#sorry i'm late :'v

[tp2-byes]

°˖✧ 新年好! · Xīn Nián Hǎo! · Happy New Year! ✧˖°

Bonus:

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more — making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[nightwonder7]

So… thoughts on hunter Mike/Hullabaloo?

I think he looks REALLY goood!!! My goodness, all the foreshadowing and predictions turned out to be true I love that they keep riding the horror train for the IDV hunters lately, and this one is borderline nightmare fuel, which I love! My first attempt at describing him was "an anguished personification of a jack-in-a-box" fhdsfjkhsd His character trailer went so hard too! 👀 Looking forward to see what he can do in-game!

To Mike, the circus was his everything, and losing it sent him into despair. And wanting revenge on the one responsible for turning his life into ashes on top of it too. On one side we have the Mike who loves the circus, being the centre of attention and spreading joy to people. He is joyful, lively and colourful. Then there is the other side that is the Mike who is full of agony and despair because he lost the thing that meant the most to him: the circus. The deeper the love, the greater the pain of losing it. It is that very love that drove him to pursue revenge.

Hmm I'm trying to figure out how he would fit into the id/ego model, but I'm not too sure. Somebody else can probably do a better analysis than me. So far I guess the "coin" would be his love for the circus and as a performer, where one side nurtures the love and passion by spreading joy (Acrobat), while the other side desires to protect and bring justice to the circus (Hullabaloo). I dunno fdgsfhjsd

OOooohhh he would struggle adapting indeed fgsghjfsd He's been around as a survivor for a long time. At least Norton kinda paved the path for him already and can guide him a little. But I can see the other survivors becoming just as wary of Mike as well. At least Norton "gloomy, avaricious, sent-a-dozen-men-to-their-deaths" Campbell being a hunter made sorta sense, but Mike "silly, lively, full-of-joy-and-laughter" Morton becoming one was a shock to most. Who's gonna be next? It could be anyone! Is identity switching infectious? Nobody is safe...

fhdsjafldsa sorry, Ithaqua, the pool of faction confused hunters is just growing XD

[taintandviolent]

morally violating ; Kai Anderson x reader

warnings: kai is the warning. okay okay, real warnings: hatefuck (surprise, surprise), female receiving, clothed sex, rough sex, spanking, aggression, choking, degrading language, unprotected sex. a/n: 2.7k words! turned out to be part 2 to my howlin' for you fic. i feel like an anon requested this, but I'll be damned if I can remember which one. if it was you -- here you go! it's late, but who cares. you guys don't care, it's Kai. was originally part of my lazy (and embarrasingly late at this point) kinktober. week two AND three; spanking, clothed sex and degradation. so uh... enjoy. sorry if it's clunky and bad and weird and rushed!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

​​You swept the blush brush over your cheeks and heaved a sigh. Ultimately, you were disgusted with yourself. Right? It might not have been surface-level, but somewhere, deep down, you really were. You had to be. It was sickening that you hadn’t stopped thinking about the furious fuck you two had had almost two weeks ago. You, as a proud feminist woman, found that very morally violating. Actually, you found Kai very morally violating. And yet, here you were, threading the ribbon of a Red Riding Hood costume through the faux-corset front. You knotted it tightly and gazed in the mirror.

You made a cute Red Riding Hood and your tits sat nicely in this corset. At least there was that. There was the possibility that he wasn’t even going to come, which was probably the best option. There was also the possibility that he would walk through the door with Winter. If the latter happened, you’d feel like a fool in front of your friend, and an absolute pathetic, begging whore in front of her brother.

Which is what you were. You knew Kai would make sure to tell you that.

You heard the first ding of the doorbell. Giving yourself a final once-over, you turned and bolted down the stairs. Your eyes swept over your living room, making sure it was presentable. You’d decorated modestly. Streamers of orange, black and purple hung from the ceiling, those little table top decorations were clustered on your coffee table. Carved pumpkins greeted guests at the door.

