#serving time in a prison that is! 😊

[beef-unknwn]

Milf jumpscare

She has a lengthy list of crimes she's committed and one of them is slaying

[yuyu1024]

Prisoner

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞 smut, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, unprotected sex, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kinks, Smoking [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 3.0k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. Likes and reblogs are much appreciated 🫶🏻

Check pinned post for more

***

The sound of the wedding bells and the people cheering for your union are still ringing in your ears. You could also still envision your friends and families' warmest smiles and tearful hugs as they congratulate you. Everyone is so happy. They kept on saying that your wedding is the most magical and happiest they've ever seen.

Yes. Your wedding is the grand. The whole castle like church is filled with the whitest flowers that gives an illusion of the place is floating in clouds. You could also see shiniest silvers and krystals all over the place. It felt unreal.

You requested for a simple wedding but you are given more than that and you love it.

The wedding is also filled with people you both love and cherish. So you feel comfortable and loved all through out the ceremony and the party afterwards.

Yes. The wedding is amazing.

Yes. The wedding is to die for.

Yes. The wedding is like a fantasy.

It's because it is... it is a fantasy and no where near reality.

It is only for show to make people believe that you and the man you married is real.

Little did everyone know, your marriage is just arranged. You were just handpicked by the groom because he had no other option. He didn't like the women his parents are suggesting. So he decided to himself to pick someone from the ground and carry to his world. A world filled with darkness and resentment. A very, very, very cold world.

"Miss..." a voice echoes waking you up from your daydream

You slowly open your eyes to see the barely lit room that you are still in. You get up from leaning onto the edge of the bathtub and see your personal maid near the door. Her head lowered not making eye contact with you. She's holding your towel and bathrobe.

"I'm sorry, Miss. But Master asked for dinner to be served soon...he's on his way home."

You look down at your hands peeking from the warm milky water and then pick up the rose petals floating on it. "He's early today..." you mumble quietly

"I heard that the meeting with his father, Mr. Min finished early..."

"I wonder why..." you got up from the bath. She immidiately rush towards you, handing you the towel and bathrobe to use.

"Mr. Min told Master to go home early... because of you Miss..."

"Ah... really..." there is no hint of excitement in your voice. "You can leave now and help them prepare... I'll get ready myself..." you tell the maid, who is still not having any eye contact with you.

You don't sound happy nor sad. Actually, you do sound like a robot with no feelings when you talk.

You were not like this before. Yes you are a quiet person, an introvert and reserved but never like this. You changed quite a lot after getting married. It's not by choice. You just have to adapt with your surroundings.

Living in a big ass mansion with more than fifty staffs and bodyguards but no one to talk to. You have no one to spend your time but yourself. Your world became, quiet.

Yes you do have a husband. You married him. But the man is never home most of the time. And when he is, he does not even make conversations with you unless it's related to his parents; asking you to do this and that. To be present here and there. Telling you what to say and not to talk about. Basically, he only talks to you when its about your deal. Yes, deal.

Funny isn't? You married bound by a contract but that's it. Just by contract. No love is involved.

You know this since the beginning. You signed the marriage certificate plus the contract. You are aware. But you never thought that this will be the kind of life you will have. Alone. But what choice do you have? He offered your parents a huge amount of money for your hands. A money that could let them live a good life even when they retire early. That's how big it is.

And you agreed to it, not because of the money, but because you thought; that maybe, just maybe this is the universe's doing. Him and you meeting under this circumstances but then in the end, getting to know each other and that Maybe...... maybe learn to love each other. But you're wrong. You and Yoongi have been married for more than a year now and its already had taken a toll on you emotionally and physically.

"Miss... Master is just a few minutes away..."

You pause brushing your hair, staring at yourself through the full body mirror. You are wearing the plain black, fitted halter dress that you received as a gift from him. You like this dress because it emphasizes your figure and shows off a little skin because of the slit. He gifted you this dress during your honeymoon. It's probably the cheapest clothing you have in your closet but for you this is the most valuable.

"Do you want me to fix your hair, Miss?"

You put down your hair brush. "No thank you."

Then you sit down and start to put on your shoes. But instead of heels, you put your white canvas shoes.

"Ahm, no heels today, Miss?" She sounds a bit concern

"No." You stand up to look at yourself one last time before going. "My feet hurts so I'll wear something comfy for now..."

"I understand." She hurriedly puts down the heels she had on hand and runs after me.

It is true that your feet is hurting. You've been wearing heels everyday when you go to work. 'Work' meaning is socializing with your husband's family friends and circle. You represent him for charities and parties he can't and won't attend. It's not everyday but these past few weeks, you've been busy. You were away too most of the days of the week. That's why you also barely saw your husband. He's been away for a week and when he came back you got busy too. And tonight, this is the first time you'll be eating dinner with him.

"Tell him to reschedule... I won't be available tomorrow. I have other plans."

You hear him talking to the phone when you enter the dinning room. He's so focused that he didn't even bat an eye when you sit down across him.

"What do you prefer, Miss?" The male servant asks. "We have tender lamb chops braised in wine. Served with pea puree and then wild sea bass with sautéed smoked bacon, red chicory, runner beans and red wine sauce."

"The latter, please..." You try to give a smile to show appreciation but then you halt as you hear your husband slam his phone on the table. It starlted you a bit.

And also, up to now he still hasn't dared to look at you. He just went on to eating his lamb after his phone call.

You want to watch him eat or even glance at him every now and then, just so you could update his image from your memory. You just want to see him, Even just a tiny bit silhouette of his face behind the boquet of flowers between the two of you.

'Fuck.' You curse in your mind.

You always ask yourself why do you even bother wanting to see him or make conversation with him when you know you don't mean anything to him. For him, you are just one of his staff. The only difference is that he talks to about life when he wants to because its part of your business with him. And to add to that, you're only his 'woman' when he needs to release stress. Meaning you two have sex when he needs it. There is no date or time. When he calls you or he comes to your room unannounced, that's it. Saying no is not an option.

But come to think of it, the last time you two had sex was quite a long time ago. It's been months.

'Does this mean... even in sex... he's not satisfied with me? Did he looked for a different woman to do it with?' You talk to yourself

"Leave us." He orders to the servants.

You didn't dare to glance up. You just kept yourself occupied by poking the fish on your plate.

"Your hair got longer..." he says making you pause

Your eyes goes up and see him looking straight at you."Ah... yes..." You answer before looking back down.

"Why ask for the fish if you're not going to eat it?"

You raise your head up again, "hmm?"

He tosses his one up like it's water. "Someone reported to me that you've been eating less lately."

"My appetite is fine... I'm just...off a bit..."

You put down your fork and try to think before you speak again. You can tell him you're tired because how can you be? You have all the assistant you need and more. Plus you are living a lavish life. You could ask for a massage, a facial or swim in the pool whenever you want. You have everything. Except him.

That. You can't mention. You can't dare ask for his attention. He'll get mad. You know he will. He said it in the very beginning of this relationship. That 'You are just his wife in papers. And never expect something more from him.'

"I'll be fine..."

You look straight back at him. You can finally see him clearly. He slightly moved to the side, giving you an amazing view of his face. He's still look as beautiful as you remember. His long hair, sharp eyes, pinkish lips and the scar.

"How's the auction?" He pulls out a cigarette from the pack he have on the table and lights it off. "You bought a vintage jewelry?"

"I did."

"How much is it?" He puffs smoke. His eyes are still fixated to you.

"It's a bit expensive... I'm sorry." You look down at your knotted fingers. "I got it for 1.5M."

"Reasonable."

"I tried to intimidate the other wives... but it didn't work..."

"You need to work on that."

"I will."

"But don't worry about the money... it's going to a good cause..." He stands up and puts off his cigarette on his used plate. "My mother liked the the jewelry set. She said, thank you."

Relief fills your heart and made you relax a bit. You are thankful that his mother liked the one you picked.

It's the only one you bought in the auction. The event is for charity and Yoongi gave you the go signal to throw money like dimes. He said you can buy anything you want.

You liked a lot of things there. Everything is grand, beautiful, meaningful and unique. But none of them bring joy to you. You don't need them so your heart can't afford to splurge.

"I'll go and get ready for bed..." he says as he stand by the window, looking outside.

"Ah... okay..." you look down at your plate and pick up your fork, to continue eating.

"When you finish..." he starts to walk towards the door, "Come to my room."

"Hmm?" You blink, confused. "Your... room?"

He stops just as he got outside the door and adds before totally closing the door "Ask the maid to braid your hair..."

'Braid your hair'. That means he wants to have sex.

"Sure..." you answer in a whisper though he's already not in the room.

***

You are finally walking in the hallway, on the way to his room. Barefoot and naked. Almost naked.

It has been a routine of you to braid your long hair and then just wear a silk robe over to cover your body. He likes it this way. He have particular things he likes and you follow them.

It's almost 9pm. All the staffs are now in their houses. Yoongi asked them to leave earlier so no one could hear and disturb us.

You took a deep breathe before you get ready to knock on his door. But then to your surprise the double door swings open and you see him, in his black jogger pants and a sheer robe over his naked body. "What took you so long?" His brows are furrowed.

"Sorry..." you lower your gaze from his beautiful face to his toned body.

"Get in." He orders, turning his back on you.

You slowly enter the forbiden room. It's like how you imagine it to be; spacious, dark and earth tone colors everywhere. But the things you've never imagined seeing in there are towers of books and comics on the floor. Then there is a gaming area too.

"Do you play?" He asks as he sits down at the corner of his massive bed.

You shake your head, "No... I'm sorry."

He's smoking again. "Come here." He orders as he puff the smoke in betwern his lips. You move closer to him, cautiously. "Why do you look nervous? It's not like it's our first time."

You are now standing in between his legs. "Sorry..."

He rolls his eyes slightly as he puts his cigarette onto the ashtray. "Why do you keep on apologizing?"

"I..." you pause and wait for him to look back at you. "I don't know."

He snorts, "whatever."

He takes off his robe and throws it somewhere behind you. You were about to do the same as his but he stops your hand from untying your robe.

"Are you on birth control?"

You shake your head. "No... we... I mean... you use condom..."

He didn't say anything after that. He just continued; picks up your braided hair thats lying on your chest and pushes it away. Your breathing picks up as you could feel and see him gazing at you. You even felt your body jerk a little when his finger tip brushed over your hard nipple. The sensation is on max. You needed him to touch you. You missed him touching you.

Yes, this relationship may not be real for him but to you, it's something. Plus, we all have our needs. And when it comes to sex, he delivers. More than you can imagine. And you like playing along with his needs.

He pulls the string keeping your robe on you and just watch it fall off your skin like feather.

You feel your cheeks heat up. You are exposed. He can see that you are already turned on. Your breast giving it all away.

"Come closer..." he orders and you follow.

His hands slides over your hips then goes up to your torso, for him to hold on to you. Hug you. He begins to suck one of your boobs like a baby. His eyes are fully close and his grasping onto your skin like he had been so hungry for so long. He's really enjoying it.

You as well.

"Ahh..." you exhale as you throw your head back. His tongue doing all the works and tickling your insides by just playing at your tip.

After a few more seconds, he stops and looks up at you. And you looking down at him.

"You're so beautiful..." you whisper to him as you run your fingertips over the scar on his face.

You lower your head to meet his lips. He welcomed your kiss like it was meant to be there five minute ago overdue. He is into it more than usual.

He finally gets naked like you. His length is hard and up. It's already leaking and looked very inviting for you to sit on. But you're too shy to make the first move.

You did try to sit on his lap though, legs spread out and core is so wet and ready; just a few inches away for his throbbing length. Then his hand goes in between and starts to rub you in the most sensual way possible.

"Holy shit!" You gasps breaking off from the kiss for a second just to take it all in.

A smug on his face can be seen catching you off guard. He had never reacted to you reacting to his touches like this before.

Your hips begin to rock just to feel his fingers on you.

"Y/n..." You look at him after hearing him say your name. "No condom today."

"O-okay..."

"Make me feel good." He says softly but sturn, pulling you close to his length.

The tip touching your opening already made you roll your eyes. He's so warm and big.

"F-fuck!" You cry as he eases himself into you. "Holy shit! Ugh!"

You start to move slowly, feeling it all in you, finding the pace and ryth. you think you could do all night but at the same time make him satisfied.

"You got tighter." He grunts as you go up and down on him while holding on to his shoulder for balance support.

"Holy fuck!" Your eyes starts to get filled with tears. You found your spot and his length is hitting it perfectly. "Fuck!"

You watch him close his eyes and his face showing how good you're making him feel. His broes is furrowed and his mouth open and hissing tiny breathes with you.

You can't believe it. Someone like you who was inexperience with sex, is now married and making your man look so damn sexy moaning.

"I'm gonna come." He hugs you tigh and begins to kiss you again. "I want to come in you." He opens his eyes and meets yours.

"Fucking come in me." You say

He then carries you as he stands up, changing your positions. Now you're the one on the bed and he's on top of you.

