#she’s a long line with spikes lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myosotisa · 1 year ago

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Chasm - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖ summary: You're a researcher working at one of the fault lines throughout Hawkins, studying the closed and dormant gates to an alternate dimension. While you're alone on site, one of the gates wakes up again.

‖ tags: horror. i cannot stress this enough. this is unsettling and creepy and angsty with slight sexual tension. in line with the content in the show. post season 4, canon compliant. emetophobia warning. dubcon kissing. forced consumption (writing it made me gag just warning you. but im also kind of a baby so). no y/n, she/her pronouns used. flayed!eddie infects you. open ended ending. also steve is there sometimes. there's a ton of background lore that is only vaguely explained lol

‖ word count: 8.3k ‖ read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖

None of the rifts have shown any activity in over a year. Months and months of dead readings and no signals. Just waiting.

So what's a girl supposed to do when your EMF meter spikes alone on site? Sit around and wait for a crew to suit up and march their way over to the fault you were at? No fucking way. No chance.

You report in about the sudden spike in gamma radiation and tell them you're going to find the source. The project lead tells you to stay put and wait for assistance, as expected.

Your radiation gear was already halfway on. Oops, sorry boss, didn't hear you.

Handheld voltage meter in one hand, audio recorder in the other, and a pocket full of glow sticks, you push out past the plastic tarps and into the humid night air of Indiana summer.

The readings bring you west, toward the condemned trailer park and the "start" of your fault line. You crack a glow stick and drop it every few feet, marking your path. When the reading jumps up, you make a '+' sign with two at the spot before continuing forward. It was hard to say without exact measurements, but it seemed to be increasing at equal intervals. Like frozen waves on the surface of water.

"I'm approaching the Forest Hills sign," you say into the receiver, your own voice the only sound in the night air. "Current readings are…" You bring the meter up, using the light hanging from your neck to read the display. "Approaching 70 mv/m of high frequency radiation, roughly 31016 Hz. The next… 'Layer', for lack of a better term, will most likely breach Safe EMF levels, not considering the potential protection of the suit."

Lowering the meter again when it gives a beep of warning, you tuck it under your arm and crack another glow stick, leaving a '+' at the boundary to the trailer park. "I'll probably need treatment when I get back to base – as long as I grab a reading from the source and get out quickly, there won't be lasting damage. You hear that, Dr. Pierce?" You say through an over-confident huff, readjusting your arms to keep moving forward. "I'm well aware of the risks and take responsibility for my own actions."

The park itself looks like a bad dream at night – trailers abandoned hastily with doors still hung open and belongings scattered along the ground. Between the sudden fault opening and the bureau rushing in, the existing residents had been given very little time and grace to move into temporary housing across town. And it looked every bit like an entire community of people had just up and disappeared.

The suit you were in didn’t exactly help coordination, so you moved slowly and carefully over and around discarded objects along the dirt. Clothing, kitchen utensils, a quilt, a stack of newspapers, a child's toy. All left untouched for over a year.

Clearing the corner of one of the empty trailers, you catch sight of something strange.

“The fault itself has looked normal up to this point, no activity. But I can see the source now. It’s… It appears to be glowing red, fading in and out in a constant cycle.” Approaching even slower than before, you watch intently as the glow grows and then retreats again. Like waves on the shore.

The meter gives another shrill alarm – making you jump nearly out of your skin as you swat at it with the recorder. “Jesus Christ!” It quiets with a sinking pitch in your hand.

Before checking the reading, you quickly make another ‘+’ with glow sticks, digging them into the dirt a bit in an attempt to keep them from moving. Still down on one knee, you bring the meter up to your flashlight again.

“The meter is now reading 110 mv/m, same frequency. I’m roughly… 12 feet out from the source now. There’s a, uh, humming sound. Not sure if the recording is picking it up. And feeling pressure on my eardrums,” you explain into the device, eyes locked on the glow ahead. “I’ll continue to approach – see if I can get a closer reading. If it jumps above 150, I’ll fall back.”

Pushing to your feet again with a huff, you readjust your full load and press forward slowly. The closer you get to the source, you can see that the fault rapidly grows in size. The space between the edges looks large enough to fit a car as it rounds out at the end – a red pond in the ground.

“I can see the source clearer now. The glow is coming from within – there’s a…" You take a few steps closer, squinting to get a better look. "It appears to be an opaque membrane covering the space between. The glow is coming from behind it. Still cycling at an even rate, no change.”

The meter in your hand gives its shrillest warning yet, scaring you badly enough that it goes flying out of your hand; it hits the ground and flips closer to the edge. “Shit, fuck!”

You shuffle forward and drop down onto your shaky knees, grabbing for the meter as it continues to let out that grating alarm into the night air. Smacking it once more, the sound cuts off abruptly, giving you a chance to breathe.

Bringing it up to your flashlight, your eyes go wide as you lift the recorder again with your other trembling hand. “I’m nearly at the edge now, only a foot or so away – EMF reading 187 mv/m. Rapid increase from the last point.”

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, your head snapping toward it.

“There’s… What the fuck?" You pause, tempted to rub your eyes to make sure you're really seeing what you're seeing.

"There’s movement below the membrane. It… It’s just a shadow, I can’t tell what it is, but the movement is rapid and the… The humming is getting louder.” Your heart is pounding now, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin beneath the suit.

“Going to retreat back to base,” you say, mostly attempting to reassure yourself as you slowly back away from the edge. “Final reading was 189 mv/m at 31016 Hz.”

There’s a crackle of static right before a thumb presses the pause button roughly, silencing the recorder in the center of the table.

“Is that all?” General Richard Highland asks, sounding impatient as he leans back in his conference chair. “That doesn’t tell us anything about what happened to her.”

“No, sir, there’s more.” Private Steve Harrington insists, inclining his head toward the dirty recorder he had delivered. He’s standing by the edge of the table at attention, hands clasped in front of him. “The recording keeps going.”

Dr. Pierce leans forward from his seat, giving the General a stiff look as he presses the play button again.

There’s a few more moments of static before the woman’s voice fades back in, layered beneath the hum of attempted interference.

“I’m definitely gonna need that rad treatment, Dr. Pierce. My badge is that warning color, even beneath the suit,” she continues with a shaky laugh, the sound of plastic shuffling behind it. “Hopefully I don’t lose my hair or something, but that’s… What?”

The table of scientists and military personnel sits in tense silence as her voice cuts out again. Half of them are on the edge of their seats, the others showing off a measured calm or disinterest. The general looks particularly annoyed and impatient, while Dr. Pierce looks almost like he wants to throw up.

“There’s… Something’s happening – I don’t–”

An abrasive crackle echoes out into the room, loud enough to send nearly everyone into a wince, before the recording cuts back in with the sound of screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?! SHIT – I’ve gotta get–" A burst of interference sounds, followed by a metallic grating, like a ship groaning beneath the weight of the ocean.

Her panicked voice comes through, sounding further away than before. "FUCK! It – It’s got my ankle. Let go, you fucking piece of –! SHI–”

The recording cuts out to a buzzing hum.

No one moves for a few moments. Not until Private Harrington steps up to silence the recorder. “We found this recording, a lab issue EMF meter, and a broken flashlight at the edge of the fault." He explains, producing the other two items from the pack resting at his feet. "It was dormant when we got there – solid again.”

“So it just…” One of the other scientists starts, looking at Dr. Pierce uneasily.

“Dragged her through and went back to sleep.” Dr. Pierce confirms solemnly, his gaze locked on the dirty recorder.

“It’s never done this before?” A 2nd scientist, new to the project, asks. The others shake their heads. “So what do we do?”

All eyes turn to Dr. Pierce, who looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“We wait for it to wake up again.”

Wake up.

Come on, little lamb.

Wake up now.

Looks so peaceful.

But you’ve got to wake up.

…

WAKE UP.

There’s something wet on your face.

Feeling is slowly returning to your body, your eyes closed and too heavy to open. But there’s something dripping on your cheek – droplets running down toward your mouth. Sticking to your dry lips for a moment or two before falling off. You’re on the ground on your stomach, your cheek squished against something that feels like mud.

Your brain has yet to kick on fully as it tries to regain consciousness through a pounding ache, resonating with the throb of your left leg. It feels like you’re still wearing the rad suit, but the head piece is gone and it might be ripped in places – mud seeping in to touch your skin.

It’s almost like you’re sinking.

Eyelids fluttering open and you’re faced with a desaturated swamp. Like someone came through and sucked half the color out of it.

Lifting one arm is difficult, suctioned into the mud you’re laying in. Once you’ve freed it enough, you’re able to push off the sticky, wet sludge beneath you enough to roll over onto your back.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?”

You sit up with a start, your abdomen screaming in protest as your brain swims. Blinking through the blur in your eyes, you struggle to see anything at all in the dark – only momentarily granted sight by the flashes of red lightning overhead.

“Who’s there?” You call out into the dark, an attempt to sound brave, but your voice trembles as your eyes rapidly flit back and forth.

“Over here.”

The lightning flashes once more as you whip your head toward the voice – showing the silhouette of a man standing a few feet away. From what little you see, he’s tall and slender, head tilted to the side like he’s curious. There’s no chance you can see his face or anything else about him.

Until he’s in your face, crouched down right beside you – crossing the space and appearing in the span of a blink. It gives you a start, attempting to back up but getting caught up in the mud still suctioned to your lower half.

Your fear seems to bring a small smile to his face, plump lips tilting up at the corner. He looks so familiar… Long curly hair draped wetly over his shoulders, the sparse bangs across his forehead, and the soft turn of his nose. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lean in again slightly, squinting your eyes a bit more in the dark to see him better.

“I know you…” You insist softly, causing his eyebrows to raise slightly in surprise. “How do I know you?”

“No clue, because I’ve never met you in my life.” He replies, lips parting in a grin. “And I’m good with faces – ‘specially pretty ones.”

His response catches you off guard as your brain continues reeling and struggling to intake information, which is normally your forte. There’s a million questions on the tip of your tongue and you have no idea where to start.

“You’ll probably need to lose the suit if you want to get out of that shit,” he continues when you don’t respond, motioning to your stationary legs with a wave of his hand. And he’s probably right, with the way the mud beneath you is stuck tight to the shiny plastic. Your best hope is to try to use the suit as a stepping off point to get to stable ground.

“Where should I step once I pull out?” You ask, hoping he’ll understand your goal.

A blink and he’s gone again – another flash of red light placing his silhouette off to your left. “Think you can make it to here?” He responds, voice raised slightly and sounding like he’s teasing you or challenging you. It makes your competitive side flare up on instinct – a frustrated huff leaving your nose as you plan your escape.

Opening the front of the suit, you slip both arms out and let the upper half fall flat behind you. Pulling out both of your legs next, your butt sinks deeper into the ground, nearly sending you off balance as you quickly shift your weight forward onto your knees, using the suit as a stepping stone. It starts to sink, mud coming up over the edge and inching toward your knees, so you have to move fast.

Pushing to your feet makes it sink faster, wet sludge touching the side of your ankle just as you push off in a jump toward where the man was standing.

You land on the ankle that had been grasped by the tentacle, not realizing the throbbing meant it’d been twisted. It makes you cry out in pain and fall forward, directly into the man’s chest.

“Woah there!” He says in surprise, grasping onto your elbows to keep you sort of upright. Between the aching pain and the tears pressing at your eyes, you just barely manage to notice how cold and clammy he is – especially where his hands grip your bare biceps.

Rocketing back, you press your weight onto your good leg and put some distance between the two of you again, your dirty arms crossing over your tank top and smearing it with mud. “Sorry, my, uh, ankle…” You offer awkwardly, still not even sure who you’re talking to.

“Don’t worry about it, angel. You good?”

He actually sounds like he cares. Like he’s concerned for you. Who is he?

“I’ll be fine,” you insist stubbornly, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat. Free from your precarious situation, at least partially, you struggle to figure out what to address first. “How are you doing that? Like… Teleporting? Or are you just moving really fast?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “What–,” he disappears in a blink and then you feel a burst of air on the back of your neck, making your hair stand on end, “this?”

You lurch forward before turning around to level him a glare. “Yes, that – don’t do that.”

His hands tuck into the front pockets of the leather jacket he’s wearing as he shrugs, looking quite pleased with himself. “Sorry, angel, didn’t mean to spook you.”

Then silence falls, both of you eyeing each other – you suspiciously and him curiously. The extended pause makes you think you aren’t going to be told how anytime soon.

A breeze kicks up, rustling the branches of the trees in the surrounding swampland and sending a shiver down your spine. Suit lost, you’re down to a tank top, jeans, and a pair of no slip shoes (which were required for people working in the field for some reason). You were dressed for the humid interior of the field site tent in summer and it appears that you have landed yourself in a place where that is not enough.

Taking advantage of the silence, you try to remember everything you can about your studies into the ‘gates’ from when they were open. Very little was known beside second hand accounts and old data – some of which may not even be accurate anymore given the nature of the fault lines. If there was anywhere to start, it would be trying to find the gate you’d been dragged through.

With any luck, you could go right back to your dimension.

But that didn’t account for him. The pale, wet, unsettling-yet-somehow-charming guy that was still staring right at you.

“How long have you been here? Do you know?” You question cautiously, not wanting to upset him in any way.

“That depends, what year is it?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, completely at odds with the continued grin on his face. It looks almost manic now – like every time he sets you off balance brings him great joy. Deciding you’d actually rather not know how long he’s been in here, you move on.

“Have you been alone this whole time? Or are there other people here?”

His grin spreads, like he’s in on a joke you’re not aware of. “I haven’t been alone, no.”

This piques your curiosity again, adjusting your weight on your good leg. “Do you have a community here? How many of you are there?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” He suggests, taking a step or two away from you, his hands still tucked into his pockets.

The idea is tempting, if only to learn more about what is going on here, but there’s something nagging at the back of your mind. Something you should be remembering. Something you’re missing. Plus, for all you know, this man does not have your best interests at heart.

“I should probably try to find the gate that brought me here,” you say, slightly regretfully. “See if I can cross back over.”

“Oh, right,” he responds, tapping his forehead with his palm like it should’ve been obvious. “Yeah, I can show you the way.”

This surprises you again, slight concern causing you to stand up straighter. “You can?”

“Sure thing, the closest one isn’t far,” he motions behind him with a tilt of his chin, taking another step back. “Come on.”

So you follow the strange man into the dark, limping after him on your twisted ankle. The mud starts to dry on your skin, hair, and clothing – crusting over and hardening in places. You pick at pieces as you walk, letting the chunks and flakes fall to the ground behind you. From what little you can see, there are vines everywhere along the ground, weaving between tree trunks and layering over each other in place. The man seems to step over them – and you can’t tell if it’s on purpose or a coincidence – but you make a habit of not touching the vines just in case.

It’s unsettlingly quiet here. Every once in a while you’ll hear what sounds like an animal – a howl, a chittering, the thump of feet on the earth. But they are few and far between, leaving mostly just the rush of wind through the trees and a sort of muffled silence, pressure on your ears.

Your paranoia kicks up as the quiet continues, suspiciously eyeing the back of your escort as he leads you forward. For all you knew, he wasn’t leading you anywhere near the gate. You have no reason to trust him beyond the fact that he helped you get out of the sludge you woke up in. He was in this dimension after all, clearly familiar with it. That had to be a red flag if anything, given what little you actually knew about it.

So much was classified beyond your reach – the bureau was very specific with what you were allowed to read and know and what you weren’t. Given the dormant nature of the fault lines, it hadn’t been necessary for you to learn too much about the dimension on the other side. Most of what you studied and knew was about the gates themselves.

Even with the bureau being as paranoid and obsessive as it was – a lowly field researcher getting dragged to the other side and needing to survive hadn’t seemed to be on their radar.

The pessimistic part of you not-so-helpfully supplies that was probably just because they weren't very interested in your survival at all. They’d probably prefer it if you died here. If anything, your exposure to the other side made you more of a liability.

Maybe one they could experiment on, if you got lucky and survived.

This train of thinking isn’t helping anything. You could worry about what your life would become if you made it out.

Walking up to the lifeless and solid gate turns that into a very tentative if.

“Looks like the door’s shut tight,” Eddie offers vaguely, rocking back and forth on his heels as you circle the hole in the ground, like seeing a new angle will change something about it.

The opening looks largely the same as the other side, in the center of the abandoned trailer park with the forest surrounding. Your arms are covered in goosebumps as the breeze hits harder in the open field, no longer buffered by trees on all sides. On the bright side, it is slightly better lit here and you can see your companion a bit clearer now.

“Do you know how these things work? Like how and why it opens and shuts?” You ask desperately, looking at him from the other side of the crevice.

The corner of his mouth tilts up minutely, his shoulders shrugging. “Yes and no.”

The scowl returns to your face, frustration mounting as another shiver of cold racks your body. “Are you intentionally being unhelpful? Or are you just an idiot?”

His lips part in a surprised ‘o’, his eyebrows raising like he’s impressed. “That hurts, angel. I’m no idiot, and I think I’ve been plenty helpful. After all… I could’ve just left you to drown out there. Or maybe led you into a trap. Or left you for the dogs.” He taunts, returning to a toothy grin. The question of if he has your well being in mind gets more and more clear with a resounding no.

A fearful jolt runs down your spine as you stare him down, trying not to let your fear show. Grappling tightly to your anger, you taunt back, “Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you?”

A blink and he’s gone.

Your entire body goes on alert, tensing for attack as your heart starts to pound against your ribs. Eyes searching the immediate area in front of you come up empty. He’s either behind you or far enough you can’t see him in the low light. You never got an answer as to whether he’s moving quickly or teleporting or exactly how far he can get in the time you blinked.

He’s either long gone or… Trying to surprise you.

