

Macabre || House of Black x Reader

Summary: The members of the house of black seem to have eyes for you.

Your first night in AEW was filled with anticipation and excitement. You had recently left WWE and were ready for a fresh start. But it wasn't just a new company; it was also a chance to showcase a different side of yourself. You had always been drawn to the darker, more gothic elements of the world, and you couldn't wait to explore this newfound freedom.

Backstage, you met the enigmatic House of Black, led by none other than Malakai Black himself. They were like a magnet, their aura pulling you in. The group's mysterious, cult-like presence intrigued you, and they seemed to mirror the dark elements you'd always been drawn to. Each member of the faction had a unique presence that captivated you.

Malakai, with his captivating intensity, was the first to approach you. His piercing eyes seemed to bore into your soul. "I sense darkness within you," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

As he spoke, Buddy Matthews and Brody King, members of the House of Black, watched you with interest. Buddy's mischievous smile hinted at secrets yet to be uncovered, while Brody's towering presence and inked skin only added to the intrigue.

And then there was Julia Hart, who was part of the faction, yet she brought a different kind of darkness. With her elegant, almost Victorian appearance and a love for the macabre, she was a perfect fit for the House of Black. But it wasn't just her style that drew you in. There was something about her, an air of mystery and elegance that was enchanting.

As you spent more time with the House of Black, you felt like you had found your tribe. Their appreciation for the darker side of wrestling, the gothic elements, and the sense of belonging drew you in. You didn't expect the attention they showed you, but it was a welcome surprise. Perhaps there was more to your AEW journey than just a fresh start; it was a chance to embrace the darkness and explore new horizons with the House of Black by your side.

[alice2447sstuff]

After that I know one thing

HOW DRAWING MACABRE IS SO HARD -

Anyway have this

Please ignore the format of the last one, Tumblr won't let me put more than 10 images 😔

Now some context about this ship in my AU, they fight a lot but they are that type of "enemies" who fight but the tension is real

Macabre certainly likes Cube's pure personality but the corruption within her speaks louder to corrupt Cube at the first opportunity so one more reason why Cube sometimes has to fight her physically as shown in the last strip , to prevent himself from being corrupted

Btw Heli would be there too since they are a poly couple but I was too tired

[marvelssssssss]

Poly 141

Main Library

One Shots

Fluff:

Welcome Home

Fosters

Werewolf Soap

Make Do

Come Home Drunk

Feral

Feral 2

Afterburn

Smut:

Heat

Kinks

Price Shares

Fluff/Smut:

Multiple Chapters - Complete

Fluff:

Past Abuse!Reader

No Designation A/B/O

Smut:

Phrases

Fluff/Smut:

Omegaverse - sprout-fics

Autumn Embers - ABO

Multiple Chapters - In Progress

Fluff:

Cat Shifter

Foster Parents - docdudo

Foster Parents - screamingforests

Part 2

Matchmaking Buns

Neighbors

American Informant

Johnny's Secret - ABO

Life’s Sweet Bells

Smut:

Fluff/Smut:

The Feral Medic

Call of the Sea

Transferrable Skills

On The Run

Darkish:

Dance Macabre

Bad Dog

Witchling and Familiars

The Omega Pack Plan

Misc:

Bold is All We Have

The Wellyboot Incident

Fic Recs

Submissive Like a Guard Dog

Cowboy AU

Dukedom

Forced Pack

[ask-the-parabalis-gang]

where would all of them take u on a first date (romantic or platonic, either way :3)

GOOD QUESTION :D

Patchy would take you to a lovely little open space in a field, throw down a patchwork quilt that she made, and have a picnic with you.

Orgon doesn’t do this kinda stuff anymore. However, back when he was relatively normal, he likely would have taken you to a nice fancy restaurant and insisted on paying.

Clay would either take you to the arcade they work at, to a skater park, or to the place where they’re having their next gig, depending on their mood and whether or not they’re performing.

Pith would take you to a simple coffee shop, or if she’s feeling rather daring, a cat cafe.

