#prompt 1 haunted

[fauna-a]

I Haunted

The house was new, bright new, pretty, clean; the grass in the front garden was perfectly cut, swaying gently in the breeze.

No one could have said that some years ago a terrible fire had destroyed the house and killed the people living there, and David Sullivan hoped that no one remembered it, too. Or, at least, he hoped that the magician who had taken the appointment didn’t.

It was the first time David worked on his own, without his supervisor and he didn’t actually think he’d sell the property: all he wanted was to make a good impression and not mucking it up.

The buyer was a little late, David realized. He started to walk circles around the front door that was, of course, freshly painted.

Maybe someone had survived that fire. David was young and he was still at school when it had happened, but he remembered his father reading the Times and commenting the news. Yes, yes, a boy had survived… The apprentice? There was something other, something a little grim about it, but David couldn’t recall; he didn’t even remember the name of the magician who had lived there.

But he did remember the name of the magician that was supposed to be there now, and he wasn’t. He was very late.

Well, he couldn’t exactly go and complain, David knew it; he liked his job, thank you very much, but a call at least! A note!

He sighed: well, maybe the magician had come important work to do; maybe he wasn’t really interested in the house. Pity: David thought it was lovely, especially the little garden on the back. The fire had not destroyed it completely and some apple trees had survived: in spring it would be lovely, having all the white blossoms around. In the centre of the garden there was a statue, too, some Victorian magician with his stern face covered in moss. David liked that too, but if the buyer didn’t, it could have been removed. It was old, after all: it could have been easily replaced, maybe with some fountains that were so fashionable that year.

David sighed again: it seemed like his supervisor wouldn’t buy him lunch, like she had promised if his first solo house tour would have gone well.

 Nathaniel sat in his car, still. The house was nothing like he remembered, but, after all, the fire had been brutal. He could see the estate agent moving around, huffing, checking his watch.

Nathaniel didn’t know what the hell he was doing, first of all because he already had a house. But he had seen the announcement on the paper and he couldn’t resist to take an appointment. Except that now he couldn’t even get out of the car.

After all, he didn’t have to buy it! He just wanted to see it and… and what? The boy who had lived there was gone as was Mrs Underwood. Unexpectedly, Bartimaeus’s sober face, last time he had seen it some months ago, popped in his mind. Bartimaeus too had said that the boy Nathaniel was gone, well, almost gone, whatever that meant.

It was true. It had to be true: he was John Mandrake, youngest minister of all times. And he had better places to be than outside what remained of a house that was once his residence.

He gave a curt order; after a few seconds, the road was empty.

[goldengirlgalaxy]

Clark Kent is visiting Wayne Manor for the first time. After Alfred serves the two, Clark turns to Bruce with wide eyes, points to the retreating butler's form and says:

"He doesn't have a heartbeat."

[finalgirlkateausten]

Sam/Jack + “Take a short break and let’s go for a walk. It might help.”

i opened my inbox to write fluff... and then this made me think of the amputee!sam fic. i've been toying with the idea that since there's nothing heavily classified about sam's recovery, only the mechanism of injury that led to her amputation, she would likely rehab in a normal VA facility as opposed to staying in Cheyenne Mountain for the duration of her recovery. it's the logical option and probably better for her holistic recovery but. she hates it :)) you know she hates it :))))

Jack swears there's more twists and turns in this VA rehab center than there are under Cheyenne Mountain. But checking the plaque by the suite door tells him he's in the right place, and he enters the recovery room to find his wife nestled in one of the faded armchairs. She looks beautiful with the sunlight filtering through the curtains and bathing her face and figure. He thanks his lucky stars every night that there's still color in her cheeks, still a sparkle in her eyes.

He just wishes those beautiful blue eyes didn't look so damn sad.

She's wearing her sling again, even though last he'd heard, the docs were encouraging her to get used to moving about with her stump free. Jack doesn't exactly know if she's more comfortable in the sling because of the stability it provides, or simply because it keeps the end of her arm hidden.

He's just about to comment on that when he notices the magazine she's flipping through.

It's the third iteration of a prosthetic catalogue he's seen this week.

Sam has her laptop open, too, and from previous patterns he can guess what she's working on. The catalogue provides extensive information about how each prosthetic works and which lifestyles will find them most useful, but Sam goes further. She more than likely has the scientific papers up on her screen, reading through the results of each research trial in detail. Jack heaves a sigh, and his wife finally looks up, even though she must've noticed when he entered the room.

"Hey," she says quietly, "you're early."

Jack frowns. "I said I'd be here right after lunch. Have you eaten yet?"

Sam looks away from him toward the clock on the wall. "...oh. I meant to have some of the pizza Ellie left in the fridge. Guess I lost track of time again."

"I'll reheat it for us." Jack runs his fingers through her hair. "You heathen."

She leans into his touch but barely gives him a hum of thanks. Jack watches her from the kitchenette as he microwaves the cold pizza. She turns a page in the catalogue and then keys a button on her laptop, speaking the name of the next prosthetic on her list. Jack smiles when he realizes she's using talk-to-text to find what she's looking for. So that's why those silicon valley nutsos keep inventing siri and all that shit. He's mildly curious as to the spelling capabilities of the dictation software.

"So," he asks, when he carries two plates of pizza over to the tray table she has set up, "find anything good?"

Sam groans and takes a vicious bite from her pizza. "Nothing good enough. Half of these are just for looks, and the other half can really only perform one task at a time. I know there's no prosthetic on the market that can truly replace a natural limb, but these are all so..." she gestures with the pizza slice. "...clunky."

"You could probably make a better one yourself," Jack offers nonchalantly. Truly, he's not even thinking when he speaks. It's a bad habit of his.

Sam's face clouds over, and his next bite of pizza sticks in his throat at the look on his wife's face. "I've tried to sketch out a prototype a few times," she admits. "It just feels too... overwhelming. There's too much pressure for it to be just right."

Jack grimaces, and then takes the laptop and more or less slams it shut, stacking the papers on top of it. "You know what? We're getting out of here."

Predictably, his wife protests. "Jack, I don't really feel like--"

He shakes his head. "No. Take a short break, let's go for a walk. It might help you... I don't know, not obsess over fixing this." He reaches for her hand, helping her out of the chair. "This whole process is going to take time, Sam," he reminds her, pulling her close and cupping the back of her head. "I mean, the docs this week said you're still not healed enough for a prosthetic, right?"

He feels what's left of her left arm shift against him. "Ugh, yeah. Something about complications with scar tissue."

"So step back," he encourages. "Take a breather. Let's get some fresh air."

She slips her hand into his and lets him lead her out of the suite. "Fine." When she looks up at him, she's pouting. "But only because the damn VA courtyard is the closest we can get to a date right now."

Jack grins at her snark, ducking to kiss her quickly. "Hey. That's good enough for me."

[disappearinginq]

First Sentences Game

Tagged by @dragonnan and @itsjustdg

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway. Tagging 10 people up front: @buckky, @amandagaelic, @21forestglades, @altschmerzes, @vix-has-arrived,  @lovelucigoosey, @authorangelita, @djclawson, @cuppachar, anddd.....anyone else who writes and wants to play? 