As soon as you have the thought, the hair on the back of your neck stands up – like some kind of unconscious sense of danger.

You turn in a quick 180 and he’s right there. Only a foot away from you with a sadistic sort of smile on his face. Your breath catches in your chest as it feels like a fist grabs tightly to your heart, suddenly much more terrified of the man in front of you.

That appears to be the way he prefers it.

“I think we can help each other.”

You blink at him, muscles pulled taut and ready to bolt as you try to figure out what the fuck he’s doing and what the fuck he wants. “What?” You question, your voice coming out a bit breathy and scared.

“I said, I think we can help each other,” he repeats calmly. “You help me, and I can help you get back home.”

“Why– What– H–how could I possibly help you?” You sputter, trying not to sound as terrified and confused as you feel.

His grin turns cheeky again, slightly less unsettling than it was a moment ago. “It won’t take much, angel, scout’s honor.” He says as he lays a hand over his chest. “You help me, then you’re free to crawl right back over to the other side and continue your life.”

Disbelief and uncertainty nags at you as you fidget in your spot, wanting desperately to put some more distance between the two of you but nervous to offend him. “So you can open the gate? You just want something in return?”

He shakes his head emphatically, appearing to be genuine in his denial. “I can’t but I know who can. They opened it before you were brought over.”

“And they would open it again? Just because you asked?” You question suspiciously, studying his facial expression for a sign that he’s pulling your leg again.

“Let’s just say that me and them have similar goals and leave it at that.”

There are 100 more questions on the tip of your tongue, but with the potential of getting back to your own dimension on the table, you’re reluctant to press too hard. He seems to recognize the battle you’re fighting with yourself as he laughs to himself. “You know what they say about curiosity, angel.”

An annoyed exhale punches out of your nose. “And I assume in this case that I’m the cat.”

“Bingo!” He says happily, tapping the end of his nose with his index finger. “So what do you say?”

There is so much you want to say. So many questions you want to ask. So much more info you need. But beggars can’t be choosers, you suppose.

“What would I need to do?”

His smile goes sharp again. “So glad you asked. I’d just need a kiss.”

A beat of silence. Then your expression drops in disbelief and disappointment. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Dead serious,” he insists, laying his hand on his chest again as he regards you intently. “And it’s gotta be real – gotta kiss me like you mean it. None of those little pecks you give on the cheek.”

A strange swirl of intrigue and revulsion mixes together in your gut as you continue waiting for the punchline. The ‘just kidding, your face was priceless’. But it doesn’t come.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Been so lonely out here that you have to twist the arm of a desperate girl just to get some–”

“Hey.” He interrupts, his tone intense and cold. It shuts you up immediately, though you can’t say why. “Don’t be mean, angel. This isn’t just me trying to take advantage of you. It has a real purpose.”

The dubious look you give him makes him crack another small smile. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I’m telling you the truth.”

“And am I allowed to know what this purpose is?”

He shakes his head again, displacing the curls draped over his shoulders that still appear to have not dried at all. “I’ll tell you when it’s done, how about that?” He offers, using your curiosity against you to try to sweeten the deal.

Really, it’s a no brainer. Sure, he’s a strange person that lives in an alternate dimension that has some strange abilities. Sure, you know next to nothing about him despite that itch in the back of your head telling you that you know him somehow. And sure, this could be a huge mistake. But having to kiss this admittedly-attractive dude just to get out of this nightmare dimension and get back home? The choice is simple.

Which only makes you more certain there’s a catch you aren’t seeing.

“Fine. If you swear I’ll be able to go home, then I’ll do it.”

His expression brightens excitedly, a sort of childlike joy appearing on his face. It’s different from any of the expressions you’ve seen on him so far – like genuine surprise. “You will?”

“Yeah, sure.” You reply, trying to brush it off as nothing. “Not like I have a lot of other options here.”

His excitement fades slightly, though he still looks pleased with the outcome. “Glad you made the right decision.”

An unsettling silence falls as the two of you study each other once more, now much closer than the last time. Fear and anticipation builds steadily as you find yourself glancing down at his lips – realizing you’re about to know what they feel like on your own.

“Do we, uh,” you pause to clear your throat as you awkwardly break the silence. “Do we do it now? Or… What?”

He takes a step closer, entering your personal space. His voice is lower, stickier, and richer when he responds. “Do you wanna do it now, angel?”

You suddenly feel like a fly stuck in a honey trap – eyes widening as you struggle between wanting to further close the distance and to run away from him. “Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose?” Though you meant it to be nonchalant, it comes out as a nervous question.

The uncertainty in your voice only seems to make the man crack another amused smile. “I suppose so,” he replies softly, gently teasing you as he gets even just a little bit closer. You can feel your heart pounding in your neck, constantly flipping back and forth between fear, interest, nerves, and embarrassment. Looking at you through slightly lowered eyelids, he leans in toward you. Close enough you can feel the exhale of his breath on your face.

“Kiss me like you mean it, angel.” He reminds you quietly, the tip of his nose nudging against yours as your eyelids flutter closed instinctively. “Don’t forget.”

Then his lips are pressing to yours. You make a small noise of surprise, both in that you weren’t sure if he was actually going to do it and because he’s so cold. But his lips are plush and soft as he places your lower lip between his own. As promised, you kiss him back, trying not to think about how strange it feels that he’s cold and the situation you’re in – focusing on the gentle pressure of him as he steps even closer and brings his hand up to cradle your jaw.

It’s gentle and sweet as you find yourself starting to forget the reality of it all. Your hands find the edges of his leather jacket, tugging him closer as he hums happily. His other hand finds your waist – cold through the thin fabric of your tank top.

Teeth nip lightly at your lower lip and you make another small noise of surprise, a flash of heat through your chest at the pleasant feeling. It distracts you further – not even questioning the adventurous flick of his tongue against your mouth. You part your lips on instinct; his hand flexing happily against your jaw as he tests the waters to run his tongue along yours.

You return the gesture, encouraging the touch as you breathe heavily through your nose. You’re running low on air and will need to part to breathe soon. You’re surprised to find that you aren’t really sure that you want to stop to do so.

He seems to recognize the impending need too; his lips pressing against yours more insistently, like he’s getting what he can before it ends. His tongue ventures past your lips one more time, pressing further than he had before. Is… Is his tongue longer than normal?

In the same moment that he pulls away from you, the hand on your jaw claps over your mouth to keep it shut. And there’s something in your mouth.

There’s something moving in your mouth.

You make a high pitched noise of panic as your eyes double in size, looking at him in terror while he holds you tightly to his front and keeps his hand firmly over your mouth. “Ah, ah, angel. You gotta swallow it.” He coos, his palm clammy and cold against your slick lips.

You shake your head as well as you can with his grip, making noises of protest as you struggle to keep the smooth, wiggling object from sliding down your throat. Your hands grab at his wrist and forearm, trying to pull him off, but his grip is too strong. Begging him with your eyes, sharp and stuttered breaths coming out of your nose as you hyperventilate, he just gives you a sad smile. “It’s not that bad, I promise. Just gotta swallow and it’ll be over – don’t make me plug your nose.”

Painful tears poke out of your eyes and start to descend down your cheeks, nails digging into his skin to try and get him off. It seems not to affect him at all, his other hand giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay. This is it – you won’t have to do anything else. Come on, angel. You can do it. Just swallow for me.”

His words of encouragement make your head spin in confusion, panic mounting as the outcome seems inevitable. More tears pour down your cheeks as you choke on a sob, inadvertently allowing the object to slide down your throat.

“There we go,” he sighs in relief, grip on your face loosening, “Good girl.”

Somehow he knew that you’d swallowed it because he releases you right as you start to cough roughly, stumbling away from him and bending forward. You can still feel the strange coating from the creature on your tongue and down your esophagus – thick and wrong as you cough and gag.

Get it out, get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!!

“What was– How do I– I’ve gotta–” You stammer, stumbling over your words as you tremble wildly and gag, your body responding to your panic by wanting to reject the new contents of your stomach.

He appears right beside you again, gripping both of your wrists with his hands as he forces you upright. “Don’t throw it up.” His voice is a command, his expression intense. “If you throw it up, I’ll have to force feed you another one. And trust me, it’s way less fun the 2nd time.”

Tears continue to pour from your eyes as you rapidly shake your head. “What was– What is– Why are you doing this? What was that thing?”

“Calm down, angel, please calm down,” he begs, starting to look distressed himself. “It’s gonna be okay, I swear, it’s gonna be fine. You’re a part of something bigger now. It’s all going to be okay.”

You try to pull out of his grip on your wrists, alternating between yanking back and rushing forward to push him away. “What the fuck does that mean?! What have you done to me?!” You shout through your tears, white hot panic spreading through your body. “It’s not too late – I can still, I can still throw it up, I can…”

He drags you in, wrapping you up in a tight bear hug with your arms trapped between the two of you. He shushes you, standing steady against your weakening struggling against him. “Shhh, shh, it’s alright, angel. It’s okay. You’re gonna get to go home, okay? We’re gonna get to go home.”

“Sir, we’ve got activity.”

Dr. Pierce pushes out of his desk chair fast enough to make his head spin – lack of sleep and too much coffee weakening him beyond measure. He’s barely left the main building since you went missing.

Since you were dragged through.

There have been constant patrols of the fault line you disappeared into, hoping for any sign of it waking up again. It was on his order and against the wishes of General Highland. She’s a level 1 researcher. She knew the risks. It’s not worth the cost.

But you didn’t know the risks, not really. Pierce knows he didn’t do enough to prepare you, to warn you. He didn’t do enough to protect you.

This is his fault.

He’s not the only one buzzing with anticipation as he exits his darkened office; several other scientists and field agents are reacting to the news of activity with a rush. Not everyone will be allowed to go to the site, as it would be a madhouse, but several live cameras and other surveillance equipment have been set up in the area. At least a quarter of the bureau across the country will be intently watching whatever happens next.

Pierce says nothing as he makes his way for the garage and the people he passes know better than to approach him now. He can still feel their eyes – judgemental, curious, concerned. He’s felt their eyes for days.

There are several SUVs already prepared by the time he arrives, most already full of people who were approved to be on site in the case of reactivation. He recognizes the soldier standing by waiting for him as Private Steve Harrington, the same man who brought in the recorder originally. He’s one of the few people at the bureau with prior knowledge of the other dimension despite his low rank.

“Sir,” he greets with a respectful head dip, opening the backdoor of the SUV for Pierce as he approaches. Pierce returns the gesture before climbing into the backseat, sliding across the bench to the opposite side. Steve gets in after him, his bulky gear forcing him to sit far forward on the bucket seat as he slams the door closed behind him.

It only takes another minute or so before the caravan lurches and begins to move, following after the identical black SUV in front of it.

The walkie-talkie on Steve’s shoulder kicks to life quietly, a short and concise signal coming through that Pierce doesn’t understand. The exhausted scientist looks over curiously as Steve murmurs an, “Affirmative,” into the device before clicking it off.

“Any news from the fault?”

Steve glances over, surprised to be addressed, before he turns back to look out the front windshield. “Nothing yet, sir.”

Pierce keeps an eye on the soldier as they travel – watching with intrigue as the man continuously searches the vehicle’s surroundings, like he’s expecting an attack.

“You seem on edge, Steve.” He straightens in response, looking even more uncomfortable at being referred to by his first name. “Is it because the gate is active?”

A muscle in his jaw rolling with tension, Steve keeps his gaze firmly forward as he responds. “It doesn’t supply a good feeling, that’s for sure.”

“And yet you still volunteered for the theoretical strike team to go through?” Pierce wonders aloud, phrasing it like a question.

There’s a tense moment of silence before the private answers. “At least I already know what to expect on the other side.”

The two don’t interact again for the reminder of the drive.

The SUVs all pull into the vacant field beside the field tent in a line, the leader of the patrol team coming out to meet the first vehicle. Pierce watches General Highland step out of it and start to converse with the uniformed woman. By the time he makes it way over, he seems to be catching the tail end of the conversation.

“We have each unit spread out in even intervals along the fault; so far there has been no change since it first activated.”

“And they all have their protective equipment on, I presume?” Dr. Pierce cuts in, surprising the patrol leader and earning an annoyed look from General Highland.

“Yes sir,” she responds with a head nod. “I was just telling the general that they’re all outfitted with gear to protect them from the worst of the radiation, but it would still do good to regularly swap out the unit in the center, where the worst of it is.”

Pierce agrees with a stiff nod, not waiting to hear the general disagree before he turns to look back. As he expected, Private Harrington trailed him over, waiting a respectful distance away as to not eavesdrop. “Harrington.”

Steve turns at the call, jogging over to Pierce. “Sir.”

“Suit up. You’re coming with me to the source.”

“Yes sir.”

The pair of them push into the field tent, currently staffed with 15 more people than usual. There are researchers and scientists bent over displays and documenting readings, soldiers standing by with weapons, field agents watching over the researchers shoulders. Pierce walks past all of them, parting the way as he does, and starts to strip off his lab coat while pulling a radiation suit off the rack. Steve follows suit, removing a majority of his gear to reequip on top of the plastic suit.

The buzz of excited chatter is nearly grating on Pierce’s ears as he goes through the annoying process of putting on the PPE. But he misses it when it suddenly cuts off, directly after one of the researchers announces, “We’ve got a spike in activity!”

Pierce looks over at Steve, who is still clipping things to his belt again. “We’ve gotta move.”

“Yes sir,” Steve repeats once more, gathering the bare necessities in his arms to try to equip as they move. The pair of them push out the other side of the tent and set into a jog towards what used to be Forest Hills Trailer Park.

They pass a few pairs of outfitted people as they move – soldiers patrolling and scientists maintaining the monitoring equipment placed along the fault. None of them interact as the pair jogs past, heading for the end of the fault line. They can see a small group ahead – presumably gathered closer to where the spike in activity happened.

“Make some room!” Steve barks out as they approach, the gathered group moving further away from the fault line in response. Some look back to see who is coming while others keep their eyes locked on the glowing source beyond.

“Keep at least 10 feet back from the fault at all times,” Pierce orders the group as they pass. “Stay in pairs, don’t go off on your own. We have very little idea what we’re dealing with here, but we have reason to believe there are things that will try to drag you through the gate. If something comes out, fall back and call out. Don’t let your partner get grabbed.”

There is some murmuring in response, but no one openly disregards the order, starting to pair off as a few people move further back along the fault line. Pierce approaches a pair hunched over a meter near the source, keeping his eyes on the glowing red below. “What are we looking at?”

“It’s fluctuating slightly; was 116 mv/m at 31016 Hz at peak.” The researcher responds, keeping a close eye on the EMF before them. “Nothing close to the reported 189 mv/m. We might not be looking at full activation. Or maybe it’s building up, it’s hard to say.”

“Wait,” Steve cuts in, holding a hand out for the researcher to pause. “Do you hear that?”

They all fall silent, listening closely.

Then Pierce hears it – the hum from the recording. The one you were talking about hearing.

The scientist gives him a nod of agreement before looking back to the researcher. “Any sign of movement from the other side?”

“Not that we can tell from here,” the field agent answers for them. “We’ve been following the guidelines to stay back so it’s hard to catch anything from here.”

“Radio? Portable EMF?” Dr. Pierce asks, and the field agent presents both. He takes them and then looks back at Steve. “We’re moving up.”

Even behind the protection of the face shield, Pierce can see the tension in his expression. Regardless, the private still answers with a confident, “Yes sir.”

Keeping the meter within eyesight, the two push ahead, closer to the large opening at the source. Pierce watches it tick up with each step closer, crossing the 150 mark as they get within 5 feet of the edge. Looking out across the opening, the glowing membrane pulses and hums with energy, louder and louder as they approach.

There’s very little movement on the other side, but every once in a while Pierce catches a glimpse of a dark shadow moving beyond.

“Never gets any less unsettling to look at,” Steve murmurs beside him, shifting his weight between his feet as he keeps his eyes locked on the unbroken membrane.

“Dr. Pierce, we’ve got another spike!” The researcher calls from behind, voice sounding a bit concerned. “We’re edging 170 now.”

The humming increases steadily along with a slight vibration in the ground beneath their feet. Steve steps up beside Pierce, a hand out like he’s ready to drag him back from the edge, as Pierce stares into the membrane intensely.

Come on. Come on. Come back through. Just be alive. Come on. Please be alive.

A more defined shadow moves along the edge closest to the trailer and doesn’t pull back. “We’ve got movement!” Steve calls back, alerting the nearby units as Pierce’s hand flies out to hush him. They both watch with a certain level of horrified fascination as the shadow grows defined enough to make that section of the membrane appear black before it begins to tear.

A bare hand extends out of the membrane, blindly grasping for the nearby edge. Steve twitches forward, like he wants to go and help them, but Pierce holds him back wordlessly, leaving them both standing perfectly still as another hand appears and grabs onto the edge.

The person uses the grip on the edge to pull themselves through – a woman in a filthy tank top and jeans struggling to pull herself onto the flat ground. As soon as she is through, she quickly turns around on her knees and reaches back through the membrane.

You’re… You’re actually alive.

Several soldiers approach slowly with their rifles out, aiming at you as you take hold of someone else’s hand and start to pull them through. A pale man with long, messy hair appears from the other side, holding on tightly to you as you help him reorient to the change in perspective. “No way…” Steve whispers, standing frozen as he watches them start to sit up and look around.

“Dr. Pierce!” You call happily once you spot him, waving at him like you’re excited to see him. There’s a huge smile on your face, a stark contrast to your utterly disheveled appearance. “I made it! I’m back!”

The soldiers continue to keep their weapons trained on the newcomers, watching for some sign of aggression. You slowly get to your feet, offering your hand to your companion and helping him up too. Steve takes a few mindless steps towards them, Dr. Pierce no longer stopping him. “Eddie?” He calls uncertainly, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Eddie, is that you?”