"I will rip you apart." He snarls.

Every fucking thrust is mean and yet satisfying. You feel like your insides shuffled from every hit. But it's not pain. It's heaven.

"Fuck!" He hisses as he climaxes with you.

The warmth inside you feels like a warm blanket during winter. It's felt relaxing.

He is breathing heavily, your hands are intertwined and his still on top and inside of you.

"Yoongi..." you say breathlessly as you admire him over you.

He moves in for a kiss. A soft gentle kiss. "Stay with me tonight..."

*****

Part 2

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

In prison AU, I feel like darling would be an young cop in training and with not very much experience and that Darling just got out of college and just started the work. The reason why they hired Darling in an such dangerous prison (Probably the most dangerous prison as there's demons and ghosts and insane man) is because just like in the Mental Asylum AU, Darling is very good the job and pretty good at it.

Well those are my thoughts but I would like to hear yours words at the Darling in this AU, If you don't mind😊 .

Something Short (Prison AU Introduction)

Warning: Criminals, death row, rape and sexual assault mentioned, murder, violence, cannibalism, graphic descriptions of crimes, mental disorders, mental instability, sadism, apathy, sexual themes, robbery, drug use, sexual harassment, short tempers, big sentences I'm talking life, massacres and more. This AU is not for the faint of heart.

Yep! I didn't do all of them (I think I left out 2 people, but besides that they're all here.)

I feel like you would be having a paid internship at the maximum security prison due to you being the best cop at the college you're attending.

Here's what you need to know.

Jeffery Woods. A man in his early 30s, arrested for multiple accounts of serial Murder, Mutilation, Kidnapping, Torture, Stalking, Vandalism, Arson, Breaking and entering, Parricide, Drug use and rape. He has the reputation of assaulting, mocking, teasing and harassing guards. Jeff is often in solitary confinement, but that doesn't stop him from his usual actions. Has to be kept away from Jane Elizabeth Arkensaw due to them activity starting fights. He is deemed one of the deadliest prisoners. During your internship, he will be one of the prisoners you'll be interacting to help sharpen your skills. He will by far be one of if not the hardest to interrogate.

Tobias Erin Rogers. A man in his late 20s arrested for Serial murder, Torture, Vandalism, Arson, Stalking, Patricide, Breaking and Entering, Kidnapping, and suspected of multiple accounts of sexual assault but is yet to be confirmed. Currently sentenced to life in jail with possibility of parole after serving a minimum of 30 years. He suffers a handful of disorders and quite often causes trouble for both staff and other inmates. He struggled with controlling his emotions and his impulsive behavior which often leads to himself, inmates and staff to be harmed. Despite this, you will be interacting with him during your internship due to him being able to get a long with staff for a short period of time if he finds them "hot." Warnings, don't get too attached, don't believe most of the things he says, don't give or take anything from him, and don't let his suffering fool you. He has a history of using his suffering against others and actually led to him escaping when he was first sent here when he was 19, and they didn't capture him again until last year when he turned 27.

Liu Woods, also known as Homicidal Liu. A man in early to mid 20s, arrested for Serial murder, stalking, kidnapping, robbery, breaking and entering, assault, and vandalism. Currently serving a a sentence of 50 years but has a chance of parole once he serves 20. Liu is the little brother of Jeffery Woods, and after Jeffery almost murdered him, he developed an alter ego named Sully. Lui is is relatively quiet, observant, possessive and violent. But his violence gets worse when he's Sully. Lui normally doesn't harm guards or prisoners unless provocted, but he has attacked them with no apparent reason on multiple accounts. Liu is one of the prisoners you will be seeing often due to you working mostly in his section of the prison, where most of the pastas are such of Eyeless Jack and Toby. Warning when dealing with Liu, watch your words and actions, DO NOT touch anything of his unless it's a danger to him or others, and don't asked him too much about his past due to it being his biggest trigger in becoming Sully. If you're dealing Sully, be extremely careful, don't make sudden moves and don't anger him. Sully is extremely violent, sadistic but oddly childish. Sully is supposedly a seven year old according to both himself and Liu, so treat him as an extremely dangerous child.

Helen Otis, also labeled The Bloody Painter. A man between the ages for 25 to 35, arrested for Serial murder, kidnapping and breaking and entering. He culprit of both the 1994 school massacre and a murder case in 2003. He is sentenced to 45 years without parole. Helen is extremely apathetic, cold and selfish. Despite this however, he can be polite, a gentleman. All of his murders represent some form of art, using the blood of his victims to create beautiful work at every crime scene. Helen is two faced, meaning that his gentleman front is an act, nothing genuine. Helen doesn't fight staff or prisoners, only attacking if they were to attack him first. He's known to be polite to both staff and prisoners, even flirting with some of the staff members. You'll be using Helen's cases as a way to practice investing crimes scenes, and you'll be interacting with Helen occasionally in order to figure out the motives behind his murders. Warnings when interacting with Helen, don't fall for his manipulation, don't fall for his charm and never allow yourself or him to go off topic.

Eyeless Jack. A demon is what he is. Not a human, not a ghost, but a demon sent from hell. EJ's age is unknown, we don't how long he's been commiting his crimes or even how long he's been around. But, relying on appearance alone, he appears to be a 24 year old humanoid with no eyes. Ej is charged with serial murder, cannibalism, kidnapping, breaking and entering, and stalking. EJ's sentence is life in prison without parole and the judge is consider the death sentence. Ej doesn't talk much, always watching the other prisoners with hunger written on his face. He's often wearing a mask, but when he isn't you can see the Eyeless sockets and if he opens his mouth, the hundreds of tentacle like tongues he has. No staff member is allowed to be alone with EJ due to him in the past immediately murdering and eating the staff members' organs. EJ is known to be cruel, sadistic, highly intelligent and scarily patient, he's a predator. During your internship, you won't be interacting with EJ unless told, and even then you won't be allowed alone with him. But you can't shake off the feeling someone is following or watching you. Is that... Blood?

Laughing Jack. Another demon we holp in or facility. To be honest, we don't even know if he's a demon or an imaginary friend gone real, we really don't know. We don't know his age or how he manifested. Even if we rely on his appearance, we can't determine how old he might be. Jack is arrested for serial murder, torture, mutilation, kidnapping, and breaking and entering. Jack is extremely playful and childish, his main victims being families, but mostly their children, he claims he's a child's best friend, he's also evil, sadistic, cruel, and an overall mystery to us. He is sentenced to life in prison, but even then he has escaped multiple times. You won't be interacting with Jack at all during your internship, due to his case still being looked into and more and more charges are being found for him. But every day he finds you, talking to you, showing you tricks, being playful and entertaining, but you can't ignore the look in his eyes. You don't exactly know how to explain it, but whatever it, his plans for you are far from innocent fun.

Timothy Wright. A man in his early to mid 30s, arrested for serial Murder, Stalking, trespassing, kidnappings, rape, vandalism, breaking and entering, and arson. Sentenced to life in prison with possibility of parole after serving a minimum of 30 years. Tim is quite the unstable prisoner, often seen yelling and cursing and fighting people oen minute, and muttering, pulling at his hair, screaming and crying the next. Tim suffers from both schizophrenia and MPD, and due to us restricting his meds so he wouldn't abuse them causes him to be, uncontrollable. Tim has an alter ego named Masky. While Tim is more calm yet violent and moody and often in some form of distress, Masky is short-tempered, violent, sadistic, and an awful man. Whenever Tim is Masky he claims he doesn't even remember the stuff he did, but he describes it as him blacking out. Tim isn't out often so during your internship you'll mostly be interacting with Masky, not Tim. If your interacting with Tim, don't think for a second he's nicer or safer. Tim can be rude, mean, manipulative and violent, but with Masky it's at a whole different degree. When dealing with Timothy, don't fall for his manipulation, tricks, charms, nothing. In the past he's been known to have lighters, cigarettes, guns and other things just from having one conversation with a guard. If Tim starts become more and more unstable, leave and call a hard to take him back to his cell to calm down. You have to have Strong skin if you're gonna deal with Tim/Masky. He's ruthless, blunt, sadistic and will make you cry and breakdown, all for his amusement. He often fights with Tobias and yells at his 'friend' Brian, who often either ignores him and mocks him.

Brain Thomas. A man in his early to mid 30s, arrested for Stalking, serial Murder, Theft, Kidnapping, suspected of sexual assault but is yet to be confirmed, vandalism, hacking, blackmail, breaking and entering, arson and torture. Sentenced to life in prison with possibility of parole after serving a minimum of 30 years. Brian also has an alter ego by the name of Hoodie. Brian is often quiet, observant and keeps to himself most of time, mostly only interacting with Tim and a few others but tends to be by himself in his cell most of the time. He has a reputation of being a charmer and a flirt with the guards only to use them to get stuff such as phones and cameras. What he needs the camera's for, we don't know. Hoodie on the other hand rarely talks. And when he does it's slightly deeper than Brian's voice. Hoodie is way more hostile and alert than Brian, and unlike Tim, Brian remembers everything that he does while as Hoodie. When you interact with Brian, don't listen to words, don't fall for his charms, and more specifically, don't fall for his blackmail. It's not sure how, but Brian has dirt on everyone who works at the prison, and anyone who hasn't followed his orders became another victim to his blackmail. Brian, just like his co-workers Tobias and Tim, is very sadistic and cruel, and surprisingly apathetic. He admitted that everytime his victims would cry or tell him how bad of person he was, he'd only smile and laugh and told them that he didn't care. When dealing with Brian, don't talk too much, and don't talk too little. Brian is a gather, an interrogator, he knows how to get info by any means.

Benjamin Lawman, also known as Ben Drowned. A man in his between the ages of 18 and 23. Ben is a ghost, or more a vengeful spirit, but he's like a human, being able to touched and seen. Ben was charged with serial murder, kinda of a cult leader, drug use, kidnapping, hacking, vandalism, torture, stealing government files, tampering of evidence, and suspected of rape but is yet to be confirmed. He is also on death row but the judge is considering possibly taking him out if he's willing to help them with tech, but by how things are going so far Ben is stuck on death row. Ben is a sadistic, apathetic, oppressive, controlling, perverted, master manipulator who literally doesn't give a shit about anything. His mugshot was like those teenage dirtbag videos you see on TikTok. Ben is known for starting power outages, corrupting camera footage, sexually harassing staff and making the prisoners in the other half of the prison his bitch just by manipulating them. Ben doesn't see prison as prison, he sees it as a small little vacation, the only thing missing is the tech and drugs. You are forbidden from interacting with Ben due to him being a high level threat. Those who have to interact with him remove any and all tech, including walkies and watches. Ben is held in a special cell, with him cuffed and against the wall. When you walk into his room, his glitched out voice erupted into laughter and he has a deranged smile on his face. He's extremely close with Jeffery and EJ, all them being trialed together and sentenced together. When he heard about you from Jeffery, he paid you a little visit on the camera feed, even walking out of the computer and touching you. They thought moving the computers to a different building would stop him, nope! If you ever were to run into Ben, protocol is to do what he says and get out as soon as possible. Ben loves how hot you are, he mainly wants your ass. Ben wants you purely for his own pleasure, both sexually and physically, he wants to hurt and fuck you so bad, but until he gets the chance to work with you, he must wait.

Jonathan Blake, or popularly known as The Puppeteer. A ghost between the ages of 20 to 30. An evil spirit. Charged with serial murder, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, and Abuse. He's been sentenced to life in prison without possiblity of parole. The Puppeteer is a dangerous and hostile being, in the past having interns and staff who struggled with their mental states to kill themselves after interacting with him only once. Due to this, you'll be getting a mental evaluation to see if you're classified to interact with him during your internship here. The Puppeteer does tend to be quite an emotional rollercoaster, sometimes he randomly enters states of rage and confusion before shutting down. We don't know much about his past, any time we tried asking he'll either be confused or enter a state of rage. If you are classified to interact with him, here's what you need to know. We don't call him Jonathon, he doesn't respond to the name, it's possible he might've blocked out his memories, so we call The Puppeteer, since that's what he responds to. Don't let him get to your head. The Puppeteer is infamous for the mass suicides in the area. He's extremely manipulative and also a charmer, so it's important not to fall for his antics. We does have two confirmed accomplices, but we are yet to confirm who exactly they are, nor have we caught them. One day during your internship you were caught by, golden strings? That's when you saw him. He claims that you were too beautiful to kill, but you would be perfect as a puppet. His mindless, emotionless puppet. Be careful around him, very careful.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

I saw your requests are open! I would LOVE to see Alfie with number 8, “I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” 🥵

I’m all about dark too if you feel like it. Thank you! 😊

Can do, one order of Alfie with a large side of dark!

Warnings - Dark!Alfie & smut below the cut. Minors DNI.

The wood emits an odour of damp, the drips from the leaky pipe above it moistening the surface, adding to the overall old, musky fragrance of the cellar. Long ago, it was used for storing wines of the finest vintage, but now the space serves as something else entirely.