With a bright smile on your face, you swung open the door. A cluster of friends from college stood on your doorstep; hugs were exchanged before you ushered them inside. It was non-stop after that. Your guests flooded into your home, and before you knew it, you had to hold your drink above your head to navigate. Within a few hours, you had yourself, by all definitions, a successful party. You were two Red Solo cups deep, and you still hadn’t spotted either of the Anderson siblings.

Your eyes unfocused, watching the throngs of people as they undulated to music and clustered in corners of the room. Reminiscent activities of a college party, some playfully slapped each other, some made out, while others danced, feeling the beat of the song playing. Others had taken to sitting on the staircase, lounging against the wall and the bannister as they chatted.

“Hey there, little Red Riding Hood…” a voice said. Your eyes refocused onto a particular head of blue hair, wavy locks hanging on either side of his face. His dark, brown eyes penetrated — no, violated yours.

“You sure are looking good.” Song quote. Cute. Not.

Everything he said sounded so threatening, even when it was complimentary. Especially when it was complimentary. He was scanning your body like a drill sergeant examining a soldier, scrutinising every minute detail. Intentionally, you puffed your chest out, lifting your cleavage and squaring your shoulders.

“Did you let yourself into my house?” You snapped, incredulously. “Where’s Winter?”

He stiffened, obviously put off by your immediate attitude. “She’ll be here. Later. Had something I needed her to do.”

“The fuck?”

A beat.

“…did you let yourself into my fucking house, Kai?”

“Did you intentionally dress up like Little Red Riding Hood after I dressed up as a wolf?”

Your open mouth closed wordlessly, lips rolling inwards. The question was rhetorical, and answering would only humiliate you further.

“Why don’t we go discuss your choices upstairs?”

You stared at him, a vicious fire burning behind your eyes. Hoping he’d… what? Retract his statement? Run back out the door, finally realising that you weren’t one to be fucked with? Doubtful. He never backed down in front of a woman. Besides, if he did, you’d likely stop him, catching his arm at his bicep and yanking him back towards yourself — because you didn’t want him to leave. And you knew it.

With a huff and a sharp turn, you headed up the stairs, navigating around the people that sat on the steps. Every feminist cell in your body screamed perilously at you as he followed you up your carpeted steps, the heavy stomp of his boots following closely behind you.

You were in no mood to self-rationalise, you were too busy trying to calm the drooling monster between your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut, silencing the thoughts as you opened the door. The guests would entertain themselves — this wouldn’t take long. It didn’t last time.

He began surveying your room, walking it with his hands behind his back as if grading you. When he came to your bathroom, he toed open the door with his boot, and peeked his head inside. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw — maybe his own reflection. All of this made you acutely uncomfortable. You shifted your weight, flipping the frill of one of your petticoats.

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… come…. Here.” He repeated, more sternly than before.

For whatever stupid reason, you obeyed him. You marched your sorry little ass over to where he was standing, staring up at him like a lost puppy. The bathroom door was still ajar, and you could see inside, courtesy of the little butterfly night light that was plugged in above the sink.

Kai reached in, flattening his hand against the wall and flipped the light switch.  

“Put your hands on the counter.”

You hesitated. This didn’t sound good. But as soon as Kai jerked his head in the direction of the countertop, you hurriedly flattened your hands on the counter, keeping your eyes locked on his reflection.

“Good. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’ve thought about our little encounter at Winter’s party often, haven’t you?”

You shook your head.

THWACK!

Your jaw dropped, stunned, as a burning red welt swelled on your right ass cheek, the flesh tingling with pinpricks of pain as the blood rushed to the surface. There had been no warning for the first, and there wasn’t a warning for the second, or the third.

