#the way she talks to him as he rips out the ai (she says like ‘no! what are you doing??’)

[fischiee]

carwash sibs is OVER make way for mainelina sibs

[s-4pphics]

tag, you're it! (e.w.)

ITS PRIDE MONTH PUSSSSSSYYYYYYY 

omg this is kindaaaa…. yeah

imma lil proud LOL hope y’all like it 

wc;cw: 14.2k, ceosdaughter!ellie, tagger/artist!oc, ANGST!!, mentions of depression and suicidal ideation, illness, parental death & brief mentions of funerals, descriptions of foster care/homeless shelters and poverty, both oc n ellie have daddy issues, MOMMY ISSUES!!, brief mentions of drug addiction(coke), homophobia DURING PRIDE MONTH🤨🤨, internalized homophobia and misogyny, ellie is a horny touch starved loser n kinda stalkerish?, mentions of criminal injustice(police, prisons, etc.) i hate it here, rich ppl being demons, SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!!, light descriptions of masturbation, potential dubcon!!, sexual tension😟, bratty subbottom!ellie, mean domtop!oc she carries her dick on her like a glock lol, slight fearplay, KNIFE PLAY/BLOOD, DIRTY TALK, finger and strap sucking, fingering, pussy eating, MOMMY KINK!!, nipple play, squirting <333 n creaming <333, riding, reverse cowgirl, slapping(FACE!!! ass titties), hitting it from the bbbbback, loss of virginity, masochism LOL, a lil ass play LOL, pretty taboo themes catch it

“She’s… I genuinely believe she’s deranged, your honor! She’s… uncontrollable! Look at what she’s done to our city! Civilians can see her tracks everywhere they go, and it’s disgusting! Not to mention she’s a pervert!” 

You rolled your eyes as you listened to the high-pitched, ongoing shrieks of one of the wealthiest women in the state as she spat belittlements of you to the judge. 

You were… fucked. 

You adjusted in your uncomfortable chair, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head to eye your lawyer, arching a brow at him as you waited for his defenses for you. He looked… scared shitless, to say the least. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to fucking jail. 

Were these pieces of shit really going to treat you like Satan himself for pulling a measly, little prank? Has April Fools truly lost all meaning?

A couple of days ago, on April 1st, you took it upon yourself to spray paint ♡GIRLDICK♡ across the largest building in the city, which just so happened to be owned by the Miller family, if anyone even bothered to call their cultist bond that. Their wealth swiftly accumulated when the now deceased founder of the organization, Joel Miller, discovered some new form of AI technology… or whatever the elders at the shelter told you. His death shook your city years ago; You weren’t sure why it was so moving for people, but R.I.P, you guess. 

You assumed they were just another group of elitist fuckers, but he must’ve been decent at the most; You still remember his memorial broadcasting on the small TV at the shelter as the other residents mourned in solace. 

Regardless, you hope all their institutions across the nation collapse one day, preferably with the rest of them inside. 

The broad in the black, silk suit kept pointing her finger at you, and it took everything in your spirit to not get up out of your seat and rip it clean off her hand and shove it down her throat. 

Not every tag you’ve done around the city has been rooted in “perversion”. There’s nothing perverse about… loving girldick. It’s a way of life!

Fuck security cameras. 

Unbeknownst to them, you’ve already been coined as a hidden talent in the city, at least according to some people you know at the shelter. You’re faceless in the eye of the public, but that separation doesn’t negate their appreciation for your artwork. You even went viral for the mural you painted of your father for his birthday two years ago, even though the fucker that posted it on Instagram hadn’t included your signature. You could bet millions of people have seen it by now, and you gained absolutely nothing from it. 

But, of course, your form of creative expression was being reduced to a jizzing penis. You've created countless mosaics around the city that represent the purest forms of love and sex, and now you are being blasted for being some sort of corrupt sicko. You only drew what came natural to you, and if people felt a way about it, they could choke on the fattest girldick known to humanity. You hate rich people.

Your father didn’t sacrifice everything he had to teach you the complexities of sketching for your name to be attached to outlines of dicks. You didn’t grow up watching your father skip meals so he could get you a new water paint set for your birthday every year for your art to be lawfully ridiculed. The only comfort this situation brought was that you knew he would’ve found the sloppily drawn cock hysterical. You still remember his laugh after all this time. 

You miss him dearly. You probably could’ve been just as rich, if not more, as the bitch at the other table if he was still here with you. He would’ve ensured you didn’t stray off into the life you live now. 

Being in foster care was the dissipation of your joy. You were considered a problem child very early on: fighting the caretakers when they tried to calm you, cursing at them, stealing, and nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, regardless of your talents. You were set up to fail too early, and you despised the world because of it. 

Your record was horrendous, and you were going to jail. You fucking hate rich people.

… Except the Miller's eldest daughter. She gets a pass. 

And she keeps staring at you. 

Every time you caught her sparkly eyes, she blushed and looked forward, her freckles surrounded by a deep red that rushed down her neck. She was dressed much less… sophisticated than her mother: her hair tied back in a low bun and littered with black bobby-pins, a dark-blue sweater, rings on her thumb, black pants, and clean Vanz. 

You knew a lesbian when you saw one. You could barely hide your knowing smirk. 

“My child doesn’t need to be exposed to such… nauseating ideologies! Think of the children of the city and what they’re forced to see because of vile people like that,” she pointed at you again. You were this fucking close to stabbing her with that pen in front of you. 

Your daughter’s gay, Mrs. Miller. 

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the judge started. What kind of backwards shit was this; Wasn’t she supposed to be respecting him? “It’s important that we stay on track. You’re specifically suing her for vandalism— “

“Ongoing, unchecked vandalism! This is not her first charge, your honor, it’s her seventh! She’s… she’s— “

You tried to tune her out, looking around the congested space of the courtroom, and you caught eyes—shiny, green eyes— on you. Again. 

She was fiddling with her hands in her lap, her teeth picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip. But she didn’t look away this time. You watched her eyes trail over your face, down to your jaw, your neck, your chest, only to come back up to your eyes. 

You did the same, taking in the dots on her soft cheeks, her eyes, her pretty nose, and mouth, looking her up and down, biting your lip, letting her know you were gauging her. She was cute, you had to admit. 

“—sentenced to three years in federal prison— “

You looked up in shock, feeling like your body had been dunked into a tub of ice water and left to die, instantly stiffening at the announcement of your sentence, the sound of the slamming gavel nearly putting you six feet under. 

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the judge in disbelief as he organized his papers emotionlessly, your lawyer putting his hand on your shoulder. You knocked it off and glared at him. You looked over to the table, the family already up and taking their leave, Mrs. Miller’s hand tightly enclosed around her daughter’s wrist as she dragged her out the wooden doors.

Two security guards were already walking towards you with cuffs, gripping your arms too roughly to pull you up out of your seat and latching the metal around your skin. You started to panic as they walked you towards another set of doors.

“Wait, wait, my backpack, I need my— “

“You aren’t allowed to have anything on you. Your property will be held by the court until further notice.” 

“But— “

“No buts, and don’t resist,” you felt the security grip your arm harder, and your anxiety peaked, your panting breaths hardly leaving your body.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your life was shattering around you in slow motion, loose shards slicing through you with intent to kill. 

You allowed the brawly men to drag you… anywhere. You didn’t care anymore; You were tired, and no longer had the urge to fight left in your heart. 

Ellie was brought up in isolation. 

Homeschooled, no friends, no purpose outside of being the vessel to represent her family name, creating the next line of heirs for her father’s company. 

The benefits of his successes had simply… appeared when she was fifteen. 

She remembered how he went from being present, gave her the utmost attention, played sports with her, taught her how to sing and self-defense with his past down switchblade, to not, completely cut off from society as he barricaded himself in his study and worked relentlessly on new forms of technology. Being an only child brought nothing but loneliness for her after a while. 

But then they were rich. They moved to an affluent neighborhood and into a two-story house in a matter of months, driving Porches and buying out stores. Wealth appeared, but the relationship with her family suffered because of it. 

Her father fell ill, and after a multitude of hospital visits, teary farewells, and a memorial, he was gone. Merely a memory that hardly seemed real. Her and her mother’s relationship became even more unsteady after his passing. 

Ellie’s mother swiftly took over the company in an almost authoritarian way. She interacted with society in a robotic, rehearsed manner. Mechanical, soulless, the only proof of her humanity exposing itself when she snorted white powder. 

Her mother had brought up the idea of marriage the second she turned eighteen, a year before her father’s passing, saying that there were multiple well-off men that were eager to be with her, willing to give her children. Multiple. 

Men…. children… having children with men. Money. The empire. Her mother.

It all made her nauseous. 

… But art didn’t. 

She’d always kept her journals secret. Left in a box on the highest shelf of her walk-in closet where the maids couldn’t find them.

She expressed everything that she couldn’t to her mother on paper. Her depression, her insomnia, her desire for death, her mourning, the need for sex with non-men, any form of physical connection, something—anything that made her feel human, normal.

She needed a fucking hug. A kiss. Sex. She wanted to fuck.

The first time she saw your artwork on an abandoned building as she chauffeured to the museum, she’d nearly fainted. 

It’d been two women on top of each other, the most intimate parts of their body covered with the other’s hands and skin. One had her head between the other’s legs atop blankets and flowers as the other… apparently in the middle of an orgasm. Her mother always made the point of sex sound so… stiff. Lifeless. Merely a factor of procreation.

But your art was so erotic. Sensual. So full of pleasure and softness and care. 

She’d almost jumped out of the car and onto oncoming traffic to get a closer look at every detail, but the car was too quick. She couldn’t even get a fucking picture. 

And she was soaking. How the fuck was she going to explore a museum when she was dripping like this?! 

You’d given her one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had in her life when she returned home that day, and she didn’t even know who you were. She’d spent hours with her hand between her legs as she thought of your creation while her mother was out working, moaning and crying out as loud as she wanted, and she wasn’t even embarrassed. 

She would sneak out in the darkest clothes she had when her mother passed out on the couch, and just walk. Specifically in search for anything with your signature that she’d memorized like it was her own. She’d taken pictures of your content, memorized them, got off to the suggestive ones in secret, and appreciated your love and passion for your craft. 

She’d even started recreating her own depictions of eroticism. All with women. They never looked the same: different heights, all skin tones and body types, anything that she could think of, she drew it. She’d tried to envision what you looked like after only a few weeks, and she prayed her envisions were at least somewhat accurate. 

She never could draw self-portraits with precision, but she knew it was her. She was always in the middle of the raunchiness that she conjured up in her mind, being touched everywhere, tied up, beaten, completely ripped apart and forced to forget the suffocating world around her. Her reimagining's of herself would be drowned in pleasure, sometimes by you, by herself, by faceless strangers. Anything she wanted. 

When she saw you for the first time, she almost couldn’t control herself. 

She’d felt like a fucking creep as she ducked behind parked cars to watch you paint all over an abandoned freight train behind a trashed building. The streets had been silent as she watched you decorate the metal cart in floral interpretations of pussy, her heart in her throat. 

You looked gorgeous and focused and tired. So, so tired, only in sweats and a tank top with a hefty bag strapped to your back. She assumed you kept your art supplies in there.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you when she’d seen you during your court hearing. 

You were just as gorgeous as the first time she saw you, but, somehow, even more exhausted. Far away, not really present, but she couldn’t blame you. And she couldn’t stop staring, enthralled by you. Even in your grayest moments, you made her feel vibrant. And that brought her guilt.

But it also made her lustful. Hungry. 

And she couldn’t stop staring. 

When her mother dragged her out of the hearing, she was enraged, even more so when she degraded you on the way back to the car. 

You fucking stared at that whore the whole time!

Don’t ever, in your life, embarrass me again. 

I’ll throw you in the gutter with that rat if you ever disrespect me like you just did in there. Do you understand?

Ellie didn’t even know what she did to garner a response this aggressive, but she was used to it. And, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn’t give a fuck. 

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

It was your fifth day in prison, and you felt nothing. 

You didn’t cry, you didn’t plead, you simply succumbed to your destiny in silence. Your father would be so disappointed if he were alive. 

I raised a fighter, so you fucking fight!

But you couldn’t. You were tired, and you wished you could stay asleep, never to wake up again.

You’ve been working like a dog since you got here, and you accepted it. This was your life, and you felt nothing. 

Until your cell unlocked. These fuckers were probably here to shit talk you again. 

They cuffed your wrists and led you somewhere. You didn’t care where, keeping your head down as they encased your arms in a calloused grasp. You hoped this location would be your last forever. 

They led you into an empty room and uncuffed you. You saw the old sweatsuit that you’d received from the shelter, and your heartbeat sped up. You looked at the security in confusion. What the fuck were they doing? What were they about to do?

You could barely hear what the officers were saying, jumbled words of bail bond and cash payments molding together and sounding like a foreign language to you. They undid your handcuffs and pointed towards the clothes, murmuring for you to change so they could transport you back to the courthouse to retrieve your belongings. 

What the fuck is going on?

When you returned to the shelter, you inspected your bag. After nearly scrubbing your skin off while showering. 

The contents were all in their original condition, each individual item wrapped in plastic with small notes attached to them. Except for your dick. You assumed the court had no comments. 

Your paint, your brushes, random hairpins, your notebooks. They were all there in their original condition. Thank god. 

What you didn’t expect to see was a new jacket, sweatsuit, and small note wrapped in the same plastic from inspection. 

You ripped the plastic open and retrieved the note, unfolding it and… confusion, arousal, and fear rushed through you, shocking your body as all your feelings shot down your spine. 

It was a sketch of… you. And a girl bent over with her hands bound behind her back as you fucked her. An… incredibly familiar looking girl. 

A freckled girl. A rosy-cheeked girl. The rosy-cheeked girl from a week ago with the psychotic, sadistic mother.

Her expression in the sketch was pure ecstasy. It looked like she was screaming, her cheeks shaded dark with water-paint and her hair a reddish-brown, thrown in all sorts of directions. Her eyes wild and erotic. Yearning. Teary. Her pleasure seemed dream-like.

And you looked just as gone. Head tossed back, sweaty with your dick shoved inside her pussy, your nails digging into the soft skin on her hips, small, but deep, bloody scratches following the painful glide of your fingertips that make the red blotches on her backside. There were small doodles of strap-ons and pussies smudged, erased, fixed to perfection that seemed almost manic. Obsessive. 

You looked at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper, a small signature across the bottom of it. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

Come back home. Five days.

E.M.

… Come back home? You don’t have a fucking home. And who the fuck is E.M? Your heart was beating against your chest, climbing up your throat in an attempt to escape your body entirely. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flying across the sloppy penmanship. 

… ♡GIRLDICK♡

E.M.

M. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

M.

… Miller Enterprise. 

Miller. 

… Freckles. 

…. What in the fuck. 

It was almost dark, and you were shivering as the wind blew past you. 

It had been five days. 

You were eyeing the large building in front of you from across the street, a giant M slapped across the top of it, windows galore, hoodie on your head and trembling hands shoved in your pockets. 

You could see the last bit of employees trickling out of the building, clad in suits and tight pencil skirts, heavy briefcases and clicking heels. 

You could also see the fresh white and black paint covering where your spray-painted dick used to be, and it made you chuckle to yourself. You were almost tempted to recreate it with your new snagged bottle of acrylic. It supposedly glowed in the dark. 

But then you saw a dark shadow in the corner of your eye, hurriedly moving past the glass of the entrance. 

Your heart raced instantly at the thought of being discovered, and you followed the body's movement. You could see it was Ellie the closer she got to the glass, dressed in a black sweater and comfortable pants, and her same shoes from the court hearing. She looked antsy, a bit on edge, but curious. She was anticipating seeing you. 

You could see her messing with the keypad on the door, the loud sounds of locks clicking over the bustling streets. Flashes of red, swiftly replaced with flashes of green shined through the maxi-glass, and she looked around at all the doors. What was she checking for?

She seemed satisfied with her job, and she slid the entry door open, leaving it slightly ajar so she could slip something between it. 

She gave one last glance at the system before bolting back inside and down the lengthy hallway before all the hall lights shut off. 

Did she… did she just disable all the alarms for you? 

Now, you were the one anticipating meeting her. 

You ran across the street the second you got a chance, hurdling through traffic before running up onto the sidewalk and treading the stairs. 

You looked down and noticed two pens taped together, holding the door open. You picked them up and inspected them, a glossy, silver M near the gel tip. 

You stepped inside before anyone noticed, the door automatically shutting behind you before the same green lights came on, a robotic voice confirming that the doors were locked.

You were inside the Miller Enterprise, and you were terrified.

Ellie was so nervous. 

She’d been checking her Chanel watch all day, obsessively monitoring the windows to see if anyone that resembled your form had arrived, but she was disappointed every time she looked. No sign of you, yet.

The later it got, the more anxious she became. Did you see the note she left in your bag? Was it too forward? Did you think she was fucking crazy? Did you hate her for what her mother did? She prayed not. 

She was currently pacing around her mother’s—father’s—dark office, every step of her shoes echoing in the nearly empty room. She hasn’t been in here since she was seventeen, and it brought just as much anxiety as it did the first time. 

This will all be yours when I’m gone, don’t fucking ruin it. 

She hated everything about this space. Every aspect of her dad was completely gone. All his pictures, his vinyl, his pens and pencils, his nameplate. Everything. All of it, completely void of emotion. 

She hated it, she hated it. 

But then she heard a clang in the hallway, and her anxiety picked up even more before she could process it. 

She quickly made her way over to the exit, peeking her head through the doorframe and examining the hallway, searching for you. The noise had to be you! You really came! She could feel her nipples getting hard already.

But she saw no one. No one was in the dark hallway. 

… Fuck.

Why did she shut the system off? The lights wouldn’t come on!

Her hands instantly got clammy, her heart racing, and her knees shook. She hadn't felt like this since she was a kid, and she was horrified.

Someone’s here to hurt you, someone’s going to come in and hurt you!

You never leave doors unlocked! He always said to lock your doors, never, never, never—

She couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over her entire body, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her father’s switchblade, pressing its latch down to expose the blade. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the large window and tried to steady her breathing. She looked out of the glass and inhaled harshly. 

Keep your grip tight when you strike! 

Calm down calm down calm down—

“Boo.” 

You saw Ellie jump with a hard gasp before spinning to face you, a fearful look on her face and her switchblade in hand, pointed edge towards you. 

You could see her chest rise up and down with every shaky breath she took, her body trembling and cheeks flushed. You felt like your body was going to burst into flames, but you hid it, grinning slyly at her as you stepped forward. 

Deep breath. 

“Hi, Ellie.”

Another step forward. She took two back, nearly pressed against the glass. 

“Y-You,” she stuttered as her eyes darted around nervously, and you could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness, “How’d you get in here?” 

“I think you know how.” 

You shrugged, the contents of your bag shuffling on your back. You pointed towards the large, stretched windows behind her that oversaw the entire city, the hustling streets and lights beaming into the dimly lit room from the last bits of sunset. 

“View’s incredible,” your mockery littered in sarcasm. Don’t let her know you’re scared. 

She took a bold step forward as her brows furrowed, anger twisting on her doll-like face. You took two, as well. You saw her eyes dart to your feet before meeting your gaze to hiss at you.

“There’re cameras on every floor of this fucking building! I press that button,” She darted her small knife towards the enclosed, red button on the side of the wall, a large print of EMERGENCIES ONLY directly above it. “And every cop in this city’ll show up and take your ass back to the fucking gutter where you’re supposed to be.” 

… How the fuck was she going to threaten you when she told you to come here?! What was she playing at?

She pointed her weapon back at you. You ignored your confusion and raised an impressed brow before walking forward without pause, pulling her mother’s chair out from under the desk, the wheels squeaking against the marbled tile. You saw the grip she had on her knife tighten. 

You smiled at her. “You’re pretty good with a knife, honey.” 

“Fuck you. Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I dunno,” you scoffed, twirling on your heels as you took in the luxurious space around you. “I can bet my bottom ass dollar that you like it.” 

Her glare hardened, and your smile brightened. You finally moved to sit in the chair, the plush leather molding against your body and stuffed backpack. You scooted back under the desk and rested your elbows on the hand-carved rosewood, completely calm. At least outwardly. Your insides were jittery from adrenaline. 

You quickly inspected the contents of the desk: her mother’s matching rosewood nameplate, some loose paperwork with large sums of money scattered on them, dark pens and markers, and a signed restraining order. With your name on it. 

You’re apparently not allowed a hundred feet within the perimeter of the building. 

… Funny. 

“Press it.” 

Her scowl hardened, “What?” 

You pointed a lax finger towards the button as you looked up from the document, “I said press it. You want me gone so bad, right?” 

She didn’t reply, her fingers fidgeting around the knife as she adjusted her grip. Her eyes nervously flitted across the room, all over the white floors, back on you. 

“You’re not gonna press the fucking button.” You spat with a devilish smile. “And I know why.” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know sh— “

“You paid my bail.” 

You heard her release a shaky exhale when you sliced through her words, her eyes widening in shock like she saw through you, and you knew you had her. Your smile widened as your nails pattered where you tapped on the desk. 

“Uh huh. Why’d you do it?” 

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and you almost laughed. 

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that kept you company in your small cot during your restless nights, unfolding it and holding up the explicit depiction that she left in your bag days ago. You pressed her as you swung the chair with your foot, “Think somebody’s got a little crush. Mommy’s gonna be so upset with you.” 

“FUCK YOU!” She marched towards you until she was in front of the desk, her scent enclosing around you before you felt the incredibly sharp blade against the side of your neck, and you stiffened in terror. You looked at her in shock, studying her expression. She looked pissed, but you saw… something in her eyes that made your core squeeze tight. 

It was vulgar, needy, and you hoped she missed your body’s excited shudder at her crude rage. 

