#poor sweaty creature

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru absolutely baby talks you when you’re sick.

not in a mocking way. no. this is full-blown softie satoru, disgusting levels of wife guy activated, baby voice on max, coddling you like you’re the most precious, fragile little thing in the universe—and not because he thinks you’re weak, but because it’s the one time you let him get away with it without putting up your usual walls.

because you’re sick. hot forehead, flushed cheeks, big watery eyes that blink up at him like you’re seeing god—or worse, like you might actually cry if he leaves the room. like you need him. and honestly? that does something to him. wrecks him, even.

and you do need him. you’re fevered, shivering, curled up in bed in one of his oversized shirts, your hair a mess, nose stuffy, brain thoroughly fried. your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but can’t be bothered to try, lips parted in a weak sigh as you breathe through your mouth. your usual bratty, mouthy, too-proud-for-help self? gone. obliterated. absolutely bulldozed by the flu. all that’s left is a miserable little lump of a wife who clings to his sleeve like a koala and mumbles, “’toru… i feel like a soggy towel…”

his whole body stills. there’s a twitch in his brow, like his heart has physically clenched. his lips part, just a little, before curling up in the softest grin. eyes soften behind pale lashes—just a hint of red at the corners from how tired he is too—but none of that matters. not when you’re looking up at him like that. the corner of his mouth tugs upward, not in amusement—but in something far gentler. reverent, even. and then god. he melts. instantly. his heart shatters into a million pieces and reforms just to explode again.

“awww, my poor widdle baby,” he coos, already pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. his breath is warm, his nose brushing yours. “does my soggy towel need her soup? wanna be spoon-fed by the hottest nurse in the world?”

you don’t even roll your eyes. you nod. actually nod. sluggish, dazed. and then flop into his arms like dead weight, forehead nudging his neck, skin hot against his collarbone. you let him hold you like you’re made of glass.

he almost cries. really. because you’re letting yourself be coddled. cuddled. taken care of. no sass. no biting remarks. just tiny, pitiful sniffles and pouty faces and your arms wrapping around his waist like he’s your anchor. like you don’t want him to go anywhere. like you can’t function without him.

and satoru eats that up like it’s a feast.

“you want juice, angel? how about some water? apple slices? forehead kisses every ten minutes? medicine with a kiss as a chaser?”

“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.

“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.

he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.

he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.

“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.

his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”

“you’re lying…”

“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”

there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.

“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.

“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.

his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.

“louder.”

“toruuuuu… it’s you…”

the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”

“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”

he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”

his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.

he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.

you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.

“what was that, baby?” he whispers.

“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.

his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.

he kisses your temple and you go quiet.

and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.

he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.

and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.

he leans down again, voice barely audible now.

“rest up, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your clammy forehead. “you’ll feel better soon. and then i’ll go back to being emotionally bullied by my beloved wife.”

[krawdad]

I'm amazed that Disney spent all this time and money developing this conversation chain system, then mapping that to hand gestures and teaching this sign language to cast members, ultimately to get stormtroopers to be able to verbally interact with disneyland guests. When like. You could just put a mic in the helmet. You could have a voice actor off in a room somewhere watching from a monitor like some kind of turtle talk with meatspace stormtrooper. Then also they just sort of dumped it all after covid anyway.

[iceemochaa]

I'll Taste You First Then Devour You Whole Later

Remmick X Reader

Summary: You Come home late at night from a party, Unaware that a stranger is following you. Too bad he wont get a warning to what's about to happen. A creature that stalks your home and calls you "Mine" doesn't like it when people try and take what belongs to him.

A/N: It took me 4-5 Days to write this with pure determination and horniness. Thank you to my Remmick’s Freak writers room that showed me that life is truly worth living if Remmick gets to take you in the forest, added with drool and spit swapping. If you notice anything missing in the tags pls don’t be afraid to let me know! If you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't :)

Warning : MDNI, No use of name or Y/n, Reader isnt described, Blood, Slight Blood Play, slight Predator/Prey, Female Reader, Murder, slight sexual harassment (mentioned), Spit eating (with Blood), Possessive!Remmick, choking (slight), Humping if you squint, Remmick Drools as usual, Cursing, Drool Eating, Stalking (mentioned), Remmick is greedy asf (who could blame him?),

Word Count: 2.6k

 He just killed someone. 

A man who was too busy trying to take what wasn’t his.

You were walking home from a party. Having caught wind of a new Juke joint opening, it only made sense to check it out. You and your merry band of friends who were bursting with excitement got ready that same day - picking out an outfit to wear, makeup that matched. Soon the opening hour was upon you. 

The place was nice, with lights suspended on balconies and a stage filled with instruments of all kinds. The Music was felt deep into the soul and the people who got in knew how to have a grand ole time. You danced and danced until your feet hurt, until your skin got all sweaty and your voice raspy from singing and hollering all night long. Once it got too late the crowd started to die down; People running to get home so they could wake up and catch the early morning. 

Once the music finally started to slow down and the crowd got smaller, You figured it was also time for you to go. So, you bid your friends a farewell. One of them offered to walk you home but You declined. You figured since it was too late nobody would be around, wondering and lurking in the night. Well, maybe except for one but that was an entirely different thing. 

He should have known better than to mess with women walking at night, alone. 

Especially women who have guard dogs waiting for them at home. 

You’re pinned down on the floor . Remmick touching all over you, marking his territory once more because some poor old bastard couldn’t read the “do not enter” sign properly. They got what they wanted. What they deserved. Now there’s multiple large, crankled, slash's deep into their chest, blood pooling from the wound. Their neck has been completely ripped off - the large organ of skin and muscle standing a few feet away from your face but you didn’t care. Not when Remmick was too busy making sure every inch of your body smelled like you again. Like him. 

If an unsuspecting viewer were to walk by they would have thought a rabid dog was mulling you to death. The scene was chaotic and obscene. A dismembered body a few feet away and a poor victim being ravaged by a beast. They would probably scream and shout for help, Ask if you were okay but nobody was coming for you. They never did. 

Not when He was around.  

In a situation like this you would have fought him off. Maybe Use anything to your advantage, grab a rock that was wedged by the tree, take the lonely branch on the side and use it as a weapon -  Like normal people would do to fight off a normal guy but he was not normal. Something that was entirely impossible to be and yet he was. 

“Remmick slow…slow down!” You cry out, gripping Remmicks shoulders for support when he licks a long, fat, strip up against your neck. It's late in the night, nothing but the cold breeze rattling the trees and startling a few birds. The dead stranger almost got you, almost had his way with you. He grabbed you from behind while you were a few feet away from your porch, pulled you close until your body was flushed against his and touched you. Wandering hands searched your skin and mouth pressed against the back of your neck. You screamed, trying your best to pull away from him, tossing your body from side to side but it was short lived when he shoved you towards the ground. 

“Quit it bitch! There aren't anybody up at this hour.” he chuckled, getting down on his knees to forcibly turn you over to your back. 

He wanted to get a real nice look at you, too bad you were going to be the last thing he ever saw. One of the things he ever saw. The moonlight shined against his face and you noticed that he looked familiar. You've seen him before, at the juke joint. He was drowning drink after drink but was short lived when he got kicked out for touching one of your friends. You remember cursing him out, screaming and shoving him out the door along with the bouncer who took notice. He was pissed, arguing that your friend asked for it. 

How stupid can men be? 

If only he had noticed that a creature lingered in the shadows of your porch. One that didn’t take too kindly at having their property be trespassed. 

“Remmick-”

“Can’t, busy. Need you to get rid of that stench you have.” Remmick says, getting in between your legs, in that comfortable position he always liked to be in , making sure his body was close enough. Remmick moves to press his face into you, rubbing his nose against the deep hollow of your neck. Pinning his body fully against your own. You can’t help the way your body reacts, the way he’s got his full weight  on you; Like he wants to get under your skin. No, he Needs to get under your skin. His hands are everywhere - His claws scraping lightly against your arms, legs, anywhere that showed too much skin. Areas that were infected by hands that didn't deserve to touch you. 

He still wasn't satisfied. 

“Remmick you killed someone!” you shout, Shoving his chest back to get his full attention. He didn't budge, he never does.  Too strong, ancient, powerful but he did stop to take you in - leaning back on his hunches,  Eyes searching your form. You weren't sure if he was inspecting you, eyes trailing down slowly and then snapping back to your face. He was frozen, quiet until after a few minutes, When the wind stopped blowing and the cicadas went silent. 

“Does it matter?” 

Your brows raised, confused at first. “Does it matter?...” you quickly repeat after, annoyance building on your tongue, “Yes! You can't have too many people up and go missing in this area cause you get all-”

“He was gonna hurt you…” he growls, a cold bloody hand reaching out to caress your face. His hand is bigger than before ; Longer, claws sharper , Like a predator. An elongated thumb glides against your cheek bone. His hands were rough, frigid and yet he held your face so softly. Careful, like you were fragile glass. 

“He was gonna take you…take what's mine away,” the pad of his thumb rubs along the bottom line of your lips, leaving a small bloody trail, “He was gonna die anyway.”

“...How…How would you have known that?” 

He sneers at your question, Disappointed that you would ask that but most importantly question him. He sighs loudly at that. Fine, he’ll entertain you, for a bit. He doesn't say anything for a short while but he does take note of how you watch him, eyeing the way he pokes his tongue out to lick the presence of blood away on his teeth. He finally decides to speak again. 

He whispers low so only you could hear him as if someone else was among the two of you. There was, he just wasn't alive to hear it. 

 “I could smell it on him,” he says, “Death.”

 The pad of his thumb gets replaced by a long claw, slowly dragged against your lip. He was careful once more; Careful not to prick the soft skin but his eyes were sharp, Dilated until there was nothing but red.  

It sends a shiver down your spine; How sinister he could look and yet moved in a way that was gentle. Ever so considerate of how human you are but soon after he adds in, interrupting the hypnotizing hold he has on you with a hint of amusement on his breath, “I just sped up the process.” 

Then a sudden grind of his groin against your clothed bundle of nerves sends signals to your brain. A pulse that Remmick hears all too easily. 

“Fuck- darlin’, I’m gonna make sure everyone knows you belong to me.“ he mutters under his breath. Talking more to the air, a warning to the universe. A threat.  A small squeak escapes your lips when he reaches under your skirt to bunch them up against your stomach, Warmth bubbling up in your cheeks. 

“W-What… What are you doing?” You ask with a shaky breath. 

Remmick looks at you with those too bright, intense, glowing eyes. Eyes that always manage to pick you apart and somehow put you back together again. He truly did look like a beast right now; drool hanging from his chin, hair rattled, clothes battered from the stranger trying to fight him off and those razor sharp teeth open to the midnight air. He doesn't say anything but his breathing is rapid, low, inhuman sounds deep in his chest. 

He sets his eyes on you, desiring building into his chest,  deciding that what he was going to do was going to be his life's goal. You feel a cold, wet, palm glide up against your thigh and you jolt. 

“Remmick!” you gasp, your leg shifting to the side but his strong grasp holds you down. 

“Shhh, baby, almost done…Just gotta get here too.” 

Blood is dripping from the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked unto your face. Hovering over your body,  There’s so much blood and drool dripping from his mouth that it starts to pool in between the crevices of your breast. 

“I should’ve known other fools would try and take you away,” he grunts, “Look what you did - what you made me do.” 

“Remmick please…” you whine. 

He pushes up against your body. Grinding his hips down hard, making sure you can feel him through his pants. “You liked that, didn’t you? Me, ripping a man apart cause he tried to take what’s mine?”

You look over once more at the corpse a few feet away. The look of terror still glazed over the man's eyes. The scene wasn't pleasant  to watch, to see a man be torn apart right in front of your eyes but the thought of a creature like that protecting you? Watching over you. Wanted you. How could you ever be ungrateful? Sure, it scared the hell out of you but all of that was forgotten. Head filled with nothing but Remmick and how much he wanted to devour you under the stars. 

If you admit that, tell him you liked it when he killed for you, how you liked that you were the one who made him like this. Well, let's just say you wouldn't make it out alive. So you lie…or atleast try your best. 

“N-No..” You turn your head away so you won't have to look in his eyes, have him see the telltale signs of a lie forming, yearning bleeding into your soul but he pulls your face back. A smirk playing on his mouth. 

“Look at me, sugar.” he says, “Dont lie-”

“I'm not lying-”

“Yes you are.” Before you have time to form another poor, fabricated excuse, Remmick moves with precision. His entire hand wraps around your throat, His claws digging into your skin and yet it did not puncture the vitals or muscles underneath. Careful. Your body leaps, not out of fear- No, far from fear but something much more terrifying.

Excitement.

 What's even more frightening than the thought of you liking what he's done, what he's currently doing to you, is the fact that he knows. 

“Look at the way ur squirming under me,” he laughs, “I can hear your heart racing.” He sits back, watching, observing. Loving the way your body reacts to him. Only him. 

