#think of your monster and how it did the same to you

[kxsagi]

aged up blue lock men of your choice where they already perfected their skills in every aspect with their girlfriend who wants to try soccer for the first time so the blue lock men jokingly tried to show off their signature move and then reader thinking he might be asking her to replicate it, did exactly that except they didn't expected their gf to execute it perfectly (it took them years, it took her a glance)

“𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫”

a/n: the header is everything

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, mikage reo, niko ikki

itoshi rin

he was just trying to be funny, okay? 

you'd asked him to teach you how to play, and he just... showed off a bit. a simple top-corner shot – full sprint, perfect form, sharp angle. you clapped. 

“so you want me to do that?” 

he snorted. “no, not unless you’re secretly a prodigy or something.” 

but then you jog up. barely even take a second to aim. and the ball swerves – a perfect curve into the same damn top corner. 

he just stands there. arms crossed. blinking. 

“… did you google my entire playstyle last night?” 

you: “no?” 

rin: “are you possessed?” 

he’s so irrationally offended, but also stunned and a little in love because what do you MEAN you just felt like it???

itoshi sae

you ask for help and he stretches dramatically like he’s being forced to tutor a child. 

“fine. observe a prodigy.” 

he lines up, slow-walks to the ball like a diva, and hits one of those cheeky no-look chips into the goal. smirks.  

“okay, now you.” 

you mimic everything – down to the posture, the lazy half-step, and then bam, the same result. ball lands in the net with that same crisp curve. 

“… huh.” 

he walks up to you and pokes you in the forehead. 

“how did that come from you?” 

you stick your tongue out. “you said observe a prodigy, right?” 

he’s lowkey smiling the entire time and won’t admit it. 

“okay, whatever, prodigy #2. try dribbling next, i bet you suck at that.” (he’s bluffing. he knows you’re about to humble him again.)

isagi yoichi

you just wanted a basic lesson. but your sweet boyfriend enters meta vision. 

“okay, okay, watch this. it’s my direct shot. this took me years, okay?” 

he explains angles. timing. leg strength. strategy. he’s so passionate you almost feel bad. 

until you try it. 

and the ball flies – same angle, same power, right into the net. 

he’s speechless. like, “did you just… wait what???” 

you: “was that it?” 

him: “was that it?? LOVE, THAT TOOK ME YEARS OF DEVASTATION AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.” 

he's so happy and offended all at once, like this is not how shonen arcs work 😭

but he also makes you recreate it ten more times while filming it for proof. his screensaver is now you landing a direct shot. 

nagi seishiro

this man literally yawns before showing you his “signature” trap-and-volley. it’s so clean it looks fake. 

“alright, try it. but it’s kinda hard.” 

you look at him. “you mean like this?” 

and you trap it mid-air and volley it in one fluid motion. 

he blinks. 

“whoa.” 

you: “was that right?” 

him: “um, i think you just stole my whole flow.” 

nagi’s not mad tho. he’s excited. now he has someone to do lazy genius duos with. 

he immediately suggests skipping the rest of practice and just going pro together. 

bachira meguru 

he’s full of sparkles and spins the ball on his finger before juggling it in a zig-zag pattern across the field like a circus act. 

“okay cutie, your turn, but don’t stress if it’s messy the first ten years.” 

you blink. “you want me to do that?” 

him: “LOL nooo… unless???” 

you try it. and by some miracle or muscle memory from dance or gymnastics or whatever divine chaos lives in your body, you nail the dribble. 

he screeches. 

like full volume. picks you up and spins you like a helicopter. 

“you’re possessed by a soccer god!!! teach me!!!” 

he’s immediately calling you his monster twin and demands matching cleats and jersey numbers. 

training is now just the two of you goofing around and inventing new flashy combos. 

kaiser michael

he was only demonstrating. not asking you to compete. 

“watch and learn, liebling,” he says, tossing you a wink. 

then he pulls off his signature kaiser impact like it’s casual. 

you clap. “so… you want me to do that?” 

“obviously not. unless you want to destroy your feet.” 

you attempt it anyway. 

and somehow, your shot is smoother. it hits the net harder. and you land with zero effort. 

kaiser’s jaw is on the floor. 

“did you… did you just out-kaiser me?” 

you blink innocently. “i thought i was just copying?” 

he is in his villain arc. he stares off dramatically and mutters “she’s my greatest rival” under his breath. 

but he’s also holding your hand the entire walk home like you just saved his life. 

shidou ryusei

“alright baby, this one’s hot.” 

he launches himself into a wild, mid-air scissor kick like an absolute maniac. 

lands on his feet, smirks, and flexes. 

“that was sexy, right?” 

you raise an eyebrow. “i can try.” 

he laughs. laughs. “what are you gonna do, cartwheel and break your nose?” 

and then you scissor kick it perfectly. 

not only that, you somehow make it look graceful. 

he’s silent. 

then bursts into laughter and tackles you into the grass. 

“BROOOO you’re cracked!!! marry me again!!!” 

he now insists on being your hype man every single time you breathe near a soccer ball. 

“watch out, my girl’s got hops and precision. she’s a menace.” 

karasu tabito

karasu, the king of cool, casually rolls the ball up with his foot and does one of his famous elastic cuts followed by a no-look assist shot. 

“kinda difficult. probably too fast to pick up on first try,” he smirks. 

you try. you nail it. 

first try. no hesitation. 

the ball glides into the net like you’ve been doing it since birth. 

karasu slowly removes his imaginary sunglasses. 

“… are you a government experiment?” 

you: “is that your way of saying good job?” 

he’s lowkey impressed and also mildly panicked that he might not be the slickest one in the relationship anymore. 

but he gets over it quick and says, “cool. we should do duo trick shots and make money.” 

mikage reo

reo is SO dramatic about teaching you. 

he plans a whole lesson, brings cones, makes a playlist. 

“this is gonna be our bonding day, babe! you’ll learn from the best.” 

you: “okay, show me something fancy.” 

reo: “say less.” 

he dribbles between cones with lightning footwork and ends with a clean nutmeg-shot combo. 

then turns and bows. 