The man’s head perks up, looking in Steve’s direction. “Harrington?” He replies, sounding just as uncertain and confused. “Is that you in there?”

“Eddie, as in Eddie Munson?” Dr. Pierce asks Steve, still unmoving as he stares at you, seemingly unharmed.

“Yeah…” Steve breathes out, still looking stunned. “And he doesn’t look like he’s aged a day.”

You and Eddie start to walk over when a soldier barks at you to stay back, both of you nervously putting your hands up as you look between the armed soldiers, Steve, and Pierce.

“It’s me, Dr. Pierce. It’s really me.” You insist, looking at him pleadingly. “And this is Eddie, he helped me find my way back. He saved me.” You add, motioning to the man beside you. The two of you are close together; you stand slightly in front of Eddie, like you’re protecting him. Eddie just offers a sheepish smile and a shrug, like it was no big deal.

“Sir? What do we do?” One of the soldiers asks, glancing in Dr. Pierce’s direction.

The two of you look exhausted, dirty, hungry, but… Harmless. No worse for wear despite the time spent on the other side.

“Bring them in.” Pierce orders. “No excessive force. They’ve been through a lot.”

The soldiers nod, lowering their weapons and urging you both to come forward. You look particularly relieved, while Eddie appears mostly unphased by all of it.

“Thank god, I need a shower so badly.” You announce with a happy laugh, walking toward them as you shake your head and make a disgusted face. “No one smell me, I’m begging you.”

If anyone finds your behavior unsettling or strange, they don’t say so. Everyone mostly looks relieved it didn’t turn into some kind of fight. While there is something off about how you’re acting, Dr. Pierce can’t find it in himself to feel anything besides relief at your return.

Steve stands motionless and tense as Eddie approaches, looking every bit like he’s seen a ghost. There is no excitement, no relief, no… Trust. Like this is all a bad dream and he just wants to wake up.

Just before you and Eddie pass the two of them, you flash another excited smile. “And not a moment too soon – I’m so thirsty.” You look over at Eddie, who nods in agreement, before you continue walking toward the field tent in the distance, flanked on either side by armed soldiers.

Eddie stops by Steve, giving him a tilted smile. “Hey Harrington, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Steve replies, his tone apprehensive and flat. If Eddie catches on, he doesn’t show it, just continuing to show that same smile – like he knows something you don’t.

“What can I say?” He offers with a shrug and a wink before he continues to trail after you and toward the growing crowd beyond. “It’s good to be back.”

thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson oneshot #flayed!eddie munson #kas!eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #posting a oneshot that barely explains an entire fic universe you've never told anyone about :)#myos ideas #myo4munson

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ecogirl2759 · 1 year ago

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So, I decided to take a few photos of the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS series and compile a few of the findings I thought were funny.

I don't have everything fully translated yet, so there may be a few issues with my findings. If you find any mistakes or have anything to add, please lmk :) I'll also update this if I find things later.

---IMPORTANT NOTE---

All of these drawings are NOT mine. Everything comes from the 4コマ KINGS series published by Spike Chunsoft. I'm simply photographing them and sharing them with others who may not have seen them before (since the series is out of circulation). If there is any issue with my post, please inform me so that I can take appropriate action.

All photos are below the break here :) (Warning, it's long lol) ((And there are a few minor spoilers))

(EDIT: As a side note, I've posted more pictures in an update. Idrk how this site works, so I'm letting people know here so you can find it if you want.)

Fun things that you can learn from the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS comics:

Hifumi has written, drawn, or thought of making content relating to Sayaka x Kiyoko, Aoi x Sakura (on two occasions), and Makoto x Byakuya

Toko thinks that… something… happened between Mondo and Kiyotaka in the sauna, wink wink.

Toko wrote some sort of fanfiction in relation to Byakuya, Chihiro and Mondo. Idk what it is, but the title is along the lines of "The Byakuya Family Household Sweep Away a Beautiful Girl". (Pretty sure it's a Mondo x Chihiro fic, but I could be wrong.)

^ pretty sure Syo is a heavy BL fan lol

Aoi's b00bs are so squishy, she can use them to launch herself off things.

Everyone really likes drawing pretty boy Byakuya. Like, he looks fabulous in some of these panels. Here is one of those pictures:

........Okay, fine, this is the right one:

Hifumi has drawn gender swaps of a few of the boys, being Makoto, Byakuya, Leon, Yasuhiro, Kiyotaka, and Mondo.

Leon really wants a harem lol

Kiyoko's secret picture (from the last trial in-game) was of Class 78 hosting a cat maid cafe

Yasuhiro's secret (the motive in Chapter 2) is that he's an idiot.

Mondo, Kiyotaka and Sayaka all get along really well! So do Mondo, Kiyotaka and Chihiro :)

Mondo knows how to sew!

Mondo doesn't wear eyeliner, he just has really long eye lashes.

Mondo's hair is fluffy and bouncy :)

Makoto thinks Mondo's hair looks like a corn chip. Aoi thinks it looks like a chocolate croissant :)

Chihiro once gave Mondo a game about dogs. He loved it lol

Chihiro and Mondo have actually trained together.

^ they actually make a great team :)

(I'm pretty sure that) Kiyotaka was found guilty in a trial relating to black underwear. Unclear if he was executed or not. (This point is subject to change once I fully translate the comic.)

Kiyotaka was brainwashed by the Mono-Rangers (parody on Power Rangers) in a different comic. He became Commander Ishimaru and enforced rules and dress code in a dictator-like fashion. (Full translation is still in the works.) This is what his outfit looked like:

Daiya dies in 4K

Komaru's here :D

Mukuro shows up a lot as herself! She's so cute lol

Kiyoko's kinda socially awkward lol, it's really cute.

Makoto has wanted to see up Kiyoko's skirt on multiple occasions.

Makoto has tried a couple of times to cheer Kiyotaka up. It does not work.

And now, here are some funny out-of-context panels to cap off this post! These were too hilarious not to include, I just couldn't make a bullet point out of them lol.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk :)

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oneforthemunny · 5 months ago

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6 - C - ?

#Roll game

back on my roll game shit lol. sorry everyone life beat the shit out of me but i'm back up now lol! for your roll- dom!eddie, touching toes, and belt <3

contains: minors dni, dom/sub themes, spanking w/ implement, slight voyeurism-ish??, all consensual.

"I'm not telling you again," Eddie growled, fingers fumbling with the intricate belt at his waist, two hand cuffs intertwined on the spiked leather. "Bend over and grab your ankles, or I'll make you pick a switch and do it out there instead. That what you want?"

Your body burned, cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat sending waves of heat crashing to your core. Your lips pressed in a hard line, looking towards the door, the buzz of the movie from downstairs slowly making its way upstairs.

Gareth had invited everyone over for a Halloween marathon before the new one came out. You'd been excited about it, so Eddie wasn't sure why you were so moody now. You'd woken up like that, huffy and snappy and mean. He'd warned you before you came, hoping his threats were enough to keep you in line, but they seemed to only make things worse.

Halfway through the second movie, you'd loudly announced your boredom with a groan. "Haven't you guys seen this before? Why are you rewatching it? That's so weird." The room shifted uncomfortably, all eyes on Eddie, who burned bright red, mortified at your loud declaration.

"She's kidding." Eddie said quickly, giving a forced smile that he hoped hid his embarrassment. "You're one to talk, baby, you do this all the time with Night Court."

You'd started to retort, an eye roll and a scoff, Eddie's hand squeezing your thigh harshly cut you off. You saw the anger in his eyes, sharp and daring, your tummy flipping with excitement, simmering into submission. Ten minutes later, he was hissing in your ear to go upstairs and wait for him.

"Hey," Eddie snapped, a brow lifted in rivaling challenge of your defiance, and pulling you out of your thoughts. "Look at me."

Your eyes met his in a furrowed, furious glare. "Is that what you want?" His arms crossed in front of his shirt, tighter fitting nowadays since he started working at the auto-shop part time.

"No," You muttered, looking down at your nails. "But I don't want you to do it here either."

"Should've thought of that before you acted like such a brat down there." Eddie shook his head, looking down the slope of his nose menacingly at you. He could tell by the way your thighs pressed together, shifting from one leg to the other, that wasn't entirely true.

"Hurry up, pull your shorts down and bend over. The longer you wait, the more people are going to get suspicious. Might just come up here and catch you like this." You shivered at the threat, a gush of excited wetness flooding between your legs, pushing your jean cutoffs to the ground.

Your shorts pooled at your ankles, body bent to grab at your calves, ass stuck out in the position Eddie desired. He hummed with satisfaction, the doubled up belt tapping over the globes of your ass in warning.

"I'm not doin' this long." Eddie muttered, the roaring hum of the suspenseful music rising up the stairs from the living room. Eddie pulled the belt back, sending it flying forward and striping across your ass with a firm snap.

You gasped, soft but enough that he heard it. The two of you pausing to see if the others did, but the movie continued on, so did the two of you. Eddie brought the belt down again, higher this time. Your nails dug into your calves, swallowing back a cry.

"You better keep your mouth shut for the rest of the night, you hear me?" Eddie growled, the belt cutting through the air with a whistle, a rather loud wallop of a smack landing across your flesh.

You whined, biting your tongue to keep your cries silent. The idea that the others might hear was both exciting and mortifying, left you aching with a need and burning with pleasure between your legs.

"I better not hear one," The belt swung back, hitting the space where your thighs met your ass.

"Single," Again, higher this time. You whined.

"Mean thing come outta that mouth." Two spanks, faster this time, a crescendo that had you lifting and lowers, trying to hold on and raise up all together.

"Or I'll take you home and cane you. Do you understand?" Eddie's voice was rough, firm with a threat that had you shuddering, excitement spilling down your spine, a blinding ache between your legs.

Eddie lifted the belt again, bringing it down with a hefty smack after your silence. "Understand?"

"Yes, yes," You panted, the blood beginning to rush to your head from the position, mind dizzying from the pleasure between your legs. "I-I won't. I promise."

Eddie seemed satisfied, pulling his belt back through his jeans. "Put your pants back on, and wait a minute before going down. Got it?" He watched you, giving you a nod before softly shutting the door.

You followed his instructions, brain a little foggy and a little needy after being left achy in so many ways. You contemplated slipping your hands between your thighs, finishing yourself off, but you knew that would only make it worse. You wanted to be good now, hoping that Eddie might be good to you later.

So instead, you walked back down the stairs on shaky legs, chin ducked to your chest hoping the others couldn't see your glass eyes, the secret shame on your cheeks. You winced when you settled back down beside Eddie, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer to him in a silent forgiveness, letting you curl into his chest for the rest of the night.

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spotaus · 9 months ago

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WOOOOOOOO!!!! More Ood writing!!!!

I WROTE ALOT MORE

MORE KALE:

Description of her :

She’s a short girl, standing at 5`2. Her hair is wavy (some hair strands are a bit more curly than others) with a curtain bang haircut. She wears (from the ruins to two years with sans & papyrus) a dark cyan-green ish sweater with what she claims to be Ivy embroidered on it (it’s kale…) soft yellow stitches brighten up her leaves for the most part on her sweater. Kale is known for being a dweeb who tucks in her shirt and puts on a nice belt. Her pants are baggy and long corduroys. Her mother didn’t bother buying her nice and comfortable clothes. So the school’s donations will have to do. She has cream/peach colored skin with a rosy nose and cheeks. She wears a pair of combat boots with just a bit of heels. (The heels put her at 5`4)

Kale is an intelligent and always stressed, high expectations from her demanding and unloving mother (and herself) makes it hard to catch a break.

Her mother :

A cold and callous woman with a nack for making her daughter’s life much more miserable than it already is! Mrs.Estrella is a widow to a very successful and loved man. She’s a beautiful woman who can’t stop gossiping. Her morals are around the grey. Would she kill someone’s.. depends did they ruin her designer clothes? Kale’s life at home isn’t the prettiest, from mental abuse to bullying from her mother.

This widow never wanted a child, Kale was a curse to her. How on earth was she suppose to live carefree if there’s a whiny little brat always in her stunning curls? So one day, she sends kale on her way to pick “the prettiest flower” all the way at the tallest cave at mount ebbt. That’s right folks you’ve heard it hear first IT WAS KALE’S MOTHER WHO STARTED THE DOMINO EFFECT. Much like chara, Kale sees humans (her mother influenced this) as revolting and unforgiving creatures once toriel explains why she and the other monsters are down underground.

With papyrus and sans :

here Kale is much more stressed, she out in the open and always with in of the skeletons. But she can’t spar, and one of pretender’s honest confessions (I think he’d be honest or drop a hint that he’s not the best fighter) makes her always on edge. She begs papyrus to help her get stronger so in case anything happens, she’ll be able to defender herself or them. Of course papyrus agrees but it’s very kiddie level stuff. She didn’t learn much. But after five years in snowdin. She tries to go out exploring. Some time she befriends MK, becomes a role model for him. She teaches him human behavior to help him “lure” better. For all he knows, she’s a very good shapeshifter. Until undyne tries to kill her. Undyne gets used to Kale after a few mercies and close calls. It took a lot but kale manages to show undyne. Her respect and passion for the monster race! That brings us to the echo flower scene, K wants to gift the skeleton brothers something as a thank you for all their hard work. She knows she a burden. She sees it every time there’s a close call, or a struggle. It makes her feel horrible to know she can’t do anything. But the idea is for her to get something for pretender & papyrus at the lab! She sees all the photos of that one scientist, she aware he’s import. so she assumes she’ll just have to make their day by getting something of his for them. Little did she know a certain yellow lizardfolk is waiting for her.

The lab scene :

The lab is quiet for sure, Alphys lost in her madness(how I drew her in my comic er, that I’ve realized no one’s seen but the targeted audience. Spot. Eherhhhh) anyway she she’s food deprived and looking for a bit of a snack. When she smells a certain human. Kale is unaware of Alphys or her presence until she’s being changed down winding hallways, cluttered with loose wires, stacked up paper work and other obstacles. Kale ends up tripping a trap. A door opens from under her feet and she lands in a small pit (like a classic trap, it’s filled with spikes!) luckily, kale is very very petite and only hit a few spikes. But they were enough to skim her eye; causing the scar down her face, impale her upper tight, and her left arm. Very painful. So the idea is MTT helped her escape and stalled for kale, I think she’d make it to around waterfall before asking monster kid to get pretender. She’s not doing so hot. So she settled down next to some echo flowers and chats with them until help comes.

That’s all for now 😏

dopple!tale and its characters (besides kale and her mother) is made by @spotaus or @spotlightstudios

#as always I am LOSING MY MIND over this 😭😭🙏🙏🙏 /pos #Kale Estrella moment!!!#ough I have so many lil things to look at gere it's such a treat!!!#kale estrella #kale e #doppletale #Mrs.Estrella #moot shenanigans #I'm also not tagging everyone lol #Rambles:#On god K's mom's characterization turned out really well! K's outlook on monsters/humans being influenced by her mother's treatment of her #is a great connecting point!! and Mrs.Estrella sending Kale up that mountain... damb. (Better hope Pretender doesn't get word (<-He probably #will get word tho-))#and to the next part: Tender definitely would probably give a hint of #disguising is his strong suit but fighting isn't which would inadvertently freak out Kale. and Paps would love to teach her to fight just #like you put!!! undyne probably hasn't taught him a lot of fighting tho so she'd be a bit out of luck (again like you said hehe)#spike trap!!!! I know I kinda suggested the MTT thing but I love the visual that MTT helps K then she goes to MK to find Tender!!! that's #such a good thru-line for the plot because it's all her 'friends' helping her to survive in a way! and I almost skipped it but just going #and getting past Undyne a bunch of times and mercying her is definitely K's best chance! eventually I have to imagine that Undyne would #tell her guard that K 'wasn't a human' so she shouldn't be hunted if they spot her. she's very loyal to Asgore but also knows that K #is something new and lowley thinks she's cool for surviving so long (once she finds out of course)#so much cool stuff Ood!!!#I'm not usually awake this early so I think the universe needed me to see this asap lol!!!

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undeadmagick · 6 months ago

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How my Deities Appear to Me ♡

One of my very first posts was talking about how surreal it was to see my deities (or how they present themselves to me). You can find it here. So I decided to make a whole post to show what they look like to me with descriptions and some images to kinda explain what I mean. :)

Note: I haven’t meditated with Lucifer before so his appearance isn’t clear to me. Also Apollo had a blurred/unclear face to me when we met so in this post, I’ll be talking about my other deities. If this is an interesting post, I might make a pt. 2 with Apollo even though his face is somewhat unclear to me.

Extra Note: Again, these are how they appear to ME. Obviously, deities present themselves as they think is most identifiable/comfortable to each individual. :)

Deities Featured: Hades, Freyja, Jörmungandr

Hades

Hades has always been the most clear to me. I don’t know if it was because I hold onto the memory so tightly or if it’s because I feel the most connected to him. But for Hades, he presents himself as an older man (late 50s). Many lines on his face with incredibly strong features like a prominent nose. Characters like Snape or Death from Supernatural have that side profile that is similar to how he presents himself to me. Although, Death has the most accurate face to me since Hades has that prominent bump in his nose, sunken in cheeks and thin lips. He has long, sleek black hair and usually wears a black version of Ancient Greek robes that hang off of one shoulder. He also holds his bident, using it almost like a walking stick as he walks. Incredibly tall (Although that’s a feature for most of my deities. For some reason, they all appear to be like 9ft tall.)

