#steam’s descent into madness

[steamcaptain]

Misophonia is seriously one of the most isolating conditions.

[red-rhythm]

A wrong note is like a musical typo.

[stupid-and-cute-are-enough]

for the past 4 days, i've descended into madness over the anon getting turned into an animatronic. behold. 2.6k words @get-rammed i've gone insane

as always, i spew BTS lore in the tags

“Alright, that’s everything,” his Handler announces, finishing the paint on his last claw. They give his hand a satisfied pat. Monty watches as they turn away and begin packing up their things, making idle chatter as they do, offhandedly mentioning that they hope it isn’t too late by the time they actually get to head home. They told him earlier that they’ve got a meeting with the higher-ups once they’re done tonight, and it’s been weighing on him all day.

“I don’t think you should go to that meeting,” he says because he can’t take it any longer.

They pause. “What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t think you should go.” Monty clenches his fists in his lap. It doesn’t feel right. If it was any other lame meeting announced in a staff email, sure, but this isn’t one of those. They were approached in person. No documents, nothing written; just pulled them aside this morning and told them something about enhancing the Handler experience. All of the other Handlers have gone home already, too, and there’s nothing that they could want just his for that meant anything good.

They huff fondly. “I don’t really have a choice, Monty.”

They keep getting ready, a sinking feeling forming in Monty. He tries again to explain that it’s a bad idea again but is gently shut down. His Handler hugs his head on their way out, an act he’d usually eat up and crave more of, but tonight, he feels like rejecting it. It just feels so wrong.

“Sweets, please, don’t go.” He grabs onto their sleeve. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Their face softens. “I hear you, Monty, but I have to. I’ll probably get fired if I don’t.” They laugh a little. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Worst-case scenario, they dump a mountain of work on me. Everything’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, big guy.”

—

They announced a new animatronic the very next day.

The announcement made Monty raise a brow because even with his debut as a Glamrock, as rushed as it was, Fazzbear Entertainment still took their time to milk it for all its worth. Surely, with a brand-new animatronic, they’d pull out all of the theatrics. But, no, management had just called everyone backstage (Monty was grabbed by Chica’s Handler because his still wasn’t here, and it worried him. They always tell him if they’re going to be late) and spilled the news.

It’s another gator, which, geez, thanks, corporate. It’s dressed in actual clothes, unlike the rest of them. It’s a little smaller than Monty, with a sleeker design. Monty eyes the new thing up and down. There’s something… wrong with it. Monty feels it. So does the rest of the band. It stands across from them, eyes too wide, taking in too much yet too little information at the same time. Its hands are clutched together, held tightly to its chest. It’s a shambling mess, really. Barely finished and definitely not ready for crowds. The thing really needs a Handler, which only reminds Monty of the empty space by his side.

It’s different from them. It doesn’t fill its body like it’s supposed to. A feeling of uneasiness washes over the room. Even the other Handlers look a little disturbed.

After the incredibly lackluster introduction, dampened by the uneasiness of everyone in the room, management gives up on pleasantries and snaps at everyone to prepare for opening time. They leave without further explanation, not even telling everyone what the newcomer is supposed to be doing. Everyone takes the chance to leave as fast as possible, abandoning the barely functional animatronic where it stands.

Something in Monty tells him to linger, as disturbed as he is. The sinking feeling he had last night returns tenfold.

It looks too familiar. Cautiously, Monty approaches the thing, eyeing the uniform it wears. He dares not to peek at the nametag displayed proudly on its chest. The animatronic tilts its head up at him slightly, or at least it tries. Monty can hear the inner mechanics going, but it remains frozen. He stands uncomfortably in front of it, unsure of what to do. Everything about it feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong.

He peeks at the nametag, and his world comes crashing down. Surely not. They couldn’t have shoved a whole person, a full consciousness, inside of an animatronic, could they? That technology doesn’t exist, right? Right?

Monty reaches out a shaking hand, staring into the bot’s blank, red eyes. It can’t be. Fazzbear has done some fucked up, shady stuff, but they wouldn’t do this, would they? This has to be too far. It has to. His hand touches their forearm, feeling the all-too-familiar fabric of the Handler uniforms under his finger pads. He meets their eyes, registering the terror behind their blank stare.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, it’s... I, uh-”

“M-” Their voice fries out, and their jaw moves unnaturally. But it’s enough for Monty. That’s their voice. That’s their voice. Monty feels something vile fester inside of him. If he could get sick, he would. That’s them. That’s them in there. They’re in there. That’s his Handler, who he saw just last night, in there.

Their stare is so blank. Their hands are clutched together so tightly. That’s them.

“Oh, sweets…”

His hands slide down their arms to take their hands, snagging his thumb on the cuff of their uniform as he goes. Something there catches his eyes, though, something a human eye would miss, but something he’s been trained to notice. A tiny speckle of blood stained into the fabric. Their blood.

Monty sucks in a breath, his grip on their hands tightening. They were hurt when this was done to them. They bled.

“Let’s go to my green room,” he says. He keeps his voice gentle, but there’s also no room to argue. He doesn’t think they could, anyway. They don’t respond to him or make any kind of movement, so Monty moves for them. Slowly, painfully, he guides them up to his green room, keeping a gentle set of hands on them the entire way. They stumble and would’ve fallen without Monty to catch them. Their tail drags limply behind them. They probably don’t know how to use it for balance yet. The word yet makes Monty’s heart hurt.

He ensures the door stays open as they shuffle into his room, hovering over them until they’ve been cautiously guided to sit on the couch. They don’t need to struggle to stand anymore. Monty doesn’t think he could handle seeing it.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he says. It’s a lie. It’s an awful, horrible lie, but what else is he supposed to say?

They try to speak again, but their voice fries into something that sounds like a quiet cry. Their body begins to tremble, their hands clenching around each other even harder. All tell-tale signs that they’re crying, but they don’t have tears anymore. Instead, their eyes just stare into the wall, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry, sweets,” he says as they weep. He sits beside them on the couch, cautiously wrapping his body around theirs. He doesn’t know if the different sensations will upset them even further, but he also doesn’t know what else to do.

“H-” A billow of steam rolls out of their jaw, rattling their whole system. The sudden movement startles Monty, making him pull away.

“Hey, sweets, you-” Monty glances into their eyes, wide, sightless, terrified, with a slack jaw pouring steam, “you need to calm down. I know it seems like I’m askin’ the impossible of ya, but you’ll overheat yourself, and I dunno how to fix that.”

Their body shudders, unresponsive to their mind. Monty doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to help. He remembers what they did when he first came online and when he was given his new body. They surrounded him with familiar, comforting things, but his Handler doesn’t live here like he does. At least they didn’t. Their greatest comforts are probably far out of Monty’s reach. He searches around his green room, trying to find anything he knows helps them relax.

He spots a fidget they used to love playing with during his noon charging sessions. It should be simple enough; it just needs a pushing and pulling motion. Nothing complicated. But his Handler’s hands don’t react, even as he pries them apart and presses the fidget into their palm. Their fingers remain tense, not even twitching.

“Okay, something easier. I got it. I’ve got you.”

Monty reaches and grabs one of the oversized plushies lying beside the two of them on the couch. It’s big enough for him to comfortably interact with, so it should be good enough for them, too, right? He places the weighted plush in their lap, tucking its arms in so his Handler doesn’t have to do it themself. It looks like they try to wrap their arms around the plush, but the thing just ends up getting knocked to the floor. The failure to get their arms to work only serves to upset his Handler more as their hands begin trembling, the metal of the digits clinking together. 

Monty looks up at them, scared for them. Scared with them. If they can’t function, they’re going to be decommissioned– not fired, not still alive, decommissioned and dead. Gone forever. Their head has turned slightly, staring intensely at something, so Monty follows their line of sight. His gaze lands on their jacket that they accidentally left last night, draped across a chair. Now a little shaky himself, Monty gets up and retrieves it for them.

He realizes once he gets back that it doesn’t fit them anymore. It used to be so big on them, but it doesn’t fit now. Their favorite jacket, the one they wore every day, doesn’t fit anymore. He drapes it over their shoulders, bringing it around them tightly. Their shoulders are bigger under his hands. Wider. Their body is like his own now and so very, very different from what it used to be.

He retakes their hands, kneeling in front of them. He meets their eyes, which stare deep into whatever kind of soul he has.