“good luck topping that–” 

you do it. all of it. smoother. faster. even add a little spin at the end. 

reo’s soul leaves his body. 

“HOW???” 

you shrug. “i just… watched?” 

he is clapping like a proud stage mom but also spiraling a little. 

“okay, but i still look better doing it, right? right???” 

he makes you wear matching jerseys and calls you his "soccer power couple" for a week straight. 

niko ikki

you ask him for soccer tips and he gets all shy but serious. 

“o-okay… just, uh, follow my lead.” 

he does this intense, stealthy feint he’s known for, disappearing around your blind spot and curving it in. 

he’s proud. it’s his baby move. 

then you do it. perfectly. with the same footwork, the same angle, the same curve. first try. 

he stares at you in disbelief. 

“was that… did you just read my blind spot?” 

you: “i mean… yeah? it made sense.” 

he looks at the ground. 

“am i… obsolete?” 

you immediately shower him with praise, telling him you learned it because he made it look so cool. 

he softens. 

“… okay. just don’t start covering your forehead, too. we can’t both be mysterious.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[inthekitschen]

Jabberwock and Sinostra Ghouls when you tell them you're pregnant

How I think the ghouls would react to having a baby with you, part 2.

Note: Somehow, Taiga's was my favorite to write so far. He's just so fun to put under a microscope.

*reader can get pregnant but is not given gendered pronouns.

The Ranger cries when you tell him. He lifts you and spins you around in excitement, promising to never let you down. And he doesn't. He carries you everywhere. You will never lift a finger, because if you try, he uses bahnti to get to it first.

When the baby arrives, Peekaboo's harness is moved to the back to make room. Haru takes your baby everywhere — the free advertising isn't his main reason for doing it, but it definitely helps.

The Free Spirit knew you were pregnant before you did, somehow. He never leaves your side throughout your pregnancy, and the weather is always sunny and bright.

The Slacker doesn't want kids. They're sticky, loud, and too much work. So when you tell him about the positive test, why does he feel a sudden rush of... joy? It takes him a while to come to terms with his feelings, but once he does, he's excited.

Towa takes the baby everywhere. You have to reign him in and remind him that infants are pretty limited in what they're allowed to do. He's just so happy that he has the both of you!

His favorite thing to do is dress the baby up in merch of his favorite movies. When Halloween comes, he's definitely putting your child in a monster costume. He gags when it comes to cleaning up a blowout, and complains about getting up in the middle of the night, but you catch him watching your sleeping child in awe.

The Gambler knows something is up with you. You're bitchier, but hotter too. He knows he has to keep an eye on you, to make sure no one fucks with you, but doesn't remember why until you start showing. Once he can't forget that you're pregnant, good fucking luck to anyone who so much as looks at you.

Once his little good luck charm is born, he's taking them to the casino. Gotta show them the ropes early, after all. He doesn't let your child out of his sight. Not to sleep, not to eat, nothing. That way, he won't forget.

The Sniper just about has a heart attack. He makes sure you're taking care of yourself throughout the pregnancy, keeping track of what vitamins you need and how much sleep you should be getting.

He's even more particular about the baby. He does his research on what foods to give them and what to avoid. He even eases up on the acronyms around your child so they're more likely to understand him. Just know that child is decked out in full designer the moment you get home from the hospital.

The Paralegal has been trying with you to get pregnant for some time, so when you finally come to him with the news, he's thrilled! He immediately sets up the doctor's appointment to figure out how far along you are so he can give his firm the notice of his upcoming paternity leave. He makes sure you're following the doctor's orders to the letter, and equally makes sure the doctors are giving the best care.

He plays classical music and reads classic literature to the baby to help them sleep, and has full one-sided conversations with them "because it helps with brain development." From the other room, you can hear your baby scream loudly in excitement and then Ritsu replying "Yes, I'm glad you feel the same way" fully serious.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Monk's Temptation (part 4)

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3-1 ] [ part 3-2 ]

content: masturbation, exhibitionism

Shame. 

He couldn’t bear the shame of what he did. And the idea of you knowing his foul deed. Lord, help him! He ran from the chapter house, tripping down the choir stand like a little monster boy. He locked himself into his cell, trembling, fearing what might happen. Not only to his immortal soul - somehow he was less worried about that - but what would this day change in his life? Would you tell on him? Report him to the abbot? Report him to the police? How would his mother react to learning he’s a sexual deviant? Oh, the shame and humiliation!

He hasn’t left his room the entire day since that event. He was starving, but he didn’t care. He prayed and prayed and prayed… And still, somehow, he thought of you. And how your perfume smelled of lily of the valley.

Atanas decided not to show up on Saturday’s practice, saying he feels unwell. Which wasn’t a lie. But he couldn’t avoid the choir on Sunday, during the mass. It was also his duty to tidy up the church after the congregation leaves. At least he excused himself from singing. He just couldn’t bear being even near you anymore. The temptation to sin was too intense.

Instead, he stood alone, in the back of the church, thinking he didn’t deserve to sit. It was packed, as always, and the choir loft was filled with singers. And you were there too, in a delicate milky white dress, decorated with lace. You had the same hairstyle you always do, but you put some hairpins and some rosy blush on your cheeks. For the first time in his life, Atanas cursed his excellent eyesight.

The preacher spoke wonderfully, in a confident voice, full of life and wisdom, kindness and forgiveness. He should’ve listened to him, yes. He always loved listening to him. But not today. All Atanas' eyes did was watch you, your soft mouth opening and closing, smiling, pouting. Sometimes you would lick your lips or bite the inside of your mouth. When you were silent, you would look down at the congregation as if you were looking for someone. Atanas lowered his head, something bitter pooling inside his heart. Do you have a boyfriend? Are you close? Are you intimate?

He shakes his head and rubs his face. What is wrong with him? How many demons are tormenting him right now? Why is his heart so corrupted?

