#preservation schemes

[pttucker]

"You don't need skills that aren't for combat. "But Dokja-ssi has this skill as well?" Yoo Joonghyuk's eyebrows twitched. "Kim Dokja has this skill?" "Yes, he said this is required if you want to be popular with constellations…" "That guy wants to be an idol." Yoo Joonghyuk gritted his teeth and kept moving. Lee Seolhwa looked at Yoo Joonghyuk like he was funny. She didn't know why but this cold-hearted man became angry whenever he heard Kim Dokja's name. Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes shifted towards a stand. –50% discount on skill books.

AHHHHHHHHHHH

akdufskdfjsldsks

Joonghyuk looking at all the "useless" skills available to purchase:

Joonghyuk looking at all the "useless" skills available to purchase .2 seconds after learning that Dokja bought one:

[widowshill]

VAMP ROGER AU QUESTION! how would he and barnabas interact together (if they ever interact)? :3 💜

tagging @tortoisesshells because she's my co-conspirator <3

excellent question! this family and their sharp-toothed men will be the death of ... well, several community members of Collinsport, i suppose.

to start — Barnabas gets out of the box slightly differently than in canon, which colors his relationship to Roger and the rest of the household. Roger kills Willie after his attempted assault on Carolyn and Vicki (who is, by that point, his wife); Willie's mysterious disappearance and Roger's suspected involvement makes Jason that much more panicked, desperate, and correspondingly aggressive. Liz goes searching for the lost family jewels in a last-ditch attempt to buy Jason off, and, inadvertently, lets their ancient family sin out of the tomb.

ergo she's made Barnabas' thrall instead of Willie, but this goes unnoticed for a while — even though her brother would, in theory, recognize the signs, and his suspicions are raised, but she's already acting so much unlike herself with Jason around that he doesn't suspect anyone else of doing her harm. yet.

at the start, he and Barnabas get along very well, even before they discover their shared affliction: they're both relatively sophisticated, well-traveled, intelligent people, and for all that Roger decries Liz's emphasis on the Collins name, he leans towards familial connections instinctively (Roger hasn't got much in the way of friends outside of the house even in canon, and he's even more isolated as a vampire).

after he finds out Barnabas is also a vampire, things get a little more complicated, but overall, they're still friendly. Roger doesn't have much sympathy for Barnabas' relentless self-pity and decrying his doomed fate to live as a monster, because Roger on the whole enjoys his vampirism and has made a decent un-life for himself out of it (thanks in no small part to Vicki). but having someone like him around is a comfort in ways he wouldn't have expected, he's no longer solitary or uniquely monstrous out of the Collins family, he has someone else around through the night, and someone who understands the sufferings of bloodthirst and being shut out of the sun.

furthermore, Roger's very much interested in his family history and stories of the past, the building of Collinwood, Jeremiah's ships – and Barnabas was there. there's potential for some very interesting conversations about the past, and the arc of the Collins family history to the present, not to mention literature, travel, fashion, politics and the rest. Roger's his cousin's mirror in modernity in many ways, and that's something potentially interesting to explore: the world changes around them, but Collinses do not.

as an aside, they both have a funny sort of relationship to Burke. Barnabas hates him for his resemblance to Jeremiah and envies his friendship with Vicki and thinks he's crude, and Roger ... well. it's complicated. it's closer to antagonism than not, and Burke has tried to kill him once in this au, and Roger resents his flirting with Vicki, but then there's everything else with their past. so I don't think Barnabas' treatment of him would sit particularly well with Roger, he'd take the attitude of hey, only I can be a dick to Burke >:(

the definite fracture point is Barnabas imprinting on Vicki. Roger's already jealous and possessive by nature, and it's amplified by the supernatural nature of his relationship to Vicki (being closer, bodily and mentally; being necessary to each other; being, quite literally, sustenance) so he's already a little on edge when Barnabas starts paying attention to her, giving her presents, and appreciating the scenery — Barnabas doesn't, exactly, tend to have much in the way of moral inclination to leaving women alone when they have prior engagements, but it's fair to point out the irony of everything Roger was doing with his bloodbag governess when he was still very much a married man.

anyway: Roger finds foreign bite marks on his wife's neck, and he's understandably immensely upset by this. partially out of territorial sentiment, but he also knows Vicki, and he knows that she wouldn't have invited another vampire willingly — which means that she was forced, or hypnotized, or attacked in secret, and there's only the one potential suspect. this is already enough to lose his good will, but he might have been willing to let Barnabas go with a "hands off," had this discovery not lead to finding out what he'd also been doing to Liz. the combination of the two is unforgivable, and it's Barnabas' error to have made an enemy who is very personally aware of all his vampiric weaknesses, and Burke's already carved a stake.