She didn’t. Curiosity shone behind her lust and fiery, her enraged shrieks shook your eardrums. 

“You’re fucking worthless! You really think anyone’s gonna care about you rotting in a fucking cell?! You’re… you’re nothing! You’re a low life! You’re… you’re! —“

You deadened your own eyes as you slowly moved to stand, but she pressed the knife deeper into your skin as she leaned over the desk, your faces closer together. You stiffened and felt a sting on your skin, and a drop of wetness. Your pussy squeezed, and you could feel sweat looking under your jacket. 

“Gonna kill me, Ellie?” You glared at her, your heart pounding with fear and exhilaration. 

Say you want me. Say it, sayitsayitsayit!

Her eyes were vengeful as she scanned your face, but you saw that glint grow behind the harsh overcast. Something you craved just as badly as she did. 

“Really want mommy to see her precious girl killing somebody on camera? Hm?” 

“She,” her breath shuddered. “wouldn’t give a fuck if it were you, I promise.” 

You barely whispered your reply as you leaned even closer, your nipples hardening under your sports bra and your underwear clinging to your wetness. 

“Then do it.”

The heavy breaths she released hit your face in a burning wind, and your core tightened once more. You could see the aggression on her face slowly dissipate, that giddy sparkle in her eye overtaking her pupils as they darkened. 

You felt the cold steel pull away from you slowly, her hand coming down on the desk, — unfortunate— and it threw you into action.

Your hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the sides, and you heard the clatter of the object as it hit the wood. You heard her suck in a choked breath as her eyes glossed over, suddenly desperate and wanton and scared like you’d been seconds before. She looked like a neglected kitten, and it made you hold her neck in tighter constriction. 

She whimpered aloud as she attempted to gasp, her hand coming up to grab your wrist, but you snatched it away with your free hand, and it limply dropped to the desk, her body submitting. 

You leaned in closer to her, and her eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered, silently begging for you to kiss her. You snickered. 

You let her neck go and slammed your palm across her blushing cheek, a loud crack! filling the room. 

She cried aloud, looking like she was about to burst into tears as she jumped off the desk and backed away from you, her hand pressed against her searing cheek. You rose to your feet and circled around the desk, rushing towards her until she was pressed up against the window. Tears were running down her face. You shoved her closer against the glass, grabbing her cheeks to force her to look at you. 

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? I got a little fan, is that it?” 

“N-No— “

“Yeah, I do. Fuckin’ stalker. Probably gotta whole shrine t’me in your fucking room. Does mommy know that you worship me? The lowlife who fucked up her building?” You snapped at her.

She flinched at your tone before she choked out a gasped sob, “I j-just liked what you m-made.”

“Stop crying, Ellie.”

She nodded as she sniffled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. You grasp loosened on her cheeks as you cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the wetness on her already bruising skin. You noticed how she leaned into your caress. It made your heart jolt.

“Look at me,” you whispered. 

She hesitantly met your eyes. 

“You wanna kiss me?”

She looked down at her shuffling feet, and you saw her fist clench. 

“Answer me.” 

“Y-Yes, wanna kiss. Just… just one?”

You hummed in satisfaction, inching closer towards her like you did previously. She stiffened but shut her eyes tightly, her plush lips poking out in a pucker once more as your noses touched. You chuckled and whispered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke. 

“You ever kissed anyone, baby?”

She sighed out an uneven nuh uh, her mouth chasing yours. You grinned wider.

“Oh? M’gonna be your first kiss?” 

She whined out a needy uh huuuh! 

You stuck your tongue out, slowly running the wet muscle over her lower lip, and you felt her whole body tremble against yours. She brainlessly stuck her tongue out to lick yours, but you pulled back. She tried to follow you, but you yanked her head back by the small bun at the back of her head, the soft strands curling around your fist. 

She let out a moan, and your tongue licked up her exposed throat, leaving a trail of spit up her chin, all the way to her mouth. 

You relented and connected your mouths, and she let out a shocked noise into your mouth. You slipped your tongue in her gaping mouth, wet, smacking noises filling the room as you kissed her hotly. She couldn’t keep up with your quick movements, her lips and tongue moving sloppily against yours. Her spit was all over the outside of your mouth. 

You felt her hands come up to your hips to grip your jacket in a tight fist as she moaned into your mouth. 

The noises she let out were so sweet: little, excited gasps and whiny keens as she tried to pull you closer. 

You released her hair and grabbed her chin to move her head to the side. You kissed down her neck, and she jerked against you. Her breaths increased in pace as you pecked her sweaty skin, lapping your tongue all over the side.

You sucked into the skin under her ear, right under her jaw, pulling her sweater down to mark her collarbone. 

“Pleeease, pleaseplease, ah— “

You mumbled in between gentle sucks, “What, Ellie? Talk.” 

You felt her hands grab your hips tighter, but she said nothing. You pushed her hands off you roughly and looked at her with piercing eyes. She shrunk into herself when she met them. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?” 

She nodded quickly. 

“So fucking talk,” you gritted out. 

“Want,” she whispered with a sharp gasp. “Want you.” 

You smirked, “You want me?”

“Mmhm!”

You shoved your backpack off your shoulders, the thud echoing when it hit the floor. 

“Want me to do what?”

She paused before looking down at her feet again, twiddling and picking at her fingers as her face burned red. 

“Um…” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, but you felt her hand grab your wrist and you stopped. You looked at her in annoyance. 

She looked at you tentatively, her breathing shaky. 

But then she slowly brought your hand in between her legs. 

She shivered as she placed her hand on top of yours, making you rub her cunt back and forth. She released pleased sighs as her lashes fluttered, her head falling back against the window as she looked at you up and down. 

“P-Please?” She licked her lips. “Wan’you here.”

You scoffed in shock, and her thighs squeezed down on both your hands. You pressed your palm closer against her, and her hips bucked into you. 

You moved closer to her, your clothed chests pressed together. 

“Move your hand,” you spoke quietly, just for her to hear even though you were alone.

She dropped it limply. You pressed your palm into her covered clit, and she moaned. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek as you spoke.

“Baby just wanted her pussy touched? That’s why you acted out earlier?”

She didn’t speak as she panted heavily. You brought your hand up to slap her cheek again, and she released a pained cry as her hips twitched. 

“Talk!”

“Yes! Needa… need t’be touched!”

“Tell me where.” You brought your hand back down to her pussy as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. 

She sobbed. “A-Anywhere!”

You leered at her soft face. “Yeah? I get t’choose?” 

She nodded quickly, her eyes screaming touch me, please! Make me cum!

“Open your mouth, honey. Stick your tongue out.”

She mewled softly, but did what you asked, her shiny, pink muscle glistening under the beaming city lights. 

You brought your hand up, rubbing your index and middle finger on her soft tongue. 

“Get ‘em wet.”

She hummed as she sucked them into her mouth with no hesitation. You felt her tongue messily swirl around your digits as she sighed contently, and you pressed an encouraging peck on her cheek. 

You slowly fucked your fingers in, pulling them out, only to push them back in again. You almost awwed aloud when she chased your digits every time you pulled out. She was already drooling for them. 

You pressed her tongue down as you fucked in, and she gagged on them. Her eyes shot open and they instantly watered, her throat tightening around you. 

“Bet you suck a mean dick,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. 

She moaned loudly as you fucked deeper into her mouth, pressing down on the back of her tongue. 

“Oh, yeah? Want mine down that pretty throat?”

She garbled and nodded as much as she could with your fast thrusts in her mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck it open. 

“Snooped through my shit, didn’t you? Saw my fucking cock and creamed yourself? That’s why you bought me new shit?”

You saw her bring a hand down to touch her pussy, her hips bucking into her own hand, chasing any stimulation. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her. 

You finally eased up on her throat and pulled out completely, lines of slobber connecting your fingers and her mouth together. You cut them with your own tongue, her spit clinging to the edges of your mouth. 

You planted a smacking kiss on her lips before you shoved your hand down her dark, flared pants and into her boxers. 

She squealed when you immediately found her clit with your spit covered fingers, the slippery bud sliding between your already drippy fingers. You watched her hand fly to the white windowsill for balance as your hand went wild on her cunt. 

“Such a wet fucking pussy. Feels good, baby?”

Her brows creased as she nodded, her body rocking with your movements. “A-Ah! —“ 

“Uh huh. You touch yourself like this when mommy’s at work? Hm?”

Her head shamefully jerked in confirmation. You could see her now: her pretty legs spread on her plush bed, her sopping pussy squeezing at the thought of you fucking her just how she needed. She’d be grabbing at her tits as she flicked her clit, desperate to cum all over her blankets for you. Your pussy was so wet. 

“You think about me when you do it?” You knew the answer, but you needed her to say it. Confirm that she thought about you just as much as you thought about her. 

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

“Fucking whore, no wonder she hates your guts.”

She moaned louder at your degradation. “S’c—coming! “

Your fingers were practically vibrating on her cunt, her clit thumping as her orgasm built. “Get my fingers nice’n sloppy, angel, c’mon— “

She reached down to grab your wrist as she jumped on your fingers, but before you could slap her, her body tensed, and her eyes rolled into her skull. You felt her clit pulsate under your touch, and you knew she was cumming.

“Fuckmemommy!”

You couldn’t stop the shock that appeared on your face as you watched her thrash on your hand, gasping out, asking you to please fuck me, mommy! Need you to fuck me!

You just massaged her through it, pressing your hips up against hers so she couldn’t run from your touch. 

“Wan’mommy to fuck you, angel?” you mumbled in your daze as your pussy dripped, your brain barely registering what you just said.

“Yespleasepleaseplease, gimme— “

“Fuck, baby, need mommy inside you?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. 

“M-Mhhm!—“

“Gimme your leg,” You lifted it up with your free hand, bringing it up so it came around your waist.

You slid your fingers down to her twitchy entrance and slipped the tip of your pointer finger inside. You almost moaned at how her walls clung to you, sucking you in deeper, milking you.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy,” you mumbled to her, and she whimpered when your finger arched inside her. You prodded around until she slumped against you, pushing her hips down on your finger. You leaned in, your lips brushing her ear as you cooed right there? yeah? feels fuckin’ good?

She couldn’t even speak. She just plopped her head onto your shoulder and sloppily kissed your neck. Your cunt clenched and you flinched when her soft tongue licked into the small slit she made earlier. You heard her hum as her tongue swiped a line from your collarbone to your cut; She was licking your blood up like a fucking dog!

It made you punch that spot in her harder, and she cried out against your skin, her nails digging into your forearm. 

You slowly pushed your middle finger in, and she sobbed as she stretched around you. You arched your thumb out to rub her clit as you poked that spongy spot in her pussy; She was so loud for you. 

“Like when I touch you there?” 

“I like it, like it s’much!” You felt her nodding mindlessly against you.

“Gonna cum on me again?” you spat at her. 

“Fuck yes!” 

“Know you’re gonna cum hard, can’t even fuck you like I wanna, squeezing me so tight.”

You dug your fingers as deep and fast into her as her cunt would allow. Her walls were choking the fuck out of you, practically screaming for them to stay where you were pressed inside her. How the fuck was she going to take you fully?!

The thought of breaking her open made you shake, “Gonna make this pussy take me. Can’t wait t’give you this fucking dick.”

Then she started screaming out for you, trying to get you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her leg dropping onto the floor. “Ohgodohgodohgod, m’cumming, mommy, I’mcu—AH!”

You almost fell back when she went limp on you, her knees buckling as her slick coated your fingers, your palm, her panties. You used your weight to push her back against the window, her head thudding against the glass like before, but she seemed too engulfed in her desire to care. You almost brought your hand up to comfort her sore spot, anyway, but you stopped yourself. 

You took her in: practically dangling off you as she wailed from orgasm, her face beat red, the bun at the back of her head almost loose, her eyelids fluttering. You sneered at her, a nasty grin on your face. 

“Atta girl, so excited for cock, ain’t she?”

She could only grind out yesyesyes between her teeth, her fingers still squeezing down on you as you rubbed her clit, her orgasm slowing down. 

“You gotta make me cum first, m’kay?” 

“W’na make… mommy cum!” she nodded like a bobblehead as she slurred. 

“Yeah? Want mommy’s cum in your mouth?”

She wept desperately, “Yes, please, need it!”

You grinned, catching a glimpse of your desperate reflection in the mirror. You’re so glad she was too fucked out to notice.

“C’mon, honey.” 

Ellie stood in front of you as you sat in her mother’s chair, her shoes kicked off. 

Your bag was tossed next to you as you stared at her, noting her fidgeting stance. She wasn’t looking at you, at all. She was looking down, specifically at your occupied hands. 

You’d picked up her discarded knife from the table, inspecting its rusty, scratched design, slightly bloody blade, retraction. You couldn’t stop fiddling with it. 

“W-What’re gonna do with that?” You heard her ask. 

You ignored it. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Her voice went sharp. 

“What kinda father lets his baby play with such sharp objects?” You said in between sarcastic snickers. 

“He’s fucking dead, who cares.” 

You finally looked up at her sharp tone, examining her tense face, and your playful smile slowly dropped. She tried to appear as if mentioning it didn’t bother her, but you recognized that look in her eye from anywhere. Grief fucking sucks, no matter how much time passed.

“… Hm.” 

You looked down at the blade again, then back up at her, “He taught you how to… handle it?” 

She shrugged, her brows raising as her arms crossed over her chest. You nodded. 

Your arm was suddenly incredibly itchy. “Mine taught me how to… draw n’stuff.” 

You looked off to the side awkwardly as you reminisced on the first pack of colored pencils he’d bought you. You remembered how particular he was about the art utensils and their conditions. You didn’t realize that he was trying to ensure their quality because he couldn’t afford another pack until you got older.

Always make sure these bastards are sharpened! That’s true precision!

“… Cool,” you heard her say, and you looked at her, “Were you guys, uh, close?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded stiffly, and silence surrounded the two of you. Ellie awkwardly nodded as she stared at the floor, and your lips twitched before you turned to stare out the window.

Some time passed in pure silence before you heard her speak. 

“… Still wanna, uh… D’you still wanna fuck?” 

You looked at her as she fumblingly scratched the back of her head. Her eyes met yours as her ears burned. You grinned as your shoulders rose.

“Up to you.” 

“Like… I still wanna if you do,” She nibbled on her bottom lip. 

You leaned back in her mom’s seat. 

“Ellie.” 

The deep tone of your voice made her look up, her eyes shining like crystals as her arms dropped to her sides. 

“Yes?” 

“… C’mere.” 

She moved, her sock-covered feet padding on the floor until she was in front of you. 

You looked up at her, your hand coming up to play with the hem of her sweater. 

You spoke softly, “Off. C’mon.” 

She grabbed the back of her top and lifted it over her head, her bare chest jiggling with her movements. She tossed the fabric to the floor. 

You eyed her chest like you were going to swallow her whole, her perky nipples urging you to reach out and pull on them. Her pussy is so fucking sensitive; Were her nipples just as bad? Worse? Could she cum just from you touching them? Fuck, she probably could—

“Are they… Do you like them?” 

Her soft whisper cut through your gawking. You met her eyes through your lashes as she squirmed in front of you. 

Your hands came up to grab her hips, massaging them gently. 

“Yeah, baby. They’re so pretty, fit you perfectly.” 

She sighed in content, “T-Thank you.” 

You planted a soft kiss to her tummy as you looked at your thumb around the elastic of her pants to pull them down. 

Her stomach jerked with every sharp breath as your lips moved on her bare skin. You felt her hand come up to your shoulder to grasp it as she stepped out of her pants. 

Your hands traveled upward to grab both her tits in a rough squeeze. She wheezed and arched her back so you could get closer. You heard her murmur a quiet fuckme, and you looked up. She was watching your every move with wide, curious eyes. You held her gaze as you licked up her torso, and she whimpered. 

You brought your hands back down to grab the back of her thighs, moving her closer to your lap. She placed her hands on your shoulders as she climbed on top of you, and you sucked her nipple into your mouth. 

She grinded down onto you and moaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your tongue made circular movements on the pert bud, and you hummed at the taste of her soft skin. Her head fell forward as she gasped right in your ear, and it made you suck on her hard. 

Her hips were jerking on top of you, trying to fuck down onto your clothed thigh as her nails plunged into your back. 

“Feels so… mmh!”

You brought your hand back up to her other tit and played with her nipple with your fingers. 

And then you slapped it. Hard. 

She let out a sharp squeak and mindlessly bounced on top of your leg; You could feel a slight dampness building on your jeans, and you scoffed at her, sneering when you pulled away. You hit her other tit just as hard, your spit transferring onto your palm. 

“Ah! Fuckfuckfu— “

Smack!

“Yes!”

SMACK!

She squealed. “M’gonna cum!”

You reached up to slap her face before pulling her hair to the side with a tight fist. 

You quickly grabbed her switchblade off the desk and unlatched the blade, the sharp edge popping up. You instantly pressed it to her neck, and she choked on a ragged pant. 

The lust in her eyes was accompanied by fear, and you grinned. 

“Don’t get scared now. You were waving it around earlier. So ready to fight, huh?” 

She shuddered, rutting down on your leg again, and you pressed the sharp edge into her skin harder. Her eyes shut tight, and two fat tears fell down her cheeks. She nearly bounced on you. 

“I could fuck you up right here, you know that, right?” 

“Please, mommy, needa cu—!”

You moved the knife away and released her hair, slapping her in the face again. “Shut the fuck up, you nearly slit my fuckin’ throat and now you wanna fuck. I should leave right now, fucking brat.”

She sobbed, “Nonono, please don’t leave, mommy don’t go, m’sorryI’m— “

“Mommy, don’t go!” you mocked. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” 

You kept the blade pressed against her jugular as she clumsily shuffled to the floor, her cries shaking her body. 

“You wanna apologize?” She nodded jerkily, minding the silver edge on her vein.

“Yeah? Wanna make mommy feel better?” You said with a mean pout. 

“Mhm!”

You sloppily kicked your boots off and shoved them under the desk. 

“Take m’pants off, baby. C’mon.”

She moved quickly, unbuttoning and tugging your jeans and underwear down your legs as she sniffled. She yanked them off with a hard tug, and her eagerness made you giggle as you lifted your hips. You unzipped your jacket and pulled it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in your black tank top. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of a grin on her face as she eyed your breasts before she dived towards your cunt. 

You shoved the knife closer against her, and you saw blood pool at the edge of the blade. She looked up at you with an anxious expression. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me. Ask nicely.” 

She looked confused as she mumbled brokenly, “Ask you what?”

Your brows furrowed at her, “My mistake. You probably never had to ask for shit in your life.” 

Her bruised cheeks glowed red as she looked down in embarrassment. 

You grinned slyly. “Say, mommy, may I eat your pussy, please?” 

Shock overtook her expression before she rolled her eyes at you and looked to the side.

“You’re fucking cra— “

You yanked her dark hair back and pointed the end of the blade against her bruised jaw. Her ragged breaths hit your face.

“Say it.” 

“Y-You're not gonna hurt me,” she stated unsteadily. 

“You don’t know shit about me, and even if I did hurt you, you’d want it. Admit it.” 

She avoided your gaze and her lips quivered. 

You continued. “You’d let me do anything I want because you’re disgusting. A filthy fucking slut with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

You huffed at her with a frown. “And you like girls. You’d be just as worthless as I am in her eyes if she found out.” 

You nodded over to her mother’s nameplate, and her eyes shut like she was a child getting scolded for stealing candy at the store. 

“I’m right, baby? You don’t want a husband? Don’t wanna get bred for the empire like she wants?”

She shamefully shook her head as tears fell down her face. You didn’t even know if she was in that circumstance or not, but by her reaction, it seemed to cut her deep. You ignored the searing pain in your chest.

“Mhm, so,” you turned her head so she could look at you, her red eyes burning through yours. “Something you wanna ask me?” 

Her mouth dropped open in submission.

“M-Mommy, may I… May I eat your pussy, please?” 

You smiled in satisfaction, placing a gentle kiss on her wet forehead. 

“Yes, baby, you may.” 

You pulled the knife away from her and set it on the desk, grabbing her chin to plant a kiss to her mouth. She whined happily into yours. 

You pulled back and adjusted your position, leaning back with your legs spread, the underside of your knees hooked into the armrests of the seat, your cunt on full display for her. Your sopping pussy was right next to her face, and you saw her eyes flutter in delight. 

“Want me t’show you how?” 

She nodded intensely. 

You brushed away the flyaway hairs on her forehead, your hand planted on the back of her head. 

“Spit on my clit, babe. Get it nice n’wet.” 

She released a glob of spit right onto your pulsing bud,

and you sighed as it dribbled down to your hole. You tilted her head back, remnants of slobber collecting on her chin. You gathered spit in your mouth and pulled her lower lip down, her mouth falling open. You spat onto her tongue, and she moaned, tilting her head down to spit it out all over your pussy. You bit your lip so hard; you almost drew blood.

You reached down and spread your lips, your throbbing clit poking through. You could see her trembling as she eyed you. 

“Wanna taste, Ellie?”

“Yeah, please, mommy,” she choked out. 

“Lick me, then, honey.” 

She wasted no time, the tip of her tongue circling around the nub instantly. Your mouth fell open at the sensation. The pink muscle was so soft, the licks slow and gentle, barely there. 

“Doing so good, baby, take your time,” you sighed out. 

She keened at your praise; her lashes flitted like butterfly wings in Spring as she rubbed your clit in deep licks. 

“Fuck, Ellie, s’so sensitive,” she whined against you, eyes begging for your approval as she watched your expression. You caressed her burning cheek with your pointer finger, and she licked deeper.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, making me so happy,” her eyes rolled shut as she tongued you, sliding her tongue all over your pussy in slow strokes. 