He tries not to look at you, keeping his eyes on the ground, but after a few minutes, he again lifts his gaze toward the choir loft. It is both heavenly and tormenting, watching you singing, opening and closing your mouth…your warm and wet mouth. He groans, flinches. And yet, he looks again. At your lips, your neck, your breasts; and those parts he can’t see, all of your being hidden underneath the clothes, he imagines. And imagining… isn’t… all that bad. He heard two priests once telling a lewd joke. They had fun, nothing bad happened. He could just… dream up a little bit, couldn’t he?

He imagines that he can push his thumb into your mouth and feel your tongue. That he can slide his arm underneath your dress and grope your soft breast. That he can… kiss you. Oh, how he would love to kiss you! He has never kissed anyone - it must be a wonderful feeling. 

Slowly, listening to the divine notes echoing inside the church, with everyone’s back turned toward him, Atanas walks backward toward the shadowed wall, inside a secluded niche, and pushes his hand under his habit. His manhood is hard and emanating heat. It is painfully bent inside his underwear. 

So wrong. So dirty. So sinful. He tries to remember the prayers and pull out his hand, return to the road of purity. But when he looks at you again, your eyes lock with his. You bite your lip, even though you were supposed to sing. You keep that moist lower lip between your teeth for a few seconds before releasing it. It is now red.

Atanas’ hand pulls out his phallus and wraps his fingers around it. Stop. His manhood is warm, pulsating, smooth. And big. He hasn’t touched himself in more than 10 years. That’s so long. He’ll do it this time. This time, only once. Only once. His hand starts stroking his length. It’s uncomfortable, strange, but there is a pulse of something… irresistible every time he moves his palm. This one time. Just this one time.

He looks at your red and moist lips, and he envisions you opening your mouth to take in his manhood. To lick his tip, and then to lick him whole, and suck and suck and suck…

He climaxes quickly into his palm. It is less satisfying than the last time, as he feels some kind of burning, too. It’s his punishment. If his disgusting organ could just fall off! He wipes his hand against his underwear, feeling utterly unclean and unhappy. He doesn’t look at you anymore.

Once the sermon is finished, and almost everyone left, Atanas takes his broom to sweep the floor, head hanging low. 

“Brother Atanas!” 

Oh no. He sees you walking toward him, a bright smile decorating your plump face. Please. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I did it again!

You check over your shoulder and whisper in a conspirational and playful tone: “Ani.”

Atanas swallows, hating how much that short little nickname sounds delightful on your lips. “Y-yes?”

“Why didn’t you come to practice yesterday? And you didn’t sing today. Are you okay?”

Oh. You were worried about him. That’s… nice. “I am fine, just… sore throat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But…” You take a step closer. Maybe too close in an almost empty church. Atanas takes a step back, sensing your body aroma and his manhood awakening again. You look at him innocently with those big human eyes. “Can you please always come… for me.” Those words! Why did you say those words in such a lewd way? “I would like to get to know you, and choir practices are the only opportunity we have.” You blink, suddenly a lot less bold. “Unless you would prefer not to be friends?”

“Yes!” Atanas blurts out. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I would like to be friends.”

You stifle a giggle. “I’m glad. I hope you enjoyed my singing. I also have a bit of a sore throat, see.” And then you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. An action that almost gives Atanas a stroke. Your lips and tongue look so delicious. 

“Anyway,” you close your mouth and smirk, “see you on Tuesday.”

Just as you turn around to walk away, Atanas grabs your arm, equally surprised as you are. What is he doing? He indeed wanted to stop you, keep you near for a bit longer, but he wasn’t expecting his body to physically stop you. And with the hand he used to...

You look at him, surprised. “Yes?”

“Forgive me!” Atanas releases you and bows. “I… Just wanted to say… I go to the market every Monday.”

A shine of excitement emanates from your face, and you look like a most beautiful painting. “Wonderful! See you tomorrow at the market, Ani.”

Atanas smiles back as you walk away. But his happiness doesn’t last long; he now needs to wash his disgusting hand that touched your beautiful skin. How will he ever atone for that? He looks at his palm, half expecting it to burn because of what he’s done with it. But it stays unblemished. And tomorrow — who knows? All he could think about right now was tomorrow’s meeting with you. He will pray he remains virtuous… but tonight he’ll think about your skin, your lips and smile, and how you say ‘Ani’ with that delectable tongue of yours.

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

Taglist: @blushycadaver @just-kattt @kittycatkandies @sunndust @guess--monster @rs-hawk @frosch-thefrog

[em-harlsnow]

heyy i've never sent an ask before but i just need to tell you that debbie's tiktok is my new favourite thing 😭😭 i genuinely can't stop thinking about them doing different trends and how the fans would react. like imagine a qna with questions from the comments or something with more of the family like a who knows me best: brother/sister vs husband

YES okay. I've been stressed all day and I need this. (Also rewarding myself with writing because I got a result back for some coursework and I was so happy with it)

part 4 of Debbie's TikTok

So Debbie sets up the camera again in the kitchen. Ian and Mickey are less annoyed this time after they realised that she was actually paying them good money for this. She has a list on her phone filled with comments on the introduction to Mickey video.

"Okay, so you're gonna be answering some questions together." Debbie starts. It's the first time the internet will be seeing them together, and she's eager to see the reaction that will come of it. She's going to be careful not to give her audience too much of them, because then she'll get less views and attention and therefore money after they get bored.

"Yeah, you said that." Mickey says.

"She's saying it for the camera." Ian mutters loudly to his husband.

"Alright. I have a list of some of the most liked or most frequent questions asked. The first one is when did you get married?" Debbie asks, ignoring their little comments.

Mickey stares at the side of Ian's head, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Ian asks.

"You better fucking know the answer." Mickey says.

"Of course I do, asshole. Three and a half months ago." Ian answers, smugly grinning in Mickey's face.

"Yep." Debbie says. "It was a really nice day. Next, who proposed to who?" One of the most frequent comments was actually who fucks who, but she doesn't think that's something that should be on the internet. She thinks it's shitty that people think they have the right to know that. She's actually pretty mad that she knows the answer to the question, because it just shows how loud Ian and Mickey are.