[t-u-i-t-c]

touma & kento 🤝 koh & canalo

🔥&⚡

[worstloki]

people need to take advantage of Mu Qing and Feng Xin as platonic besties before I start throwing stuff

[what-am-i-outside-my-google-tabs]

"so, what's the last anime you watched?"

"ever heard of Boku No Pico?"

[insightfultake]

Lakhimpur Kheri: A Sustainable Model for Nature and Progress

Nestled in Uttar Pradesh’s Terai belt, Lakhimpur Kheri stands as a remarkable testament to balancing progress with ecological preservation. With its rivers, lush biodiversity, and cultural richness, the district offers lessons in sustainable living that resonate far beyond its borders.

The vision of Lakhimpur Kheri’s District Magistrate, Durga Shakti Nagpal, has been instrumental in shaping the district’s efforts toward ecological resilience and rural empowerment. Her leadership reflects a commitment to transforming challenges like annual floods and environmental degradation into opportunities for growth and sustainability.

[theseheartsadore]

OH MY GOD I LOVE THE EMOTIONS THE COLOR SCHEME CONVEYS

He doesn't get to ignore you.

I'm gonna make him come down here.

[seumyo]

husband!bakugou thinks you’re a hypocrite

Photo albums are a way to physically preserve memories. Memories that should’ve been buried with the past—forgotten as the years go by.

Thankfully, Mama Mitsuki lent you Bakugou’s old photo album when you mentioned it in passing. A thick photo album that had “Katsuki Memory” in its title and even a design of a cartoonish bomb, finished in this beautiful silver and gold. Fancy for a baby album, but they could afford it, so you didn’t have much say.

Your husband’s sprawled across the bed with his head in your lap, scrolling through his phone, absolutely oblivious to your scheming.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Bakugou grunted, not looking up.

“You were… Katsuki, honey, the light of my life—you were such an ugly baby.”

That got his attention. He set his phone aside, sitting up immediately. “The hell?”

You turned the album toward him, pointing at a grainy, slightly overexposed photo of newborn Katsuki. His face was scrunched up, red and wrinkled, his head oddly shaped from the ordeal of birth.

“I mean, look at you!” you said, unable to keep your laughter contained any longer.

He snatched the album from your hands, staring at the photo in question. “Tch, all babies look like this.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Yes they do!”

“Kats, I love you, but I’ve seen plenty of newborns, and most of them are at least kinda cute. You, though? You look like a grumpy little potato that just got yanked out of the ground.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his ears turning red as he tried to defend himself. “I just got born! Give me a break!”

You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. “Certainly born with a face that only a mother could love.” A face that you also loved.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he barked, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He closed the album with a loud thud and tossed it onto the nightstand. “You’re lucky I don’t blow that damn thing to bits.”

“Your Mom would be devastated. I would be too.”

“Shut.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your laughter dying down. “I’m sorry, hun. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that. You’re so good-looking now, but baby Katsuki? He was… something else.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, glaring at you like a sulking child. “Bet you weren’t some perfect baby, either.”

“I was adorable; thank you very much,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

“Show a picture or you’re lyin’.”

You showed him a newborn picture of you, and that shut him up. Bakugou had lost the battle and the war—because the gods must have a favorite.

“Fucking unfair,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. You looked so cute and small. Who knew this little spawn would be his wife someday?

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Hey, ugly or not, you’re my grumpy little potato, and I love you.”

He grumbled under his breath, but the way his hand found yours and squeezed it gently told you he wasn’t really mad. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

“No promises.”

Bakugou grunted. Fucking perfect.

-

“Awe, look at him, Katsuki,” you murmured, brushing a gentle finger across your son’s chubby cheek.

The little boy was fast asleep, his tiny fists curled in his adorably tiny mittens near his face. His resemblance to Bakugou was uncanny—he had the same spiky tufts of blonde hair and a natural pout that made your heart melt. The chubbiness of his cheeks was a bonus, seeing that a healthy son was all that you could ever wish for.

Bakugou sighed quietly, his attention drifting to his son. “Tch. ‘Course he is. He’s my kid.”