“Look at me, Chere,” he says, squeezing their hands, trying to ground them. He’d tell them to breathe with him, but they can’t anymore, and he doesn’t know if that’ll help or upset them. “I’ve got you. I promise. I won’t ever, ever let anything else happen to you. I promise.”

Their hands squeeze his own, and Monty lets out his own version of a sigh of relief. The shaking in their limbs begins to die down, the steam eventually coming to an end. He smiles at them, keeping his hold on their hands solid. He praises them softly, rubbing their knuckles.

Their eyes meet his properly, and Monty can see the hurt and the fear in their eyes. They shift, jaw moving experimentally.

“I… can’t breathe,” they say.

Monty’s heart breaks for them. They try to shift, try to grab onto their jacket and pull it tighter around them, but their limbs won’t cooperate, and the metal of their fingers slips against the satin material.

“Here, you gotta… you gotta grip with the pads of your fingers. Like this,” Monty says, taking hold of their hands and guiding their fingers to do so. A shudder runs through their system, getting their hands to tighten and pull, if only slightly.

Monty steps back to take another look at the design of their new body. A gator, like him. Their hair is soft and synthetic, with a little product to keep it sleek, so at least that wasn’t taken from them. In a bitter-sweet kind of way, Monty can imagine helping them style their hair in the morning when the dust settles. But Monty still has trouble adjusting to his mohawk, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for them right now. How long it’ll take for that dust to settle. They’re smaller than him. Sleeker. A little more compact and able to fit into tighter spaces. Probably equipped with the same processing power Monty has, and he prays to whatever is out there, none of the guardrails. Overall, they’re… built to work. They were hurt, maybe even killed, their body broken, disposed of, and shoved into this body to work. To work! They never get to go home again; they never get to have a life outside of the Pizzaplex ever again, all so Fazzbear Entertainment could have another obedient little worker.

Monty shoves down his anger. They don’t need that right now. Instead, he turns his energy to muster up the best smile he can, affirming the correct motions with their hands.

“There you go, you’ve got it.” His smile wavers a little at their silence. 

They stare at their hands, their new, robotic, alien hands. Hands that don’t listen when they tell them to move. A body that doesn’t listen. They grip around the fabric of their jacket, feeling, in a way, the mechanics whirr in their arms. But they don’t feel the silky fabric anywhere but their finger pads. They feel the warmth of Monty in front of them, holding onto them, but only in broad strokes. It’s not like skin. It’ll never be like skin. There’s no more blood, only coolant (they feel so cold), no nerves, no organs. No lungs. Those things are still there, in a way, in a robotic sense.

All of the essential bits keeping their body moving are still there. But it’s not their body. Flashes of blood and mutilation streak across their vision the longer they stare. They have claws now. And a snout. And a tail. They always thought it’d be kind of cool to have a tail, who doesn’t, but not like this. They don’t want this. They want to go home and lay in bed and fall asleep and hope that this is some god-awful dream. They want to fight with their ID at the stupid maintenance tunnel exit, and drive home tired, and wake up five hours later to come to work and do it all over again. 

“... sweets?”

They look up to Monty, sight still a little unclear. He looks worried. He looks scared. They don’t think they’ve ever seen him scared. He tentatively takes their hands, prying the fabric away before they rip something.

They stay there, Monty kneeling, Handler sitting, staring at each other. Lost, scared, confused. Neither quite sure what to say.

“I wanna go home,” they eventually settle on. They can see the resolve in Monty crack.

“I know, sweets.” He rubs their knuckles again. They’re disturbed by how little they can feel of it. “I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

They want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but the words don’t come to them. So, instead, they sit in silence. Awful, dreadful silence.

Eventually, Monty stands, still holding their hands in his. “You’ve gotta be getting… tired,” he murmurs. “Here, I’ll show you how to get charged.”

His Handler know how. They’ve helped Monty settle in to get charged a million times. But it’s different now. They need to charge. Their battery isn’t running low, they don’t think anyway, but the emotional drain is enough for them to take the carefully offered out. Monty gets them set up, gently explaining things as he goes, like what it’s going to feel like at first and how entering standby will kind of feel like sleeping (at least, what he’s pretty sure sleeping feels like). When everything is said and done, and Monty is sure they’ll be out for a while, he turns to eye the big door that separates his room from the rest of the Pizzaplex.

His curtains are closed, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. For a long time.

[gotham-daydreams]

I'd love to see the Batfam reaction if they were to actually see what went down in the park. Tim checking security cameras to assess the damage and sees dick and reader yelling at each other. Dick would get so much shit and I can't wait for chapter four to see their descent into madness<3 you did great, lovely, lovely chapter as always.

If they saw it then you know someone would definitely try to rush in and do some damage control (and 100% fail depending on where in the argument they decide to cut in/run into Dick and the Reader arguing). Tim would see it from the cameras, the others would just straight up hear it and or are just more likely to run into the whole thing- and definitely cursing Dick out all the while, praying that he does what everyone (even himself) wants him to do- and that's to shut his mouth and stop talking, LMAO

Even then, some might try to listen (especially when the Reader mentions certain things... like where they've been this entire time, how they've been hurt, etc), but cut in at some point when they are just baffled and taken aback like Dick.

Regardless, more detail and such on their reactions is under the cut :]

Bruce would be upset (who, in the family, isn't at this point...), and definitely try to cut things short and do some kind of damage control. Though depending on how much he hears or when he just so happens to overhear the two yelling at each other - I think he would stay to listen to what the Reader is saying before eventually going down to 'help'. Does it work? Probably not, I mean... what's more terrifying then seeing the Bat himself just appear out of thin air and essentially try to get the both of you to shut up? Especially since, again, depending on what he hears and or when he cuts in, Bruce might even try to interrogate the Reader on some things they said which... considering how things go in the chapter... yeah, the Reader definitely isn't in the mood to even entertain his questions. Not to mention that Bruce is one of the people who want to get the Reader home as soon as possible, so that's just extra worse- but as shown at the end of Pt.2 of Chapter 3, he can be reasoned with to some degree.

Damian would try to interrupt as soon as he even hears what's going on. Really, Bruce would be the only one who would be able to stop him (since they were traveling as a pair for that night), but that doesn't mean he won't continue to try. He definitely would have the "If Grayson doesn't shut up then I'll shup him up for him" mentality, especially if he very quickly catches on how what Dick is doing and saying is clearly having a negative impact on you - the only person he wants to hang around at the moment.

Jason would want to strangle Dick, and just to get him to stop, he just might. Though, you being there does stop him... until you keep screaming at Dick and he's even more convinced that he should just knock out Dick while he's at it. Just like Damian he would most likely try to intervene as soon as he even hears shouting and just knows that Dick is fucking everything up- but similar to Bruce, if and when certain things are said, he might hesitate or pause just to hear what the Reader has to say or just if what the Reader said caught him off guard. However, it mostly likely just makes him want to cut things off even more, but definitely just so that he can interrogate the reader over what he heard. Jason also just wants to bring the Reader home, but, in that moment he might just let them have a night before trying anything. If anyone knows when to give someone time to blow off some steam, especially after something like that? It's definitely going to be Jason.

As you said, Tim is definitely more likely to come across the whole thing on the cameras, and he feels similar to Jason and just wants to strangle Dick to make him shut up. I can see him trying to rush over to stop things, but does he do a very poor job at it? Absolutely. (Which... isn't saying much since honestly, in reality, anyone trying to intervene and such definitely just makes things worse, especially for the reader, even if they didn't mean to (just like Dick himself at the start of the park scene).) Man is not only lowkey stuck in a delusion at the moment, but also has said delusion shattered as he tries to cool things off- and before anyone knows it, hell, he might even get wrapped into things as a failed mediator of the situation. Similar to Dick, the more he scrambles and tries to reel things back, the more he fails and the worse the situation gets. Eventually, he ends up similar to Dick, and before they both know it, they're in the park by themselves, with you taking your leave- even if Tim definitely tries to chase after you which... goes about as well as you'd think.

Cassandra being the impulsive queen she is, and with nobody in the immediate vicinity to stop her, definitely just bodies Dick. Straight up. Body slam and all. Is it absolutely terrifying to see, especially when in the middle of an argument, crying your eyes out, and having the (arguably) worst night of your entire life? 100%. But is it appreciate to some extent until you realize "oh shit there's two of them now" and that, unlike Dick, Cassandra is very adamant about bringing you home no matter what? Maybe, but that's not here nor that. Regardless, Cassandra is pissed off, and unlike the end of the chapter, is definitely not afraid to do what she wanted since Bruce isn't around to say or do anything about it yet. Does it help in the long run? Not even a little, but hey, at least it's a little satisfying before reality sets in.