“Let’s try that — wait. Oh. You like this.” He spat. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head again, indignantly, and Kai reared his hand back. You flinched and tightened your muscles, waiting for the impending impact. You knew it would piss him off — maybe that’s why you did it. Filling your mind with horrible things that would hopefully keep the arousal at bay wasn't working. You were failing… miserably. Spanking wasn’t something you’d explored in the past, never would have thought to. But the way that he was leaving large, burning handprints on your ass cheeks had you leaking out into your underwear. You could feel it, you knew it. Fuck, so wet… fuckfuckfuck.

As if he could hear your thoughts — a terrifying thought — Kai hooked one finger around the crotch of your panties and harshly yanked them to the side, exposing your slick folds. The tip of his middle finger explored curiously, unsurprisingly finding the beginnings of a juice-fest. Slippery, clear liquid oozed from your opening, and you heard Kai chuckle through his nose.

“Oh, no? What’s this?” He asked, knowingly. You had yet again lied to him. You personally didn’t see it as a lie but as a vicious betrayal from your own body. A wet, vicious betrayal.

“Nothing,” you rasped, ashamed, and knowing full well what was coming.

“What was that?”

“I said… nothing.” Might as well accept your fate now. You gripped the edge of the counter, bracing for impact.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Your knees buckled in pain, a desperate whimper falling from your lips. Welts rose until your entire backside was a crimson, burning masterpiece of his hands.

“Clearly, you haven’t caught on. Allow me to explain this to you. Every time you lie to me, you’re going to be punished. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh, but Kai, I like it when you spank me like the disobedient bitch I am.’ Maybe so.”

You didn’t appreciate the mockery of your voice.

Kai flattened his palm on the searing mound of flesh, caressing it tenderly as if deep in thought. Somehow though, the gentle touch made it sting more than before. You writhed away from his hand, only getting an inch or two away before he crudely yanked you back into place. Tossing you around like some sort of rag doll. “But, eventually, pleasure turns to pain. It’s up to you if you reach that point.”

Condemn yourself or liberate yourself? The answer was obvious. You sought pleasure not pain, and if Kai was willing… You met his eyes in the mirror, boring deep into them. You bent your arms at the elbows, stretching them across the counter and arching your back, pressing the curve of your juicy ass against his groin.

“Just fuck me,” You begged. Pathetically, desperately, whiningly. “That’s all we both want. It’s why we’re — why we’re here. There’s your truth, Kai.”

For a moment, Kai didn’t speak, he just stared. Just… watched you in the mirror. You drew your bottom lip in and bit down hard, hoping to entice him further. Slowly, his large hands slid up your back, going as far as the fabric would allow before dragging them back down again, his nails raking against your bare skin. Abruptly, he took hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh too hard, twisting your expression into one of pain. With the still warm pain of the spanks, you couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

“Is that really wha—

“Don’t ask me if it’s what I want,” you groaned. “Don’t fucking ask me that.”

That launched him into action; his hands leaving your body. He unbuttoned his jeans, reaching in to pull his throbbing cock free. His gaze drifted from you to himself, looking down at it. Decently hard, but could be harder. The chase hadn’t been as long as last time, giving him less time to get worked up. He gave it a few angry pumps before lining it up with your slit. 

This was the second time you were going to fuck Kai Anderson — and in a similar way; pissed off and completely clothed. Behind you, Kai used the tip of his cock as a toy, slapping it messily against your swollen, blushing cunt, threads of precum stringing from your clit to his head.

You shuddered. Kai dragged his cock down, pressing the bulbous tip into your pink, weeping slit. Gushy and searing hot, the spongy walls clenched, forcing it back out. Kai grit his teeth and pushed the head in harder, breaching it. Slithery warmth washed over him, gripping it tight. His cock twitched inside of you, seeking out depth. “Ohhhhh…. Fuck. Fu-”

With the head of his now rock-hard cock planted inside you, he no longer needed his hands and let go, moving them up to sweep his hair out of his face. He was embedded inside of you now, slick walls gripping his shaft, carnally begging for more. Using only the strength of his core, Kai backed out and plunged his cock back in repeatedly, popping the head in and out of your wet pussy. With one determinate thrust and a deep groan, he pushed himself all the way in, his lower abdomen bumping against the fullness of your ass cheeks. 