Freyja

Freyja also appears to me as an older woman. She has lines on her face like a woman in her older 40-50s. She always keeps a stoic look on her face, cold eyes but warm demeanor in a way. Lagertha from Vikings has a similar vibe to Freyja in having an intimidating and fierce aura but I would say Michelle Pfeiffer when playing Janet van Dyne has a more accurate appearance. Michelle has those high cheeks with lines coming from her nose downward as well as a square-ish face that Freyja has. A mature, motherly appearance while having a femininity to her which perfectly encapsulates Freyja being the goddess of love & beauty but also goddess of war. Freyja also has long ash blonde hair with some small braids in it. Most notably, she wears furs over her shoulders and golden metal jewelry. Much like Hades, she is incredibly tall, towering over me.

Jörmungandr

Ohh, my only non-human deity, lol. Bit more complicated to explain but I’ll try my best. So, obviously, he doesn’t appear as large as he’s described in mythology (or else I’d be 10x smaller than his pupils). He is similar in size to his model in the GOW game, large enough to dwarf you but small enough to fit into a deep lake/ocean. Different to that game, his scales are a deep blue/black in color. But similar to that game is that his appearance is a mix of a snake and more draconic features. His head isn’t as flat as a snake’s but is more pronounced with spikes amongst his scales like a dragon would have. His nostrils aren’t as high up like the game but instead the usual snake placement of being lower and to the front. His eyes are golden sometimes but not incredibly bright. While he is incredibly intimidating, both in attitude and size—causing my heart to race, meditation sessions tend to me calm. (Funny how looking for images that resemble him are more heartracing/anxiety inducing than actually seeing him lol. He has chill vibes.) Since he doesn’t speak physically, it tends to be quiet with just the sounds of the waves of the ocean. Only his head and some of his body appears out of the water. I’ve never seen his entire being.

#deity worship #paganism #hellenic pagan #deity work #helpol #norse paganism #hellenic polytheism #pagan #hades deity #hades worship #freyja deity #freyja worship #jormungandr worship #jormundgandr #norse jormungandr #freya deity

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velvetdandeli0n · 11 days ago

Text

I Told You Things

Rudy Pankow | Social Media Series

MASTERLIST NAVIGATION: 01

Plot: nepo-baby!singer reader, with a worldwide famous director father, navigates the trials and tribulations of the heart when she meets Rudy, after he's casted in her father's film... what could possibly be less messy than that?

Warnings for Chapter: none

Author's Note: Yn self insert with Calloway as surname. Timings on the edits aren't relevant to the story timeline; all edits are mine please don't take credit or share without giving credit.

Liked by yn.insta, hichasestokes and others variety Elliott Calloway set to direct new film 'The Silent Hour', with Rudy Pankow leading. Rudy will play Jesse Meyer, a young man residing in a small coastal town who's dealing with survivors guilt after an accident at the factory. Alongside him will be Christian Bale (returning to a Calloway project for the first time since 'Echoes of War', 2009), Olivia Cooke, and Carey Mulligan.

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rudynation Yay Rudy getting booked and busy! We'll be seated.

mrsmaybank This is huge, well done Rudy, you're amazing

reeltalk at least it's not a sequel or remake

cinephile Elliott Calloway has never done either. EVER. reeltalk okay... I didn't mean him, I meant in general

Liked by carlaciagrant, drewstarkey and others rudeth Kept this one quiet for long enough! It's an absolute honor to get to work with one of the greatest minds of a generation. My dad used to show me Elliott Calloway films when I was probably too young to watch them... now I'm gonna be in one! It'll sink in soon.

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rudyp4l so proud of you!!!

obx.swell THIS IS NOT A DRILL

jdofficial YOOOO?!?! liked by author

madelyncline THAT'S OUR BOIIII liked by author

Liked by rachelzegler, ayoedebiri and others yn.insta Ahhh 'Source of My Secrets' has been out for a whole 2 weeks! This album means so much to me, the most therapeutic release. Thank you for the love, for the streams, for the edits (yes I watch them, yes the Spike x Buffy one destroyed me), for the trend that made me sob on my fyp!! You're all magic Xx

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ayoedebiri my favorite nepo baby, congrats xx liked by author

yn.biglove an unskippable album honestly

loser.hater when will you stop writing about the past?

love.yn when will you be let out of your cage? loser.hater damn girl calm down

rachelzegler honey, so deserved! the perfect album, the gilmore girls edit hurt liked by author

❤️ rudeth liked this story

DAD Congrats on the 2 weeks, angel!

YOU Thanks dad x

DAD Having the new cast for a dinner party tomorrow night, would be lovely to have you there, if you're free x

YOU Does that make me a cast member? 👀

DAD Haha 🤣 if you really want to

YOU I wouldn't put that horror onto you You saw me in the Hairspray school play

DAD You were only 12!

YOU And I couldn't act, they only gave me a line because my drama teacher loved you

DAD So what I'm hearing is, I created a monster? 🤣

YOU Yes actually!

DAD Your mother says to bring any dirty laundry you want washing to save you wasting water

YOU I'm only coming for 1 night lol

DAD She says she doesn't care, do it anyway

YOU Fiiiiine lol, tell her thank you! I'll arrive around 6pm, that cool?

DAD Perfect x

YOU Train coming into station, I'll grab a taxi

DAD I'm in the parking lot

YOU Thank you, you didn't have to

DAD Your time management is a nightmare, I definitely did Joking xx I just wanted to see you!

YOU Where are you? Ohhh I see you! Take off that damn fedora it's Winter!!!!

AYO How was the dinner?

YOU Girl I'm so fucking drunk rn

AYO Love that for you x

YOU My dad's playing Shithead w Rudy lmao

AYO SHUT UPPP PAHAHA WHOS WINNING

YOU Mr Calloway is straight up cheating Rudy is playing honest to the bone

AYO You talked to him much tonight?

YOU Not like one on one It's more of a group activity yknow

AYO He's cute In your story, I mean...

YOU Don't play matchmaker It's not like that Literally just met him We still on for this Sat. at the Sound Loft?

AYO Yesssss! Paul will definitely be there, just like half an hour late

YOU He getting a night time run in?

AYO Lol no, he's got an audition

YOU Ooooo good luck to him I miss him, I haven't seen him in 3 months

AYO He misses you too

YOU You're so smitten with each other it's adorable I love you so much I'm so happy you found your person

AYO Drunk you is so loving Get some water, baby

YOU Gonna share the event and try get people down bc I need West of Eden to get the hype they deserve!

RUDY Yooooo are you guys up for a live gig this Sat?

#rudy pankow social media au #rudy pankow x y/n #rudy pankow fic #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow sm au #rudy pankow x you

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yesornopolls · 6 months ago

Note

Kind of a long one, sorry

A bit of backstory/explanation: My father has anger issues and is known to lash out, yell, throw things, etc. My brother (I think he's 12-13 or somewhere around that age range) is, frankly, a bit of a pest, mainly due to his ADHD.

One day, my brother is being a brat again (nothing too terrible, I think he was being pestering his siblings or something along those lines), so my father gets angry and decides to pin him against the wall with a firm hand on the boy's neck, yelling at him until he finally decides to let go. Father then lifts him so he's kind of hanging (???) off the back of the couch, spanks him hard a few times, then forces him to sit on a chair next to him, but my brother doesn't stop crying. After about 5 ish minutes of sobbing and father telling him to shut up, father shouts at him again and slaps him three times on the cheek, then yells at him again. These weren't light slaps, either.

These sorts of things are not very uncommon in our household, espacially towards the brother mentioned above specifically, but usually it doesn't escalate that far. Mother is (although she likely wouldn't admit it) scared of father and doesn't do anything about his hissy fits. She just let's them happen, then either utters a soft "Dear" to him, or apologizes for him afterwards. And I'll admit, it's quite scary knowing that if I say something to upset him, he could likely hurt me badly, and there would be nothing anyone could/would do about it. No one in the house is really big enough/strong enough to do anything if he ever took things too far.

He's never really hurt me wothout reason, nor has he really gone "Out of control", but his past outbursts cause my anxiety to spike whenever I hear him yell, even if I'm in a different room.

So, the question is: Is this something I should be concerned about, and/or should I call anyone of authority if his behaviour continues?

(Also, sorry this turned out to be a half question, half rant lol)

#polls #tumblr polls #poll #yes or no #thanks for the question #bonus poll #tw abuse

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mountainsandmayhem · 9 months ago

Text

Wings. Fire. Magic. Part Three

Joel Miller x Female Reader - AU

Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

Summary: After being stripped of your wings by The King, you see a new side of Joel, maybe a side that you might like a little too much. CW: I don't think any warnings are needed for this chapter, and I don't want to give any spoilers. 18+ due to talks of female pleasure. AN: Thank you @mermaidgirl30 for listening to me blab about this story, and being the first to encourage me writing it! So glad I slid into your DM's lol. Dragon graphics by @saradika-graphics WC: 4.1k

The sound of heavy footfalls stirs you from your sleep. It takes a few minutes for you to come too, groaning in pain as you try to get your bearings. Your body is being jolted around and when you crack an eyelid there’s nothing but a leather covered mass in front of you. You blink slowly a few times and see your arms dangling below you, possibly above you.

Fuck, where I am?

After a few more breaths you realize you’re upside down, stomach folded over on a broad shoulder. You close your eyes and focus on the rest of your body. You can feel fur on your skin, and it comes flooding back.

The guards stripping off your clothes, The Sorcerer and his mist. Fuck, if you’re not dead then that means…breeding camp.

You squeeze your fists tightly and begin pounding on the back of whoever is carrying you. “LET ME GO!” you yell as he starts ascending a winding stone staircase.

When you reach the top, the man slides you off his shoulder and places you gently on your feet. Joel. His eyes look into yours gently as he adjusts the furs over your shoulders, tightening it around you to block out the cold night air.

Four guards come up the stairs behind you. The biggest one says, “you have five days, Miller. Otherwise, we’ll come for you.”

Rem lands with a soft thump between you and the guards, letting out a menacing growling. Everything seems foggy and unclear, pain in your head pounds relentlessly behind your eyes. The last thing you remember was being placed on a table.

How are you going with Joel?

What’s happening?

You feel light headed and start to fall to the ground. Everything feels weak. Joel catches you before you fall and hoists you up to sit sideways in the saddle. Your clothes are gone, just furs to keep you covered. Joel doesn’t say anything to the guards who are now cowering in fear. The long spikes that line the neck and back of Remmer’s head are standing straight up, growling and huffing smoke at them as she waits for Joel.

“Easy girl,” he says as he grabs the reins. With a small tug she stands up tall, stretching her massive wingspan before taking flight. Joel adjusts to control Remmer with one hand, wrapping the other arm around you and pulling you into his body. Your cheek lands on his collarbone and you relax into his pine and fresh grass scent.

His lips brush the top of your head as he whispers, “Rest. I’ll explain everything when we’re back.”

“Back?” You croak. Your mouth is bone dry, how long have you been out for?

“Just trust me.”

The pain behind your eyes waves again, reminding you that this is his doing. Trust him? Not a fucking chance. You were stripped naked and poked at all because of him. You feel your wrist, no magic cuff. You lean deeper against Joel. You’re going to miss the way his eyes roam over your face, no one looks at you like that, but you can’t stay with him. You have to play it cool, make him think you’re relaxing and then make your escape. Rem won’t hurt you, she might try to chase you but you’ll fly as fast as you can, you’ll swoop into the thick forest and use the trees for cover, she’s too big to follow you in there.

Don’t move your wings, you tell yourself.

“Joel?” You saw sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes.

He grunts in acknowledgment, eyes fixed on the night sky. God he looks beautiful in the moonlight.

“Can you move back for one second? I need to readjust.”

Joel shuffles back, loosening his grip on your side. This is your chance, you slide off the saddle quickly, free falling to the ground. When Remmer and Joel are above you, you rip the blanket off and flex your back to open your wings.

Only your wings don’t open, and you’re plummeting to the ground completely naked. You start to flail your limbs, looking back to see two gaping and scarred holes that are glowing blue where your wings should be.

The ground is catching up to you quickly. Anger fills your chest. They took your wings. They took your wings. Your wings. Your magic. You’re essentially mortal now as you plunge to what will be your death.

You let out a rage filled scream, just as Joel maneuvers Remmer gracefully underneath you and you fall completely bare onto Joel’s lap.

“What the fuck did you do to me, Joel!!” You demand, punching against his chest with your fists.

Rem lands on the ground in the middle of a field of crops.

“I saved you.” Joel states.

“They mutilated me!” You’re practically screaming at him, spinning around to show him. His eyes turn sad as he takes you in.

“Saved me? No - you,“ it comes out thick with disgust, your finger pointing in his direction, “you let them mutilate me!”

Joel slides off his jacket and then removes his grey shirt. You’re mad, but you can’t stop yourself from taking in his naked upper half. He’s tanned and tattooed, markings of those who swear to protect the realm swirl down his arms. A large dragon across his abdomen and up the right side of his ribs. A tiny handprint over his heart. Before you can take in the rest he throws his jacket back on and holds his shirt out to you.

You cross your arms in defiance so he takes it upon himself to slip it over your head, the hem stopping a few inches down your thighs. Your back hurts as you push your arms through the holes, you aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed the searing pain before.

“They wanted to wake you, and torture you while they stole your wings.” He says, zipping his jacket back up with his thick, strong fingers.

“You should have let them,” you say, fighting the tears that are building behind your eyes.

“You’d rather be tortured and killed than be near me? I saved you, I told them I’d take you as my slave.” His voice is broken and pleading and it just makes you hate him more.

“Go fuck yourself.” You turn and start walking through the crops. Pushing thick stalks out of your way, not caring as they scratch at your entire body.

“Stop. I don’t intend to actually make you my slave.”

“Oh jeez thank you so much,” you snap over your shoulder. “Let me gather the masses and throw you a goddamn parade.”

“Stop,” Joel is right on your heels, “I’m not - I’m not explaining this properly.”

You continue walking, someone owns this farm. You’ll find the house and they’ll give you clothes and tell you where you are. You’re no longer in danger now that Joel has sacrificed your wings and magic to The King. Anger, confusion, sadness, it all swirls through your body. You don’t know how to feel, but you do know that you DO NOT want to be around Joel “I saved you” Miller.

“Stop!” Joel grabs your arm and turns you towards him.

You glare up at him, wishing that looks could kill because he would cease to exist with the rage that twists in your face right now.

“The King wanted to take your wings after The Sorcerer said you wouldn’t be able to breed.” Your hands come to subconsciously rest on your lower belly. Having children was never something you wanted. But you knowing that you can’t is just another knife to the back.

“So I…” he pauses and runs his hand down his face, rubbing the hair that speckles his jaw.

“You what?” You demand.

“I offered The King dragons,” he whispers.

Your jaw drops. “You what?” You say softly.

“I offered him three eggs, we settled on five.” His eyes are locked on yours, the moonlight reflecting on the warm brown flecks within them.

“Five? Joel, I was alive the last time a king had dragons,” you shake your head and look up at the clear night sky. You remember the fire, the destruction. “This isn’t going to go well.”

He steps towards you, “I have a plan, but you need to come with me. And…” he trails off, his eyes looking down at his boots.

“And what?” you ask, even though you’re sure whatever he’s about to say is going to piss you off.

“If, or when, we get a visit from The King or his guards, you need to pretend that you are my slave.” He can’t bring himself to look at you. First, he ignored your warning about The King, then he watched helplessly as The Sorcerer took your wings. You jumped from a fucking dragon to get away from him.

“And my wings?” you scoff.

“When he gets his five eggs, you get your wings back.”

The next afternoon, Remmer lands down in front of a sleepy log cabin before flying off to the heavily wooded area behind the house. The same wooded area that you snuck into just days ago to steal that fiery orange egg. Joel wanders up the stairs to the front door, opens it and then gestures with one hand for you to go inside.

The front door leads to a warm and cozy open concept living and kitchen area. Joel immediately heads to the large fireplace and lights a fire. You stand in the doorway, still in just his t-shirt, with your hands clasped in front of you. You rock on the balls of your feet and look around.

A large brown worn leather sofa sits in the middle, flanked by two cozy chairs of the same beaten down leather. The coffee table has a few books scattered on it. Large windows let in lots of natural lighting, and as the sunsets it highlights everything in a warm amber glow. The kitchen has an island in the middle, surrounded by tall wooden chairs. Cast iron pots and pans hang from the ceiling above it. Along the back wall is a large gas stove with plenty of cupboards and counter space. A deep copper sink sits underneath another large window. Everything is hues of deep greens and browns. It’s cozy and homey. It’s Joel.

“Bedrooms and bathrooms are that way.” He says, pointing to the long hallway to your left before holding his large palms out to the heat of the fire. “You can come in…”

You pad across the hardwood floor in your bare feet and sit gently on the edge of one couch cushion. The books on the coffee table are all about dragons and their histories. You glance around for any pictures or signs of other life here but you don’t see any. Does Joel not have a wife? You’ve deduced that he’s probably in his forties, so one would think he was married or a father, but there’s no sign of other life here. Just him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks as he stands across the living from you.

You shake your head no, linking your fingers and placing them on your lap, you look down at your hands, pushing back one of your cuticles. It’s so quiet here, only the crackling of the fire to fill the quiet gaps between the minimal conversation of you and Joel.

“Thirsty?” He asks sheepishly, “I can make coffee or tea.”

You shake your head again, eyes focused on the cuticle of your thumb. What you want is to go home, your family needs you, or needed you at least. You guess you’re the same as them now that you have no magic and no wings, just the pointed ears of the Fae to show the world what you really are.

Joel walks over and sits on the armchair closest to you, it groans beneath his weight, his leathers squeaking slightly against the lived-in leather of the chair. His expression is soft and kind, he takes a shaky breath before saying, “I really am sorry. But I’m going to do everything to get your wings back.”