So does this mean I do 20? Do I have 20? ::shrug:: Guess we’ll find out - and I’m not using the ones already published unless I run out of WIPs (which don’t have titles, just the idea that inspired them sooo...). 

1. 9-1-1 - mistaken for related prompt

“What’s it like working with your dad?” It wasn’t the first time someone made the mistake. It was admittedly an easy one to make - while they didn’t look exactly alike, there was enough overlap for people to make the assumption just based off similar features. Buck’s hair was a little darker, which Hen liked to tease the reason for was only the lack of gray hairs - most of which Buck gave Bobby himself. Their eyes were a little different, Buck with his electric blue that almost everyone noticed first, and Bobby’s a darker hazel. They were almost the same height, the same build, but mostly though, it was how they interacted. Buck hadn’t referred to Bobby as ‘Pops’ in awhile, especially not in public, but there was a familial ease which Buck would tease and Bobby would tolerate. Most people assumed the firehouse was like the military - the Captain was treated with absolute authority, and a chain of command followed. They naturally assumed that the youngest of the group wouldn’t be so familiar with their boss unless they were related. It was an easy mistake. It’d been made many times, though usually by someone in passing where either one of them could easily pretend like they hadn’t heard it, or smile and shrug it off with a simple head shake. But Career Day in front of a bunch of fourth graders was like sitting in front of a CIA interrogation.

2. 9-1-1 Buck and animals prompt

"Hey...Cap?" Buck asked hesitantly. "I have sort of a weird question. How do you convince a bird to leave the nest?" Bobby frowned, trying not to smile at the dead seriousness of Buck's face. "Well...when it's time to leave, the birds know." "Okay, but what if they don't leave?" Buck pressed. "Is there a way to convince them?" Bobby opened his mouth to reply before he paused, considering. "Are we talking metaphors, or actual birds?" "One hundred percent real birds." "Well....nature runs off instinct for the most part. If a baby bird isn't leaving the nest, there's usually a reason. Maybe it's not actually ready, or it's hurt, or..." "Okay, but what if it's not a baby bird? What if it's an adult?" "I...Buck, what exactly are you trying to figure out?" Buck held out his hands, which were cupped loosely together. "I found this bird, and it won't leave." He lifted his left hand, which was on top, and sitting cupped in Buck's palm was, sure enough, a brown and white bird. Too big to be a sparrow, and Bobby didn't know too many subspecies to guess any further than that, but it didn't fly away as soon as Buck's hand was lifted as Bobby expected. Instead, it looked quite pleased with itself sitting there and it didn't budge. "See?" Buck prompted, lifting the bird higher.

3. Outer Banks - continuation of Limits

“Mr. Maybank,” the ER nurse greeted them, flinging back the privacy curtain. “We meet again.” “Doc,” JJ acknowledged, offering a flippant two-finger salute. The man sighed, flipping through the paperwork from the folder on the foot of JJ’s exam bed. “This time with a police escort, I see.” He nodded towards Shoupe. “Is he under arrest, sheriff?” “He’s in our custody,” Shoupe deflected. The nurse muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘figures’ before looking at JJ. He let out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. What happened this time?”

4. Slow Horses

It’d been eight days. Eight days, and they hadn’t found him. Lamb could easily throw the blame on Cartwright. The man was always wandering off, pursuing his own leads and his own cases, as if he were an MI-5 team of one. His instincts were solid, and if that little shit Spider and Taverner hadn’t purposely torpedoed his training exercise to cover up their own cock-ups, he’d have his golden ticket and golden legacy still in place. Compared to Lamb’s normal throwaways, Cartwright was almost competent. Lamb never felt like he had to keep a tight leash on the young man because of all the Slow Horses, Cartwright was the only one there because of someone else’s mess. It made Lamb complacent. Lazy, he cursed to himself on the fifth day. Lazy, and fucking stupid. Because he allowed himself to forget that River’s ambition and talent were soundly outdone by his absolute shit fuck awful luck.

5. Haunting of Hill House - steven is haunted as fuck prompt

Steven always hated hospitals. True, he couldn’t think of anyone who actually enjoyed sitting in the hard plastic chairs of waiting rooms, listening to the repetitive pages over the announcing system, waiting for the doctors to come and deliver bad news.   He clenched the flimsy paper cup in his hands, debating if he needed a distraction badly enough to get another cup of tar-like coffee from the vending machine. Or maybe risk leaving the hospital for Dunkin Donuts. This was Massachusetts - there was a Dunkins at perfectly timed increments based on how long it took the average human being to drink a medium coffee. One was probably close enough to walk to, and guaranteed to be open. Luke liked the sweet ones - triple shot of coconut caramel macchiatto something-or-other with ungodly amounts of whipped cream. Luke mentioned once how terrible coffee was in rehab, thick and bitter that no amount of cream or sugar could fix. Probably the same as the hospital. Steven could rationalize leaving if he said it was for his brother.

6. So Help Me Todd - going into shock prompt

“But Mom, that’s not how it works, that makes it a misdemeanor not a felony,” Todd protested. “I know the law better than you, Todd, I think I would know -” “You know about upholding the law, not breaking it!” Allison tilted her wine glass towards her brother, eying the rest of the bottle. “He does have a point there. And that is his area of expertise.” “That’s irrelevant!” Margaret protested. “Don’t they say that lawyers make the best criminals?” Chuck pointed out. “Yes, thank you…” Margaret acknowledged, smiling before the implication sunk in. “I beg your pardon?” “Ha!” Todd cheered, holding his fist out to Chuck who didn’t reach across to bump it, but merely held it up just above the table before the doorbell rang. “You know what Chuck, we’ll get there. We just need to work on your enthusiasm, you got the spirit, you just need the attitude. We’ll work on it when I get back.”

7. So Help Me Todd (even though I technically might’ve pawned this off on @itsjustdg) It’s Not My Blood Prompt

“Oh my god, Mom! Are you okay? Are you - are you hurt, ohmygod, you are! Don’t move!” Todd pressed his hand down on the growing blood stain on his mother’s blazer, hard enough to make her yelp in surprise and pain, but he remembered lessons from Allison yelling at various movies and TV shows about ‘YOU PUT PRESSURE ON THE WOUND, WHAT IDIOT WROTE THIS?’ and he may not pay attention to a lot of things, but he does remember first aid, and the second part of it was calling for help. There was a crowd gathering around, multiple people with their phones but no one sounded like they were talking to 9-1-1. What was it Allison said? You had to tell people specifically to do things? “You!” he shouted at a woman who almost dropped her phone in surprise. “Call 9-1-1! Tell them we have a sixty year old woman, abdominal injury…tell them we’re in front of the Portland Courthouse and don’t hang up on them!” The woman turned paler than a ghost, and for a moment, he thought she was going to ignore him. Or pass out too. But then she seemed to gather her wits, and nodded once, before dialing on her phone. He only paid attention long enough to know she’d reached dispatch, before turning back to Margaret, who was still looking dazed. “You’re gonna be fine, Mom, don’t worry - help is on the way,” he reassured her, keeping both hands on her wound. His hands were shaking from shock, but he tried to keep his focus on her. “Ow…my head,” Margaret groaned, moving her arm to touch the back of it where it’d collided on the granite stairs when he knocked her to the ground. “Sorry about that,” he apologized quickly. “But you’re going to be fine. Okay? You’re going to be fine.” Margaret winced as she put one hand over his, and the other still behind her head. “Todd, I’m fine, it’s just a bump…” Todd tried not to laugh at that. It wasn’t funny. It would be horrifying if he suddenly giggled at his mom right now. “No, I think it’s a little more than a bump, Mom. Try not to move.” That made Margaret frown, and she shifted her hand, brushing against the sticky damp redness on her blouse,and then reaching up to his shirt and he could see the moment it registered just how bad this actually was, and he tried to soothe her before she could really panic. “Don’t worry - help is on the way, they already called.” “Todd…that’s not my blood.”