His hands dropped heavily to your ass, taking fistfuls and pulling the cheeks apart to watch as it slid in and out, coated in your arousal. You whimpered, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering speedily. You hated him so much, but it felt so good. To turn dick down this good… would just be a waste. Not only was it long enough to hit your cervix, his cock was thick and veiny and massaged your insides in all the right spots.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, reaching one hand around to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Your lips puckered out like a fish. “Look at what a little whore you are.”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to the mirror. You couldn’t deny your reflection; your red and white petticoats fluffed up around your waist, your previously perfect curls knotted in his fist, and your face distorted in a whorish display. The cherry on top was every time Kai’s cock bottomed out inside you, you winced and let out the most pathetic, whimpering moan. It was like a bad porn moan, and it was coming from you. Kai’s hand retreated from your face, slithering down to your neck, where he gave a firm, warning squeeze before returning to its place on your hip.

“I bet…” He paused, thrusting hard into your cunt a few times. His words were breathy and laboured. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this since that night. You like this.”

You had — that part was true. The other part about ‘liking’ it? Up for debate. Your pussy certainly did with the way that she clenched her slick walls around his thick cock, hungrily gripping it every time he tried to slide out.

“You fuckin’,” You clenched around him, letting out a shrill moan through gritted teeth. Your voice cracked. “You fuckin’ wish, Kai.”

THWACK!

That one really hurt. Hot tears welled up before streaming down your cheeks, leaving lines in the rouge. Kai slowly leaned over you, pressing his toned stomach against your back and even through clothes, you felt the muscles tensing.  He angled his lips right next to your ear, and hissed: “I don’t have to wish for anything. I get everything I want.”

His hot whisper made you shiver violently. And he didn’t — he was right. You were giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for. Just like one of his little pathetic, whinging groupies. He started pulling you onto his cock, hard, and your entire body seized up, your walls shuddering, pulsing, quivering with the sensation. You pressed your head into the countertop, moaning loud into the sink. The wet, slapping sounds drifted into a singular dull thudding noise; your ears were ringing, your chest heaving. His pace quickened, his thrusts merciless. The taut coil in your tummy wound tighter, creating a deep pressure above your bladder. Your thighs quivered, knees feeling like jello as you tried to hold yourself up against the counter.

“Fuck, Kai - fuck-fuck-I’m gonna’ fucking—

With a winded groan, Kai tensed up, and plunged himself as deep as he could go, pulling your hips hard onto his cock. Hot, white euphoria erupted inside of you, filling you up and oozing out the sides of your cunt with each unsparing thrust he gave. Unable to hold it any longer, you arched, screaming towards the mirror. Kai leaned back and pulled out slightly, just enough to watch as your pathetic little cunt clenched through your own orgasm, fluttering desperately around the tip of his dick. He gathered your underwear again and pulled them up, before snapping them down on your ass. The strings of cum that dripped from you seeped into the fabric, sticky and warm.

Kai reached around again, lifting you up by your neck. This time, his cheek pressed against yours, rubbing it like a dog nuzzling its owner. “You’re going to spend the rest of your little gathering feeling that, understood?”

You said nothing and he gripped harder; slight pressure on your windpipe.

“Understood?” Again, nothing and Kai pressed his palm against your throat until you gasped, thrashing your head up and down in a panic. “SAY IT.”

A weird whine came from your throat as you desperately gasped for air. Your pupils dilated. Finally, you croaked: “I-I’m going to feel your c-cum between my… my-legs all night long.”   

The pressure released, and Kai had turned away from you, busy stuffing his heavy, flaccid cock back into his dark jeans. Shakily, you straightened up, pulling your skirts back down where they were intended to sit. Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked up your makeup like he did last time - you could pass as just a tipsy girl who had just smeared her mascara a little.