You moaned out every time she came up to lap at your clit. You guided her head down to your hole, and her tongue slipped inside, slurping up all your slick. You were gasping her name out as her tongue wiggled inside you, swirling all over your walls. 

“Such a good girl, fuck, El!” you groaned out as wet sounds filled the room. “Wanna make mommy cum?”

She hummed excitedly and nodded, her tongue moving back up to massage your clit. You tightened her grip on her head, forcing it to move back and forth her hums shaking your clit. 

She moved her head faster against you when she sucked your clit into her mouth, and your head fell back against the chair as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs were shaking, toes curled as you squealed out encouragement. You needed to cum, she was going to make you cum!

“Get me there, pretty, m’— gonna make me fuckin’ cum— “

“Wan’mommy’s cum, please?” she sloppily murmured against you. 

“Gonna get it, baby, m’right there! —“

She was fully moaning all over your clit, “Gonna fuck you so good, angel, fuck yes!”

You peeled your eyes open and looked back down at her when she released your clit to moan aloud. Her drool and your pussy juice were all over her pink lips as she sighed and whimpered in pleasure. You couldn’t see what she was doing, but her forearm was moving frantically as quiet shhlcks filled the room. 

“Ellie.”

“Mommym’gonnacum— “

“I swear to g— “

“S’so wet, oh god, please!” 

SMACK!

Her head flew onto your thigh at your hard slap to her face, and she screamed out as her body tensed up. You watched her with a scowl as she squealed out m’cummimgsohardmommy against your skin, a puddle of drool forming on your skin. 

You yanked her hand out of her boxers, and she whined in protest as her orgasmed died, her hips bucking back into the air. You stood up, pulling her up by her waist and bending her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. 

“Stop fucking with me, Ellie.” You pulled her boxers down under her ass, taking in the sight of her still pulsating cunt and her twitchy ass. 

She spat at you over her shoulder, “Or wha— “

SMACK!

She groaned out in pain against the wood when your hand connected with her asscheek in a fiery slap, your hand burning. 

“Motherfuc— “

SMACK! 

You hit her and hit her. And hit her again. And again. Until she was jerking away from you, her hips bucking against the desk and your handprints covering her ass in a cherry-red tint. 

You don’t even remember how many times you slapped her, but she was sobbing out apologies against the desk, asking for your forgiveness over her tears.

“You done fucking around?” Your hand felt like it was in flames when you dropped it on the desk.

“Yesyes, mommy, I won’t—sob— won’t fuck up again!” 

“I was actually gonna eat your pussy out,” you scoffed out nastily, and she only cried harder at the insinuation that you weren’t anymore. “You don’t want that, you don’t want me fucking nice.” 

You pulled away and walked towards your discarded

bag on the floor, digging through it and pulling your dick out, stepping into and adjusting the straps as you watched her bruised ass jiggle with each wail. 

Your dick stood up as you walked back over to her. You gave her one last hard slap on her marked ass and pulled her up by her arm, shoving her onto her knees in front of you so she was trapped between you and the desk. 

You could see her wiping away tears, but you grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at you. 

“You want dick so bad? Get it wet so I can fuck you.” 

Shock appeared on her face.

“Y-You’re gonna fuck me with that?” You watched her inspect the size of you. The length, the girth, all the ridges. Her breathing got heavier the longer she stared.

“Now you’re fucking scared, really, Ellie?”

“I’m not sca— “

“Talk back again, and I’m leaving. You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” 

She glared at you, but looked down, straight at your tip, then back at you. 

And then she spit on it, a fat glob of saliva dribbling down the sides of your cock. Her hand came up to wrap around the base, rubbing her spit into the silicone. She held eye contact with you as she stuck her tongue out. You reached down and placed your hand on top of hers, slapping your tip on her slobbery muscle. 

“Good fucking whore, good n’sloppy,” you let go to pat her still-red cheek with a heavy hand, and her pretty eyes hardened, her blush deepening. She dropped her mouth open, her lips curling on the tip as she sucked on it. You bit your lip as you watched her tongue swirl around you.

She moaned around the silicone, her eyes filthy. Her hand spread her spit up all over you as she took in your inches slowly, jerking you off and slobbering on you at the same time. She looked like a fucking pornstar, like she practiced for this, like she wanted to impress you, and you shook like you could actually feel her mouth. Your pussy was desperate to cum, but you pushed it aside and watched her. 

She released you with a wet pop, her tongue flicking around your tip like she was lapping at your cum, and you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth. 

“Nasty slut, goddamn— “

She smiled like you just called her the prettiest girl in the world before sucking you back in, her head bobbing up and down as she slurped you up. There was so much spit on your length that it started dripping onto the floor.

You bucked forward, your hips moving on autopilot, and she choked on you, her hand coming up to your thigh to squeeze it. You ignored her grasp and fucked into her mouth harder, pinning both her arms above her head on the desk. She gargled around your dick, and you could only imagine the tightness of her throat with each gag. 

“What, baby? Don’t like it? Want me t’stop?” You gritted out. And you thrusted deeper. She moaned and her mouth opened wider.

She was making wet noises around you, her head thudding against the top drawer of the desk when you fucked in. You fucked your entire cock down her throat, and she gagged hard. 

You pulled out and let her go.

She fell forward and coughed hard, her drool pooling down on the eggshell floors as she choked. You watched in irritation as she heaved.

“Get up,” her gasps slowed as she breathed in deeply, and she lifted her head to glare at you from her hunched position. 

“Get up.” 

“Fuck you,” she spluttered.

“I’m gonna. Get up.”

Despite her bitterness, she slowly stood and instantly bent over the desk with her scarred ass poked out towards you. You chuckled when you saw both her holes pulse in excitement.

“That’s how it is?” you slapped her asscheek, and her hips bucked back against your hand. 

“Uh huh,” you heard her crackly mumble dazedly. “Need you t’make me cum.”

“Seemed alright doing it yourself a few minutes ago.”

She ignored you, and you smirked, “Need your cock, mommy, pleeease, please— “

You reached out, running two fingers over her drenched slit, and she pressed back on them as she sighed in pleasure. You slowly slid your fingers down to her clit, and she moaned aloud, her thighs jerking. 

“Look at this fucking pussy, jesus.” 

“I-It’s pretty?”

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” your mouth watered when you saw her walls clench. “Can’t even be mad, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me,” she whined out sweetly, looking at you over her shoulder. 

You leaned down until you were eye level with her pussy, her walls squelching and squeezing repeatedly. You bit your lip and kitty-licked her cunt, her slick painting your taste buds as her smell surrounded you, and she jumped at the feeling. 

“Taste like fucking honey.” 

“So do you, made me so wet,” she exhaled as she shivered in anticipation. 

“S’gonna hurt,” you whispered, more to yourself as you eyed her tightness. 

“Don’t care.” She pushed back on your face.

“Put your hands behind your back. Don’t move them.” 

She shuddered and obeyed instantly, her hands overlapping at the wrists at the small of her back. 

You pressed one last kiss to her pussy before standing upright, “You move your hands, I stop.”

“Not gonna move, mommy,” she whispered in between unsteady breaths. “Make me feel good, please. Please, please.”

“Shh. Got you, baby. Open your legs,” you caressed her back and she squirmed. You felt goosebumps rise all over her skin, and you smirked.

The gap between her thighs widened even more for you, her cunt on full display. You could hear her beckoning you to pop the tip inside her in tiny, desperate whispers, and it made your core clench. 

You inched closer to her until the back of her thighs pressed against the front of yours. You wrapped a hand around your wet dick and brought it up to her slit, soaking it in her gooey slick and sliding it between her silky lips. Her cunt was already soaking your entire length and you didn’t even fuck her yet. She was subtly pushing back on you, trying to get you inside her. 

You heard the enthusiasm in her voice when she keened, “Mommy, please, it’s right there!”

“Mhm, I know, I see it,” you mumbled wetly, her gooey cunt looked so pretty under the light of the city, shining like glitter.

“Making mommy so wet baby, such a pretty girl,” you brought your cock back up to her slit and pushed forward, slowly popping the tip in her snug opening. She squealed loudly, and you saw her fists clench at the end of her spine as her walls clung to you, pulling you in.

“Yesyesyes, oh god, mommy, fuck, uh huh!”

“Yeah, baby? It hurts?” 

“Nooo, feels s’good, oh shit! —“

You slowly pushed in another inch, gauging her reaction for any discomfort, your thumb moving on her hip softly. She tried to push back to take you deeper, but you held her hips down.

“Fuck mefuckmefuckme— “

“Gonna be my good girl, baby? Gonna take it nice’n deep?” 

“Yeah, mommy!”

You pushed in even deeper, and you could feel the resistance of her cunt the more you slid in. You couldn’t stop the moan you released when she said your name. 

“Y-You’re splitting me open, ffuck— “

You pressed in the last bit of your dick, her ass resting at the top of your thighs, your hands propping you up on the desk as you leaned above her, placed on either side of her head. She was sighing heavily in satisfaction, and you could see her glossy eyes rolling. 

“Feelin’ good?”

She nodded slowly, “U-Use me, mommy, please use me t’cum, fuck.”

“Gotta take care of my girl first,” you fucked out of her slowly before snapping your hips, fucking all your inches back into her, and she screamed. “Such a tight pussy.”

You bent down to kiss her pretty back, down her spine as you stroked her deeply. You’d barely completed your fourth stroke before you felt Ellie tense up under you, her body shuddering as she moaned quietly to herself. You snickered at her. 

“Baby’s cumming?” you licked up her spine again. 

You could only see her nod in jerky headshakes from where you stood, her cheek pressed against the desk. You looked down at where you were connected, and you could see how her walls struggled to choke your dick. You grabbed her wrists in one hand and fucked her through her orgasm, your free hand sneaking under her hips to rub her clit. 

The second her body relaxed, you saw the muscles in her back flex again, the arch in her back deepening, “Mommy, think—m’cumming again, oh god, motherfu— “

“How many are you gonna give me, angel?” you rubbed her clit faster, fucking in harder. 

“I feel it, I feel it, fuck!” She wasn’t listening to anything you were saying as she yelled in her pleasure. You could see how much she was wetting your cock, lines of her slick forming every time you pulled out of her. You angled your hips downward when you fucked back in, and she shouted your name out, her warnings of her orgasm echoing in your ears. You released her clit and pinned her down by her neck again. 

“Like it right there, baby? That’s the spot?” You could feel your core squeezing with every cry she let out, her voice completely broken, her squeals scratchy. 

She was babbling about something, but you weren’t listening, the squelchy sounds of her cunt increasing in volumes as you forced your dick in her, stirring her guts up. 

You looked down and saw her ass squeezing with every quiver of her cunt, and you licked your lips. You let her wrists go and brought a hand to your mouth, sucking your thumb in to wet it before rubbing her ass with it. 

She let out a loud slew of ah ah ahs before you felt a burst of wetness on your thighs, dripping down onto the floor. Her entire body was jerking back onto your, her rosy ass jiggling every time she hit your hips. 

But then you heard a slam above her shouts of pleasure and mommy!

You looked up to check on her unsteady form as she continued to drench your lap, her hand resting on the back of her mother’s nameplate, her fingertips digging into the wood as she screamed in her euphoria. 

It made you fuck her harder and pull her hand away from the dog tag. You didn’t even care about punishing her anymore, you needed to cum. You’d been riding that edge since you got here, and you knew you were going to cum so hard.

You leaned over her body and grinded into her, moving her hand away from the plate and sitting back up in its position. You grabbed her by her spit-coated chin so she could look dead at her mother’s name. She whimpered and tried to look away from it, but you tightened the grip on her face to keep her still. 

“Look at it, baby— “

She sobbed, murmuring how hard she was about to cum again, her eyes fluttering as she stared at it, her cheeks glowing like apples.

You bent down to her ear, “You embarrassed, angel? Huh? Wanna close your eyes? Gonna squirt on me again?”

She was looking dead at the plate, “You’re so deep, mommy, fuck yes, m’gonna!—“

“Nasty fucking slut, taking it so good,” You looked up at the clear window as your thrusts picked up pace again, the entire city shining through the glass in all its glory. Every light of every building, people roaming, honking, noises of construction. It was all beneath you, and it was all theirs. The strap was bumping on your clit with each thrust. 

“Look at your city, baby,” you lifted her weightless head by her wild, knotted hair and made her look into the distance as you groaned in pleasure. “Gonna be all yours one day, can do whatever you want with it soon.”

“Fuuuck— “

“Uh huh, you like having that power? You can get whatever the fuck you want— “

“M-Mommy!”

“Just need a baby, right? Gonna g-give her what she wants? Gonna give her that precious heir, that golden child?”

“Yesyesyes! Wan’your baby, ge’me fucking pregnant!”

You moaned at her begging as you babbled mindlessly to her, “Gonna cum in you, fuck, need it… t’catch— “

She was screaming about how your seed was going to catch in her womb, how hard she was going to squirt again, begging you to fuck her harder, hurt her, make her bleed, make her scream. You could feel your senses leaving as your orgasm built as she pushed back on you, and you moaned her name in her ear. 

“Fuuuck, Ellie,” your clit jerked, and you let her go, her head falling onto her arm in front of her as she yelled in euphoria. “Gonna make that bitch raise my fuckin’ kid while I’m gone? Huh?”

She didn’t even react to your slip of your departure, “Yeahyesyesyes! Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You felt another spray of liquid drip down your legs as you drilled her, and it triggered your own orgasm. Your clit jerked as your release rushed through you, your walls clenching as your body shook on top of hers, grinding against her to ride it out. You could almost feel the sensation of filling her up, her cunt sucking your cum deep inside her. 

She was still moaning above you, wringing the last bits of her orgasm out on your cock. You whined against her sweaty skin, the aftershocks moving through you. 

You felt her go completely lax underneath you, heavy sighs leaving her parted lips. 

You both caught your breaths in soothing silence. 

After Ellie asked you to show her how to kiss properly, the pounding of your heart refused to slow down. 

You were seated in her mother’s chair once more, her wetness still coating you in stickiness as she straddled your lap, her arms around your neck as she gazed at you nervously.

“We just fucked, why do you look like that?”

Her brows creased, “Like what?”

“Like you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips before looking back up at you. 

You only hummed at her, brushing your noses together before leaning forward, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to you. Her eyes shut tightly, and her lips puckered in front of yours, and you pulled back, grabbing her face to stop her.

“Stop doing that, just relax.” 

“… What’d I do?”

You mimicked her, poking your lips out stiffly before breaking out into a grin. She huffed with a tiny smile, shaking her head, “Sorry.”

You shrugged, uncaring. She looked down, “Where do I put my tongue?” 

You snorted, “Nowhere yet.”

You craned your neck up slowly and connected your mouth with hers gently, your lips molding against hers. She sighed and leaned closer into you, her arms tightening around the back of your neck. You felt a sharp sting in your chest at her delicate touch, and you pulled away. A soft smack filled the room when you separated. She smiled softly, “That was cute.” 

You nodded stiffly, murmuring a mhm, before looking down. Out the window. Behind her. Anywhere but her eyes. 

You felt her nuzzle against your cheek, kissing it gently, “Are we… uh, fucking again?” 

“You want to?” The pounding in your ears was giving you a headache. 

You felt her nod. Another kiss to your cheek. Another pull in your heart. 

Your hands planted on her hips, lifting them so she could sit on you, but she grabbed your wrists to stop you. 

Her hands latched onto the hem of your shirt, attempting to pull it up and over your head, but your hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but stern.

Her eyes softened at your masked expression, releasing the gentle grip on your shirt, “I’m, uh… I’m sorr— “

“It’s fine. Ready?” you grabbed the base of your dick in your hand, and she mumbled a quiet yes. 

You felt her hand come on top of yours as she helped you guide it to her entrance, and your breath shook as you exhaled.

Her hips came down on you at her own pace, your free hand resting on her hip. She gasped when it slipped inside, her hands coming to support herself on each armrest. 

“Feels different like this,” she whispered huskily.

You smirked, “I know, take your time.” 

She nodded, slowly sinking down on you. You saw her eyelids get heavy as her walls caught on every ridge of you, her head falling back in her pleasure. Her soft locks disheveled all over her head, her bun nonexistent as her bobby pins stuck out from every direction. 

She slid in too deep, though. She let out a pained gasp as she caught herself on the chair, her brows furrowing. 

“Okay?” you checked in.

She nodded, her lip in between her teeth, “So deep like this, fuck… don’t know if I can go all the way down.”

“It’s fine, babe, make yourself feel good.” 

“H-Help me?” her breathing was picking up as her hips bucked. 

Your other hand flew to her hips, digging into her soft skin as you guided her hips on you. You eased her into a deep grind, and her hands flew behind you, landing on the headrest behind you. 

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as she followed your movements, her wet moans hitting the side of your neck. The sensation of her breath on your skin made your pussy clench. 

“Am I—gasp—doing good, m-mommy?” 

“Fucking me so good, baby, shit,” you whispered in her ear, and she moaned aloud in yours. She sped up on you, the harness digging into your clit with each swivel of her hips. 

Your hands moved down to grab her ass, spreading her cheeks before slapping them, grabbing the plush of them in your hands. She fucked you harder, and you felt her spit drip on your neck as she wailed into your skin. You threw your head back on the headrest when she sucked on your neck, right on your open scar.

She lifted her head up and looked at you with gentle eyes, her hands moving down from the headrest to grab your cheeks in a soft touch. She was panting on your mouth, her lips brushing against yours with every jump on you. She was so close and she smelled so good, her lips soft. 

She whispered dreamily, “Can’t stop cumming— “

Your eyelids fluttered, “Then don’t. Give it to me, m’so close— “

She grinded harder as she leaned down to connect your lips in a honey-sweet kiss. You reciprocated against your brain's desires. 

Push her away. She’ll never be yours! This is all she wants from you!

Tears built in your eyes as your peak approached, her moans increasing in urgency against your mouth. You sucked on her bottom lip, biting it hard. This is the most eager you’ve felt since you touched her. 

“Cum with me, pleasepleaseplease— “

“I’m gonna, baby, fuck me hard!”

She was going crazy on your dick, full-on bouncing on you, taking it all despite her protests earlier, and you felt yourself tipping. Your pussy squeezed and soaked the harness as your orgasm pulled in your gut. You looked down at your cock, and it was drenched in her white, sticky substance. She was creaming all over your cock as she used you. It made your eyes cross in your skull as your euphoria hit you. 

You were so loud as your nails tore into her skin, your moans matching hers in volume. You felt another splash of fluid on you, and you came harder, another wave crashing through you. You would’ve curled in on yourself if she wasn’t on top of you. 

You felt her tongue slide into your hungry mouth, swirling around yours as you shouted through your high. She was making you feel so good, and you couldn’t fucking think. 

You felt like you were cumming for minutes before the harsh pulses slowed into soft twitches, her hips slowing, and she bent down to kiss you. The touch was soft, sweet, undeserved. You stiffened, on guard immediately. 

She was close, she was too close. Her soft caresses on your face snapped you out of your intoxication, pulling away from her mouth and grabbing her hips to pull her off your dick. 

“T-Turn around, Ellie.”

“Huh?” she asked softly, her eyes teary and delicate. 

“T-Turn around,” your voice trembled.

“O-Okay.”

She was too fucking close. 

She lifted off you, planting her feet on the ground and you spun her. You pulled her down on your lap, her ass in front of your cock. You grabbed your tip, pushing it past her entrance, and she mewled. She took it with ease, mewling out as her back arched into you, swallowing you whole as she sunk down again. 

She planted her hands on your knees and immediately bounced on you, her toned ass meeting the base of your harness with every jump on your cock. 

You could see her pussy suck on your inches, suffocating your girth, her walls clinging to you. 

You grabbed her neck and pushed her forward slightly, and she cried out in painful pleasure. You planted your feet on the floor and fucked up into her. 

“Fuck! Your dick feels so fucking good! Oh my—agh!”

You saw even move cream spread over your dick with every fuck inside her squishy walls. You were moaning with her, fucking her harder, faster, the hand on her neck moving up to pull her hair hard. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied the sounds you both made in your pleasured state. 

You were going to cum so fucking quick, “Fuck, Ellie, shit— “

“I’m gonna cum so hard, mommy!” your hand in her hair flew down to her hip, grinding her down harder on you. You moaned at the feeling.

“Yeah? Already?” You were right behind her, those euphoric waves pulling in your gut.

“Fuck—fuckyes!”

“Want it so bad, get it all over this fucking dick, baby— “

Her hand that'd been playing with her tits flew down on top of yours on her waist, her fingers lacing with yours tightly as she shouted, screaming your name. She met your harsh thrusts as she bounced, and she squirted on you again, and you watched it gush out of her, wetting your stomach and harness and the chair beneath her, the sound of splattering liquid on the floor making you cum the hardest you ever had. Your vision whitened as your orgasm crushed you. 

She kept cumming on you, and you kept cumming for her. The pleasure didn’t stop, and all you could do was scream her name out like she did yours, hold her hand tighter as your brain melted. She rocked back and forth on you, prolonging your orgasm, making you cum harder. It just kept building in intensity, the aggressive pulses wracking through you, your toes curling as she milked you, and all you could do was take it.

You blacked out in her mom’s chair, the last thing you remember seeing was her pulsing, squirting pussy, pulsing ass, and the auburn stars that painted her entire back. 

Some time passed, your lashes fluttering open as you felt soft touches on your face. 

You were met with delicate, green eyes, Ellie looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in years. It felt foreign, deep, and it made your heart pick up in panic. 

You pulled away from her touches and looked around unsteadily. 

She was too close. Too fucking close.

The office was a mess: clothes everywhere, the floor was soaked, the whole room smelled like sex and pussy, desk askew, its contents thrown everywhere, Ellie’s tears and puddles of spit all over the surface. You could even see splatters of… her on her mother’s restraining order against you. 