You glance up at him, “you can’t give him dragons, Joel. You can’t.”

“Just trust me.” He says it in the same pleading tone he did before you took your insane death fall to the ground.

You shrug and then turn your eyes back to your hands, focusing on another cuticle. Joel stands and wanders down the hallway. You hear water running and then him moving around the rooms, opening and closing what you assume are closets and drawers. The water stops and Joel walks back out to you, holding out a hand.

You grab it tentatively and he leads you down the hall. He’s changed into loose black cotton pants and a fitted white t-shirt. He pulls you into the bathroom, soapy bubbles that smell like lavender and sea salt foam over the tub.

“There’s a towel there,” he says, pointing to a small stool by the end of the tub, “and some clothes. They’re mine, I’ll get you something better tomorrow.”

He turns and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him. As you lift your arms up to remove the shirt, the glowing scars on your back send sharp hot pain throughout your back and down your arms. You let out a gasp of pain, clamping your arms back to your side and you contemplate how you’re going to get out of this shirt. You glance down and thank your lucky stars that the shirt has a few buttons from the neck to the chest. Your fingers work to undo the buttons before you slip the shirt over your shoulders and down your body, then you slowly slide into the warmth of the tub that’s large enough for two. You close your eyes and breath in the calming aroma. Silence surrounds you, you can’t remember the last time you relaxed like this, where you didn’t have a laundry list of things to do and only you to do them. The salts in the bath start to dissolve, they feel like champagne bubbling along your sore muscles, relaxing them into pure bliss. You let out a content hum, sinking deeper into the hot water.

You feel like you’ve been soaking for hours when a small knock on the door catches your attention.

“Ya?” You say quietly.

Joel cracks the door, keeping himself on the other side, “are you doing ok?”

“Umm, ya.” Truthfully, you were doing ok but you know you won’t be able to lift your arms to wash your hair.

“Are you sure?” He asks through the little crack in the door.

“Umm, well….I can’t exactly,” you’ve never had to ask for help in your life, and you realize at this moment that it’s not because you didn’t want help, it’s because there was no one to ask. But now, well now you do have someone you could ask, so why can’t you find the words. “No, never mind. I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?” He asks. After you sink into the bath so only your head is visible you give a shy yes. Joel has seen you naked before, just yesterday in fact, but something about him seeing you like this feels more intimate and vulnerable.

A warm smile crosses his face, a little dimple that you haven’t noticed before dents his right cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t lift my arms…” you say defeatedly. “I can’t wash my hair.”

He stares at you for a second and reaches for the cup on the vanity and then grabs the little stool. Placing the fluffy white towel and the clothes he’s lent you on the counter.

“Spin around.” He groans a little as he bends down beside the tub to sit on the stool.

You do as he says, turning to face the wall and criss crossing your legs in front of you. Water sloshes around you and you hear some of it hit the tiled floor. You whisper a small sorry, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous.

“It's ok,” he says, voice cracking a little. He clears his throat, “Tilt your head back, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You dip your head back and close your eyes. It feels almost overwhelming to have someone care for you for once. Being in this gorgeous log cabin in a hot bath, the smell of the dinner he’s prepared wafts down the hallway and through the crack in the bathroom door. It smells like butter and garlic and some sort of red meat. Guilt swirls in your stomach. You haven’t been home in a week, your family might need you.

You hear the click of the shampoo bottle, it smells like rosemary and mint as Joel rubs it in his palms behind you. His strong fingers come to your hair line, the pressure of the small circles of the pads of his fingers are delectable. When he hits your temples a chill runs down your body, your nipples peak at the attention under the hot water. He works backwards slowly along your scalp, when he hits the nape of your neck your whole body feels like it’s buzzing. He gently nudges you so your head tucks into your chin and he kneads at the muscles of your neck. You adjust your legs so you’re hugging your knees. Squeezing your legs together to try to help relieve some of the ache that’s building in between your thighs.

Neither of you have spoken, but it’s a comfortable silence. Plus, you have a feeling that that is just how Joel is. Joel Miller is a doer and a giver, small acts like running you a bath or cooking a nice meal is how he shows that he cares.

After working the shampoo through your ends, he guides your head back, grabs the cup and rinses the suds off. The combination of the warm water and his hands parting your hair is unlike anything you could have imagined and you stifle a small moan in your throat. He repeats the process with the shampoo one more time before running the conditioner through your ends.

He stands and you look over your shoulder at him, “thank you, Joel.”

He digs through a drawer in the vanity and pulls out a comb. “You don’t need to thank me,” he sits back down, groaning again, and you can only imagine how ridiculous his broad form must look sitting on the tiny stool. It can’t be comfortable for him. He spins the end of the comb at you and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling before turning back around.

After eating the dinner Joel made, you both sit on the couch watching the fire. Dinner was accompanied by another comfortable silence, both of you perched on the stools around the counter. He made fingerling potatoes with fresh herbs, roasted carrots drizzled with honey, and a steak that he basted in butter and garlic. Now you’re wrapped in a blanket, knees tucked up to your body.

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly, swirling the ice around in his whiskey glass.

“Ya,” you pull the fur blanket around you tighter.

“Are you the only one with wings in your family?”

You hesitate for a second, “I was, now I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting you off, “I didn’t mean for that to come off as insensitive. I just feel like you have turned everything I’ve known about this world upside down.”

You shake your head and smile at the fire. “It’s ok, Joel. Over two thousand years ago, humans came into our villages. We worked together for a while, building this kingdom. Then one king managed to get his hands on a dragon, and the humans attacked us. Injecting us with that green magic in your chains and cutting off our wings to take the power for themselves.”

Joel places his empty whiskey glass on the table before he walks over to crouch in front of you. His hands come to rest on the cushion on each side of you. He makes eye contact, oranges and reds dancing around the room from the fire.

“This isn’t the history that we are taught. We are led to believe The King is good after what he’s done to fix the mistakes of that king thousands of years ago. We are also told that Fae turned on us and we fought hard against them.”

“Did you really believe that?” you scoff, “Fae back then had all sorts of magical powers. Some could have mortals like you evaporate into thin air if they wanted. Many had the ability to control minds. You never would have been able to win that war, unless we were tricked or attacked by surprise.”

You look at each other in silence for a while before you slide one hand out from the blanket and place it on his. Both of you look at your hand on top of his. He rotates his wrist and you immediately intertwine your fingers with this.

“Thank you for saving me, or trying to save me.” You say, eyes still fixed on your hands.

“Don’t thank me until we have your wings back and you’re with your family.”

You look up at him, “I’ve been the only one caring for them for over six hundred years.”

“I know. Please just let me help you.”

You slide your legs out from the blanket so Joel is kneeling on the floor between them. Your free hand pushes back a stray curl that’s landed by his temple. His eyes shut as he leans into your touch.

“Promise me that you’ll help my family.”

He releases your hand and pulls you to the edge of the couch by your waist, bodies flush against each other now. Your hand tangles into the curls at the back of his neck, the other resting on his broad shoulder.

“I swear I am going to fix this. I’m going to do whatever it takes to show you that you can trust me.”

You brush your nose against his and close your eyes breathing in his scent. Pine needles and freshly cut grass, now surrounded by the cedar of the fire and the log cabin.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you say in a breathy whisper.

“Never,” he hums. Your lips brush against his. He’s intoxicating. Just as you turn your head to let him kiss you a loud roar from the woods behind the house startles you, jolting you back on the cushion and out of his gravitational pull.

“Rem has impeccable timing,” he says, shaking his head. “I better go see what’s going on. Your room is just across from the bathroom. I’m sorry.”

“I want to come, too,” you say forcefully, standing and following him towards the kitchen.

“It’s safer if you stay. Rem likes you but, well - it’s just safer if you stay.”

Joel disappears into the pitch black of night and you decide to head to your room. A large wooden bed frame takes up most of the space, but you have a large closet and a chair that looks out a big picture window. It’s too dark to see anything now, but you know it faces the woods where Joel took off to.

The morning sun peaks its way through the big trees towards the back of the house. It streams through your windows and the dreams of Joel’s rough hands on your body fade as you blink awake.

You slipped into the plush white sheets completely naked last night, you can feel the wetness between your legs from your dream. You close your eyes and try to bring those images back. Your hands trail along your exposed skin, squeezing one breast hard, trying to imagine its Joel’s as you run a thumb across your hardening nipple.

It still feels a bit wrong to be so attracted to him, but his apology last night was so genuine, you have to lean in and trust him. He’s your only chance, your only infuriating handsome chance.

You continue playing with your nipple as your other hand trails down your stomach, tracing the slit of your pussy. Your clit throbs and more arousal wets your thighs.

You spread your legs and wish Joel was here to call you a good girl as he settled himself between your legs. With that thought your hand dives for your entrance, collecting your slick before rubbing tight, fast circles on your clit. The other hand moves to your other breast, pinching the nipple and rolling it between your fingers.

Fuck, you wish this was Joel.

Slipping your hand down, you easily slide two fingers inside of yourself, trying to reach that oh so sensitive spot that drives you wild. The other hand comes down to put pressure on your clit, turning your head into the fluffy pillows to muffle your little moans of pleasure.

That familiar burn starts to build, before you can stop it you whine Joel’s name as your body starts to shake. The wave of pleasure consumes your entire body and mind, images of him flashing behind your eyelids.

The inner walls of your pussy clench down on your fingers, when the pleasure starts to ease you slide them out, looking down to see the wetness that still connects them.

Fuck.

You roll onto your belly to catch your breath and hide your face. You aren’t embarrassed about indulging in your own pleasure, but you should not have thought about Joel Miller while doing it.

After convincing yourself that it was a one time thing and he’s out of your system now, you slip back into the clothes Joel gave you. Comfortable fleece lined grey pants and a zip up sweater with a hood and large front pocket of the same colour. You have no shoes so you slip out of the kitchen door and wander out over the cool morning grass in your bare feet.

You walk towards the woods where you know Rem will be. As you approach the clearing that you stole the egg from an eerie feeling washes over you. You take a few more steps before a large milky white dragon lands in front of you. You stumble backwards as its scales puff out around its neck. Its red eyes glow, it feels like they’re piercing into every fiber of your being. Its wings flare out, large talon-like spikes along each bend of the top ridge. Remmer is nowhere to be found. Joel’s door was closed so he must be sound asleep.

You stand, knees slightly bent, hands out in front of you. “It’s okay,” you say as camly as possible to the fierce beast.

It snarls, lips pulling back to expose long sharp teeth. Smoke starts to billow from its cheeks.

“Easy, it’s ok.” you’re trying to keep your voice calm but fear is eating at you from the inside out. Should you scream? Run? You thought you’d be coming out to Remmer, and she’d bounce over and let you pet her. This dragon is terrifying, the glassy white scales and ghastly red eyes. It’s not as big as Rem, but it still towers above you.

The dragon lets out a loud and angry growl that reverberates every bone in your body. Its spit hits your face, mouth open so wide that you can see the fire starting to form in the back of its throat.

Fuck, I’m dead.

==================================

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest

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leviathans-body-pillow · 2 years ago

Text

Mc’s Drink Gets Spiked at the Fall

(Maybe part 1)

(Mc+Asmo+Lucifer)

Trigger Warnings: drugs, getting drugged, reference to sexual assault, alcohol, puking

This is really long and I got tired of working on it lol. Maybe if it’s popular I’ll continue

Ya so I’ve been drugged at the club, shit sucks ass omg I’ve been sick and hungover before but nothing compares to how I felt that night and morning after. If you’ve never been roofied before it’s like you’re fine and then suddenly your drunk x100 and hung over x100.I was t able to even walk the next day. Thankfully I was with a friend so she was able to keep me safe and who ever did it wasted their drugs.

With all the being said, fanfics are my coping mechanism like a weird dairy. So Mc gets their drink spiked while out with Asmo and Lucifer has to save the day

Mc is gender neutral with they them pronouns

*************************************************

The night was coming to its climax! After a few fancy cocktails at Restaurant 6 you and Asmo had decided to take the party to the Fall. The dance floor was packed, the music shook the floors, and Asmo kept the drinks coming one after the other.

You and Asmo danced and drank for hours, slowly the crowd started to thin as the night grew old. You freely laughed with Asmo as you both stubbled over to the bar. Asmo was what could only be described as white girl wasted, wobbling in his heels giggling as his balance swayed back and forth. You wouldn’t say you were wasted perhaps tipping over the line of tipsy would be accurate. The fall only carried a small selection of human world liquor so compared to your date you had had considerably less to drink.

You sat Asmo a top a tall bar chair at cocktail table with in arms reach of the bar.

“Ooo grabme a drink!” Asmo slurred as you left to grab you both waters. Both of you unaware of the hungry eyes that lingered on you from a dark corner.

“Here babe” you said setting the water in front of you very sloshed date.

Asmo happily grabbed the glass taking a big swig only for his face to fall at the distinct lack of alcohol. “Hey! Thisisolywater!”

“Ya and you should drink it.”

“I’m fine~” Asmo wasn’t very convincing as he went to stand. “I’m getting somthin real todrink”.

Asmo took about two wobbly steps before he lost his balance and not so gracefully fell to the ground.

“Asmo! Are you ok!?” You quickly moved to his aid abandoning your waters at the table.

“Imfine imfine,” Asmo simply laughed as you helped him back to his seat.

“Come on let’s drink our water and have Mams come pick us up.”

“Ugh fine.” Asmo huffed taking a sip of his water.

Satisfied, you began to drink yours. Feeling a little dizziness, you laid your head down. ‘Maybe you had more to drink than you thought’

Asmo finished off his water feeling the spinning in his head start to slow. Just as he was ready to call Mammon suddenly you released what could only be described as a waterfall of vomit.

“Mc!?” Asmo was quick to side, propping you up from laying in you puke puddle. “Hey darling are you ok?”

“Mo I don’t feel sgood” you voice came out weak and strained.

“It’s ok hun come on, let get you some fresh air” but as Asmo helped you to stand you legs gave out toppling both of you to the ground.

Your head was spinning as you vision blacked out. All you could comprehend was Asmo’s voice as he frantically called over the bouncer for help.

With the help of a very concerned bouncer Asmo was able to get you out side. However the cold night air did nothing to clear your head. Asmo gently propped you up against the bars brick wall only for you to slide down legs to weak to stand.

“Hold on Mc, I’ll call Mammon we’ll be home soon.” Asmo tried to reassure you and him self as he frantically pulled out his D.D.D.

“Lucifer…” you groaned in you delirious state.

“Damn!” Asmo cursed. Five calls and Mammon’s useless ass couldn’t be bothered to answer a single one.

“Lucifer…” you weakly called you again.

Asmo paused, he could call Lucifer. There’s no question the eldest brother would answer his call. But if he saw you in this state there’d be serious hell to pay.

“Lucifer… I want Lucifer…” you called his name like a scared child calling for its father. You head lulled to the side suddenly feeling to heavy for you neck to support.

That’s it, Asmo quickly dialed Lucifers number, pacing as he waited for the eldest to pick up.

“Yes Asmodeus, what is it this time?” Lucifer answered already irritated by what ever it is Asmodeus could need at two thirty in the morning.

“Lucifer! We need you to come pick us up! We’re at a bar across from the Fall.”

“Unbelievable. Asmodeus it’s 2:30 in the morning. Do you really expect me to drop my work just to come play taxi for you. Unless your legs are broken I suggest you start walking.”

“Please Lucifer!” Asmo begged. “Mammon was supposed to pick us up but he’s not answering his phone!”

Lucifers mind wandered to Mammon who was currently hung from the ceiling. “Very well, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stay by the curd where I can see you.”

“Thank you! You’re the best big brother ever!”

Asmo knelt down to your level, patting you face gently to see if you were still conscious.

You simply groan turning you head to puke again.

“I’m so sorry Mc, Lucifer will be here soon! We’re gonna get you home and cleaned up before you know it!” Asmo assured you rubbing you back.

Asmo sat you down on the curd where he stood anxiously waiting for Lucifer to arrive. What was he going to tell the eldest when he saw the state you were in. All the times he had seen you drunk off your ass either at home casually drinking with his brothers or at one of Diavolo parties, you had never been fucked up to the point you couldn’t stand. Asmo counted your drinks, maybe three cocktails and a few shots? That’s not nearly enough to make you this sick. Asmo couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened to put you in such a state.

Asmo was startled from his thoughts by Lucifer honking his car horn as he pulled up to the curb.

Lucifer rolled down his window. “Where’s Mc?”

You had fallen back waiting for Lucifer. With out the brick wall to support you, you body had been too heavy to keep up right.

“They’re right here!” Asmo leaned down to pull you up.

Lucifer leaned out the window to see you laying on the ground. You head lulled back as Asmo hopelessly pulled on your arms trying to get you to stand.

“For fuck sake,” Lucifer groaned getting out to help get you into the car. “This is absolutely unbelievable.”

Lucifer easily scooped you up in his arms. “What the devil is wrong with them?” He immediately noticed how your body felt completely limp as though you were merely a doll.

“I don’t know! They were fine one second and like this the next! We only had a few drinks I swear!” In his big brothers presence Asmodeous finally felt his anxiety over you state over whelm him.

Lucifer signed, of course you couldn’t just be drunk, at least then he could scold you for being irresponsible. He gently rocked you, testing if you were still conscious.

“Lucifer,” you weakly called you your voice barely above a whisper. “I want Lucifer.”

Good at least you were awake although you clearly weren’t able to process your surroundings.

“Mc can you hear me?” He tried getting your attention.

“Luci? Wanna go home, don’t feel good.” You began to cry, delirious and scared you curled into his chest.

Good he thought, at least you’re responsive. “Hush now Mc, I’m here to take you home.”