You chuckled, glancing at him. “I mean, yeah, but he looks just like you. I can’t believe it.”

“Why can’t you believe it?” He can’t help but ask.

“Because,” you began, your voice dropping into a joking tone.

“Remember when I saw what you looked like as a baby? And, well…”

He narrowed his eyes. That again.

“Don’t start.”

“I mean it, though. He’s adorable. He even has your pout.”

Bakugou leaned forward, resting his arms against the crib, although not putting his entire weight on it. “Yeah, and? You callin’ me cute now?”

“Maybe. But only because you look better now than you did when you were fresh out of the womb.”

“Hypocrite,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sittin’ there, gushin’ about how cute he is,” he said, gesturing toward their son. “But when it was me, you couldn’t stop talkin’ about how ugly I was. And now you’re all, ‘Oh, he looks just like you!’ Make up your damn mind, woman.”

You bit back a laugh, careful not to wake your baby baby boy. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little harsh about baby you. But come on, Katsuki. He’s the improved version of you.”

“Improved, my ass. He’s just like me, end of story.”

“He got my eyebrows, that’s for sure. See? Improved version.”

“You have a problem with my eyebrows?” He scoffs in mock offense, crossing his arms.

You leaned toward him, a playful glint in your eye. “Well, if he grows up with your temper and your attitude, I’ll definitely know where he got it from.”

“And if he grows up teasin’ people to death like you, I’ll know where that came from,” he replied, though there was no real heat in his words.

You both fell silent for a moment, your eyes drifting back to your son. The little boy shifted in his sleep, letting out a soft coo that made your heart swell—like it could burst any moment now.

“Hun,” you said softly, your teasing tone gone. “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

Bakugou leaned closer, resting a hand on your shoulder as he gazed down at your son. His usual sharp expression softened into something almost unrecognizable—pure, unfiltered love.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He is.”

You looked at him, smiling. “You’re going to be such a great dad, you know that?”

“Tch. Of course,” he muttered, though the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I’ll be the best dad the world has ever seen.”

...

“Just… don’t let him see my baby pictures in the future, got it?”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

For now, anyway.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[belovedroach]

hear me out.....

Sander Bugs...... it's them but it's bugs..............

does anyone share my vision-

im not the best at drawing insects, so in case it's hard to tell: Virgil is a spider, Roman is a butterfly, Remus is a moth, Logan is an ant, Janus is a wasp and Patton is a bee.

(click the thingy if you'd like to indulge me in more details lmao)

Virgil, the spider: he already has spiders motifs. Also, spider webs can work as a metaphor for falling down an anxiety spiral (one step down a slippery slope and you're unable to get out).

Roman, the butterfly: the (mostly agreed upon) prettiest bug, for the prettiest boy in the party™. They're not overly romanticized in media for nothing lol. And of course, he's a "monarch butterfly".

Remus, the moth: "like moths to a flame" that represents self-destructive behaviour (unable to go against a desire that ultimately harms you, and could be your doom). Also, he shares the buttlerfly similarity with Roman. Plus he's a nuisance to your wardrobe

Janus, the wasp: they can sting without dying, having more of a defense purpose. Acting as Thomas' self-preservation, he acts like a last line of defense. And the yellow and black color scheme suits him nicely.

Logan, the ant: they're hard-working, resourceful and persevering. Those are pretty much words that easily describe Logan as well. And if anyone would be able to carry two times his own weight, it would be him (?)

Design fun fact: his extra set of arms are retractable! He uses them when he needs and extra pair of hands (lmao). Patton can do this too

Patton, the bee: hard-working too, but more centered in providing for others: he provides the others with affection and dinner (lol). He's sweet as honey. Their existence is helpful to the environment, and Patton's existence is helpful to my mental health /hj

i'd love to hear your own interpretations or even assign them different bugs !!! dont be shy

[fangirlingpuggle]

SVSSS role reversal AU where Binghe is not just Peak lord but sect head it's still his story only near the middle before Sect is destroyed and he wages war and destroys all demons and forms giant harem (Something kick started by his scum head disciple who was hidden prince of demons and is killed by Binghe)

He did the Shinji in Bleach route with Aizen in the I will promote them to keep an eye on them because I know they will betray me route.

Binghe who has been monitoring head disciple Shen Jiu who suddenly appears to no longer be scheming but instead snaking into the beast peak and playing with all the beasts. He's pretty sure the qi deviation has destroyed all his self preservation instincts. Also they are now looking at him with something not like hero worship he's used to but concern and he keeps making him tea and BINGHE IS CONFUSED AND KNOWS HE IS PLANNING SOMETHING.