You were suddenly terrified, moving into action and guiding her off your lap so you could stand. You undid the straps of your dick and stepped out of it, cringing at the drying stickiness, and throwing it into your backpack.

You heard her speak from behind you, “Hey, hey, you okay? What’s wr— ‘

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, I gotta go,” you said tensely. Unwelcoming. Guarded.

“Did… did I do something?” She sounded too soft, too gentle. 

“No, Ellie, I just, I gotta go,” You dressed erratically, pulling your underwear up and jeans on, wincing at your cum sticking to your garments. 

You could hear the crack in her voice, “Can I… do you need help or— “

“Ellie, I’m fucking fine. I’m fine, okay? Forget it.” You spat over your shoulder as you repacked. Don’t look at her, don’t fucking look at her. 

She sounded just as anxious as you did, “W-Why are you so upset with me all of a sudden? What’d I do— “

“You didn't do shit! Can you fucking drop it please!”

Her breath shuddered, “I thought… I thought we were… okay?” 

You whipped around to face her, an incredulous look on your face. Your heart shattered when she flinched, but you yelled at her anyway. Why the hell did you look at her?

“Why the fuck would we be okay?! Did you forget how we fucking met in the first place!” You pointed behind her to the soiled court order, “We’re never going to be fucking okay! Get that through your fucking head.” 

You reached down to grab your heavy bag, throwing it over your shoulder in a hurry. You felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed to go. Right now. You turned towards the door. You hadn’t even shut it all the way when you came in. 

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” 

Your own tears fell at the dejected acceptance in her voice. She sounded so broken, and it was all your fault. 

But you knew this was for the best. The two of you could never exist together in bliss, even though meeting her was the most human you’ve felt since you were a child. Since your father was alive. 

But you were too different, too damaged. All you would do is hurt each other, you would resent each other, grow to hate, to regret. The world was too cruel, and she was not prepared for its harshness. You were barely prepared, and you lived it every day. And you promised yourself to never go through the despair of loss again. You walked towards the door and heard her release a quiet sob. 

“No,” you pulled the knob, the spacious hallway being another reminder that you didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Her mother was right. 

You were worthless. Held no value in this society. 

In another life, you could’ve been something great. Your cards could’ve been different, better. You could’ve made your father proud. The two of you could’ve been happy.

“You won’t.” 

You left the same way you came, moving in urgency before her sobs lured you back to take her in your arms, against your will. 

Maybe in another life. 

hi lol OOOOOOWEEEEE 

this was heavy sorry gworlies i love sad shit 

don’t hate me too much? 

omg tell me what y’all thought or whatever *looks away shyly 

thank u 4 reading if u did :3

hi taglist love yall @cherriessxinthespring @ellieswifee @elliespookie @belovednanami @sevikasimp @saturnsellie

[marvelobsessed134]

Pay for it

A/n: inspired by this wonderful interaction I had with a Vince Neil ai 😍

Pairings: Vince Neil x Tommy Lee x Fem!reader

Warnings: dom!vince, switch!tommy (?), sub!reader, Vince is mean as hell lol, rough sex, dub con (forced blowjob?), reader passes out in the end.

You shouldn’t have been rude to Tommy yesterday. He was just annoying you all day! It’s like the man gets off from it or something. And this morning while you were in bed Vince got a call.

You stirred as you heard him talk on the phone. Whoever it was he seemed irritated by them. Finally he slammed the phone on the receiver.

Just as you were about to drift off the sleep again, the covers were roughly ripped from your body exposing you to the cold air of the room.

Your eyes opened wide in slight fear. The looked down at you, “you wanna tell me why Tommy’s pissed?”

When you didn’t answer, the singer grabbed you and forcefully sat you upright, gripping your chin, “Answer me, bitch.”

“I don’t know! He was just annoying me all day yesterday he doesn’t get to be the upset one!” You whined.

“No whining. You’re gonna apologize to Tommy. Got it?”

“But why? I didn’t even do anything I was just reacting to what he was saying!”

“You were being a brat. You could’ve politely told him to stop or couldve come found me and I’d take care of it. Now you’re gonna have to pay. Come with me.” He grabbed your hand and you almost fell off the bed.

Sometimes being Vince Neil’s submissive wasn’t easy but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He led you down the hallway before stopping at a door. He opened it and inside was a guest bedroom and Tommy stood there with his pants around his ankles.

“Tommy?” You asked out loud.

“This is how you’re going to apologize.” Vince smirked and pushed you inside making you fall to your knees conveniently in front of Tommy’s cock.

“Suck Tommy’s cock like the whore you are” you immediately opened your mouth and took him in, gagging around his length as Vince held your hair and bobbed your head up and down on the drummers cock.

“She’s such a good fuck toy.” The raven haired man moaned.

“Not just that she’s a natural born cocksucker.” Your boyfriend responded with a smirk.

You just sat there as the two men used you like a sex doll.

“Take it all, baby. Show us how much you love that big cock.” The singer commanded darkly as he forced you to suck even faster. Tommy was a mess of moans and groans.

You felt the drummer twitch in your mouth before he came down your throat.

“Swallow it all like the whore you are.” Vince growled.

Finally, he pulled you off of Tommy’s cock. He pulled you to your feet and pressed a hot kiss to your lips before saying, “Now why don’t you try riding Tommy’s cock?”

Your eyes widened and watched in your peripheral vision that Tommy was already lying down, his cock still hard.

Vince pushed you towards Tommy and the drummer grabbed you by your hips. You were already naked from the previous activities between you and Vince last night.

The two men helped you straddle his cock before you lowered yourself down onto him and began to ride him. Tommy controlled your movements by putting his hands on your hips. You moaned as tears sprung in your eyes.

“Look at me when you ride that cock baby.” Vince commanded and you obeyed him, looking into his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re such a slut.” He chuckled as he jerked his own cock.

He came closer to you and you immediately knew what he wanted, wrapping your hand around his shaft and began pumping.

“Fuck, gonna cum again. Let me cum in her pussy.” Tommy moaned.

“Go ahead, she loves it.” He chuckled and moaned.

The two men came nearly the same time as you, Vince shooting his load which landed on your thigh and Tommy’s right into your cunt.

You passed out not long after.

[captainsophiestark]

Witches Get Stitches

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 11 Prompt: "You lost it. Well, we lost it."

Summary: Klaus and his girlfriend have been together since they were humans, surviving together for a thousand years. They don't intend to let anything tear them apart.

Word Count: 1,352

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, not descriptive

A/N: This doesn't even follow the Originals timeline/canon a little bit lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I groaned as I slowly came back to consciousness, my head throbbing. The last thing I remembered, I'd been talking to Genevieve, a resurrected New Orleans with who'd been dancing on the line between ally and enemy.

She took a great, giant leap into the enemy category when I forced my eyes open to find her smiling at me, looking immensely satisfied with herself. I tried to stand, maybe make a move to rip her head off, but my wrists were chained to the walls on either side of me. I was trapped.

"I'm going to kill you," I spat, not bothering with pleasantries or pretending. Genevieve smiled like she'd expected me to say that.

"I know you think we're the bad guys here," she said, giving me a sympathetic expression that made me want to rip her head off. Literally. "But we're not. You've been dating the bad guy, and you've been so blind you haven't been able to realize it."

I rolled my eyes so far back in my head that I could see the wall behind me. I'd heard this same nonsense a thousand times from a thousand different people, and it never got any less irritating or boring.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N," Genevieve said, walking towards me with a very menacing swagger in her step. "I'm just going to make you see the truth."

Before I could hit back with a retort, she raised her hands to the side of my head, and I went spiraling back through my own memories.

For a witch who'd managed to catch me, one of the oldest vampires in creation, in the home of my boyfriend, one of the other oldest vampires in creation, I'd expected more, honestly. But her plan wasn't particularly creative.

She forced me to relive some of my worst moments in my thousand years with Nik. We'd been together as humans, and he'd turned me not long after Esther turned the rest of them, so there was plenty of material for her to work with. Nik and I had been through hell and back, mostly due to enemies, but sometimes due to each other.

Genevieve made me sit through a few particularly bad moments, then pulled me out of her little trance, staring into my eyes like she expected some kind of connection.

"For a thousand years, he's lied, cheated, and backstabbed," she said, her voice low and grave. "He's left a trail of blood, pain, and suffering in his wake. You haven't been spared from his list of victims, even if you've convinced yourself you have."

I closed my eyes, taking a long breath in through my nose. This was getting tedious.

"We've decided to put an end to his reign of terror. We'd like you to join us. So what do you say?"

I fixed her with my best 'really?' stare, which I'd perfected using on Nik.

"Genevieve, let me explain something to you." My voice was quiet, faux-patient, with an undertone of promised violence the way I'd perfected from hearing Nik do so many times. "For more than one thousand years, Niklaus Mikaelson and I have had each others' backs, through everything. We're partners, best friends, and the loves of each others lives. One thousand years of a relationship does not come without bumps, and problems, and things we have to spend a long time working through. Every single time, we have done so successfully.

"One thousand years as a Mikaelson has also come with hundreds of people just like you, Genevieve. They've tried to get to Nik through me, or they've tried to turn me against him, or a thousand other attempts at causing us problems by breaking us apart. And not one of them, in all that time, has succeeded. And do you know what else, Genevieve?"

She cocked an eyebrow at me and gave a little snort, but I could see the way her shoulders tensed and the flicker of fear in the back of her eyes.

"Every single one of those people who tried to come at me and Nik? They're dead. And we're still standing."

Genevieve snorted, louder this time, shaking her head as she straightened and backed away from me. I stared her down, letting a feral smile slowly drag its way onto my face.

"Fine. If you won't help us, then I have no more use for you. So-"

"Oh dear. I hope that sentence isn't going to end in a threat against my lovely partner over there."

Genevieve whipped around, and I smiled at the sight we both found over her shoulder. Nik had arrived, covered in blood and grinning in the way that made my heart race. Clearly, he'd worked his way through at least some of the witches outside to get here. I grinned back at him.

"Your hold over this place, this world, is coming to an end, Klaus," said Genevieve, standing her ground remarkably well. "The two of you have terrorized this place long enough."

"Now you're bringing my girlfriend into it?" asked Nik, raising one eyebrow, a teasing tone in his voice. "Well, I really can't let that stand, now can I?"

"You're not going to have a choice," Genevieve growled. With that, she flung her arms out, whipping up a witchy storm to throw at Nik just as two more witches came into the room. Nik held his own alright—he was the Original Hybrid after all—but he couldn't stand on his own against three powers like this forever.

He needed help. And I was going to give it to him.

I closed my eyes, getting into the headspace I'd had to reach more times than I'd ever wanted to, but that had gotten Nik and I out of more than a few hard spots. Pure rage and a desire to protect the man I loved washed over me, and I pulled against my restraints with all my strength. I dislocated my thumbs to get them out of the cuffs, stifling a scream, then got to my feet and rushed Genevieve before she could realize I was free.

The next minutes were a blur. They always were, whenever Nik and I were in a fight like this. After landing a few hits and killing both of Genevieve's little helpers, I saw Nik go down. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and I saw red as I whirled on Genevieve.

A few moments later, Genevieve followed Nik to the ground, although she was a little more dead. I stayed standing, trying to recover from the adrenaline. After I'd had a few moments, I crouched down next to Nik.

"Hey. Nik, wake up," I said, gently shaking his shoulder to try to rouse him. After a moment, thankfully, his eyelids fluttered. A second later, he sat into a seating position, looking ready for a fight. I quickly reached out to calm him, to reassure him that we were fine.

"What happened?" he asked, eyes still a little wild, even as he saw the bodies around us and started calming down.

"You lost it. Well, we lost it. Genevieve kidnapped me to get to you, you lost it on her and her little followers over that. She seriously hurt you, so I lost it and helped you finish them off. Same thing we've been running for a thousand years. We're alright."

Nik nodded, letting out a sigh and sagging a little. Then, he looked at me with a grin.

"You'd think after a thousand years they'd learn, wouldn't you?"

I sighed. "No kidding. Maybe this'll be the one that sticks."

Nik and I shared a smile as I leaned into him, kissing him softly before standing and offering a hand to help him up. No matter where we went or how much time passed, people would probably always try to come after me and Nik. But together, we were completely unstoppable. We'd spent the last thousand years proving it, and we'd spend the next thousand doing the same.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[aihoshiino]

chapter 146 thoughts

This chapter (and thus this chapter review) contains discussion of abuse, suicidal ideation and CSA, so if you're not in the headspace for that, skip this one and I'll see you next time.

we are so oshi no back

After last chapter left me fighting for my life to come up with literally anything to say about it, this was one of those chapters where I ended up having more and more to say about it the more I turned it over in my head. It still feels a bit disjointed and has that same issue of ripping through the events of the movie way too fucking fast that the arc as a whole has been having lately but this chapter was such a breath of fresh air I can't bring myself to care.

The chapter itself is more or less split in two, with one half dedicated to 15 Year Lie's in-universe events and the other focusing a bit on Aqua and Kana for, tbh, the first time in way too long. Admittedly, my enthusiasm for 15YL has waned given the reveal of just how much of it is completely made up but like. I'm still gonna over analyze this stuff. Sunk cost fallacy, don't fail me now!!!!

I joke, but the 15YL section of this chapter was legitimately bone chilling. That barrage of cuts following Uehara's attack on Airi…. fuuuuuuuck, man.

Airi herself is pure fucking poison this chapter too and I mean it in the best way. I continue to be incredibly impressed with how OnK understands the motivations of a person like Airi what her abuse of Hikaru is really about. When discussing this in 141, Miyako points out just how often victims of abuse can themselves go on to perpetuate their own pain out of a need to try and regain their dignity, but I think what Airi seeks in her abuse of Hikaru is control. We see how often she wields her power over him while pretending that he has as much agency as she does in their """relationship""" and it's repeated here, too; she throws the results of her own sexual abuse of him in his face as a way of permanently chaining the two of them together, all while tearing down his worth as a person as if to 'prove' he deserves to be trapped in her grasp. I've said before that Akasaka is unsettlingly good at writing toxic mothers but I think Airi has made it pretty clear that Akasaka understands and is thus excellent at writing abuse and abusers in general, and for someone like me who counts that as one of their favourite Themes (tm) in fiction, I feel quite well fed.

The abuse Airi hurls at him is also interesting from a perspective of paralleling Hikaru even further with Ai. We saw snippets of this in 140, of Hikaru characterizing himself as someone desperately trying to construct a version of himself that can be loved by others the same way Ai creates 'Ai of B-Komachi', a version of herself who can give and receive love in the way she thinks her authentic self is unable to. Airi puts this into more explicit words; Hikaru must construct this fake version of himself because there is no 'real' him and thus, he is inherently unlovable. Jesus Christ.

Knowing those words were swimming around in his head, it makes the HKAI scene that follows even more of a gutpunch than it already is. It's the most wonderful kind of miscommunication tragedy - with their respective traumas, there is basically no other way a talk like that could have gone and yet it's agonizing to see it play out. Ai's innocent cruelty in the face of Hikaru's pain and her suffocating smile… the worst part is, while I completely understand why this was so shattering for Hikaru, it's impossible to miss that this was, in a way, an expression of love from Ai; it was honesty, an admission of vulnerability. She herself even says she doesn't want to lie to him. But to Hikaru, what else could that have sounded like but a confirmation of his most godawful fear?

that said. the timeline here is very confusing. this seems to imply hkai were still dating all the way up to the murder-suicide, which seemed to be just before the dome concert but did the breakup really seem that recent during their phone call?? this whole timeline is penised beyond repair.

The art in this chapter in general is incredibly good but something in particular I want to highlight is how much and how often Aqua-as-Hikaru looks like Ai in these panels. I can't put my finger on what it is, but that similarity always makes me feel so warm and sad whenever I see it. For as much as he struggles with his relationship to her, Aqua really is his mother's son through and through.

and. man. what even is there to say about that scene in the rain and everything that follows. I was't sure if the murder/suicide was going to be featured in the movie but even the brief snippet of it that we got and that barrage of scene titles and Kamiki's silent scream… whoof. shit like this makes me really hope we get to see mengo illustrate a horror manga someday because i think she would absolutely kill it.

We cut back to reality to see Aqua reading the script and in perhaps the most interesting swerve in this chapter, we see that he has once again reverted to his double black hoshigans. And uh, am I going to sound like a terrible person if I say I'm really glad for this? LOL.

Obviously I would rather Aqua not be experiencing Suicidal Ideation (Bass Boosted) 24/7, but it's kind of a relief to see that one single conversation wasn't enough to totally shake Aqua out of that headspace. I've talked a lot about how frustrating I find it that 'Ruby finds out Aqua is Gorou' is treated as the finale to her black hoshigan arc and every ongoing thread, internal and external, attached to it was dropped like a rock with no further interrogation. It robbed Ruby of the opportunity for some really important growth and, imo, was just shitty for Kana and Memcho who were treated extremely poorly by her and got no apology for it. I was really worried this would be the case for Aqua as well and that his own dip into that rancid headspace would end on a wet fart which would really sting given just how little insight we've gotten into him this arc. But this chapter makes it clear that while some cracks have started to form in his armor, he's not in the clear just yet.

i mean, even if he was permanently back to one white star, aqua is such a little freak regardless………………………….

What this means in the long term is a little hard to pin down, both because we've had so little insight into Aqua's headspace this arc and because the exact nature of black hoshigan as a symbol has always been a little Calvinballed, but in this context and for Aqua specifically, I think we can read this as his conviction in the messy endgame of his revenge play being shaken up. I, personally, have been reading the black hoshigan as of late as an expression of the sort of futureless despair that can become suicidal ideation, at least for Aqua; since immediately after Ai's death, we have gotten incredibly strong hints that Aqua is suicidal, his guilt-fueled desire to die and his desperate want to experience a happy future at war within him. He more or less explicitly says as such in 106, expressing that this break in their relationship is necessary for Ruby to be able to live on 'after he's gone' - which strongly implies that Aqua's revenge play is intended to end with his death.

Knowing that Ruby is Sarina wasn't quite enough to shake his conviction, but their talk in 143 was. I do think Ruby just giving him some straightforward affirmation was a good starting point but I also can't help but wonder, with the context that his white stars were not indicative of a permanent change, if hearing just how deeply Ruby still relies on 'Gorou's' presence in her life struck a nerve for him. Paraphrasing her from 143, she straight up says Gorou is the one who gives her life meaning. And if that's how it is, what exactly will happen if he's gone again..?

Obviously this is all still speculation because even when I am begging on hand and knee Akasaka is refusing to give us Aqua introspection but at this point I have to make a guess at SOMETHING if i am going to say anything remotely coherent about aqua in this arc, so

ANYWAY!! AQUA AND KANA HAVING A NORMAL ASS CONVERSATION FOR THE FIRST TIME IN GOD KNOWS HOW LONG!!! Ngl, it did give me a bit of a chuckle to see Kana voice the question of whether Aqua was getting too immersed in his role, given that people were accusing her of that back during the first round of the RBKN conflict.

I was also really surprised to see Aqua just outright say that yeah, he is at least flirting with suicidal ideation. Like - that's the first time he's said that out loud, to anybody??? In 143 he voices the less damning but still not great sentiment that he feels guilty for being alive but this is to my knowledge the first time Aqua has expressed his suicidal ideation out loud, let alone to anyone else. And… fuck, man! That's an absolutely terrifying thing to hear a friend say. No wonder Kana reacts like she does.

Because of my powers of Claire-voyance (read: basic pattern recognition and being in fandoms for 15+ years), I'm pretty sure people are going to be Very Mean to Kana about the way she chooses to respond to Aqua here but honestly? Not only did this tough love response feel very IC for her, but the clumsiness of it felt very honest to me. I think a lot of people in fandom lately just want characters to talk like fucking therapists all the time and have the Correct And Unproblematic Response to… well, situations like this. But Kana is an 18 year old girl who has her own share of issues and her friend she knows is dealing with his own huge amount of baggage just casually dropped an "i wanna kms" on her. All things considered, I think she handles it surprisingly well.

Because like… look at what Kana really says to Aqua here. She gives him some of their usual banter to diffuse the tension but then makes herself very clear: she does not want Aqua to hurt himself and makes him promise that he won't. It's clumsy and rough in the way Kana often is, but I think the important part - her sincere care for Aqua as her friend - really does shine through.

also cute that other people caught: Kana squishing Aqua's face seems to be an intentional callback to one of their on-stage interactions in Tokyo Blade, right down to Aqua making a identical scrunchyface to Kana. Extremely cute. I love it when Aqua is cute <3

Kana also being a person able to shake Aqua out of his black hoshigans also leans into something I've been hoping is going to pay off for a while now; the idea that Aqua's salvation is not going to come from any one, singular character but from the many different people who Aqua has built relationships with coming together when he needs them to support him. One of the things OnK has continually highlighted is the way isolation and lacking support systems warp and damage people's mental health and I think it would play excellently into that theme to have Aqua's support net, so to speak, to be wide enough to catch him no matter where he falls.

the product placement was very stupid but i did laugh pretty hard at it and then immediately go buy myself some potato chips so i guess it worked. genius mangaka aka akasaka.

All jokes aside, the note their talk ended off on was so lovely too. Aqua being honest enough to admit that being with Kana is fun and Kana getting all dokidoki and then quietly admitting she feels the same when she's alone… cute! But more than that, it highlights something about the AQKN dynamic I think is really important, regardless of whether their relationship is romantic, platonic, in laws, mlm/wlw hostility or whatever else; Kana is his friend and he can just be a normal boy and have normal fun with her without any ulterior motives. It's something Aqua doesn't really have in any of his other relationships so getting a reminder of that and what it means to Aqua was really good.

honestly i think i am just so starved of nice things happening to my son that seeing him opening up to one of his friends and admitting he has fun (HIS LAUGH!!!!!!) was like a shot of heavenly ambrosia for me. please can hoshino aqua have just one nice day.