“Tell me you want this,” He demands, “Or…I'll make you beg.” 

“Yes!” You say too loudly, too proudly. Embarrassment washed away with a strong passion to please. To be pleased. There was no use in denying it anymore, Eagerness building on your skin.  Remmick nuzzles his body back onto yours, his face tucked comfortably into your breast. He hums a low sign of approval, the sound seeps through his chest like a purr. Soon after a hiss flees your mouth when You feel a warm, rough, texture lap at the forgotten pool of blood and spit in between the crevices of your breast. His teeth scraping against your skin. He leans back up suddenly, the loss of contact almost makes you cry out. Desperate to feel him once more. Desperate to be wanted. 

He tucks his hand under your chin, lifting to view your face clearer. You looked beautiful like this. Under him, completely at his mercy. Like prey trapped in a predator's teeth. He wants more of you. 

All of you. 

“Open your mouth for me darlin’...” he says softly, nothing but adoration and need in his voice. 

Your body moves on its own, all logic and reasoning thrown out the window.  You obey him so easily, your autonomy completely lost to him. Your tongue lolls out, the cool breeze shrouding  the top of the muscle, anticipation building in your gut. Fuck, you wanted it . Wanted Him. Whatever he could give you.  You watch in a daze as Remmick pulls you closer, maneuvering your mouth right under his. He ghosts his open mouth over yours, slightly open, ready to drip warm trails of the substance right down your tongue. 

He can feel your thighs move to squeeze around his waist, a strong intensity blooming where he's still connected. He makes sure that he builds the mixed fluid along his tongue and lets gravity take its place. The taste was unpleasant and yet you wanted more. It comes out in thick, heavy, globs, flowing right into your mouth. The weight of it makes you gag but the ache you feel on your nerves only grows further. 

He sweetens the deal with locking his lips against yours. No permission needed to enter his tongue into your mouth so he could savor you, relishing the moment; Tasting his own spit, tasting the blood of the poor bastard who’s life was cut short. He tilts his head so he can get in deeper, push in closer, explore further. Your entire being completely, utterly, intoxicating . He makes sure to drag his tongue against the edges of your teeth, leaving nothing in your mouth untouched. The hunger only grows the more he consumes you. 

Hunger was an understatement. 

He was starving.

He only pulls away, reluctantly, when he feels you struggle against him. Your breathing completely fucked up and yet he didnt care. He made you like this, Debauched and panting against his lips; trying your best to catch your breath. He was going to ruin you, that was a fact. 

You think he's done when you feel him shift on his knees, like he was getting ready to scurry off to hunt some poor soul in the night once more. You should have thought better, Should have known better that he was only getting stirred on with every breathless moan and whimper you released into his mouth. 

“M’gonna eat you alive…” He says, the sense of Imminence in the air. Your eyes grow wide, danger prickling the hair on your skin. You should feel afraid, flight or fight should have kicked in and yet it doesn't. There's too many emotions running through you at this very moment; Fear, Danger but worse of all joy. Remmick uses his claws to drag them down your blouse, tearing the fabric in one go. Your chest and stomach are swiftly exposed to the open air. The sense of fear only spurs you on, heat pooling at your core. 

“When I'm done,” Remmick smiles inbetween, looking like a natural predator- scratch that, he Is a predator, “Nobody else will try and take you away from me. I'll make sure of it.” 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧⁺˚⋆｡ °✩₊˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Tag list!: @cherryxhaze

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hiii! I just read Mafia!Konig x introverted!Reader and it gave me this great idea! can you please do one where introvert!reader absolutely clings to konig since he is this big scary mafia guy so people are too afraid of him so don't try to talk to her out of fear of him.

as an introvert who absolutely does this i would greatly appreciate it!

Mafia!Konig is definitely your protector. It's how you two met, actually. You see, being an introvert is hard, but you manage to live just fine for a long time. Never a single problem, always moisturized and in your lane - it's just that your extraverted friends can sometimes be a bit of assholes who love pulling you out of your shell as you kick and scream. This is how you ended up squeezed between sweaty, dancing bodies at some expensive elite club that wasn't allowing regular stoners and instead opted for people who could afford cocaine and a minimal order of 300 euros per table. You don't think you ever drank something that was more than 15 Euro for something very bougie - but here you are, feeling uncomfortable. Awkward. Your friends left to flirt with some guys, and you would leave, but you haven't paid for your order yet, and you won't put it on someone else's tab. This is how you caught Konig's eye. A lamb to the slaughter, too innocent of a creature to simply ignore. He had to have you, press you in his arms and hope he'd be able to take you home without choking you and them threatening your poor body with his gun. He wanted something nice today, and protecting some awkward lady in the middle of her introverted breakdown is his one good deed for the year. You just wanted to go to some quiet place to recharge. Konig had already paid for a VIP room for the whole night, but now he just pushes you to it slightly, not caring that you're trying to stay near and find your friends. He says it's fine and he won't hurt you. You feel the outline of something metallic and sharp poking at your hip, so you decide to listen. Your dignity is not worth being stabbed, you think. He apologizes for being too harsh, and he looks a bit nervous. There is a mask hiding his face and you feel even more scared now - but he explains how he just wanted to make sure you're doing alright. He says he just wanted to help a pretty lady not be too overwhelmed with everything. He gives you something nice to drink and covers the tab for the entire table. He doesn't make you talk to him and instead allows you to examine his tattoos with poorly contained curiosity. He is nice for a dude who is definitely into some crime stuff. You just wished he didn't kidnap you later that night. It was kinda rude.

[party-snake]

First-aid

Sebastian x Fem! Reader

I highly suggest you play Pressure before reading this.

While hiding from Pandemonium, you get pretty scratched up. Sebastian patches you up.

Tw: Fear, blood, Near death experience, Almost fainting, Slightly suggestive(?), Praise

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

"Good, more data for Sebastian." You smile, picking up the files and putting them in the pouch he gave you. Peeking in the last desk drawer, you take the last usb drive you can find. "Okay, door 49. I hope Sebastian is around." Heat slow creeps to your face as you think of the sassy fish. 895 data sounds like just enough for a flashlight and a few other things.

You giggle lightly and walk towards the door. It slides open and immediately the lights begin to flicker. Fear sinks into your heart with it's metal claws and you dash for the nearest locker. That noise of the lights triggers your fight of flight, having done this so many times. Waiting a bit for the Angler to come, your thoughts are interupted by an ear piercing screech.

Pandemonium's gaping mouth is visible from the other side of the room and you jump, opening the locker and slamming the doors shut. It's presence is immediately clear as it stares you down from just outside the locker. You hold the doors shut as it slams into the locker, desperately trying to get to you. The gross sounds of the decomposing monster just outside the metal walls almost makes you gag.

The only sound you can hear is your own heartbeat as it rams into the doors. You look down and gasp as part of the locker has bent in on itself. 'Shit.' You mentally curse, knowing you only have seconds before the locker comes apart from the stress. It's eyes pierce into your soul, death staring you directly in the face.

Part of the metal comes apart, slicing into your right leg. Screaming bloody murder as the metal cuts through your leg like a knife through butter. The creature growls and gives up, leaving you bloody and sweaty. Your vision goes spotty as your arms release their death grip on the handles.

You start falling forward, the locker door swinging open. The concrete floor does nothing to cushion your fall as you make contact with it's cold embrace. Your arm takes the brunt of the fall and you groan in pain, flipping over slightly to assess the damage.

The metal of the locker is curved inwards slightly, your blood still visable on it. Your uniform is ripped from the ankle to half way up your thigh. It had taken most of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. It was definitely going to leave a scar. One to add to the pile.

You shakely get up, using a desk to steady yourself. Accidentally putting pressure on the sliced leg, you whimper. '050' the next door reads. Your vision is spotty as you cover your eyes with one hand. Your brain must be tricking you into thinking those are the eyes of the Eyefestation.

You hobble your way to the door and it slides open. An industrial light points towards a vent and you breath a sigh of relief. It flings open and his deep voice calls out to you. "Got something for you. Come here." You chuckle and limp towards the vent, getting on your working three limbs and army crawling your way towards him.

Your head peeks out from the vent opening and his light flickers on. "I just knew it would be you. Welcome back hun." He chuckles, as arms swinging out dramatically before he clasps his hands in front of him. "Hi Seb." You smile. Continuing out of the vent, your leg dragging behind you. "Woah, what happened there?" He gasps. "Um, Pandemonium." You put a hand behind your head.

"Now that won't do." He leans down and picks a first aid kit off the table. "Sit down right there. Don't move." Confusion is written all over your face as you do as your told, sitting down and trying not to put any unnecessary pressure on your leg. He flops down infront of you, one arm holding him up, the other holding the first aid kit. "Poor thing. You must've been so scared."

His hand comes up and caresses your cheek. You lean into it and sigh, nodding silently. His other arm lifts him up, wrapping around your waist and taking him with you. "You're extremely lucky I was right here." He chides, though his tone holds no actual venom. He sighs and leans back, placing you on his tail. You look back and notice his whale end blocking the vent entrance.

"Let me see that leg sweetheart." Leaning back, trying your best to lift it up, he gently grasps it in his clawed hand. His other hand trails up your leg and comes to the top of your pants. A small gasp escapes your lips and you whimper.

"Such a pretty noise. Can I take these off darling?" His voice is low and seductive, teasing, almost. Your cheeks flare up and you nod. "Good girl." He goes slow, taking off the pant leg on your non-injured side before switching to the next. As he begins peeling it off your leg you whine.

The tight swim suit rubs against your cut and you bite your tongue to avoid crying out. "Almost done love. Such a good girl." You look away, trying not to focus on his words. That proves difficult though. He pulls it the rest of the way off and discardes it beside him. "So. How did it cut you this badly?" He lifts your leg up slightly, investigating the cut. "The locker I was hiding in was broken a little bit. The metal cut me."

He tsks. "You should be a little more observant next time, you could be infected." He grabs the bottle of alcohol and applies it on a pad, wiping your cut. It stings, but not to badly. Must be the adrenaline. The guaze comes next, his hands wrapping them around the cut. Spots of blood peek through the gauze and he secures it with medical tape.

"There you go." He sets your leg down and you straddle his tail. "Thanks Seb. How much will that be?" You giggle. "Hm. 1,000 data." You laugh. "That's funny Seb." His hands wrap around your waist. "Oh no. I wasn't joking." Your giggles die out and you stare up at him. "Really?" His eyes are serious as he smiles down at you. "Really." You stare down. "I don't have-" His laughs cut you off.

"Come on love, you'd really think i'd charge you for that?" He wipes and imaginary tear and you flush with embarrassment. "I-I should get going." You say, and he hums. "Nope. You're not going anywhere." You huff. "But the crystal-" He silences you with a kiss. "The crystal can wait my love. You need rest." He booped your nose.

You looked away and thought for a moment. "Alright. But only for a few minutes." He nods and you lay down on his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as his voice lulls you to sleep. "Sweet dreams hun."

I decided to make another one sense you guys really loved the last one I made. The next one will be smut for you horny people. Stay tuned...

[theegyal]

Hush, [Annie x Smoke]

Chapter 7 : The Wife Is Me

8: 15 AM

Elijah stared at the child like she was an alien, an odd creature. His mind went blank. The baby looked somehow like Elias and him. However, the fire in her round brown eyes reminded him the ones he drowned into, yesterday's night : Annie.

Lois kept squirming in her mother's arms, reaching out, little fists shaking, calling out that word again and again

"Baba... Baba... Baba!"

Annie's throat tightened, went dry, heart falling down her stomach "Lois, hush—baby, no. Hush now—"

But Lois wouldn't. She twisted and turned, screaming, sobbing loud and frantic. Annie tried to shield her, arms wrapping tighter around her small body, but the baby fought back, eyes locked on Elijah. Both long watching each other for a while before the young twin reacted.

"Alright, alright"

Stack tried to ease the fire tension, aware of his brother's confusion. He stepped in, reaching for his niece. "Come here, baby girl," he said softly, sugar-coated his husky voice to appear less scary. He glanced at Annie with a confident nod, the woman smiled relieved, lending Lois. Stack lifted her easily,patting her back as he did it all his life. But, the little girl arched her back, let out a high-pitched wail and kicked.

"Nuh uh—nah—Baba!"

She beat at his chest with her tiny hands, tears running on her gummy cheeks like rain. Helpless, Stack kept rocking her, but it didn't matter. The little girl shrieked, pouting, her brows furrowed. She didn't want him.

Elijah blinked. His eyes moved between Annie and the baby, on repeat. Twice, then again and again. "What—what is she sayin'?" he questioned, voice trembling, fearing the truth.

"She—she is just a baby. I don't know what'—," Annie stuttered, still holding her arms out like she might catch Lois if she fell. "She just—she just sayin' anything, I don't know—"

Elijah didn't believe her. Not at all.

That baby can't be confused. She looked at him tenderly, lovingly, as if she knew him.