Asmodeus began to cry too his head still spinning from all the demonous, “I’m so sorry Lucifer, Mc. I don’t know what happened.”

“Keep it together Asmo, just open the door so I can get them home.”

Asmo did as he was instructed chocking back more tears. Lucifer gently sat you in his passenger seat laying it back so you head wouldn’t hang forward.

On the drive back to the House of Lamentation, Asmo recounted all of the nights events to the best of his memory. Lucifer listened careful trying to figure what could have possibly happened to put you in such a state. He agreed with his little brother that it couldn’t have been the alcohol. He too has seen you wasted stumbling through the halls of HoL with his brothers, but you always seemed to bounce back rather quickly.

“Asmodeus, I want you to call Solomon. Have him meet us at home.” Lucifer signed, he hated to ask that shady wizard for help but you were more important than his pride.

“Ok,” Asmo couldn’t hide the nervousness in him voice. If Solomon needed to be involved it must be serious.

The phone rang only twice before Solomon picked up. “Hello?”

“Solomon I need you!” Asmo’s voice was desperate his anxiety over you completely consuming him.

“I’m sorry Asmodeus, I’m not really in the mood tonight.” Solomon completely misunderstood, used to the demon calling him out of a different kind desperation.

“No not that, somethings wrong with Mc!” Asmo explained everything he could, from the nights event to you current condition.

“Ok, hmm I understand. I’ll meet you there.”

Solomon was standing out side the main door when Lucifer pulled up. Before Lucifer could even turn off the car. Solomon was opening the passenger door and lifting you into his arms. Lucifer simply bit his tongue not in the mood to argue with the sorcerer.

Solomon navigated the halls of the house as if he too lived there, making his way to your bedroom. Lucifer was right behind him as Asmo stumbled behind.

“Wait!” Asmo called to Solomon.

Solomon didn’t stop but he did slow his pace for Asmo to catch up.

“Solomon, take them to me room.”

“Why?”

“Look at them,” Asmo motioned to your crumpled form.

Solomon took a moment to inspect you. Your cheeks were stained with tears, your hair matted and disheveled, your clothes were stained with puke, and your were covered in dirt and sweat.

“Let me get them cleaned up.” Asmo pleaded.

“Very well, Solomon please do as Asmo asks,” Lucifer spoke up. Above all else caring for you comes first.

“Alright, here Asmo.” Solomon handed you off rather reluctantly but he couldn’t argue considering you’re state.

Asmo carefully cradled you in his arms. Despite his thin frame you were still feather light in his arms thanks to his natural demonic strength. When he felt just how limp you were he had to bite his lip to keep his emotions at bay. All he wanted to do was get you cleaned up and tucked into bed.

Solomon and Lucifer followed him to his room further discussing the incidents to had occurred that night. They waited in Asmo’s room as he took you into his bathroom.

“I’m sorry Mc, I promise my intentions are pure at least this time.” Asmo gave you an apologetic look as he stripped you out of your vomit stained club wear. ‘I’ll have to take them shopping’ he thought as he tossed the ruined garments aside. He was carful to watch for any resistance as he removed your underwear but you were like a doll with no strength or will of your own.

Asmo propped you up against the wall for a moment as he got the bath ready and removed his own dirty clothes. He hesitated for a moment before picking you up to place you in the bath. The thought of feeling your skin against his and bathing with you did make his heart flutter but he quickly pushed those feelings down focusing on caring for you. He scooped you up into his arms, testing the water before he lowered you down with him.

He laid you between his legs, having you lay back against his chest. He went to work gently scrubbing you down. Asmo felt ashamed as his cheeks heated up and his heart fluttered running his soapy hands over your body carful to avoid any intimate areas. His emotions were running high seeing you so sick and vulnerable. He can’t help but feel his heart ache remembering how you called out for Lucifer. He wondered if you would rather have Lucifer in here with you. No, he could think that way. Not now while you were still in this condition.

He finished by leaning you back to wash your hair. He cradled you head in one hand carful not to let and water or soap get in you eyes as he ran the shampoo through your hair. He felt satisfied with getting you cleaned up and feeling much cleaner himself. There wasn’t much else he could do to help you, he felt so helpless. But, at least he could make sure you were comfortable. Asmo wrapped a warm fuzzy pink towel around your form, as well as one around his hips.

Solomon and Lucifer stopped their conversation when they hear the bathroom door. Asmo stepped out of the steaming room suspicious of they’re sudden silence. He didn’t like that they wanted to hide what he assumed they believed had happened to you. He also didn’t like the way Lucifers gaze was fixed on you or how Solomon’s gaze racked over both of you.

“Could we have some privacy?” Asmo’s question came out as a demand as he placed you on his bed to fetch you both pjs.

“Right,” Lucifer quickly turned around, averting his gaze from your form.

“Of course,” Solomon however turned around slowly his eyes lingering in you.

Asmo quickly dressed you in his coziest jammies before dressing himself. He tucked you into his bed making sure you’re head had plenty of support. By this point you were out cold and completely unresponsive to anything happening around you. Asmo sat next to you on the bed, gently pushing your damp hair from your forehead. “Alright, you perverts can turn around now.”

Lucifer and Solomon both turned back around. They traded glances before meeting Asmo’s eyes.

“So what were you talking about?” Asmo asked trying to keep up his usual sweet and innocent act.

Lucifer spoke first, “we were discussing a few theories about what we believe happened to Mc.”

“Oh? And what’s wrong with them?” Asmo couldn’t have hidden how nervous he felt even if he wanted to. They were being awfully cautious.

Solomon spoke now, “we believe it’s either a curse, a poison, or a human world drug.”

“We just need to examine them to figure out which it is so we can better treat them.” Lucifer finished.

Asmo could take a hint. Reluctantly he moved away from the bed allowing them to approach.

Solomon and Lucifer took his place by your side. Lucifer went first scanning your body for any hint of magic tampering or a curse. Solomon then thoroughly checked you over. He checked your vitals, as well as your eyes and mouth. He felt over your body searching for any abnormalities that could indicated the use of Devildom poison.

“Well?” Asmo asked growing impatient watching his friend feel you up.

“Well Lucifer?” Solomon asked first.

Lucifer sighed, “I didn’t find any residual magic or signs of a curse. And you Solomon?”

“Well the good news is I don’t believe they were poisoned at least by anything that could be found here in Devildom.” Solomon rubbed his chin in thought.

“Ok so then what’s wrong with them!?” Their answers did nothing to calm him down. “If it’s poison or a curse, what is it?”

Lucifer and Solomon shared a glance again. Lucifer shook his head no but Solomon remained firm. Before Lucifer could stop him he stood to face Asmo. “It’s hard to confirm with out proper medical testing but I believe Mc’s been drugged with a human world substance called Rohypnol or some call it roofies. It’s commonly used in the human world to sedate victims so they’re easier to s…”

“That’s enough Solomon.” Lucifer cut him off before he could finish but it didn’t matter, it was clear Asmo understood as the color drained from his face.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d heard of “getting roofied” before and he was fully aware of how humans used it. Asmo’s felt sick. Best case scenario you’re attacker would’ve just devoured you. However he knew if they had gone to the trouble of drugging you with a human world drug they had more than just eating you in mind.

Asmo broke down. “It’s all my fault.” He fell to his knees sobbing, “Mc could’ve been raped or worse and it’s all my fault.”

Lucifer said nothing. Truthfully he wanted to be furious. Angry at you for being so careless and angry at Asmo for not keeping a closer eye on you. But he just didn’t have it in his heart to lecture his little brother who was currently crumpled up on the floor crying. And fortunately for you he was much more worried than angry.

Solomon kneeled down to Asmo’s level gently placing his hand on his shoulder. “What’s important now is it’s nothing fatal and Mc will get better with rest and plenty of water.”

In his mind Asmo knew Solomon was right, you were going to be ok at worst just extremely hung over and dehydrated for a couple of days. But his heart ached with the knowledge of what could’ve happened.

This knowledge also weighed heavy on Lucifer’s heart. One slight slip up tonight and you might not have been with them now. Although you’re time in his life so far had been short, he couldn’t imagine it with out you.

“Since Mc’s going to be ok,” Lucifer finally spoke. “I’d better go start working on the paper work and reporting this incident to Diavolo.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose the exhaustion of the night catching up to him.

Solomon signed, “I’d better join you to help explain Rohypnol and how it’s used to Diavolo. Watch over Mc for us Asmo.”

Asmo sniffed taking a deep breath to calm him self. “Ok I will.” Solomon help him to his feet, turning to exit with Lucifer.

After the two left Asmo stood there for a moment focusing his breathing to calm down. He looked to you still knocked out. You looked as bad as you probably felt. While still sniffling, Asmo went to work on your face routine at least want he could while you slept. He massaged the serums in to face, feeling satisfied with the slight glow they gave you. He took care of his own routine before running to the kitchen to get you both water.

#obey me asmodeus #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmo #om swd #obey me headcanons #obey me writing #om asmodeus #obey me luficer #obey me solomon #om lucifer #mc x lucifer #lucifer x mc #asmo x mc #asmodeus x mc

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strawurberries · 2 years ago

Text

Tongue and Teeth

Summary: Vash x reader porn with absolutely no plot.

Authors Notes: I got a little lazy near the end, and I haven't proof read this yet so please be nice 😭 ASDFGHJHGF But i hope you all enjoy!!

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m/f receiving), uhhh idk? It's porn lol

“W-wait!” Vash slapped a hand over his mouth, lewd songs leaving his bruised lips. If he wasn’t so fucked out he would’ve cringed from embaressment—never would he have guessed that one day he would be laying in a moonlit room, tangled in the blankets and body of his lover. It had to be a gift from God, or perhaps fate; regardless, whoever had given him the chance to experience this moment, whether it be divine, devilish, or mortal? He thanked them sincerely.

Another touch ghosted over his thighs, so unbearably warm. A small line of drool pooled out the corner of his mouth, hitting scarred his shoulder with embarrassment and longing. He couldn’t take this anymore—the fleeting touches, the giggles, and feather-light caresses. It had taken a while to coax his cock—well, something similar: beautiful and a light, glowing blue textured with bumps and ridges—out of him. Shly hidden in the depths of his slit, curling and waiting for any sort of stimulation. She had pressed a finger into him, thumbing his flesh walls as her tongue tasted everything he had to offer. Within a couple minutes (and God, what an eternity rested in those minutes) he had revealed himself fully, the cool desert air making him shiver and throb with desire. Since then, since her victory, she had done nothing but tease! Tease! Tease! Tease—

A hand rubbed the top of his slit, slightly touching his cock as sharp teeth found their way into his inner thigh. Pleasure and pain were a combination that brought him back to the stars, the high he’ll never attain again—the infinite possibilities of the universe all twisted into a mural of dots painting along the horizon, and he was lucky enough to be able to see it.

Another bite and another flick of her finger.

A sob got caught in his throat.

“I’m sensitive!” he whined, slamming his eyes shut—as if every mortifying noise he made would fade into the darkness and leave his burning, red cheeks alone. He knew, though, that he was in trouble now. She didn’t like it when he turned his head away—or closed his eyes in this case. She loved to make sure he watched his own reactions, his body as he moved in ecstasy, and observed as she did every dirty thing he could ever hope to imagine. It made his entire stomach twist when she’d grab his face, force him to watch as wrapped those plump lips around him—

Oh god.

The thoughts that plagued him—the images of her, neatly seated in between his thighs, elbows on the bed and face so close against him he could feel her hot breath as it fanned across his cock—he whimpered and tossed his head to the side, panting like a dog. The image was too good, too divine. Those soft eyes, soft skin, her warm mouth. . . he bucked his hips and gasped. “Please!” He didn’t know what he was asking for, what he wanted so badly his entire stomach coiled in suspense and desire, but he knew that if he begged enough, she’d understand and give him what mortal love he longs for.

A soft, delicate, almost feather-like touch dusted along his chest. He sucked in a deep breath, shuddering out a sigh when he heard her voice, lips brushing along his ear, “darling, you know the rules.” Her voice dripped like honey, sweetening his mouth to the point that all he wanted was to taste her again—feel her every essence. He was an addict, and Oh God did he enjoy every second of it.

He whined, bucking his hips, again “I can’t!” He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. A delicious pain throbbed at him, ebbing him closer to abandoning all sense of pride. A spike of pleasure, seasoned with the feeling of emptiness and hurt, crushed through his heart as it slowly made its way down further, further. . . further until it hit that delicious spot in between his legs.

She laughed and pulled back, setting herself on him—oh no. Her deliciously hot flesh thrummed against his, pressed against his erection, but she did nothing with him. She watched, observing as he waited for something, anything, to happen. With a grin and grabbed the base, blowing cool air over the tip.

A spike of pleasure shot through him so quickly, overtaking his senses in such a flurry he didn’t even realize he had grabbed her hips, throwing his entire body into her as his eyes snapped open. He lifted her up slightly, relieving enough pressure off his cock so he could think straight. Her hand slid off slowly, painfully slow, as if she didn’t want to let go (he didn’t want her to let go but he was scared, nervous of how wonderful he felt. Does he deserve this? Deserve her?)

“I’m sensitive,” he repeated breathlessly. Through hooded eyes he watched her: curves illuminated faintly by the midnight mood, hair messy from the ruthless tugging he had inflicted upon her, and that gorgeous face.

“Oh?” she grinned and pressed herself into him

He yelped, throwing his head back. “M-mayfly! Wait! Wait!”

She dragged her hand down his chest, tickling his scars as she went, “you’re getting awfully distracted, aren’t you?’

“Never! I’ve never been dis—” he moaned when she finally reached where he wanted her too. With a firm gasp she grabbed him, kitten icking the tip. Several strings of saliva dripped off her teeth, rounding the curve of her bottom lip only to connect with the burning flesh she held just below her mouth.

“How’s that feel?” she licked again, pulling away the moment he squirmed or gasped. “C’mon Vash, answer the question or I’ll stop here.”

He whined. It was too much, he couldn’t do it. The pulsing pressure that kept dulling fading in the pit of his stomach, only to rear its head the moment she touched him—this is what the ocean tide must feel like. One moment everything he lusted for was rushing towards him, only to be ruthlessly ripped back and tossed into the swirling depths of the sea. “P-please,” he cried, eyes stinging painfully.

She hummed, “answer the question, Vash, and I’ll make you feel good.”

He slapped a hand over his eyes, stomach tight with anxiety. “I-it’s good but I need,” he sucked in a deep breath, “I need more, please.”

“All you had to do was ask, Love.” And, with that, she wasted no time lowering her head, lips wrapping around him and showing him what heaven felt like. Her tongue swirled around him, tucking itself under every ridge and bump that decorated him; warm saliva mixed with his precum, dripping messily out of her mouth and onto the parts of him she couldn’t take with her mouth alone. Once she realized her mouth was lacking, she used her hand to pump the rest of him, bringing her other hand to fondle her breast.

He gasped and gripped the sheets, fingers digging into the mattress. A flurry of white hot pleasure started to build down within him, slithering through his veins like a disease that he could only praise. She hollowed her mouth, sucking her cheeks in, her teeth grazing along him—”fuck!” He slammed his head back into the pillow, bucking up. “I’m–’m so so sorry!” he groaned as he shoved his hips into her face again, unwillingly moaning at the choking sound she gurgled out. “Please!” He frantically grabbed her head, lightly tangling his fingers in her hair as he guided her; moving her head slowly as first, but quickly picking up pace as the knot within the depths of his belly began to coil into an impossibly tighter sense of pleasure. He pressed his free hand into the bed, pushing himself up—oh God.

She had nearly half of him in her mouth, one hand pumping what she couldn’t fit, and the other slowly trailing down to her cunt. Her fingers lazily rubbed her clit, focused mainly on making Vash feel good. He choked back tears and mumbled out a string of barely unrecognizable words. At the sound of his voice, she glanced up, making eye contact with him and he mewled. He slammed her head down, crying out another apology as he hit the back of her throat, feeling the vibrations of her gag echo through him and in one, shuddering sigh, he fell back onto the bed with a thud. In a daze he heard the sound of a pop as she took him out of her mouth. A hand pressed into his chest and he turned his head to face her, face heating up at the sight of his cum leaking down her chin. “D-did I hurt you?” He grabbed her waist, nervously rubbing the flesh.

“No,” she smiled, “I like it when you’re a little rough.”

His heart skipped a beat and he nearly started crying.

“So I was rough?!” he buried his face into the base of her neck, “I’m sorry! So sorry! I won’t do it again! Promise. I-i just got caught up in everything, you know? I—”

She nibbled on his ear, drawing him away from his ramblings. “You’re fine, Vash. But if you’re really sorry, I have an idea of what you can do to make it up to me.”

He sucked in a deep breath, “y-yeah?” Several stray tears fell down his face, but she kissed them away quickly. After a moment of silence she pulled back and shuffled up to hover over his chest, “I wanna feel good too~” she pressed one hand against the headboard, the other going back to fondle herself. “Watching you be all fucked out—” he whined and gripped her hips tighter, “made me jealous.”

“I’ll make you feel good too,” he mumbled, nodding his head frantically, “whatever you want!” He watched as she rolled her nipple in between her fingers, panting lightly at her own touch. He bet he could make her feel better than she would ever be able to do by herself. His cock started to throb again.

“How kind,” she grinned, bringing her slick covered hand to his lips, wiping herself on him. “Are you ready?”

He licked his lips and nodded, not trusting himself to speak with excitement and lust so strongly beating at his throat. This almost felt like a prize, yet shouldn’t she be mad? He was too rough, he had made her choke! Wouldn’t she rather—

"Good boy,” she cooed. “You know what to do, right?”