Poly would take you to his apartment to show off his bug collection. You’d have to meet his mother then. It likely wouldn’t go well. Be on your best behavior or else.

Cal would also likely take you to a restaurant, but probably nothing too fancy for the first date. Either that or a nice slow walk through the forest.

[acornbringer]

Wishing you all a happy New Year from the Spirit World!

See you soon 💀🔥

[kolyasupremanxy]

Hiii !!!! :DDD I'm the one who requested Kolya with death!reader :))) I rlly like it so I'm gonna ask again but this time w chuuya and dazai :D (idk if u do poly relationship, if you don't you can separate them!! :D)

Reader was in the mafia even before dazai both joined so like, they're have been considered dangerous enought to no one even speak w them (their mentor encouraged ppl to not interact with them) so one day they meet the double black and begins to work w them extremely silent and unhinged at the same time.

Some links to how reader is!! :D (dw they ain't a furry but like how they act and the whistle + their eyes are like black w red pupils :D)

https://youtu.be/YRly68v1nCQ

https://youtu.be/HP7D3DPVjKc

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲! 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬/𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬+ 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff(?) , Romance

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Mentions if finishing someone(?)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 0.84k

𝐀/𝐧 : Sorry for the wait, anon. I'm glad you liked the results of your other request T^T To be honest, I appreciate your effort of putting the links in your request. <3 Thank you, anon! ♡♡ Also, a polyamorous relationship with Dazai and Chuuya? wbaisgwkshjs I really love the idea of being in a poly with them<33

Despite their differences, Dazai and Chuuya both have a deep respect and affection for each other, and they're both equally devoted to you.

You initially met Dazai and Chuuya while working for the mafia, and your reputation preceded you as someone to be feared and respected.

Because of your dangerous reputation, it took some time for you to open up to Dazai and Chuuya, but once you did, you found that they were the only people who truly understood and accepted you for who you are.

Dazai is always teasing you, flirting with you, and trying to make you laugh, while Chuuya is more reserved and quiet, but he always has your back and is fiercely protective of you.

You have your own unique dynamic with each of them: with Dazai, you share a deep intellectual connection and love of mischief, while with Chuuya, you share a more emotional, intense bond.

Communication is key in this relationship, and you make an effort to check in with each other regularly to ensure that everyone is happy and comfortable.

Jealousy occasionally arises in the relationship, especially on Chuuya's part, but you always make sure to address it and reassure him of your love for him and for Dazai.

You have a special whistle that you use when you're about to finish someone off in battle, and both Dazai and Chuuya find it simultaneously terrifying and arousing.

You all have a deep appreciation for the macabre, and you often spend nights discussing death, the afterlife, and the meaning of existence.

Despite the fact that you're all involved in the dangerous world of the mafia, you find solace and safety in each other's company, and you know that as long as you have each other, you can handle anything that comes your way.

𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨 :

You, Dazai, and Chuuya had been working together for a few weeks now, and while you were still hesitant to open up to them completely, you found yourself slowly letting your guard down. You had always been considered dangerous enough to warrant others keeping their distance from you, but with Dazai and Chuuya, you felt like you could finally be yourself.

One night, the three of you were out on a mission for the mafia. You were all dressed in black and carrying out your tasks with the same silent efficiency you always did. It wasn't until you were finishing off the last of your targets that you let out a whistle, a terrifying sound that echoed through the empty warehouse.

Dazai and Chuuya looked at you with a mix of awe and fear in their eyes. "What was that?" Dazai asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That's her way of signaling that she's about to finish someone off," Chuuya explained, his eyes never leaving you.

You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn't feel self-conscious. Instead, you felt powerful, knowing that you had the ability to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. You turned to face Dazai and Chuuya, and they both looked at you expectantly.

"You're something else, you know that?" Dazai said, a smirk on his face. "I think I'm starting to understand why people are so afraid of you."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, and you could see the relief in Chuuya's eyes that you weren't angry with Dazai's teasing.

"Let's get out of here," Chuuya said, breaking the tension. "I don't want to stick around any longer than we have to."