The leaky pipe continually drips onto the beam above, your hands and wrists wet, yet not enough for you to struggle free from your rope bindings. How many years does it take wood to rot, you wonder at times. One snapped beam would equal your freedom.

Would you truly want to leave here, though? That would of course mean leaving him.

He might be the one who keeps you in this state of torment, but imagining a life without it is perhaps bleaker than the surroundings you're held prisoner within. Who and what would you be, if not Alfie's plaything?

The sound of heavy footfalls creaking the floorboards above signals his impending appearance, the creaky cellar door opening, the lamp he carries with him finally bringing a little illumination into the darkened space.

He descends the stairs carefully, sniffing, clearing his throat, the scent of him cutting through the musk and the dust, Alfie placing the lamp down on the table.

"'Ello, poppet. Want me to let ya down for a bit, do ya?"

You nod. "Yes, sir." You used to cuss him out, spit in his face, kick him, bite him, but now you know, it all goes a lot more smoothly if you show what he demands. Obedience.

"Good. Right, come on, then. Let's get this rope untied, yeah." Reaching to the hook connected to the upright support strut, he unwinds it, the tension slowly slipping from your wrists and arms as the tightness is loosened. He only lets you go when he has use for you. Falling asleep standing up has become a talent you have mastered, although your weary bones ache for a bed.

Walking to you, he watches as you shake a little life back into your arms, your bindings still tight, the rope that once tied you to the beam above shaking gently. "Still pretty, ain't ya? Bit pale, though. Then again, I suppose ya would be for not seein' no sunshine for a couple 'a months, innit?"

His chuckle, all foreboding grit and rumbling darkness, sets your skin on edge. It's thrill laced with trepidation, an exotic, potent mix, goose pimples rising as your blood begins to run hotter, Alfie reaching for your face. His thumb skims your cupid's bow, eyes touring you as he leans in close.

He smells of rum and deviance, his breath warm where it flutters against your cheek. “I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You know exactly how to oblige him, sinking to your knees, waiting patiently as he unfastens his trousers. You can already see the outline of his colossal erection through the black fabric swathing it, your captor pulling himself free, pumping his bulky shaft in a gold ring-adorned grip a few times before steering it to your mouth. "Open wide, love. Yeah, that's a good girl."

He shows no mercy, pushing forth between your lips, his hand fisting in your hair and making you take every last, fat inch of him. You choke him down, sucking gently to begin with, your tongue working the underside of his shaft as he slips back and forth.

The wet heat encasing him has him grunting deeply, cock twitching against your tongue. "Yeah, darlin'. You suck cock like a good'un, don't ya?" He moves faster, fucking your mouth with greater purpose, the need to spill into your throat consuming him.

It never takes too long, your mouth just too delicious an outlet for him, the thrill of knowing he's using you as nothing more than a mere toy adding to the ecstasy that rockets through him. He spurts thick and plentiful onto the back of your tongue, his cum dripping down your throat, his eyes two shards glittering at you through the low light.

It's the sight of him above you like that which burns itself into your brain, keeps you warm and lit up when the illumination is gone, when he's tied you up again and left you all alone in the dark once more.

Sometimes, it's in the darkness where we find the light. You understand only too well that Alfie's darkness is absolutely no exception.

[lunastrophe]

Hello! Thank you so much for the answer(s) to my previous question(s); always so eloquent and enjoyable to read! I have a few more, about Minthara's time in the cult of the Absolute.

How long do you think she was in the cult?

What made Z'rell hate her so much?

When she says "The things that were done to me... they broke my mind", is she discussing the mind control alone, and if so, does that imply they brainwashed her repeatedly?

Could she access her memories in those times, or were they warped/otherwise hidden?

Hello again! 😊

🕷️Minthara's Time In The Cult - I am not sure if it is possible to tell exactly how long Minthara was in the cult, but I think that it might be several months (less than eight months, though).

Minthara left Moonrise shortly after being infected and for some time, she was fighting in Ketheric's army, participating in raids and battles. Then she was given command of the goblin camp - and she has already managed to settle in there when we meet her. Things like that take time.

Also - if I am not mistaken - Durge was betrayed around eight months before the Nautiloid crash (Orin's note suggests that). Minthara apparently never saw them in Moonrise, which may suggest that she was recruited after Durge vanished.

🕷️Minthara And Z'rell - honestly, I suppose that Z'rell did not really need a reason to hate Minthara. She seems to generally hate all her subordinates: she constantly bullies them, threatens them and shows her dominance whenever she can. Minthara - with her noble female drow / Baenre mindset - probably did not take it well!

Also, during her short time in Moonrise, Minthara was likely often seen with Orin. And then Ketheric personally chose her to serve in his army. I imagine that Z'rell might be envious, seeing a freshly recruited True Soul - and technically, her subordinate - already having such favour of two Chosen.

🕷️Each memory that returns to me is more disturbing than the last. The things that I did in the name of the Absolute... the things that were done to me. They broke my mind - I always thought that Minthara speaks here merely about her time in the cult: all the memories are returning to her and she starts to fully realize what the Absolutists did to her.

She may also refer to her most recent torture in Moonrise prison - when the torturers broke her mind and almost erased her personality.

I do not think that she was repeatedly brainwashed. After she was infected, the tadpole apparently did most of the work when it comes to indoctrination, erasing some things from Minthara's memory and giving her some false memories (about her first visit to Moonrise, first impression of the Absolute and so on).

🕷️True Souls do not seem to remember that they were tadpole'd and brainwashed. The Absolute's power is apparently so overwhelming that they remember only some basic facts about themselves, but the rest is warped by the tadpole's influence.

I am convinced that Minthara could not access the memories of her infection / indoctrination when she was under the Absolute's control. She did not even remember that she came to Moonrise with other drow and with a mission - the tadpole changed her memories and convinced her that when she arrived to Moonrise, she was immediately in awe of the Absolute and willingly joined the cult.

[sunnyrealist]

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars ☀️🌑✨ book cover ✨🌑☀️

All of the artwork was created by @giselsann-opencommissions. Thank you! It has been a pleasure working with you. 😊

Check it out! (MDNI - this story is only for adults.)

Some overview and context for The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars:

The story takes place in 1899. Sebastian is 25.

At 16, Seb was given a life sentence in Azkaban, where he was tortured, emotionally manipulated, forced into a fighting ring, etc.

When he was 21, the Kelpies, a gang of ruthless dark wizards, conducted a prison break. A fellow inmate suggested taking Sebastian with them, considering him a potential asset due to his combat skills.

Seb spent years with the gang, forced to do their bidding while hiding from the Ministry. Eventually, he was caught. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement gave him two choices: go back to Azkaban or serve as a double-agent to bring the gang down. He chose the latter.

Post-Azkaban, Sebastian never attempted to fit in anywhere or get close to anyone because he knows all too well that everything can be taken away in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t dare to hope. He has no permanent home and never even tried to contact his old friends from Hogwarts, figuring they are better off not even knowing he is out. He doesn’t want to “destroy their lives again.”

Seb is angsty - lonely and depressed. He desperately needs a hug and some good lovin’.

Enter Kate Mayflower, a positive, kind, friendly, and mischievous former Hufflepuff who works as the Hogwarts assistant librarian. Sebastian meets her in the Leaky Cauldron on her 24th birthday while she celebrates with her friends. He falls hopelessly in love with her, the woman who gave him a rare chance to find happiness again.

Kate is a great match for him and exactly what he needs - the sun to his moon. However, she is uncomfortable with dark magic, which pulls them apart for a time.

Other stuff in the story:

Lots of fluff - Kate and Sebastian are romantics.

Tons of smut, including sex at Hogwarts

Mysterious circumstances around Anne’s final years (sadly, she passed away in 1894)

Kate’s parents do not approve of her relationship with Sebastian.

A dangerous conflict with Ominis

Reincarnation/soulmates

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars is at its heart a love story but also about Sebastian building a new life, learning to forgive himself, and figuring out who he truly wants to be.

[magnusbae]

"Quit struggling, you will only make it worse."

Obikin, pretty please /ᐠ - ⩊ -マ Ⳋ

Thank you 🥰 Now imagine if Anakin fell a few years earlier than in canon, still has his limbs and pretty hair, and is currently serving Darth Sidious while fighting on the Separatist side. Something like that 😊 1,137w - vaderwan

▾▾▾

“Quit struggling, you will only make it worse.”

Vader bares his teeth and snarls. He snarls like an animal, like he’s a Tusken Raider and it’s the only way he knows how to communicate in. The thought fills him with an even deeper rage, makes his stomach turn in fury and sickness. He is better than that, he is better than them. He is Lord Vader, not some animal to growl and bark— he does not give a kark. 

He spits at Kenobi’s feet and glares up with as much hatred as his eyes would permit without burning white blind from it. 

“Kriff yourself.” Vader grits out when all he receives for his efforts is an infuriatingly smug smirk. (it’s sad, it’s sad, it’s sad)(he ignores it).

“I think I shall pass.” Kenobi says in that sarcastic manner of his that he reserves for Darksiders only. It should not sting Vader as it does, to be spoken to as if he was one of many.

He should be more than that, he is more than that. He’d make him, he’d—

“Please do stop thinking so loudly, you are ruining an otherwise lovely force weather.” Kenobi cuts this line of thought with some sort of Bantha Poodoo that wouldn’t make sense even on the best of days, least of all when he is busy tying Vader up like he was a Life Day’s gift. 

“Force Weather? Have you lost it entirely old m— argh-” Vader sucks in a breath when he feels the durasteel wire cut deep within his skin, so tight he can feel the instant numbing, indicating that the blood had effectively stopped flowing into that limb.

Concern spikes within Vader, he already has one prosthetic, and he is not very fond of the idea of more, Obi-Wan wouldn’t…. Would he….? 

There is a moment in which he thinks that he would. Thinks that Kenobi had lost any sentiment toward his old apprentice, even the guilt that had kept him from killing him in all the previous times he had managed to get the upper hand. (Through luck)(It’s luck, nothing else.)

Losing a limb due to Kenobi’s poor tying techniques would not be technically Kenobi deciding on killing him but— “Ngh.” He hisses out, teeth scraping together as Kenobi lessens the punishing grip of the wire.

Relief  flood Vader, scorching in its intensity.

“A little too tight there.” Obi-Wan chirps, all amusement and good nature. (He sounds old.)(He sounds broken.) “Apologies, Sweet.” he says with his characteristic charm, his typical ease. (He sounds as if he’d like to retch.)(he sounds sick.)

Vader hates it. Hates. Hates. Hates. He wants the anger, the hurt, the words of disappointment and fury and passion. (Love, love, of love.) He wants Kenobi to be honest, to be direct, to be him. The him that only he knows, that only he saw. He wants Kenobi to, (his chest fills and hurts, his lungs collapse with an inhale he doesn’t manage to keep, his eyes close and he cannot, he cannot lie—) care. Care, he wants him to karkin care. Even a little, even sometimes. Care enough to hurt, care enough to scream, care enough to hurt him. 

“Up and about now.” Obi-Wan says and hauls Vader to his feet. Even in this Kenobi is careful to not hurt him unnecessarily. Do not hurt prisoners, a Jedi would say. The Codes. It’s all he sees in him. The Codes he must follow in order to fulfill his duties. No, no. No, no and no. Anakin— Vader is more, he is more, he was, he is more. 

Twisting about to face Kenobi without being stopped is hard enough, his balance off with the way his arms are bound painfully behind his back. He manages it. He’s quick enough, skilled enough— determined enough.

Without a single thought, without a moment of consideration, Vader’s eyes lock onto his target. The neck.

It’s exposed just enough, with the layers of robes covering the curve of it an the beard reaching just the top of it, there’s just enough space.

Vader strikes as he always does, without warning, without hesitation. One moment he is standing there, wide eyes alight with orange-yellow, the next his lips are closing around soft flesh, teeth sinking.

It’s all over in but moments, and yet the way Obi-Wan groans, the way his throat tenses and he swallows, the way he shudders when he pushes Vader off hard enough to make him stumble and fall back onto the ground— the way there’s blood on that neck, on Vader’s tongue— it’s all worth it.

Vader will do it again, no matter the consequences, no matter how it might look to someone who didn’t understand. 

He will make absolute sure that Kenobi never forgets, never.

Vader makes a point of licking at his lips as he smirks at Kenobi, tilting his head from side to side in a way he saw his Master do while in a good mood and flirting. On him it looks mocking and he knows it.

He takes pleasure in Kenobi having no smart retort to it, no easygoing banter to masquerade with. Vader got him, he had won. 

He is almost angry when the sound of engines breaks through, hundreds of them, all belonging to Sidious. Or the Separatists, as the Republic still foolishly believes. He will never know what words had died on Kenobi’s tongue as he looked up and then down at Vader, calculating his chances of outrunning a fleet of battle ships while carrying an unwilling Sith on his back. 