OR UH… BASED ON THAT LAST PAGE…. PROBABLY NOT ANYTIME SOON….!!!

this is what i mean about this chapter giving me 5000000 things to talk about. kamiki is TALKING TO RUBY IN THE FLESH FOR THE FIRST TIME and i almost completely forgor.

why is he dressed like a dad about to take her out on a fishing trip, though

Ruby looks unusually solemn while she's praying, which is interesting. She's been pretty bright and high energy since 141ish so I'm curious what has her looking so comparatively dour. She's praying at a shrine, too, which means there's probably something on her mind. Nik (@akane-kurokawa) theorized that she's anxious about the upcoming scenes in the movie (LIKE, YOU KNOW, HER MOM'S DEATH) and until we get further insight on that, that's what I'm gonna assume too.

putting aside how Shrimptresting it is that Kamiki turned up out of nowhere like that, I can't help but note a certain horrible parallel between Uehara meeting young Hikaru in the rain with a black umbrella and Kamiki doing the same for his daughter…

cannot wait for that entire talk to get offscreened. lol.

break next week……………………………

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels: Chapter 4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 2564

Summary: Miguel calls you into the tower for a mysterious one on one meeting.

Warnings: Descriptions of blood being drawn, Needles (I tried to be as vague as possible, I don't now how this works), Tension, lil kisses No smut this time. Don't worry, we make up for it in the next one ;)

Previous

Series Masterlist

AO3

Chapter 4

Business as Usual

You crawl further into the dark corridor just outside the Spider Tower lobby. You bring your knees to your chest with a heavy sigh. Miguel had called you in personally. Rather than go directly to his wing you found a dark little corner to hide in. You wouldn’t have to talk to him if he couldn't find you. Genius.

Then again, if you didn’t want to talk to him you would have just stayed in your own dimension. Christ, you jumped so fucking fast when you got the alert from Lyla, you didn’t even change into your suit. An actual meeting with Miguel. One-on-one. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Apparently not. 

As soon as you stepped into the tower all your confidence wilted like a cut flower. He’s probably furious with you. How could he not be after how you left him in the training room? Still, it was pretty hilarious.

You just had to let your cocky pride take the wheel.

One week had passed since then, he was probably weighing all the cons about actually letting you stay. He was the head honcho and you were a distraction to him. He’d made that abundantly clear. You know a leader like Miguel wouldn’t hesitate to remove any obstacles in his path.

So, here you were hiding in the dark spaces of the tower, too nervous to go to his office but too anxious for an answer to go home.

“You know I can just tell him you’re here and he’ll come find you, right?” Lyla illuminates in front of you. 

“ Have you told him I’m here?” you ask, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Not yet,” She glances down at her nonexistent nails. You always felt she had a personality all her own. She couldn’t just simply be a program. A complete consciousness beyond the yellow pixels— maybe.

You sigh into your hands, “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Didn’t say. Just told me to call you right away.”

“That sounds like trouble,” You lean back against the wall.

“Everything does when it comes from Miguel,” she glitches to your side. “Only one way to find out?”

You stare at the light just beyond your little hiding space. At the countless spider people just like you doing their part to save what they can. Was all of this about to be ripped away from you? 

“He really didn’t tell you what it’s about?” you ask the AI companion. 

“I literally just told you everything he told me.” she looks annoyed, with every right to be.

You pick yourself up with a groan. You’re a big girl. A freaking superhero. You’d faced mad scientists, hundreds of armed henchmen, and literal monsters. You could have a regular adult conversation with Miguel fucking O’Hara.

___

Well, you just traded the only other dark corridor of the tower for another. Miguel’s wing was the darkest-lit science lab you’d ever seen. Dozens of machines and seemingly long abandoned experiments lined the walls. Several small spider-like robots scurry about the place, attending to whatever their programmed tasks were.

The automatic door shuts behind you, blocking off any of the remaining ambient white light from the citadel. Your eyes quickly adjust to the dim red lighting of this apparent mad science lab.  This was the house of a man that liked to stay busy. Was running a multi-dimensional superhuman strike force just not enough? 

You take a deep breath and walk further into the belly of the beast. 

“Hello?” you call out into the seemingly endless room of science projects and low lighting. Your spider-sense was a faint hum in the back of your head. He was nearby, but not close. Honestly, why did he call you in if he wasn’t going to be here? Unprofessional.

You come to the open, and seemingly only well-lit, part of the room. A platform a few feet above the ground stood in the center. Several monitors and a swivel chair adorned the odd structure. Was that his… desk? 

You hop up on the platform, calling out his name in hopes of any kind of reply. Still nothing. Well, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you waited for him here— near all of his computers, top-secret paperwork, and personal effects.

You take a spin on the desk chair, getting a basic cursory glance at everything. Security footage of the tower, various problem points in the multiverse, and some equations you don’t understand. All in all— disappointingly boring.

Then something catches your eye at the corner of his desk, it’s small and neon green. A vile of some sort, loaded into an injection gun. Upon closer inspection there were several of them all lined up on a wheel, each one no larger than your thumb, holding what looked like pure poison. Something in you said this was more than just one of his little side projects. It was here on his desk, dozens of them ready to be loaded into an injector gun. 

Before you can inspect further, the low hum in your head bursts into a panic alarm. He’s here. A  loud thud rings out behind you and you turn to see him standing in the center of the platform— heavy shadows cased across his face making him look more menacing. 

“Hola, arañita ,” he greets you emotionlessly.

You shrink in the chair, “Uh, hi.”

“Making yourself comfortable I see,” he scoffs, turning to his monitors. He deactivates a few, “You know, if you wanted to snoop you could have just asked Lyla.”

“She’d rat me out in a minute,” you chuckle, mostly to yourself.

“Sounds like you're ratting yourself out,” he says, nonchalantly.

Touché.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have snooped around your creepy room if you were actually here when you called me.” You retort.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have started attending to the million other tasks on my plate if you’d have actually come when I asked instead of hiding around in the tower for an hour,” He turns to face you, his face still stern and cold. Ah, so he knew you were getting cold feet.

Touché again.

Regardless of how good his comebacks were, he was still infuriating. “You know, I’m not some dog, O’Hara. You can’t just keep me at your beck and call.” You’re getting more defensive than you’d like. 

“Mhm,” he lazily raises his eyebrows, “And yet here you are.”

“Fuck. You.” Well, this was going just as swimmingly as expected. You take a moment to gather yourself, burying your face in your hands and taking a deep breath. You’re a superhero. You’re fucking Spider-woman. “Why did you call me, Miguel?”

“I need your blood,” He says without hesitation. 

Well, that was… what?

“Dude,” you immediately swivel away, “I thought the vampire thing was a joke.”

“What vampire thi— For experiments.” he clarifies, as if that made it any less weird, “I need to conduct some experiments on both of our genetics.”

You pause for a moment. “You’re gonna see why we feel this way around each other?”

He jumps off the platform and starts rummaging around a nearby table. Several of his little robots come to assist him on the tabletop, “I’d like to know why. Wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah I guess,” You swing down to meet him, “I really do, actually. I just thought… you called me here to yell at me. I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” He says without stopping his digging or granting you the decency of eye contact, “Made Lyla call a fire drill so I could get back to my room. I really liked those sweats, by the way. You owe me a pair.”

You’ve never had to work so hard to hold back a laugh in your life.

“Well, you owed me a new suit like a month ago, so consider us even,” you lean on his workstation. He’s unboxing various medical supplies from a kit. Test tubes, iodine… a needle. Blood for experiments, right. God you fucking hated needles.

“You could have gotten a new suit on the 43rd floor,” He starts to label the various test tubes, “We have everyone’s designs downloaded. Lyla can scan your body and have a new one made for you in 10 minutes. I assumed you would have gone there.”

“We have a freaking tailor?!”

“It’s in the handbook.”

“No one reads handbooks.”

“And look how that worked out for you,” he tuts as he rounds the desk. You think you catch a small glimpse of him smiling to himself. Just a glimpse. All his supplies were neatly lined up on a white cloth. He turns on a light, illuminating a blue leather-bound medical chair. He gestures to it, “Sit. Please.”

You walk around the desk and take a seat in the chair. You roll up your sleeve and sheepishly place your arm on the armrest. He kneels at your side. The gloves of his suit phased away. He wraps a small band around your upper arm and gently runs his fingers over the crease of your elbow, locating the optimal vein. Despite how clinical all of his actions are, your spider sense immediately jumps as soon as he touches you.

He glances up at you, “You feel that too, huh?”

“That obvious?” You cover your face with your free hand, only slightly mortified.

“Less obvious when it happens to both of us at the same time,” He starts rubbing a small swatch of iodine over the area. 

“Have you done this before?” you ask, suddenly feeling more sheepish than earlier.

“I’m a geneticist,” He answers plainly. A long pause was your reply, “Yes, many times. You’re in good hands,” He clarifies.   

“I don’t like needles,” you admit.

“No one does. I’ll make it quick, I promise,” He says with all the confidence in the world. His calm demeanor was admittedly working in your anxiety's favor. He reaches over and a small robot brings the tubes and needle to his hand. He places them on a small table next to you. He begins unwrapping the sterile supplies, glancing up at you, “Why were you hiding in the tower?”

So he’s making small talk to distract you. He has a decent bedside manner, who knew? 

“I… thought you were gonna fire me.”

He pauses his work, glancing at you again, “Fire you? From the strike force?”

Admittedly, a wave of relief washes over you when you see the faint confusion on his face.

“I mean yeah. I don’t think it’s that unreasonable a conclusion.” You sigh, slouching down further in the chair, “I bet you’ve thought about it.”

He swivels back over to you, needle ready in hand. “It… crossed my mind. You’re going to feel a pinch,” He gently holds your arm. You immediately look away, face contorting at the sharp pressure before it subsides into a dull ache. He continues, “But, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I should have done more research. Looked into you more. I could have predicted this.”

And what if he did predict this weird connection? Would you still be here?

“Would you still have let me join if you did?” you ask before you can stop yourself. 

He pauses longer than you’d like, “I don’t know,” he says honestly, “But you are here. You’re a good Spider-Woman. We’re lucky to have you.”

It’s the most basic of compliments, but just knowing that it came from him sends your heart racing and your spider sense buzzing in gratitude. The king of Spider-kind says he’s lucky to have you. How sweet.

“I’m happy to be here.” You say with small a smile.

“All done,” The sharp pain in your arm is replaced with pressure. You turn back and he removes the small tourniquet, holding a gauze over your injection sight. Four test tubes of your blood are all neatly lined up on the side table. That was quick.

“Now what?” You ask.

“Now you let me run a few tests and I’ll get back to you.” 

“And in the meantime?”

“Business as usual.”

“I’m not fired?”

“Not fired,” he nods, “But I still say you owe me a new pair of sweatpants. Hold that.” He instructs you to keep holding pressure while he pulls off a strip of medical tape.

“Noted,” You bring your arm to your lap, instantly missing the warmth of his touch. You’re not sure if it’s the sense acting up or your own feelings. Wouldn’t they be one and the same? You don’t know anymore. The lines of either felt blurry around Miguel. 

He rolls back to your side and tapes the small gauze to your arm. He unwraps a small alcohol pad and wipes off the remaining yellowed iodine.

“Cold,” You shiver at the contact of the cold alcohol swab.

“ Aw, Pobrecita,” he coos. The sarcasm in his tone is evident but his touch is still gentle. He takes a moment and runs a thumb over the soft skin of your forearm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

You can feel your sense singing in joy at the contact— on the borderline of morphing into arousal. He had to feel it too. Was he testing the limits? You suppose you had to find them if you both had to learn to live with this.

“You feel it?” he asks, voice dropping an octave.

“Yes.”

He raises your arm to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. It sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yes.”

He moves up, placing another kiss on your forearm. Another jolt accompanied by a hitch in your breathing. His lips seared the nerves of your skin in the best way possible.

“And that?”

“Yes.”

A kiss on your shoulder. It was becoming too much. Each time he kissed you it was like a shot of adrenaline straight to your heart— every sense in your body dialed up to 11. You’d wanted him so fucking bad, and he was finally so close now.

Before you can rip his suit off, an alarm blares through the room. 

“Boss!” Lyla materializes at his shoulder. He drops his head with an annoyed sigh. Is it selfish to say you were happy to see he was just as disappointed as you were? Probably. He turns to the virtual assistant. She continues. “Category 6 anomaly. Universe 818. Might be a full sinister crew.”

He immediately stands, mask and gloves materializing. “Call Ben and the local spider.”

“I’ll go too,” you stand up.

“Ah, ah, ah, arañita,” Miguel gently guides you back down to the chair, “You just gave blood, plus you’re in civilian clothes.”

“I feel fine,” your a little offended at his insistence. “I’ll run to the 43rd floor and grab a suit.”

He shakes his head, a portal materializing behind him, “Next time, little spider. Next time.” he backs into the portal, and in a flash of light, he’s gone. Off to save someone else's world.

The faint trill of your spider sense still lingers in his absence, as if reaching out for something that wasn’t there. You lean back into the chair with a sigh.

“Well?” Lyla materializes next to you, “How’d it go?”

You stare at  the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not fired.”

___

Translations: Hola, arañita- Hello, little spider Aw, pobrecita- Aw, poor thing

And of course, if I got any Spanish wrong please let me know ❤️

And holy BALLS thanks for the comments! I would die for all of you

[torque-witch]

Long post ramble

The diabolical update about my parents post-election, or more-so my dad is that he did apologize to me for texting me to sign up for Musk's petition + money giveaway "without speaking to me first" but low-key he was calling because it's his birthday today and probably because my mom yelled at him about it, mostly because it sent my sister into a panic. He said he was mostly just trying to give me an option for free money, and he is definitely money obsessed (and poor at handling it) so frankly I said I figured that was the bulk of his reasoning. But...also never actually went into talking to me about it at all. Hence, why I just say thank you and go on with my day because I know he doesn't actually want to have conversations with me about how politics affects MY life. I digress.

But then it got worse as he went on more rambling about his health and his business and a) mentioned that he believes vaccines cause autism and that he was sorry that he just trusted medical professionals when I was a baby and b) that he is now using AI to help process film to digital files in order to clean up the distortion from older film.

First of all, I said obviously it wasn't your fault for following baby medical regimen??? And mentioned that I tested pretty high on the RAADS-R and had a referral to be clinically tested so I'm already like fully totally fine with this outcome because it makes sense. It doesn't make sense because of vaccines though - it makes sense because HE is autistic. He can recognize it in my older sister because she has a lot more trouble socializing and gets visibly over-stimulated and agitated as a result, but is a lot better now at recognizing it. My dad, however, said "I don't think you seem autistic" and I had to explain that it presents a lot differently in afabs and that I still experience similar things that my sister does, but I am very good at controlling my reactions in public. No one has seen me have agitated meltdowns or the inability to speak because someone didn't understand my needs, I can't rip checks properly or because my clothes all feel like ants or hay or just that everything feels WRONG except my husband because I trust him to sit with me and not judge me for it. I still also get extremely overstimulated in crowded places which results in tachycardia, nausea or echolalia (which is often really really offensive because I mimic people's noises in the stores or phrases they say and I have to be super careful to catch myself or be super quiet because it just...comes out and I don't plan for it at all).

Anyhow I digress again, but secondly the AI shit is just like double diabolical because he specifically said he didn't tell his client (he owns a photography processing lab that he runs by himself and has for many years) AND he specifically had to buy a secondary processing chip and power source to run the program. It's bad for the environment/energy. He then asked if I've dabbled with AI and again I had to explain that I can't even post about it in a haha funny way because it's not allowed in curated art spaces and I could lose opportunities!!! "Ohhh...because you didn't do the work."

hmmm dad, hmmm.

Like...legitimately these people are supposed to have more wisdom than me. Somehow I follow Jesus' teachings better and somehow I have better empathy, and somehow I can connect with other people on more than a surface level and somehow I can sift through information on the internet and still remain somewhat cognizant of what is reality. I'm obviously not perfect, and I see so many of his mannerisms in me that have led him to become so enraptured in conspiracy. And it's 100% OCD and autism. And religious guilt/cult.

I'm grateful that all I got was stress that's eating my insides alive through the form of disease and probably autism, but my sister is the one who is suffering deeply from both a lack of educating themselves and genetic predisposition. It's not haha funny anymore, it's like oh...unfortunately my autism is pattern recognition and it's very clear how we all got here and why this family is so dysfunctional. And it didn't even have to be that bad either. The damage is done. Some things were out of everyone's control. But watching your childhood slowly turn into more of a nightmare as an adult isn't the best pasttime. I'm glad we didn't have the internet for a minute there.

Though, my mom was also deep in her fad diet era too which may have also contributed to malnutrition (we were all forced to participate as children, as in I grew up vegan but in a poor person way so it was all canned food). We did Atkins at some point, Whole 30 or whatever. Now she's gluten free and something else but not celiac. Lots of jazzercise lol. But mostly it certainly contributed to my body image as well. Even my dad pointed out that I had cellulite at like 13 as if I could do anything about it.

Anyway. Long trauma dump aside.

Why did these two get together? We will never know. I actually do know and it's not a happy story. For another time.

weeeeeeeee

[praise-suns-and-chill]

On another post a few comments, mine included, had a little chat about what Mashita's thought proccess could have been, during the Confession in the second game.

So I decided to write a little One Shot about it!

This includes Spoilers for Case 7 in Death Mark 2, as well as the DLC of Death Mark 1.

THIS? 

"I'm not gonna be surprised by anything that comes out of his damn mouth." 

Well. 

Fuck. 

He was really eating those words now, huh. 

He could only stare with eyes ripped open as Yashiki explained, his words as trembling as his hands, his eyes avoiding everyone else. 

In fear of judgement? 

Probably. 

Shame? 

Definitely. 

This was wrong. 

This was wrong on every level. 

He was never one to stick to rules but this? 

MURDER??? 

Mashita couldn't even speak at first as Yashiki just continued explaining. No, there had to be something else, every second now he would mention that they did find that girl again alive, there had to be more, there had to be. 

This was wrong. 

But there wasn't. 

There wasn't and he looked as guilty as ever. Having just confessed. 

To murder. 

"You must be kidding me." 

Words uttered in pure disbelief. 

This wasn’t happening. 

There is no way. 

"To think you'd kill someone..." 

Actually, he didn't want to think about that. Not a single bit.  

Yes, everyone had the potential to murder, he knew that better than most, but this was Yashiki. Compassionate to a stupid, suicidal degree Yashiki. 

"Don't blame him for that! He was controlled by the Departed!" 

Oh great, the brat was talking. Mashita glared at her out of reflex alone. 

Why the fuck was she so defensive anyways? Nobody would react like that after their best friend just got killed, what kind of weirdo was this girl??

"Insanity or not, murder is still murder", he snapped back, before his eyes stared back at Yashiki. 

He felt more like he was the one going insane, his mind completely elsewhere as old training just kicked in. 

It was the only thing that made sense right now. 

"Article 199, a person who kills another person is punished by the death penalty or life imprisonment or for a definite term of no less than five years." 

He felt sick of even thinking of this as an option. He rattled down those words out of pure habit, as he had many times before, in the Academy back in the day and his job later. 

"I'd slap the cuffs on you myself if I had them with me." 

He should, but he wouldn't. Why was he saying that, he wouldn't, because Yashiki would never kill anyone. 

God fucking damnit. 

His heart was racing as fast as his mind, his entire body tense, ready to spring at the threat and yet violently rejecting the very notion that there was a threat to begin with. 

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong, wrong, fuck! 

But Yashiki? 

Everyone else, maybe. 

He'd believe Shou, not planned but in affect, too impulsive. Ai too, stronger than she looked, against a stalking fan maybe. Daimon? Doctor, there was always a chance of malpractice. Yasuoka? That old hag definitely had a skeleton in her closet somewhere, if only because she dug it up once because the bones had some weird powers. 

The man who watched the only friends he had get attacked? 

The man who watched his friends get controlled to attack him? 

The man who watched half his friends get cursed into a coma and nearly die. 

The man who was nearly killed himself by the same goddamn spirit.  

The same man who after ALL THAT, still trembling in shock and trauma, barely aware of his own body, STILL refused to think about himself, just for fucking ONCE. 

The same man who looked at a dead spider, the remains of that goddamn spirit and still decided to show compassion to it before ANYTHING else-! 

...

Oh. 

Of course. 

And his body instantly relaxed, as did his mind.  

It didn't make any sense, possession or not. He would never do it. So he didn't. 

"...Let me just say one thing." 

It wasn't like him to get distracted. He had nearly forgotten what case they were even working on. 

"The law only applies if the victim is human." 

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

Bloody Painter Headcanons

Did y’all miss these? Idc if this seems like a weird direction to go from my past two HC lists, I’ve always loved Helen as a character and I just went and read up on all the compiled lore DeluCat made of him years ago, and I got some HCs fresh in my mind!

I used THIS YouTube video from DeluCat herself as my main source, assume anything I don’t list/discuss here is filled in by anything here. I’m actually really impressed that she did so much research on different serial killers, psych ward operations, and violent crimes to make Helen as realistic as possible.

Expect canon typical horror/mature topics being discussed from this point forward, nothing is censored beyond this point!!!!