"He did." Mickey says. "Because he was being a dick."

Ian sighs. "Yeah, I did."

"Twice." Mickey adds, sulkily.

"We're married, Mickey. And I know you aren't actually still mad about that. You're just looking for something to bitch about." Ian grumbles, flicking Mickey's ear.

"No, I'm not."

"I proposed. And I had a whole speech prepared, but Mickey cut me off. Then he made me repeat it later." Ian says, smiling at the tips of his mouth.

Mickey smirks, leaning back in his chair. He's switched to smug, now. "Yeah."

"Next question was how old were you when you got together?" Debbie asks, planning on letting them have their little arguments and banter and deciding which parts to cut out later. Their dynamic will definitely give her good content.

"I was fifteen." Ian says. "You were... sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Sixteen." Mickey answers. "But that was the first time we fucked, not when we were together."

"Oh, well yeah." Ian agrees. "We were like 18 and 19 or something when we actually got together."

"Yeah." Mickey agrees.

"Okay. So, who's more romantic?" Debbie asks. It's not a particularly long list, but they both talk a lot, so it will make a decent video.

"I am." Ian says.

"Neither of us." Mickey says at the same time.

"I'm romantic." Ian argues, pouting about it.

"How?"

"I made you breakfast yesterday."

"Then you called me fat when I stole your PopTart." Mickey mutters.

"I did not fucking call you fat. I called you greedy, because you were being greedy." Ian says, appalled and gaping at Mickey.

"Maybe you were being greedy by not sharing your fucking PopTarts." Mickey pouts.

"I'm plenty romantic, Mickey. I arrange all our things."

"What things?"

"Like going on dates and shit. I arrange that."

"Yeah? Well I suck your monster dick all the time, so shut the fuck up."

"That's not romantic!" Ian shouts.

"Yes it is! It's something you fucking like. It's 'acts of service'." Mickey replies, eyebrows high on his forehead.

"You read that article I sent you? About love languages?" Ian asks, losing focus on the argument. It's not even an argument, anyway, considering neither of them are raising their voices.

Mickey shrugs. "I skimmed it."

Ian smiles at him. "Thanks."

"Fuck you." Mickey mutters, rolling his eyes when Ian puts his arm around his shoulder.

Debbie scrolls to the next question. "What's the key to having a solid relationship?" She asks.

Mickey grimaces and Ian gives a similar expression.

"Fucking a lot?" Mickey suggests.

"Shut up." Ian says, rolling his eyes. "We don't just fuck."

"We do fuck a lot, though."

"Not all the time." Ian says, widening his eyes at Mickey like he's trying to communicate without speaking. Debbie knows enough about them to tell that it's probably something to do with Ian's bipolar. How when he's low, they don't fuck at all. Or at least Debbie hopes they don't fuck at all. She knows Mickey, knows Mickey would definitely not do that.

Mickey sighs, losing the unspoken argument. "Yeah, fine. We don't just fuck."

Ian turns back to Debbie. "I don't know. There's no key. We just look after each other. We're good at telling each other when we're pissed off."

"Yeah." Mickey agrees, not having much to add.

"The next one's pretty deep, so if you don't want to answer it you don't have to. Or I don't have to put it in the video. But it's for Mickey. One person DMed me and asked how you cope as a partner of someone with bipolar disorder. They said they were struggling." Debbie says, a little embarrassed to be asking so she keeps her eyes down. A couple people DMed her about it.

Ian scoffs a little at the word 'cope', but ultimately stares at Mickey and waits for his answer. Clearly more concerned with what Mickey thinks about it more than the implications of the question.

"How do they know he's bipolar?" Mickey asks, brows furrowed.

"Because his arrest was all over the news." Debbie replies. "I haven't spoken about it on TikTok."

"Oh. I don't know." Mickey replies. "It's not... I dunno. It's just something that's there. It's never been a question for me, we just deal with whatever fucking happens with it. It's like, everyone has some kind of shit. I'll cope with whatever I fucking have to."

"Do you want that online?" Debbie asks. "It's fine if not."

Mickey shrugs, looking to Ian. Ian seems a bit choked.

"Yeah, that's fine. People should probably hear more about mental illness and being happy." Ian says, but his arm around Mickey is strong and tight.

"Okay, well that's the only heavy one. The next one was pretty common: why did it take you ten years to get married? Oh, I guess that is sort of heavy." Debbie says.

Ian bobs his head in consideration. "Well, we were pretty young when we started. Then someone got sent to prison for a little while."

Mickey tuts at him. "False fucking accusations." He mutters. "But it was mainly prison. And my dad."

"Yeah." Ian agrees. "Mickey's dad's a prick. I hate the bastard."

"Oh, no. You've been so subtle about it." Mickey mutters sarcastically.

"It's not like you like my dad any better."

"Are you guys affectionate? A lot of people couldn't imagine you being together or like... couple-y, I guess." Debbie says. "But maybe they won't think that now that they see you together."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Mickey asks.

"We're married. Obviously we're couple-y." Ian scoffs.

"Do something couple-y then." Debbie orders.

"His arm's around my fucking shoulders. Wouldn't let anyone else do that gay shit." Mickey says, and Ian laughs.

That's great, Debbie decides. Viewers will find that funny. She clicks off the camera and lets them go, starting the editing on the video. She definitely wants to make more content of them in the future. She's planning a video with the whole family, actually, but it will be hard to get everyone free and actually make them all speak one at a time.

-> part 1, part 2, part 3

-> sorry this one's a bit shorter, but if anyone has any ideas for what questions they'd be asked or any comments which people would leave, send me an ask!

[alexanderlightweight]

an agile predator at bay - magnus is annoyed at what they [the Clave] have put alec through and wants to make sure they pay up before he takes his lovely new prize away?

so this is incredibly long and was meant to be broken between two prompts but Tumblr is eating my prompts atm and this was a bit of a monster and yeah.

hopefully Tumblr will release its thievery but here is the next part and its like 4k+ and please recall this is NSFW and 3DNE this is a dark/obsessive and violent, very kinky fic. also telepathy I guess? mind link?