He also does not like all the other disciples flirting with HIS DISCIPLE (Even if he knows his disciple will betray him) he has thrown many of them off his peak multiple times, Shen Yuan hasn't noticed and Binghe will deny it.

Shen Yuan is freaking out currently enjoying his time on the peaks and around his favorite character while he can because he knows he's going end up in abyss and his plan is to just stay there. He's gonna chill in the abyss make a farm or something and just stay out the plot and hopefully not get tortured and killed thank you very much. He'll just go vibe in the endless abyss because somehow that's his best option here.(Also he really does want to see some of the creatures there)

(He's also very happy he transmigrated as around 17 as he didn't want to go through demon puberty.)

(He does end up in abyss and Binghe goes to rescue him while Shen Yuan is running away like 'OH GOD HE CAME DOWN TO THE ABYSS TO KILL ME CAUSE I DIDN'T LEAVE')

Binghe sees full demon Shen Yuan in abyss after years missing and suddenly has the '...oh...OH...' moment.

Also role reversal Moshang

Airplane gets transmigrated as demon lord Shang Qinghua and has had to be doing political maneuvering to not get assassinated and has not been able to relax for years. The only way to not get killed was to become king (he didn't want to) he now has to deal with all his territory (and so much paperwork) that he is trying to make self sufficient and maybe some chance of surviving Binghe's rampage (or at least have some safe fortified place to hide out the massacre)

All the while he has to keep saving his favorite character who keeps trying to kill him and almost getting himself murdered or kidnapped by other demons.

Peak lord Mobei Jun fell hard for the demon who saved him as a disciple and kept trying to find him, he heard demons courted by combat and he's been trying to marry this demon lord for years. Hell he's even tried to get himself kidnapped by him, nothings working.

Mobei Jun:How do I get a demon a bridenap me?

Binghe*tuning around from the Shen Jiu conspiracy board*:...wait what?

[moonyvvamp]

i choose to believe that the bi flag colour scheme is a conscious choice. they were picking which colour to dye their hair one day and Rumi was just standing there with her lavender hair waiting for them to choose at the hair salon and they had a "are you thinking what I'm thinking moment"

collectively unspoken agreement that since Rumi is their center they can always look like a walking bi flag.

Maybe Zoey didn't want to dye her hair a crazy colour for some reason (like wanting to preserve her hair, it's so shiny I don't blame her and her being the youngest so maybe when they were deciding the colours Zoey was still a minor who needed to finish school) so it just worked more in their favour

Maybe Rumi hasn't realised it yet but Mira and Zoey have orchestrated this as a way to show the word they're fruity af and iconic

[suppermariobroth]

Fans of the Poltergust vacuums from the Luigi's Mansion series may have found it strange that despite the Poltergust model numbers having increased consistently between their chronological appearances, Luigi's Mansion 3 appears to not use that numbering scheme and call its version the Poltergust G-00 instead.

Top: however, concept art found in the game shows that the technical model number of the Poltergust G-00 is in fact 7000, and "G-00" is likely just a name E. Gadd chose to describe its functionality in a whimsical way.

Bottom: as such, this preserves the tradition of the increasing model numbers, as seen with all Poltergust appearances to date.

Main Blog | Patreon | Twitter | Bluesky | Small Findings | Source: The Pipe Plaza

[sunderwight]

Concept where Bingge basically ends up the same way Meng Mo did.

After his incredibly long and dramatic reign as the demon emperor, eventually he runs out of narrative leash (the story ends) and the protagonist halo stops protecting him. Of course he's still got his incredibly overpowered everything to help keep him from being toppled, but no one is eternally vigilant. Sooner or later some plot or scheme against him works, and his body gets destroyed or sealed away in some trap he can't escape from.

But Bingge's not limited to just his physical form. So he escapes into dreams.

Time moves strangely in dreams. That's always the case, but in the beginning, Bingge used to be pretty good at enforcing order over the chaos and keeping track himself. It was part of mastering them. As an untethered spirit, however, Luo Binghe finds that he can't really do that anymore. He and Meng Mo go their separate ways, with him no longer able to offer the dream demon anything, and that's the last Bingge sees of the old master. Whether he disappears into realms deeper than dreams or avoids him or just finally fades away, Bingge's not sure, but before he goes he leaves a parting warning that in this sort of state, Luo Binghe will find it more difficult than ever to preserve his sense of self. The dreams will want to unmake him, sleeping minds will have more ability to sense and fight him off as an intruder, and there are many dark things that feed upon the energy of wayward souls.