Lois reached again, face blotchy, gasping between sobs. "Baba!"

Elijah, completely drawn, advanced, hands awkward and unsure. "She ? I have to—hold her ?" He looked at Annie like she got the answers to every damn question crawling under his skin.

"I—" Annie lowered her eyes down, shaking. "I didn't tell her nothin', I swear...babies are just— I didn't—she don't even—"

Lois kept crying, miserably. Her eyes seeing the color of Elijah's soul. She had known him from the beginning, that man was her father. Couldn't he see hers ? Blood never lied.

Stack felt embarrassed for Annie. The poor woman must going through every kind of anxiety right now. The next second, he looked at his brother. "Try."

Elijah moved forward, chest tight, palms sweaty. He didn't know how to hold a baby. Never learned. His hands, arms came out stiff, mechanical. But the second Lois landed in them, her cries ceased, dropped into soft hiccups. She went quiet against his chest, like she'd been looking for that place all morning. All the months before. Since the day her eyes met the world.

Elijah's face wore an incredulous mask, thinking 'What the hell is this? Why she feel so damn calm in my arms? Why my heart beating like this? I don't know this child.'

Lois curled into his shirt, fingers bunching the fabric, letting out a shaky breath.

Annie's voice broke into the silence, sudden and too loud. "I'm sorry," she blurted. "I'm—I didn't mean for this—I didn't—Come inside, please. Just come inside."

8:30 AM

The house was quiet when Elijah walked in. Lois had gone sleeping in his arms, her tiny breath warm against his neck. Her fingers relaxed, no longer clenched.

Annie led the twins through the living room without a word, her back stiff, her hand trembling when she close the entry door.

"She—she's sleepin'," Elijah muttered, not knowing what to do.

"I'll take her," Annie said, moving carefully toward the man. She took Lois from his arms, pulled the nursery's door open and laid the baby down inside the crib. She kissed her forehead once, twice and pulled the blanket over her legs.

The living room were full of boxes, Stack noticed them. Curious, he abandoned his brother who was still sitting in sofa.

He crossed the hallway then stood at the baby room's doorway, arms crossed . He arched a brow, this space was also filled with boxes, luggages.

His eyes landed on a cardboard box near an armchair, then another down the dressing. A duffel bag sat half-zipped on a counter. He frowned.

"What's all this?" Annie turned to his voice, eyes tired. She didn't want hide her turmoil anymore.

"They kicking us out." Her voice cracked. "Foreclosure. The mortgage is in Elijah's name. I been payin', every month. At last, it wasn't enough."

Her shoulders sagged "I tried to talk to the bankers, but ain't nothin' I could do."

Stack exhaled hard "you should've told me. I got a big ass apartment." Sighing "For what ? If my family can't even live under a damn roof ?"

"I'm sorry" she simply replied.

8:45 AM

Back the living room, Elijah scanned his surroundings. Boxes. Paint peeling. Photographs - Him and Annie. Baby bottles on floor. A laundry basket halfway full. All of these felt familiar.

Something clicked.

A soft jolt ran through him, almost like a shiver. He stepped into the kitchen, like he knew the way, his hand brushing against the chipped table edge, his fingers dragging across the wood. He stared at the grand fridge, mouth parting. A flash of memory moved through the fog.

Him and Annie standing in a bank lobby, her hand looped in his, his name written big on a form. A loan officer sliding papers to sign. Annie was not smiling, her brows rather furious. He, in contrary was all teeth out, holding a shining key.

"I—" Elijah blinked, shouting"This house..."

Hearing the wailing voice of his brother, Stack rushed to the kitchen, followed by Annie. The woman dried her tears.

Both froze looking at him, Annie the first to move.

Elijah was supporting himself on the kitchen counter, gripping a paper. She saw it : the damn eviction letter.

"I remember that damn signature," he said suddenly, words tumbling. "The one from the bank—. You were yellin' Annie. You were angry and I—" His body jerked slightly, like something inside misfired.

He staggered back.

"Elijah?" Annie's voice rose alarmed.

"I said—I said I'd work—I'd work two jobs—told you bout' the army—"

His legs buckled. Annie cried his name, passed by Stack who folded close to his brother.

Stack caught him before he hit the ground.

Elijah's eyes fluttered, unfocused, mouth working but no sound. Sweat broke over his forehead. His whole frame trembled.

"Shit—he's having a seizure—" Stack shouted ,steadying his head. "Annie, get something please !"

She ran toward the shelf by the kitchen, where she put all her pharmaceuticals pills and bottles, her feet slip on the floor, she nearly fell but caught herself. Her hands shook as she grabbed the bottle : tranquilizers. She hated it. She hated the fact she needed to give him this. But right now, they were the only pills that might bring him back down.

Annie rushed back, scrambled to her knees, pushed Stack aside and lifted Elijah's face with trembling fingers. She delicately poured a little water in his mouth and slipped two pills between his lips.

"Elijah—Elijah—" She pressed her palms on his head. He clenched, hands twitching, breath ragged. 

Annie's voice broke. "Oh God, oh God—this my fault, I shouldn't—I shouldn't—"

"Elijah—Elijah—" she whispered,agonizing, desperate. She cupped his head, palms pressed against his burning skin. His jaw clenched. She kept caressing him, drawing strange lines and shapes on his face.

She murmured a chant, more like a prayer. Between three verses she paused to lament, then goes again.

"Oh God, oh God—this my fault, I shouldn't—I shouldn't—, should've accept it. No ! Lord please, not my Elijah, not again !"

"It's not your fault Annie." Stack said firmly "I called emergency, let's move him somewhere comfortable"

"No" Annie replied, her eyes red, burning of salty tears. She didn't look at him as she spoke, just focused on Elijah's twitching hands, his uneven breath, while humbly explaining "He had a seizure and it's not advised to move a body after experiencing it. It could lead to something worse. Since I gave him the meds, he will be stable for now—".

She brushed Elijah coiled afro, lulling him into her arms "INSIST ON THE LINE" she ordered Stack, her voice urgent  "Tell them exactly his health situation, what happened—he seizured, I gave him ***, he's unconscious but breathing. Make sure they know."

Annie fell apart in tears, again "Make sure they come help us. I beg you Elias"

11: 00 AM, Hospital

Lois was sleeping on Annie chest, Stack went done menacing every doctors passing by. These three were anxious. When they came hours earlier, the nurses congratulated Annie on her safety procedure, saying he will be fine and need rest. Although, it had been a time, they were waiting on this large, plain-white painted room. The smell of sanitizer assaulting their nose.

"You should have never come to the house" Annie hushed, low.

"If only I knew" Stack replied bitterly, "I just—"

"What ? Just what Elias ? Why were you all both on my porch?"

Stack smiled faintly,remembering the discussion he had with his big brother, yesterday night about Annie.

"He wanted a date," Stack said, chuckling under his breath. "You done put him under a spell again. Memories or not, he spent the whole damn night goin' on about how beautiful you were. How sweet your voice sounded to his ears. Said he could drown in the desert of your eyes."

Stack exaggerated the next words in a deep, mocking tone. "And he went like I just—I'm scared of ruinin' her marriage." Stack rolled his eyes. "Marriage," he repeated, sarcastic.

Then his voice softened again. "I thought maybe seein' his baby would knock some sense into him. Maybe it would unlock somethin' important. I wanted him to clutch double: a date with his lady, and a chance to see his daughter for the first time"

Annie lowered her chin on Lois little crown, mumbling "I miss him Elias. So, so bad !" snot leaking from her nostrils.

Stack looked down. He didn't know what to reply  to that.

She sniffed, eyes glassy, red. "It's like—he right here, but he gone again. Yesterday, he was holding me and today he's just layin' there somewhere in that damn hospital and I can't even hold his hand. Can't even tell him what I feel."

"He loves you," stack finally said  said plainly. "That man love you hard, Annie. He always did."

Annie blinked up at the ceiling, her throat clenching. "Then why it feel like I'm the one waiting for a miracle while he is at the edge of leaving, dead ?"

Before Stack could answer, the hospital's door swung open.

A tall, pale woman stepped inside. Blond straight her, pulled back neat, pearls on her neck, a thin gold wedding band glinting under the fluorescent lights.

She walked toward the counter and presented herself to the nurse : "I'm Olivia Moore. My husband had been admitted here."

Tag List

@thelifeoflagab @juniooox @tadjoa @shamansha @brownskincheyenne @freelandgoddess @Ib-xci @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @iammyownlover @stormynovashambler @summrsovrinterlude @prettygirl2800 @puffmamaa @harleycativy @jasssdee1 @itstayleigh @queenofklonnie22 @bigjh @tadjoa @Isc72 @forzaferrariii , @blxckberrie @avidreader73 @partylikemajima @lolalikesgames @ultralspblr @post-woke @jasssdee1 @lizbehave @rkiiives @underated345-blog @thefutureemmywinner @lestatthelioncourt

[cruise-in-your-glow-bus]

Spare prompts you say!

Creature coded Perpetua trying to court/flirt with a Sister of Sin but uhhhh he keeps accidentally scaring her. 😅

Don't know if its up your alley but I can't stop thinking about it.

He just wanted to give her a gift why is she jumping back in shock!?

Poor him, he doesn't know its an unusual thing to give!

What do women like?

V waits until his brother is well asleep to sneak into his new office, so overstuffed and golden-yellow it shines like the sun itself, typing in his request to the strange device and wincing as the too-bright screen returns a list of results.

There’s not much about being a human being that he instinctively understands, and what he does understand is so contradictory it hardly helps at all. The world is too bright, but the stage lights feel comforting. The sounds around him are too loud, but behind the snug fit of his in-ear monitors, the pulse of the beat rings throughout his marrow. People say one thing, then do another, but music is his constant.

And there is (as there always is, in times of emotional turmoil) a woman who has caught his eye, one who makes him pine, and yearn, and anguish, and yes, even step outside of his comfort zone.

Hence: The computer. The box full of answers. The oracle, his very salvation.

V reads the results and devours them, making a list of objects and ideas. Surely this will help him. Surely, even though his own language fails, this beautiful woman - so lovely, so bright-eyed and happy, with a smile that makes him want to fling himself off the roof of the bell tower and a laugh that makes him want to dig his way back to whatever hell he was drug out of in the first place - will understand what it is he means to convey.

Attempt #1 - Women Like Flowers

V waits for her with his hand wrapped around his gift, palm sweaty, dirt scattering on the marble floor. This is the best of the flowers in the gardens, because only the very best will suffice to show his admiration to her. Yet when she approaches (he’d know her voice anywhere; he hears it in his dreams) he only sees her eyes widen when he jumps out from the shadowed alcove. The scream she makes… she screams at him; he’s frightened her. Panic rushes in like the tide, and he hastily shoves the uprooted azalea bush at her before running away.

Conclusion - Women Like Flowers, but she does NOT.

Attempt #2 - Women Like Chocolates

V reconsiders. Though it nearly crushes him, he summons his courage travel into the nearby town during an early summer market day. Under a black parasol he slinks from tent to tent, looking for his quarry. There are baskets of summer fruits, which he buys, because he himself enjoys them. There are vendors selling wood-sculpted objects, things made of old forks and hubcaps, stained glass sun-catchers that glint in the light prettily, like hellfire. There is a booth that sells local whiskey, which tastes like hellfire. (He buys a bottle for the ghouls, to give them a little taste of home.)

There, at last, he finds an artisan chocolate maker. He buys two of the nicest boxes, tucks them carefully out of the sun, and returns to the ministry, leaving a trail of concerned citizens and fascinated children behind. Even though he left his paint off, to blend in, there’s absolutely no denying that a grown man in a metal half-mask and all-black clothing does make quite the impression.

Last time, he surprised her. That was, perhaps, a bad choice. This time, he leaves the chocolates outside of her door, waiting in the high shadows, perched on a nearby archway and watching until she finds them. His heart flutters with nerves and with longing, and when she appears and crouches down to pick them up it’s only then that he realized he… never put a name on the gift.

So she stands there, holding chocolates in her hands, looking left and right. She mutters something to the companion she walks with, something like: “…dairy in them. I can’t even try one! Do you want to take them? I have no idea how these even got here?”

V’s heart sinks as her friend hugs her happily, accepts the chocolates, and they part ways.

Conclusion - Women like Chocolates, but she does NOT.

Attempt #3 - Women Like Jewelry

No flowers, no foodstuffs.

He must not get this wrong.

He must put his name on it, too. (Stupid; he’s so stupid. Satan never made a stupider, more pathetic, more miserable, lovestruck creature than he!)

V asks the ghouls to make a simple golden grucifix for him. He sees her when she walks among the roses, knows she always bends to smell them. He knows she sometimes tucks flowers in her hair, and knows she prefers simple wildflowers even more than roses. So he does not have the necklace adorned with any gems at all. Just simple gold, to match the warmth of her smile, the soft light in his heart she makes him feel.