8. Yellowstone - season 3 fix it fic “You want a way out of this shit?” Jamie snapped. He pointed an accusing finger towards Beth. “Out of the fucking corner she backed us into?” Beth scoffed at that. “I can’t wait to hear this revolutionary plan.” “Gift it.” Beth almost choked on her drink, roughly inhaling whiskey half way up her nose. “If you think after the shit you’ve pulled, we’re going to gift -” Jamie shook his head. “No. Not to me. To him.” He pointed to Rainwater. “To the Broken Rock Confederation. It’s a fix for everything, but the only one here smart enough to know that - who actually has something worth losing if we don’t - is Kayce.” “You can’t possibly be-” “This is your doing, isn’t it, you sonofa-” John moved towards Rainwater, who didn’t flinch even as Jamie did, instead studying Jamie carefully, as if trying to guess where his loyalty truly lay, and what kind of scheme he had up his sleeve. Not that Jamie could blame him.

 9. Yellowstone fix it fic “Jamie didn’t turn on you,” Kayce pointed out from his chair. “You made him your enemy.” “All I ever did for that ungrateful sonofabitch was feed him, clothe him, put a roof over his head…taught him everything I know,” John snarled, swiping a hand across his chin. “I sent him to law school for chrissakes. And how does he repay me?” Kayce leaned back, folding his arms across his chest as he let his father rant. Experience said interrupting him just made him angrier. Best to let him ‘buck it out’ before he said anything to the contrary. After several minutes of railing against Jamie, John stopped mid pace, turning to look Kayce in the eye. “You’re awfully quiet.” Kayce shrugged without saying anything, waiting to see if John was finished, or just pausing. “Well?” “Jamie didn’t turn on you. Out of everyone, Jamie is the only one who ever did everything you asked - including give up his dreams, more than once - and it’s like it made you madder. This is why you ain’t broke a reliable horse once in your life - you can’t teach a horse through fear, because one day, they’ll find something they’re more scared of than you. Teach a horse they can trust you, and they will walk through fire for you, even when every other instinct is telling them to run the other way.” “Your brother isn’t a horse.” “No, but I figured you might understand the concept better if it was something you cared about.”

10. Yellowstone Kayce &Jamie fix it

“Why?” Jamie demanded. “If he didn’t want me, if he knew he was never going to love me - why? He could’ve just left me in a foster home, he could’ve just left me alone, but he didn’t. Is…is this a punishment? Is it some fucking mind game he’s been playing my whole life?”

“Jamie you know that’s not true -”

“DO I?” Jamie shouted, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Do YOU? If he hated me so much, if he was afraid of what I might do, why wouldn’t he just let me finish the job with the rifle on the hill? Why not just let me end it? But no, no, he couldn’t fucking let me go. A-and then what? Put me in the fucking bunkhouse with the rest of the orphans? But I went - I went, and you know what, Kayse? That’s probably the happiest I have been in years. And he couldn’t even let that go - as soon as he needed me, he put me back in the district attorney’s office, the same goddamn office he purposely pushed me out of with the Rodeo Queen - and now he’s governor - for what? For what?”

Kayce couldn’t answer - his mind was still stuck on the words ‘finish the job with the rifle’. “Jamie…what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, what the fuck is he doing in an office he hates and doesn’t want, just so I can’t? I-is it power? He doesn’t want me to be higher up than him? What does he think I’m going to do? I’ve done everything he’s ever wanted me to, I made a fucking lynch mob go away when he was lying in a goddamn coma -”

“Fuck the job, Jamie - what did you mean about the rifle?”

11. Magnum PI

“You know,” Thomas said, casting his gaze upwards to the cloudless blue sky. “I lasted twelve years in the Navy, and I was jumped by pirates a whopping total of never.” He turned back to Higgins, not inches from his face. “But somehow, despite the odds, two for two with you. Next time you need a yacht moved, call someone else.”

“Shut up!” the man with a harpoon gun snarled, jabbing the pointed end of the spear gun at Magnum’s arm, drawing blood.

“You can’t honestly blame this on me.” Higgins bristled indignantly.

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas answered. “Yeah, I can. I was literally on a pirate hunting mission. In pirate infested waters. For more than six months. And not once were we boarded by pirates. Zero. Zilch. Never.”

12. Hudson & Rex aphasia prompt

“Okay, I need you to be patient with me, Charlie,” Dr. Gates said, smiling briefly. “I know these questions are gonna sound ridiculous, but humor me, yes?”

Charlie nodded, trying not to wince as the motion pulled on the stitches at the back of his head.

“Only nod or shake your head for the first few. Or, if that’s too much, thumbs up or thumbs down for yes and no. Yes?”

Grateful for the out, Charlie gave a quick thumbs up.

“Is your name Charlie Hudson?”

Thumbs up.

“Are you a police officer with SJPD?”

Thumbs up again.

“Are you at home right now?”

Charlie frowned at that, his opinion of the question plain as day across his face as he gave a thumbs down.

“I told you they were going to sound ridiculous,” Dr. Gates reminded. “Do you have a dog named Rex?”

13. Hudson & Rex Lab Rat prompt

It was Charlie, but somehow…not Charlie.

His hair was a little too long, but it didn’t cover the strangely circular burn on his temple, the angry red contrasting with his otherwise much too pale skin.Dark smudges under his eyes spoke of too little sleep, his normally bright blue eyes dulled and staring a thousand miles away. Instead of a suit and tie, his clothes looked rumpled and filthy, the sleeves on his shirt too short and his jeans long enough that the back ends were catching on his heels. The five o’clock shadow did little to hide the bruising along his jaw, a deep and painful muddied purple that was shaped uncomfortably like someone’s hand.

And that was to say nothing of the gun in his hand.

“Charlie?” Sarah repeated.

He said nothing, didn’t flinch or move the gun, his gaze still fixed and empty of recognition.

14. Hudson & Rex It’s Not My Blood prompt

The door flew open with a crash, kicked in with such force it broke one of the glass panes in the window and making everyone - including the other animals - jump.

Bailey may have screamed. Just a little one though. Like when her brother would lay in wait around a corner in a darkened hallway and jump out at her.

Linda dropped her water bottle with a crack on the tile, choking more than swearing as she spit what was in her mouth across the monitor.

“What the -” Linda swiped at her mouth, angrily turning towards the door, but stopped short.

“I need help!”