The three of you made your way out of the warehouse, and as you walked side by side, you could feel the closeness between you growing. It was as if your bond was strengthening with each mission you completed together.

When you arrived back at your safehouse, you all collapsed onto the couch in the living room, exhausted but elated at a job well done. You found yourself sandwiched between Dazai and Chuuya, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through your chest at the sight.

"Hey, I have an idea," Dazai said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the three of you. "Why don't we all do something together tomorrow? Like a date, but for the three of us?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes at Dazai's suggestion, but you could see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What kind of date?" he asked, his voice teasing.

Dazai shrugged. "I don't know, we could go to the amusement park or something. Or we could just hang out here and watch a movie. The point is, we'll do it together."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at Dazai's words, and you knew that this was the start of something special. It wasn't just about the mission anymore. It was about the three of you, together, as a team. As something more.

As you settled in between Dazai and Chuuya, ready to fall asleep, you knew that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. With them, by your side.

Do Not Copy or Plagiarize Any of My Works. Reblogs Are Very Appreciated.

[moonyinthestars]

This is getting way deeper than I thought it would !!! I absolutely love the way magic is described here, and how all characters are shifters. And Alejandro and Rudy's protectiveness has me weak. I have a feeling that there will still be a while before things start to get better !

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; as dawn breaks, you tend to sybil and the remains of the wreckage left by the attack. determined to root out the force behind this dark chapter, you turn to an old friend for guidance.

★ warnings; slight descriptions of injuries and blood

☆ story masterlist

Morning breaks with the first faint light creeping through the cracks of your blinds, and the relentless scratching at the door finally ceases. Exhausted but relieved, you uncurl from your spot on the floor, where you spent the night huddled with Sybil. Her breathing is steady now, though a quiet whine escapes her occasionally. You gently stroke her white fur, matted with dirt and dried blood from the night’s violent encounter.

You rise cautiously, the movement tugging at the pain in your ankle. Sybil stirs beside you, lifting her head as if sensing your intent. Before focusing on her, you steal a peek through the blinds. The street below lies empty, no sign of any lurking danger. Then you check outside your apartment door, and there too, it's empty.

Reassured for now, you bend down, wrapping your arms around Sybil and lifting her up with a pained grunt. The adrenaline that had fueled you the night before has vanished, leaving only raw, trembling determination. Step by agonizing step, you make your way down the stairs, each descent slow and labored, every creak of the wood magnifying the weight of your exhaustion.

The shop is unrecognisable.

Shelves that once held carefully labelled jars and vials are toppled, their contents spilled across the floor in a kaleidoscope of shattered glass and stained herbs. Your cauldron lies overturned near the counter, its contents long soaked into the wooden floorboards. The air still smells of the burnt potion that had scorched Ghost’s skin.

The destruction around you is overwhelming, but Sybil’s soft whine pulls you back to the present. You set her down gently on a comfortable patch of floor, cleared from the chaos.

You scavenge what’s left, finding a few unbroken jars of salve and bandages hidden under the counter. Working methodically, you tend to Sybil's wounds, cleaning and wrapping them with as much care as your shaky hands allow. She remains still, enduring the discomfort with quiet patience.

Once she is cared for, you turn to your own leg. Your ankle is swollen and caked in dry blood, bruised from where Ghost had dragged you across the floor, his claws tearing into your flesh. You bite your lip as you clean the puncture wound. Wraith poison. It seeps slowly into the bloodstream, and if not treated, it can be lethal. You rub a poultice into the marks and wrap your leg tightly, knowing it will take time to heal, but at least it’s no longer a death sentence for either of you.

As you move to clean and pick up the remains of your shattered apothecary, every movement feels like an effort. You work slowly, but you push through, driven by the need to restore some sense of order.

While sweeping debris near where Ghost had writhed in pain, you freeze. Embedded in the floor, glinting faintly under the dim light, is one of Ghost’s nails, sharp and black, splintered into the wood from his violent struggle. You kneel down, inspecting it closely—its edges are jagged, coated in dried blood, and it radiates an eerie, dark energy. Carefully, you take a cloth and extract it.