Once you two were downstairs, you paused at the bottom of the stairs. The party thrived; nobody had noticed you were gone. You heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that now, nobody could pin it against you. No questions, no accusations. Me? Fucking Kai Anderson? Absolutely not, I’d rather die. Gag.

“We’ll have to discuss your constant lying at a later date.” And with that, he was gone. Gone to spread the good word of his weird little fucked up cult, and get more people to campaign for him, or whatever it is he did. You watched him, eyes narrowed, as he manoeuvred through the groups of people. He’d done it again. Motherfucker. You shifted your weight, feeling the sticky mess between your legs as dried into the fabric of your panties.

Coming down off the orgasm was one of the worst feelings; reality set in, and you were painfully reminded that you’d just fucked your sworn enemy. A poster boy of toxic masculinity had just filled you up with his seed. Sickening. A voice from behind jolted you out of your fuming stupor — Winter.

“You should really stop lying to him.”

You barked out a flabbergasted laugh. “That’s what I should stop, Winter? Lying to him?”

“Yeah,” she muttered lowly. “He hates liars.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz / @poltoreveur

[v-albion]

The Foot Recruitment starts young so Donnie would have simple little baubles on him to give out if by some unfortunate circumstance a child ended up crying in front of him, because ew emotions @tmntaucompetition

Children does your parents ever told you to not talk to strangers (even if the stranger looks like family)?

Prev: Open Your Shell to Find Your Wings | Part 4 | Next: Cerise

Masterpost

[manasurge]

Your custom fanspec... tell me about it 👀

:BLUSHYSMILEYCATEMOJI: hehehe well, it is mostly done, it just needs the polishing up for proper posting display with the accompanied drawn diagrams and colour coding (also it's quite old at this point, started working on it a year ago and wanted to work on lore stuff so I put it on hold, so the doodles look kinda bad but oh well alsjdfsdfj). The one main thing I just have to make her Reformed Mordrem minions to display the rest with the little visual diagrams, but I can post what I have done here so far <3 (this is actually the first time I've posted the updated state of this WIP since I last talked about it last year lskjfs. So sorry in advance if some of this seems janky as I haven't gone over it in a hot minute) Note: I also wanna redo the icon thing to be more of an eye instead of the lotus since it makes more sense literally and thematically and to just try to make it look better in general. For context my OC Mourynn/Vallotash (same person kinda) is Mordremoth's (parasitic) Scion in a weird imposter (syndrome) situation (leaving that bit out for now), and her whole thing was inspired by the ??? area in Jahai bluffs with the one quote that inspired her existence "Are you a dragon dreaming that it's a hero? If you were, how would you know?", where the area also matches her colours thematically too, and why her Mesmer abilities all revolve around hallucinations and tapping into the "Dragon of mind/plant, roots/madness, etc." where the spec also evolves slowly over time as she develops, but it does get amped up during LS1 with Scarlet being responsible for kickstarting it (as she brainwashed Mourynn to help cultivate the Dreamthistle into the Toxic Offshoots, and from there with HoT and so on as things got worse and this just evolved into it's own thing, haha). Super abridging explanations (and badly lol) since I feel that part with the Toxic Alliance and those spores were an important step towards this becoming what it is. Also I still need to decide on names for some things, but oh well ;w; ANYWAYS! Mourynn's custom Mesmer elite spec (WIP):

[lambilegs]

hi favie.. i’m like.. really bored and wanna request something.. maybe like 😁 late nights with lee? idk if you’ve written that yet. but maybeeeee staying up late with her.. OKAY BYE ILY!

late nights with lee harker <33

AWEEEE THIS IS SO CUTE HEHE thank you so much for the request angie ilysm!!!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ -> you and lee

I can see her being into playing board games and puzzles together during late nights. like, the two of you just having a movie or some music on and doing something like that. I feel like it'd relax her to put her focus to something on something other than work, and just become absorbed in that. plus, if it's a challenge of sorts, she'll find it entertaining amusing to verse you, especially if you're a sore loser

like you say in the headcanon in your post about lee driving (everyone say thank you angie hehe her headcanons are amazing), I could def see her enjoying aimlessly driving around (this is angie's headcanon!! she's a genius), which with you, involves taking you out in her car, winding the windows down and letting the cool wind get you both chilled and cozy