In a way, it's not unlike being back in the Endless Abyss. Bingge is lost in a tumultuous sea of illusions and traps, unable to return to himself because the only territory left for him to traverse is comprised of other people's dreams. Even when he escapes some trouble or finds some refuge, it's in the mind some of other being, and he can never stay for long. Either he'll get caught and exorcised or he'll feed off of the host's energy too aggressively and they'll die.

In the real world, centuries pass. The damage done by merging the realms takes root, and over time the demonic energies colliding with spiritual ones causes them to degrade each other, eventually resulting in a world with barely a whisper of its original abundance. Bingge's spirit tends to feed on whatever powerful demons or cultivators remain, resulting in their eventual mortality and further loss of strength. Over time, even he runs out of targets capable of sustaining him, and his presence weakens to that of a shadow lurking on the edges of nightmares.

Then one night, he encounters a mind that tastes familiar.

It's been so long that he can't place why at first. But it's also been so long since he'd found a mind that felt like he knew it from before that it's striking. There's nothing in the dream itself that offers answers. The dreamer also doesn't seem all that remarkable or familiar -- just some weak young master who occupies himself with books and the electronic pursuits of the era, trying to escape some of the unpleasantness of reality and his physical frailty through fiction and dreams.

Bingge, on a whim, decides to indulge this inexplicably familiar stranger and nudges his mind towards conjuring up the desires lurking in his unconscious. Maybe they'll offer some clues to the mystery. Bingge is expecting the usual parade of vices to make their appearance, for his target to dream of sex, or violence, or feasts of endless delights, etc.

He is decidedly not expecting his target to dream of him.

The first time it happens, Bingge startles so badly he accidentally dissolves the dream and gets knocked out of his target's mind, and into a neighboring dreamer. He has to disentangle him from the neighbor's subsequent nightmare before he can get back. He almost convinces himself that it was some error on his part -- after all, how would this random human's mind even be able to accurately recreate Qing Jing Peak during Luo Binghe's disciple days? The peak was burned centuries before the realms were merged by Xin Mo, and he knows from other dreamers that such events have long since been forgotten to the world's history. People have shorter lifespans and shorter memories to match.

But when he tries again, the results are the same. The dreamer dreams of Luo Binghe.

These dreams aren't always exclusive to the usual indulgent kinds, of course. But in a way the sexually charged dreams where Luo Binghe whisks the pretty fuerdai off to some lavish bed chamber or hand feeds him decadent treats are more explicable than the others -- at least the style of hedonism makes sense, even if Bingge's own involvement is a fascinating mystery.

It's the other dreams that are more confusing. After a while, Bingge realizes that matters were not as clear as he first perceived. The dreamer doesn't dream of Qing Jing Peak exactly as it was. There are signs, when he's not too shocked to look closely, that this is more of an approximation of the peak than an accurate reflection of it. Bingge's memories are pretty well-preserved, if nothing else, and he can compare them and readily see that the dreamer probably isn't drawing from memory. Something else, like a description or vision, is probably where the imagery is coming from. But since Bingge is there, he has to stop his own mind from filling in the details he recollects where the dreamer has only blank or vague ideas.

So this person knows of Qing Jing Peak, but was never on it. And for some reason he dreams of it, and of Luo Binghe.

Particularly, the dreamer seems to infrequently dream of slapping Shen Qingqiu and carrying a young Luo Binghe away, taking him through some doorway or across a bridge or down a path that often seems to lead to the dreamer's own living space. Them little dream Binghe is sat down in comfort and peace, given food and medicine, wrapped up in warm blankets and settled in front of some modern electronic device or handed a colorful booklet suited to children. The dreamer pats his fluffy hair and assures him that he'll be perfectly alright from now on.

Bingge is... baffled. Threatened. Insulted. Extremely jealous. He hasn't even cracked the mystery before he starts possessing baby Binghe's dream avatar. He tells himself it's part of the investigation as he watches this "Shen Yuan" dreamer curse out Shen Qingqiu and gently wipe hot tea out of Binghe's hair for the dozenth night in a row.