An older man - not like, old old, but older than Bailey and younger than Linda - stood in lobby, a large German Shepherd in his arms. The beautiful dog hung limply, and for a horrifying moment, Bailey was sure it was dead.

There was just…so much blood. In the dog’s fur, on the man’s hands, on his suit jacket and white shirt.

And then the dog whined, briefly trying to lift its head, but unable to rise higher than a few inches before dropping back down.

15. Hudson & Rex - caught in a snare prompt

Charlie laughed. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to Jesse. Or at least, what it was supposed to be, instead of the pained puff of air and the grimace it became. 

“You know, as much as this hurts - how stupid is it that I’m glad Rex missed it?”

Without really thinking, Jesse mused aloud. “He does have four feet instead of two - and he weighs about a hundred pounds less than you. It would be easier to carry him out.” 

The blood welled up between Jesse’s fingers even as he pressed down hard enough to make Charlie yelp, and Rex immediately pushed his head against Charlie’s, whining.

“Y-yeah,” Charlie admitted. “But animals don’t understand pain like that - there isn’t really an understanding of ‘it only hurts now, but we’re trying to help it feel better’. Rex is the best, b-but…” his teeth chattered for a second, and he looked almost apologetic. “That’s pushing it.”

“So…you promise not to bite me when I try and get this off, right?” Jesse asked, hoping he was actually distracting the older man. 

“No.”

16. Hudson & Rex fell down a well (ish) prompt

For the most part, Charlie could laugh at himself. It was hard to deny the accusation of being accident prone when normally simple things, like walking Rex home when his car was in the shop, turned into life-threatening-near-death experiences, like being buried alive. Or diving for a lost camera, something which he’d done a hundred times - the diving part, anyways - before, became an actual drowning incident after having his air cut fifty feet below the water’s surface.

It was easier to laugh at it then dwell on it. He took offense to the constant Lassie and Timmy references only on Rex’s behalf, because Rex’s heroics were real, thank you very much, but it was an amiable offense, rooted in good natured teasing. His usual response was “Excuse you? I have not fallen down a well. Timmy and I are not the same.”

He shivered, shifting in the almost knee deep mud at the bottom of hole he found himself in.

There goes that defense, he thought bitterly.

17. Hudson & Rex claustrophobia

It really shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Charlie developed claustrophobia, but somehow, it did.

Maybe because it started off slowly. Rationally, even - if an irrational fear could ever be considered rational.

After the freezer incident, he stopped crossing the threshold into Sarah’s lab until he ran his fingers across the sliding door, feeling it move beneath his fingers at the slightest touch from the sensor, proving that it wouldn’t lock behind him.

After the diving incident, he stopped closing the door to the bathroom all the way when he was in the shower, facing purposely away from the spray and towards the open door.

After the near-miss with the shipping container, he started avoiding parking in the garage, opting to walk from the further open lot, no matter the weather. He rationalized it was for Rex’s benefit. The shepherd liked the extra walk, especially since it allowed him to get extra snacks and pets from their favorite coffee and donut vendor.

After being buried alive, he stopped sleeping in the dark. Rex changed from sleeping on his bed on the floor to the bed with Charlie, so when Charlie bolted upright in the middle of the night, gasping at air he was sure wasn’t there a second ago, Rex could sidle closer, stretching out the length of the bed so that from toes to shoulder, Charlie could feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his fur, and the cold wet of his nose.

18. The Umbrella Academy - Diego asks Five to help out with a case where kids are going missing from a prestigious boarding school

“I’d rather lick battery acid,” Five growled.

Diego sighed, scratching at the raised scar tissue on the side of his head. “Trust me, Five, you’re not my idea of a good choice, either. You’re not my first choice. You’re not even my last choice. You’re literally the only choice.”

“Guess it’s not happening then, huh?” Five quipped with a smirk, blinking across the living room and back to the bar for his abandoned drink.

“Five,” Diego protested, “it’s not like it’d be the worst thing you’d ever done.” At Five’s raised eyebrow, Diego hastily added, “I mean, how could it possibly be worse than the Apocalypse? Or, you know, ninety nine percent of your life so far?”

19. Prodigal Son - totally forgot I had this

“No, JT, really, I want to know,” Malcolm snapped, holding his hand out – steadier than JT could remember ever seeing it – jabbing an accusatory finger at him. “What exactly was I supposed to do? Hmm? If you know, I’d love to hear it, because I haven’t got a fucking clue. I’m a bit of an outlier, you see – people aren’t good with things they can’t categorize. They want to stuff you in a box whether you fit or not, and I’m guessing as a black, male, combat veteran, there’s a couple boxes people like to tick off for you, right? Suicidal. PTSD. Temper problems. Into drugs and alcohol. Anyone ever tell you you’re a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off?” JT didn’t answer – it was rhetorical and both of them knew it. Veterans today had a rate of suicide comparable to WWII, and instead of trying to curb the trend by digging deeper to find out why, Washington just swept it under the rug – denied treatment, refused disability claims, shoved people out on the street like Monday morning garbage. The only time people cared enough to even Google the statistics were November 11th and the last Monday in May.

annnnnnnd 20. 9-1-1 Bobby calls Buck his kid outloud

“He’s my kid!”

The words were out of his mouth before Bobby could stop them, before he even registered what it was he was saying. The gunman sneered at the sentiment, unmoved by Bobby’s plea.

“Your kid, huh?” The man sniffed, ducking his head to swipe the back of his wrist across his nose without moving the gun from where he ground it against Buck’s temple. “Then he oughta be worth somethin’ to you.”

Bobby kept his hands up, placating, and trying not to let them shake.

This was too much like the explosion. Too much like the bomber.

Buck injured, close enough to see but too far to help, while Bobby had to talk a madman down from killing part of his family.

“He’s done nothing to you,” Bobby said. “Nothing to anyone.”

The man’s lip pulled back in a snarl, and gun dug further into Buck’s head. “Nobody’s without sin, Chief.” He gave Buck a swift jerk, making the kid cough again as his windpipe was slowly crushed in the man’s grip. “How ‘bout it, kid? If I go lookin’, what am I going to find?”

[lvebug]

an andie eliot reading guide (tags drop pt 1)

[pyrriax]

HI TUMBLR late footnote posting before i go to bed (i took a nap today........ ate up most of my time)

not a lot to talk about with footnotes today since i was Busy and my brain wasnt working pfndkmlfd i blame seven hours of modded oneblock

[spacetrashpile]

god i love when ttrpg campaigns haunt a song every time you ever hear it

[shittymurderparty]

redacted

"Are you sure you're fine living on this street?" "Yes mom. The werewolves across the street party too loud, but they turn it down if I ask them. Plus the vampire family next door keeps the crime rate low here"

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[l48yr1nth]

i seriously hate AI but it is like really funny to see how many words it takes to get some fucked up emojis.

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - Part 1

Prompt: Dan kills the joker and unintentionally becomes a crime lord

Dan didn't mean to become a Crime Lord. It wasn't his fault that the Joker was fragile and easily killable with one punch to the head. He didn't know that the seemingly immortal clown was easily killed once the impact practically snapped his neck. So yes, Dan didn't mean for this shit to happen. Not when all he wanted to do was go to college, make sure Danny and Elle weren't attracting trouble back in Gotham academy.