V holds the little box in his hands and waits for her after unholy mass. He can sing and dance in front of thousands, but simply speaking to one woman is beyond him, it seems.

There is no way he can find a way to talk to her, just her, without jumping out and scaring her.

And when she smiles at another one of the Brothers of Sin, when she gives him that laughter, V pockets the necklace and slinks away.

Conclusion - Women Like Jewelry, but She does NOT.

She does NOT like… him.

He’s the common thread, here.

He’s the flawed creation.

He should have known.

Papa is loved, but V is just a creature. Misunderstood, and misunderstanding everything. She owes him nothing, but it does nothing to soothe the pain in his heart. She is scared of him. She would run from him, if she could. If she knew he felt this deeply, she would run - and by Lucifer he would still want to chase her.

Pride wounded, V hides away in the little ruined temple out in the grounds. It sits on the border of the field and the forest beyond. He sits on the dirt with his back to a pillar, holding the necklace in his hand, debating whether to leave it in the dirt or fling it into the trees. He was a fool to even think someone as lovely as he would want—

“Papa?”

V sits up so fast he nearly cracks his head against the stone. It’s her.

“W-what…?”

“I was just leaving,” V lies. “Please, don’t let me…”

“I was looking for you.” She smiles tentatively at him. Outside, beyond the little shelter of the temple, it has begun to rain. “I wanted to thank you.”

V blinks up at her.

“One of the… one of the siblings was at the market the other day. She told me she saw you there, buying chocolates.”

“I… did?” He does not mean for it to come off like a question, but it does. “I did. Yes.”

She gives him a tentative, shy smile. “That was very kind of you. To leave them for me. I can’t have dairy, though. I’m, like, really allergic. It’s so stupid, I’m so sorry. If I had known—“

“You do not owe me anything,” V says, standing up, taking a little step back to give her distance, like one afraid of spooking some kind of beautiful, wild creature. “I am sorry to have been so thoughtless and inattentive.”

“It wasn’t thoughtless,” she says, tucking her hair back behind her ear and giving him a wider smile. There is a light in her eyes he cannot even hope to read. “It was really kind of you. I’m just sorry I couldn’t have them. Built wrong, I guess.”

“No!” At this, V steps forward, hesitating, holding himself back from rushing to embrace her the way he wishes, the way he has yearned to do for months, now. “No! You are built to perfection. Every bit of you is wonderful and perfect. If you wish it, I will find every cow in the city and offer it to Satan’s pyres to safeguard you!”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, no, that’s okay. I wouldn’t deny anyone else their cheese!”

Oh, he is a fool. Her smile is so lovely, her gaze so tender. He could take flight at this very moment. She could pierce him with a stake and he would thank her for penetrating him.

They’re both just staring at each other, with awestruck gazes equally, wonderfully matched.

And he remembers the necklace in his hand.

“I… had this made for… for you.” V opens his shaking hand and her eyes widen. Her gaze flicks up to his, then back to his hand, then to his eyes again. Her own are watery and full of wonder.

“Why?”

“It is a necklace,” V explains, holding the clasp, showing her. “You wear it—“

“No, I mean… why me?”

V has frightened her. He has misunderstood her. He has failed to show her how he feels and now he may never be able to express it unless he does so right now. So with the courage granted to him through prayer and fervent devotion to the Great Unmaker, he takes a breath, and confesses his feelings.

Needless to say, if any of the siblings look out the south-eastern window that evening and catch a glimpse of a formless shadow horror being ridden by a very naked Sister of Sin, or if any of them hear noises too unholy and erotic to be put to print, or if anyone up before dawn the next day sees a pair of figures hand-in-hand limping back to the main building, kissing every five feet, well, that’s between them and Satan, now, isn’t it?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Actually obsessed with your Satyr!König :((( He needs a pretty nymph that just freezes when she sees him, ‘cause! Look at him!! He’s tall, handsome, got a good layer of fat on his muscles AND a big dick with breeder balls!! Her friends and sisters all scatter but she doesn’t because he’s a catch!! And he wants to mate?!! Count her in! Reader ends up happy while the other nymphs watch with jealousy as she gets dicked down to her heart’s content 😌

CW: 18+ cockwarming, breeding kink, pure filth, horny, selfish König

Sorry but Satyr!König is just awful, thinking he's entitled to a pretty, soft nymph like you :( This big hairy beast thinks it's only natural that a nasty faun wants to grope a poor, sensitive, shy little nymph, only thinks satyrs and nymphs are a perfect match! It's disgusting!

You don't know what came over you, walking over to him and dismissing the other nymphs' shocked, hissed warnings. You were just mesmerized by that thing between his legs, wanting to try if it would fit inside you, but you almost faint when the gross faun stops what he's doing and shoots all his attention towards you. The cock pulses in his hand just from the sight of you, and you feel like collapsing as you weakly go and straddle this beast. Legs spread on both sides of a hairy stomach, the monstrous cock is jumping, eager to get inside you.

Satyr!König has no trouble with taking you right here in this glade while the other nymphs watch and whisper in horror and in awe. All your friends you just frolicked with are staring in shock as this beast bullies his cock into you, inch by throbbing inch. You're helpless and sobbing by the time he groans, long and hard, and bottoms out…

Gives you no mercy as he starts to pound into you, tries to paw and squish your tits with large clawed hands, has a vile smile across his face when he finally gets to fuck a cute, silly nymph. Solely thinks with his dick as he ruts you with a frenzy, almost bucking you off of his hips.

You have to take support from the sweaty, hairy chest as he uses you like you're just a warm, wet hole for him to finally spurt his seed into: and of course you're a much better option than the cold, wet ground! He's not holding back now that he finally got a sweet nymph to sit on his cock...!

He's possessed, growling and grunting like an animal in heat as he stares at your bouncing breasts, right there in front of his face as you try to desperately hold on with both hands, unable to cover your soft, jiggling tits from a hungry lustful gaze. Groans when you try to caress the fat horns on his head, whining he's about to cum, and you get so angry at him, you only just got started! :(

He goes still without warning, balls pressed fat against your bum, thick shaft shooting rude spurts inside you as he roars and shudders beneath you. There's nowhere to escape, he keeps you in place with two strong hands, making sure you won't try to wriggle away. You should've known that he's horrible; he's a satyr after all, and satyr men are blessed with long orgasms and thick, ample seed. You will be in so much trouble now, this one is such a big specimen, too...

When you complain that he was too rough and only thought of himself, he laughs darkly and promises to give you a wash and lap you with his tongue. He will make you scream, nice and pretty for him! Pats your butt like you're just a dumb little creature for him to use as he pleases.

Satyrs can't be trusted at all, he won't even let you off of his cock, clearly just wants to warm himself inside a cute, grumpy nymph :(

Tries the place where you are joined with his fingers, and rumbles with content when he feels how snug you are around him, the seed safe where it belongs and not leaking out if he keeps his cock stuffed inside you like this :((

[writerbugg]

Psychic In Training ::

Chapter # 1 Tourist Trapped

Wattpad

Code, Chapter 1 (You are here)

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. - Conan Doyle

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

'Ah... Summer break, the time for parents to ship their kids off to some negligent camp to terrorize some poor 20-year-old looking for some extra cash.'

'That is... unless you're with the Pines.'

You scream as the golf cart crashes through the billboard, roughly hitting the ground before speeding up again. Glancing backward, you could see the shadow of the creature chasing you, and it seemed to be getting closer.

"Dip!" You yell, "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" The boy in front of you shouts back.

"Uhh guys," The girl next to him peaks her head out of the cart, "It's getting closer!" She shouts panicked.

"We know!" You and the boy yell at the same time.

'My name is Y/n. The sweaty boy in front of me is Dipper, and the girl beside him about to puke is Mabel.'

'Now, you probably already know why we are fleeing from some imaginable horror in a golf cart. Well I'm going to tell you anyway, and I promise, it's for a completely illogical reason.'

»»————- 🪬 ————-««

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan, reaching over to silence the alarm. It's the first day of summer break, but your mother insists on the 7:00 AM wake-up call.

"Y/n! The Pines are here!"

You groan louder. Your mother found a loophole after promising not to send you to camp this year. Now you're left wondering what's worse: a summer at Camp Campbell or a summer with the Pines weird uncle.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you slip into a short-sleeve turtleneck sweater and a pair of shorts, moving as slowly as you can.

"Come on, Y/n! We don't have all day!"

Grabbing your backpack on the way, you rush downstairs, where you're met with Dipper's less-than-enthusiastic expression and Mabel's overly enthusiastic grin.

It can't be that bad, right? No crazy, out-of-control adventures.

With a resigned sigh, you follow the Pines out of the house, bracing yourself for whatever this summer has in store.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I'm pretty sure this is breaking some kind of child labor law," you mumble as you restock the blue and white pine tree hats. Off to the side, Dipper is polishing a jar of eyeballs while Mabel stalks some random customer.

"Mabe," you call out, giving her a pointed look. "Stop creeping on that poor guy and help me with these hats." Mabel just blows a raspberry at you, her focus undeterred. You turn to Dipper with a shrug. "Well, I tried. Your turn."

Dipper sighs, rolling his eyes as he sprays the jar again. "Mabel, I get that you're in your 'Boy Crazy' phase," he says, stealing a glance at the list in the customer's hand, "but you're kind of overdoing it on the 'crazy' part."

Mabel blows another raspberry, this time at Dipper. "Come on, you two!" she exclaims, bouncing over to join you. "This is our first summer away from home!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself, Mabe. I've been going to summer camp since I was five. It's not all it's cracked up to be-just a bunch of rules and chores." You gesture to the hats you're organizing. "This is just a slightly more illegal version of that."

Mabel crosses her arms, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Mock all you want, but I've got a feeling this summer's going to be amazing. In fact," she points dramatically to the door, "I wouldn't be surprised if the man of my dreams walked through that door right now."

The three of you turn to see Grunkle Stan walking in.

"Ha!" you snort, pointing at Mabel. "Dreamy enough for you, Mabe?" You continue laughing as Mabel cringes in disgust.

Stan strolls over, eyeing the three of you. "Alright, I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!" Mabel and Dipper shout simultaneously, making you groan.

"Uh, also not it," Soos chimes in.

"Nobody asked you, Soos," Stan deadpans.

"I know, and I'm comfortable with that," Soos replies cheerfully, taking a bite out of a chocolate bar.

Stan turns back to you and the twins. "Well, since one of you was slow, you're doing it." He dumps a stack of signs into your arms. "But you've got a habit of 'getting lost,' so you'll need a companion."

Scanning the room, Stan spots Wendy at the counter. "Wendy! Help Y/n with these signs!"

Without even looking up from her magazine, Wendy replies, "I would, but I... uh... can't... uh... reach them."

Stan mutters under his breath, "I'd fire all of you if I could," before turning to Dipper. "Alright then, let's make it eeny-meeny-miney..." He points at Dipper. "You."

"What?!" Dipper protests. "Grunkle Stan, I always feel like I'm being watched when I'm in those woods." He sneaks a glance at you, lowering his voice. "And Y/n gets weird in the forest."

You shoot Dipper a glare. "Hey! I can hear you, you know..." They ignore you.

Stan gives Dipper an unimpressed look, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, not this again."

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out 'beware.'" Dipper rolls up his sleeve to show Stan.

Stan squints at it. "That says 'bewarb.'"

You snicker. "Who knew mosquitoes were bad at spelling?"

Dipper lowers his arm, embarrassed, scratching at the bites. Stan shakes his head. "Look, kid, the whole 'monsters in the forest' thing is just a local legend made up by guys like me to sell merch to guys like that." He nods toward a sweating, grinning customer clutching a handful of merchandise.

"And Y/n's just... a little special. Nothing weird about it." Stan shrugs. "So quit being paranoid."

You huff, handing some of the signs to Dipper. "For the record, I can still hear you."

»»————- 🪬————-««

Hanging up the signs quickly became boring. Dipper was hammering nails into the trees so that you could hang the signs, he was muttering something about Stan not believing him.

"Could you not?" You snap, "All you do is complain, it'd be nice if you'd talk about something more pleasant for once."

Dipper shot a sharp glare your way. "Like you're any better. All you do is make snide comments and dump your work on everyone else."

You gasp, feigning offense. "When have I ever?"

Dipper's expression turned flat, clearly unimpressed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Who shrunk my sweater!?" Mabel wailed, holding up the now tiny garment. "I told everyone this was special cotton! It needs delicate care!"

You glance up from your magazine. "Pretty sure Soos did it," you answer before returning to your reading.

Dipper stared at you before his eyes flicked to the chore list on the wall, your name plastered next to 'Laundry'.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"That was one time." You defend yourself.

"No! It wasn't! That was one of multiple times!" Dipper said exasperated, placing down another nail and hammering it.

Clank

Both of you freeze, staring at the tree. Dipper taps the hammer lightly against the trunk again, confirming the odd sound. Lowering the hammer, he examines the tree closer, running his hand over the bark until he finds a small crack.