[cece693]

So, I got this silly idea where Pamela Voorhees manipulates the male reader into being Jason's caretaker, because (bless her soul) she knows she won't be here forever. So, while giving this male reader attention and 'motherly' love, she unknowingly gives Jason a bride. And because the male reader is so preconditioned to tend to another person they're like 'okay. This guy is definitely crazy but also kinda hot...' So yeah, this idea is out there, but I like it. Hope you do too!

NEW CAREGIVER.... (AND LOVER)

pairing: jason voorhees x male reader tags: reader is a runaway, shitty home, what else can I say, Pamela is a scheming lady, but you get Jason, so is that too bad???, nah didn't think so, fluff

The moon was an indifferent coin above the highway the night you ran—bare-footed, half-blind with tears, flinching at every blast of a passing horn. Home had never deserved the name; it was a house of slurred curses and shattered dishes, a place where love arrived in bruises. When you finally collapsed at the treeline of Crystal Lake, you expected the cold or coyotes to finish what your father started.

Instead, you woke beneath a patchwork quilt that smelled of cedar and lavender water. An elderly woman sat knitting beside a pot-bellied stove, her smile warm yet oddly knowing, as though she’d been waiting for you.

“I’m Pamela,” she said, voice soft as cattail down. “Pamela Voorhees. You’re safe here, dear boy.” It took you only a day to discover what here meant—Camp Crystal Lake. Pamela called the place a sanctuary and grave in the same breath, yet with an air of how a person spoke of cathedrals.

Mrs. Voorhees’s hospitality tasted like something you’d forgotten was real. She mended the splits in your soles with neat whip-stitches, pressed warm cornbread into your palms, and brushed the tangles from your hair while you dozed by the window. But comfort was only half her gift; the other half was preparation.

“The forest isn’t cruel,” she instructed. “but it is indifferent. If you wish to protect someone in these woods, you must become its equal.” You learned to tread silently through the forest, to smell rain before clouds formed.

“Some wounds,” she murmured, gaze faraway, “don’t bleed red. Treat them anyway.” You practiced on burlap dolls, then raccoon corpses you found tangled in old fishing net. Your stitches grew beautiful and grotesque all at once.

“He’s a growing boy,” Pamela said, ladling venison stew into a third bowl you placed reverently at the empty seat. You’d glance at the untouched spoon and feel a prickle behind the eyes, as if someone watched from the tree line, salivating at the thyme-tinged broth.

You never dared ask why she trained you with the severity of a drill sergeant, only for whom. However, she simply answered with a wistful pat to your cheek: “In time, you’ll meet my Jason.”

Late spring blurred into summer when things irrevocably changed. Lightning split the August sky when a group of camp counselors returned, laughing with guitars and bottles. Pamela’s knitting paused mid-row. The smile she gave you was sad yet resolute: “Stay inside, dear. Boil water. Fold bandages. Wait for me.” Then she slipped into the trees with a hunting knife and a resolve that glinted like frost on iron.

You did not see her alive again.

When dawn paled the lake, the forest stank of metal and rain-damp carnage. You stumbled upon her body by the generator shack—head missing, cardigan soaked black, her eyes forever spared the horror of what she’d done and what had been done to her. Grief tore every stitch she’d sewn into you. You buried what you could beneath a stand of birches, whispering a prayer you half-remembered from a childhood chapel, though God had never done either of you favors.

The sensible thing would be to leave.

But you stayed.

Grief motivated you to continue with your rituals. Keeping the cottage immaculate, preserving her collection of knitted sweaters, sharpening the kitchen knives every Sunday. Nights, you dreamed of water lapping at rotten docks; of a child’s gurgling sobs just beyond the tree line. Then the gifts began:

A butchered stag laid across the porch like an altar offering.

A jar of marigolds—roots, soil and all—placed beside your pillow.

Heavy boot-prints circling the cabin at night, too large for any man you knew.

The first snow had not yet melted when you finally met him. You heard something massive wading ashore, yet before you could grab the hatchet—you froze.

He wasn't a kid, defenseless and weak as Pamela had hinted at. Instead, he loomed in the doorway: a towering figure in mold-streaked coveralls, burlap sack knotted over his head. One eye—wide, milk-blue, yet oddly innocent—studied you. In his fist dripped a wood axe, but he made no move to raise it.

Instinct overrode terror. “You’re hurt,” you whispered, noticing the gash bisecting his shoulder. You reached for the first-aid kit Pamela insisted stay stocked. He flinched yet allowed it, gaze following your every motion the way a half-feral dog watches the only hand that feeds it.