“Not in your favor, huh?” Vader asks, laughing, not even bothering to get up, instead he just flops to lie on his back. It pains his arms terribly, but he does not care. He looks at the sky as if it was a starry sky you’d gaze upon, wish upon.

“Run now, Kenobi. You’re so good at it, after all.” He does not look at him, does not want to see that back turned on him. (Again. Again. Again that.)

The silence from Kenobi’s side is a heavy one, a painful one. Then he forces out amusedly (Chokes on it.) “We’ll have to rain check our little date, my Dear.” (He does actually choke on it.) (Vader hears, he always does.)

“So long.” The man who raised him cheers, all good spirits and not a care in the world. Then there’s the sound of Obi-Wan’s light feet as he force-runs towards his own ship. Leaves him. 

Anakin closes his eyes and all the world falls down. 

There’s only the sound of shooting and the flavor of Obi-Wan’s life on his tongue. For now, it’ll do. For now, it’s enough. (It is not.)(It never is.)

[mslanna]

Here is a Raphael x Tav prompt for you:

"I thought you died, you bastard!"

As you wish, Nonny. As you wish. 😊

they/them Tav without body configuration sfw, slightly spicy towards the end read it on AO3

Death and What Comes After

"I thought you were dead, you bastard!" Tav stomped through the Devil's Den with angry strides, crossing the short distance quickly. "You hear me? Dead! I thought you were fucking DEAD!" Their voice rose in cadence and volume with every word uttered.

Without thinking, Tav had grabbed the front of Raphael's doublet. They shook the devil who allowed it with a slight frown.

"Yes," he finally drawled, taking Tav's hands and stopping them short with a strong grip. "That was the idea."

The words froze Tav on the spot. Their hands hung limp in his hold and all tension seeped out of them. Tav shook their head slowly while their shoulders slumped.

It took Raphael a moment to realise they muttered under their breath so quietly it almost escaped even his infernal ears. No. Tav repeated it over and over like an incantation. He let go of their hands that dropped to Tav's sides like stones and turned to pour a generous shot of whisky.

"Here." He held the tumbler out to the mortal. "Maybe that will help."

Tav sniffed the glass suspiciously. It smelled of strong alcohol. How was that supposed to help? On the other hand, did it even matter? Unblinking they gulped down its contents. A mistake but one they would not show. Tav's throat burned like fire. It sure distracted them from the unbridled rage that had carried them here.

"Better?" The devil's condescending tone fanned Tav's fire.

"Not. One. Bit." They bit out. "I left you alive you son of a bitch! I made sure you'd get out. And you-" Tav broke off. Spelled out loud, their reasoning showed subtle flaws. They held out the tumbler again and Raphael refilled it silently.

This time Tav took it a little slower. The pain trickling down their throat was an excellent distraction from the thoughts that lined up neatly in their brain. It was possible that Raphael had not discerned their reasoning. But did he really believe they'd ever make a deal with a devil? Even if it was not for their soul. It was a slippery slope. Tav held out the glass again.

"I think you had enough for now." Raphael set the bottle back down on the sideboard. When Tav made a lunge for it, he stopped them as easily as he had held their hands prisoner. In his human for the devil was a lot stronger than he looked.

"None of that now," he tutted. "Regain your manners and maybe we can discuss another shot."

Tav stared into their empty glass. The fire had moved from throat and stomach into their whole body. It merged nicely with the anger already bubbling there. "Thought you were dead," they mumbled again.

"I thought you were DEAD!" It's a scream this time and with the last word, Tav hurtled the glass at Raphael's head.

The missile popped out of existence just before it reached the devil and Tav looked around for something else to throw. When there was nothing, they threw themself instead. With fist flying they went at the devil.

Raphael caught them easily. The alcohol made Tav sloppy and their arms lolled about in the devil's grip as they writhed to free themself.

"Whatever are you trying to achieve?" His patience was running thin. This mortal had seemed like a good investment, right up until they refused his deal and stole the Orphic Hammer.

That Tav let him live would be their last mistake. But it would be a slow process. A delicacy to draw out over decades. Sweet suffering that tormented Tav until they'd crawl to his door to beg for a deal. A deal he would refuse. A smile stole to his lips. As tempting as it was to destroy them here and now, revenge was best served as a prolonged buffet.

"Revenge?" Tav snapped. "I let you live. I get that bloody, stupid, gods-damned, heavy ass crown that's rotti-"

"You what?" Raphael clapped a hand over the blabbering mouth. The crown was lost when the Elderbrain was defeated. It had vanished and his best efforts had been unable to discover it. He had had his money on Mystra and that wizard, but neither had a trace of it. He lowered his glare back to Tav. The mortal stared at him with big eyes, mouth very still under his palm.

He removed his hand slowly. "You have the Crown of Karsus?"

"'f course," Tav mumbled and cast their eyes down, away from his hot gaze. "Defeated the stupid brain thing and there it was y'know. All shiny and – well, wet because I had to fish it up from the Chionthar, yes?"

"You did not give it to your wizard?" Raphael was proud how little of his strain showed through his voice. Though Tav might have been to inebriated to notice.

"Gale?" Tav lauched. "Hells no! I'd never! Gods are horrible things and Gales is my friend. I'd never wish such a fate on him. He's happy now."

Silence fell and Raphael counted the beats of his heart by the blood roaring in his ears. "And?" he finally prompted.

"And what?" Tav blinked, their eyes slightly glazed.

He should not have allowed them a second whisky. Raphael sighed inwardly. "You fished the crown out of the river and then?" Raphael asked as gently as his impatience allowed.

"Oh. I put is under the sink. Nobody ever looks under the sink except they want to clean. Nobody wants to clean my place. Not even me. So-"

Raphael clamped his hand back over Tav's mouth. He was this close. Not only to the crown but also to strangling the infuriating mortal. Under their sink. All this time he had hunted for the crown in every corner of the material planes and the hells. While it sat idly and unprotected in Tav's home.

"And you did not seek me out-"

"Because I thought you were dead you bastard!" Tav bit free from his grasp. "You bloody, fucking rat bastard!" They hiccuped on the last words, swallowing hard and looking away.

Still Raphael caught the glitter of water in their eyes. Not just anger. Grief? Relief? He took a step back and looked Tav over. Their anger seemed once more to simmer under the surface. Yet Tav breathed hard and sniffled to themself.

"You did not rejoice in my death then."

"If I would have rejoiced, I wouldn't have let you live," Tav snuffled. "Didn't want you dead. Don't want you dead. Glad you're alive." Their eyes flickered uncertain and came to rest on the bottle of whisky.

"You – grieved?" Raphael asked, taking the whisky for safekeeping.

"Yeh." Tav didn't look away from the amber liquid sloshing inside the bottle. "Rat bastard weren't even dead."

The wheels in Raphael's mind turned ferociously. Most plans of revenge crumbled before Tav's confessions. They had the Crown of Karsus. Kept it safe. Grieved his death. What a strange and wonderful combination. He swung the whisky slowly.

"I suppose I apologise for showing you images of my death in Helsik's shop." He held out his free hand and the vanished tumbler dropped into it. "If you forgive me for not being dead."

Tav narrowed their eyes. Those things were not the same. Still. Raphael was not dead. And he probably still wanted the Crown of Karsus so maybe they'd meet again. He didn't strike them as somebody who rummaged through other peoples' sinks unbidden.

"Okay," they finally said. "Deal."

Raphael tilted his head. "Now you deal?"

Tav snorted. "Figure of speech."

"Never with a devil." He stepped towards Tav who took a step backwards. "We are very orderly beings. A deal is a deal and needs a seal."

Tav stepped back further as he approached. "Handshake?" they offered.

"I have a much better plan."

Tav came up against one of the couches scattered about.

"Have a seat."

They dropped, not that there was anywhere else to go. Unthinking they accepted the tumbler and Raphael filled it again.

"A toast. To a good future collaboration." Raphael smiled like a knife and it was as reassuring as looking down the business end of one.

Still Tav nodded. "Your glass?"

"I prefer my liquor served in a quivering bellybutton," the devil replied and knelt before Tav. He pried their knees apart slowly and carefully raised their shirt until Tav's stomach was exposed. "If you don't mind."

Tav closed their eyes. They had come with very different intentions. Though they never had thought about what they'd do once they got their hands on the devil. Time to find out.

[ackerifle]

Captain Levi x prisoner of war reader please 😊 🙏

spoils of war!

yan. captain levi ackerman x fem captain. reader (ft. special operations squad)

+ CW. — au: canon adjacent, war crimes, treason, imprisonment, abuse of power & authority: mistreatment/abuse of pow, non-sexual nudity, choking, restraints & hot iron branding, uncharacteristically long post because it’s combined with another work i was making; not proof-read.

it came as no surprise that paradis island was capable of producing and preparing such an overwhelming abundance of competent and proficient soldiers. even if many civilians had initially criticized their old-fashioned choice of weaponry, their contentious plays on the battlefield, and even their morales as a stand-alone concern in itself; their doubts would soon be long forgotten once the soldiers had returned, claiming their first victory that would soon become countless victories. the war may still have yet to be won, but it is no secret that lady luck certainly favored the survey corps’ soldiers with all she had.

and that is precisely why levi had so easily been able to whisk you away with not so much as a glance from his subordinates and superiors alike, during an attack no less. in retrospect, you should have adamantly defended your right to fall back on this particular mission to your commander, should have let this great burden fall onto the shoulders of one of your fellow captains, and have been done with the whole situation entirely. but there was much more for you to prove to your commander and newfound nation than your other marleyan peers.

even if you had demonstrated your worth as a valuable asset time and time again, had gotten your hands dirty for the sake of marley’s name and conquest, serve your own motherland and its peoples only to turn your back on them halfway through the war; you would remain the only ‘foreigner,’ in power, a potential traitor in the eyes of soldiers who were your supposed comrades. if you could betray once, you could betray again— and those who held such leery and low beliefs of you simply could not be reasoned with.

but the judgment and distaste that was made very well clear to you by the marleyan military was nothing in comparison to levi's contempt. actually, it was captain levi now, although that isn’t such a shocking revelation when you take into account that you had also been promoted to captain status during your years away from home. however, your title was a gift from marley, not paradis, and that alone made all the more difference.

you hadn’t remembered him when the two of you came face to face after half a decade. when all of your soldiers had either met their final fates or been broken down with wounds beyond repair, captured and detained; you too, had fallen with them. and when levi had stormed down the ghastly corridor of deadmen and far worse to reap his reward of the fight well won, he had found you. the first thing he noticed was that you looked better, happier. far happier than he could’ve ever dreamed to see you when you were still in paradis— even with the absolutely disgusting mud, grime, dirt, blood, and shit smothered onto your raw and tender skin, with injuries that were likely already infected and guaranteed to last you a lifetime of scars, and well over half of your comrades-in-arms deceased. for someone who was just about to lose everything, you seemed so alive.

at the time, he had approached you wordlessly. slowly trekking his way down to your pathetic and forlorn figure, limp with lassitude and slumped in defeat in a messy pool of your own blood. given enough thought, levi thinks he must’ve looked angry back then. teeth grinding together behind a disturbing sneer, and eyes left wide open until they felt dry enough that he may as well have cried; levi acted far quicker than even his own thoughts could. as the end of his blade dipped beneath your chin, experimentally tapping the sharp side against your neck before raising the entire weight of your head until you could face him.

for but a moment's time, something vulnerable had flashed through levi’s eyes, and he remembered this feeling from his youth, that of a scared boy. his relentless heart wouldn’t stop in its persistence to beat out of his rib cage, and his sentiment, his fondness for you had resurfaced with bone chilling ardor. he was rendered completely, and wholly speechless. mouth agape and stunned into silence, but levi must have let your name slip from his lips in a voiceless whisper, because you finally opened your eyes, “do- do i, know you.” and so you had forgotten all about him.

you truly had done something so utterly unforgivable. leaving him all alone and abandoned while he remained under the unanswered pretense that you were taken; only to have been double backing on paradis the entire time, while he was the only one suffering, left in egregious shambles over your absence. so now he was going to do something unforgivable to you.

“get up.” levi always finds a way to announce his presence before making his way down to your cellar— as if the sound of him (unnecessarily) slamming the rickety door open and stomping on the the concrete steps wasn’t enough for you to catch the hint. a faint window of yellow light from above could be seen framing his silhouette on the uneven stone ground, and you brace yourself for whatever words of wisdom levi has so graciously decided to enlighten you with today, “it’s your lucky day.”

biting back a mirthful huff and an equally incredulous leer, you study his next words carefully, “we’ve got visitors coming today.” you’re quite observant of how he intentionally takes his time when it comes to unlocking your cellar door, his eyes don’t leave you, as if he enjoys seeing you imprisoned behind bars, and it makes your skin crawl, “visitors?”

your copycat repetition was intended to be silent, though you can’t help but ponder his statement aloud. there is something odd here, levi slides the door open and enters the caged room with you, you don’t know what it is, he grabs you by the arm far too intimately for someone holding a hostage, no— you know what it is; his voice, levi doesn’t bother to close the cellar door as he guides you down the ill lit, damp and dreary hallway, he almost sounds like he’s looking forward to having these ‘visitors’ coming today.