With a glance at you, he pries open the "tree."

A mechanical box with two switches sat within a hidden compartment. Dipper tests one of the controls, nothing. He flips the other switch, and next to you, a hatch suddenly opens in the ground.

You exchange a wary look with Dipper before cautiously peering inside the hatch. There, nestled within the earth, lay an old, thick book. Dust covered it completely, cobwebs clung to its edges, and millipedes skittered across its surface. The cover bore a gold six-fingered handprint, with the number "3" written on its palm.

You slowly reach for the book in the hatch, somewhat hesitate as a bad feeling sinks into your stomach.

A sharp shock runs through your hand as your fingers graze the surface of the book. The air around you seems to hum with a sudden energy, and a burning sensation spreads across your palm.

Something was drawing you towards the book, something ancient and powerful as if it had been waiting for you. The sensation sharpens, and a rush of images and whispers, flood your conscience.

"-/n! Y/n!!" With a sudden tug, you're pulled away from the book. Dipper, who was now in front of you, was gripping tightly onto your shoulders, a look of genuine worry on his face.

"What was that?" he asks, searching your face for answers. When you don't respond, he turns and reaches into the hatch, carefully pulling out the book.

He places it on the ground and opens it, eyes scanning the pages.

"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon." Dipper flips through the book, each page revealing bizarre creatures and terrifying monsters.

"What is all this?" Dipper whispers in awe. You lean over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a page that reads "TRUST NO ONE!"

"My worst fears have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before it's found. Remember, In Gravity Falls, you can't trust anyone."

You and Dipper exchange a tense look, a silent pact forming between you both.

"HALLO!!"

You yelp in surprise, falling backward.

Mabel was behind you, leaning over a rotten log. "What'cha reading, some nerdy thing?" she teased, trying to peek at what Dipper was hiding behind his back.

"Uh- uh- it's nothing!" Dipper stammers, shooting you a desperate look.

""Uh, uh, it's nothing!" What? Are you not gonna show me?" Mabel laughs.

Dipper looks at Mabel then the Journal then back at Mabel. "Let's... go somewhere more private."

Mabel raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs. She hops over the log and strides quickly toward you, extending a hand to help you up.

You offer her a grateful smile as you reach for her hand.

"What is that?!" Mabel exclaims, suddenly tightening her grip on your hand as she examines it closely. "When did you get a scar like this?"

Startled, you pull your hand back and stare at your palm, shocked to find a vertical eye seared into your skin.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I can't find anything," Dipper mutters, flipping through the pages with a frustrated sigh. "There's nothing about a mysterious vertical eye appearing on someone's palm."

The three of you have ended up in the Mystery Shack's resting room. You're seated beside Mabel, while Dipper paces back and forth, rifling through the Journal's pages.

"But still, this thing is incredible!" Dipper exclaims, holding the Journal open for Mabel to see. "Grunkle Stan thinks I'm just being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a hidden dark side."

You lean forward, a frown tugging at your lips. "Dip, this could be dangerous. That book gives me the creeps." You wave your hand in front of Dipper's face. "And look at what it did to me!"

Dipper bats your hand away, his expression annoyed.

Ding-Dong

"Who's that? More tourists?" you ask, glancing toward the door. Mabel grins at you. "Well, it's time to spill the beans." She playfully pushes over an empty can of beans. "Boop. Beans." Mabel beams, clearly pleased with her joke before continuing, "This girl's got a date! Woot woot!"

You and Dipper exchange incredulous looks. "Wait," you begin, "In the half hour we were gone, you managed to get a date who didn't run away from your... let's say, intense enthusiasm?"

Mabel nods enthusiastically. "What can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible."

Dipper looks like he's about to say something, but you cut him off with a grin. "You know what? You go, girl."

The doorbell rings again, and Mabel jumps up, hurrying to answer it.

Dipper sighs, slipping into the seat Mabel just vacated. "I can't believe I was right," he says with a grin, flipping open the journal. "Do you mind trying to touch it again?"

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Alright, but if I get possessed, I'm blaming you." Dipper brushes off your comment and passes the journal to you.

You carefully take it from his hand, bracing yourself for anything.

...

But nothing happens. No surge of energy, no eerie whispers—the journal sits quietly in your hands, completely still.

"What'cha reading there, slick?" Grunkle Stan asked as he walked into the room.

"Oh!" Dipper yelped, quickly shoving the book behind his back and snatching up the nearest magazine. "Just catching up on..." He glanced at the cover in his hand, "Gold Chains for Old Men?" He read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

Stan leans over Dipper's shoulder and grins, "That's a good issue."

"Hey family~" Mabel calls out as she drags some homeless-looking guy with her, "Say hello to my new boyfriend!"

"Ugh- ew-" you blurted out at the sight of the pale, disheveled boy, but quickly stopped when Mabel gave you a look, "Sorry, it was involuntary."

"Sup." The boy says.

"Hey," Dipper responded awkwardly. Stan, still focused on the TV, didn't bother to look at the boy. "How's it hanging?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How old are you?" you asked.

The boy hesitated, stumbling over his words. "Uh- um- fifteen?" he answered, uncertain.

"...You're definitely lying-"

"We met at the cemetery!! He's really deep." Mabel quickly interrupts your line of questioning.

Dipper narrows his eyes, suspicion clear in his voice. "So, what's your name?" he asks.

The 'teen' straightens up, a bit tense. "Uh... Normal... MAN!" he blurts out.

A faint warmth begins to radiate from the center of your palm, just enough to make you curl your fingers slightly. Unbeknownst to you, a soft greenish-blue glow flickers beneath your skin.

"He means 'Norman,'" Mabel chimes in, leaning closer to him.

You take another look at Norman. "Right... and is that blood on your cheek, Normalman?" you ask, pointing to the red liquid dripping down his face.

"...It's jam," he replies, a little too quickly.

"...Seriously?"

Mabel gasps, delighted. "I love jam!" She turns back to you and Dipper with a grin. "He's perfect!"

You shake your head. "Mabe, your standards... where are they?"

Norman turns to Mabel, "So, you wanna go hold hands or... whatever?" He asks, Mabel blushes shyly, "Oh, goodness!" she exclaims, casting a quick glance at you and Dipper. "Don't wait up for me!" she calls out, her voice light and excited as she hurries out the door with Norman.

As they disappear, the burning sensation in your palm begins to fade, replaced by a faint, lingering buzz. You lift your hand, studying the vertical eye with a puzzled expression.

»»————- 🪬————-««

"Of course Stan sticks me with the broom closet for a bedroom," you mutter, shuffling into the cramped space. As soon as you reach the bed, you collapse onto it with a weary sigh. Your gaze drifts to your hand, staring at the vertical eye on it.

"...What are you?"

KNOCK KNOCK

"Y/n!!" You jolt, startled by the sudden noise.

"Mabel'sdatingazombieandshe'sgoingoutonadatewithhimrightnow!!!" Dipper's frantic voice spills through the door in one breathless rush.

You quickly get to your feet and swing the door open. "Woah, woah, slow down, Dip-" You grab his shoulders, worry knotting in your chest. "Explain that again, but slower."

Dipper takes a couple of shaky breaths, but his panic is still written all over his face. "Mabel's dating a zombie, and she's going on a date with him right now!" Without waiting for a response, Dipper turns and dashes off, pulling you along with him.

"Huh!? Wait- how do you know?" you manage to ask as you stumble after him.

"Earlier today, I was following him to gather evidence," Dipper confesses. "When I reviewed the footage, I saw him lose his hand and then reattach it!"

"I knew something was off about that weirdo..." You mutter, following Dipper out of the Mystery Shack. Stan was standing in front of a crowd, showcasing some kind of rock face, which made it virtually impossible to get his attention.

Scanning the area for an alternative, your eyes land on Wendy, casually sitting in a golf cart. "Dip! Look!" you exclaim, pointing toward her. Dipper's eyes widen before he grins at you. "Nice catch, Y/N!"

Rushing over, you quickly approach Wendy, "Wen, Just the gal I need, you don't mind if we steal that cart and possibly wreck it right?"

Wendy looks at you, then at Dipper, then back to you, and shrugs with a lazy grin, tossing you the keys. "Just try not to mow anyone down."

With a smirk, you hand the keys to Dipper. "Let's go save your sister."

You and Dipper jump into the cart, ready to back out of the lot when Soos suddenly appears, blocking your path.

"Dude, it's me, Soos," he says with a grin, handing Dipper a shovel. "This is for the zombies." He then turns to you, passing you a bat. "And this is just in case you come across a piñata."

"Uh... Thanks?"

»»————- 🪬————-««

"I am seriously regretting giving you those keys" You shout as Dipper drives through the forest like a madman.

"Don't worry Mabel" Dipper shouts loudly, "We'll save you from that zombie!!" He accelerates faster.

"Help!" A shout resonated from off in the distance. You and Dipper gasp,

"Mabel!"

"Mabe!"

Dipper makes a sharp turn off the road, driving through the forest trying to follow the sound of Mabel's voice.

Soon, you both approach some kind of cave, and inside you can see Mabel surrounded by... gnomes?

Dipper slows down, parking once he's in the cave. "What the..." He mutters, "What the heck is going on here!?" he shouts, both confused and extremely underwhelmed.

A gnome runs up to you and hisses, prompting you to kick it.

"Dipper! N/n! Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes!" Mabel shouts as she bats away the gnomes crowding her, "And they're total jerks!" One particularly persistent gnome latches onto her hair, making Mable gasp in pain, "Hair- hair- hair-!"

Dipper stares at the chaos, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gnomes... huh, I was way off."

A faint warmth begins to emanate from your palm, similar to before. Glancing down, you gasp seeing the vertical eye glowing with a soft greenish-blue light.

"Hey! Let go of my sister!" Dipper yelled at the brown-haired gnome.

The brown haired gnome spins around, offering Dipper a sheepish grin. "Oh! Uh, hey there," he stammers with a nervous chuckle. "This is just a big misunderstanding, really. Your sister's perfectly safe. She's just, you know, marrying all thousand of us to become our gnome queen for eternity!" He turns back to Mabel with a smirk. "Right, sweetheart?"

Mabel, now tied down, glares daggers at the gnomes. "You guys are butt-faces!" she yelled before one of them hastily muffled her.

You step up beside Dipper, and kneel down to the gnome's height, trying to ignore the faint warmth spreading in your palm. "Listen here, Normal-man," you mock, voice steady, "if you and your creepy little friends don't let Mabel go, I'm going to recreate that gnome scene from the 2015 Goosebumps movie." You give your bat a subtle lift, just enough to make your point clear.

The gnome glares at you. "You think you can stop us? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the-"

You nudge him off the rock with your bat.

Dipper wastes no time, stepping forward to cut the string holding Mabel down with his shovel. Mabel flashes him a grateful smile before kicking the gnomes away and rushing toward the golf cart.

Dipper grabs your hand, pulling you along. For a brief moment, he hesitates, noticing the glow in your palm. You can almost hear the questions forming in his mind, but the urgency of the situation forces him to push them aside.

Once in the cart, Dipper quickly starts it up and speeds away. Faintly, you hear Jeff yelling behind you.

As the three of you exit the cave, Dipper eases up on the speed, his tension fading.

"Hurry, before they come after us!" Mabel urges, prompting Dipper to chuckle. "I wouldn't worry. Did you see their legs? Those suckers are tiny!"

You frown. "I'm with Mabe on this one, Dip. That was way too easy."

Dipper rolls his eyes. "And you called me paranoid-"

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"...I blame Dip. He jinxed us."

A giant gnome monster, made up of smaller gnomes, looms behind the golf cart, chasing you.

"Move, move!" Mabel shouts at Dipper. He stumbles but quickly picks up speed. Glancing back, you see the creature's shadow growing larger.

"Dip!" you yell. "It's gaining on us!"

"I know! This thing won't go any faster, Y/N!" Dipper shouts back.

"Uhh, guys," Mabel says, peeking her head out of the cart. "It's getting closer!" Her voice is panicked.

"We know!" you and Dipper yell in unison.

The monster swings its massive arms, hurling small gnomes through the air toward your cart. Two gnomes land beside you, and out of reflex, you smack the one on your left, knocking it out cold.

The gnome on your right hisses, ready to pounce, but you swiftly grab the unconscious gnome and toss it at the other, sending both tumbling out of the cart.

Another gnome crashes onto the hood and springs at Dipper, latching onto his face with a tight grip.

You lunge forward, reaching over the seat to help the boy. The moment your hand touches the gnome, a greenish-blue light flares from your palm. The gnome yelps in pain, releasing Dipper and snatching his hat away in the process.

Mabel gasps, turning to you with a bright smile. "How'd you do that?" she asks. You stare at your hand, bewildered. "I... I don't know..."

Before either Mabel or Dipper can ask more, a tree crashes down in front of the cart. "Watch out!" you shout as Dipper swerves to avoid it. He manages to steer clear, but the sharp turn tips the cart over, sending all of you tumbling.