When you finished bandaging, you pressed a palm to his chest. “Jason?”

The name left your tongue like an invocation. The giant’s breathing hitched; then slowly, he retrieved a tarnished locket from inside his shirt—Pamela’s, the same oval cameo she once pressed into your palm for “safekeeping.” Two photographs faced one another: baby Jason…and now, tucked beside it, you.

Pamela had written your name beneath the picture, shaky but intent.

Everything clicked: the chores, the sewing lessons, the knife work, the rules. She’d been fashioning you into more than a ward. You were the keeper of her legacy, the caretaker—the bride—for the son who lived beyond death.

Jason remained mute, but devotion needs no dialogue. You learned his language in nods and tilts of that burlap-covered head: hunger, pain, agitation when strangers trespassed. He shadowed you while you cooked, his hulking frame squeezed into the doorway like a child desperate not to be left out. When you laid a sweater—Pamela’s favorite blue one—across his shoulders, enormous fingers fumbled with the buttons until you guided them.

Nights grew strangely gentle. He’d sit cross-legged by the hearth while you read aloud from Pamela’s brittle prayer book, big head tilting at the cadence of your voice. One evening flames spat sparks; you startled, and Jason’s arm swept you behind him in reflex as if flesh were expendable, you were not. The gesture shocked warmth into your marrow.

And yes, there were killings. Outsiders who trespassed, teens seeking thrills—they vanished beneath the frozen lake or hung like ornaments from the pines. You cleaned the machetes afterward, murmuring that he’d done “well.” Morality blurred; love is an elegantly cruel tutor.

[hollowistheworld]

AU where Network Effect doesn't happen and ART starts coming up with convoluted schemes to arrange to visit Preservation so it can visit its SecUnit. It just thinks Preservation would make a good ally, that's all. It has no ulterior motive, Seth, it promises. It thinks it'd be a good place for some shore leave too, maybe stick around for a while. And does Seth have any interest in hiring more security, because maybe someone there would be a good fit.

[princesssmars]

i wanna be your bitch!

a vi x reader.

vi has always been a girl who can appreciate a woman's behind. you just didnt know how much she appreciated yours.

wc : 1.531

contains : some fluff. nsfw. fem!reader. f x f sex. needy whiny top vi. oral and anal sex (reader receiving).

a/n : can probably be read as a sequel to this. i need help.

for the past few years, youd noticed a constant pattern in your failed romantic relationship that could only be described as incompatible boundaries.

some girls were too distant, some not distant enough. to be fair you’d started to get a bit peculiar at the end of your romantic exploration, gently letting down an admittedly sweet girl after she had ordered a rather large portion of oysters while on a romantic dinner date.

but when you met vi, and it's like everything just clocked. every quirk and flaw you both had seemed to bounce off of each other, an equal balance between the highs and lows that led to a magnetic give-and-take between the two of you.

it was a constant push and pull between the two of you, and you really liked it when she pushed you.

the first time you slept together was also the first time you knew that what you and vi had was different. after quite a few years of let downs you'd become a bit jaded when it came to your heart and in the act of slightly stupid self-preservation you initially just wrote off your and vi's instant attraction as a short-lived burst of sexual tension that’d lead to a night of hot sex before parting ways.

but then she’d laid you down on her bed, slowly spread you open with tender hands and attentive eyes, and took you apart in ways you'd only dreamed of. she saw how your gaze frequently drifted to her hands so she stuffed you full of her fingers, felt how you drifted your hands across her body, and urged you above her so she could watch you ride her abs until you came over her with a cry.

each time she brought you to a fiery orgasm you felt an unfamiliar pull in your chest, not uncomfortable but warm and bright, a near suffocating type of bliss. she felt it too, if the smile on her face when you pulled up from between her legs gave any indication.