Maybe she'd try to drag Dick away, but she also doesn't want to lose track of you, or even let you out of her sight again, so that's not happening. Again, it's nice and all until she tries to drag you home.

Stephanie would also try to set in and cool things off even if she definitely feels more awkward about it, and kind of like Tim, would sort of end up being mixed into the argument- but I feel she would be more on the quiet side once that happens because, yeah, she feels bad. Like Dick, she recognizes that they kind of deserve everything the Reader is saying, and like Jason, Dick, and sort of like Bruce (minus the convincing part), Stephanie just lets the Reader go home once everything is said and done. Sure, she'd try to drag Dick away, but considering when that happens during the argument, that may be more difficult to do since at some point, Dick also loses himself within the hurtful words. She doesn't get put into a similar state like Dick, but feels equally awful, and kind of awkward. Especially since, well, she doesn't know what to do.

Barbara just straight up tries to drag Dick away no matter where in the argument she tries to interject. She's pissed, but doesn't want Dick and his big mouth to make things any worse than they already are, so she just rolls up to you two and drags him off no matter how upset he is too. However- well, she is most likely to see that from the cameras as well, and honestly hates watching it. Not because the Reader is wrong, but because they're right... though when they mention being hurt and such, that definitely catches her attention and she starts doing light research when they mention they 'could' be put into a hospital and nobody would come by or visit them. What she finds just makes her more upset. However, even if she didn't reach that point, still. Similar to Tim, when she sees what's going on in the cameras she tries to intervene. Rather that be by sending someone over, or just heading there herself (even if it is more likely to be the former).

However, I would also like to mention that most of them (aside from Tim, Cass, and maybe Damian (BIG maybe though)) actually wouldn't recognize the reader at first glance, and not only would have to do a double take, but it would cause Dick having to say the Reader's name for the rest of them to even know who Dick is talking to. Does that make things worse for them? Probably, and may even make some of their behavior more 'aggressive' or prominent because, well, they didn't even recognize the Reader right away, and it extra sucks since- y'know. They were even out in the first place to look for the Reader. So you know it definitely feels good knowing that you didn't even know who the person you were originally searching for even looked like until you notice that one of you is yelling at them- and doesn't feel awful at all.

Even then, as sort of 'hinted' at in Chapter 3, Stephanie and Barbara aren't full yanderes or even super deep into their development in that regard, so their reactions are bound to be more sensible, tame, and sane when it comes to the others and their own reactions and behaviors. But it definitely won't stay like that for long :]

Anyway, I hope this answered your question! And if you or anyone else needs any clarification on certain things, then please feel free to end in an ask!

[afro-hispwriter]

A Betrayal No More(final)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Velaryon!reader

Summary- Aemond has been thrown into the dungeons just hours after your death, but the blacks need Aemond and Aemond needs you. 

Warnings- angst ending with fluff, mentions of torture, murder, battle of the gullet comes wayy faster than it actually does lol, dragon death

Part 3 of the Betrayal mini-series 1 2

Wc-3.3k+

-

Aemond was thrown into the dungeons along with Criston. They quickly found out that wasn't a wise idea since it ended up with Aemond almost choking the man out. 

He's not sure how long he'd been down there but he's been questioned a lot. But Criston on the other hand has been tortured, daily. He heard his screams of pain, and it made Aemond cringe. That man was the closest thing to a father he ever had but he was also the same man who killed the love of his life in front of him, however many days it's been since. 

Aemond thought they were going to starve him out but those thoughts were soon erased when Daemon Targaryen himself. His uncle, and father of his late love, came down and opened his cell door. Daemon glared harshly at his nephew, tightening his jaw and fist.

"Come boy." He demands but Aemond doesn't move, just sits there and looks at him wearily. "A hot bath and food has been prepared for you." Aemond cocks his head to the side before standing up.

"Preparing me for my execution?" 

"Every day I have the urge to come down here and cut your head off and send it to your family. But the queen says if it's true you are here to bend the knee, we need you." Daemon steps out of the way but Aemond still hesitates. "We don't have all day." 

"Hmm, lead the way." Aemond has only been to Dragon Stone maybe less than a handful of times. Daemon started his descent to the stairs with Aemond in tow. 

"Letting your daughter's killer out Daemon?" Gasps out Cristion making both men stop. 

"I guess you have gone mad Criston, you will never know freedom again." Daemon spits out and continued his way up the stairs. 

Aemond kept space between him and his uncle. There was still a chance this was all a trick and he was being led to his execution. But no. Daemon opened the door and the hot steam hit them both in the face. 

"Enjoy," Daemon says and Aemond walks through and Daemon shuts the door. A pretty servant girl appeared.

"Would you like assistance with bathing my prince?" She asks and Aemond shakes his head no. She nods and gives a bow before leaving. Once Aemond knew he was alone he started discarding the clothes he had on. He still had dried blood on his hands. Her blood. It made him sick to his stomach. 

Aemond settled into the water and sighed deeply. The warmth was very welcoming after being in a cold cell for days.

He wasn't sure how long he was in there but his fingers started to prune and the water started going cold. He scrubbed his skin quickly, dirt and mud from the cells had already turned the water dark and the blood made it worse.

His hair was a lost cause. He could wash out the gunk but it would be a frizzy mess. He stepped out of the bath cautiously and grabbed the towel. He dried himself off and the cold air made him shiver. His wet hair not helping so he tied it up in a low bun. 

The clothes given were a simple white tunic and a pair of pants, his boots from before would have to do. 

Aemond stepped out of the room refreshed. A guard in the hall came up to him.

"The Queen has asked for your presence." He says and Aemond gives a nod. They both walk to the map room where the other half of his family is. 

Baela noticed him first, she had a hard glare on her face. Rhaenys saw him but kept her face neutral, demoted of any emotion. Rhaena was absent. Luke and Rhaenyra stood together, while Jace stood off to the side fists clenched and fresh tear streaks on his face. 

Daemon's hand was tightly gripped on his sword. He also seemed to have taken a bath but his red fists were clear as day.

"We have a meal for you, brother," Rhaenyra says and Aemond says the plate of hot food with a cup of wine. He slowly walked down the steps, one by one until he was behind the chair. The smell enticed him so much, he pushed the chair back and sat in it. Digging into the food greedily. 

They watched him eat, everyone in that room had mixed emotions about him. Some found him guilty, some blamed him, others knew they needed him. 

"Vermithor was last confirmed to be seen crossing the Stepstones and there are reports they saw him carrying something." Aemond stopped eating at the mention of the dragon. 

"Any guesses as to where he is going?" 

"Valyria," Luke says and Aemond sees others in the room sigh or shake their heads. "Maybe Vermithor knows something we don't."

"He's never been to Valyria, none of our dragons have Luke," Jace says.

"But he's still a dragon, that's where his and our ancestors originated." 

"That doesn't explain why he would take Y/n there." Aemond snaps at the boy and Rhaenyra grabs Luke’s hand. "After this is done, I'm going to look for them." 

"What makes you think you're leaving?" Daemon asks and he takes a step closer Aemomd drops his spoon and sits back. 

"You have me and Vhagar now, you can have throne by lunch." Aemond took a bite of his food again.

"We kept you in the dungeons too long. Your grandfather has gotten the support of the Triacrhy and they attacked the Velaryon fleet at the Gullet. 

"You need me to sort it out?" Aemond asks and he downs the wine.

"You and Jace will fly out, using force only if necessary." Rhaenyra and Aemond cracked his knuckles and pushed the chair back.

"Let's go now." He started walking away, not knowing where he would go. But he didn't want to be there.

"Aemond stop," Rhaenyra says and he stops. "You must rest, Daemon is going to take Harrenhall." 

"I will rest when this is over." 

-

Your eyes shot open and the air rushed back into your lungs giving you a horrible spike of pain. You were rushed with cold then you were burning.

"You're okay Lady Y/n." The voice was loud but it was also so sweet and low. You looked around but you could only see the orange glow of fire and you were clearly in a rock structure. A soft pair of hands wrapped themselves around your back and they slowly helped you sit up. The cloth covering your breasts fell in your lap but you made no effort to grab it again. 

You turned your head slowly to meet with a woman. Her hazel eyes pierced through yours. Her dark hair was shining in the light. 