“you’ll be happy to see them.” as if reading your mind, levi offered his ominous words of assurance, if one could even call them that. opting to ignore his response in favor of studying your surroundings, partially because you weren’t conscious for the trip down, and partially to soothe your nerves, you have distant memories here— “familiar to you yet? the old headquarters’ basement.”

levi bites his tongue to refrain from adding in a sardonic jab about how you would have been there to witness the construction of the new headquarters, the symbol of paradis island’s first victory in the war, if you had simply stayed. but levi trusts that he’s spent enough time re-indoctrinating your pasts together with the days he’s been granted leave to tend to his war trophy. but his heart still aches every time he remembers your neglectful memory was due to your own carelessness, nothing to do with marley brainwashing you, or any sort of militaristic torture into subservience. was he that insignificant to you that over the span of five short years, you would think no more of him?

the two of you seem to recall your trainee days on paradis very differently, and the notion itself puts levi in a sour mood, “hurry up, the ropes don’t make you fucking immobile.” he barks with a shove in between your shoulder blades, “cuffs with enough leeway for me to move a single centimeter at a time? how accommodating!” levi shoots you a dark glare, “behave.”

it leaves your body sore when you come to a standstill atop the steps, vision straining at the introduction of an unhealthy combination of natural and artificial lighting on your luminescent-deprived eyes. levi takes advantage of your poorly adjusting eyes, suavely escorting you into a new room. there is something that you notice immediately upon entering the unrecognizable area, it is the smell of smoke. instinctively, your eyes frantically search the room to locate the source, landing on a small coal fire, all the while levi continues to usher you forward until you bump into a wooden surface.

peering down, you’re greeted by a low, yet unusually and unconventionally capacious table. each corner holds an individual ring of rusted metal, hooked to the ends with suspicious purpose. but before you can dwell on it too much, the force of levi’s hands on your shoulder and waist have you coming to your senses. with one calculating motion, he swivels you around, turning your body until you’re faced towards him, and although your hands are tied together behind your back, you struggle like you can touch him. levi is unfazed by whatever attempts you can bring yourself to muster to aid in escaping his grasp, dropping his hands to your torso with dangerous constriction before slamming you down onto the table with all his might.

your lower back takes the brunt of the force, and by god does it hurt. the edge of the table digs spitefully into your back and spine, causing you to momentarily scream in agony. and in an instant, levi distracts you from the pain when his hands start roaming your body, starting with your shirt. when he gets closer, the severity of the situation finally sinks in, and you only hope you’re wrong about what will happen next. wildly moving in his hold does little when your limbs are bound, and your legs are lifted too high from the floor for you to even do anything, and despite still maintaining full control over your movements, levi lets out an annoyed grunt either way.

his right hand quickly descends down onto your neck, enveloping your airway with a firm squeeze, enough to get you to stop violently staggering about. levi is more concerned with the position this has now put him in, only a menial worry, really; unbuttoning your shirt with one hand proves to be rather difficult, so he’ll have to tear at the fabric. like it was an ordinary sunday morning, he is more worried with the tattered frays and cloth pieces your blouse will discard, than you, a literal captive, scrambling to get out from beneath him. he decides he will both unbutton and rip the shirt, using his thumb to sloppily shove the buttons through while also dragging the article further down your body.

“fuck, don’t. this is inhumane, even for an enemy soldier!” it hadn’t crossed his mind that you may have taken this the wrong way, his intentions that is. but you did give him an idea for another day, “well, you aren't quite a soldier— no, not even a civilian of paradis anymore, now are you?”

levi halts his movements, but doesn’t release you, instead, feigning a thoughtful pause before continuing, “but that doesn't matter, even if you miraculously find your way back to marley, they won't want you back, not after i'm done with you.” your heart drops, and your thrashing increases tenfold, causing his grip on your throat to loosen with every move, but levi is able to ignore it with his determination to get those insufferable buttons undone.

the sound of a door and hurried footsteps interrupt any frenetic and hysterical thought you’re having, even levi tilts his head in the direction of the clamoring, “hm, it seems they’ve arrived.”

casual chatter could be heard nearing the two of you, and when voices were revealed you were horrified. gathering at the open doorway was a group of four soldiers, or so you had presumed, as they had the same matching uniform as levi. there were three men, and one woman; all of which who are holding something. two with the same rope that had your arms and legs tied together, one with a singular iron rod, and the lady with a water basin and a washcloth resting halfway inside the bucket and halfway on the outside. and what terrified you even further was that they seemed unperturbed by the sight before them, it’s almost as if their smiles grew wider.

“sorry we’re a little late, captain!” the woman chirped, lowering the water basin in her hands to a more comfortable position to allow gravity to uphold its weight, rather than her arms, “it’s about damn time you all finally show up, restrain her.” levi was blunt and to the point, glossing over greetings entirely, and aiming his index finger in your direction.

there was a lot going on, and levi disappeared behind the three figures approaching you in the midst of it all. the short-haired woman must have placed the basin on the floor, because her hands were definitely free when she reached for your shirt, “it’s been so long since we’ve last seen you, you know.” how she had managed to keep such a cheery tone and face while also single-handedly witnessing your torment and anguish was beyond you, and you leaned away from her touch.

“yeah, captain said you forgot all about us.” it seemed that distancing yourself from the chipper lady had landed you into the trap of another, this time, a blond man with a blithe though hurt grin on his face, “we’ve got so much to tell you.” the tallest of the three added, carelessly placing a hand on the buckle of your belt.

entering your peripheral vision was the final soldier of what you presumed to be levi’s squad, he had been the one carrying the iron rod in his hands, now absent, as he made his way towards you, finding a spot next to the woman, “a lot happened while you were away.”

that’s right, you remember them. these soldiers were of the plethora of cadets that had enlisted in the military when you and levi had graduated. you had only encountered them a handful of times, but they were recurring guests in your life thanks to levi preparing for his promotion, the one you never had the chance to witness for yourself due to your leave. who knew they would be the same people to disgrace your pride and dignity by stripping you naked, even if they were much gentler than levi ever cared to be with you, there was no greater comparison than a pack of hungry wolves. and it was so draining to fight them, you tried and tried, but when the ropes had come out, you gave in.

and their names, they were: petra, eld, gunther, and oluo— which you had only picked up thanks to their small-talk with one another as they defiled you. shutting your eyes to avoid dwelling on the feeling of having your arms and legs strewn out, wrists and ankles bound by the rope that had been threaded through those worn out coils. all attention was focused on your shallow breathing, praying to disassociate hard enough to block out their jovial conversation. but you had picked up on something else, the burning coals. expectedly, the room was airless and sultry with a running fire and six people confined to such a small room. but this scent was different, like you could smell the heat, and that heat smelled like iron.

snapping your eyes open, you raise your head as much as your neck would allow it in your pitiful position, desperately scanning the room for answers. and you get them when you finally hear levi’s voice, “grab her arms and legs, i didn’t get this shit custom made for her to fuck it up.” readily, as if anticipating this specific command, petra and oluo had taken hold of your calves, while eld and gunther grabbed the inner side of your elbows. when levi leisurely drew near the side of the wooden table, the only thing you could see was the iron bar in his hands, the black metal now a light ash grey, emanating heat even with the distance levi was holding with you.

“wait, stop. get that fucking thing away from me!” the only control you had over your own body seemed to be your mind and mouth. even when you banged against the table, pulling away from the left side of the table where levi menacingly stood, recoiling as much as you could through the grip of the four soldiers and the ropes.

if it was forgiveness you wanted, you wouldn’t get it. that much levi would make sure of. if you wanted to run away? to be disobedient? then he’d reward your bad behavior with a deservingly bad punishment. carefully, levi lowered the scorching iron pole to align with the left side of your hips, though he wasn’t cautious for your sake, of course not, you deserved this and much more, but because he refused to let your little tantrum screw this up. you could feel the metal before it even touched your skin, burning away any body hair that may have been there to a crisp, and the sheer radiating from it had you screwing your eyes shut. you braced yourself, preparing to feel the searing iron, but it never came. levi contemplated whether or not he wanted to do it slowly, or to startle you after letting fifteen seconds pass, he fancied the latter.

it was so much more painful than you thought it was going to be. the sweltering hot iron rod blistered your sensitive skin, and you shrieked and cried in pain. it was scalding hot to the point it felt as if the metal was actually ice cold, and it pressed stiffly against your side, sinking into the fat of your hips. you had screamed until you couldn’t no more, until your voice cracked and your vocal cords bled, something the soldiers restricting you seemed to ignore. but the smell, the smell of your flesh being burned to the point it would leave a fresh, bloody mark. it was nauseating, and you gagged and heaved, but nothing to come of it. and despite how hellish it was, how it caused you unfathomable pain, caused you to convulse and spasm in your restraints, the pressure of the iron rod only lasted five seconds.

levi had counted, retrieving the metal pole and alleviating the pressure of its marking on your body after five maliciously counted seconds. you couldn’t tell if it hurt worse when the cold air nipped at the new wound than it did when it had been applied to your skin. tears fell from your eyes, and you don’t recall when you had started crying, but your face was wet with those salty droplets. shuffling resonated within the room, and the weight on your limbs was released. how tired you were, defeatedly laying your head until you could feel the rough surface of the wooden table. eyelids getting heavier by the second, you dared glance at the brand on your hip, the two letters ‘LA,’ bold and clear.

if you had the energy to, you would have flinched when a hand holding onto a lightly wetted rag came into contact with the new marking. the hand was tentative and mindful, applying little to no pressure on your hip, but just enough to cleanse the burn. you could have sworn you heard the sound of humming, but you knew you heard levi’s voice, “if you so much as think of betraying me again, i’ll do more than just mark you with my initials.”

[veggiehotdog1]

Time to promote my fanfic on AO3!

I mostly write TLOU2 fics, but have recently delved into a few short stories based on the HBO series.

I have also written two Colin/Penelope (Polin) Bridgerton poems dedicated to my partner who is a fanfic writer herself.

TLOU2 Fics:

**When the Smoke Clears (aka Story 1)**

My first (and ongoing) fic and my one true love. If you read any, read this one 😊

It's been six years since Ellie and Dina last saw each other. They reconnect as they remember their close childhood friendship and get to know each other again as adults.

Ellie is out of the military and still adjusting to life back in Jackson. She and Abby, who served with her, work on the Miller family cattle ranch. Dina has just moved back to the small town and is eager to reignite old friendships.

Ellie harbors secrets from family and friends as she struggles with addiction and trauma from combat. Dina struggles with her own trauma and how to navigate a relationship with Ellie.

**The Birthday**

JJ and Ellie bond on his birthday

**Allium**

Short poem imagined as Ellie's journal entry. Two images plus descriptor

**The Feast**

Maria nurtures Ellie back to health upon her return from California

**Good Advice Left in Santa Barbara**

Ellie is almost there, she can just feel how close Abby is. It all goes off course when she is taken prisoner by a group who wants something from her. She needs to escape and fast.

** Você é tudo o que eu quero (You are all I want)**

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip, but can Abby and Ellie quell the urge to compete or will it ruin the vacation?

**Kinktober 2022**

Very short, quickly written stories each day of Kinktober. Some stories are erotica, some are straight up smut. Most of them have a bit of plot too. Specific tags in beginning notes of each chapter.

**Mild and Spicy**

A mysterious stranger has been frequenting a food truck where a worker has caught her eye.

**Light My Cigarette and Engulf Me in Flames**

Two strangers meet at a lesbian bar in 1950s Seattle and share a dance.

**My Heart Longs for Home: Part 1**

A home is a person, a place, a sense of belonging and love.

The couple navigates their relationship after Ellie's return from Santa Barbara.

A push for deeper intimacy, and a pull away. Dina's persistence finally breaks through Ellie's powerful intrusive thoughts and avoidance.

**My Heart Longs for Home: Part 2**

The couple returns to the farmhouse to revisit memories and build trust. Plot continuation from part 1, but can stand alone if only want to read this part. Starts out with plot and ends with just pure smut.

HBO's TLOU fics:

**Princess**

Riley tells Ellie about a horse she rode after sneaking out of the military school. Combines both the events of the tv show and and game DLC Left Behind.

**First Impressions**

We were shown Ellie's first impressions of Dina. But what did Dina think of Ellie and Joel?

**Dangerous Infection**

The reason for the slo-mo (Episode 5: Endure and Survive) was because two lost souls found each other, drawn like moth to flame in the heat of the moment. Pure gonzo style satire.

Bridgerton Fics:

**How to Say It Best**

A poem about how Colin wants to profess his love for Penelope…until he quickly gets distracted by other thoughts. Inspired by, and poking fun at, how sex is sometimes described in fanfic.

**The Moth and The Light**

Brief poem about Colin's evolving attraction to, and relationship with, Penelope.