Holding the nail in your hands, an idea begins to form.

You know of someone who can and will help. You swallow hard, the decision settling heavily within you. She’s not someone you reach out to lightly, but this time… there’s no other choice.

. . .

You leave Sybil resting on your bed, and only when her eyes flutter closed, do you leave her side, the familiar warmth of her presence a small comfort in the back of your mind.

You gather what you need, moving with purpose despite the clammines in your hands. The bathroom becomes your makeshift altar, and though the tub is humble, it will serve.

Carefully, you sprinkle the salvaged herbs into the water, watching as they drift across the surface. Each herb was chosen with intent—rosemary for protection, thyme for courage, lavender for clarity. A handful of salt follows, grounding the mixture and cleansing it.

With a slow exhale, you press your own nail hard against your thumb with a flinch, allowing a drop of your blood to fall into the tub. The water shudders, rippling outward in response, as though alive to your plea. Then, you murmur her name.

The surface of the water begins to glow with a faint, silvery light, casting soft reflections on the walls. The air thickens, each breath becoming heavier as the veil between worlds trembles before finally falling open.

Slowly, deliberately, she emerges from the tub. The top of her head, crowned with dark, damp hair, breaks through first, followed by her sharp, regal features, her eyes pale pools. She rises until her neck and shoulders hover just above the waterline, her arms gracefully settling over the edge of the tub.

Her gaze finds yours, calm but penetrating, a knowing smile flickering across her lips as she studies your face. The familiarity settles comfortably in the air between the two of you.

"Thou art troubled, mine old friend," she speaks, her voice a soft echo in the space. "What darkness doth plague thy heart?"

Her presence, while comforting, still commands your respect. You were taught from childhood to call her name only when truly needed, for she was an ally to your bloodline, but not a spirit to be called upon lightly.

Her eyes fix upon your battered state. “Thou art a sight most grievous,” she says, her voice rich with the cadence of old English. “Fear gnaws at thy bones, and pain hath left thee ragged, hollow. Wounded, indeed.”

You breathe deeply, pulling yourself together as you lift the cloth-wrapped object from your side. Silently, you offer her Ghost's nail, dark and deadly. Her gaze sharpens as she accepts it, her slender fingers turning it over in quiet, focused examination.

“Reveal to me the source of his madness,” you plea, “and of the others’. Please, show me what’s driven them to this.”

She studies the nail, tracing its jagged edges. Finally, she speaks.

“Aye,” she begins, voice grave, “thou seeketh the truth behind his descent. Yet, be warned: the truth is not what it seemeth. She, the one they pursue—she is not untouched, not unscarred by the same darkness. Though she is the centre, she is not the cause. She is but human, and another hand doth shape this tale.”

Your pulse quickens, mind racing as her words sink in. Leah—she was a source, but not the architect of this obsession. Her eyes hold yours, unreadable but certain.

“There is a design here, a careful orchestration. Another, cunning and cloaked, doth play upon thy pack’s nature, bending their hearts to obsession, their minds to ruin. This plan hath taken root already; what was begun is now well underway.”

Leah is as much a victim in this as the pack—only a piece in someone else’s scheme. "Who?" you ask, desperation slipping into your voice. “Who would do this?”

Her expression softens, but she shakes her head. "The shadow hath yet to reveal itself. But know this: as long as the threads go unseen, the madness shall deepen. The one who drives this seeks not thy destruction alone. Their aim is vast—boundless.”

With a slight tilt of her head, she turns back to you, holding the nail delicately between her fingers. She then extends it to you, resting it on the cloth. Her cool hand closes around yours, a silent reminder of the weight and danger that this fragment carries.

“Hold this close, child,” she murmurs. “For it may yet serve thee well. In times of shadow, such remnants of truth may be weapons against the dark.”

Then her hand releases yours, trailing up to your cheek with a tender, cool touch, thumb tracing a slow, reassuring line as her gaze holds yours, unyielding and steady.