Your heart started racing and you felt across your body when you felt the scars. One look down and the flashes of the blade going in and out of your abdomen. You remembered the flooding of blood in your mouth and... Aemond.

"Ae-." Your voice barely came out, a tiny squeak at best.

"Rest your voice, my lady, your prince is safe." The woman says and walks away and bends down to grab something. She stands back up and she has clothes in her arms. "Your family needs you." She held her hand out to you and you shakily grab it. She helps you plant your feet on the cold floor and your legs shake, the last piece of cloth falling leaving you naked. "Hold onto the table." 

You slowly turned around and held onto the stone slab. Her hands touched your back and she rubbed her finger along the scars.

"They will heal nicely."

"H-How am I alive?" You ask lowly, she smiles behind you.

"Thank your dragon and the Lord of Light, my lady." 

-

You've heard of the Lord of Light, but you didn't believe in him. You didn't even believe in the Seven. But as you walked through the temple with Seraphine, the priestess who brought you back, this lord of light seemed to be even more real. 

Seraphine gave you a pair of pants and a black long tunic. Your hair burnt at the edges, ultimately damaging some of your hair. 

"Where is Vermithor?" You were still trying to find your voice.

"He has taken the liberty and made a home in a field feeding on cows." There were two guards standing post in front of the door. One nod from Seraphine and they opened the doors. The bright lights outside made you stumble. A servant of the temple appeared and he held a pouch of food and a canteen of water. “May I ask you something?” 

You nodded.

“What did you see when you passed?” She asks, almost desperately but keeping calm. 

“Nothing. I saw nothing.” You say and she lets out a quick sigh.

"May the Lord of Light guide you" Seraphine says. You took the pouch from the servant and nodded at them.

"Thank you." You say to both Seraphine and the servant, and maybe to R'hollor himself. 

-

Volantis, that is where you ended up. That is where Vermithor brought you, which confused you. Vermithor has no history of ever being near here, so how did he know to come here?

But the dragon wasn't a hard miss. He lay comfortably in the field. The people of Volantis had started huddling up and pointing at the beast. Some had never seen a dragon or it's been too long. You pushed past them and with one look at your hair and your approach to the dragon, they all backed off and whispered.

"Who is she?"

"Lady Y/n Targaryen? That is her dragon up there."

"But she's supposed to be dead, killed by her lover."

"That has to be Daemon Targaryens eldest."

Vermithor raised his head when he noticed you and raised it to his full height. He then lowered his neck so he could greet you. You reached up and the second you touched his warm, scaly skin you smiled. Smiled hard, you weren't sure how long you had been dead but it felt great.

"I am in debt to you." Vermithor gave a small growl of acknowledgment, the large dragon then showed you his neck so you had access to the ropes of his saddles. "Take me home."

-

Aemond stood in her bedroom. Memories of the two flooded him. The amount of times he has snuck in here and the times he almost got caught. Her bed was still made since the last time she was there.

It was hard to believe barley a week ago she was begging him to join her. Barley a week since he watched the life leave her eyes the next day.

"Daemon's taken Harrenhall." Jace's voice came from behind him. Aemond turned around to see his nephew in his riding gear and armor. Aemond walks towards him, hair swaying behind him to bump into the boy in front of him. Jace's fists clenched then he relaxed. "I know what your intentions are." Aemond stopped walking. "She wouldn't want you to do that, uncle."

"That is not of your concern, I will look for her regardless of where I am." 

-

Vhagar is the largest dragon alive. She is a hardened warrior. But that doesn't mean she isn't an easy target for ships, as her old age has made her slower and less agile. Her dragon fire is devastating but it won't do anything if she is shot out of the sky. 

Jace and Vermax focused more on the actual people on the ships rather than destroying the ships. Leaving that to Aemond and Vhagar.

Everything was going well until Aemond witnessed Vermax get caught in a grapple and yanked down. No doubt the dragon's death was immediate. Jace leapt off and crashed into the water and Aemond knew his nephew was in trouble. Vhagar dove and the men on the ships brought their crossbows out.

But before Aemond could yell the word 'Dracarys'. Another dragon swooped in under him and instantly laid waste to the ships. It forced Aemond to pull Vhagars reigns and urge her to stop.

Anyone familiar with any of the dragons can recognize the Bronze Fury. But Aemond was more than familiar with the Bronze Fury. Aemond leaned over Vhagar to catch a glimpse at the dragon flying below. 

The silver hair stood out against everything else. 

Aemond felt his heart skip multiple beats. He blocked out all the chaos, Vhagar maneuvering herself around spears. He is no longer worried about Jace. Aemond gripped the reigns and leaned forward.

"Pikagon(follow), Vhagar!" The dragon dipped down and followed behind Vermithor. Aemond was intent on getting a look at the rider. 

The combination of Vhagar and Vermithor fire destroyed the majority of the fleet. Less than 15 ships remained before white flags were waved and the retreat began. 

Aemond could barely focus, his sole attention on Vermithor. But then the dragon changed direction and flew away. Aemond, with no hesitation, followed. 

Vermithor Landed on a sandbank and Vhagar circled until she landed as well. The dragons stood opposite of each other. Aemond shakily made his way down until his boots hit the sand. The person on Vermithor made the same action. 

Aemond walked forward a few steps and he saw you. He saw you from that great distance. His legs were moving before he could register it. 

"Aemond!" He heard his name come from your voice and it spurred him faster. You had started running too, but Aemonds long legs had him reach you much quicker. You crashed into him but he held himself so he only stumbled. He grabbed your arms and looked at you. He looked you up and down. 

"H-How? I watched you die." Aemond's eye started to gloss and suddenly his eyepatch was growing irritating. You shakily brought your hands to his face and caressed his cheek with your thumb. 

"Vermithor took me to Volantis and a red priestess brought me back. The Lord of Light brought me back." 

For a moment Aemond believed he died and just hasn't realized it. But it all felt too real. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He pressed his forehead against yours and let the tears fall freely, the same tears falling from his other eye started to accumulate in his eyepatch. 

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have just left with you the first time."

"There was no way we could have known, but I'm back, and hopefully for a long time." Aemond sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled backward. You grabbed his arms tightly and his knees buckled so he landed on them. You went down with him and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders.

Aemond laid the side of his head on your chest so he could feel and listen to your heartbeat. He takes continuous deep breaths and you cradle the back of his head. Your fingers then unbuckled his eyepatch and you tossed it into the sand. 

"Aemond." He looks up, his violet eye matching yours. The sapphire shining. "I'm here, I'm okay." He swallowed harshly and looked around. 

No enemies to be seen. Just your dragons on opposite sides of the sand bank and the burning of ships in the distance.

No one was there to take you away from him again. 

Aemond kisses you like he never did before. He wrapped his arms securely around your body and pulled you onto his lap. 

He grabbed at your clothes and pinched the material tightly. He kissed you as if his life depended on it. But it was all too much for you and you pulled pack. He pushed his face into your neck, his cold nose making you shudder. His thin lips pressed against your neck, followed by multiple pecks along the skin. 

"Aemond no." He now laid sloppy wet kisses. "I smell of dragon and death." 

"Don't care."

'Cough, Cough'

Aemond pushed you to the side and scrambled to his feet. Unsheathing his sword in the process.

Jace shook his hair and hacked up more salt water. 

"Jace." You whisper and scramble up but this time running to him. "Jace!" 

He looked up from the sand to see your figure and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Y/n?" You collapsed to your knees and pulled him in. "B-But you're- am I?"

"No, you're not. I'm here Jace, I'm alive." He was trying to take in the information but exhaustion came over him and he slumped in your arms. Aemond walked up behind you to inspect his nephew.

“We need to get him back to Dragonstone.” 

-

Word reached Daemon in Harrenhall as soon as possible when the Bronze Fury was seen at the Gullet. He was back on Caraxes immediately to fly out. Velaryon and Triarchy ships were still ablaze but no sight of any dragons. The next best place would be back to Dragonstone. 

And he was right. Daemon sees Vermithor being tended to by the dragon keepers. He landed Caraxes and walked in through one of the many entrances to the castle.

He passed servants on his way to the council room, helmet clenched in his fist. They stared at him or their eyes would widen at the sight of him. Two guards at the door pushed it open for him. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and they grew silent. 

His eyes couldn’t help but trickle over to the bundle of silver hair. Baela and Rhaena stood there hugging you. Daemon’s hand went weak and the helmet clattered to the ground loudly.