CUDDLES. I truly believe she is such a touch-starved, clingy girlfriend, and at the end of a long day, or even if she knows the next day she'll get to spend the day at home with you, she'll be super needy and excited to be with you. I feel like during late nights, she'll be especially clingy, and will enjoy being the little spoon, with you on your back and her face buried in your neck, legs entwined with you

sometimes really just needs some peace and quiet, especially after a chaotic day at work. I feel like she'd be happy to parallel play with you, just quietly eating her cereal and doing nothing at her desk while you do your own thing

you'll try to push her to not do work, but when she's particularly sunk into a case, it's hard to convince her to not work on it when home. sometimes, though, you do get upset at this, wanting time with her, and not being able to have it because she's bringing work home. once she realizes you're getting upset, she'll usually set it aside. and once she's holding you, and finally gets out of her work headspace, it'll hit her again just how much she misses you and how badly she wishes she had spent more of the night with you. she'll usually make it up for you by giving you all her attention, and it's a habit she tries to work on

also I can just see you guys goofing off in bed -- like, just being super cute, talking about the most random shit, like asking each other silly hypothetical questions, or talking about funny anecdotes, while raising your legs up and seeing who can last longest

sometimes you guys will share a joint and have some snacks together, which def helps her in unwinding LOL

if all else fails you guys can... you know 👀 if one of y'all is in the mood, you both are one hundred percent down for a night of position after position hehe

[peacockrulz]

Merry Christmas Happy New Years! :)

[peach-coke]

➤ The Boys: Gen V || 1.05 - Welcome to the Monster Club October 13, 2023

[essektheylyss]

Okay but for real, please download Merlin, the Cornell-based bird-logging app. It is so great. It will tell you about birds in your area. It will make you so insufferable on hikes and outings. It doesn't have any comments section so if this site gets nuked do NOT try to find me there but know that that's where I'm hanging. Having a great time birdwatching. Logging the bluejay that bullies my cats. Helping researchers track where birds are for climate change-related population monitoring. 10/10, highly recommend getting a life and doing some silly birdwatching.

[nightwonder7]

Hunters are (in most cases) how survivors perceive certain characters under the influence of drugs. But how likely is it that two people hallucinate the exact same image upon the same individual? Highly unlikely. We see an example of this with Norton and how Orpheus and Alice perceive him so differently. In Go Hunting, he is this large and bulky brute, while in Ashes of Memory, he is this tall figure made of rocks.

This has had me thinking of a potential point of tension. Bear with me, this is kinda long and rambly.

Let's say all the characters end up in this limbo that is the manor after they die during or after the games (with the exception of the deities cause... yeah, they're immortal. So they're just trapped there, forced to play part in these games for all eternity). Anyway! I personally like to think that most of members in the Da Capo gang managed to slowly reconcile with each other, or at the very least come to a mutual agreement, after they ended up in this limbo. Perhaps with the exception of Orpheus.

So when Norton is eventually granted a hunter form, it is the one born from the hallucination of Alice's psyche combined with the drugs. I feel like Alice would disclose this for the sake of honesty and transparency, even if the whole situation is a mystery in itself. But from Norton's point of view, it is Alice's fault he has now ended up like this, and what relationship they managed to build up just unravels.

Yes, he might find it invigorating to be able to let his pent up frustration go during the manor games. But this also leads to the other survivors becoming scared and untrusting of him, and thus ostracizing him. As if his relationship with the others wasn't difficult enough for him to navigate. His world view was molded from the harsh environment he grew up in where it was every man for himself. He's full of rage and despair over the situation, and he's taking it all out on Alice; so much so that the other hunters need to hold him back at times.