Oh god. He bucked into her, all thoughts leaving his head like the good boy he was. If she wanted this, who was he to deny that? “Of course, Mayfly!” He shimmed under her, hands gripping her thighs as he stared up at her cunt. “Beautiful,” he muttered, tugging her down lower, “so beautiful.”

He pressed her nose against her, inhaling her scent as he debated on whether or not to tease her, but her slick dripped down his face, and he decided he didn’t have the patience for that tonight. Like a starved man, he attacked. His tongue ran along her folds, sucking anything he could wrap his lips around, periodically finding his way back to her clit; he’d slowly circle his tongue around it, lightly scraping his teeth against her as she shivered and moaned.

He pulled back, admiring his world. She was wet, needy, and so mesmerizing. If this was his last sight before he died, he would die a happy man.

“V-vash!” she moaned.

He ignored the urge to tease her more, licking his lips as he hummed an acknowledgement. He plunged his tongue into her, lapping and drinking whatever came his way. Soon, he was lost in the haze of desire, teeth lightly gnawing and lips coated in layers of his lover's cum. After a moment he realized her legs were shaking, light cries leaving her lips. He grasped her tighter, positioning her so he could hold her with one hand as he brought his other hand—his prosthetic hand—to caress her more.

She screamed with delight and sung his name with such lust he nearly cummed again.

He shoved two fingers into her, stretching her walls as he moved back to her clit, savoring the moaning that drowned out the wet slap of his mouth against her. She gripped his hair, cursing and praising him all in one go, tugging harshly. He let her take her anger out on him, moaning into her as a flash of pain struck him.

Her thighs flexed and she thumped her head against the wall, “Vash! Vash!” He didn’t stop, feeling her clench around his fingers. With a loving hum he flicked his tongue faster, sucking on her like she was going to be her last meal. With a couple more pumps of his fingers, she gasped and collapsed onto him, his mouth greedily leaving her clit to consume his reward.

“Such a good boy,” she mumbled, “so, so, good for me.”

After he finished his meal he sat up, bringing her to sit in his lap as he wrapped his around her. “Anything for you.” He loved her more than she could ever know. And he longed to serenade her all day with how amazing she was, but, for now, a hug would have to suffice.

She sighed and buried her face into his chest. She wiggled and then paused, looking at him tiredly, “are you hard again?”

He awkwardly moved his hips and huffed, “maybe?” He gave a sheepish grin.

She smiled and laughed, trailing a hand down his chest once more, “fine by me~”

Tags: @sunspottss @cascading-escapist

#there was one other person that wanted to be tagged #but i couldn't find them #im so sorry ASDFGHJJHGFD #trigun #vash #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun vash #vash stampede #vash x reader #Trigun x reader #vash x you #vash x y/n #trigun vash x reader #trigun vash x you #trigun vash x y/n #Vash smut #nsft #Strawberry writes

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mxr1na · 3 months ago

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✧˖°ʚ🍵ɞ♡Sicktember Day 1[I’m not hungover, I’m just sick]Jeckole Angst- Class of ‘09✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

A/N: Day 1 of @sicktember’s 2024 Event! I really had fun doing this even though it was a time crunch cause I was just aware of the event like yesterday, but it’s fine. 🌊🫧Info!🫧🌊 730~ words

Inadequate writing lol

See here! to participate in the Sicktember event!

See here! to find all my Sicketmber works!

Tw!- Heavy swearing, drug abuse + mention of vomit. Viewer discretion is advised.

Enjoy ^^

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “Bitch why the fuck you haven’t been answering my calls? I know you don’t want to do the project, but I need this to graduate high school-”

Jecka slams open Nicole’s bedroom door, an obscene amount of annoyance washed away as she spots the brunette rotting in her bed in the humid room, which feels like being in a gym locker room.

Somehow, Nicole still looks appealing to the male demographic even if she is sickly pale with eyebags so deep you could’ve mistaken them for potholes.

She coughs, and smiles wanly at her. “Hey Jecka,”

“Oh shit are you okay?” Immediately at Nicole’s side, Jecka looks at her, feeling the creases and wrinkles under Nicole’s eyes. Her ebbing annoyance spikes up again.

“Ugh, did you try that MySpace challenge, the one where they’d snort a foot long line of whatever drug they could find? You know people actually died from that shit right?”

“When did you keep up with the news? No, I’m just down with the flu. I’m not that crazy,”

“The Spanish Flu?! Yeah right, don’t fucking lie to me. No one looks this bad when having the flu. Where’s the stash?”

“Well I am!” Nicole snaps. “I get sick easily.I’ve been convulsing and throwing up for hours, couldn’t you tell?” She points to the evident putrid vomit bucket, almost filled to the brim with puke beside the bed.

“Ew, shouldn’t your mom, like, empty that?” Jecka scrunches up her face.

“No, she’s too busy stocking up her medicine cabinet with beta blocker to care… Speaking of, can you get me some Paracetamol from there? Everywhere hurts like hell,”

Jecka sighs “Knowing you, you’d probably mix it with bedside stash of Xanax, crush it up and snort it, so no, stay hurting like hell,”

“Fuck you, whore,”

Jecka rolls her eyes and sits down on the side of the bed.

“That being said, I’m really concerned about you Nicole. This life isn't good for you…”

“Who are you? My friend or a guidance counsellor that isn’t trying to fuck me?”

“Okay you know what? Fuck you, I’ll just tell you straight. You’re fucked up and need help, and not even the cool sexy way that people fantasise about. The way people are being put in the mental asylum fucked up. And I’m sorry I can’t be like you, or even want to be like you, bu-”

“Oh don’t make me laugh. We’ve popped percs and have done drugs together, don’t act all high and mighty now, when you yourself is as bad as I am,”

Jecka hesitates, scrambling her brain to say something as equally smart as her statement only 10 seconds ago.

“Well- atleast I don’t take the illegal shit, just fucking around with kid stuff to blow off some steam! You know, the ones that literally every high schooler would take in high school?”

“Oh, just because what I use is illegal makes me worse than you huh? The outcome is the same, isn’t it? The reason we take it is the same, is it not? Using it to get off some steam. So when I use an alternative you don’t like, then, I’m in the wrong?” Nicole’s face is manic, insane, testing Jecka’s will to not just bend her back over to agree with Nicole, like she usually does.

“Stop trying to act all philosophical and shit to guilt me into agreeing with you. I’m just trying to help,” A tentative step backwards. Look at you Jecka! Making progress!

“I don’t need your fucking help Jessica.” Nicole chucks the bucket at Jecka, who swiftly dodges it, all but some vomit finding its new home on her shirt.

After that, she just…

Snaps.

Jecka shoves Nicole, making her hit the headboard, earning a bunch of her hair being roughly pulled, almost ensuring her to be left with a bald patch on her scalp.

“What, the FUCK NICOLE? I WANT TO HELP BECAUSE WE ARE FRIENDS! WHAT, JUST BECAUSE I’LL BEND MY BACK OVER FOR MOST THINGS YOU ASK ME TO DO MAKES ME YOUR LITTLE PLAYTHING? YOU’RE FUCKED UP AND NEED TO BE LOCKED UP!”

“I DONT NEED YOUR HELP, AND I NEVER DID. JUST FUCK OFF!”

Ouch. That must’ve stung. But if it hurt Jecka, no evidence of it showed on her face.

“OKAY I WILL” Jecka slams the door shut, a gross trail of footprints tailing behind her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mxr1na 2024. Do NOT copy, rewrite or claim work as your own. If you see my work elsewhere, please send an ask :3

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stitchwraith-stingers · 2 months ago

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(some-what of) an analysis on patty possom(?)

inspired by this post on the PE-AZ yes this episode is my fave yes i unironically love patty yes i was a fnaf kid yes i am utterly deranged

some of these r incoherent because its midnight and i wanna post this as fast as possible before i go to bed and wake up at the crack at dawn

yayyy patty ^_^

one of the first things ive noticed post becoming alive like the next frankeinstine is that her eye wasnt fixed by the mechanics, which as ill discuss later imply a sort of negligence (? i think) to the properly, i however dgaf and like to interperate this as her having a lazy eye <3

she seems to be a genuially nice person!!!! um . i dont know how to continue this paragrapth pretend theres something here thats interesting

imagine being born into the world and already having a dreadful fear of being abandoned. crazy, mustve impacted her very hard

though this probably means it gave her fake memories or she was already sorta vaugely away of whats happening?? like psudo sentient?? if that makes sense, how the hell do you know this girl, you havent BEEN to the devils sacrament

the way she goes about it and the ending shows that she has no clue on how to socialize or their cues at all, or just cuz of the pov its intentionally shown as more creepy (which it probably is, you could hear her go "where r u going :(" in a sad tone), shes a massive werido and i love her for that

point is, shes nice but has no idea how to say "nooo dont leave me haha" normally cuz she just appeared 2 seconds ago with no idea of proper communication, does that make sense..... help

heres the thing i love about this the most, shes at the end of the ep shes seen dragging background character #47 in the same tone of voice and hes seen uncomfortable. PAN TO THE NEXT SLIDE IN WHICH THEY SEEM OK IN THEIR PRESENCE

LIKE . THE GUY JUST ACCEPTS HER HAND TO HOLD WHEN SHES SHOCKED..... THEY R BESTIES AND IM TIRED OF PPL OVERLOOKING IT, and the fact that i dont think we get to see him again (cuz they couldnt fit him anywhere in the background? i think) makes it better for me, balding old guy notices furry twice his size scared of being left alone so he decides to stay here just for her.... MANNN

the general area

lets see, were right off the bat were introduced to a good few places, the fun tunnels, the game zone, a claw machine thats rigged, the place with the signature snack which i wont go over because thats kinda of its own gag but its sticky and probably unhealthy, and the main stage

i assume the fun tunnels are made with a holograpthic effect inuniverse, and i think theres some LED lights in there to make it glow, i was going to say its polyethylene plastic but i dont think that exists google stock photos lied to me, also not related but it looks like a horrible spray paint job was done on this thing lol

also acording to the lyrics theres supposed to be 3 more members, a raccoon, cat and turtle . i dont think we see craggle in photo though rip (if theyre not a sphyinx ill be dissapointed), tyrone seems to have a 60's? aesthetic going on, rascal has a punk aesthetic going on and patty has a more modern aesthetic ? i think, the spiked collar is throwing me off

from winns dialouge in the start implying that they havent been here in a good while ("when i was little" ur in 5th grade) and the fact that their instruments are still there, then this was probably a recent desicion, or atleast long enough for a 10 y/o that hasnt been here in awhile to be upset by this and for patty to be immediatly spawned in with abandonment issues

along with a rigged claw machine and the snack i think it implies that the people over there who own this establishment are probably really cheap, and the fact that the PRAMBY snack is really sticky is definatly going to cause some health issues down the line, something something fazbear entertainment

oh and also, theres like a split second frame where this shows up, obviously its just there as a morbid joke but atleast it shows us this establishment is atleast old enough to have someones decaying body be bone by now, which after writing that makes me sound stupid because skeletonization might not take as long as i thought it would ("3 weeks to several years" depending on the surroundings)

whoever was there seemed to have been stuck for 25 days at least and has gone undetected, which means this place is linked to one unsolved missing persons case and they dont have a clue (most likely), also theres ballpit balls inside this thing i fucking guess?? theres no actual ballpit in the place idk what this kid was doing

i have tried to make up a map of how the place looks but im always bad with rooms ? and i had to take a fewwww small creative liberties with this cuz i couldnt figure out where theyd be but close enough👍👍

#calico.exe #long post #not under a cut fuck you #I HATE THE WAY I WORD THIS BUT RHARNHARHRNHNARHRNAHNRHAN #IM SO EMBERASSEDDDDD BUT ITS LIKE.......... IDC IT MAKES ME HAPPY FUCK YOU LOOK AT MY POSSOM #fop #fairly oddparents #fop a new wish #fairly oddparents a new wish #patty possom

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x-candy-guts-x · 2 years ago

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The way my puppy and cat play together makes me think of like the yautja children with the reader lol.

•After a few hours of playing and story telling what your most recent carvings were crock came over and ruffled your hair to grab your attention. Looking up at him he gestured for you to follow. It took a little while but with a small hovering vehicle of some sort the two of you reached the city. He decided today he would bring you there for a day out and maybe get you a few things to help you feel comfortable in your new home.

•many yautja lined the streets and even a few different alien races. One shop was selling meat that had been precut and even some dried.

•he got you what looked like a kabob of sorts

• “why is it SPICY”

•for a moment you lost your yautja. You were left in the middle of a busy street with aliens all around and you felt like a kid who lost their parent.

•meanwhile the yautja you had come to know and call crock was at a booth looking at some knives. He found a few and bought them. When he’d turned around you were gone. Panic set in as he whipped around looking for you. He put his mask on and began trying to get to higher ground. Up on a building he could see you much easier with his mask but getting you to stay in one place long enough for him to get back down and make his way to you was a problem withen itself.

•somehow you had managed to wind up a whole mile away from where he was. It took him about 10 minutes but he did find you. And oh boy..

•a big yautja had bumped into you and was now making a scene about this “stray” who shouldn’t be here. He picked you up by your throat and hoisted you up. His grip got tighter and tighter until you started to see black dots in your vision. Then you got an idea. He wasn’t wearing a mask luckily so you swung your legs up and slammed them down into the crook of his elbow. This made his arm bend and you headbutt him with the force of a pachycephalosaurs. A more recent carving of yours-.

•this made him let go of you as he stumbled back. He had what would be the equivalent of a bloody nose on a human, only he didn’t really have a nose so it was just broken skin. You gasped for air and went to stand up but as you did you felt a tremendous force knock the wind out of you. A big clawed foot kicked you square in the chest and sent you back a few feet. By now a crowd had formed.

•crock ran down the street trying to get to where you were hoping he’d get there before any serious damage was caused. Unfortunately the crowd blocked his path to you so he had to try and find a way around.

•coughing you stood up again. The yautja responsible for the assault let out what you could only assume was a laugh. It was more of a rapid clicking. You wanted to get out of there but there was no way out. The eight foot crab face retracted out his wrist blade and got ready to attack but was stopped. Another yautja, a bigger one with a lot more spikes and wrinkles grabbed his arm and ripped it back. “Do you not see she is unarmed?”

•the younger slightly smaller one looked to the ground and pulled his blade back up his arm. “You.” The older one pointed. “Who is responsible for you?”

•you weren’t sure how to answer. You had a hard enough time pronouncing their language and you didn’t really know his real name. Luckily an arm shot up in the crowd. It parted for crock to walk up. “I am.”

• “see to it she doesn’t disrupt things again.” Crock nodded and gently grabbed you by the upper arm and pulled you away. “What happened?! Why did you run off? Do I need to put the collar back on you? You said you’d behave!” His voice was so loud to your small ears, You broke down in tears. He leaned back up. He was hunched over and in your face and didn’t even realize it. “I.. I’m sorry. I know your frightened right now.-“

• “I didn’t run off!” You screamed interrupting him. “I got lost! The crowd here is so busy! And you disappeared! I tried to find you but I couldn’t!”

•the two of you remained still for a moment. He could tell you were being genuine. So instead of speaking he took the hair in your face and pushed it back. There was a cut on your forehead that was bleeding and a few around your neck from where the other yautjas claws had dug in. The bruising that was yellowed and nearly completely healed was now a terrible purplish and much worse than before. He used his mask to make sure nothing was broken and then he gently took your hand and guided you out of the city in a less busy rout.

•it was a mistake bringing you to a busy city for your first outing. He realized that now. He should have tried a small town first or maybe even just around his village and the surrounding area. When things were nearly dead he sat you down outside of a shop and told you to STAY PUT. You did and when he came out he held a furry little creature. Handing it to you he grabbed your free hand and the two of you walked back to the alien vehicle.

•once seating you saw how familiar the creature was. It didn’t have any tusks but it was fuzzy, black and definitely vaguely pig shaped.

•once you guys were back and inside the home you let the pig down and the little yautja-who you started calling Tim, ran up and hugged the little piglet. He was so excited he started bouncing up and down and running all about. Over near a table crock opened up a bag and pulled out a few things. Some soft fabric. Some carving and cutting tools and a bunch of what looked like string. He handed you the tools. They were for carving! And there was one blade that wasn’t. It had detailed engravings on its blade and handle and was the perfect size for you. “To defend yourself.” He gestures to you.

• “thank you.” You put the blade through your belt and sat down at the table to examine all the little carving tools. There was even paint to go with it.

•while you busied yourself he brought the fabric and such to his room and began to work. It was night before you saw him again. He made some dinner and you showed off your latest carving which now had moving parts and paint. This one was a velociraptor. The feathered kind and it’s legs and arms could move. It’s tail was carved similar to the wooden snake toys pretty much all kids on earth had at some point that would move side to side and pinch the fuck out of your fingers if you weren’t careful. You chuckled at the memory and handed the colorful dino to Tim.

•he was most definitely spoilt now that he had you and his dad wrapped around his grubby little fingers. It’s ok though he was a super sweet kid.

•when you went to the room for bed you noticed your pile of pelts weren’t where you left them. Instead they were folded up and on the bed was a few articles of clothing. One looked like a gown of sorts for bed. It was light and similar to a tank top, just a bit longer to cover your butt. The others were,, how would you put it. Skimpy? But sturdy. One was a loincloth with a matching cropped tube top and the other was a cropped dark brown soft leather jacket. The colors were all various shades of brown and tan. You felt them and they were so soft. You decided to put on the gown and go to a mirror to see how it looked. When you did crock walked in.