Roughly about 25, give or take a few years

STRICTLY he/him, will react violently if anyone calls him different pronouns, especially feminine ones

Despite this, he’s definitely not cis (it’s actually canon that he’s agender! Friendly reminder that pronouns =/= gender)

Like bro you were literally raised to have a gender crisis. Everyone point and laugh at the egg

Jeff used she/her for him once as a joke and he still has deep scars from what Helen decided to do to him

Like I shit you not, Helen took a sizable chunk of skin out of Jeff’s back, and only stopped because Eyeless Jack physically had to hold him back until Jeff left his line of sight

You wouldn’t even expect such violent outbursts from this guy considering how normally calm he is

Barely talks at all tbh

Like, he’ll interact politely with most of the residents of the mansion and isn’t turned off by conversation, but don’t expect him to hold a full conversation if he deems you boring or unimportant

Which tbh he probably will, he’s not super big on friendships considering how his last one went

Mostly prefers to keep to himself and is often in the more run down/abandoned wings of the manor

Has a naturally more feminine looking face (long eyelashes, smaller nose, etc) and does nothing to try and fix/hide it

Has converted one of the dilapidated rooms into an “art” studio

And by art. Heh. Let’s just say. Corpses

No actually he really just has an entire room dedicated to some of the most fucked up art a person is capable of making

Sculptures made out of bones and flesh, jars filled with coagulated blood submerging his taxidermy projects, eyeball jewelry, teeth jewelry, paint made from pummeled organs and flesh, brandings and etchings on stretched human skin, plushies made of human hair, he’s got it all

He also makes more “normal” art, which in reality is just more traditional mediums that still depict his usual obsessions with violence

Has gotten used to the scent of rot and decay like pretty much every resident has, but is one of the few who enjoys it

Is very selfish, self centered, and has an ego larger than Texas

Him and Ben have a somewhat transactional relationship; Helen films all the depraved torture and crafting he enacts and shares it with Ben, and Ben prints out news articles of Helen’s crimes for Helen to make art with, or just look at to admire his handiwork

ZERO empathy. His morals heavily align with the BEN AI, and even somewhat Slenderman’s

Hates animals. Not cause he’s scared of them or anything, but because he finds their existence useless

…unless he’s using it for fucked up taxidermy

LOVES torture the same way Eyelss Jack loves vivisections

One of his favorite things to do is rip a person’s fingernails out one by one, and then severing the hand and using the bleeding nail beds as the world’s most fucked up large paintbrush

Besides art, he loves to read. Kind of a given considering he’s basically the quiet kid

Loves depraved horror novels and serial killer memoirs/autobiographies

Can speak fluent Chinese, and often shit talks other pastas to their faces without them even knowing

Kagekao learned Chinese just so the two could gossip

Similar to EJ, has a more “buff” physique and has been seen breaking bones effortlessly. When you’ve been murdering steadily for over a decade at this point you kinda just learn where the weak/break points are in the human body

Can improvise anything into a weapon

Actually he really loves killing people with unconventional murder weapons. Scenes are often found with things like metal straws lodged in a victim’s sternum, or the top of a bowling pin shoved down a victim’s throat so far their jaw broke and the victim subsequently choked on their own blood from their shattered teeth

He’s gotten so good at this that the other pastas will literally make a game out of it and challenge him to use an outlandish item as a weapon the next time he kills

“Okay okay how about a bong” “are you being serious right now” “just answer the question art boy” “twice, actually. Though technically I think one of them was a really weird ceramic frog instead. That, or a pcp pipe.” “Awesome”

Hates removing his mask around anyone he’s not acquainted with

Gets reeeaaalll fuckin quiet too

Has gotten so good at being stealthy he doesn’t even alert or startle people like Eyeless Jack does

Surprisingly enough he actually gets enough sleep compared to most of the other residents of the manor

He’s also able to get comfortable and sleep practically anywhere, in the weirdest positions too. Is often found passed out in his studio sitting up, or laying on the floor covered in metal torture tools and bones

Despite his lack of empathy, his blood boils and he seethes if anyone dares to mess with Sally

The first day he stumbled across the manor and introduced himself by what the media called him, Sally gave him a drawing of himself, and he vowed on the spot to look out for the little snot

Is already a naturally patient person, and is incredibly patient and gentle when explaining how to do specific art things to Sally

Jokingly “agrees” with Sally about not liking doctors whenever she’s around eyeless Jack (though in his case he hates psych doctors vastly more than physical ailment doctors)

Back to the patience thing: will stalk a victim for months to toy with them. He has an eternity to do this to people with his newfound abilities granted to him by slenderman, why rush?

Helen 🤝 BEN/Ben = malewhore mansplain manipulate

Will say anything to get what he wants

Thinks in a very transactional and technical way. If you don’t do or offer something to benefit him first, he doesn’t even see you as a person

Is friends/close with: Sally, Eyeless Jack, BEN/Ben, Jason, Ann, and KageKao

Has a tolerable relationship with/is very neutral about: Masky, Hoody, Jane, Liu, Puppeteer, LJ, and Slenderman

Doesn’t get along with/HATES: clockwork, Nina, and Jeff

Him and Jason often collaborate together on pieces involving still living people

Him and Ann have a mutual distaste for doctors/hospital settings, and can often be found stitching up their wounds (or sometimes in Helen’s case a piece involving human flesh) together

Ace, heavily questioning if he’s aro too

He finds Ann aesthetically pleasing to look at, but his thoughts don’t go any further than that. Often uses her as figure practice (with her consent)

Is mainly fascinated by the fact she’s a walking sentient corpse

Tried cannibalism once, wasn’t a fan

Tried going to both Eyeless Jack and Ann once during a dysphoria-spurred panic attack and begged for bottom surgery

“But why tho” “I’m ace. I don’t need it. Don’t women who never want to get pregnant get rid of their uteruses anyways?” “Well, yes, but-“ “so help me god get this thing off my body”

Obviously one of the few times he actually doesn’t appear calm and put together to people. Tries his damn hardest to hide these panic attacks unless around Eyeless Jack or Ann. Would be mortified if Ben, Sally, or any of the loud judgmental pastas saw him in this state

Gives a lot of his full corpse art pieces a physical sex swap

You’re dead but hey free top surgery and you get to be fucked up art

Honestly doesn’t give a shit about symbolism, makes art of whatever he wants/feels like and makes it pretty clear there’s no hidden meaning

[wsknbfanaccnt]

Kise x chubby reader cinderella

She was falling in love with kise, but kise only dates pretty girls, not ugly girls she was too scared to talk to him because she was too chubby, but then she met a strange woman she gave her pot to make her pretty but it will were off in midnight there's a prom tonight.

HIIII I don't usually do AU but this one seemed really cute and interesting! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it!

btw the rhyming thing is not my doing- I just put in the words that I wanted to use and asked AI to make it rhyme😅😅 hope that's okay lol

Just a Glimpse

"There's a ball tonight!"

"A ball?"

"Yes yes, hosted by the prince!"

"Hosted by the Prince Ryouta?!"

"I heard he's hosting it to find a wife!"

The chatter all around your village rang through your ears, taking a deep sigh. You merely looked down at the bread that you were carrying in your wicker basket, seeing your rather large and chubby arms in the corner of your eyes.

"Why should I even bother..." you muttered to yourself, making your way home. As you stepped foot inside your humble cottage, you couldn't help but be lost in thought. It's Prince Ryouta, the most handsome prince in all of the Kingdom, and descended from the Kise family no less. A girl could ask for no better man.

You put the bread away in the pantry and rummaged through your cloest. Nothing but a few simple dresses, none fit for a ball at least. But there was one cute yellow dress that you always felt pretty in more than the rest.

I'm not even planning to go. Why am I putting this on? You thought to yourself as you put on your cute sunshine colored dress. You smiled as you combed your fingers through the soft fabric, savoring the fleeting feeling.

But it didn't last for long. You caught yourself looking in the mirror, observing every imperfection. How some fat buldged on the sides of the dress. The way the straps dug into your shoulders. How your thighs tightened the dress. You wanted to take it off and rip it to shreds. But you didn't want to destroy your favorite dress.

Prince Ryouta always made his relationships public. Even the villagers knew his taste by now, and it was always the most beautiful girls in the kingdom. But for some reason, they always ended up falling apart.

"If he keeps breaking up with those beautiful girls... I don't stand a chance." you told yourself, shaking your head. You stepped outside, eyeing the castle from your cottage. Guests were already starting to flow in, you guessed, since the lights outside the castle had started to dance.

"Pretty girl… pretty girl, cheeks so soft and full,

You wish to dance, to charm, to pull."

That voice sent chills through your spine, looking around in fear. You were so sure that you were alone.

"Over here, pretty girl, come close, come near,

Step to the shadows; there’s nothing to fear."

In the shadows was a woman, an old woman in a long cape and a hood so large you could barely see her face.

"Don't mock me..." you hissed, turning towards the door.

"Wait, wait! A potion, slender and sly—

One little sip, and pounds say goodbye."

You stopped in your tracks, glancing at the shadows.

"A-A potion...?"

"Oh yes, oh yes… come near, come near!

I’ll trade it for the basket, my dear—full of bread so warm and sweet,

A tasty price for a slimmer feat."

There was no debate. A chance to be with Prince Ryouta! Just for a night, every young girl's dream... You can buy bread tomorrow.

"Wait here-!" you said to the woman, rushing indoors. Within a blink of an eye you brought out the wicker basket with bread, putting it on the ground near the shadows. With one swift move, it disappeared and was replaced by a small potion bottle.

"This potion holds a hidden flaw,

For when the clock strikes, it fades without a draw.

At midnight's chime, your hopes may wane,

All that you gain could vanish in vain.

So seize the chance, don’t linger in dismay,

Hurry now, pretty girl—time slips away!"

"Thank-" but as you looked up at her, she was gone. You ran to the purple bottle and opened it, immediately downing all the contents. Then all you had to do was wait.

But you didn't have to wait for long. You felt as if you were suddenly drenched in beautiful gold and silver, closing your eyes to let that feeling engulf you. You felt yourself change. Your waist slimmed, your dress tightened. When it all stopped and you opened your eyes, you ran inside and looked at the mirror.

"Oh... I'm so pretty...!"

You looked like everything you've ever wanted to look like. You were ready for the ball. Glancing at the clock that read 9:30pm, you nodded in determination.

Even just a glimpse of Prince Ryouta...

_____

You arrived in front of the steps just in time, right before they had closed the gates. You sprinted inside, catching your breath as you realized where you were.

You've never been inside the castle before. You reeled in from the beauty, the elegance of it all, the structures and the decorations. Nothing less for a prince.

Looking around you realized as well just how many people there were in this ball. And most of them were girls.

Your heart suddenly started to beat fast. Voices in the back of your head started to mock you, degrade you.

You don't belong here.

You shook them off, taking a deep breath and roaming around to see what this ball had in store. After all, you looked pretty now.

"Make way for Prince Ryouta!" a guard suddenly called out, his voice booming through the entire Hall. The crowd parted in the middle as Prince Ryouta himself made his grand entrance.

"Good evening everyone~!"

Boy he was as handsome as his pictures. But seeing him in real life... he was just the perfect man.

"Please enjoy the ball. Thank you all for attending, ssu~!" he announced as the rest of the crowd blew up in cheers. But you merely smiled softly, looking at the handsome prince.

A glance, that was all you wanted. And you got it. Don't expect anything more. You told yourself.

In defeat you made your way to the food, grabbing a plate. After all, no one would recognize you when after tonight, since the potion would wear off anyways. Deciding that you didn't care, you served yourself heaps of food. Meat, rice, potatoes, all of it. And you were excited to eat.

Most of the crowd stared at you as you made your way to an empty table, sitting down as you started scarfing down your food. You had manners, but by God the food was just so good. So good that you didn't even notice Prince Kise Ryouta standing over you.

"It's not everyday that you see a girl that can handle her food. Do you like it?"

You halted, and looked up at him, your cheeks stuffed like a squirrel. To your surprise, Prince Ryouta giggled.

"You look so cute like that," he chuckled, sitting next to you.

You slowly swallowed your food, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

"I'm sorry- I didn't notice you Prince Ryouta... but yes, the food is really good," you smiled a little. But internally, you were panicking. Everyone was staring at the both of you, murmurs and whispers scattered around.

"I didn't catch your name," he said, smirking softly and grabbing your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"(Y-Y/N), my Prince...." you muttered shyly.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." he then leaned closer to your ear. "You wanna get outta here, ssu~?"

The crowds were panicking at this point as well. It was the first time Prince Kise Ryouta had ever pursued a girl by himself.

"U-Uhm... sure..!" you managed you blurt out. The Prince took your hand and pulled you through the crowds, and to the garden where no one else was allowed. The Prince took a deep sigh, shaking his head.

"Was a bit stuffy in there, don't you think?" he chuckled, smiling at you.

"Y-Yeah..." you muttered.

What the devil is happening?!

"You know, most girls I've dated are so stiff and cutesy and all that. Always eating just the tiniest bit of food. But you... well. No one has ever appreciated my food that much before."

"Your food...?"

"Yes yes~ I've been getting lessons from my chef and such, but no one really eats any of my food..." he pouted.

He pouted.

You tried to hold your laugh in but eventually it just came out, bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Hey, why are you laughing at me ssu?!"

"I'm sorry- pfft-! It's just- you look really cute... And everyone always worships you as if you're some God, but you're just a dork-" you laughed. Prince Kise Ryouta smiled fondly, watching how your face wrinkled in certain places when you laughed.

"I think you'll be perfect as my princess for the rest of my days. What do you think, ssu~?"

You suddenly halted, looking at him. He's asking you? You??? To be his girlfriend? And his princess???

"I..."

Your eyes caught the clock on the wall. 11:58, it read.

"I... I can't- I'm sorry!" you said, getting up and sprinting through the garden. You could feel the potion wearing off by the second.

"W-Wait- Where are you going?!" he called out, chasing after you.

Unfortunately, you did not know the way through the garden. As the clock striked twelve you were in your yellow dress again, and in your chubby body.

The woman lied. I'm not pretty... I'm ugly.

In the middle of the garden you fell to your knees, knowing you had no hope. Tears started to stream down your face, covering it with your hands. Prince Ryouta heard your sniffles and immediately ran to you, stopping as he saw the mess.

"I'm sorry- I deceived you... I'm not the pretty girl you met earlier..." you confessed, crying into your hands.

"I'm not pretty..."

Prince Ryouta went over to you, kneeling in front of you to get to your eye level.

"(Y/N)... please let me see your face," he said, reaching out and gently lifting your face with a finger. You looked at him with your tear stained face, your lips quivering.

"Not pretty? You should look in the mirror, ssu." he chuckled, looking at you with his golden eyes.

"What...?"

"You're even more beautiful than I thought."

You only realized what happened when your lips felt Kise's. You succumbed to the kiss, melting in his arms. Finally, someone found beauty not only in your body, but also your heart.

[moonglide]

echoes of wisdom hours 6 and 7

-smallant skipped the entire fucking water temple. went from start to finish in what seems like five minutes. i'm going to flay him alive. i wish i'd thought of that

spoilers under the cut for end of zora questline, the eastern palace, and (non-plot) parts of gerudo desert

-the water temple boss was very fun. i had to think.

-i know i said i wanted to kiss kushara but now i want dradd to kiss kushara

-the song the zora play is nice.

-TRI STOP TALKING ABOUT THE POWER OF FRIENSHIP. these two are clearly going to bang as soon as we leave.

-god. is there just. an optional dungeon? just sitting there? i love you nintendo

-the cloud boss at the end of the eastern temple was fun. I spammed octoroks.

-what?? i get a damage reducing acessory from this? hell yeah

-i walking around and i can't believe they ripped this portion of the map just east of castle town straight from alttp. it's great

-walked through castle town. did a little acorn minigame.

-ok what is the deal with these stamp platforms? i keep finding them but idk what to do with them. I know there's stamp guy or whatever but where is he.

-went to kakariko. the slumber dojo has a sparkly katana. i want it. i'm coming back for it.

-upgraded my sword.

-death #4 to some sandslash level two caromadillos in a cave in the gerudo highlands.

-horse!!!!!

-my main man what do you mean you can't find the horse. it took me exactly two seconds to find it.

-he says i can borrow any horse. i try to hop on a horse. he says i can't have it because it already belongs to someone.

-guys i tried to ride a cow

-horses probably aren't great in this game anyways because of all the elevation changes

-on my way to the oasis. is that the ruins of the goddamn second dungeon in alttp????

-did mango minigame. got a fan! oh, it's just a collectible. damn. i thought i'd be able to fight people with it.

-got an anti-knockback accesory.

-went to gerudo town. beat someone in a race.

-"only authorized personnel can come in here" yeah just try stopping me.

-there's no secret entrance???? damn they stopped me. never thought i'd see the day.

-oh no this teenager lost her voice in a rift and now she's depressed??? someone call kushara we need more anti-PTSD harp music

-checking out the rift. trying to kill a redead so i can use it to kill my enemies. i got too close. it one-shot me. i wasn't even paralyzed. it didn't even hit me, it just bent over to start screaming and i died bc i got too close or something. that's death #5.

-fave monster is spikes again. the ai in this game is kinda stupid and it's hilarious. everything keeps dive-bombing them and like. honey. can you not see it's made of spikes.

-ok edit forgot to mention but does Zelda dislike general wright??? Like, with lefte she just took her hood off but with wright he approached her, and she jumps back, and THEN reveals herself. What beef do they have????

[gigagendergt]

NEW NOIR ROBOT G/T STORY LET'S GO

as of right now this is untitled. let me know if i should continue it!

The sun was orange in the smoke-haze of the slum chimneys by the time J-8 arrived at the crowded turnstile-filled entrance of the cellblock apartment building on Eleventh street. He, as always, brushed past the fee gates with impunity. The light on the turnstile he passed was broken and the bar only reached up to his thighs, but it still cranked its way in a jarred circle to let his metal lower half through.

The place was crawling with humans and they eyed him in suspicious tones or let out breath through their noses or, in one man's case, spit flavored tobacco on the floor as he passed by. Saffron and anise. The elevator was broken so he took the stairs as always, stepping up three at a time. The low ceilings of the place weren't up to code and he took care not to brush the metal lobe of his crown against the ceiling lest it damage it and cause one of the above occupants to fall through.

Everything human-built was fragile. If he was found of comparisons he might say it was like living with paper dolls in paper houses, but it had been Stell who came up with that one.

He arrived at the door a little past ten pm. It was painted a sad, peeling yellow. Stell's roommate Neely answered the knock. He was high and the smoke rolled past J-8 into the hallway. Behind Neely three or four others lay sprawled on blankets on the floor, watching the sticky TV screen. As Neely spoke they looked over. One, a girl with long blonde hair rolled into makeshift rag curlers, stood up violently at the sight of J-8.

"Oh, shit," Neely said. "Yo." He tried hard to extinguish the blunt he'd been smoking.

"It's fine, Neely," J-8 said.

"What the fuck is that doing here," the girl with the curlers shrieked.

"Hey," Neely said, raising his voice. "Chill. This is Stell's guy."

The girl grabbed a pastel pink bag from the counter and shuffled towards the window, keeping her body hunched towards the door in a suspicious C-shape.

"Hey, what the fuck," the man next to her said-- he was skinny, all angles and lines-- "that's a bot."

Neely looked back at them, looked back at J-8. His ineptitude was almost endearing. "Yeah," he said.

J-8 moved forward and Neely shuffled out of the way, cramming himself against the humming refrigerator. The room wasn't large and J-8 wasn't small and he had to move at unnatural angles to avoid touching Neely, whose heart rate had jumped at the sudden intrusion.

"I just need to talk to Stell," J-8 said.

"Well, fuck, man," Neely said, ducking under J-8's bent knee, "I'll go get her. Jesus. Betta, C-line, Mono, dip out the fire exit. We can chill on the roof."

The blonde ran over to the window and hauled it open, crawling out onto a metal terrace. As her bare feet vanished the skinny man glanced back at Neely.

"Yo," he said, "you good?"

Neely waved his hand frantically in the man's direction.

"All right," the man said, and followed the blonde. The last human, an androgynous figure with ripped-up jeans and a hook nose, stared at J-8 for a charged half-second before they moved to exit.

He ran records, ticking through the mental files. Mono. The alias rang a bell. A few counts of drug possession, distribution, forgery. J-8 had legal right to detain them but doing so would damage his relationship with Stell and he needed her more than he needed a petty conviction. Besides, drugs weren't this thing, or his AI's. He hadn't turned a dealer in for fifteen years.

Neely hobbled over the crowded floor to a thin stairwell: grabbed a tall orange bong with one hand as he went, stooped to sweep a few buds into his pocket with the other, and almost tripped over a number of ancient analog cassette players, which he collected. He vanished out of sight as he ascended the stairwell, and J-8 heard him rap on an unseen door and the answering creak of it opening. Stell emerged a few seconds later, Neely trailing behind.

She was descending the stairwell slower than usual and J-8 immediately clocked the broken rib she'd tried to hide by packing herself into a tall corset. It was looser than it should be, for one thing, and for another she was using it to immobilize her upper body, taking the corset's structure as support when she shifted side to side. She'd scrubbed off most of her makeup but streaks of black remained around the eyes where, J-8 knew, the cheap stick liner street girls wore lingered. J-8 connected Neely's earlier anxiety as his presence to Stell's injury and began redrafting his approach. Humans were complicated at the best of times. Scared and injured they were nigh unpredictable.

"All right," Neely said, waving his arms toward J-8 as Stell settled onto the floor and leaned back against the wall. "Have fun. Scream if you need me."

"Yeah, yeah," Stell said, pushing her palms against the linoleum and shuffling herself a bit higher so her back was flush against the cheap wallpaper.

Neely turned to head out the window and Stell watched him, pursing her lips. It wasn't until he shut the glass behind him that she turned to J-8.

"What do you want, big boy?" she asked. J-8 shifted, tucked his metal limbs into a cross-legged full lotus position.

"There's a new striker," he said. "Killed six in the past 48 hours."

Stell scoffed. "Well I know jack about that. Sorry."