Even if it is beyond Alice's control, she still feels guilty over what happened to Norton because he took the form of her hallucination. And now she feels responsible to fix it, or at least find an explanation to why this happened to him. They had slowly managed to heal from the conflict between them during the manor games outside of limbo. But this new conflict just resets all of it. She would try everything in her power to fix their relationship. And perhaps with time, Norton starts to realise that Alice is not to blame for his predicament.

[just-a-madrigal]

A knight in shining armor did nothing for nobody. He never fought. A knight in dented, scraped armor, now that's what you want.

The Captive Curse

Nancy Drew Embroideries

[ruinouss]

@ferinehuntress said:

Aylin's eyes stared down at her hands and watched her fingers tremble. No, she had to make it stop, she had to prevent her trauma from overtaking her mind. She didn't know how to handle trauma, a part of herself denied she had any. Only she could handle a hundred and thirty years of torment, a mortal mind would have perished but she survived! Still, it tormented her thoughts, as she pressed her hands up against her forehead. Her mind wandered to Isobel, her dear Isobel. The reason she didn't break in that prison, each cut, each gash, each stab. She could feel it all over her body, and in the end, they always made her cry out. Her screams of pain came unwillingly and Shar delighted in her nightsong singing. "No, No, you will not!" Aylin whispered threatening the evil goddess that still tormented her mind. She would never be rid of her, and the scars were proof of it. Claws dug into her hair as her wings wrapped around her. She thought she was alone, thought no one would be around. The original intent had been to come down and bathe but now her mind got the best of her and suddenly thrusted into her trauma without explanation. Her heart stammered in her chest as she pulled her legs up against her chest. "Leave me be, you no longer own me. you do not have claim to me anymore!" Aylin threatened Shar, as she didn't realize a few tears ran down her face as she tried to push away the feeling of being trapped.

The night had been unusually still with a silent and palpable sorrow that clung to the air. A heaviness filled Faye's heart and despite her best attempts to remain energized and upbeat, she found herself quiet. The lonely, desperate cries of frogs searching for a partner only added to the weight bearing down on her. She would have been satisfied just sitting by the crackling fire, listening to the others begin to softly snore or sigh as they drifted to sleep but something called to her.

Her mix-matched eyes went skyward to the full glow of the moon. A whispering filled her ears but the words were incomprehensible to her. However, this didn't prevent her from rising to her feet and simply walking, allowing instinct to guide her. Eventually, she moved away until the warm glow of the fire disappeared behind trees, and she found herself near a spring. Moving closer, she spotted a figure and soon recognized the large wings.

"Aylin?" She asked, noting the protective posture she was in. "Aylin, are you ok?" Faye asked, her hushed voice soft and hopefully comforting.

[wayfinderships]

Good morning gamers!! Hope you're all doing well! As for me, I'm doing good! Might work on another attack for Artfight! ^^ Also I figured I should update you all on things I've been watching getting into lately!

First off, I finished L.upin Part 6!! I've been meaning to watch it since I could never make it past Episode 6 on multiple occasions-afjsnfkdj It felt good to finally see L.upin again Since I've loved him for 4, almost 5 years, now <3 Idk what anime to check out next though so I'm happily accepting recommendations!

I also have started watching the Pirates of the C.aribbean movies! Only seen the first one so far-afksnfgjd My favorite part is pointing at the screen during some points and going "OMG JUST LIKE K.INGDOM H.EARTS-"

In terms of games, I've been replaying F.ire E.mblem 3 H.ouses! And also Finished F.ire E.mblem the B.lazing B.lade! L.ucius was my top unit <3 ily pretty blond guys! And in the middle of playing S.acred S.tones

And also playing Y.akuza 0 for the first time! ...though I haven't made it very far in. And lastly I started D.ragon A.ge Origins! I don't got much to say on that one since I'm also not very far in-

[chastillon]

Capri Valentines Ficlet

For @coffeedrgn87! Featuring some slight snarky Laurent and Damen taking them somewhere special. Happy Valentines Day! :) 

@caprivalentine <3 

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you blindfolded” 

Laurent’s cheeks heated while Damen pulled away. 