It wasn't his fault that the crazy bastard thought it was a good idea to nab his siblings and try to use them for ransom. It's not his fault that his first instinct was to introduce his first to that pennywise knock-off. It'd not his fault that this city was haunted by vengeful ghosts that wanted to tear that motherfucker to shreds.

They were supposed to lay low after the mess with their parents and their name changes.

But nooooo!

They had to have an absolute hatred for clowns and now he's somehow made himself a crime lord. Why the fuck were the Joker's goons so fucking stupid?! They either tried to kill Dan for killing their boss or they tried to fall under him and make him their new leader. It was like a fucking cult in his eyes. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was going on with this shitty city?

It's not like he could call Jazz and say "Hi sis! I killed a crazy clown and I'm now the boss of his weird goons. I also might end up on the local vigilante's hitlist."

Yeah, no. He's not doing that.

But this might not be so bad... Not really. Being their boss could be treated as a source of income if he utilized the Joker's shit properly. I mean, he couldn't always rely on the fruitloops money, not when Vlad could turn traitor and use the money against them. He needed to find a way to support his siblings, one way or another.

And Clockwork did say to get a hobby. If not mass genocide then he could resort to carefully planned crime. Yes. This could work. He'll make it fucking work for the sake of his siblings.

Besides, if he was a crime lord—in motherfucking Gotham—he doubts that the GIW will even try to fuck around in a city where a ghost controlled some part of the criminal underworld.

Oh... Oh, he was gonna fucking do this.

(Clockwork watched as his most troublesome child shifts from world ender to crime lord. At least it was an upgrade from mass genocide.)

Nightwing didn't particularly know what to make of this mess. There were rumors of a new crime lord, of a new rogue.

One day, Joker's body was dropped into the harbor and found by the workers, all confused and scared as to why the Clown Prince of crime was dead in the water. It was humiliating in the Joker's standards, to be discarded like trash into the sea rather than have his body displayed for everyone to gawk at. The clown would have adored being glorified but whoever the hell killed him knew this and fucked the guy up bad.

His head snapped and his corpse tossed out like leftovers.

Jason had laughed, outright celebrated and Crime Alley was as festive as it ever was with the Red Hood blasting music through the streets and partying like there was no tomorrow. All of Gotham was celebrating, parading through the streets with pinatas that looked like the Joker. Harley would drop down from whatever roof she was on and swing her bat at the pinata, spilling red candy as everyone cheered and laughed. It was morbidly glorious.

But the festivities didn't erase the fact that someone had killed the Joker and knew what to do to disrespect him in the worst ways possible. It wasn't long until Joker's old lackeys were rallying to someone—a new boss. It wasn't odd for goons without bosses to move on to find different jobs, but for all of Joker's old minions to work for the same person? This was definitely the guy who killed the Joker.

No name, no appearance, nothing. Just quiet activity with organising his new goons to do strange errands. Stuff that didn't point them in the direction of criminal activity.

"You got anything?" Dick murmurs as Tim slouches over the batcomputer, watching as his younger brother sneered at the screen.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He snaps, "All footage of this new rogue is immediately corrupted."

Babs hums, "And it's not like it's altered after it's been taken. The distortion happens live. They either have some tech on them or they're a meta who can avoid cameras." She adds, taking a leisure sip of the tea Alfred kindly offered them. "Whoever this is doesn't leave a trace aside from this shitty footage."

Tim groans, "I officially hate this guy!" He almost tosses his mug out of anger, shaking his head.

"Does Jason have any info on this one?"

And like the fucking menace he was, Jason pops up without another word. "He goes by Wraith." No one was startled, just sparing him a glance before nodding.

"That's it?"

"The goonions adore him." Jason shrugs, "Guy's been quick. Dealing with shit like Black Mask and other trafficking operations. Some of the kids he's saved wear clothes that have this specific symbol on them. It's a good tactic mind you. Tells people to fuck off and don't come anywhere near the kid or else he'll sic whatever bullshit he has in someone."

Dick narrowed his eyes, "Is it effective?"

"Hell yeah! One of the kids got kidnapped just last week. I went to save the poor thing but he walked out of that warehouse while the kidnappers were bleeding and sobbing." Jason once again grins, "Little Tommy threatened me if I try to arrest Wraith."

"So more anti-heri than villain. Good enough, at least." Dick sighed, shaking his head as he narrowed his eyes on the screen. More distorted footage.

"Thanks for the info, little wing."

"Just updatin' you guys. Heard some rumors that Harley's on the hunt for Wraith to thank him."

Great...

It's been a solid two months since the death of the Joker. Batman and the rest of his birds were increasingly wary of the Wraith and his two new associates that went by Phantom and Specter. No footage on the three could ever be recovered, making them all assume this was the work of a meta.

Most of them weren't sure if this guy was a threat or not. Red Hood, on the other hand, had a fairly positive opinion on the guy who's been hanging traffickers by their legs and immediately staking their claim on the kid to keep them safe.

The new crime lord was slowly dismantling the criminal underworld and building it back up to their design.

"FUCKING HELL!" Dick glared at the screen again, "That's Wraith's doing, isn't it? No way did the Riddler blow up that building."

"Wraith's only been dealing with traffickers so far. Why would he do this?" Steph murmurs, staring at the recording of a building that had suddenly went off. Numerous were dead, some barely survived.

"That's the motherfucker's symbol." Dick pointed to the glowing green symbol that looked liked a fire with some obscure letter they couldn't really make out. (Was it a D or a P?)

"Okay... Why would Wraith blow up a building and kill everyone?" Jason immediately asked, seeming to be defensive of the man. "He doesn't just kill people, Dick."

"Even so..." Bruce grunts, clearly displeased with the bloodshed. All that death...

"We're going after him." Bruce announced, "I'm not putting of the Wraith investigation anymore."

Dan stared at the pictures of the bodies, pudding out smoke without a cigarette in sight. His new minions—they preferred the term goons—were clearly apprehensive and continued to observe their new boss's expressions. This explosion had been his first act of pure and utter violence, a massacre of sorts.

He glances at Danny who melted out of the shadows, startling his goons.

"Can't say I'm not upset but I get why you did that shit." He begrudgingly admits, sitting across Dan. Phantom was a reluctant associate to his new organization of crime—ish.

"They weren't just trafficking kids, squirt. Pimping them, killing them and selling their organs, hosting matches and making meta kids fight to the fucking death." Dan clicked his tongue, "No redemption in that, Phantom."

"I get it, alright!" Danny snapped, "But the you've gotten the direct attention of the Bats now. They're gonna come for us, Wraith."

"Boss?" One of the goons—Dan remembers him as Jeremy Nelson. One guy just trying to support himself and his kid, trying to keep his sweet little daughter in school with as much money as he could get. Dan remembers giving the man a raise and a jacket with their family's symbol stitched into it—one for little Marigold.

"I'll deal with it. For now, you guys spread the word on that shit. I don't want anyone thinking I killed a bunch of kids." Dan growled, "My reputation can burn for all care, but like hell am I letting people think I hurt kids."