•he approached but didn’t touch. “Fits well. Hopefully keep you cool on this hot planet.” He wasn’t going to admit it but he also liked how it showed your figure. He thought to himself over the course of the now roughly couple months you’ve been on the planet about you. Things about you. Your hair. Your skin. Your stature. Everything about you was.. for a lack of better words, cute. You reminded him of the baby pig. Not in a bad way. But you were soft, lovable, gentle, sweet, caring. But you could also be dangerous. He thought about the way that despite your fading consciousness you put up a fight against a being several times your strength and size. You made it bleed without a weapon.

• “you can sleep in my bed if you would like. It is more comfortable than the floor.” He climbed in and settled down. After a moment you joined. He was right. It was so much softer. A little weight could be felt at the foot of the bed. Tim and the baby pig curled up at your feet. Sighing you closed your eyes. ‘I could get used to this.’

#yautja #predator #alien vs predator #predator x reader #predators #predator x human #predator x you #yautjas #crying and throwing up I almost lost this whole thing

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alottanothing · 6 months ago

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Keep Playing [part one]

Summary: September 1978, Eddie Munson wakes to the sound of arguing. With his father out of the picture, his mother Betty choses to leave her son with the only man who ever cared him.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse

Tag List: @itswormtrain (please let me know if you would like added to this list)

A/N: Hello friends! I'm back to writing, and this time it's for a completely different fandom. This series is a labor of love between me and @itswormtrain. In fact, our friendship blossomed because of Eddie Munson, and now we are both so deep in this, that we're tying it into other fandoms that have no business being related lol. This is our world that has been bringing us lots of joy for almost two years and now we finally get to begin the journey of sharing it. This is just a taste of LOTS that we have brainstormed and planned for a very long time. I'm hoping to keep updates fairly regular, too, as I have a lot already written that just needs some editing.

On the anneversary of Eddie Munson coming into our lives, we hope you enjoy this first part of many into our own canon.

~September 1978~

That night, he dreamt of The Shire, and it made him happy.

Whenever he found himself drifting languidly through that picturesque world, rife with smiling faces and togetherness, Eddie Munson felt free. He dreamt of endless cerulean skies reaching to kiss the lush green hills and the spiked peaks of mountains lining the horizon. There, with the halfling folk, Middle Earth was a peaceful place. A safe place. A place tucked away and out of sight of the searing eyes of the Dark Lord. A place where a kindly uncle raised his nephew.

Often, Eddie wished he could venture past the words printed onto the pages of the books he could only ever read in the Hawkins Public Library. Just like he wished he could be a hero in a far-off realm, Eddie wished he could bring his favorite books home, but the ladies there never let him have one of the fancy cards. The keepers always told him they were out.

He never minded really; Eddie liked the library. It was safe like The Shire. And while it wasn’t lush and green or full of magical wonder, it was quiet, peaceful; and for the most part, all the people there were nice to him. At least nicer than what he had at home.

Books and dreams were the best way to escape the walls he had no choice but to call home. So he did all he could to surround himself with books; even if that meant walking all the way into town and to the library.

The Oakes was a cluster of run-down apartments located on the outskirts of the city: a nesting ground for Hawkins lowlives, and the place Eddie called home. It was an unkept and out-of-the-way haven where unsavory things could be left to rot in peace; the walls were crumbling and most of the windows were broken or boarded up. Every sound crept through the thin walls, from the chittering of pests to the shouting of others next door. Most anyone would look at the derelict structure and pity anyone unfortunate enough to call such an unforgiving environment home. But for Eddie, it was all he truly knew. So, as he lay on his secondhand mattress, covered with a single blanket — rife with various burn holes from cigarettes and other paraphernalia — to stave off the morning chill, Eddie couldn’t help but be content as he dreamt of a land better than the one in which he dwelled.

It was early when he heard his mother’s voice outside his door—his room only slightly larger than a closet. Her words were low, marked with an edge Eddie knew too well. She was frustrated, though, seemingly not at him for once. He didn't recognize the man's voice that came after his mother's, though it did seem to be the root of her irritation. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying an air of authority that demanded attention. It was confident, yet there was a hint of cruelty that grated on Eddie's nerves the longer he listened to the man speak.

Strangers were a familiar occurrence after Eddie’s dad got arrested. Every one of them had been men, and none of them were ever friendly. Ever since Walter Munson was carted off to prison for the multitude of crimes he'd committed over the years, there had been a revolving door of men in their apartment. The visitors came and went, mostly at night, and never stayed long enough for Eddie to learn any of their names, most of the men ignored him, just like his dad had always done, others weren’t as polite. Rough hands and cigarette burns were never something anyone could get used to, though Eddie tried.

The truth of it was, Walt wasn’t much better than those strangers who ignored him or burned his arms with cigarettes. Anything those men did, Eddie’s father had done it first. Sometimes, the only memory Eddie had of his father was the pain. When Walt went to prison, Eddie could only mourn the idea of a father: a man whom he could look up to and rely on. Someone who taught him how to fish or play ball. Walt did none of those, however, but did leave him with the skills to hot wire and pick locks: skills of a criminal.

Eddie didn’t want to be a criminal; he wanted to be like the heroes in the books he read.

The continuous arguing between his mother and the man on the other side of his door created a subtle hum that wasn't quite strong enough to break Eddie's grip on his dream. That was until the creaking of his door echoed through his small room, shaking him as he desperately clung to sleep. Tendrils of reality were quick to bleed into the illusory green of The Shire, pushing him closer to consciousness. For a few moments, he found himself caught between the realms of dreams and reality; gradually the real world seeped into the vibrant landscape of his mind. The idyllic meadows and rolling hills began to lose their luster, the colors faded and the magic waned. The sounds of song birds and the rustling leaves were replaced entirely by the harsh sound of his mother's voice, growing louder and more irritated with each passing moment.

“I am not taking the boy, Betty.” The stranger’s tone was stern, cruel to a degree.

Eddie kept his eyes squeezed shut, begging for the gentle Tolkien landscape to remain.

“I know,” his mother said, and even with his eyes closed he could hear the grit of her teeth. “We’ll take him to his uncle's.”

“Good, now hurry up. I’m not waiting all morning.”

The remaining fragments of Eddie's dream finally shattered when a hand shook him free of it's peaceful imagery, with a touch that was slightly more forceful than necessary.

“Edward, get up now,” his mother forced a pillowcase into his hands as he sat up. “Put your things in there: clothes, toothbrush—whatever. Just hurry, and do not make me tell you twice.”

Eddie blinked, the light spilling into his room making his vision worse as he rubbed the crust from the corners of his eyes.

“Where are we going?”, he asked with a yawn.

“You are going to stay with your uncle for a while.”

“Uncle Wayne?!"

His mother balled her fists, jaw growing tight as she took a heavy breath through her nose.

“Edward, I swear to God—I don’t have time for this. Pack your shit, or so help me, I won’t take you to Wayne’s. I will leave you here. Is that what you want?”

“No...” Eddie cowered.

“Then do as I say.”

He nodded and began stuffing things into the pillowcase without saying another word.

Despite his mother’s sharp tongue, once she left him to pack, a small grin worked its way across his face from the notion of going to spend time with his uncle.

Months had passed since the last time Eddie saw his Uncle Wayne. Driving trucks cross country kept him away for weeks and months at a time, and Eddie always missed him. Still, he always looked forward to the days his uncle was back in town.

Wayne was always kind, and patient—he never yelled or threatened him. Never burned him or raised a hand to him. Wayne always made sure he ate three whole times a day, which was more than he ever ate when he was home. Eddie found great relief in the thought of spending a few days at his uncle's place. It would provide a much-needed respite from his mother's constant scolding. The walls of their small apartment always seemed to amplify her voice, making every word feel like an arrow piercing directly through his heart, likely aided by the lack of artwork or much furniture. No matter what he did, or how much he tried to be good, he was faced with a never-ending symphony of disappointment and frustration that echoed through his mind, leaving Eddie feeling defeated and trapped.

He did his best not to dwell on any of the words she said, but it was never long before more were hurled his way.

But now, the prospect of escaping to his uncle's was like venturing back to his dream, back to The Shire. Wayne's trailer was a sanctuary he seldom had the opportunity to seek. Eddie wasn't going to squander his visit, no matter how short his visit would be, even if it was just for the afternoon. All he wanted to do was fill his mind with thoughts of all the fun he and his uncle would have, just like Frodo and Bilbo.

With little more than a change of clothes tucked into the pillowcase he’d been given, Eddie’s mom grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him out of the apartment complex before ushering him into the back seat of the strange man’s car.

Immediately, Eddie's nostrils were overwhelmed by the pungent smell of cigarettes, the offensive aroma stubbornly clinging to the orange, stain-adorned, velvet upholstery, as though the scent had become the very fibers themselves. The whole back seat had clearly seen better days. What was once surely soft and plush to the touch, now felt rough and coarse under Eddie's hands. All the dubious marks—a mishmash of stains, smudges, tears, and the ever-familiar circular burns—seemed to have a story of their own. The combination of those marks created an unsightly mosaic that fostered a sense of unease in the pit of Eddie's stomach. A song played on the radio that he didn't recognize, the juxtaposition of the upbeat melody and the increasing tension in the vehicle causing his head to swim. The odor faded after a couple of minutes, and the stains were easy to ignore, but the song remained. Eddie did his best to listen to every word, with the hope of drowning out the harsh whispers happening in the front seat.

The man at the wheel exuded an aura that stood diametrically opposed to the serene radiance of the morning sun streaming through the car windows, which coupled sourly with the rest of Eddie's overwhelmed senses. The piercing gaze of the man's deep-set eyes reflected in the rearview mirror seemed to accuse him of some wrongdoing, though Eddie had never met the man before that morning.

As he attempted with the stain on the seat next to him, Eddie did his best to ignore the stranger's scrutiny. Every racing thought in his head, he began to fill with memories of his uncle and the fun they always had. Little by little his frayed nerves calmed, and his focus drifted to the world outside his window, watching the familiar sights of Hawkins pass by. All of it was gilded, at least in his mind, drenched in the golden light of morning that evoked a sense of majesty. There was little greenery to be seen, no mountains sprawling across the horizon or centuries-old trees stretching into the blue heavens. Nevertheless, the scenery outside the car window reminded Eddie of The Shire, and he found the corners of his mouth drawing into a small smile.

Before long, the urban landscape of brick buildings in the downtown transformed into lush—though not magical—woods, charming farmhouses, and vast fields of beans and corn until finally Forrest Hills Trailer Park emerged on the horizon. Abruptly, the car came to a halt, the brakes crying out loud enough to startle birds perched in the nearby trees and the motion enough to toss Eddie forward in his seat.

“Get him out!” The man barked. “Be quick.”

“Alright! Jesus.” Betty barked back.

His mother’s hands weren’t gentle when she tugged him out of the rear seat, across the gravel, and up to his uncle’s door. Eddie barely managed to grab his pillowcase of belongings. He winced with each step, his heart pounding in his chest as he did his best to keep up with his mother's brisk pace. The lack of tenderness in her touch mirrored the coldness in her eyes, a look unbefitting of such a beautiful, warm morning.

As they finally reached his uncle's doorstep, his mother released him from her grip, but the forceful tug had left him off-balance. Eddie stumbled forward, barely managing to keep his footing as his pillowcase slipped from his grasp. Panic surged through him as he watched his belongings spill onto the ground, his few possessions scattered and vulnerable.

Quickly, he dropped to his knees, doing everything to keep his hands from shaking as he scrambled to gather every item he'd dropped, feeling his mother's eyes boring into him. She offered no assistance or sympathy, she simply watched him with an air of irritation and disappointment before turning back to his uncle's door.

“Wayne, It’s Betty!” Her fist beat against the door as she spoke. “Open the door!”

“Just leave the brat!” The man in the car shouted from his open window, his biting tone causing Eddie to step closer to his mother out of fear. The lesser of two evils…

“No!” she shouted back.

Eddie watched, keeping himself as small as possible, eyes teetering between his mother and the angry man in the car. He just wanted to be with his uncle, the one adult in his life who had never raised his voice or handled him with any sort of ill-will. He wanted to feel safe.

“I know where the key is,” Eddie offered quietly, wanting the screaming to end.

Thankfully, his mother heard him and immediately stopped pounding her fist on the door.

“What?” She almost looked mad, and Eddie’s focus fell on his ratty tennis shoes, afraid to look her in the eye.

“I know where the key is,” he repeated, softly. “Uncle Wayne showed me.”

“Then get it,” she snapped, more frustration souring her expression.

Eddie bounded off the short stoop, easily finding the spare key hidden at the juncture of the steps and the side of the trailer. He gently pulled at the loose piece of siding and the silver key fell into his palm.

When he offered it to his mother, he did so with a small smile—proud he’d remembered the secret place and that he could help his mother—but she snatched it from his hand without a single word of praise or thanks causing Eddie’s expression to fall. She seemed angry that Eddie knew of the key’s existence at all...

Without a word, she let them in, pulling Eddie by the arm again until he was left standing alone in the middle of the living room, while she stalked through the trailer, shouting for Wayne.

“Shit,” she huffed, coming back into the room, annoyed not having found him.

Outside, the man in the car was laying on the horn, shouting just as loudly. With each baleful blare, Eddie cowered into himself, wishing the man would just leave.

“Jesus Christ.” His mother shook her head, peering out the window before turning to Eddie and sighing.

“You give this to your uncle whenever he gets back, okay?”

Eddie nodded, shoving the envelope she passed him into the pillowcase that contained his meager possessions. The envelope felt heavy in his hands, though he could feel it was just a sheet or two of paper. How could it feel as heavy as it did? When he raised his gaze to ask what she'd written, his mother was gone, leaving the screen door bouncing against the doorway.

Confusion washed over Eddie as he stood there, clutching the pillowcase tightly. His mother's sudden disappearance left him feeling a mix of emotions, mostly, he'd expected her to offer some form of goodbye before embarking on an uncertain journey with the strange man. When should he expect her back? How long would he be staying with his uncle? He'd never know, as he watched the car peel out of the gravel, his mother never once looking back.

The entire morning had been a series of strange occurrences, leaving without saying exactly how long he’d be with his uncle seemed the strangest of all. For whatever reason, his mother never liked having his uncle around, never liked when he’d visit or when Eddie went to stay with him. She always wanted him back as soon as possible. His mother never left him at Wayne's without telling him when she would be back. Even so, he was determined not to waste a single moment he had with his uncle.

Wayne was the only pillar of strength and reliability in Eddie's life; they'd shared a special bond going as far back as he could remember. The longer he stood there, wondering why his mother left so abruptly, the more Eddie realized he didn't care so much.

For a moment Eddie contemplated reading the note he’d shoved into the rucksack of a pillowcase, wondering if he’d find any answers inside. However, the longer he lingered in the silence of his uncle's home, the less Eddie cared about the note. Wayne would be home soon, and the strange man was gone, two facts that settled warmly over him. He felt safe at last.

With a sigh, his eyes took in the familiar sights of his uncle’s home, finding that little had changed since his last visit. Aside from a few new mugs and hats hanging on the walls—souvenirs from all his treks across the country—everything remained exactly as Eddie remembered it. Even the dishes in the sink seemed the same ones, untouched since he was last there, a couple months prior.

Strangely, those few plates and forks left forgotten in the sink induced an abrupt sense of dread. His mother had scolded him countless times for leaving a single dish unwashed amidst the filth that engulfed the entire apartment. The contrast between the untidiness of their home and her berating to clean a few dishes always left him wondering if his mother found pleasure in treating him the way she did. Why could he not leave a dish in the sink when she refused to clean at all?

The sudden flood of memories forced the onslaught of dread deeper. Uncle Wayne never yelled at him, still, the persistent echoes of his mother's screams in his mind caused him to abandon his belongings by the sofa and promptly attend to the dishes, striving to silence the relentless barrage of hurtful words in his head, and prevent new ones once his uncle returned home.

With the two bowls, a plate, and several pieces of flatware left to dry in the rack on the counter, Eddie relaxed a little, looking around to see what else needed to be done. His uncle’s place was far cleaner than the apartment; there was trash on the tiny kitchen table: wrappers from granola bars, crumpled paper napkins, and other scraps, which Eddie tossed in the bin next to the washer. He took the liberty of emptying his uncle's ashtrays and stacking the magazines a little more neatly on the coffee table, as his mother would've wanted.

Every small chore he completed helped the dread subside until the only unpleasantness he felt was the emptiness in his stomach. It growled angrily and while his mother liked to keep all their food out of his reach, Uncle Wayne kept an entire cabinet stocked with all of Eddie’s favorites, and not just the cheap store brands either. Wayne always bought him good stuff. That single cabinet was like a treasure trove, rife with cereals, chips, pretzels, and even candy bars. The fridge also housed a handful of things just for him too: sodas and juice boxes, even Yoohoo’s.

After several minutes of consideration and a few more rumbles from his stomach, Eddie grabbed one of the freshly washed bowls and filled it with an assortment of snacks: a generous pour of Honeycomb, a handful of pretzels, and a package of M&M’s. He also swiped a cold can of Coke from the fridge and planted himself on the sofa.

That was where he stayed, patiently awaiting his uncle, munching on his snacks, and indulging in the luxury of watching TV. The morning cartoons shifted into daytime dramas, turning into evening favorites before horror movies ruled the screens as the sun went down. Eddie watched it all, only getting up to grab more of the snacks from his cabinet. His belly was full for the first time in a long time, and he felt at peace. All the strangeness of the morning began to fade as the hours passed.

The last part of The Exorcist was playing on the television when his eyes began to droop. With Wayne still gone, Eddie pulled his sleepy body from the couch long enough to fetch the spare pillow and blanket folded neatly in the hall closet and sauntered back. He kept the TV on, volume low, as he settled against the cushions hoping to find Frodo and Bilbo and The Shire waiting for him in his dreams once more.

Next Part ->

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