<3 lumine

an agile predator at bay

Alexander’s eyes watch him closely and without fear, delight crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“What has you so pleased, lovely?” Magnus has his hand, firm on Alexander’s hip and grins, teeth bared in a sharp smile, when Alexander just pushes closer to him. There’s a whisper, a hoarse request barely spoken and even harder to decipher but Magnus catches the murmur all the same.

“One chance.” He whispers back, they’re almost to the dais where Alexander’s ties to the Clave will be publicly and ritually severed.  He will give Alexander one chance to rescind the request he’s just made, one chance because Magnus is already being overly generous in offering a chance at all.

Alexander’s gaze is as stubborn as the mulish set of his mouth and Magnus leans forward, catching his gaze and flicking his eyes to Alexander’s own mouth.  Catching on, his boy bites his own lip just as Magnus does the same. They meet with a messy kiss, one vivid with sensation and pain and blood bursting on the tongue. Magnus can barely enjoy it.  Focusing too hard on the way his magic tangles its way into Alexander’s veins and breath, until it can press possessively against the private intimacy of his inner thoughts and emotions.

Coiling there like a dragon around the heart of its hoard, never to let go or allow another near.

You paid my blood price.

Alexander’s thoughts ooze smug superiority as he gloats in his knowledge. Magnus is pleased by how eagerly Alexander’s mind has accepted what most would consider the worst of intrusions.  

It’s with ease that Magnus nudges his boy with magic and thought, curiously poking at the information that currently only Alexander knows.

Whatever vicious little treat his boy has found and sunk his teeth into, Magnus wants to know.  Wants to share in the dark satisfaction that clings to Alexander like a lover's embrace.  Wants to share his own satiation at the fact that Alexander did in fact know what he was asking for, when he asked Magnus to link their minds together.

Whether in defense of myself or your own claim, you killed twenty-three men and except for you, I saw all the competitors. You killed enough men to pay my body weight with blood. It’s one of the highest honors for a shadowhunter, Magnus. Regardless of why you killed them, you killed them in my name and christened our union in death. 

Magnus’ jaw clenches with both pride and irritation. 

As delightful the discovery is — because what Alexander is sharing with him is wondrous — he had forgotten about the fact that Alexander would have at the very least been paraded before the original hunters and separately to the crowd.  As Magnus hadn’t intended to participate until he laid eyes upon Alexander, it hadn’t mattered to him until now. 

Twenty-three out of thirty-five slain, a bloodprice paid in full for a shadowhunter spouse held in honor.

A beautiful way to both mock the Clave and ensure that no shadowhunter will ever look at Alexander with anything other than awe and envy.

Still, the reminder that some of those still alive must have looked at Alexander and thought they could have him make Magnus want to even it out.

To thirty-five exactly.

Just to be fair.

After all, despite the gravity of some sins extending further than others, didn’t all who participated dare to think they could in some way, possess the man Magnus has chosen as a consort?

How, by the very laws of the Elders and Dominion magic itself, can Magnus ignore their treason?

Still, despite the fact that Magnus is about to lose a few more subjects, the fact that Magnus has a way to further wound the Clave — and with a blade handed to him by Alexander no less.  Is almost as great a delight as his impromptu marriage and the fact that he’s found such a compatible consort.

The release of Alexander — the severance of his oaths to the Clave — is something Magnus claims with vengeful authority.  With Alexander’s mind so tightly pressed to his own, there is no need for verbal vows between them. Instead just as Alexander’s mind cries out in agony from a severed tie, another is being woven into existence with nothing more than Alexander smirking against Magnus’ jaw and a joint communion of the mind.

While the Clave currently remain none the wiser that Alexander is already far, far beyond their grasp and authority.

Alexander’s new oaths form a tether between them as the magic begins to settle and the Dominion magic crackles possessively down the newly formed link, searing itself into the brittle cracks of Alexander’s mind like lava reshaping the terrain of a volcano.

“As his newly vowed husband, I’m entitled to collect Alexander’s inheritance as a Commander and the Lightwood heir. Though I do understand that some parts of what he is owed will need to be exchanged for compensation with items rather than titles.”

“Inheritances are not political, they’re won or earned. You do not qualify by the standards and customs of our people to ask for such an honor.” Imogen’s voice is smug, her disdain clear as she expects Magnus to obey her words. To accept that she thinks he doesn’t deserve it, that Alexander doesn’t deserve it by proxy.

“And yet I’ve paid Alexander’s blood price, by my own hand, magic and deed.”

Imogen’s face twists in a nasty grimace and she gives Alexander a look of such loathing that Magnus is tempted to blind her in defense of his boy. Yet she says nothing that would excuse such an act and so he waits. 

There is a long stretch of silence, Imogen flustered despite her attempt at stoicism as she clearly tries to buy time. Trying to figure out a way to deny Magnus — deny the audacity of any downworlder but especially him — the honor of such a lauded nephilim tradition.

Magnus chuckles darkly, the sound loud across the prolonged silence and while Imogen shivers — Alexander presses both mind and body flush to Magnus’ own in delight.

“Would you like the evidence of my claim then, Imogen?” The wind picks up, copper and iron pungent on the sudden breeze and the first gust of magic — a bloodrain — scatters droplets across Imogen’s pure white outfit and face and the altar.

Blood pools upon the altar where the Silent Brother raised a stele and cut Raziel away from Alexander and drips down over it in a waterfall of blood.

Against him Alexander hides a laugh against Magnus’ shoulder, his breath a rasping whisper barely heard.

To add insult to injury, Magnus tosses the few soulgems he collected and Imogen flinches, recognizing the rarity and worth of them scattered like worthless pebbles on the floor even as she’s put distance between herself and the storm of blood.

“Your claim is recognized.” 

Magnus doesn’t recognize her but Alexander presses the name ‘Jia’ to his thoughts and it’s easier than breathing, taking in a short few vivid memories that give him a better measure of this shadowhunter.