(because as much as she loved to brag about knowing you like the back of her hands, you were the same for her, and it was hard to ignore how her gaze softened and drifted to your lips while you spoke while biting her own.)

and that habit became a key part of your relationship, words unneeded when a simple look at the other could tell either of you how you were feeling. a tick in vi's jaw alerted you of her annoyance, a bounce in your step alerting her of you’re restlessness.

it’s why it’s so easy to see what makes vi desperate for you, and what makes you desperate for her.

vi was an ass girl, anybody with eyes could tell you that. any chance she got to stare at, fondle, or smack your ass, she’d take it with a scheming look on her face and nearly rub her palms together. during sex you’d notice it, (well, when you could notice things, she had the aggravating ability to make every thought leave your mind with the first use of her fingers, tongue, etcetera,) how she would gaze up at you with stars in her eyes while you rode her strap before landing a harsh slap to the fat of your behind, a lovestruck expression on her features before she thrusts into you even harder, more determined than before.

that was all normal and expected of course, and you made sure to properly indulge her, frequently wearing way too short shorts around the house and bending over surfaces when it wasn't at all necessary.

but it went a bit…deeper than you expected. quite literally.

it was an exciting friday night, the two of you heading out to a nightclub with a group of mutual friends where the laughing and the drinking came in quick succession. neither of you were too inebriated, but just tipsy enough to where the pressure of keeping your desired inside was thrown out of the window. you don't have to share words to know you want each other, quickly stumbling into the bedroom before you’re being pushed down onto your stomach and she’s yanking your dress up and past your waist, ineloquently spreading the cheeks of your ass before diving it like she was starving.

and god, maybe she was. your face was flushed and your breathing stuttered at the lewd actions your girlfriend was doing behind you. every attempt to run or raise your body met with a grumble and a slight pinch to your clit, only resulting in you giving in to the pleasure and cursing her when her laughs vibrated throughout your cunt.

just when you’re about to slip off into that blissful state of thoughtlessness you feel it. the familiarity of her tongue, wide and wet, licking up and over your cunt in the way she knows drives you crazy, but you swear she’s getting…higher. when it happens again your leg involuntarily juts out.

“vi, ngh, vi. what’re you-”

she doesn’t answer, likely too entrenched in her actions to realize you’re even talking to her. you can tell she pent up, not just from the way she’s absolutely ravishing you but how her rough hands grip your skin, how her face barely pulls back to take a breath and her body rustles against the sheets as she tries to find a position that lets her get even more access to you.

but you cant hide your shock when it happens, a slight pressure on a place you arent used to, sending a blazing heat straight up through your body. a rather embarrassing mix of a growl and a sob rips through your body, one of your hands coming down to dig into her hair and yank her upwards.

if you weren’t so shellshocked you might've found the sight of her both amusing yet erotic, pale face flushed from exertion and arousal with big eyes lidded and plush lips parted as she pants. you’re stuck wondering just how her face is slick almost all the way up to her eyes, your mind wondering just what the hell she was doing down there when her wrecked voice rings out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“please, just let me - just let me try it, yeah? need it so bad, pretty, promise i’ll make it feel so good-”

her voice is nothing short of desperate, shaky, and heaving as her eyes dart from your eyes to your lips back down towards your cunt. you feel your face burn when her gaze becomes almost entranced, biting her swollen lips while not at all subtly grinding her hips against the edge of the bed, anguished as she waits for you to give her permission.

you don't even get to finish nodding, vi dropping her head back down and licking a fat stripe starting from your clit and going higher and higher and higher-

“oh f-fuck, violet!”

your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body goes boneless when her tongue presses into the tight skin of your ass, pressing gently but insistently to get as much access as she can without hurting you. as much as she relishes the feeling if given by her squirming body and broken moaning into your hole, the shared sounds of your heightened arousal ringing in the air.

she becomes consumed by it, licking up and over your asshole, until her jaw starts to ache and her thoughts become foggy. every so often she’ll begrudgingly pull back to watch the mixture of her spit and your cum surround and drip down from your ass, your body clenching and releasing as you try to hold off the inevitable orgasm that will wreck your body.

“it’s alright baby, relax,” she whispers, a gentle hand smoothing over one of your ass cheeks to hopefully release some of the tension in your body, “just let it happen, yeah?”

she gets back to work and keeps eating at you with a hunger that both concerns but arouses you until you inevitably cum with a drawn-out shout, rather early for you but you can't find it in you to be embarrassed as your body falls limp into the sheets. your legs continue to twitch as she continues to lave at your juices and entrances lazily, close to bringing you over that peak again until you start to use all that's left of your willpower to wriggle your hips away from her.

you’re both panting heavily, heads similarly slumped into your covers from physical exertion., you’re halfway into falling into a serene sleep when vi’s hands wrap around your hips and flips your body onto your back, your shocked gasp being silenced at the sight of her flushed body standing between your legs, face seeming almost drunk as she bashfully blinks at you.

“if you can take it…can i do that again?”