[cloudyyoimiya]

omg hi, i’m the anon who requested the continuation of the yandere ranpo fic! i absolutely loved it!! 💜 i’m so glad i was able to brighten your day, i truly do enjoy your writing a lot :)

i reread your continuation post 3 times to really take in the little details, and i am once again obsessed with the subtle implications and feelings of despair in your dark fics! the bit about the ruined pants being darling’s favorite was such a punch to the gut on top of everything else, you’re so good at setting up little instances of tragedy to further darling’s suffering..i love the way that just one or two lines can carry such a dreadful impact!

ranpo is so well written too, his surface level actions are deceptively sweet, but they drip with selfishness and manipulation. he can’t just comfort his darling, he has to use the opportunity to drag them into codependency little by little, associating loving him with safety. yandere ranpo’s childish words take on a whole new menacing meaning that only his victim can truly understand. it’s so easy to rationalize that he simply really doesn’t like lies, until you realize that he will bend this sentiment in whatever way serves him best. he’ll starve his darling if their lie is something he doesn’t like, but the moment the lie is something he wants to hear, suddenly his attitude completely changes. he may like to make ‘romantic’ gestures, like offering to get food for his darling, but it’s still all about him because he immediately accepts the offer that pleases him, even though he's clearly smart enough to know that it's not his darling's true wish. you just capture the selfish nature of a yandere relationship so well, even beneath the layers of faux romance!

ranpo is my favorite bsd yandere because he’s terrifying and virtually inescapable, but he also does it all while maintaining that eerily innocent appearance. he’s literally the most dangerous person his darling has ever met, but somehow he’s also so immature, and that’s scary as hell in its own way! he reminds me of that meme that’s like “please release the hostages” and then the cat with its tongue out is like “blegh, i’m not doing that!” because that’s literally ranpo with his captive darling 💀

the prison threats also distinctly made me picture a scenario where ranpo’s darling snaps at him early on and calls his home their prison (rightfully so), and he’s just like “oh you think THIS is a prison? because i could easily put you in actual prison with a murder charge 😊”

anyway, this isn't a request and you don't even need to respond if you don't feel like it, I simply wanted to drop by and share more of my thoughts on your work 💜 thanks so much for accepting my original request, I was delighted to see it! i hope you have a great night 💜

i know you said that i don’t need to respond but i wanna let you know this made me really happy!

i’ve never really had anyone step back and analyze my fics, so it really makes me happy oh my lord. when i first read this i had a big goofy grin on my face

thank you so much for enjoying my work. it truly means a lot 😭

i won’t lie to you some of the things you pointed out were unintentional for the most part. i knew what i was writing and i knew that it would affect the story, but it was kinda like my brain was on auto pilot as i was writing those things. i’m unsure if that makes sense though LMAO

anyways i’d like to thank you again. have a good day/night anon!

[midoropalace]

Yakuza: Like a Dragon -5-

Politics, betrayal, and the suspension of disbelief.

It's Ichiban's wild ride and the party just doesn't stop! I head outside to take a photo using Photo Mode to set the scene, and found out that your party members actually pose for you.

😊

🥵

After snapping about 10 photos of Zhao for... future reference... I head to Isezaki Road to meet with Kume. Here, the party gets hassled by members of the Tokoy Omi Alliance, who are acting as bouncers for Kume's political rallies.

This situation is pretty dire, unfortunately. Kume seems to be popular with no particular political opponents, and Masato's pro-Bleach Japan messaging is boosting his support through the roof. Realizing the situation calls for drastic measures, Chairman Hoshino meets with Ichiban and makes a surprising offer.

Turns out, the writers didn't forget about the "rival politician plot point!" Hoshino declares that Ichiban should run against Kume instead. The party doesn't believe for a moment that Ichiban -- a convicted murderer -- could possibly win the election. Even Ichiban himself thinks its a long shot. But the chairman explains that the point isn't to defeat Kume, it's to get Kume to meet with Ichiban alone and rough him up a little. If Ichiban runs as a rival politician, it would be in bad taste for Kume to turn down offers to meet or debate with him, after all. Ichiban decides to officially declare his candidacy with the government.

Unfortunately, the Omi Alliance are one step ahead and have begun spreading the word of Ichiban's former criminal status. Thankfully, the Seiryu Clan gives Ichiban a van and a loudspeaker to help with his political campaign.

Ichiban meets up with Kume, and the two begin debating right away. Kume focuses on tearing down Ichiban's image, pointing out how deplorable it is the Ichiban is a convicted felon and that he should not have the right to campaign. Ichiban points out that it is legal for those who have served prison sentences to run for office, then points out the irony in Kume complaining about a perceived unjust law when grey zones are created by unjust laws. Ichiban's impassioned debate, funnily enough, garners the support of the entire crowd, and Kume absconds from the scene out of embarrassment. Ichiban's unexpected popularity and social media buzz infuriates Masato, who orders Sawashiro to carry out a hit on a certain person...

The game points me back in the direction of Kume's campaign van. As I head there, I decide to check out Chau's black market weapons for any good stuff, now that I'm swimming in cash again. There isn't anything of interest, but strangely, talking to him activates the end of his substory. But I don't notice this until after I leave and head toward Kume. Awesome.

After arriving at Kume's campaign stop, Ichiban finally gets the chance to meet with him in person. That is, until Joon-gi delivers some startling news -- something is going down at the Seiryu Clan HQ, and Chairman Hoshino's life is in danger. The party decides to put the Kume dilemma aside, and we are asked to rush to the Seiryu Clan ASAP.

Upon arriving at HQ, we find what appear sto be the bodies of several Seiryu Clan members. Captain Takabe is injured badly, and tells the party that the chairman is upstairs. Ichi and the others head up to the chairman's room, and--

Dammit.

Fuck you, Sawashiro.

Ichiban demands that Sawashiro tell him why he killed Hoshino, to which Sawashiro responds that it's Ichiban's fault that he died. Um, no, dude. You're the one holding the gun. You're the one who pulled the trigger. Miss me with that shit.

It's time to fight Sawashiro one more time, and this time he meant business. This guy was not only an HP sponge, but he also had a lot of very annoying attacks to deal with. This battle wasn't nearly as bad as the first round of the Majima battle, but it was still pretty rough.

The gimmick of this fight is that at set HP intervals, Sawashiro switches the weapon he's using. He begins with a sword, before moving onto using a cane. Nanba mentions the use of a cane comes from Western martial arts, and that's why Nanba uses an umbrella as a weapon. What the hell, Nanba? If you knew martial arts then why do you suck so bad at anything other than magic?

Anyway, the annoying thing about the cane is that Sawashiro effectively double teams you with it. First he knocks you to the ground, then he proceedes to twist the cane into your chest. Ouch! Given that this special attack also has a cutscene, I'm assuming this is another insta-kill attack. It seemed to work on Joon-gi, but thankfully not Ichi. Seriously, what is with this game and suddenly throwing bullshit insta kill moves on enemies? As if the HP sponge shenanigans wasn't bad enough...

His final phase consist of using the cane and sword together but I didn't get any good screenshots of it lol. So enjoy this screenshot of Nanba holding a rose instead.

After Sawashiro goes down, he tells Ichi that he is not the one who killed Masumi. There's a simple reason for it. Well, okay, it's actually convoluted.

Back in the day, Jo was with his honey and theyre making out wen the phone rigns. He ansers it n the vioce is "wut r u doing wit my daughter?" He tells his girl n she say "my dad is ded". THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

OK but seriously. Turns out as a teenage delinquent, Sawashiro got his girlfriend pregnant. It was too late to have an abortion, so she had the baby and they... stuffed it into a locker?? Whaaaat? And then it turns out that the baby that Masumi saved from the locker was actually Sawashiro's son?! In other words, Masato is Sawashiro's son???? What to heck?

Ok, honestly, A+ plot twist. I actually think this is really fucking genius. I love the idea that Masumi took Masato home thinking he was his child, when in reality it was someone else's baby. This also means that Sawashiro is more-or-less responsible for Masato being crippled and turning into a huge asshole. Great stuff. But as Sawashiro points out, this leads to one issue: what happened to Masumi's actual child? And it is at this point the story violates my suspension of disbelief the most.

As it turns out, Akane's baby was actually in a separate locker -- the one adjacent to the locker Masato was in. Masumi simply opened the wrong locker. Akane went to Shangri La and asked the manager there to find her baby, and he did. Assuming that the manager is the same man who raised Ichiban, this would make Ichiban Masumi's real son.

I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I do kinda like the idea of Ichiban being Masumi's real child and all that. But on the other hand, it seems so unbelievable that Sawashiro and Masumi would happen to have a child born on the same day, and that they each get shoved into adjacent lockers at different times. Also, if the combination of the locker and the weather is what lead to Masato being a cripple, why didn't a similar thing happen to Ichiban? It all just seems to contrived for me to buy into it.

Anyway, Sawashiro decides to turn himself into the police after revealing to the party that Ishioda is likely the one who killed Masumi. As the cops take him away, Joon-gi learns of a new piece of information to the Geomijul: it was Swashiro himself who tipped off the Geomijul about the raid on the Seiryu Clan HQ. Joon-gi speculates that Sawashiro actually wanted Ichiban to stop him from killing Hoshino. Of course, since Hoshino is dead... that means they failed. Thanks a lot, Joon-gi.

[black-occamy]

@sorenphelps I hope in turn you didn't mind my addition! Let me start with agreeing that indeed, we don't see much of Azkaban in the books (thankfully), which then allows us the interpretations to the level that we find a) believable as far as fiction goes, b) enticing, in the way that it makes sense for the story we're telling (either in drawing or in writing) 😊

I agree - my interpretation is more harsh, intended more as description of place people are sent to die horribly, not a prison in a sense that while it serves as means of punishment, it at the same time needs to be adhering to human rights. I don't see wizarding world being worried about that particular part, to be honest. Hence, when I described it, I fully meant is as a hellhole where no one really cares much if the inmates survive or not, and their well-being is the last thing anyone would be concerned about.

This contradicts canon in some places, that's true - especially that "he seemed bored in the cell". I could argue that either jkr still tried to keep PoA as mainly book for kids, and thus didn't decide on going with full-on horror of the place and what it did to Sirius' mind. That or I could try to explain the sheer difference between how Sirius handled the imprisonment vs all other inmates - meaning that while he would seem crazy when put next to a businessman in a suit, he still seemed mostly normal and coherent when compared to other wizards and witches in cells nearby and that precise impression was left on Fudge.

That said - I don't dismiss your points! They make sense and I agree with lots of them - it's just for my HC it makes more sense to deepen the trauma of twelve years in Azkaban to even more powerfully show how resilient Sirius was to it.

Anyway, it's always fun to read other people's interpretations! @dufferpuffer WDYT? :3

i was thinking about life in Azkaban, like how does it work? Who prepares meals? Basic hygene requirements are ensured how? Is it like a regular muggle prison just with dementors as guards? Are there any human staff working there? Every cell is for 1 person only or some are for multiple people? Are witches and wizards separated? Can inmates have stuff like a book? I have so many questions, like if it’s just a bunch of cells with dementors only as staff, being there for someone who could remain more or less sane, it must have been extra boring?…

ANYWAYS thats how i got the idea for this pic, and also because Sirius is canonically very good with all sort of animals, i thought why not give him a crow friend that he helped one day when the poor bird ended up in his cell during a very intense storm or sth… and as crows are very smart and have a good memory, maybe it kept going back to Sirius with various garbage as gifts (eg muggle chocolate cover papers or some berries, whatever). It is absolutely plausible that Buckbeak trusted Sirius right away without demanding a bow first, because crows also like to gossip and they might have told stories about him to other birds/animals so he is like the definition of a persona grata for them (bonus points for being a dog sometimes so he can actually talk to them too)

[littlemisspascal]

The When (Part 1)

Pairing: Ruescott Melshi x Female Reader

Word Count: 4000+

Summary: There is a story before, when, and after Keef Girgo enters your life. This is the When.

Rating: M (18+, minors please do not engage!)

Warnings: Prison/Narkina 5 storyline but an AU where woman inmates are assigned to each unit as ‘peacekeepers’, language, established relationship, non-descriptive smut + references of smut, possessiveness, references of violence + blood, non-descriptive suicide (not major character death)

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is implied to be shorter than Melshi.

Author Note: Thank you everybody for the kind support of this story! For the sake of length, this section--The When--will be broken up into multiple segments! Hope someone enjoys it 😊

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜

The Before / The When Part 2

The daily routine continues. Doesn’t matter Table 5 is down a man. Doesn’t matter that man is—was—Tress and he’s gone forever. Wrapped up in a body bag and taken away like he was nothing more than garbage. He’s not the first to have railed himself during your time here, and you’d be a damn fool to think he’ll be the last. Doesn’t make the hole in your chest any smaller though.

As a peacekeeper—and you hate that title, you really do. You already stand out as separate from the men sheerly by being the only woman in the unit, the extra label just seems excessive—you’re meant to float around the room, encouraging a different table every hour. But on day one of your sentence Kino assigned you to Table Five and you’ve been with your boys ever since.