With Jeremy leading the other goons, he nodded and hurried out of the office to spread a word. The former Joker goons had taken a liking to their new boss, preferring his ways rather than their dead one.

"Jazz won't like this, y'know." Danny sighs, "I'm not gonna tell her. Never. But she'll find out, one way or another."

Dan frowns, "You think I don't know? It's Jazz, Danny."

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't expect you to be like this. Crime Lord and everything."

Dan snorts, "I was the world ender, brat. This is mild compared to what I've done."

"Yeah, sure."

He shook his head, "You've got your own problems, brat. The Observants are still fussin' about you being king, your majesty."

An identical scowl looks back at Dan, and he's reminded that this kid is him. An alternate version of himself and yet they were brothers now. "I know. You killing the Joker fucked some stuff up. Apparently, the motherfucker was cursed to hell."

"Meaning?"

"He's got a lifetime of people in his shadow. Vengefu souls that want him dead." Danny huffs, "Had to deal with the paperwork cause everyone's wantin' a taste of him. I'm workin' on letting Walker release him so his victims can execute his soul."

"Cruel, little king."

"I'll give you his file. Bastard deserves to have his soul destroyed." Danny viciously grins. And once again, best reminded that this twerp is him. They were one and the same, different as well.

"Alright, alright. Fuck off now. We've still got some bats and birds to deal with." Dan immediately showed him away, noting Danny's eye roll.

"Better prepare a birdcage then."

Part 2 | Masterlist

[sennamybeloved]

⛧ SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 ⛧

HELLO ALL! welcome to another year of selfshiptober. i've noticed this is pretty much the 'official' selfship tober event now, which honestly warms my heart! i love seeing what this wonderful community does with my prompts :)

this year, i'm doing things a little differently. EACH DAY HAS TWO PROMPTS ASSIGNED TO IT. the first set is SHIPPY, while the second set is SPOOKY. you may either COMBINE THE TWO PROMPTS TOGETHER or CHOOSE ONE OF THE PROMPTS. the spooky prompts are a bit on the grittier side and probably won't appeal to most, so if you'd like to only use the first set of prompts and completely ignore the second, be my guest! on the other hand, if you prefer the gritter prompts, you can only use the second set of prompts, you can do that too! if you want an extra challenge, you can create a piece that incorporates both of the day's prompts. you can also change your approach depending on how you feel that day!

there are no hard rules for this. YOU CAN START WORKING ON THIS CHALLENGE EARLY, but i encourage you to wait until october to post anything. YOU CAN ALSO CONTINUING WORKING ON IT AFTER OCTOBER ENDS! you can drag this shit out into december for all i care. just DON'T OVERWORK YOURSELF PLEASE.

without further ado, LET US PROCEED TO THE PROMPTS!

#1. confession  |  night.

#2. blanket  |  flame.

#3. embrace  |  blood.

#4. apple picking  |  fog.

#5. all dressed up  |  blade.

#6. carnival  |  haunted.

#7. rain  |  infection.

#8. swim  |  terror.

#9. music  |  masquerade.

#10. warmth  |  claws.

#11. comfort  |  recovery.

#12. married  |  ritual.

#13. party  |  magic.

#14. date night  |  vampire.

#15. games  |  hunt.

#16. candy  |  illusion.

#17. heart  |  feast.

#18. pining  |  violent.

#19. shared hobby  |  potion.

#20. trust  |  experiment.

#21. snuggle  |  nightmare.

#22. kiss  |  scars.

#23. movie night  |  slasher.

#24. baking  |  empty.

#25. rest  |  bandages.

#26. beautiful  |  grotesque.

#27. decorations  |  cemetery.

#28. brush  |  forest.

#29. pumpkin  |  lantern.

#30. flowers  |  snow.

#31. halloween  |  death.

TAG YOUR CREATIONS AS #SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 AND TAG ME IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO SEE! i cannot guarantee interaction as i struggle socially, but i promise i'll look at everything! HAPPY CREATING ♡

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[writers-potion]

MASTERPOST (PT. 2)

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

For romance writing prompts, plotting tips & more, check out: MASTERPOST PT. 1

⭐Dialogue

Writing Dialogue 101

Crying-Yelling Dialogue Prompts

---

⛰️Words to Use Instead Of...

Synonyms for "Walk"

Synonyms for “feeling like”

Words To Use Instead of "Look"

Words to Use Instead Of...(beautiful, interesting, good, awesome, cute, shy)

Said is dead

---

🔠Vocab Lists

Nervous Tension Vocab

Kiss Scene Vocab

Fight Scene Vocab

Haunted House Inspo & Vocab

---

👁️‍🗨️Setting & Description

Common Scenery Description Tips

2012 School Setting Vibes - follower question

Describing Food in Writing

Describing Cuts, Bruises and Scrapes

Using Description and Setting Meaningfully

How Different Types of Death Feel

---

🗡️Weapons & Fighting Series:

Writing Swords

Writing knives and daggers

Writing Weapons (3): Staffs, Spears and Polearms

Writing Weapons (4): Clubs, Maces, Axes, Slings and Arrows

Writing Weapons (5): Improvised Weapons

Writing Weapons (6): Magical Weapons and Warfare

Writing Weapons (7): Unarmed Combat

Writing Female Fighters

Writing Male Fighters

Writing Armour

Writing Group Fights

Writing Battles At Sea

Erotic Tension in Fight Scenes

Pacing for Fight Scenes

Writing a Siege Warfare

Different Genres, Different Fight Scenes.

Making Fight Scenes Sound Nicer

Fight Scenes For Disabled Characters

---

🌎Worldbuilding

Constructing a Fictional Economy

Homosexuality in Historical Fiction

Writing Nine Circles of Hell

Writing Seven Levels of Heaven

Master List of Superpowers

Magic System Ideas 

A Guide to Writing Cozy Fantasy

Dark Fantasy How-To

Dark Fantasy Writing Prompts

Dark, Twisted Fairytale Prompts

Fantasy World Cultural Quirks 

Fantasy Nobel Ranks: A List

---

🌠Symbolism in Writing

Plant Symbolisms 

Weather Symbolisms

Symbols of Death

---

🪄Writing Magic

Writing Magicians - the basics

Writing Magic Systems

Magical Training Options for Your Characters

---

📋Other!

List of Fantasy Subgenres

Beauty is Terror: A List

The Pirate's Glossary

Storyediting Questions to Ask

Writing Multiple WIPs Simultaneously

Idea Generation Exercises for the Writer

Book Title Ideas

Picking the Right Story For You

What If God Dies in Your Story 

International Slang, Slang, Slang!

10 Great Love Opening Lines 

How to Insult Like Shakespeare

Serial Killer Escape Manual

Best Picrew Character Generators for Your Characters!

How to Write Faster

[bweirdart]

EVENT OVER! THANKS EVERYONE WHO JOINED IN U ALL DID AN AMAZING JOB <3 SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR IN MARCH FOR #mARTch OR NEXT OCTOBER (2024) FOR A NEW SET OF PROMPTS!!!!!

OC-TOBER 2023 PROMPTS!!

general tag: #oc-tober / my prompts: #bweirdOCtober

F.A.Q:

Do I have to draw EVERY DAY?