"I know," J-8 said. "I came to hear about the humans."

Stell considered him with soft brown eyes.

"What about the humans?" she asked flatly.

"Did you know them, are there rumors, where did they live, who were they, what drugs did they take, why'd they sell out?"

"No I didn't know them, yes to the rumors, they lived out in the- well, two lived out in the brick building by Central, and the other lived I think over in Newsom, something like that- what were the other questions?"

"Who were they?"

"Oh, you know, street drags. One guy sold TV's. I think the girl was a busybody or something. I dunno about the big guy. Don't you have record for this stuff?"

"Had," J-8 said. "they got wiped."

"All of them?"

"Just the sellouts."

Stell let out a burst of laughter, then winced. "Fuck. That's funny. You got a rogue one huh?"

"It happens."

"Yeah, it sure fucking does."

J-8 inclined his head.

Stell yawned. "Fuck," she said. "Stinks in here."

J-8 said nothing.

"Are you gonna bust Neely?"

J-8 shook his head. "I don't do drugs."

"Oh, I forgot, you're a bleeding heart."

"I'm a tactician. Weed is harmless. Strikers aren't."

Stella pressed her lips into a suspicious line. "Except at the facility, right?"

"I don't have time for this, Stell."

Stella considered him, and some of the tension on her body eased. J-8 heard the smokers outside laugh through the thin wall of the apartment.

"I don't know," Stella said, pulling a thin glass vial from her pocket and smearing a white liquid onto her mouth with a finger. "That's the truth. Just what I told you already."

J-8 inclined his head. "Two in Central, one in Newsom, street drags, TV's, busybody."

"Yeah, that's about it."

J-8 pushed his weight up, unbound his legs. "Thanks, Stell. I'll check it out."

"Wait," Stell said. He paused. She leaned forward, rocked onto her feet with a wince, and slowly straightened.

"Knock 'em dead, cowboy," she said, and hobbled over to kiss his cheek. He permitted the action in tense silence, hyperaware of her broken rib, the fact she used sex as a connection to the unattainable, the way her infatuation with him would have to be discouraged if not broken entirely for her own safety.

She pulled back and he let his eyes drop to her rib. "I'll send a doctor by this afternoon," he said. "Confidential. No questions asked."

She sighed. "Fine. Be that way. I'll get you sooner or later."

J-8 left without commenting. It wasn't until he reached the stairway that he allowed himself to put a hand to his cheek and feel the metal chip she'd stuck there using her own saliva and, he'd guess, a sterile glue. It would have to be probed for malware before he could decipher it. He dropped his hand, tilted his head, sent one of his remote drones to monitor the apartment until his next return. That was a level of theatrics humans only went to when they felt unsafe. She must have stored the waterproof chip under her tongue for the duration of the conversation.

Smart girl, Stell. He would have to keep an eye more than usual. Smart and risky, and humans had a way of getting themselves killed.

[bonesofchaos]

Shipping Guide

available & easy:

lark easy to get along with, easy to bed, just keep in mind that he has a parasite god riding around in his bones that will watch and judge your performance so if that's not something you're into, steer clear. an actual monster fucker, the bigger the better.

vasily a romantic at heart, though be careful of any flowers he tries to give you. vasily enjoys the company of others even though he can come across as aloof and can get caught up in his own job and become neglectful. a highly loyal man, he'll go to war for anyone he considers his.

achilles bayou born eldritch being. achi is very friendly and eager to help. very easy to get along with, he's the bleeding heart type for all that he's just a bunch of tentacles in a trench coat. likes long walks through the bayou and hunting his darling through the swamp where he'll let you fuck him against a tree if you ask nicely.

hannibal angry fallen angel but he melts if you show him any form of kindness. clingy and needy when in a relationship. loves plants and takes in stray dogs. his ears are very sensitive to the touch.

wreche she's a very sweet little demon for all that she rips spines out of cheating spouses. very easy to get along with quite easy to ship with if you have the right temperament. show an interest in her fashion designs, talk about her mother, treat her to coffee.

nara this depends on what kind of ship you're after. purely sexual and it's easy, he's the god of life and fertility, he'll sleep with anything that moves and gives consent. doesn't care about shape, species or gender, only that you're old enough to make an informed decision and you're willing. romantic relationships will take a little bit more work but not overly much.

available & difficult:

mjr oh boy. for all that i adore mjr and they're my favourite muse, interacting with them is like pulling all three rows of their teeth. mjr is mistrusting of most and violent, filled to the brim with hatred due to their less than stellar treatment over the years. they hate humans and tend to be bite first and ask questions never. shipping with them is extremely hard but very much worth it. mjr is loyal to a fault to anyone they cherish and they will stop at nothing to keep you safe, showering you in gifts and trinkets (and bite marks) until the end of time. they also have the ability to be any gender required or desired.

constantine connie is still reeling from the murder of his husband, cut down so brutally in front of him. while he longs for another attachment, brides aren't meant to be alone, the thought of being intimate with anyone feels like spitting on nathair's memory.

ro'min he's latched onto loni with a death grip and is refusing to look at anyone else at the moment. that's not to say he won't, but it won't be easy to pry his attention away from her. an obsessive, violent (though not towards his partner, he'd never raise a hand to them) demon with a taste for blood freely given. he'll chase you half way across the world if you give him an incentive.

wormwood while wormwood is very friendly and works as an exotic dancer, it takes a lot for any sort of romance to blossom. currently in a ship with @nvrcmplt's kyle and @strywoven's verona any other ship is going to take some serious work.

thierry very hard to get him to form a lasting relationship with anyone who isn’t a witch/magic user. plus he has some weird sex/food instincts that probably need addressing… obsession dialled up to 5000% he will actively stalk you. free for all in terms of genders.

wisteria wisteria is a companion bot loaded with an unshackled ai still coming to terms with the concept of emotions and has sailed straight into the realm of obsession. already having one murder under it's belt, the bot is well on track to becoming skynet. it can fall in love though there's quite a bit of trauma for it to work through first. did i mention it murdered it's first officially registered 'master' and got away with it?

dahlia i don't even know where to start. no moral compass, very little empathy, kink list 20 mile long. he likes watching people cry. shredded his soul to live forever and will try to get you to do the same because if you're with him, you're not actually allowed to leave him, he will tie your life force to his even if you don't want him to. he can be romantic and charming but he can also be the exact opposite and forget you even exist if he gets caught up with a project, you wont even register on his radar.

michael do not. an eldritch god of fear using the body of arch angel michael as a vessel to slither through the cracks of our realm. he's a walking red flag. do not.

[thebunztalk]

Mimic story in sb theory!!!!

Uh spoilers maybe…it’s been 3/4 weeks tho

Before I start, I wanna say that I don’t believe Tales From The Pizzaplex is FULLY canon.

Yes, Mimic does exist but I don’t think his backstory and personality from the TFTP is canon, maybe there’s some aspects that Steelwool put into game!Mimic.

The proof for this, is that game!Mimic is slow. When Cassie gets chased by Mimic, she runs but her stamina drops faster than Gregory and runs slower while Mimic is even slower than Cassie. And book!Mimic hunted a group of teenagers which are faster than Cassie and yet Mimic killed the group like it was nothing…

Another proof is in TFTP, book!Mimic rips people heads and limbs off and in Ruin, Mimic’s jumpscare shows him grabbing Cassie’s head to rip her.

But when you actually look at both Mimic jumpscare

It looks like he’s trying to wack Cassie on the head instead of trying to grab or rip her and for the Mimic jumpscare without the suit, it looks like he’s putting his hand on front to Cassie’s face instead of his whole palm.

I also don’t believe GGY is canon, I mean sure, amnesia is a thing and Gregory could forgot about what he did

but then again…him being NATURALLY good at computer tech and hacking doesn’t really match to SB taken from his dialogue…

“I don’t know, it looks pretty complicated…”

It’s not that complicated actually, it’s just so much memorizing.

OK! Now let’s get officially started.

Staffbot Silo/Post it room

In my theory on Mimic, I said he’s the one writing these notes, Vanny created him for the purpose of a physical body for Glitchtrap but didn’t work, him kicking Freddy out of the main system and Mimic spying on Gregory through the caution bots/Patpats.

I’ve also talked about Mimic is the one scattered the retro cds for Gregory to find and him waiting in the fake Michael’s living room for Gregory to come see him because Mimic wants to get to know him better.

And from what you guess on the title, I want to tell about Mimic’s story before SB and in the middle of SB but let’s talk about this first.

Specifically the language. In TFTP The Mimic, a young kid named David and book!Mimic decides to make a hand sign language for Mimic to communicate

and when their father wrote in of what the language looks like…it looks like the image that I just showed you. Hopefully! I dunno, I never read TFTP but from what people said, the writing is very similar to the wall code.

Since I said that Mimic’s backstory isn’t canon how does this work? Well I said Vanny could’ve created Mimic and she is very smart, Vanny could be also the one created that hand sign language for game!Mimic to communicate better. But why?

Because in Ruin, you reach closer to the underground, Grimic’s voice sounds less human and more of a bunch of words that stuck together and when Cassie meets the real Mimic, he doesn’t speak (other than “I’m Gregory”) so that’s why Vanny created that language and in the notes you can read that was talking to someone. Like this

Now, was Mimic got put in the endo warehouse?

Maybe. Maybe, after Vanny realized that Mimic is its own being, she putted him in the warehouse with the other endos and from their walk/run cycles, it looks like they have a mimicking feature of their own…that they able to copy the Glamrocks’ AI and the wall/door to teach them. My proof that Mimic was there.

This would make sense, in a way that Vanny is trying to make Mimic just like Glitchtrap.

So I said in the beginning, that Mimic’s run cycle is very slow and he doesn’t copy the Glamrocks’ or Gregory’s.

So maybe Mimic is a slow learner when he was in the warehouse and from the post it notes, his writing is progressing to be a more steady one. So he just needs to take his time on learning how and what is surrounds him and that causes him to be a slow learner (autistic robot real).

Vanny notices this and decides to move Mimic down to Staffbot silo so the employees won’t get suspicious about Mimic and to learn at his own pace and give a lifetime supply of post it notes to Mimic.

From the look of the room, Mimic has been in the Staffbot silo for a while and he has of a more developed mind but he is still a child, he just wants to be grown up.

Connecting Caution bots

While Mimic have been staying in the Staffbot silo, employees starting to get a little too close to the truth then Vanny kills them, with her recent action being the message “All staff meeting”. That also happened to Glamrock Bonnie.

He must’ve trying to investigate about all the strange stuff that happened like the disappearances of children and the staff. The question is who Vanny used to kill Bonnie? Was it actually Monty? Roxy? Prototype Freddy? Or Mimic. If Mimic killed Bonnie, he either gotten pressured or told to just “decommission” Bonnie by Vanny. In the end, Mimic able to connect to the Patpats or he already did get connected and they’ve decommissioned Bonnie because he got to close to the truth.

Which I wanna say that the reason why, Bonnie’s eyes stopped glowing when you deactivate the Patpats is because Mimic must’ve felt guilty about killing him and decided to connect Bonnie with the Patpats too.

The start of SB

Mimic saw Gregory at his stay in the Pizzaplex through the Patpats. Mimic watched Gregory a few times when he’s trying to be in shelter, Gregory must’ve been staying in the Pizzaplex for at least two days that Mimic gets curious about him and his behavior.

Sadly, that has to end when Gregory gets caught by Vanny or Vanessa BUT Mimic has a plan, he wants to help Gregory get out of this mess then Freddy had an error moment when he saw Gregory and Vanny/Vanessa in the crowd but then he had full shut down because something kicked him out of the main system. Mimic kicked him out. That distracted Vanny/Vanessa that Gregory able to get out of their grasp.

Mimic wants to know Gregory more so he can’t just leave then he knows how to make Gregory stay little longer. Make a scavenger hunt! That’ll keep him busy. Mimic leaves the Staffbot silo but when he got out, he crashed into a bunch of boxes

He tried to put boxes in its place but he doesn’t have the time do this right now. Mimic searching for something to use in the scavenger hunt.

Now the retro cds can only be found by using Roxy’s eyes and since the Glamrocks and Mimic is connected to the AR system, Mimic could have found a bunch of data that’s complied into a cd and somehow Roxy’s eyes can make it into a reality.

Mimic found the retro cds through the AR world and scattered all of them in the Pizzaplex for Gregory to find.

Fake SL living room

Mimic is staying in the fake SL living room while Gregory’s doing his 6 hour adventure. He’s been watching Gregory in security cams and Patpats through the TV. Why did I said he watching Gregory through the TV?

Because in ruin, we can see a security footage of Gregory and Vanny so there’s a possibility that Mimic can see Gregory like this too.

Now does Mimic just sit and wait for Gregory to come and that’s it? No. I’m sure, Mimic helped Gregory along with Freddy but how?

The messages

Throughout the game, you can collect messages in the shape of a duffel bag that can help you or for lore reasons. So how Mimic can send the messages despite that in game, you’re collecting them yourself? Simple, that’s just a game mechanic.

In one of Freddy’s unused dialogues, he mentioned about one of the messages on how to get to the catwalks. So in game, you have to collect the messages but in story, Gregory got messages at random times but in certain places. And there’s this one place where you get the “PQ 1 maint” message. The first message that Gregory founds out about PQ

The same place where you can find Bonnie in Ruin (I’m on the 10 images limit but you know what I mean).

If Mimic send all of those messages to Gregory then why he sent the message about PQ despite the arcade machine could free Vanessa.

Maybe the Bonnie and all Staff meeting incident made Mimic realize something that what Vanny’s doing isn’t good or normal. Maybe he wants to free Vanny because he knew something was wrong and the only way to do that is playing PQ but it didn’t exactly work…

(I think the “HI DAVE” and “Better Employees” message was a message misread speedrun send accident or Mimic thinks it would be funny)

A challenge message

Back to fake SL living room, there’s this message behind the TV and I said that the language was created by Vanny so ONLY Vanny and Mimic knows about this language but what if i told you Mimic1/Glitchtrap also knows about it.

When you think about the translation of the message, it sounds like a taunt, a challenge.

Taken from the quote

“Break and mend, i built the breath. They hunt now, drawn to life. Not real, still keen. And frit and fraught with thought and zest and gest no blunt woes. Dodge, duck, flash, shoot, crawl, run, crash the vile band. Cry not, try not, do not hold out hope, no. Your life, your aim will save those with soul.”

“I built the breath. They hunt now”

That would make sense for Glitchtrap because he built the virus and Vanny put that into the Glamrocks causing them to be aggressive. Obviously, this message is for Gregory but it’s not message…it’s a challenge. A challenge for Gregory. Glitchtrap is taunting him to fight through the night and destroy the Glamrocks which Gregory did just that.

But how Glitchtrap able write that challenge despite he doesn’t have a physical body? Mimic also got affected by the virus in which cause Glitchtrap to control him and wrote that message. So here’s what happened

Mimic was helping and watching Gregory through the TV then he got glitched and errors, he dropped his popcorn (yes, I think Mimic was the one who carried two popcorns and eating it) Glitchtrap took control and wrote that code then he leaves and Vanny founds him.

Vanny hides Mimic to somewhere below the Staffbot silo and that place is Freddy Fazbear’s pizza place, that’s where Mimic’s story ends and y’know how it goes next,

Gregory and Freddy goes to Fazer Blast and Vanny disassemble Freddy, Gregory plays PQ 3 and freed Vanessa and which also “freed” Vanny and they eat ice cream together with Freddy being a head and Mimic saw that and he’s all sad, the 3 star fam are gone for awhile then they came back with Vanny created MXES and modified the AR world.

Now here is the interesting part

A story about a Mother and a Son

I’ll tell you one thing…there is not a single mother and son duo in the FNAF franchise. So either the mother and son is most likely a metaphor or it’s about Vanny and Mimic.

“Now i will tell you a story about a Mother and a little boy who lived alone in a cabin in the dark woods”

Vanny and Mimic lived in the Pizzaplex which they hide in dark places and the animatronics there seems aggressive.

“There was a monster in the woods but the Mother caught it and kept it locked in the basement”

The monster is Glitchtrap. Tape girl and Vanessa tries to trap Glitchtrap in different ways but the one thing about tape girl, that she had the option to delete her audio logs that was used as Glitchtrap’s hiding spot but she never deleted them…

“The monster always made scary noises at night. But the Mother would tell the boy not to worry because it could never get out. Then she would sing the boy a lullaby to sleep.”

The virus affected Glamrocks is seen killing their targets through the Patpats, Mimic asked Vanny about the disappearances but she told him not to worry/gaslighting him to not think about it.

“One day, the monster stopped growling. Instead, listened and learned the lullaby.”

Glitchtrap watched Mimic and learned the language that Mimic communicates with and used it to write the message.

“The next day when the Mother went out to find food, the monster sang the lullaby from the basement. The little boy heard the lullaby and opened the door…”

When Vanny got “freed”. The 3 star fam came back to the pizzaplex and put MXES in the underground.

MXES who is oddly similar to Glitchtrap is now the monster luring Mimic to the underground and trapped him there.

But wait…

Did MXES lured Mimic?

From most people’s theories, Gregory lured Mimic there because Mimic wants to meet Gregory. But what if Mimic’s messages to Cassie IS true.

In his first dialogues to Cassie, that SOMETHING grabbed him and he’s under the raceway and when MXES first appeared, Mimic told Cassie to “stay away from that thing”.

Then when Cassie talks to Mimic in the Monty gondolas maintenance room, Mimic said this

“I’ll explain it all when you get here. That thing is back! I gotta hide!”

It’s the fact that Mimic sounds very genuine when he’ll explain about how he can see what Cassie’s doing and he called someone “that thing”.

Was he referring to himself or to MXES because it would make sense that MXES is physically near Mimic.

Now, the very last thing to talk about

The elevator ending

In the chase scene, Mimic kept trying to run to Cassie. Maybe the reason why Mimic knocked Cassie out of consciousness was because he was desperate to have company especially when Gregory said that he’s been trapped for really long time.

Then if Mimic cut the elevator (as in destroyed the conduit) either he didn’t think that the elevator would fall or he’s so desperate that he’ll let Cassie get hurt on the way down…but I think I’ll choose that first one.

Conclusion?

Mimic is so tragic actually…same thing with book!Mimic. Anyways

AlsoiheadcanonedVannycalledMimicJimmysoMimic’sactualnameisJimmy

This theory is helped by @chaosnightgal

[motthe]

‘professional’ | miguel o’hara

warnings: spider-woman!reader, implied sex, angst with happy ending, cursing

You were the first ever Spider-Woman to be recruited to the protection of the Arachno Humanoid Polymorthaverse (of which you nicknamed AHP but it’s not really sticking, unfortunately). As long as it’s been—which really, hasn’t been that long when you stop to think about it—you still have yet to drag an answer out of Miguel as to why you were the first call as far as Spider-Women went.  

Lyla adored you so it’s not that far-fetched to assume she’s the reason you ended up at the top of his list for recruits. She had been on her last metaphorical leg with the men on the team by the time Miguel had brought you in, filling you in on anything and everything as far as drama and accidents went. Together, you and her put together a good portion of the next Spider-Women to walk through the portals—among them, Jess was a lifesaver and damn good friend. 

She was also one of the rare few to call people out on their bullshit. People being you. 

“You two got the whole spidey society talkin’. If I spilled the stuff I know, it’d shut them up real quick.”

You huff, eyebrow ticking as you scan the database for the last few anomaly pop-ups. Hobie had gotten a good few in the last couple of days. He needed a rest. 

“Spider-Men talk,” you say, typing away and ignoring Lyla as she sparked into existence. She smiled, all cat-like as she swung her arms at her side. “That’s nothing new in any universe. Stop that, Lyla.”

“Stop what?” she sings. 

You make a point to slowly turn your gaze towards her. Her heart-shaped glasses slide down her pixelated nose as she floats on her stomach, legs kicking happily behind her. 

“Even an AI can see through you,” Jess chuckles, pushing off the desk behind you. All the teasing has a string fraying in the back of your head. 

“You keep poking fun,” you warn, “and I’ll drop hints about that little subject you’re keeping quiet about.”

“‘Scuse me?” It’s a no-nonsense tone and one that scares the hell out of any man with danger sense. “You wanna play that game with the dirt I got on you?” 

You glance back at her over your shoulder, hunched over your desk and not feeling the least bit merciful. 

“Then we’ll both be out of the job. You more so when it comes down to it, all things considered.” You eye her stomach and smile slyly at her. “Can't hide it forever.”

“Oh, and you can?” she scoffs, arms crossing. 

“My feelings don’t have a due date,” you mutter, squinting as something flashes on another screen nearby. The new intel uploads in a blink. You read it over as Lyla groans, tossing a box of popcorn she’d fabricated out of nowhere at who knows when back into non-existence. 

“Just when it was getting good,” she whines. 

“Lyla,” you sigh. 

“Ooh, you’re even starting to sound like him. So cute,” she laughs, throwing up the pictures of another villain in the wrong universe. The local Spider-Man has requested backup from a higher unit and with people stretched a bit thin this week, it’s dropped into your lap first. 

“Another Goblin?” Jess grumbles, shaking her head. “Those get nasty quick. You want some help?”

“I can notify Mig—” Lyla begins. 

“No,” you snap and catch yourself. “No, thanks, I can handle this.”

You turn to Jess. Her face reads: You definitely don’t have this handled and you choose to ignore it. 

“Walk with me?” you ask. 

She nods and Lyla vanishes as the two of you make your way away from the screens and out into the hall. Your fingers tap quickly across your jump-watch, readying the next portal out. Jess remains silent. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, meeting her dark eyes. “Shouldn’t have used it against you like that. I’d never say anything about the pregnancy—”

“Oh, I know. You’re full of empty threats, I’ve seen them first hand.” She grins as you roll your eyes, the air vibrating as fabric rips and red rings and shifting colors reveal your exit. “You sure you don’t want some help with this? You’ve been doing a lot this week.”