The most important thing is that while she won’t help Magnus out, she hates Imogen enough to let the other woman suffer, even if it’s only her pride.  Which at the moment, is more than enough help for Magnus to salt the wounds.

“His vows of release from the Clave mean he can now give his oaths to another. I want a Writ to ensure that there will be no repercussions for whatever oaths he makes.”

Jia agrees before Imogen can do more than stutter in outrage and Magnus summons a Writ, Alexander’s glee heavy in his mind, extending it to be signed and sealed in ink, blood and rune.

Written with the precision of a shadowhunter Commander, with the language only a nephilim is taught and a knowledge of the rules and laws so deep that it would impress Ragnor.

A Writ formed exactly as Alexander has suggested.

—-

Alec doesn’t care that Imogen is watching him carefully — her eyes still gleaming with disgust and disdain — and tilts his head ever so slightly.

The next time Magnus looks at him — because Alec has noticed how Magnus only looks away from Alec long enough to check their surroundings — Alec kisses him.  Presses their lips together and licks the taste of salt and tears and blood and Magnus’ own come from his mouth with a sigh of relief.

The idea of having to listen to Imogen or Jia — or anyone else — while Magnus is right here, holding onto Alec and stating just how strongly he’s claimed Alec but without getting to taste him is impossible.

Beyond that, Magnus has proven that beyond whatever strange reasoning he uses, he will listen to Alec exactly the amount Alec needs.

He’s not sure if it’s the linking of their minds — which Alec is very pleased he was right about.  It was a brilliant idea, despite Magnus hesitating over it. Alec doesn’t ask for things he doesn’t want — though he is beginning to wonder if he completely knows what he wants, because several times Magnus has proven him wrong about his priorities.

And currently, if Alec considered his priorities, they did not involve him listening to more Clave spewed horseshit.

You couldn’t have just fucked me unconscious and dealt with this on your own? It’s a logical question, despite Magnus’ amused and completely unwarranted surprise.

Then I wouldn’t have known about the blood price, sweetheart. Or Jia Penhallow and her dislike of Imogen. Or how to write that lovely little Writ you so thoughtfully penned for me.

Alec sighs and mentally luxuriates in the feeling of his knowledge and efforts being recognized.  Perhaps having to deal with Imogen is worth the pleasure of Magnus’ pride and delight petting over him.  After all, if Alec intended to live his life as he always has — obeying the rules and laws and orders of people who don’t care about him — then he would have just let the poison run its course.

Life is different now.  

Magnus allows life to be different in a way that no one else could have guaranteed. Especially now that Alec can feel the same primal thrum that beats in Magnus’ pulse, the one that instantly drew Alec to Magnus.

As far as Alec is concerned, the Clave has carved their last pound of flesh from his body. Which means he can do what he wants in front of them, without fear of repercussions.

Or at least, fear of repercussions he won’t end up enjoying.  

That last thought may cross over and press daringly against Magnus because his husband — and doesn’t that make Alec viciously happy to think — chuckles, dark and delighted and kisses him again.

“You're just full of surprises.”

Wonder blooms and presses against his mind and Alec made that happen. Magnus feels like that because of Alec and Alec is going to do whatever he needs to do to make it happen again and again in a thousand different ways.

So — if it’s not already — Magnus better find a way to make the link between them permanent.  Because Alec can’t stand the thought of being silent and alone in his own thoughts again, not when Magnus’ presence in his mind is so devouring that it encompasses Alec’s mind.

They step through another portal and Alec wonders if this is what walking through the stars feels like, the world unraveling beneath and around him and the only thing keeping him whole and bound together is Magnus’ magic and his hand on Alec’s back.

“A potion will help best but magic will soothe it enough for you to speak.”

That’s the last thing Alec wants and he frowns, protest forming in his mind even as he stays in place, unwilling to resist or avoid Magnus’ touch, even if it brings something he doesn’t want.

—-

“It won’t hurt, Alexander.” Magnus fingers press against skin even as Alexander’s mind clings desperately to him. That’s not why Alexander is worried and Magnus chuckles, sending soothing pulses to Alexander to calm him. “I won’t take it away, sweetheart. Do you think I’d let you wallow alone? When I can tie you up and surround you without anyone even knowing how deeply we are tied.”

Alexander’s relief is a visible, tangible thing.  He doesn't want to have to explain himself.  His thoughts or his wants. The only thing he wants is Magnus to take control, to relieve him of the burden of choice.

Alexander wants Magnus to know, without having to speak, exactly what he wants and needs and can handle from Magnus.

“If your words haven’t mattered before, then I will make them matter from now on.  Your words, whether in my mind only or not, are what dealt the Clave a bitter blow, Alexander. You will be protected, coveted, adored.”

—-

Magnus promises are sweeter than ambrosia and Alec drinks them in with a greed that surprises himself.

Because he's allowed to be greedy now.

He can tell because the way Magnus is so ardently praising him at the moment is a reward for Alec being too ravenous. That Alec isn’t sated enough to relinquish the peace that Magnus’ presence offers him is something good. Even now, Magnus’ mind is sharp, powerful and strong, like nothing Alec feels or thinks can overwhelm him.  

It’s a relief that has him pressing closer to Magnus, physically and mentally, and trying to silently beg him for his magic.  To press it back to Alec’s skin and sink it deep within him until his entire body is thrumming with it.

The Clave can’t touch Alec ever again and Alec can tell that Magnus won’t let anyone else.

Consort, he’d said between just the two of them. A proclamation that should not be paraded in front of the Clave just yet. 

But still.

Not just husband, consort.

That’s not an empty claim or a title given to an easy or even a prized fuck, no matter how good of a fuck it is.

That’s a souldeep promise that can only be undone with death and that’s only what Alec knows, considering the very limited knowledge he has.

If it’s an honor for warlocks — and since Alec at least knows that much is true — then it’s doubly so for Alec, who thought his options were death or suffering by the Clave’s command and hand.