Groaning, you crawl out of the wrecked vehicle. "Called... it..." you mumble, slowly getting to your feet.

The ground trembles as the giant gnome monster approaches, each of its thundering steps echoing through the forest.

"Stay back, man!" Dipper shouts, grabbing a shovel and hurling it at the monster. The creature swats it away effortlessly.

The twins cling to each other in terror. You step in front of them, instinctively trying to shield them from the looming threat.

With every step the monster takes, you and the twins retreat, until you're backed against a wall.

"It's the end of the line, kids!" Jeff yells from atop the monster. "Mabel, marry us before we do something crazy!"

"Shoot..." you mutter, glancing at Mabel. "There's gotta be a way out of this..."

Mabel's gaze locks onto the monster as she carefully considers her next move. Slowly, she steps past you and Dipper, her expression firm. "I gotta do it," she says, her voice steady.

"Mabel, don't!" Dipper grabs her arm, fear evident in his eyes. "Are you crazy!?"

She doesn't waver. "Trust me," she whispers.

Dipper hesitates, about to protest, but you place a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Dip," you murmur. "Trust her, just this once."

After a tense moment, Dipper sighs in frustration, then steps back.

Mabel offers you a grateful smile before turning to face the monster. "All right, Jeff. I'll marry you."

"Hot dog!" Jeff cheers, scrambling down the monster's side. "Help me down there, Jason! Thanks, Andy! Left foot, there we go... watch those fingers, Mike."

Jeff approaches Mabel, holding out a diamond ring with a smug grin. "Ehh? Ehh?" he says, gesturing to the jewels. Mabel kneels down, letting him slip the ring onto her finger.

"Bada-bing, bada-bam!" Jeff dances with glee. "Now that's how you get a wife! Let's head back to the forest, honey!"

Mabel admires the ring. "You may now kiss the bride," she declares.

Jeff smirks, leaning in for the kiss. "Well, don't mind if I do."

As Jeff moves closer, Mabel leans back and flicks on the leaf blower behind her, aiming it straight at him. The suction pulls him in with a whoosh.

"That's for lying to me!" Mabel shouts, cranking up the power. "And this is for breaking my heart!"

Jeff flails helplessly, yelping in pain.

You and Dipper approach, both thoroughly impressed by her quick thinking. Mabel glances over her shoulder, a sly smile forming on her lips. "And this... is for messing with my brother and my best friend."

She lifts the leaf blower and points it at the monster. "Want to do the honors, Dipper?"

Dipper grins widely. "On three."

"One, two, three!"

They launch Jeff out of the leaf blower, sending him crashing into the giant monster, scattering it in pieces.

With their leader gone, the gnomes scramble in confusion. You grab a rake leaning against the Shack and start herding the gnomes back into the forest.

Once you were sure they were all gone, you turned back and started heading in towards the Shack, Mabel had gone inside after talking with Dipper, leaving just the two of you.

"Oh- Um, Y/n!" " Dipper called out just before you reached the door, making you turn to face him. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wanted to, uh, clear the air?"

He hesitated, glancing at you to gauge your reaction. "Since we've been stuck here, it kinda felt like we were at odds," he admitted. "But with everything that's happened - the journal and all - I figured we should..." His voice trailed off.

"But especially after today," his tone grew firmer, "you helped me when you didn't have to. If it wasn't for you, I don't know if I would've been able to get to Mabel..."

You smiled. "I get it, Dip, no need to get all mushy." He flushed, groaning a little in embarrassment. "But, honestly, you proved me wrong. You're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."

Dipper stared at you for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks, Y/n. That... means a lot."

A comfortable silence settled between you just as Mabel popped back outside. "Come on, guys! Grunkle Stan has a present for us!"

»»————- 🪬————-««

You admire your new ring, a simple silver band etched with intricate Celtic designs. Inside, the name 𝕌ℝ𝕎𝕍𝕆ℝℍ is engraved, the letters catching the light as you turn it between your fingers.

A knock on the door pulls your attention from the ring. Shuffling around the tight space, you make it to the door and carefully open it.

"Dipper?" you ask, seeing the boy.

He nods, clutching the journal under one arm, a pen in his other hand. "Yeah, I wanted to talk about your... strange mark." You step aside, allowing him to enter, and the two of you settle on the bed.

"This started when you touched the journal?" Dipper asks, glancing at your hand. "Can you feel anything from the mark?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, there's this constant faint buzzing sensation, and sometimes it gets really warm." Dipper jots something down in the journal, his brow furrowed.

"And do you know what triggers the warmth?"

You pause, thinking back. "It happened when Normalman first appeared - my palm started aching. And then again when we were near the gnomes."

Dipper murmurs to himself, deep in thought. "But why now? Was it the journal that set it off? Could you be some kind of psychic?" He clicks his pen repeatedly, lost in thought.

"Maybe... you have a knack for sensing the supernatural," he suggests, his voice trailing off.

You glance out the window, noticing the sun had long set, "Let's discuss this more tomorrow ok?" You suggest, "It's been a long day Dip, you should get some sleep."

Dipper frowns, trying to protest. "But-"

Before he can finish, you start nudging him toward the door. "Nope, not until I get my beauty rest," you say with a playful grin.

Despite his reluctance, you manage to push him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

"He worries too much," you mutter with a smile. With a yawn and a stretch, you make your way to your bed, sinking into the comforting embrace of the covers. As your eyes grow heavy, you're unaware of the soft glow beginning to emanate from your palm.

. . .

When you open your eyes, you find yourself standing in an empty field. The sky is a strange, burnt-orange hue, and to your surprise, you spot not one, but two suns hanging low on the horizon.

"Where... where am I?" you murmur, spinning around to take in your surroundings. Far off in the distance, you notice a figure, their entire body obscured by layers of clothing.

With nothing else to guide you, you approach the figure cautiously. "Hello?" you call out, the sound of your voice echoing slightly in the eerie stillness.

The figure jolts, turning abruptly to face you. A scarf and goggles hide their expression, but their posture is tense. "You!" he shouts, his voice sharp. "How did you get here? Who are you?"

You hesitate, glancing around once more before offering a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I just went to bed and woke up here."

He studies you closely, his gaze unnerving. After a moment, he reaches out toward you, his hand passing through your form. You blink in surprise.

"Fascinating," he mutters to himself, stepping back to examine you more. "Somehow, through your dreams, you've crossed into this place."

A strange sensation begins to ripple through you, like a tug from deep within. The man's eyes widen in alarm. "You're waking up," he whispers, almost in awe.

You glance down at yourself, watching in disbelief as your body starts to fade, the colors draining like watercolors bleeding into the paper.

"Wait!" the man calls out, suddenly frantic. "There's so much more I need to-"

But before he can finish, everything blurs, and the dream collapses in on itself.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, the soft light of morning filtering through your window. The room is still, the quiet only broken by your racing heartbeat. You lift your hand, the glow slowly fading once more.

You exhale deeply, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease, wondering what it all could mean.

__

A/N: Wooo Gravity fall's fandom is making a comeback!! This is an old - old rewrite of a fanfic I made on google docs as a kid. Now that I can write, I figured why not revise the old thing?

[irreverent-saints]

PREVIOUS NEXT FIRST

Reckless Decisions

Weeks went by. She was onto her tenth venture without dying, others had for sure done worse. She only took what she needed. She tried memorizing schedules and shortcuts. From the way activity peaked in the evening, to the easiest plants to climb.

Once again she found herself in the Jotun’s garden. She plucked rasberries. He lounged on a rock, snacking on whichever plants were within arms reach. Cruel. Greedy. Violent. Stupid. These traits all paled in comparison to the Jotun’s true flaw: an idleness so dire it seemed to warp time itself. He turned over on his back, leaning his head on a boulder in a manner she could only describe as deeply self satisfied. His eyes were half shut. Arms with the strength to single-handedly raise barns were busy scratching his chest. How come he got to have a lush treasure trove at his disposal, so rich that it would take a lifetime to get through all of it? How come his physique was sculpted and rugged without the chisel of hard labor? Why did she break her back to no yield, how could God smite her more than this abomination? Idun considered firing an arrow at the lad, if only to get him to do something. Then again, a diligent gardener would have caught her by now. She took her share, letting sleeping giants lie.

Idun made her way back. Sweaty under her coat, hands scratched and calloused from grappling branches all day. She took one last glance at the Jotun. He curled up, twining his tail tip with a finger. His eye twinkled, wide and alert as he dragged his hand by the riverbed. Probably traumatising the poor creatures that had made it their home. He leaned to the side, tensing sculpted, elegant muscles. He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that highlighted his tall cheekbones and long lashes. The same expression one would expect from someone seeing an old friend again. Then he twitched his wrist, snagging a pike on his long claw. Idun winched. She shook her head, taking notice of the wiry fur that covered his legs, the flaky scales of his hand, and the unruly quills that lined his tail. In all likelihood he had a breath of rotted flesh, fleas the size of locusts and a propensity for soap dodging.

She walked away while he nibbled at the fish. Suddenly the giant lifted his torso. He leaned forwards, staring directly at the shrub Idun walked behind. She froze in place. He didnt blink, his glowing eye unmoving as his body rose around it. He seemed less like a being, and more like an incomprehensible mass of sheer force. A natural disaster. Idun’s legs fell weak as he lurched towards her. He quickly narrowed the gap between them. Her throat closed up. She hoisted her sack of foraged goods and tossed it as far from her as she could. Then she ran in the opposite direction, towards an old log. She clawed through soil and debris, squeezing herself through a small gap. From inside the trunk she watched as he picked up the bag. His huge paws shifted slightly in the dirt, his tail curled as he stood up. Soon enough he dropped it to the ground. As the contents spilled he rapidly approached. Idun braced as he hovered above her. Suddenly everything shook. She clawed into the bark. The ground began to shift. Tremors, jerks. Vertigo as one side slowly lifted. She clung to some vines inside the log, barely able to breathe. Heavy claws scraped right next to her. Bits of debris fell from above. Everything shook. Her whole face tensed up. Commotion mixed with frustrated grunts and laboured breathing. A voice so deep that it resembled thunder. Tapping claws. One pierced through the rotting wood. Splinters flew. She stumbled backwards as a rugged, talon-clad hand grappled just in front of her. It reached for her, scratching deep grooves into the wood. Idun pressed herself as far back as she could manage. The hand fought, but remained stuck in place. The spurs up his arm had snagged on the wood. Idun stared in mute terror. He thrashed. His hand carried the presence of a rabid bear. He jerked, as if caught in a trap. A futile, agitated outburst. He withdrew.

Idun let out a deep sight as his arm slinked out from the hole he had burst. She held around her knees. It all fell quiet around her. For what felt like an hour she laid completely still. She looked at the crucifix on her chest. How it vibrated slightly with each heartbeat. The only movement she dared make.

Then the tapping continued. A slight push, the scraping of claws just overhead. She stared out at nothing. Then. Silence. Another dreadfully long minute where the only thing she sensed was her own breathing.

The log violently shook. She reeled. Splinters flew everywhere. Piercing light as the dark log ripped apart. The dust settled, revealing a huge gap where the rest of the tree used to be. Two pinched fingers carefully pulled her out. She laid flat against the ground, covering her head and neck. A shadow crept over her. He placed his hand just a few meters from her.

“Why are you here?” He asked. Idun struggled to speak.

“I will leave.” She managed to stutter.

With a single claw he turned her over on her back. She tucked her arms close to her chest.

“You’re the lady from earlier,” he remarked.

“I really don’t mean any harm,” she cowered. He tilted his head to the side.

“This is not a good place for you to be,” he said, “are you the thing that has been stealing from me these few past weeks?”

Idun hesitated, then she took a deep breath.

“Yes.” She spoke from her chest. The Jotun loomed over her. An alert gaze, dozens of sharp teeth and claws ready at his disposal. She shut her eyes.

“But why? Don’t you realise how unsafe you are?”

“I do.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “My other option is to starve back home,”

Her whole body trembled, every explanation was an excuse. A but, a plea to be found present but not guilty. The jotun reclined.

“That’s just your nature, isnt it?” He said, stepping over her. Idun laid low. He picked up her sack, carefully collecting most of what laid scattered around it. “birds know to fly away from danger, wolves know to hunt or starve, and humans get by through cheating, deception and thievery,”

“Will you let me live?” She stuttered.

“I wont hold your instincts against you. Come back in three days time. Bring a bell and ring it near my door” He said. He tied up her bag and handed it to her. She took it. The Jotun left without a word.

—

Idun tossed in her sleep. Visions of collapsed houses and trampled fields. A trail of blood meandered through the city, leading straight to her doorstep. She saw his one yellow eye through her window, long claws creeping towards her. All the senseless destruction and broken bodies merely a stepping stone. He ripped her out of bed. She heard angry protests, townsfolk throwing stones at the witch that seemed to attract trouble wherever she went. Fangs slammed shut above her, dooming her to an endless abyss.