“Do not let thy heart waver,” she whispers, voice soft yet powerful. “Thou art not so easily uprooted, nor cast aside by such an evil. Thy roots run deep, born of stronger stock than this darkness anticipates. Hold fast.”

Then, as swiftly as she’d come, she begins to sink back beneath the water, her fingers slipping from the edge of the tub, leaving you with more questions than answers. Alone in the dim light of your bathroom, each revelation settles like stones in your chest.

You’re not without fault either. You’d fed your own resentments, let jealousy twist your perspective until you’d unknowingly played into the hands of whatever force sought to divide and conquer. And that needs to end here.

With clarity finally settled on your mind, your thoughts turn again to Laswell. She’s always been the town’s first line of defence, and whatever is lurking here has crept under her watch. If anyone can help you make sense of things, it’s her.

With Ghost’s nail clutched tightly in your hand, you gather yourself and start moving. You leave Sybil behind, resting and safe as you focus on Laswell. It’s time to face everything—to confront whatever has been taking root here.

. . .

On the other side of town, Alejandro and Rudy moved through the quiet, pre-dawn streets, taking care of some early business that couldn’t wait for full daylight. Alejandro was scanning over the market supplies they’d been tasked to retrieve while Rudy jotted down some notes, the calm routine a welcome reprieve.

The usual scent of bread and spice mingled with the morning chill—until something sharp, unsettling, cut through it.

Alejandro stopped short, head tilting as his trained nose caught the unmistakable hint of blood. A slow tension crept up his spine as he recognized it, mixed with something familiar and wrong all at once His grip tightened around his gear, and he motioned for Rudy to follow.

They followed the faint trail toward the edge of the Rose District, its shadowy streets still cast in the muted dawn light. And there, half-shifted and sprawled against the stone, lay none other than Ghost. A mix of something matted his clothes, his form slumped but menacing even in partial human form.

Alejandro moved closer, but as Rudy reached out instinctively to help, Alejandro’s hand shot out, stopping him. “Espérate,” he hissed, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he zeroed in on Ghost's red-stained neck and knuckles. The fury building within him found confirmation in the scent lingering on the half-wraith's skin—it was unmistakably yours.

“It’s her blood,” Alejandro said, voice low and furious.

Rudy’s eyes widened, and before either could demand answers, Ghost’s eyes shot open, wild and feral. With a snarl, he surged to his feet, tearing away from their reach and disappearing back into the shadows, leaving only their unanswered questions and a trail of dread in his wake.

Rudy turned to Alejandro, jaw clenched. "We need to check on her. Now."

Without hesitation, they both turned on their heels, abandoning their morning duties. The journey back to your shop felt longer than it should, the urgency of what they might find gnawing at both of them.

The strange behaviour of the pack had lingered at the edges of Alejandro's thoughts. He remembered how odd they’d been the last time he and Rudy had delivered your tonics and potions to them—unsettled, like they were barely holding themselves together. He cursed at his carelessness. Whatever had been brewing beneath the surface had clearly boiled over, and now, you were caught on it dead and centre.

When they finally arrived at your shop, the destruction greeted them like a wound left open. Clearly someone had attempted to clean up, but shelves remained overturned, dried patches of blood staining the wooden floor. Alejandro could smell Ghost’s all over. But you were already gone. His eyes flickered upstairs when a soft whine from upstairs reached his ears.

“Sybil’s here,” Alejandro murmured. Rudy followed him cautiously up the stairs, where they came face-to-face with the door of your apartment—warded heavily with a spell they both recognized. It allowed only those with genuine intentions to pass.

A moment passed before the door clicked softly open, just enough to let them through. They ventured deeper inside and into your room, where the found Sybil laying in your bed, her head lifting as the pair approached. Her intelligent eyes locked with their, and though she couldn’t speak, her exhaustion told them everything.

"Pobrecita (Poor girl)," Rudy sighed, eyes soft as he looked at the injured familiar.

Alejandro, as a Perro Negro (Black Dog), possessed a bond with spirits, especially those of dogs or wolves. He knelt by her side, hand resting gently on her fur. Their connection deepened, and in the quiet of the room, Sybil communicated what she had witnessed. Through her thoughts, he saw the chaos that had unfolded—the fight, the terror, the injury. And most importantly, he saw where you had gone.