You split from your sisters and smiled at Daemon.

“Father.” Daemon didn’t move from his spot when you reached him. He grabbed you and pulled you in tightly. 

“I- how? When?” He wanted to ask so many questions but you shook your head. 

“I'm here, that's all that matters.” Daemon stayed silent and held you tighter. 

-

Criston’s execution was minutes after the reunion. Death by dragon. Baby dragons, juvenile dragons. It was a horrifying watch.

-

“Do you think the red god exists?” You ask Aemond as he gently drags his finger along the healing puncture marks. 

“There are many gods.” You lean against his chest, the water in the tub sloshing. 

“Have you read about this one?” 

“There isn’t much in the library.” He kissed the side of your head and you tilted your head back. 

“And there has never been a resurrection recorded.” Aemond tensed up. 

“We don’t even know if you were actually dead, you could have passed out and I simply missed it.” 

“You watched me die,  Aemond. You saw me dead.” Aemond rolled his head and shook it side to side. “I saw nothing, the whole time there was nothing. No dream, no god to take me someplace, none of our ancestors talked to me. It was just nothing.” You started to cry and grasped the edges of the tub. Aemond wrapped his arm securely around you and cradled you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” 

It wasn’t until you stopped crying that you could speak clearly again. You stared at the candle, the fire flickering back and forth.

“Aemond?”

“Hmm.”

“I want to give my thanks to this, god.” Aemond sighed but pressed his cheek onto the top of your head. He refused to fight about something like this. 

“Whatever you need, I am here.” The rumble coming from his chest when he spoke was comforting. 

“Avy jorrāelan(I love you).” You say and kiss his bicep. “He is the one who brought me back to you.” 

-

A/n- holy fuck, two fucking years later lol

[mya-valentine]

Just had a hilarious thought.

Can I have a funny scenario with the League doing a spicy/toughness contest with a batch of super spicy ramen. And for bonus hilarity, Kurogiri going to clean up the pot of ramen, and discovering that while everyone was in pain, Shigaraki’s sweet little cousin, had gone behind their backs and eaten the whole pot. (She was able to survive the spice due to being half-Thailand descent. XD)

Scenario: Spicy Ramen Challenge with the League of Villains

Setting: The League of Villains’ hideout. The group is gathered around a table, where a large, steaming pot of ramen sits. It looks innocent enough, but this is no ordinary ramen. It’s been infused with the world’s spiciest peppers—a concoction that could send even the toughest villain to their knees. Today, the League is hosting a spicy ramen contest to see who can handle the heat.

Dabi, Toga, Twice, Spinner, and Shigaraki. Kurogiri stands to the side, watching the madness unfold, shaking his head in quiet disapproval. In the background, Shigaraki’s sweet cousin, who often hangs around the League, watches with innocent curiosity.

Dabi: grinning “Come on, this isn’t going to be so bad. It’s just noodles, right? I’ve been through worse.”

Toga: giggling “I can’t wait to see all of you cry! I love spicy stuff!”

Shigaraki: scratching his neck “Tch, let’s just get this over with. How bad can it be?”

Twice: “It’s a terrible idea! It’s a great idea! Let’s burn our mouths!”

Spinner: eyeing the pot warily “I dunno, guys. This smells… dangerous.”

The challenge begins. Each villain grabs a bowl of the spicy ramen and starts eating, trying to look tough in front of the others. The first few bites go down fine, but soon, the heat starts creeping in. Fast.

Dabi: eyes wide, sweat forming on his forehead “Oh. Oh no. This is worse than being set on fire.”

Toga: fanning her mouth “It burns! But it’s so good! But it burns!!”

Twice: “I can’t feel my tongue! I CAN feel my tongue! It’s on fire!”

Shigaraki: wheezing “Whose idea was this…? I’m going to decay whoever made this ramen…”

Spinner: literally turning green “I’m dying. This is it. I’m not gonna make it…”

The group starts chugging water, milk, and anything else they can find, desperately trying to cool their mouths. Tears stream down their faces, and even Dabi, who thought he could handle the heat, looks like he’s ready to pass out. Toga is laughing hysterically while also crying, and Twice is stuck in a loop of groaning and cheering himself on.

Kurogiri: shaking his head “Fools, the lot of you. I warned you.”

After what feels like an eternity, the group finally gives up. They collapse on the couches, holding their stomachs and groaning in pain. The pot of ramen is barely touched, still mostly full.

Shigaraki: gasping for breath “Who... in their right mind… eats this stuff?”

Toga: giggling weakly “We’re supposed to be villains, and we got taken down by noodles.”

Dabi: groaning “This was a bad idea.”

Kurogiri walks over to clean up, shaking his head at the mess. He grabs the pot, about to throw out the leftover ramen when he freezes. The pot is… empty? Completely clean, like it’s been licked dry.

Kurogiri: confused “What on earth…”

That’s when Shigaraki’s sweet little cousin walks in, licking her lips and looking perfectly fine. She had been quietly observing the entire time, and while the League was distracted by their suffering, she had snuck behind them and eaten the entire pot of super-spicy ramen.

Shigaraki’s Cousin: innocent smile “That was really good! Do you guys have any more?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone stares at her in disbelief.

Dabi: still clutching his stomach “Wait… you ate… the whole thing?!”

Toga: wide-eyed “How are you still alive?!”

Twice: “She’s a monster! She’s incredible! I’m scared!”

Shigaraki: speechless, trying to process what just happened “How…?”

Kurogiri: in utter disbelief “That ramen was enough to incapacitate all of you… and she ate the entire pot?!”

Shigaraki’s Cousin: cheerfully “Oh, this wasn’t that spicy! My mom’s from Thailand, so I’m used to eating stuff way hotter than this. You guys are just weak.”

The League of Villains, some of the most dangerous people in society, sit there in stunned silence, having been outclassed in a spicy ramen contest by Shigaraki’s sweet little cousin.

Shigaraki: rubbing his temples “I don’t know what’s worse… the fact that we lost to noodles, or that we got shown up by my cousin.”

Dabi: still in shock “I’m never eating spicy food again.”

Toga: laughing through the pain “We’re the real villains, and we couldn’t even handle ramen!”

And from that day on, whenever anyone in the League mentioned spicy food, they’d all wince in unison, remembering the day Shigaraki’s cousin effortlessly ate the ramen that almost killed them.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[hoaxghost]

what is mouthwashing (the game), I know I could look it up but I’m not confident in the results being moreso about the game than the dental care and I feel like asking someone who wants to talk about it would be a good place to start (please I keep seeing art of this game I’m confused what’s happening)

It's a psychological horror game set on board of a crashed freighter space ship. On board, the five crew members are faced with dwindling food supplies as they fend off the slow descent into madness. With the captain unresponsive after the crash, you play as co-pilot Jimmy who has to take over responsibility for the crew's well being.

I'll leave the rest as a surprise cause I highly recommend playing it! Here's the steam page if you want to watch the trailer and see footage of the game

But also here is a free game about fish which includes a sequel..prequel? to the game which was released around a year ago.

[a-very-bored-blogger]

ᴴᵉˡᵖ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᴬᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᴶᵒⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵀᵃˢᵏᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ?! (𝗔 𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗖 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗢𝗗 𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗰) (prologue)

Pairings: price, soap, gaz, ghost x gn!reader Summary: Imagine you, a tired person who decides to blow off some steam, when a certain dark and gritty dating simulator catches your eye. Overall, as you played through the game, everything is exactly like your typical dating simulator. The game is heavily realistic...maybe a bit too realistic, right?

Tags: ddlc inspired madness, romance, pining, slow descent to madness, dark taskforce x reader, god this seemed like a fun idea Notes: -In-game will look like this!-

-You never asked for this. To be corned in a room full of 4 buff and insanely hot men seemed all too funny to come true- the dialogue from the cute pink box reads out as you skim through the text in your mind. You never asked to be this desperate but work has been tiring lately. Office drama, annoying workmates, funny bosses, the usual. Late hours also meant a fucked up sleep schedule and not the best selection when it comes to a good love life. All the people on Tinder available at night have been mostly creeps or gym alphas.