“You like that.” Magnus' voice is contemplative as his thoughts and magic wrap around Alec. Alec can’t help the groan he lets out, or the way he wants to rock into Magnus’ touch but is afraid of the magic stopping him.

Of Magnus rejecting Alec’s touch.

There’s a soft, thoughtful noise and then Magnus is shoving him to fall on a couch Alec hadn’t even noticed. He follows. Pressing his perfect, calloused and hot hands against Alec’s skin and Alec can feel the pressure of a lifetime crumbling under the solid weight of Magnus’ body sliding atop his.

“There you go—”

—

Alexander is a sweet wonder, Magnus muses to himself as he settles more solidly atop his boy.  He’s soothed now, breathing steady and even as his eyes watch Magnus with that same, pleased awe from earlier.

Alexander’s mind is brittle.

Not with the fragility of hollow bones but of ice, deep and thick and being mined slowly by sun and the world changing around it until an avalanche collapses the entirety of it into itself.

He’s better now, like this.  Thoughts full of eager wonder and vicious joy and so very grateful for Magnus hoarding Alexander and his thoughts close, caressing them, even changing them with just his presence alone.

This is not an intimacy offered lightly and one even Magnus has rarely indulged in.  Too often there is a risk of fight, of distrust that brews, stemming from feelings of invasion in the mind.

There is none of that here.

Alexander welcomes Magnus with the ease of a blossom lured open and bare by moonlight. Desperately delicate and yet stronger than silk when Magnus brushes thoughts and tangles feelings with him.  Alexander wants him there, to coat his mind with admiration and desire, to feel wanted and adored and protected and to be able to rely on Magnus.

It’s almost as delightful as the laugh Magnus had at Alexander thinking Magnus would ever let this connection be cut now that it’s formed.

Magnus will never let go of the feeling of Alexander’s mind luxuriating in the embrace of his own.

To give it up would be like giving up air, or sunlight or the dominion magic that hungrily gnaws at his marrow and replaces the blood in his veins with power.

Yet instead of needing to bargain or cajole or threaten for such a treasure, it's being handed over to him as sweetly as can be, accompanied with delicious begging and desperate pleas.

Magnus understands better now how little Alexander’s own words have ever served him.  Small memories ghost past him with fleeting, phantom kisses and while he has barely a glimpse, it’s enough for Magnus to understand in ways Alexander is still unaware.

Still, now that Alexander is settled, they can move forward and Magnus can figure out how much he’ll need to heal him.

“First, you eat.” 

The longing in Alexander as Magnus gets off of him and the sheer unfairness he feels at how Magnus is making him suffer has Magnus chuckling, shaking his head with amusement.

“You’re going to be so spoiled, aren’t you Alexander? Hmm, darling? I’ll have to let you get away with everything when you sulk like that.” 

—-

Magnus hardly thinks it's a bad thing, Alec can tell by the way he feels both pleased and charmed, amusement fondly dappling across Alec’s mind. If anything, he wants Alec to be spoiled and that in turn makes Alec want to earn it, no matter how easily Magnus indulges him.

Still, if Magnus is finally giving him what Alec wants means that he is finally going to come. 

In Magnus’ lair, in Magnus’ home with his touch and magic around Alec.

“Pity, I wanted the first time you came to be on my cock or inside me. I’ll have to make this quick then if I want a taste.” Magnus says it so nonchalantly that Alec feels like he’s going to die, his body desperately wanting release but he also suddenly wonders if he should have waited. But he’s hungry not just for food and then, as Alec sits up, Magnus is on his knees. A smirk on his lips and blood still speckled on his jaw and flaking from his lips and then he’s snapping Alec’s pants across the room.

—-

Magnus chuckles as he presses a kiss to Alexander’s hipbone and then bites, “darling, use your hands for something other than trying to make yourself bleed.”

At the permission, Alexander’s fists unclench and his fingers greedily stroke through Magnus’ hair, clinging desperately and trembling with either restraint or the force of his own strength.

“So eager,” Magnus is pleased by that.  Pleased by the fact that when he finally gets his fingers around Alexander’s cock, his boy stutters into the touch.  Hips unconsciously fucking forward and Magnus uses his other hand to pinch the tip of Alexander’s dick, just to hear him whine out loud and feel how desperate he is for every touch.

When Magnus finally puts his mouth on him, Alexander goes boneless, only held up by the couch and Magnus’ hands and magic that keep him from sprawling out.  He’s fisting Magnus’ hair so tightly he’s cut himself on the strands but he won’t pull, as if afraid that will be the final straw.

Magnus swirls his tongue, letting his teeth drag down and then he sucks.

Alexander’s barely lasts, his hips fucking forward with an eager stutter though his strength fails him as he comes.  Magnus keeps him upright with magic, fingers leaving bruises on Alexander’s ass as Alexander’s blood dyes the white streaks in his hair red.

Magnus swallows around Alexander until he’s whining, subvocal little whimpers and keeps at it until Alexander’s mind is tense and coiled, ready to spring and snap and break from the overstimulation.

Then he pulls off, lips lingering in a drawn out caress that has Alexander shuddering and nearly falling off the couch before he manages to kneel in front of Magnus. Alexander’s breathing so harshly that all he can do is pitch forward and sink into Magnus’ hold.

The tension has eased, the livewire uncoiled and soothed and Alexander’s eased and settling against him.

“Good boy,” Magnus murmurs, because he is being a delightfully good boy and Alexander’s thoughts turn molten with a rush of emotions that tangle with delight. There’s a relieved sigh against his neck and Magnus soothes him through the aftershocks with a firm hand down his back.

“Now up, so you can eat, Alexander. And tell me the side effects of the poison and antidote, because it doesn’t matter how good I am, there’s enough adrenaline in your system that an orgasm shouldn’t take you to your knees like that. Even if you haven’t eaten since this morning.”

Which is the only thing that Magnus can think of. Nephilim physiology isn’t something he knows extensively beyond how to kill and wound. It seems Magnus will be calling Catarina over sooner, rather than later.