At first you thought Kino only did it because he saw you as too weak to be helpful, that you’d only get in the way and ruin his streak of being one of the top three rooms on the level. It was only when you saw how he interacted with Ulaf, the longest-serving inmate on level five —a pat on the shoulder every hour, tone just a smidge lighter, friendlier, keeping a particularly close track of Ulaf’s approaching release date—did you understand why he organized the arrangement. 

And it was only when you saw Kino successfully argue against the guards to give Table Four a pass for their slowness after the loss of a member (slit his throat with his shaver, you’d learn the gruesome details later from Xaul), that you understood why the prisoners listened to him, respected him, why they obeyed every booming word out of his mouth. Because as far as managers go, how lucky Unit Five-Two-D is to have gotten the very best.

—

The loss of Tress is harder than you expect it to be. His absence means two less hands to twist a hydrospanner, which means you have to step up and fill the void while also catching the drill when it swings around to puncture holes in your piece of metal and double-checking Ulaf’s work isn’t faulty. Table Five is in last place, a ranking that has your eyes drifting towards the deceivingly harmless box in the center of the room, stomach churning.

There’s still time left on the clock. No need to panic just yet. Panic leads to mistakes and mistakes lead to injuries. Melshi will get mad if you’re injured again. There are already too many reasons to be mad around here, you really don’t want to give him another one.

Besides, sooner or later, another prisoner will be joining your table today. That’s always how it goes. Someone dies, the next day they’re replaced. Simple as that.

“Like cheap parts in a machine,” Melshi had said once. Not angry. Not disgusted. Just a plain and cold fact of life. 

The boys don’t talk much today while working, too focused on trying to catch up to the other tables to say anything besides the usual Fly! and Hands away repeated on loop like clockwork. Occasionally there will be encouragement like C’mon we got this from Ham, ever the optimist even in the direst of times. Nobody has the heart to tell him and his baby blues to shut up.

You’ll catch Melshi’s gaze right before each fresh droid widget rises up from the depths of the table to be worked on. He’s tired, you can see it in the lines around his mouth, how he clenches his jaw. And you know he sees the same exhaustion mirrored in the slouch of your posture and heavy eyelids. Neither of you offer words of comfort to the other. 

It’s enough to be seen.

—

The new inmate shows up during the final hour of the shift, right as you were beginning to fear nobody was coming to replace Tress at all. He’s young, early half of his twenties you estimate, with floppy brown hair and the same thinly veiled look of nervousness everyone wears on their faces when they first arrive.

You remember what it’s like to be in his shoes—well, not shoes technically, but his position. To be stared at by a room full of strangers all with their hands on their heads. It’s like attending a new school, except worse because school ends once the day’s over and everybody gets to go home. There are men here with sentences lasting double their lifetimes. They’ll never see their homes again.

You can barely recall what your home even looks like anymore, too many memories of white walls and a shared cot filling your head. It hadn’t really been a home though, you know that much. Just a building with a roof and four walls. And there had been no one to share it with either. No one to worry why you never came back after that fateful night.

Kino welcomes the newcomer with his typical informative, if not intimidatingly blunt explanation of how to fit in. My name is Kino Loy. I own you now. This is how the game is played. Don’t fuck it up.

You feel the stranger’s eyes on you even before he approaches. You’d bristle if you weren’t used to it after all these years. But there’s something…different about his stare. It isn’t hostile or hungry, doesn’t make the hair on the back of your neck prickle. It’s the look of a man who’s attempting to solve a puzzle in his mind and is startled by an unexpected piece changing the entire image. 

He’s curious about you.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” Jemboc is the first to greet him, somehow managing to sound pleasant despite the increasing sense of impending doom you’re all going to be fried. “I’m Jemboc. What’s your name?”

“Keef Girgo.”

There’s something about the way he says it—dull, almost woodenly—that has your fingers instinctively tightening around your tool. It’s too plain. Too irreverent. The kind of name forgotten the second you hear it.

Jemboc carries on introductions, pointing to each of you. “Xaul, Taga, Ulaf and Ham. Then that’s Melshi and his girl.”

You roll your eyes at the ensuing chuckles from the boys, telling Keef your real name despite your misgivings. First impressions can’t be trusted on Narkina 5, forged too rashly in the glance of an eye. It’s the second and third and fourth ones you’ll need to depend on to form a fair judgment. 

Keef says nothing, but his gaze is alert, soaking everything in. 

“We’re down ten,” Taga announces after glancing at the screen depicting the stats of the room. 

The group’s efforts pick up speed.

“Kino got Four a pass before when they were down a man,” Jemboc points out, grabbing the overhead drill. “He should give us one too.”

“He should,” Xaul agrees, lips pursed, “but—”

“He won’t,” Taga finishes shortly, temper flaring. “Not when we have her.”

You know he doesn’t mean it as sharply as it sounds, but the words still sting, still draw blood, and you can’t stop yourself from reflexively wincing. 

It’s true though. Even with the difficulties of Ulaf’s old age taken into account, your help is an advantage over the other groups. And in order to make up for that advantage (as well as keep his respect intact), there are times Kino will fight harder for the benefits of the other tables over yours. Case in point.

“We’re down ten. Focus.” If Taga’s voice was a papercut, then Melshi’s is the dangerous click of a blaster promising death.

Silence falls like a blanket over the table, movements frozen as if everyone’s been turned to stone. Even Keef seems to be holding his breath. 

You bite your lip, a burst of heat spreading out from the center of your stomach. Maker, this man…

And then Ulaf coughs and the spell is broken and work resumes once more.

You move around the table where you’re needed, tightening bolts, drilling holes, fusing metal—lather, rinse, and repeat. Every day it’s the same spider-like beams and the same precise installation method. Human error is what keeps you on your toes, the only unpredictable element of each shift. 

Through it all, Keef stands there soundlessly. Watching, watching, watching…

Ulaf heaves a sigh. “Giving us a new man with only an hour left? It’s hopeless.”

“There’s still forty-two minutes on the clock,” Ham says, but you can hear a thread of trepidation in his voice now. “We can rally.”

You snort, glancing up at the window right as a guard passes by. “Un-fucking-likely. They’re up there laughing at us.”

Keef steps closer in your peripheral, probably to get a better look at the tools, but realizing that doesn’t stop your hackles from raising defensively. 

“Hey, new guy,” Xaul seizes Keef’s attention, eyes hollow and mouth pinched, “prepare to fry.”

On that grim note, you think there won’t be anymore talking for awhile, but then—

“Keef,” Melshi corrects.

Your head snaps up, frowning, thinking you must have misheard him.

“What?” Xaul looks just as taken aback as you feel.

“That’s his name.” Melshi’s eyes skim right over your face, locking with the man in question behind you. “Right?”

“Keef,” is the echoed confirmation. There’s an edge to it that wasn’t there when he said it before, and when you look over your shoulder, you see there’s a new rigidity to his expression, too. A refusal to yield. Understanding dawns then, stealing the air from your lungs.

Oh.

You immediately look to Melshi again, finding him already looking back. 

It’d been a test. 

One glance, that’s all it takes to know you both share the same certainty.

Keef’s lying.

—

Table Five finishes last to the surprise of nobody in the group. You stand in the box, a darker colored square tile in the center meant to be seen by every prisoner in the room. Your breathing is loud even to your own ears, rapid panting as you stare at your feet, toes curling against the cold floor. This isn’t a new experience—Table Five’s been in the box dozens of times over the years of your sentence—but you’ll never be immune to the pain. No, it will always find new ways to break you over and over again.

Melshi stands behind you. He does this on purpose to keep you from seeing him writhing in pain. But his screams…oh his screams your ears will never forget. 

Also standing somewhere behind you is Keef. The dark-haired man had withdrawn inside himself when the alarm sounded at the end of the shift, reminding you of a turtle hiding inside its shell. Some vague and distant part of your mind not currently drowning in panic wonders how long he’ll last here. If Narkina 5 will add yet another tally to its ever rising death toll. 

And then the box ignites and there’s no more wondering anything anymore. 

Your world is consumed in hellfire.

—

The box leaves the bottoms of your bare feet tender and aching, white-hot needles prodding at the flesh, sinking deeper with every step. You’d cry if you could summon the tears, but your body’s a scorched husk, mouth tasting like desert sand. 

The walk to the skybridge is a blur. It’s only while you stand in line, waiting for the guards to open the doors, your haziness begins wearing off. You blink a few times, fuzzy outlines sharpening into distinctive shapes, and the residual ringing in your ears starts to fade as you become aware of a hand holding yours, squeezing it rhythmically. You find yourself smiling, just a slight upturn of your chapped lips, because you’ll always recognize Melshi’s touch.

You shuffle around, slowly lifting your tired gaze over his chest and face until you meet his eyes. Empty, is your first thought, stomach plummeting. Empty and colorless, matching the ashen hue of his skin. He looks sick. Worse, he looks…

Biting back a whimper, you lean in even closer, pressing your forehead against the center of his chest where the welcoming sound of his heartbeat washes over you like rain. Melshi stays quiet. Just breathing. He drifts sometimes, too, going somewhere you can’t follow. He’s never gone long, but you still wrestle with helplessness in the interim, wishing you could do more than hold onto him until he returns. 

A minute ticks by, then another. The other inmates pay no attention to either of you, chattering amongst themselves or griping about the long wait. It’s sort of funny how after twelve hour shifts of heavy labor with no breaks the sleeping block quickly starts looking like a five-star hotel.

It’s sort of funny, except no, it really isn’t funny at all.

Melshi exhales a shaky breath through his nose and then his lips are suddenly pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a shiver running through you that’s not an aftereffect of the shock.

You tilt your head up to look at him again, tips of your noses almost touching. His eyes flash with a flicker of warmth, sending your heart somersaulting, and you feel relief swell inside of you like a balloon. 

“Hi,” you say, and the word comes out like a frog’s croak. 

“Hi,” he echoes, a low and gravelly note only you can hear.  

This close, where all you see is Melshi, Melshi, Melshi, it’s as crazy as it is upsetting to think just a few years ago you had no idea he even existed. You don’t know how you ever survived a day without his touch. And now that you have him, now that you know the depths of his devotion and care, how it feels to be worshipped as he slides home between your legs…

The tortures of Narkina 5 won’t be what kills you.

Losing Melshi will.

—

Even though Kino swears all the cells are identical, some prisoners get it in their heads that their buddy’s room is somehow better than theirs. They take advantage of the aftermath of an inmate dying, when there’s a vacant spot and a newbie too outnumbered to argue, and swap spaces with whoever’s willing. Usually it doesn’t bother you much—boys will be boys, after all—but this time their shuffling ends with Keef residing in the cell across from you and Melshi.

You lie on your stomach on Melshi’s cot, sipping water from the tube while listening as Jemboc explains the layout to your new neighbor. Melshi stays on the floor below. You don’t have to have a clear view of his face to know he’s studying Keef. All the boys are doing it, lingering on the ledges of their own cells, murmuring to each other.

Their behavior would be weird if it wasn’t commonplace around here. It’s hard to have an interrogation in the work room, let alone a conversation. The sleep block is the only place inmates can talk to each other without interruptions (at least until the floors turn hot).

Keef’s tab reads 2,189. Six years. Not the biggest sentence in the unit, but quadruple amounts always draw curiosity.

You offer the water tube to Melshi, fingers brushing as he takes it from your grasp. He swallows a few gulps, throat bobbing in a way that shouldn’t be as oddly mesmerizing as it is, and then drops it, letting the tube wind itself up back into the wall with a quiet reverberation.

“So, what did you do?” Jemboc asks, leaning against the outer wall of Keef’s cell with his arms crossed casually. 

Keef seems to notice then for the first time the abundance of eyes on him, expression spasming with startlement. He shrugs a shoulder, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

Interesting.

Every word out of his mouth so far has been a lie. 

Jemboc smirks. “Lot of that around here.” A glance at the number again. “At least you know where you stand from the start, no surprises.”

Melshi makes an irritated sound. “Ask him already.”

Both your and Keef’s eyes shoot towards him, one full of knowing and the other cautious. 

“Everyone’s numbers went up last month,” Jemboc explains. “A direct result of the P-O-R-D.”

Taga moves closer, a hint of desperation rounding his eyes, giving him a slightly feral appearance. “People must be talking about it.”

Keef’s cautiousness is erased by confusion, brow creasing. “About what?”

Your nails dig into your palms, the beginnings of dread tearing at your insides. He isn’t lying now. He really doesn’t understand.

“The Public Order Resentencing Directive,” Taga says, spitting each word out like they are individual curses. 

A small crowd begins to form on the floor, listening to the exchange with rapt interest. The distinct, sinking feeling in your gut insisting you’ll be grateful for the distance in a few seconds keeps you up high and out of arms’ reach.

“You’re the first guy in since they imposed the new law,” Jemboc tells Keef. “It’s been tough waiting for news of how people are reacting.”