So eventually, one day you caved in. You went inside the video game store, hoping some dose of dating simulators would fix you right up. It's only a temporary situation for now, but it shall do the trick. Scrolling through a bunch of the games after 5 different ripoffs of 'Obey Me' passed by, the most adorable, yet funniest-looking pink screen popped up on the title. The page featured 4 men in military uniforms, all drawn in a certain art style to be attractive and all, standing on a cute pink background, with the title reading, Help! I've Accidentally Joined a Taskforce?!You squinted your eyes, and shook your head to believe the abnormality you were witnessing because, well who would ever say no to hot military men right? You did the world a favor, and succumbed to capitalism once again, paying $20 for said game.

The game file is unusually large (a whole 13GB for a dating sim!). Users have left several comments on the review box saying that the game was found to be highly realistic, with some even saying that the models were designed with a different AI attached to them. This made you all the more curious to experience the game yourself. But you were not expecting what was to come. The game screen loaded in, a pink fluffy background, vibrant and warm. White stripes and timid white dots painted the background, with purple gradation splattered all over. Then, a dialogue box popped up. -What's this you ask?! Welcome, to your new life- The text in the small cute pink box reads out. Background music begins to play, and you click on the spacebar once again. -Are you ready to meet...god knows who I can't even begin to describe who these people are! But first, what can we call you?!- the dialogue shows once again. You pondered for a second, before typing it down. "(y/n)."

[some-triangles]

I've now played through Nine Sols twice and have gotten both endings! That means it's time to post

So, hilariously, I got the true ending first! The old woman doesn't have a third phase if you go for the normal ending, which explains why it felt so brutal I had to post about it if you do what I did. I guess the creators of the game thought you would get through your first go-round w/o finding everything, get the normal ending, and then go back to scrape and get the true ending, for which you've been prepared by beating Eigong previously. But it's a metroidvania, finding all the hidden stuff is the point. So of course I went hard mode first.

None of that is nearly as interesting as the endings themselves, though! Potted summary of Nine Sols plot: the cat furries (Han) of Peilang (China) accidentally invented the deadly Tianhuo virus (COVID) while trying to find the cure for death. So they blasted an entire island into space, taking everyone who could afford to come, and put them all in suspended animation while scientists kept looking for a cure. Why space? Because the suspended animation/paradise simulation machine requires such incredible computational power to run that they need a bunch of organic brains to do it. Luckily their spy satellite spotted a planet (Earth [Formosa]) full of primitive apemen (Formosan native peoples) whose virus-free brains would be perfect for the project.

So they kidnap a bunch of humans and bring them to their space island, which is using our sun for power, causing climate change (climate change) on earth. The humans live in a simulated primitive village and send off a bunch of kids to go "live with the gods" every year, thus keeping the simulation program supplied with fresh brains. This goes on for hundreds of years. Meanwhile the scientists come up with a COVID vaccine which turns the cat furries who take it into immortal, hivebrained mutants.

You play one of the 10 people who are responsible for this whole mess (the CCP secretariat.) You get thrown out of the council and murdered when you find out that they made COVID in a lab and get mad about it, and then you go on a roaring rampage of revenge in the hope of wresting power away from your former colleagues. Meanwhile, your mentor has decided that the mutants are the immortality they were looking for all along and decides to turn everyone into pink goo, in the usual fashion.

So! When you are on the verge of confronting her and thwarting her plans, you are given two options! Or so I thought. It turns out you only get two options if you do everything you can to bond with your human friends, which mostly involves sharing all of china's cultural treasures with the adorable kid who follows you around. (And drinking a dude's vomit. No time to explain that.) The normal, regular, you didn't do that ending involves you taking the whole station back to Penglai (again, China) where you now have a permanent population of Formosans to use for the brain machines but you are presumably nice about it, and you have turned your little buddy into a collaborator. In the GOOD ending, you send all the humans back to earth (land back) and then you blow the space island up, incidentally genociding yourself. The sole survivor of the Han furry race is a fat cat in a hover chair named Kuafu, who loves bubble tea so much he had a tank of it built into his work uniform. He will not be reproducing.

So, lest you think my bracketing is excessive - this game was made by Red Candle, a Taiwanese game company which is best known for having their last game delisted from Steam for taking a shot at Xi Jinping. The soundtrack was created by Collage, an incredible band of native Formosan descent who write their songs in a bunch of languages - Amis, Hokkien, Japanese, English - but, pointedly, not in Mandarin. The political stuff is extremely on purpose. The second ending isn't exactly meant to be happy - your death devastates your little human friend, and life is going to be hard for the humans back on gradually thawing Earth. But the game is very clear that it's the correct ending, the right thing to do.

It would if nothing else be a really interesting way to resolve the political status of Taiwan. It's a One China policy, but not that one, because they're all fucking dead over there.

Taiwan's continued existence as an independent entity is probably the best thing our imperial sphere has ever done. Can you believe one of our dictatorial buffer states democratized itself? Like, the hereditary dictator's son decided that they needed to modernize and by that he actually meant to stop being a dictatorship, if only to stop making his political patrons (us) look bad? And now because of their buffer status they get to be the only real democracy in East Asia, insulated from power and power brokers by their liminality. And still it's a colony, and the native people have lived through occupation after occupation, to the point where some young people are starting to prefer the Japanese to the KMT because better the devil you never knew. What a mindfuck. You can see why just blowing the mainland to smithereens might be tempting to some.

Anyway. What a wonderful, fascinating game, and what a statement. (You just have to game out of your mind to get to it.) Probably harsher than anything that was in Devotion, which is why it's wise to deliver your political messaging through cute furries, as long as the furry in question isn't Winnie the Pooh.

[bullet-prooflove]

Taylor asks: Tangled up with you all night with Will

Will wishes he could say it was a slow descent into madness, at least then he may have had the choice to prevent it but it isn't, he falls in love in the flash of a lightning bolt, one that sears through the sky during the worst storms that Chicago has ever seen.

He's known you a while, the two of you have always had an easy discourse. You run into each other at Molly's, thorough professional interactions at the hospital, you're as present in his life as his brother it seems at times.

The two of you are soaking wet by the time you make it back to his place. The powers out at your apartment and you've spent most of the night being shunted by from pillar to post by dispatch, putting out fires where you can and arresting people where you can't. Your last port was the hospital because Ruzek had taken a beating from a couple of looters, he'd been trying to stop while off duty.

Your exhausted, wet and cold by the time Will uses his key in the lock. He flicks the hearing up to max, and tosses you some of his clothes before gesturing at the bathroom, telling you to take a hit shower if you need it because you're teeth are chattering.

When you come out of the bathroom, smelling of his shampoo and wearing his shirt and sweats he almost drops the steaming mugs of tea. It's then the lighting hits, raw, powerful and all consuming. He doesn't remember putting the cups down, he doesnt remember closing the distance because all that matters is the sensation of your lips on his as he undoes those buttons one by one.

You spend the night tangled up his sheets, the heat of his body warming your skin as he makes love to you in the darkness. He moves in slow strokes,savouring each and very sound that emits from your throat as he loves you like he's never loved another woman.

In the aftermath he bundles you up in the covers, drawing them up around your naked form as he cradles you close, his face pressed into the curve of your throat, slipping into sleep as the storm continues to rage outside.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Bite

Day 30. Doestarion. MIND THE TAGS. Song is Lose Control by Evanescence.

Every portal an opportunity. Doe stands in the room with its shimmering colours, the dais up to Baldur's Gate, there Waterdeep, there Neverwinter.

The master of the house is away.

Do it now. While you have the chance.

She walks up the steps slowly. Thinks about where she wants to go.

Who she wants to go home to. Closes her eyes. Steps through, so close, her hand closing on cool fingers-

-only to be yanked back by an all-to-familiar hand, Raphael's claws meeting at her wrist. She digs in her heels, pulls.

Astarion stumbles through the portal with her, his red eyes flashing as they land on the devil. Doe raises a hand in silent command.

Not yet.

'Mouse,' he chides, cold. 'Running away?'

'Going home,' she spits. 'Let go of me!'

'If you just obeyed you wouldn't be in this mess,' he snarls. In the space of half a heartbeat he moves; his empty hand strikes her with such stinging force she hits the ground hard, the air knocked out of her. Hot blood wells from the claw marks gouged from temples to chin, a mark of hatred, of ownership, of contempt.

'Fuck you,' she hisses, trying to stem the flow. Raphael steps forward, reaching out an open hand to grab her by the throat and lift her off her feet. He will taste her blood and remain unsatisfied, draw it again and again until she begs him to stop. He will throw her in the dungeon for this, like he did with Hope, and relish her descent into madness.