She woke up, sheets drenched with sweat. Idun patted the mattress, still here. The town was quiet. She dared look past her curtains. A bright yellow light shone. Her heart skipped a beat. Shaky hands pulled apart the blinds once more.

The full moon. Idun let out a sigh of relief. Still, sleep eluded her, so she lit a candle and got dressed. Why would he ask her to come back, she lamented, staring into the flame. This afternoon. That was the deal. She had her cowbell on the side table, and Psalm 23 in her pocket. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The sun lit dead trees. Birds sang. Her chamber was warm and safe, a statement she repeated over and over. She knocked against the wooden wall. Who was she kidding? One swipe of his tail would easily splinter her humble cottage. Worse yet, she could see beastly footprints where she had once tried to build a life. Every time a plank shifted or a shadow went past her window she winched. She could tuck close to the wall, or bury herself under the sheets, but her house was a mere shell, an illusion of safety in the middle of open land.

She recited a prayer, as she had done so many times these past weeks. She yelled into a pillow, then splashed cold water in her face. She then straightened her back and tempered her heart. Idun got dressed, focusing only on the motions as she blocked out the world. With blinders on she aimed straight for the tundra. A steady march all the way up to the mouth of the cave. She stood before the enormous, intricately carved door. Outside logs made from whole trees were propped up, creating a patio of sorts. A fire pit, scraps, odd items she had no chance of identifying. She stood before his entrance, fidgeting with the cowbell. At first she rang it carefully, unsure it would make a sound at all. Silence. She repeated it a few times, taking a break to listen for movements. Nothing. Finally she rang it as hard as she could, a cacophony that stung her ears. She heard something shift behind the thick door. Idun held her breath. Claws tapping against stone. A tail dragging over slate. She hid behind a large beam. The door creaked open, thunderous rumbles. A scaly hand revealed itself.

“Evening,” He called out. His eye flashed in the slim gap. Idun took a brave step forwards. He opened the door further,

“You asked me to come,” she said bluntly.

“…And you did,” he agreed.

“A woman must stay true to her words, who would I be if I didn’t?” She spoke from her chest, never mind her whole body shaking. He nodded, crouching down to place a pulley before her. It was loaded full with sacks, crates and loosely tied down produce.

“Here you go,” he said, pushing it towards her.

“What. Why?” She asked.

“I don’t want to be taken for a fool, I’d rather make a deal outright,”

“…What deal?” She asked,

“Come inside,”

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 24- Holding Back

yeah so... it's angel yn x demon h smut and it's filthy so here we goooo.

Fictober

Patreon

WARNINGS- demon h, angel Y/N, mean Dom h, dumbification, degradation, choking, hair pulling, etc. Just filth.

--------

Holding her hair in a ponytail, Harry’s hand drug her back to press her back against his sweaty chest. His hips continued to move, the slap of skin audible in the room, but Y/N was trying to keep it down. 

 “You’re holding back.” He hissed into her ear, the tingles of her hair being gripped and his lips so close making her body shiver. The demon was rough with her, just the way she’d found herself craving, one hand curling around her throat as she let out the most pathetic whimper she’d ever hear. “Who cares if anyone hears, hm? It’s what you need to do.”

His cock was deep in her, fucking into her sopping wet cunt, and he knew he was directly where she liked being fucked. “Poor little Angel. Still so afraid of letting people see even a bit of Dirt.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts and hitting deep, making her mouth fall open and a wheezy squeak leaving her lips. 

“I think that’s what it is. Y’walk around, like you’re this holy, sweet, innocent little thing. Perfect Angel, so soft spoken and touch so delicate. But when the door is closed.” He squeezed a bit harder with his fingers on her throat, making her gasp again. “The door is closed and you’re getting your holes fucked by the very creature you claim to hate. Sweet little Angel Y/N, God’s favorite… Is getting raw fucked by the demon who followed you home.” He snickered, loving that he had been her downfall. 

If Y/N wasn’t in the midst of pleasure, she would smack him hard. She would turn her nose up in the air, stomp her foot and leave. But she wasn’t there, she was being fucked by said man so well that her body was clay for him to model, her cunt wrapped around him and getting sparks of pleasure rendering her brain useless. “Hm? No retort from the pretty ice queen?” His tongue licked over her jaw, letting her breathe better for a moment as she shook her head. It was the right answer, because she was rewarded with her hair being released and sneaking down to rub at her throbbing clit. 

“Right answer, Angel girl. Got you so drunk on my cock that you’ve turned into a braindead little slut.” His voice got rougher, making her clench around him. He was soaked with her arousal, balls dripping with it, and he was enjoying every second of it. “Big and proper when we’re out there but the moment we’re alone you fall to the ground and mouth at my cock, get on those knees and open that pretty little mouth just so I can spit into it, fuck it… whatever I want because you’re just my little toy, yeah Angel?” He felt her try to nod, but that wasn’t enough.  “Use your words. Tell me you’re just my toy to fuck.” 

“I’m just… I’m your- I’m just your toy to f-fuck.” She shivered, her brain pleasantly floating as he fucked her. Y/N didn’t know sex could be as good as it was and surely she would pretend to hate depraved things such as this when she left the room- but something about the demon made her want to submit fully. Allowed herself to go blank, to take him the way he wanted her to. “Please,please,please, can I?” She pleaded, wanting so badly to cum. The stroke of his cock and his fingers rubbing over her clit and the nibbling of her jaw, it was the perfect storm. She was so close to letting go, so close to cumming all over his thick cock and then- 

He stopped. Fingers stilling on her clit, cock buried to the hilt and stopping, Y/N cried out in loss as he cooed at her. “None of that. You’re going to cum when I want you to, beautiful thing. If you’re going to turn your back on me out there, that’s fine. But I want you to remember being edged as many times as you can be. Roll your eyes at me saying hello next time and m’not going to let you come at all. You’ve got to be reminded what you are.” He kissed away a tear, pulling her to lay her head back on him. “A slut for a demon, a personal whore. You’ve signed up for this, you come knocking at my door to apologize… Give me this sweet body and a promise of being better next time… I think the only way to make a girl like you learn, is if I take away what you’re after.” Harry’s hand crawled up her belly, pressing over where he was sure he was buried, rocking back and forth into her to get some relief. 

“Because none of those angels can fuck you the way you want. You want flower petals and champagne and a slow rock of a fuck? Go on to them. But you won’t because underneath that angelic body, lays the prettiest, most willing to please slut that wants a pounding.” His chuckle made her shudder again, pressing his lips to her cheek. “As long as you remember you’re mine and show me a bit more respect? I can continue to make this happen. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes- yeah, I do Harry. I’m sorry.” She whined, cut off when his hand smacked over her breast.  As much as she tried, Harry was the one who shut her brain off. Let her focus on pleasure and give her a sweet pain to remember the next day, making her feel more alive than she had ever been. “I am yours, I promise.” 

“I know that.” He stated. “Get back down and turn around. Want to see you cry for my cum.”

[realcube]

NEED you to write more for kiyoomi i am BEGGING

SEA STONE ☽｡⋆

synopsis ☀ you're at the beach with sakusa and play a little prank on him!

tags/tws ☀ omi being sassy smh, mentions of drowning, sappyyyy, timeskip but sfw, maybe ooc idk & fluff

wc ☀ 1.4k

you ask sakusa to go to the beach with you and he agrees. it's that simple.

had atsumu or hinata witnessed that, they'd likely think you used some sort of black magic on him or a mind control spell. and in a way, you do have him in an — almost supernatural — trance. he's utterly bewitched by you.

so if going to beach is what it took to see even a glimpse of that pretty smile of yours, it was infinitely worth. although, as one may imagine, he's not a big fan of the beach. sand clinging to body, blistering heat beating down on him, limited space packed with sweaty bodies, amateaur volleyball; it's all just very unpleasant.

but he finds a way to deal with it. he rolls out his towel and umbrella, to protect him from the sun, and settles down with a good book. though he's only partially reading it, he's mostly watching you frolic through the water and mess around with the damp sand. you were so playful and fun, it enchanted him. occasionally you'd run back up to where he is to plant a kiss on his cheek or ask him to reapply sunscreen on your back, that was his favourite part.

you understood sakusa's adversity to the ocean — there's definitely some gross stuff in there — but you just loved swimming too much. gliding through the cool water, the seaweed tickling your skin and waves crashing gently against you. it's a once-in-a-year experience that you had to enjoy, but if sakusa didn't want to do it with you, that was alright, it was already sweet enough that he agreed to come with you. although he never outright said he didn't want to swim, you got that impression from the fact he was wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and matching trousers.

eventually, the sun began to cast an orange glow as it slowly set over the horizon, and many people had packed their things and left by now, so you figure it's about time you and sakusa do the same. as you're walking back towards him, you feel your ring slip off your finger a bit, but you promptly push it back on.

that is, until you have an idea.

a harmless prank, really. you take your ring off and slip it under the material of your top, then you rush over to sakusa with a frantic expression, to which he looks up with immediate concern.

" 'omi! i think i lost my ring in the ocean and i'm not sure what to do! i swear i had it on me when i came over here the las—"

sakusa hastily places his book down and stands up, resting a hand upon your wet shoulder and quickly interjecting, "don't worry, (y/n). we'll find it."

you nod while clutching your hand, your look downwards, which he assumes is out of shame but really you are trying to hide the evil smirk creeping onto your face.

"do you think it may be in the sand?" he asks, collecting the towel off of the ground to wrap up your poor, trembling figure.

you shake your head, "no, it probably slipped off while i was swimming."

sakusa sighs out of his nose. that is exactly what he didn't want to hear. "alright, honey." without another word, he relucantly starts making his way over to the shore, with you following suit.

just as he reaches it, he bites his lip, standing right before where the sea meets the sand, watching intently as the water spills forward against his toes. you stand behind him, snug in the towel, and prompt, "are we gonna look?"

he looks at you over his shoulder, with a dull glint in his eyes. the ocean is just so disgusting, filled with all sorts of creatures, and he loathed getting wet, it was such an annoyance. but seeing your sweet face, knowing your longing for something, what kind of husband would he be if he didn't at least try to help? he'd do anything to stop you from being sad. though he did momentarily consider perhaps just buying another ring.

without any further delay, sakusa puffed out his chest and rolled up his trousers to his knees and hesitantly stepped into the ocean, cringing at the feeling of sand between his toes. the contaminated water making contact with his pristine white trousers also killed him a little, but it's all worth it for you, to see that smile.

speaking off which, once he was knees-deep, he turned around to look and furrowed his brows when he noticed you hadn't entered yet, "(y/n). aren't you going to look with me?"

you shake your head, wearing a cheesy grin on your face that only confuses him more. "it's okay, kiyoomi. i was only kidding about my ring being lost. look, here it is." you pull it out from it's hiding place and slip it back onto your finger, "i just wanted to see if you would get into the water and help me look for it."

sakusa sighed, again. ususally something like this would piss him off, but you only amused him. "of course i would, (y/n). i'd do anything for you, i thought you knew that."

you blush a tad at your husband's kind words, then motion for him to come out of the water. "you're the best, omi. but you can get out of the water now."

he blinks, looking down at his feet sunk into the sand, "this isn't as bad as i thought. maybe next time we c—"

"no, seriously, omi, get out!—" you try to leap forward and grab his hand to pull him out but it's too late. the big wave you had seen rushing towards you came with such speed and ferocity that it knocked sakusa right off his feet, leading to him falling back into the water.

thankfully, you are able to grab his arm in time to help him upright again, so he isn't submerged for too long. and although some may say you just saved his life, he doesn't look awfully impressed with you after he gasps for air and wipes the salt water away from his eyes, with a single seaweed draped over his shoulder like a very ugly shawl.

fully soaked now, he grits, "let's just go."

rather unbothered by the tide, considering you were already wet from swimming, you nod sympathetically and lock arms with your boyfriend, guiding him back to your stuff while trying your best not to burst out laughing, "good idea."

he huffs and tosses a strand of dripping hair away from his face, "seems like i'm the only one who has those anymore."

"you've been spending too much time with atsumu. his attitude has really rubbed off on you." you titter, gathering all your stuff, "or maybe that wave knocked all the sense out of you."

"that might be true. the ocean does make people stupider, clearly." sakusa raises his eyebrows, watching you take all the stuff while stands with his arms crossed.

"oh wow, maybe i should've left you out there for longer. maybe instead of my ring, you could've found yourself some manners." you throw the blanket at him, since he isn't holding anything, which he catches frantically.

"you're ring wasn't even there to begin with." he turns around to look at the ocean, catch off-guard by how gorgeous it look in the sunset.