Keef just stares at him for a moment, and it feels like he’s holding the entire room in a chokehold, atmosphere so thick with tension you can scarcely breathe. Your nails sink in deeper, guaranteeing crescent-shaped scars.

When he shakes his head, a quick, timid jerk with his mouth drawn into a tight, uneasy line, you can’t help but flinch.

“He’s never heard of it,” Taga says quietly, voicing your exact thoughts. He then immediately repeats it again more emphatically, anger coating his tongue. “He’s never heard of it.”

The reaction from the group varies from face to face when you force yourself to look. There’s Taga’s outrage mirrored in Xaul’s dark scowl, but there’s also Ulaf shaking his head with grim acceptance of his fate and Ham looking three shades paler like he’s just seen the face of death. Fury, disappointment, terror, the list goes on but nothing rattles your heart more than Melshi’s blank exterior. 

Numbness washes over you the longer you stare at him, the longer you fail to discern any sort of meaning. There’s nothing there. He may as well be a total stranger.

For the first time since you’ve gotten together, you can’t read him. 

“The Public Order Decree.” Jemboc’s still trying with Keef, like if he says it enough times it’ll jar something loose in the other man’s memories. “The re-evaluation of criminal sentences.”

“No,” Keef denies vehemently. “I’m sorry.”

“But all the rebel activity! They took down a whole garrison!”

“Rebel nonsense,” Xaul scoffs. “Bunch of bantha shit.”

Keef’s voice tightens, defensive. “I don’t know anything.”

“Of course not,” Ulaf says, rubbing at his knuckles rigorously. “We’re just a bunch of riffraff. Who’d want to worry about us?”

“But he’s just one guy,” Ham stammers, gesturing weakly at Keef. “M-maybe word just hasn’t spread yet.”

Any response is silenced by the slap of Melshi’s feet hitting the floor as he steps out of his cell. You sit up on your knees, unsure whether to stay silent or intervene. If Melshi would just look at you... 

This isn’t like when he drifts away, when his mind is occupied elsewhere but his body stays in the safety of your hold. No, this is a wall built on purpose warning you to back off. You can’t climb over it or knock it down. The only thing you can do is trust Melshi’s reasons for it. Trust he’ll let you inside when the timing’s right.

You trust Melshi with your life. Always will. But that doesn’t make the ache of being shut out hurt any less though.

“Don’t ever look at the number,” Melshi says, coming face to face with Keef. You shiver at the display of dominance, firm tone leaving no room for arguing. “Double, triple, it doesn’t fucking matter—”

“Hey!” Kino’s shout nearly has you jumping out of your skin, an embarrassing yelp escaping your lips.

Melshi doesn’t even bat an eye. “You’re here ‘til they don’t want you anymore. Get straight with that.”

The other inmates scatter like mice towards their own cells, practically leaping to get out of the way of a severely ticked-off Kino thundering down the hall. Your heartbeat quickens, threatening to burst.

“Melshi,” the manager barks, spittle flying. “That’s enough!”

“Rue,” you call out, rapidly looking back and forth between the men, worry spiking when you’re ignored. “Ruescott, leave it alone.”

“Anyone who thinks they’re getting out of here is dreaming,” Melshi finishes bluntly.  

The words come out jagged and sharp like shattered pieces of glass. Keef’s just staring at Melshi, brown eyes wide and dumbstruck and full of something you can’t quite label. And it’s strange, almost scary, how smoothly he transitions from an open book to a complex enigma in-between the blink of an eye. Maybe a chameleon is a better comparison than a turtle.

There isn’t any more time to dwell on your suspicions, not when Kino’s fists are seizing hold of Melshi by the shirt and throwing him against the wall, his face a snarling mask of rage.

“I said,” Kino hisses, “that’s enough.”

You’re on the floor in the next breath, ignoring the jarring of your ankles at the harsh landing as you press yourself against Melshi’s side. You reach for his hand and something softens inside of you when you find he’s reaching for you too, fingers intertwining. Indivisible. 

Kino looks down at your hands and then back up at your face, glare losing none of its heat. He says your name, and it takes all the willpower you possess not to duck your head like a disciplined child. “He makes one more scene, just one,” he warns, holding up a finger. “There won’t be any more sleepovers because he’ll be sleeping on the fucking floor. Are we clear?”

Melshi squeezes your hand.

You swallow, squeezing back. “Crystal.”

The alarm rings out—saved by the bell, you think, knees nearly go weak with relief—warning prisoners to return to their cells for lights out. Kino grunts, finally releasing his hold, and turns to address Keef. You ignore them in favor of Melshi, pulling insistently at your joined hands.

“Come on, Rue,” you murmur, bottom lip wobbling despite yourself. “Let’s get inside.”

Melshi’s gaze lingers on Kino for a moment, then Keef, and then, finally, he looks down at you and he’s back. Your Rue is back, fingers trailing over your jaw so delicately you can’t even think straight, can’t stop yourself from blurting out:

“Don’t shut me out again. Not you.”

“Dream—”

“I love you,” you say, tilting your head into his touch. The alarm’s blaring and your feet are on fire and he’s never once said those three precious words back, but none of that matters. He still needs to know. He still needs to understand. 

He’s it for you. The one and only keeper of your heart.

“Remember my promise, little dreamer,” he says softly, gently guiding you into the cell, pressing you down onto the cot as darkness falls. Forehead to forehead, words falling into your open mouth. “I’ll never leave you.”

And it sounds like I love you, too. Like You are mine. Like I’ll set this whole place on fire for you, just say the word.

You pull him in for a kiss, then another and another, sinking into each other, becoming one.

There are no doors in the sleep block. No corners or nooks of privacy. But when Melshi holds you in his arms, bodies pressed together in a tangled embrace of warmth, it feels as though the two of you might as well be the only souls left in the galaxy. 

—

You wake up to find yourself sprawled across Melshi’s back, face resting between his shoulders. It takes a couple of sluggish seconds to make sense of the unusual position, briefly wondering how you went from being curled into his side hours ago to this, before your semiconscious mind decides it’s not a mystery worth the effort of solving. 

Melshi’s still out, breathing slow and deep, on his stomach with his arms tucked under his head. He’s so pleasantly warm, you’re tempted to snuggle even closer and doze off again, but instinct tugs at you, an invisible thread demanding attention. You lift your head, squinting against the faintly glowing lights outlining the walls of the cells.

And then you see it. A dark shape curled up on the floor in the cell directly across. 

Keef.

You blink, taken aback, and there’s a dizzying second where you wonder if you’re still dreaming after all, but then Keef’s rubbing at his face with his sleeves and you realize he’s crying. Except he’s not making any sound. No muffled sobs racking his body or the sniffles of a snot-filled nose. Just tears trailing silent lines down his cheeks.

He’s completely stripped bare of all his facades, raw and exposed, and you should turn away, you know you should, but there’s something so utterly captivating about your first real glimpse of the man. Those tears, they must mean something. Heartache or hopelessness or some third profound emotion there isn’t a name for yet. 

You don’t know why Keef—or whatever his true name is—is lying, how he ended up here, or what he’s running from. But looking at him now, one damaged soul witnessing another, you realize how little those blank spots matter. He’s one of you now. No going back.

Welcome to the pack, Keef Girgo, you think, closing your eyes once more.

You dream of rushing water and blaster fire, a voice screaming over and over the same three words:

No way out. 

No way out.

No way out.

[nursegracecreates]

Hi! I don't know if your matchups are still open, but if they are I am interested in a creepypasta matchup please 😊

- I'm 19 and use she/her pronouns

- I am currently majoring in Criminal Justice; I watched way too many true crime shows and I really want to work in the forensics field.

- I am a Virgo.

- I've gotten different result for the Myers Briggs personality test, but the most recent result was ISFP-T (the Adventurer). Basically saying I'm more introverted, obersvant, I go with my gut instead of my brain, and I'm more prospective.

- Personally, the main traits about myself that stick out to me and some that are brought to my attention. Friends have said that I'm ambitious, smart, a bit of a know-it-all, emotional, and an overall motherly figure in my friend groups - all I would say are pretty accurate.

- I'm very anxious and prefer plans and certainty. I don't like randomly going out and doing something at the last minute.

- I am a huge dork and currently have 2 addictions: coffee and video games. I was pretty much raised on video games and anything you would consider geeky/dorky I most likely enjoy it.

- My love language is to just spend time together. I like to feel like I have friend and if we can't even hang out then why bother at all? That's my thought process at least.

- Physically speaking I am a 5'5" female with short blonde hair with these two strands that dangle in front. I have blue eyes and I'm always wearing giant ass glasses where the lenses are so thick that they stick out of the frame. Naturally I'm awkward and pigeon-toedness is a thing, so my feet naturally point inwards which leads to a lot of falling. (Let's go ahead and say I'm clumsy 😅)

- Some of my hobbies are (duh) gaming, coloring in those adult coloring books, reading, writing, sketching, stuff like that.

If there's anything else you want to know then please feel free to reach out 😊

(Love your Toby btw!)

Hobo Heart ♡

This is going to have a bit of a rocky start, as all things with Hobo do

You came under Hobo's radar as most young women do

Your heart is awfully pure, and the one Hobo was using was losing its juice

So he tailed you, learning your habits, so he could find the perfect time to strike.

See, Hobo is a Gemberling, a humanoid supernatural creature who serves their creator to fulfill a purpose.

Hobo's purpose was to harvest a human heart that has been filled with sorrow and sadness.

Once harvested, he would "feed" (place the heart near the roots of the tree and the tree would consume the heart) the heart to a tree of prison

The tree acted as a prison to six evil spirits, who Hobo needed to keep the spirits imprisoned by feeding the tree ten human hearts.

If he failed to deliver the hearts, the spirits would be set free and he would have failed his purpose.

As we know, he failed his purpose and has been wandering after feeding his own heart to try to save things

Every now and then he needs a new heart to keep going

Hobo noticed you didn't react to his aura the way his previous victims had

You were immune to the despair and heavy thoughts that radiated from him

Hobo knew right then that he couldn't take your heart

At least not in the way he was meant to

He started by sending his dog (still unnamed as of now)

It had worked for Hobo before, putting people at ease so he could draw closer.

You were unable to resist stopping on a walk to pet the scrappy little terrier.

And while you were petting him, Hobo showed up, in his signature hoodie, jeans and Converse shoes

You were startled by Hobo's appearance at first, the skeletal markings and dark pigment of his skin making you more than a little leery

But gradually, you noticed Hobo's overall kindness and his polite manners

Hobo struggled to understand why you would want to look at crime scenes all day.

All that anger and hate and gore

But when you explained to him that it served a purpose, he was on board.

He admires that you are willing to subject yourself to such unpleasantness in order to bring the criminals that did it to justice

Overall, every experience you have with Hobo is a new experience

He definitely likes plans and certainty too

He was created to carry out plans

I think Hobo would have a lot of fun learning how to play video games

Though be patient... I'm thinking someone who's been made, probably from other people, is gonna have a pretty nice case of fumble thumbs going on

I don't think Hobo would be too invested in looks, he just wants someone happy and healthy worn a heart of gold

Because you have those qualities

You are the most beautiful being in the world to Hobo

Likes to curl up somewhere warm with you and watch while you game or study

A/N: thanks for the Toby love. He really is something isn't he? Ya know he's got the ask box open for questions if you're interested 👀

[zacs-of-rwby]

Welcome to another edition of Social Work and RWBY feat. our self-indulgent shipping AU.

Last semester I was in a Family Systems class that required us to create a genogram (essentially a more complicated, detailed family tree) and since my family is the definition of nuclear it was very boring.

You know what's not boring? The absolute chaos that happens to the Xiao Long-Rose-Branwen family tree when you connect a few simple lines and add some ridiculously self-indulgent backstory 😆

Behold...

This is what happens when two siblings make their favorite ships canon and throw Jacques in prison just for fun. Yes, the three bars over his name denotes incarceration.

If anyone is curious, the rest of the symbol explanations can be found under the cut or you can send me an ask 🤗

Shape indicates gender

Circle: Female

Square: Male

Triangle: Gender non-conforming

Lines denote relationship status

Blue dotted lines: simply means the children are adopted. Blaine and Ebony being connected at one point means they are twins.

Red dotted line that's split: Tai and Raven are estranged, never married (that's our headcanon, at least). The cut off is closer to Raven to indicate that Tai has custody of Yang.

Solid grey line that's split: Jacques and Willow are divorced. At this point in our AU, Willow has had enough of his shit and served him papers at the same time he was on trial for tax evasion 😂

Solid green line: means harmony. Just thought it'd be cute to acknowledge the sister's good relationship 😆

Solid green line with a circle: Simply means love! The relationship is healthy and their marriage is strong 😊 (let us have our fluffy family interactions)

And, finally, a couple character denotations

Three red bars: as previously stated, indicates that Jacques is in prison.

"X": unfortunately means that Summer is deceased 😔 R.I.P.