Her heart rages. The blood is sticky on her skin, running into her eye, pooling on the floor.

'If I have to spend the next thousand years teaching you exactly how to be a sweet little mouse who obeys her master-' he begins, before a mass of white curls fills Doe's vision, and the devil screams.

Astarion's fangs are in his neck, his hands wrenching his head back, the feral growl from his body sending shivers down Doe's spine. Raphael is still screaming when his knees buckle and he hits the floor, the vampire curled around him. Finally, when the devil sobs, Astarion lets go.

His mouth is smeared with blood, his eyes glowing with pure hatred. The pristine white ruffles of his shirt are marred, arterial blood dripping dark and hot from his bared fangs.

'It's only fair you get the killing blow, darling,' he purrs dangerously. The devil snarls in response, lunging to catch Astarion around the waist; he steps aside with ease, and in a blink the flash of a blade is in his slick fingers. 'Quickly.'

She takes the blade in her trembling hands, crawls to Raphael's body. He smirks at her, even as he bleeds out.

'Go on,' Astarion whispers. His voice is thick with longing, with desire, with the need to watch the devil die and his love be the one to do it.

She throws her weight behind it, feels the blade bite, wrenches it down with a terrible, rending crack of bone. And there it is, the human heart, beating once, twice-

thudum thudum.

'Doe, my sweet,' says Astarion softly. 'Lift it in your hands. Bite down.'

'What?'

'For me,' he breathes. 'Please.'

Her hands shake. The light in the devil's eyes has gone out. She reaches in. Takes the heart in her hands. Looks to her lover as the devil's blood coats her hands, drips down her wrists. 'I don't... I don't know about this...'

'Aren't you hungry, my love?'

'Not for this.'

'No?' He smiles the lopsided smile that's only for her, reaching to pull her up into a kiss. The blood is cloying on her tongue, but Astarion groans into her mouth, that sound that sends her knees to jelly. Heat pools in her belly as he presses forward, his other bloodied hand going to her hip. 'He tormented you for years, little love. Consume him. Go on...'

The heart steams between them. She lifts it to her lips, spurred on by the growl from his throat. Bites down. feels a flood of heat and iron, the acridity of smoke. He watches intently. She tears off a piece with her teeth, swallows. Feels the heat burn from the inside.

And he can wait no longer. Her back is against the wall, the heart falling to the marble floor with a soft, horrible splat. His tongue is cool on her skin, lapping up the blood he can reach, hers and the devil's- he captures her mouth, tears at her clothes, laughs when she rips his shirt. It's adrenaline, she thinks. The thrill. But he's insane. I love him. Gods help me, I adore him. Blood and fangs and all.

He's on his knees, tasting her arousal, coaxing babbling, incoherent curses from her, a string of whimpers and whines, his name half whispered on her breath. And then she is crashing into release and he hums with dark satisfaction, this monster. Her monster. And then he's inside her, drawing screams from her throat that echo in the House of Hope. It has no master, and neither does she, though she fears she may do anything if it is the feral creature before her who asks.

'I crave you,' he growls into her ear. 'Fuck, seeing you undone like that, covered in his blood... you sanguine siren. Mine, all mine...'

'Yes,' she sobs. 'Yes, yes, YES!'

'Keep count...'

'Two.'

'Mmm. You can give me more than that.'

He was an expert, of course she could. Another, and another, and another... and then his turn, the sharp bite down into her soft skin, the cry muffled, the spill aching and familiar.

'I think the blood of your enemies is my favourite look on you. Sweet little assassin.'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

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[steamcaptain]

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[creatureshrieks]

After his his hospital stay, Agent Mulder had become obsessed with whatever it was he thought he saw the night he was discovered. He spent an entire month desperately attempting to reach out to whatever this entity was that had managed to form some sort of contact with him. Night, after night, after night he drove back out to that spot, holding onto a different photo each time he sat in the heated cabin of his car. Each time he was greeted with nothing. Silence. Disappointment. Regret. Each time he felt more and more defeated. Frustrated. He had been so close. He had been on the brink of something potentially ground breaking and somehow the universe had told him no. No Fox Mulder, you're not allowed to know the unknown, even if you're going to have it dangled in front of your face.

He begins to deteriorate. Fox's five o'clock shadow becomes more and more apparent as the days slip by. His hair becomes unkempt. His eyes more bloodshot. The curiosity of what could have been, and what this thing might be consumes his every thought. He insists that whatever this is could be one of the biggest X-Files yet, and dedicates hours upon hours just in the hopes that research might bring some answers. Of course, it doesn't, and so in one final act of desperation he takes all the photos he was given and drives back to that place. Back to where they met. Back to where she had so graciously extended herself to him before. He's not sure what may happen. He's not even sure if anything will happen at all, but at the very least it will blow off some steam to scream at the sky a little bit.

"What do you want from me!?" The agent bellows at the night as he stands next to his car. He takes out the lock box, holding it up to where she once descended and shaking it out of anger and spite, "Why did you give me these just to abandon me?! Why!?" Anger begins to replace itself with remorse, and the fatigue of his dedication finally wears him down. The lock box becomes cradled in his arms, and as the man begins to sink to his knees he feels the hot pinpricks of emotion forming at the corners of his eyes. "Please..." Mulder practically begs, "Please give me something. Anything. I'll... I'll do anything." Head hung in sorrow, Fox's shoulder's begin to shake as he lets himself weep. He's just so tired. He's just so desperate for knowledge. All he can do is cry from the frustration.

@spookyagentfmulder || Mulder & The Entity || unprompted.

The Entity is a patient beast. A timeless monster, an endless expanse of suffering and violent glutted on blood. A month to Her is goes unnoticed, save for the effects the passage of time had on her newest prey. No longer did she plague him with nightmares, with visions of tomorrow, of yesterday, of distant worlds long since consumed. No longer did she penetrate his skull with droning static or assail his nose with the scent of iron and sulfur. He was to be forgotten, abandoned, a man who had come so close to the skin of god and scorned it, unable to accept the gift of the divine. She could have let him deteriorate like this, let her presence fester in his mind like a virus, infecting his psyche until nothing but Her remained on his lips. An agonizing descent, a subtle sweetness of madness that even she could taste from beyond the veil.

But the Entity was a selfish being, envious and greedy. A mere taste of what Mulder had to offer her was not enough. Would never be enough.

But it would not be rejected again. And so it waits, watching as he begs, pleads, cries for her return. Mourns her absence as one mourns the sun during the hurricane. Embraces the hope of reunion. She lets him reach for her, desperate to know, but never allowed to see. Not until he sinks to his knees and prays to a silent god for release.

This is the price for the truth - devotion.

There is a time of silence, a heavy pause broken only by Mulder's own breath as he breaks. A familiar, unwanted quiet. Perhaps if Mulder knew to be contended with what he had, he would learn to appreciate this moment of peace, the last he was to ever have.

A cool breeze responds to his sobs and the air feels heavy, electric. A static in the air that drones like dead air on the TV. He has called her, begged for her, and he has struck his bargain with her. Anything for her.

The static grows and with it, too, does a fog begin to creep up the hillside. Black and dark, a swirling mass that pools around Mulder's kneeling form, curls around him in a soft embrace. Anything for her. How could she refuse?

It's a storm that forms next, clouds that blot out the sky as lightning arcs through the sky and thunder rumbles like a waiting beast. The sky is red. The air is burning.

Anything for her. Words not to be taken lightly, Fox Mulder. You do not make deals with the devil without sacrifice.

A flash of lightning illuminates the darkened sky and the clouds tear themselves apart with an explosion of thunder, a deep rumble felt in the earth itself as Her form manifests. A mass of claws descend, spearheaded by one she had summoned before. A beckoning talon that hovers just before Mulder. It curls, inviting, an old friend come to see him, a choir of pounding static to herald her arrival. She waits, finally within his reach, finally willing to accept him once again.

Are you willing, Fox Mulder? Are you willing? To give yourself to her? To give everything to her?

Will you abandon her now, Fox Mulder?

[subbyyang]

Masterpiece - Ten/Yangyang // Serial Killer AU // Dead Dove (Pt 1/?)

Ten knew right there and then he had found what he had been looking for.

His masterpiece.

The story of two men's descent into madness. It might not end well.

Ten slowly lifted his eyes from his coffee, eyes traveling up and down the man in front of him. Probably a few years younger than him, small, platinum blond hair, shining eyes. Beautiful. Perfect. 