"and neither were your manners!" you retort, glancing at him to see his reaction, only to find him staring off into the distance. you follow his gaze and gasp slightly at the ethereal sight.

it's sobering, watching the golden sun lower over the ocean, casting a hue pink and orange over the sparkling water. the perfect end to the perfect day. it made you wonder if you'd ever see something so beautiful ever again, though that's not a thought you shared with sakusa, as he knew he'd wake up next to you tomorrow.

he gulped and turned to you, and you beamed at him, instantly leaping into his arms. he stumbled a little but quickly found his balance and held you against him, close.

"thank you for coming with me today, 'omi. i had so much fun."

he smiled against your damp hair, and kisses your jaw, "you don't need to thank me. going anywhere with you is always my pleasure." his hands run down your arm until they find yours, and they graze the back of your fingers, brushing over your glittering ring, "because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

[micromentality]

honestly, it’s downright cruel to let micros be out in the world on their own, they’re so tiny, how could they ever take care of themselves? more people need to start taking initiative and taking care of these poor things.

*pulls out my necklace that’s been tucked into my binder to reveal you dangling from it, tied up as part of the jewelry*

I found this one on the street last week. The sweet little thing passed out as soon as I picked them up, surely overheating from all those clothes they were wearing. Of course, I fixed that right away, and went to my friend Steph to get this fantastic necklace setup, it’s so much easier to keep track of them like this. You know Steph right? I’ve got to get you set up with her, having one of these around is great, taking care of them helps you remember to take care of yourself, you know how it goes.

HOTTTTTT i love the casual dehumanization and objectification. literally i am too tiny to take care of myself. u need to kidnap me off the streets and strip me of my clothes and personhood and keep me on a chain under ur binder pressed tightly against ur sweaty chest all day until u decide to pull me out to show my naked body off to one of ur friends. for my own good.

and you take care of meeee. sometimes taking care of me means stroking me off till i cum, can’t let ur little micro get pent up. and of course it reminds u to take care of urself 😌 (using my tiny body to jack yourself off)

i’m a tiny helpless creature, it’d be cruel to let be out in this big scary world all by myself. you’re really doing me a favor here

[makeucrawl]

Imagine Coyle going through psychosis and getting freaky with the new Skinner Man…🥴💖

Not gonna lie..I’ve been waiting for an excuse to write this 😩

ShockTherpy ship

((Kinda???))

!!WARNING!!NSFW!!

“Gonna ride you to yer fuckin’ grave!!”

Coyle yells as he chases a reagent into one of the courthouse's numerous dimly lit rooms. The poor thing attempted to hide inside a locker, but the officer quickly caught up with them. He smiles like a rabid animal as he yanks the locker open. “I’m such a good cop~!” He laughs, grabbing the terrified reagent, and tears them from their hiding spot.

“Let me help!”

Leland grunts in surprise when the pusher shouts and staggers into the room. He wasn’t interested in sharing his prey.

“Fuck off,Frank!”

The officer snarls as he raises his baton at the reagent.

“Aw, cmon! Just let me-“

The pusher tripped over himself just as he had turned on his gas canister.

Both Coyle and the reagent got a face full of the thick green gas.

The prime asset drops the reagent and began to wheeze and cough violently.

He didn’t care that the reagent and Frank had run off.

Suddenly he felt like all his senses were being brutalized all at once.

No matter where Coyle glanced, the room had a peculiar vignetted kaleidoscope effect.

A weird yet strangely familiar voice was ringing in and out of his ears, and he felt as if he couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried.

“wWhaT in tHE fffUck..!?”

He stumbles onto his knees, throws off his sunglasses, and wipes fiercely at his watering eyes. That doesn’t seem to get rid of the weird vision.

He yanks his tie loose, gasping to get some air. His whole body felt like it was on fucking fire.

Soon he pressed his sweaty forehead onto the cold damp floor, as he attempted to fight off whatever the gas was doing to him.

Soon he opened his eyes once more, hoping his normal vision had returned and was confused when he saw a pair of dark shoes, that he thought he recognized, standing in front of his face.

Leland didn’t even question why Easterman would be in the trial. He’d take help from anyone at this point.

“Hhnn…!! D-DoC..HelLp..me Uup..”

The policeman sputters as he reaches for what he believes to be the doctor's leg. When Coyle was unable to grab anything in front of him he looked up confused.

Leland scrambles backwards on his hands and feet, attempting to make sense of what he's witnessing.

Despite the fact that its clothing was very similar to Dr.Easterman's, whatever stood in front of him couldn’t be human.

The thing had to be well over six feet tall, with bizarre black tendrils, varying in size and mass, pouring over its head and around its body. Just above the two deep skeletal holes where normal eyes should’ve been, the cop thought he saw another pair of eyes. As the entity approached him, Coyle swears he heard it saying something to him.

He was not going to wait to find out what it was.

Shouting nonsense, he rushes to his feet, only to fall again seconds later.

“F-FUCK!? A-AH!? S-Shit shit SHIT!”

The officer yells and flails as he feels something wet and heavy slink around his leg and drag him backwards. He holds his breath as he feels the weird tentacles he saw earlier somehow slipping and sliding under his clothes.

His drug overloaded brain couldn't understand that it was his own sweat and oily skin making him feel like something wet and slimy was sliding all over him.

Unable to move, the prime asset could only watch as the creature crawls over him. His chest rises and falls quickly as its face appeared just inches away from his. A little whine escapes him as the thing opens its mouth, and he sees a long almost inky like tentacle slide out.

It forces its way into Coyle's mouth, rubbing against every little crevice of it before bullying its way down his throat.

The cop's body thrashed and quaked as he felt it sliding, pushing deeper and deeper down his throat. His jaw ached horribly, and saliva flowed from the corners of his mouth, a dirty wet squelching sound leaving it as the thing began to thrust.

Just when he thought things couldn't get much worse, he felt one of the horrible cold and sticky tentacles pressing against his slick asshole.

It forces itself inside him, and his body spasms violently on the ground. A choked sob leaves him as two more seem to shove their way inside him.

His eyes crossed and rolled back slightly, unsure how much more he could take. This fucking thing was stuffing him in a way he didn’t think was possible.

The tongue-like tentacle in his mouth cut off his air supply, as four-

No.

Six tentacles stuffed themselves inside of him. They rut and thrash inside him, as if they were battling to get further into him.

One battering his throat while six do the same to his ass.

He felt like they were invading his brain at this point.

A deep gurgling moan leaves him as these horrible things began pressing against his prostate almost caressing it.

He was unaware he was completely alone, as he came in his pants, twitching and moaning on the dirty floor from the horribly magnificent overstimulating sensation.

The overused man felt the tentacles twist together inside him before a heavy, thick, and cold fluid was pumped into his insides. It continued using him for some time only slowly leaving him when he started losing consciousness.

As the thick strange appendages slowly dragged themselves from his body, he believed he heard the strange creature mutter,

“I love you.”

What a weird fuckin’ thing to say.

Was his final thought before his eyes roll back and he finally passed out.

- -

When Coyle woke up again, he finds he is strapped to one of the infirmary tables.

“How are you feeling, Sergeant?" When the prime asset recognizes the voice, he lets out a small whine desperately in need of good attention. He opens his eyes after feeling a reassuring, gentle hand in his hair.

“Wha..Wha..haaapenned..?” His voice still slurred but no longer echoed inside his own ears. He turns to look at the doctor.

As soon as Leland noticed the dark crimson tie against the dark black suit, his heart rate spiked.

The memories flooding back all at once.

Easterman removed his hand from the cop's hair, and raised an eyebrow noticing the other’s breathing changing. He debated whether he should inform Coyle that he had a reaction to the psychotic gas, but part of him wanted to study this further.

"My poor pet." The doctor purrs, going closer to the clearly traumatized man. “Don’t worry, Leland..I’m going to take such good care of you..”

[coolbattlegirl]

Based off my cryptid twst au post

Feverish coughing filled the dark cottage, its source coming from the small bundle hidden underneath the bed sheets. The monster that loomed over the bed cooed and hushed at the sickened child, “Oh, you poor thing…” It whispered tenderly, “How ill and frail you are…” 

Clawed fingers dips a small towel into ice cold water, mimicking the familiar actions the creature had seen the humans do numerous times when their offspring fell ill. Moving its now inky long hair away from its face, it delicately places the towel onto the child’s sweaty forehead, a small whimper escaping the child as it does so. 

Despite the help of the cooling towel, the feverish child still seemed restless. Now that wouldn’t do. The creature began to hum softly towards the ailing child, a song they sang many times in the past. His fingers caressed the child’s hair, as he did, careful to not scratch the soft skin underneath it. 

Lilia watches as the child’s face slowly begins to relax, letting out a content sigh as they did. Upon seeing such a simple action, he couldn’t help but feel a part of his heart fracture at the similarity. A memory flashes through his mind, the soothing sound of rain falling outside the cave, a small, warm, fluffy being nestled by his side for warmth as he diligently groomed his offspring dry. If he dared to close his eyes, he could almost delude himself into thinking the child before him was his own offspring. 

And in an instant, the skin of his new form feels too tight, too suffocating. He has to stifle the hysterical laughter that has now become trapped in his throat, because he knows those cherished moments are never coming back. No matter how much he tries to delude himself, his offspring is gone. They picked up their spears and swords and slaughtered his poor child. They took his child away from him. The child who had once been filled with life and curiosity now lies rotting in some unknown ditch. 

Rage still boils underneath his skin, burning at his veins, threatening to erupt. But he reels it in, because he got even with them. They took what was his, and in return, he took, no, claimed something of theirs. A smile creeps onto his face, looking too sharp and wide for his now human face. He nuzzles the child’s face, cooing tenderly into their now silvery locks, “It’s only fair for you to be by my side now...” A hand trails up the child’s neck, pausing before gently going to hold his face, “My sweet little prince…” 

[anonym-potato]

Nein Again - 2x14 "Fleeting Memories"

Boy, it feels like I was making one of these just yesterday...Last time, the Nein acquired a strange and powerful magical artifact they do not understand, and then had a fight because who needs trusted allies when you've got duplicitous fellow thieves? Then a cat called Molly the wrong name. Wonder what that's about. Spoilers ahoy!

Opening on a Mercer Wheeze is a good sign

And Ashley's back! Double good sign!

I rate this Sam Riegel D&D Beyond ad a 9/10. Ashley does deserve a party every time she comes back. Why did they never do this again.

Oh wait no the silly string gave them too much power. That's why.

Oh no the criminals have guns Percy what did you do.

Molly's little giggle when Yasha appears out of nowhere is hysterical.

You can hear Matt make the decision not to give The Gentleman an accent as he says his first few lines.

Who's the weird creepy hanging guy. Matthew who is that.

I love how Beau plays their knowledge of how to get into the Evening Nip to the Gentleman.

Blood magic is so cool I gotta play a Blood Hunter some time.

The Gentleman being sweaty is just one of those things where Matt really could've avoided it if he'd thought about the phrasing for two more seconds.

I love Fjord's audacity here. This is Uk'otoa foreshadowing somehow.

And Nott and the Gentleman's audacity with that whole acid game. So much BDE in this tavern tonight.

Yasha why do I feel like if you got your blood back you would try to put it back inside you somehow.

An abandoned mad science lab is a phenomenal setting for a dungeon crawl.

I don't know what's funnier - Fjord suggesting Molly can turn water into wine, or Molly actually trying it to be sure.

You know Nott's making a good point Ashley has terrible timing

Liam what the hell is a 'GWAR babe'? Am I too young for this?

Even the professional criminals are racists

Matt's Jester accent is extra Russian.

If I could draw I'd be making fanart of Laura in bed on the other end of a tin can telephone to give Jester directives.

That "no-eye-dear" joke is a civil offense Sam Riegel.

...Okay but what are the Quebec laws that serve as obstacles to giveaways. I'm curious now.

I respect Molly's desire to not learn who he used to be but seriously could not be me.

Molly this group is made of sharp objects, have you seen Beau?

Liam's Jester Body Language is vaguely reminding me of KP Hob. It's very Cheerful Creature.

I love that "I left every town better than I found it" is Molly being dismissive and neglecting responsibility. I love that it's not sincere and that Beau takes it seriously. The way that the group in general and her specifically prop him up is so...real. And painful.

Oooooh and I'm just now realizing Beau's issue with the fortune telling is because of her dad.

Poor Nott just wants to know if Yasha will eat her.

Okay why does everyone think Caleb was the one Molly was talking about. Even my asexual self can see he clearly wanted to jump Fjord's bones.

COMPREHENSIVE EPISODE WSR: Fjord has now attuned to the Waste Hunter Blade as his Pact Weapon. The group has returned to the Invulnerable Vagrant again - Molly has bought two Vials of Holy Water, which he distributes to Beau and Nott, and Fjord has purchased a nice practical Cloak of Protection.

Caleb and Yasha's whole Bit with the throwing stars is delightful. This is the seed of a beautiful friendship.

I bet Dweez and Otis are related. Just 'cause.

Everyone immediately jumping into Beauyasha-themed Kiss The Girl is so funny.

In Conclusion: I remember almost nothing about this dungeon/arc so I have no prescient jokes to make.