NO! I highly encourage skipping as many days as you need to avoid burnout! There are 10 main days in the event (marked with a ⭐ star) that you can focus on if you don't feel up to doing every day, or you can choose your own adventure and just do the prompts you personally like!

Do I have to DRAW?

NO! You can also write fanfiction snippets, repost older art that fits the theme, tweet headcanons/backstory, roleplay in-character as your oc ... genuinely anything that fits the theme is OK!!

Can I start early?

YES! I understand some people work at a slower pace and might need a head start! So long as you wait until October to post it, you can start working as early as you need!

I missed the start of the event .. do I have to catch up?

NO! Please don't stress about days you missed, you're allowed to just skip to the current prompt!

RULES:

1. MAKE FRIENDS! The community is the best part of this event .. please try to follow new people, ask questions about ocs you like, compliment people's styles, ask friends to create with you, etc!

2. TAKE IT EASY! Skip a day if you're tired, busy or just not interested in the prompt. You don't have to catch up on it later. This is supposed to be fun, not work!

3. BE KIND! Please think about the people around you - don't give people unwarranted harsh criticism, content warn for themes/imagery in your work that could trigger someone, don't create anything hateful, etc

MORE:

text version / tips and ideas on bweird.art or below ↓

star = main prompts | no star = optional

INTRO WEEK

1: FAVE OC ⭐

-Which of your characters is your favourite right now?

2: NEW OC

-Who is your newest OC?

-Design a new OC right now

3: OLD OC ⭐

-Do you remember the first OC you ever made?

-Is there an OC you haven't drawn in a long time?

4: RE-DESIGN

-An OC who has changed a lot over the years

-Take an old OC and update their design right now

 

BACKSTORY WEEK

5: RELATIONSHIPS ⭐

-Who is important to your OC?

-Do they have a partner?

-Do they have a best friend?

-Are they close to their family?

6: SYMBOL

-What imagery do you associate with your oc?

-Are there any colours, flowers, animals or concepts that symbolize them?

7: PERSONALITY ⭐

-How does your OC behave?

-What are their positive traits?

-What are their negative traits?

-Are they extroverted or introverted?

8: PAST

-What was your OC like as a child?

-Where did they grow up?

-Are there any significant moments from their past that shaped who they are?

9: FUTURE ⭐

-Does your OC have a goal they're working towards?

-What will your OC look like when they get older

-Do you have a planned ending for their story?

PALETTE WEEK

10: pumpkin patch palette

#251604 #1E3807 #5B5E1A #A2A657 #EBA00F #F3ECCC

11: hot cocoa palette

#520B13 #BB382E #E27E6D #88392C #AF5D40 #E1AFA4

12: midnight zone palette

#000007 #000049 #183885 #004D4F #0E8788 #FFF1C0

13: peachy palette

#DE6450 #DB9171 #FFC1AE #FEE1AD #FFF2E0 #D9D8D8

14: haunted house palette

#552506 #6E25AA #ED690B #F925A0 #8F8BA7 #A6C1AA

FUN + GAMES WEEK

15: MEME ⭐

-Post memes that remind you of your OC

-Draw your OC as a meme

-Fill out a character meme (classic deviantart style)

16: FOOD

-What is your OC's favourite food?

-What is their least favourite?

-Can they cook?

17: EYES-CLOSED ⭐

-Draw your OC with your eyes closed! No cheating!

-Write a scene without looking at the keyboard! Keep the typos in!

18: SWAP

-Swap the style or aesthetic of two of your OCs

-Species or gender swap AU

-Invert an OC's colour scheme

19: INSPIRATION ⭐

-Is your OC inspired by any pre-existing characters?

-Are there any particular songs/lyrics that inspired something about one of your OCs

-Do you have a dedicated pinterest moodboard for your character?

20: INVENTORY

-What does your OC carry around with them on a daily basis?

-Are there any objects that have sentimental value for them?

-Loot drop for your DnD OC

 

FRIENDS WEEK

21-25:

There's no specific daily prompts for this week, but here are some ideas you can try ...

-Art trades with friends who are doing the event with you

-Your OC interacting with a friend's OC

-Gift art for someone whose OCs you like

-Work together and collaborate on something with a friend

-Roleplay an OC scene together with someone

 

HALLOWEEN WEEK

26: FEAR ⭐

-What is your OC scared of?

-Draw one of your OCs trying to scare the others

27: MONSTER

-Do you have any monster OCs? (eg: vampires, werewolves, creatures, ghosts...)

-Draw a human OC as a monster

-Design a new monster

28: TRICK

-Play a trick on an OC

-Do you have an OC who would play tricks on people?

29: TREAT

-What is your OC's favourite halloween candy?

-Give an OC a special treat to make up for yesterday's trick

30: MAGIC

-Do any of your characters have magical powers?

-Give an OC a magical or cursed artifact

-Create a magic-using OC like a witch or wizard

27: COSTUME ⭐

-What is your OC dressing as for halloween?

[luvsupa]

“SHALL WE RESUME, MY LADY?”

tags: heianera!sukuna, trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, kissing, servants are bullies :(, BLOOD + KILLING, smut-ish (?), ANGST, readers called little one, my lady, my queen, sukuna lovessss reader but doesn’t wanna show it.

w.c: 1.8k

a/n:ITS BEEN LONG SINCE I WROTE PART 3 FOR SUKUNAAA, so pls read (part 1 + part 2) to understand this :p (or don’t 😔)

-part 1 was my first ever story so pls don’t mind the terrible writing 🤕

+ likes and reblogs are appreciative!!

for weeks now, since your intimate encounter with sukuna in his chambers, his words have echoed relentlessly in your mind:

“you belong to me, mind, body, and soul.”

unable to shake his haunting assertion, you find yourself lost in a fog during your duties, drawing the king’s scorn for your clumsiness—pathetic, he silently judges.

you’ve been desperately trying to avoid sukuna, feeling his ominous presence lurking near the servants’ quarters, dangerously close to your room. each night, you pretend to be asleep, hoping he won’t enter.

uraume and the other servants and concubines have noticed your distraction, their whispers and spiteful glances intensifying your growing distress.

just as you’re lost in your thoughts, walking towards the grand kitchen, you feel yourself being harshly pushed—nearly losing your balance. you turn to face the two brunettes who always accompany sukuna in his chambers.

“look at her,” one sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. “she looks even more pitiful than usual. you’d think she’d try harder, especially with tomorrow’s annual gift-giving ceremony.”

your heart drops, and you feel the blood drain from your face as the realization hits you—you had completely forgotten about it. shit.

the other brunette catches your expression and smirks, leaning closer.

“oh, you did not know?” she mocks, her eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. “did you truly forget? lost in your own little world? pathetic. do not think sukuna-sama has not noticed your incompetence. if i were you, i would be prepared to face his wrath tomorrow.”

before you can respond, the brunettes walk away, laughing cruelly amongst themselves. fear grips you as you stand there, contemplating the consequences of your forgetfulness. this time, he might seek to end my life.

sukuna spared your life once before, but now? you’ve truly done it.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

morning arrives, finding you sleepless and anxious, having spent the night wrestling with decisions on what gift would appease the king of curses. regret gnaws at you—you could have been better prepared.

if only you had listened to uraume’s instructions, you wouldn’t be scrambling now to please sukuna.

a loud groan escapes you, not just from lacking a suitable offering but from the impending threat of losing your life in front of everyone.

your thoughts shatter as your door creaks open. uraume enters, carrying a basket laden with ceremonial attire.