“And how long have you harbored that particular wish?” 

They were standing in an unremarkable field outside Marlas, and Laurent had been thoroughly sequestered for the afternoon. He had tried interrogating Damen about his sudden desire to take in the nature of the region. Questions rolled off his back and concerns shrugged away as though the demands of their new capital, and nascent kingdom, could be dismissed for an excursion. It was no miracle Laurent had a gap in his schedule. One was forcibly demanded by a particularly commanding king. It was also no miracle that Laurent let his stubborn protests melt away - for all his bluster, he could never say no to that dimple. He still made a show of grousing about their trip until they slowed to a halt in the field. 

It was early summer, and a golden afternoon swallowed the grasses and trees. Damen’s thumb brushed the line of Laurent’s lower lip while he mouthed at his ear. 

“Let me think. When was the last time I saw you blindfolded?” 

“It’s hardly a regular occurrence.” 

“More’s the pity.” 

Damen punctuated himself with a brief kiss to the cheek. One large, warm hand brushed the length of Laurent’s forearm until their fingers were tangled and he was being tugged onwards. 

“You don’t happen to have a Vaskian clan hidden somewhere in the trees? Should I start running?” 

“I’d only catch you again.” 

Damen was leading, so he couldn’t see Laurent smile. 

“Watch your step.” 

Field grass began to transition into soft moss and knobby roots that Damen deftly led them around. Bird cry echoed from above. 

There had been no time in the past few months for a day like this. They had barely left the fortress at Marlas while planning, negotiating, and reforming their kingdoms together. Daily Laurent was accosted by opinionated councilmen and diplomats exercising their right to be a nuisance. Exploring the surrounding wilderness hardly ranked high in Laurent’s priorities. As it happened, the season had just turned from shy spring into a lush, full summer. 

Laurent marked the passage of time - he hadn’t yet known Damen a year, but within months they would pass that milestone. 

An acorn dropped somewhere ahead as Damen led them around more roots. Eventually they veered to the left and a sudden wash of sunlight struck Laurent’s skin. 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t really need to blindfold me for this long.” 

“Maybe, but you love theatrics. Doesn’t it all add to the intrigue?” Plus there’s the distinct benefit of you seeing me in one, Laurent thought.

Damen slowed them to a halt, then moved behind Laurent to remove the silk slip from his eyes. They were standing in a small clearing ringed by saplings and bathed in sunshine. In the center, two feather cushions were arranged upon the ground. They were deep green and set atop the type of threadbare blanket servants used as tablecloths. A thick tome of poetry rested beside them. 

Laurent felt strong arms wind around his waist and someone nosing against his cheek. 

“Happy birthday,” Damen murmured. 

Laurent stood motionless as he struggled to compute the setup. Despite himself, a feeling of awe swept through his body and his heart kicked itself sore. 

“I - nobody knows when my birthday is.” He hadn’t let anyone know, and it had passed unobserved since Auguste died. It wasn’t self-pity. His uncle never celebrated him, and he was content to pass the day in peaceful reclusion. 

Damen dropped a soft kiss to his temple. 

“Well, I have means. And I’m on good terms with a physician who knows you fairly well.” 

Laurent angled his head to look up at his companion for the first time. There was an impossibility in front of him. The only blessed, unforeseen force of nature that could have altered the course of his life so drastically within one year. Not for the first time, his heart felt a vice of love. Their noses bumped. 

“What do you think?” Damen whispered. 

Laurent turned around completely and wrapped himself in the embrace. 

“The theatrics were a good touch.” I think I want to spend the rest of my birthdays with you, like this. Hiding away from politics and reading a good book. Laurent stepped back and smiled. 

“Thank you.” 

[nocentis]

Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands. 

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her. 

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow.  A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it. 

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.