Ten knew right there and then he had found what he had been looking for. 

His masterpiece.

He watched as the man left the coffee shop, steaming cup in hand. For the first time in months, years even, he didn’t know what to do. His body thrummed in excitement telling him to go go go , but he waited. Waited one second, then five, then ten before finally downing his coffee and walking out the door, wrapping his scarf around his neck when the biting cold hit him. Immediately he spotted his bright hair, shining in the soft morning sun, and followed him from a distance, slowly, slowly, not making a sound, heart thumping in his chest. He couldn’t lose him. He followed him to a butcher’s shop, watched as he walked in, waving nonchalantly at the man working behind the counter before entering a door marked as ‘Personnel only’.

Oh, a butcher. Ten would have never guessed, such a pretty face he had, such dainty hands. He let his thoughts travel, imagining what the man would look like in his final moments; would he cry, would he beg? Maybe reach out to him with his pretty, dainty, mangled hands. So many options. 

Ten shook his head, trying to rid himself of those sinful images, it did him no good to dwell on them out of the comfort of his home. Besides, he would start to call attention to himself if he stayed put in front of the store much longer. He knew where he worked, that would have to be enough for today. 

— —

Ten sat in the same coffee shop, eyeing the door every couple of minutes, it shouldn’t be long now. The man had shown up everyday for the past three days, always around the same time; he would order his coffee to go and leave right away, only staying long enough for Ten to memorize one of his features. Today, he hoped he could concentrate on his neck, a vital part of his masterpiece. 

The sound of the bell caught him by surprise, he looked up expectantly, waiting to see the blond mop of hair that had been plaguing his dreams lately. But no, it wasn’t him. 

“Hey, turn - turn it up,” a man had said from the queue, pointing at a quiet TV in the corner.

Ten watched as the barista turned up the sound, the somber news anchor's voiceless speech being replaced by words that seemed to quiet everyone else in the room, the flashing of the words “BREAKING NEWS” leaving everyone in a trance. 

“Police have not yet made a statement but our sources confirm the latest victim is a young man in his late twenties who was said - “

Another one. 

Ten tuned out the rest of the report, not interested in speculation so early in the morning. He wanted the details, the true gory details of how the man had been killed, the kind of details one doesn’t get from the news. Maybe he should give Johnny a call later tonight.

Around him, people thrummed with an uncomfortable, terrified energy, it came out of them in waves. Ten loved it. He knew everyone in that coffee shop was imagining themselves as the next victim - Ten was imagining it too. Imagining them, that is. He looked from person to person, all of them so terrified, so small and insignificant, some hiding it better than others and then his eyes nearly bulged out of his head when they fell on him. He hadn’t seen him walking in, hadn’t heard the bell chiming as the door opened, the noise drowned by the news anchors still speculating who could have been the culprit. His eyes were fixed on the television screen, same as everyone’s, but there was no fear. There was something, an emotion Ten couldn’t pinpoint, a glint in his eyes that intrigued him. Maybe he was one of those true crime lunatics who loved to soak up a good gory murder but Ten wasn’t too sure. Still, he let his eyes travel down to the man’s neck, long and slim and so so pretty. How good would it look with Ten’s hands around it? How delicious would it look being slit open from one end to the other, letting his blood drip all over Ten’s awaiting face. He looked back up to see the man already looking at him, eyes boring into his soul. Before he could soften his hungry gaze, maybe even smile at his muse, the man looked at the clock on the wall, letting out a low curse before bolting out of the door without ordering his coffee.

Ten’s heart was still rapidly thumping inside his chest. The man always looked beautiful but there was something special today. He couldn’t wait to get back home and keep working on his new painting, the details of the man’s beautiful neck still fresh in his mind. 

— — 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re selling info to the tabloids,” Johnny said as he took a sip of his beer, eyes tired and shoulders sagging against the chair. 

“But you know better,” Ten purred over his glass of wine, a weird glint in his eye as he let his foot slide across the floor, poking at Johnny’s ankle, “tell me about it.”

“What do you want to know?”

Ten didn’t bother replying, staring at Johnny with a raised brow. This wasn’t the first time they did this, Johnny should know by now what he wanted to hear.

“Male, believed to be in his late twenties,” Johnny started with a sigh, “cause of death was probably blunt force trauma but we’re still waiting on the full coroner’s report.”

“You don’t know who he is yet?”

“You know I can’t give you his identity…”

“I’m not asking for it, I’m asking if you know it,” Ten explained, rolling his eyes, “you said ‘believed to be in his late twenties’, means you don’t know either.”

“Ten, it was absolute carnage, this guy’s face was caved in, couldn’t find one tooth still attached to his gums,” Johnny replied, rubbing his face with his hand, sounding even more tired than when he had arrived.

“Hey, I know you’re doing your best,” Ten said, forcing his voice to be lower, softer. He let his hand land on Johnny’s hand, his thumb rubbing circles in the skin. Inside, his blood was boiling, he didn’t have time to play therapist, he needed to know more, “you really are, but ‘The Butcher’ is just too out of control.”

“Do you actually believe in the butcher theory?”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know, Ten,” Johnny said with another sigh, “I find it weird that all of a sudden the city is being attacked by two serial killers.”

“The alternative is the city being terrorized by one serial killer and then many isolated extremely violent murderers, how can that sound more logical to you?”

“It’s just - it goes against all we are taught…victimology, murder weapon, no killing looks alike, at least with ’The Artist’, you can tell when he’s the killer, it’s obvious, but the others? If it weren’t for timeline and location no one would have tied them together.”

Ten hummed softly, taking one last sip of his wine. He hadn’t found out enough but he could tell it wasn’t a good night. Johnny was tired and frustrated, it was better to just drag him to bed and cut his losses. He would try to hear more about it some other day. 

“You had a shitty day, officer Suh, let me take care of you,” Ten purred as he pulled Johnny up by the wrist, walking backwards towards his bedroom, putting on his most alluring face. Not that he needed it, Johnny never needed much convincing to slip into bed with him.

“It’s Detective Suh to you,” Johnny said with a  tired smile as he let himself be pulled along, cock already starting to fatten inside his slacks.

[jade-muffins]

Fnaf: Mechanical Minds AU

So um

AU with William and an advanced Spring Bonnie as the center amiright?

I have the thing planned out, there's a lot to it, but this'll kinda be my first big multi-chapter fic and hopefully I don't run out of steam

Basic synopsis:

Spring Bonnie Advanced AI so basically Afton gives the robot an advanced AI where he can think and feel beyond what the other animatronics do and he's like "William Afton is perfect and my creator, such a charming and kind man who gave me life and we perform together and he loves to make people happy, isn't the guy just swell?"

And we all know Afton is- not a "swell guy." Throughout you will see this man's descent into madness and Spring Bonnie being the poor confused "fourth child" of William Afton

(Also the Springtrap and Plushtrap thing I got snippets out for, so I might post those because I unfortunately lost a bit of steam but I hope to write about them in between separate from the au ;-;)

[notjohnlinnell]

its tiem to introduce myself!

｡･:*****:･ﾟ★,｡*****☆welcome to mad's world!!!!!! ｡*****★,｡･:*****:･ﾟ☆

i'm your host, mad, or mads. 21 years old, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. only exception is if we're already friends.

about meeee:

bisexual demigirl! i use she/they pronouns

proud texan from day one!!!!!!!!

mixed-race (white hispanic, mexican descent)

philosophy student (i am so fucking sorry)

multi-instrumentalist since age 6 (piano, bass guitar, viola)

A/V student worker. looking to become a live music tech in the future :3333

fun fact: i have perfect pitch :3

music i like (hyperfixations in red bold):

they might be giants!!!!!!! eminem green day descendents interpol radiohead rancid!!!! siouxsie and the banshees l7 babes in toyland modest mouse the aquabats

video games i like:

team fortress 2!!!!!!!! the half life series stardew valley the GTA series (specifically San Andreas and IV) left 4 dead 2 (i sure seem to like valve games...) the sims (3 is my fav. 4 is a nasty skank) minecraft

shows i like:

good omens dan vs. flight of the conchords breaking bad trashy ghost shows... aqua teen hunger force

i like to roleplay so if you want to do that pls reach out!!! i won't do anything nsfw with people under 18 so please keep that in mind

don't be afraid to hop into my DMs, i love making new friends! also if you want to play video games PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA ask 4 my steam

THANKS 4 READING <33333333