“sukuna-sama will return soon from his mission,” uraume states matter-of-factly, approaching your bedside and handing you the basket. your gaze fixes on the black and gold kimono. “in the meantime, prepare your gift for our king,” they remind you, prompting your heart to skip a beat. you nod gratefully as uraume exits the room.

you linger, captivated by the elegance of the wooden basket. slowly, an idea begins to take shape.

i hope this idea will work…

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hurriedly slip into the black and gold kimono uraume handed you, the fabric draping elegantly over your curves as you smooth out its silk folds.

grabbing the basket, you rush out of your room, navigating through the crowded hallways filled with servants, concubines, and guards all preparing to present their gifts to the king.

anxiety grips you as the chatter rises, signaling the ceremony may have already begun. finally reaching the garden, you drop to your knees, swiftly gathering orchids, red camellias, and wisterias.

heart pounding, you carefully arrange the brightly coloured flowers in the basket, leaving space for more. glancing around the vast garden for inspiration, you freeze as you spot a familiar figure in the distance, surrounded by guards and soldiers.

shit.

your pulse quickens as sukuna approaches the estate. you force yourself to calm down, needing clarity to finish your task.

turning to the fruit garden, you ignore the dirt on your kimono as you hurriedly gather peaches, oranges, and pomegranates from the trees, arranging them neatly in the basket.

with your last-minute gift finally perfected, you hope he will at least appreciate the effort. as cheers and applause erupt, signaling sukuna’s arrival, you hasten back to join the line of gift-givers, heart still racing with fear.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the ceremony unfolds in a chamber unfamiliar to you, far larger than sukuna’s usual domain, filled with hundreds and hundreds of servants seated on comfortable cushions, rows of expectant faces awaiting the ceremony’s commencement.

as you wait nervously, you glance around at the lavish offerings others have brought—paintings, gleaming gold jewelry, fine silk robes, ancient artifacts, perfumes, and oils. in contrast, your basket of fruits and flowers seems painfully simple.

whispers and snickers ripple through the crowd, directed at your low-value gift, almost insulting to the king, as the laughter grew louder and more pointed. the embarrassment increases, now overwhelming you.

“silence.”

his voice cuts through the room like thunder, instantly quieting the chatter as all heads bow. only you remain defiantly gazing at sukuna from his elevated throne. he looks magnificent, his towering frame draped in a dark cotton robe that accentuates his scarlet eyes—those unsettling eyes that draw you in despite your fear.

“do you consider yourself more worthy than others to not bow?”

his voice pierces through you, shocking you out of your thoughts. you hadn’t realized you were staring at him so openly. a nearby servant nudges your head down forcefully, a silent command to acknowledge sukuna’s authority.

uraume then signals the first row to approach sukuna with their gifts. as he settles into his throne, one of his lower eye fixates on you with a chilling intensity, reminding you of the difference of ground upon which you stand.

the two brunettes, who supposedly despised you, were the first to present their gifts. all eyes watched as they offered lavish amounts of gold and diamonds to sukuna. you couldn’t help but notice the satisfaction that spread across his face, a subtle amusement evident as he casually placed the gift with one of lower arms behind him.

they took their places on either side of his throne, making way for the next in line. as the line shortened, your turn approached rapidly.

you watched with nervous anticipation as sukuna accepted one of the servants gifts— the beautifully sculpted artifacts and golden treasures—

slash!

the servant’s head was cleanly severed, a loud thud echoing through the room. gasps filled the air as the shock spread through the assembled crowd. some of the seasoned servants were used to sukuna’s impulsive acts, but this was the first time you had witnessed such brutality. blood splattered across his face, yet he remained unfazed, awaiting the next offerings.

you covered your mouth, stifling a scream of horror. the fear of becoming the next victim intensified as you compared your gift to the high valued gift he had just received.

how could he appreciate your offering if he did not enjoy the artifacts?

you were on edge, continuously hearing numerous slash and thuds that kept racing your heart. his gaze seemed to linger on you, intensifying your dread.

unaware that it was your turn next, you suddenly found yourself on the elevated floor, your gift clearly visible to all below. laughter erupted among the watching servants, their anticipation of your downfall.

you felt all four of his eyes fixated on you, observing your trembling form, your eyes flickering nervously as you struggled to stay composed. stepping cautiously over a puddle of blood, you nervously approached his throne.

with trembling hands, you presented the basket of flowers and fruits. below, the two brunettes knelt, their mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

sukuna silently observed the basket, his large hands delicately holding the tiny fruits. he plucked out peaches, pomegranates, and oranges with two hands while the other two hands carefully examined the flowers, bringing them to his nose to inhale their earthly fragrance. then, to your surprise, sukuna’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“little one,” he said in a low velvety voice that sent shivers down your spine. “you surprise me.” 

the crowd exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of how to interpret sukuna’s unexpected reaction. the two kneeling servants looked up at sukuna in disbelief, their faces turning pale as they realized their own gifts, despite their value, had not elicited such a response.

sukuna carefully placed everything back into the basket, then lifted a ripe peach to his lips. his intense gaze locked onto yours as he took a deliberate bite, savouring the sweetness. loudly humming at the sweet taste.

unexpectedly, two of sukuna’s free hands reached out and gently grabbed your waist. you squealed in surprise at the sudden contact as sukuna swiftly spun you around, placing you on his lap with your back is against his chest. his third hand delicately tilted your chin, looking up towards him.

“‘kuna…” you began, mindlessly calling him by a forbidden nickname. but his lips cut off your words in a hungry kiss. the taste of peach lingered on his lips, blending with the sweet intensity of the moment. his kiss was fierce, brimming with a raw passion.

sukuna’s large hand snakes up to the crevice of your neck, and to your surprise, another mouth formed on his hand, trailing down to suck and kiss a sensitive spot on your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by his kiss, and he grinned at your reaction.

the brunettes stared up at the two of you with utter jealousy, never having received such intimacy from their king. the entire room gaped in shock; they had never witnessed the king of curses succumb so readily to a mere servant.

sukuna then pulls away, leaving you dizzy from the closeness. his presence seems to envelop you, making you feel intoxicated by his mere touch. with a gentle touch, sukuna adjusts your slouched posture, his hands holding you firmly against his broad chest. leaning down, he kisses your ear softly.

“you will judge which gift is worthy,” he begins, his closeness making your head spin even more. “if anything displeases you, I will take care of it,” he murmurs, hinting at even more slashes. another hand snaking up to your neck, softly applying pressure to restore your stability.

if anything you feel a rush of arousal.

“i will obey your every command, my queen. i am yours to command,” he declares softly, causing you to whimper in response. gasps fill the room as they witness the king of curses submitting himself to you.

“shall we resume, my lady?”