“Se fue a buscar a Laswell, (She went to look for Laswell)” Alejandro said, standing, his voice heavy with understanding. “That’s where we need to go.”

banner credit

[rapturously]

✠⠀༷ ゜𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

regarding regulations and writing themes

THEMES: macabre , erotic , literate-novella.

┊ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 . . .

smut, smut and fluff, gore & violence, darker subject matters, porn with plot, porn without plot, female reader, afab reader, dubious consent, somnophilia, size differences, choking, breeding kink, pet names, experienced reader, inexperienced reader, dom/sub dynamics, predator/prey, capture/captive, bondage, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, monsterfucking, legal age gaps, bloodplay, knifeplay, threesomes, poly!relationships, voyeurism, vanilla smut, bloodplay, waxplay, inappropriate use of magic, rough sex, vanilla, loss of virginity, different positions, dirty talk, semi-public / public sex, outdoor sex, anal sex, risk of getting caught, etc . . .

┊ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 . . .

non-con/r*pe, necrophilia, only fluff, only slice-of-life, male reader, others original characters, incest, age play, little play, watersports, scat, gore, sexual abuse, su*cide, self-harm, domestic abuse, racism, homophobia, any harmful kinks/fetishes.

➺ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥.

much of the material that I write about on this blog is often dark, gross, and/or graphic. just because I write about certain topics does not mean that I, as a writer, believe it’s okay or morally right. I am not responsible for what media you choose to consume.

➺ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐬.

much of my character portrayals are a valiant attempt to remain as loyal to their canon counterparts as possible. however, I do implement my own headcanons and alterations as I see fit. please be conscious of this when reading my content.

➺ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

any unwarranted hostility, drama, rude or condescending comments, and/or hate isn’t tolerated on this blog and will result in being blocked. any racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc. will not be tolerated and will be blocked accordingly. this is a safe space and kindness is paramount.

➺ 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬.

while likes are kind and appreciated, reblogs and comments are the core of what helps motivate an author. reblogs help facilitate traction towards an author’s work and comments show that you, as a reader, enjoy what the author wrote! please support your writers! spam reblogging, spam comments, span likes, etc. are all welcome!

[prof-ramses]

Ramses Recommends: The nostalgically chipper frights of Necro Nancy 64

Welcome back!

This time around I have something more substantial for you all.

Necro Nancy first came around as a comic on it's creator's newgrounds, which can be found here

Since then, the same newgrounds as well as Macabre's youtube channel have become home to a series of retro game styled animations following the titular revenant and her friends' antics in the monster filled city of Necropolis.

If you're a Spooky Month fan, or have an interest in low poly stuff in general, you'll find plenty to love in this series. And with it's 3rd episode already in (early) production, there's plenty more to come.

Should you be interested, I suggest viewing the series before continuing.

So, for those who came back, or didn't even leave, Let's dive a bit further into what makes this gem click!

Firstly, Nancy herself. She's a well rounded protagonist, being able to work as both a source of comedy and as the voice of reason with both Ghoulia and Renwick. Her simple design combined with her expressive animation helps cement her as the core of the series.

Meanwhile, Ghoulia and Renwick act as great foils, complimenting Nancy as a character in there own ways.

Ghoulia being somewhat dismissive while also trying to hide how much she cares for Nancy makes their interactions a lot of fun, her voice acting also makes her very entertaining in her own right.

Renwick's know-it-all attitude paired with his impulsive nature makes him the most unpredictable of the main cast, which is also what makes him fun.

Lastly, Necropolis is a great setting in potential for stories and even lore. It's also stylistically rich with both the n64 aesthetic and the actual designs of the individual locations, making for a very captivating experience.

And there you have it, a brilliantly made and criminally overlooked series with a unique way of blending together many familiar elements into something with a very distinct and thoroughly appealing.

If I were you, I'd keep a loose eyeball on this ;) Thanks for reading!