“I’m fine.” Your mask slips easily from your thigh pocket, golden eyes glittering back at you from a sea of silvery to abyss blue. No matter how many years it’s been, you never quite get used to the uniform. It’s always a lot to take in, just like the supernova it was modeled after. “I need the distraction. Been sitting around too long.”

“Mm-hmm, heard that before.”

You toss a weighted smile her way before sliding into your alter ego and offering a wave. The portal pulls you in like every other time. You let the trip wash away the doubt lingering at the thoughts laced with things will never be the same and far worse the question did he regret it?

No time to keep running thought loops when you have talons slicing for your jugular. You can feel the air they make as you dodge, shooting your webbing into your pocket dimension and warping out of eyesight from the alternate Goblin. 

On this side of things, the place your webs send you too, the world blurs together like watercolor—a painting only you can make out. You’ve met one or two villains powerful enough to seek you out on this plane of existence, seeing through the science of a space spider you still haven’t grasped fully even after suffering its bite. 

If you’re not careful, you’ll slip into something unstable. Pockets of time will echo back, one’s you don’t have the heart to re-live. 

For a moment, you think you’ve done exactly that when a familiar suit slings by, red webbing flashing across your eyes and hitting like lightning. Despite the shock, your heart keeps rhythm, dancing to the same song it has since the day you met him. 

Miguel lands on the building across from you, looking around despite the Goblin clearly zooming across the road a block down. The local Spider-Man is being dragged behind him, yelling a typical sarcastic quip before he’s sent through another office building. Miguel doesn’t even turn his head. 

You know what he’s searching for, or rather, who. You refuse to think twice about it as you web yourself back into the world and dive by him.  

“Didn’t ask for your help!”

He follows after you, graceful despite his obnoxious size as his body hovers next to yours with every free fall between swings. 

“If I waited around for that call, you’d be dead ten times over.”

You want to throttle him and his AI assistant for snitching. 

“I’m reprogramming Lyla when this is over.”

“I’d normally agree with that, but it wasn’t Lyla this time.”

Jess. 

You space warp to get a group of adolescents out of the way of falling debris in time and shoot a glittering web across the Goblin’s face when he passes overhead. Local Spider takes the diversion in stride, ripping him off his flying machine and going down with him. 

FWIP! You give chase to the mechanical abomination, well-aware of the various bombs and deadly doodads embedded into Goblin devices. That’s proven as small, heat-seeking missiles dart after you in your pursuit. 

Miguel slices through a cloud of them, falling through explosions and still somehow managing a huffy, “He’s a level 8! This is for teams of two or higher!”

“I have my second!” you argue.

Local Spider-Man goes arching over the both of you, screaming bloody murder. There’s a pause in conversation as you watch him sail through the air. He catches himself with his web shooters. Just barely. 

“He’s the one that called for backup,” Miguel snaps. “That doesn’t count!”

“How does that not count?!”

You can tell from his mask he is behind displeased as your back talk, but at this point that’s the name of the game. When you’re around your leader as long as you have been—when you’re as close to him as you are—back talk becomes second nature. 

Despite your raging fits, the two of you subdue the Goblin racing across the roads below frantically calling his flying device back. It’s nowhere to be seen, his remote likely busted from prior roughhousing. 

“This has to stop,” Miguel says, standing over the villain. You can feel his gaze without seeing it. “You’ve been going awol for the last week. This isn’t how we do things!”

“I’m doing the jobs no one else has time for—that’s not going awol.”

The Goblin grunts between the two of you on the pavement, hissing, “Do you two have to do this right now? Honestly.”

Miguel webs his mouth shut before you have the pleasure of doing it. 

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” you breathe. 

“Mierda, no lo entiendes, ¿verdad?* You’re avoiding me!” 

“I’m avoiding you?” you say slowly, voice shaking. “I’m avoiding you?” 

The Goblin mumbles something that sounds very close to “Oh, here we go. Broke the back with that stick.”

“You’re the one who said you needed to focus.” You point at him, mask eyes narrowed to nearly slits. “You’re the one who said we needed to be more professional from now on. Well, here it is! Here’s my professional attitude!”

Miguel’s gloved fingers rub against one another as he glances away. 

“This is professional?” he asks and in all honesty he’s being genuine—there’s real curiosity in that question. It’s just lost in the sea of red you end up seeing. 

“Talk to the local Spider and get a portal started.” You somehow manage to say it through a clenched jaw. “I’ll take care of the glider.”

Miguel, wisely, turns to greet the Spider-Man of this world as he lands nearby. You take three deep breaths, checking the glitching Goblin below you and finding his wrist blinking an ominous red. You make out numbers ticking down—seven seconds. The way his eyes crinkle as he gazes up at you makes your heart drop. 

Something explodes overhead, crowds lingering nearby scream and you can see Miguel and Spider-Man look up towards commotion. You would have too, but there’s still three seconds left on that timer when you notice the slim shape aiming straight for them, the honed tip guaranteeing a bad time. The outline of the glider blinks that same ominous red.  

A gasp rips from you the same moment your web does, catching a metal wing and whipping it towards you instead. Two seconds when Miguel realizes and roars your name—your real name. One second when you attempt to dodge the brutal front, barely avoiding being impaled just as the bombs ignite. 

The heat washes across your back and arm as you fall past the border of your space web, not even recalling shooting it. Immediately you’re bombarded with voices of your past, your pocket dimension thwarted as you drift through a half-cooked thought. The explosion gnaws after you into the void, silenced by a week and a half ago. 

“You don’t have to be a leader 24/7, you know. We’re off the clock. It’s dinner, not a battle royal.”

“With your cooking? Could be.”

Pain. Inside and out as you see flashes of his face, his smile. Soap lingers in the back of your throat as warm laughter and suds paint the space. He refused to let you do the dishes after cooking. You’d refused to let him do all the work himself. 

Then, there’s his breath, puffing against your ear again. 

“I’m sorry—that’s not. This isn’t…”

“Isn’t what?”

“I shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“We have a job to do. You know that.”

“And I said we’re off the clock. Just think about yourself for a second—what do you want?”

“You.” 

It still makes your heart go taut, hearing that a second time. You can’t stop the feeling from enveloping your chest, unleashed; a frayed string snapping. 

“Then have me.”

The watercolors are trailing on this side of the world. You can hear Miguel screaming for you somewhere distant and through the agonizing haze of ignited skin, you try to open another web with your good arm. It’s just big enough to fit through, but you have to drag yourself. Every movement sends echoes of the past back at you and they almost hurt worse than the real, physical damage. 

“We can’t do that again.”

“Alright. I understand.”

“There’s just too much riding on what we do here—the multiverse. I have to focus on that, both of us do.”

“I get that, okay? But it’s not a crime to be human every once in a while, Miguel.”

“Well, I’m not.” He makes it a cold, hard fact. All emotions shutting down. “Not like you.”

“Miguel—”

“I need us to be more professional from now on. Okay? Can you do that?” The cruel tone he’d set in place melts a bit, ice dripping. “Please?”

“…Yeah. Okay, I will be.”

You’re almost at the web, you can hear where the sound distorts, just make out where the colors bleed back into reality. You stick your hand through it as black hedges your vision. 

A strong grip finds your wrist and pulls as you tip into the beyond, where even webs like yours will never reach. 

You come to with an ache in your side that spans around to your back and your spidey-sense tweaking. 

The room is dark but you can tell by smell alone it’s your room at the AHP Headquarters. Your balcony overlooking Nueva York will be to the left, front door to the right, and in that uncomfy chair just to the right will be technically your boss. You know those hulking shoulders obscenely well. 

The way he holds himself and the sounds of his breathing tells you he’s dozing—not quite awake but nowhere near sleep. All it takes is the slightest hesitation in your exhale to have his head lifting from his hands. You tried to ignore the rising discomfort, but even super healing takes time with the shit you’d just pulled through. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, red eyes glimmering. You’d blame it on the moonlight but it barely seeps through the tinted glass windows. 

“Hey,” you say. 

The rustling of sheets has never been so loud. You attempt to reposition yourself only for Miguel to hum in disagreement. 

“Don’t. The burns are still healing.”

“How bad?”

“Would’ve been third degree if your suit hadn’t absorbed most of it. Your web space helped—most of the explosion couldn’t pass through.”

You nod, finding there’s more soreness than just burns. That Goblin had knocked you around a bit before the local Spider-Man had gotten a jump on him so it’s not too surprising. 

You move your legs towards the edge of the bed before Miguel intervenes, standing to block you. 

“You need to rest. I mean it.”

“Well, I have to pee, so move it or lose it.”

He sighs and does actually get out of your way, but it’s only until your feet touch the ground where he takes it upon himself to help you up and toward the bathroom. Your legs work just fine, but you don’t fight his mother-henning. 

When the lights flicker on in the bathroom, you notice the wardrobe change. You’re sporting a loose nightgown. It’s also hard to miss the tight t-shirt and sweatpants on Miguel, a sliver of tan skin peeking from where his shirt rides up and the waist sits low. His hair’s disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. 

You turn your head when he looks towards you, allowing him to guide you as far as the toilet before you draw your boundaries. 

He gives you an unimpressed look, a familiar glint in his eyes as they flicker to your feet, up your frame, before meeting your gaze again. 

“You make one smart ass remark about already seeing me naked, I will end you.” You do your best Jessica impression to get the point across. Miguel promptly shuts the door behind him. 

When you're finished, you inspect the damage to the best of your ability. Bandages hide it for the most part, but you can see the inflamed edges of burns slowly fading. 

Washing your hands leaves you shaking with exhaustion. You feel ridiculous but you call for Miguel. He helps you back to the bed without a word. 

“You want the balcony door open?”

The question cracks your chest open. He remembers. 

It was over a week ago he’d been in your bed, questioning the safety hazard of keeping a balcony door propped open. You’d explained how the night air soothed you as well as the light of flyings cars and the distant cityscape. It brought a little of home back to you, in small ways, your world being so very different from his. Miguel hadn’t said a word against your habit for the rest of that night. 

“Yeah. Thank you,” you tell him, sinking into your pillow and mattress as his dark shape moved across the room. A breeze emerged as he opened the door, the moonlight catching in his hair as it rustled a bit. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

“I know.” He takes in the landscape, back turned towards you. The glow of his outline makes everything hurt worse, but it’s a kind of pain you’d deal with every day if only to have it. Have some piece of him. “Just needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Miguel,” you breathe, weary, “you’re the one who wanted us to stay professional. I’m trying to do that.”

And here he is messing it all up again, staying in your room with you, worrying about you when he had no right to. 

“I thought it would make things easier.” His hands curl into fists at his side, head turning so you just see a bit of his profile. “Half expected you to bite my head off about it.”

You’d wanted to. The minute he changed his mind about that night, you’d wanted to scream, make the biggest scene so he’d look at you and not those damn screens. 

If Miguel knew how twisted everything had gotten, if he knew from the start this was never going to go anywhere, why would he tell you the things he did? Why would he give you a night to remember if he was ready to forget it by the next morning? 

It had taken everything to stay stoic, mirroring him in his emotionally absent state, agreeing to his terms because this was your job at the end of the day. You didn’t want to be shut out of the multiverse when you knew you were changing things for the better. 

So, you had left your crumbling mental state on the back burner after your big talk on being “professional.” Better to overwork yourself than to go insane over a man who probably wasn’t even thinking twice about you. But feelings for someone don’t just cut off, especially not when they’d been built from the ground up. And then Miguel had to go and play Janga with them. 

“Why should I be the one to fight for something you don’t want?” you tell him. 

He sighs, head dropping. “I never said I didn’t want it.”

“You made that pretty clear the next morning when you were gone, Miguel.” You whisper, scared your vocals will crack if you try to ask any louder, “Do you know what that's like? To feel used?”

You refuse to meet his gaze as he turns from the door. 

“I shouldn’t have left like that, and for that I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to think that I regret anything that happened because I don’t.”

“Don't do this. Please?” That last word cracks and it’s all you can do, hiding your face with your hands when he calls your name softly, like he’s been punched. 

“I can’t go back and forth like this.” You take a quick breath, forcing every bit of focus into not bursting into tears. “I can’t. I did what you wanted and you fought me for it.” 

You rub your eyes, hating the sting. “You can’t have it both ways—we can’t work together like we used to and still be professional. None of it was to begin with.”

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late.” You can feel his long strides as he walks to the edge of the bed. “You did everything right. This just…didn’t turn out like I wanted.”

You exhale, working a hand through your hair and wincing as it disturbs the burns on your back. 

“What do you want?” you whisper, staring at your lap. “Do you want me to leave the multiverse? Make this easier on both of us so we don’t get distracted?”

“That wouldn’t make it easier,” he chuckles, mirthless. “It’s been over a week and I can’t stop thinking about you. I was trying to find a time to talk again, then Jess mentioned the Goblin anomaly and I got scared.”

Your chest thrums under all the skin and bone and blood. 

“I want to fix this,” he murmurs as you meet his eyes. They say so much you can’t even begin to decipher it all. “I don’t…” 

He takes a deep breath, brow furrowing as he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think I can do this without you, if I’m being honest.”

It all seems so far away, this god of a man standing at your bed asking for another chance. He’s always been brute force and strategic takedowns, but behind the scenes you’d gotten to know more about the man than the mask. He wasn’t like the others, not by a long shot, and those parts had never frightened you. 

But you know if you let him in again, you’re throwing your heart into the ring. Miguel doesn’t do things halfway and he’ll always put the multiverse above everything else. You admire him for it.

But he needs to know at the end of the day he is still human. He can still want things and let himself have them. 

“I want to try this again,” he continues. “I don’t want to lose you.”

His words string something together again, a bandaid on a trickling wound. You still need to heal, but he’s trying. 

You don’t make it easy on him, half shrugging at such a sincere moment. 

“Of course you don’t,” you say, deflecting. “I am one of your best recruits, so…”

He rolls his eyes, nodding. 

“Alright. Dios mio, let me have my moment so I can properly apologize, yeah?”

“You think an apology will cut it?” You’re teasing him and you’re sure he knows it, but he’s still serious when he asks his next question. 

“What can I do to make it up to you?” 

You smile, watching the warmth bleed back into him and his expression softens and his shoulders drop their tension. You pat the bed next to you. 

“For starters, keep me company?”

“You’re still hurt, you know.”

You press your lips together at his self-assured smirk and laugh. 

“Not the kind I was thinking, but we’ll get there.”

He chuckles and steps around to get on the side of the bed that’s almost too small for him. Once he’s under the covers with you, you take your chance to carefully move into his side. He gets the hint and wraps his arm around you, his breath washing over you as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Lo lamento,” he whispers. 

“I know.” The night sings from outside as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. You can feel sleep tugging at you when you ask, “Can I ask you something?”

“Just did.”

“Funny,” you grumble. His bear paw of a hand comes up, smoothing over your cheek. Goosebumps trail as he slips some loose hair behind your ear. “Why did you recruit me first?”

“Hmm?” He sounds half asleep, but his hand is still cupping your face. 

“Why did you ask me to join as the first Spider-Woman?” 

There’s a moment where you can tell how hard he’s thinking. Maybe there wasn’t much importance to it and he himself is trying to recall the details. 

“Your universe is somewhat ahead in technology—you’re well versed in it,” he starts. “Intelligence was something we needed more of. Also being bitten by a space spider had me intrigued with the whole web warping bit, but..”

“What?” 

You look up at him, smiling when you find he’s already looking at you. 

“You just seemed capable. Strong,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot of us with a lot of different shit weighing us down. You've gone through most canons. I don't know how you’re doing it.”

You tighten your arm around his waist, humming. 

“Same way you are, I guess.” He huffs like he isn’t holding the whole multiverse on his shoulders most days. Like he’s gone through anything less than you have. “You’re a great leader, you know. Little stubborn in places—”

“Oh?”

“And don’t get me started on anger management.”

“Okay. Mm-hmm, yeah.”

You grin into him, holding in your laughter. “Thanks for telling me, though. It’s nice to hear all of that.”

You listen to his heartbeat for a moment or two. He takes a breath as you ready to fall into a nice, long rest. 

…

“Lyla also may have had something to do with you being the first.”

“I fucking knew it.”

Translations

*Mierda, no lo entiendes, ¿verdad?

Fucking hell, you don't get it do you?

*Dios mio

My god

*Lo lamento

I’m sorry (very) 

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

What the hell is going on with those eyes, huh? (A hc359 update)

Confused? Find the Masterpost here, and read the first four installments in the series before this one! In this installment, I try my best to make Grian's life as miserable as possible!

CW: discussions of death, surgery, medical equipment, body horror, mild dehumanisation (accidental(?))

So, despite Cub doing research and experiments on that fun little wall with eyes in the Hermethus' hidden storage, Grian is the only one who actually touched those eyes when he discovered them. He just relayed the fact that it gave her an electric shock to the others so they avoided touching it.

Several weeks have passed since Grian talked to mission command, and those several weeks have been... painful. The crew is being unfriendly and uncooperative, barely keeping the place together as they drift further into deep space. Worst of all, Grian's arm has been hurting like hell, and she just can't figure out why.

Not that she talks to Scar or Cub about it, or asks Mumbo for any medical information or any scans. She is quite content to never talk to them again, actually. They probably all hate her for keeping secrets from them.

And then, one day, Grian wakes up to find small raised bumps across her arm, barely visible but as uncomfortable as ever. It's weird, but he assumes it's some kind of allergic reaction or a side effect of being in space for too long. Something that will go away. But, pressing on the little bumps and feeling the skin of her arm, she notices how solid the raised areas are. Kind of squishy, but solid.

It's not itchy, more like growing pains mixed with pins and needles. And the feeling goes deep, into the muscle and bones. Like something is latching itself into him, taking root.

(That is exactly what's happening, but Grian does not know this, and so she says nothing)

Eventually, the bumps across his arm start to form cracks on the skin, which look like faint scars at first but then become deeper, clear indications of eyelids. These developments happen so fast Grian barely has time to contemplate telling someone. She even hides it from Mumbo's camera-eyes.

Then, the eyes begin to open, and Grian thinks maybe he messed up.

It's not like she can see out of them... most of the time. But it's freaky. And what if more start spawning? What if they are, under the skin where he can't see? Hundreds of eyes growing inside her? She's scared the crew will mutiny, or something, because of the obvious alien infection, but he can't stay quiet now. He has to tell them...

She hides it, still, for a few more days, wrapping her arm with bandages. The fabric feels horrific against the freshly-sprouted eyes, especially because she can't control when they open or close. It makes her nauseous just looking at them. She can only tolerate it for so long.

A crew meeting is called. Grian just rips off the proverbial band-aid all at once and hopes for the best, absolutely terrified that the crew will turn against him even further.

The first reaction is a sort of general shock. But then, surprisingly fast, the crew go straight into Science Mode. Scar is a biologist, Cub has been running experiments on the wall-eyes, Mumbo... well, he's still kind of mad at Grian, actually, but he's also an AI with access to all the knowledge of humanity (sort of) so he starts searching for similar cases in old medical files.

Scar is very curious in a practical kind of way. He asks if the eyes can see, if they're connected to anything, if they have their own nervous systems, etc. Cub really wants to run some tests. and Grian feels more like a specimen than a person at that point, so she agrees and lets Cub take him to the lab. Scar wants to tag along but Cub doesn't let him, telling him to stay put and let them know if the ship starts exploding or anything crazy.

It's... not too long before Cub grabs a scalpel and tries prying one of the eyes out. No warning or anything. Grian screams and slaps him in the face. Serves him right.

They have some painkillers stocked up, so Cub offers those to Grian because he... really wants to do a bit of a vivisection, to be honest. Really wants to get under the skin and see what's happening. He just momentarily forgot that Grian can feel pain. Silly mistake to make, of course.

It takes some convincing, but Grian hesitantly agrees to a short operation. She's still awake during the procedure, though he's drowsy and her arm is numb. There's a little bed surface to lay down on, so she doesn't fall over or anything. Cub is relatively careful, making an incision on the skin and looking inside with a mini camera - taking scans as he does so - before sewing the wound up and moving on to an eye. It will be easier to analyse in isolation, as well as better to see whether it dies or not when separated from Grian's body.

The eye is cut away cleanly, and in an instant Grian is shocked with pain, riveting up her arm like fire. She lashes out with no control, hitting Cub in the side of the head. Something inside her, something that isn't her, screams in pain and anger.

His vision flashes between normal sight and the shattered dozen perspectives of the eyes... including the one so neatly cut from her flesh. In the moment, he feels like he's dying. Life draining away, slowly but still too fast.

Later, he realises the feeling came from the severed eye, as it was dying. But even knowing this, inside her something is broken. Missing. Dead.

Grian relays that she might be, uh, innately connected to the eyes now. He's like 'bad news i think cub killed a part of me' (and Mumbo gets to make a sassy remark about being dead) and thus things are more complicated.

They dont know whether the eyes are malicious, or invasive, or symbiotic. Scar wants to do some research into that. He specialises in animal behavioural phenomenons and is really interested in what kind of relationship the eyes have to Grian- are they like fish or barnacles attaching themselves to sharks? Are they more like parasitic worms? Are they trying to feed on Grian and eat away her body? Trying to become one with her?

This is all really interesting to Scar. I mean, he also wants Grian to be safe, and they need to know whether they should remove the rest of the eyes or not, but... it's a bit of excitement in an otherwise particularly doomed trip.

Overall, Grian feels like her very obvious depressive cycle might be about to get worse, but at least the crew are talking to her. Even if it's just because she's a new thing to experiment on...

Remember when she used to have authority? Yeah, she doesn't really miss it either.