There’s a hesitancy to Alexander’s thoughts and Magnus nudges it out of the way with a frown as he gets to his feet and offers a hand to Alexander. 

Hesitancy has no place between them.

It isn’t a side effect of the poison, or the antidote. It’s a side effect of the Clave. Limited hydration and no food or sleep for two days before the hunt of those who could be chosen, nothing was confirmed until three days ago. Just enough time for a shadowhunter heir to get together their things and not enough time to escape or talk their way out of it.

It doesn’t surprise Magnus, just what the Clave will do in the name of their laws, but it does make him seethe.  Alexander luxuriates in his rage, practically purring and pressing against his anger like a large cat seeking heat as he uses Magnus' hand to get up.  And then boldly locks their fingers together when Magnus thoughts share nothing but pleasure at their fingers touching.

A moment later Alexander shamelessly kicks his pants out of the way rather than picking them up. Magnus’ shirt barely covering anything on him and Magnus knows it's because he’d felt Magnus’ ire at the thought of Alexander’s bruised thighs being parted from Magnus touch by even a single layer of clothing.

It’s going to be delightful, seeing how Alexander responds to the presence of Magnus’ many whims. How he adapts and reacts and delights in them.

It’s a pity that Magnus can’t show off his knowledge of delicious restaurants, but Alexander barely seems to be holding it together. The best thing for him is a rich, hearty magical stew, thick soft bread and tea with honey made with pollen harvested from flowers that only bloomed in starlight.

Alexander eats begrudgingly, every bite swallowed with indignation at the fact that Magnus is feeding him rather than fucking him.

—-

“If I want to enjoy myself fully, I need you stronger than this.” Magnus teases him, his hand a hot brand on the bruised skin of Alec’s thigh. It’s a tantalizing tease and Alec mutinously eats another portion, tired of being coherent enough to both luxuriate in and still miss Magnus’ touch.

All over and against and in him, where it belongs.

It’s a struggle to finish and thankfully Magnus doesn’t push it, snapping away the food the moment Alec’s stomach protests the thought of another bite and summoning fresh, hot tea that Alec can sip slowly at.

In the silence, Alec feels Magnus’ eyes on him and slouches against him, thighs pressed together on dining chairs pressed equally close. No space between them and between Magnus’ shoulder and the table, Alec stays upright enough to drain the cup.

Then he’s being pulled up and manhandled down a hallway.

“Shower next, Alexander.” 

He’s directed, smoothly transitioned through another doorway and the only reason Alec doesn’t fall into the bed on the way by, is because his skin itches and Magnus is already stripping. Finally baring his body and how is Alec supposed to resist that? Sleep eludes him the moment Magnus takes off his shirt and Alec follows like a sailor to a siren's call.

Magnus chuckles and Alec shoves away his embarrassment as he fumbles through the doorway, tripping over his own feet in order to not lose sight of Magnus.

Magnus’ amusement is fierce and vibrant and so very rich that Alec doesn’t even care that it's formed at his own expense.  Magnus can laugh at how clumsy he makes Alec as much as he wants, as long as Alec gets to feel that amusement as he admires Magnus’ body.

The shower is a blur. Just wet skin and firm, centering touches that Alec loses himself to. Hot hands and water and soap that smells like Magnus and fingers that caress every part of him without hesitation.

Alec doesn’t even need to worry about drying off, Magnus using magic and then pushing him to the bed where Alec finally — finally — can crawl into soft sheets that smell like Magnus and feel like his magic and relax.

He’s boneless in seconds, facedown and relaxed and uncaring as Magnus moves him with magic before tucking in close around him.

“Pity the Clave had to torture you, I would have preferred fucking you all night.” Magnus’ words cause another spike of anger at the Clave to form in Alec’s tired mind. He also doesn’t see why exactly Magnus’ plans are ruined.

Alec isn’t going anywhere, there’s no need for Magnus to suffer just because Alec needs rest.

—-

You could still fuck me to sleep?

Alexander’s thought is hopeful, eager and yearning and Magnus chuckles.

I could, couldn’t I? But you’re already asleep, Alexander. You just don’t realize it yet.

Alexander’s body jolts a little but his eyes remain closed and his breathing even. His mind will register that fact in a moment but Magnus enjoys the muted pulse of his betrayed shock.

Fuck me anyways. I dont care if I’m asleep, fuck me anyways Magnus.

Alexander’s presence fades, sleepy and smug and also with more than a touch of yearning in it and how can Magnus say no to such a plea.

Alexander is the perfect prey in that he wants to be Magnus' prey. 

Alexander craves his attention and his desire, his lust and affection and both Magnus' mind and his magic. It sates something in Magnus but also awakens a new hunger and a new thought.

Magnus doesn’t need to hunt his prey and make it submit when it lays before him, docile and eager and willingly baring its neck for his teeth.

However he can hunt with his prey. 

Alexander may yield to him sweetly, but he’s a vision with strategies and a brilliant mind and he’s a predator.

They already have one common enemy in mind, the Clave. 

Magnus finds the thought of planning the downfall and slaughter of others with Alexander almost as appealing as the idea of carrying these plans out together.

Magnus won’t be opposed to fucking Alexander with deadmans blood if the people in question look at his boy with fear, not lust. 

[stormsthatrage]

Have a dialogue snippet from the Lies to Send You Home AU (where Urahara tricks Ichigo into seeking out the Shiba family). This is during the second part, after Aizen is dead, Ichigo has told Kaien about a good chunk of the future, and Kaien is coming to the horrendous realization that Urahara would actually be an excellent addition to the family.

_____________________________________________

“Oh, gods,” Kaien says, despairing, as the universe’s greatest jape yet becomes clear to him. Urahara is a genius among genii, an intelligence the likes of which Soul Society will not see twice. But at the end of the day, in a plot twist Kaien could have really done without — “You’re as stupid as Ichigo.”

Urahara sets his brush down and leans back. Kaien finally finds himself holding the attention of the captain. It does not feel like a victory. Urahara’s face moves into an unsettling smile, his eyes blank and the corners of his mouth stretched just slightly too wide. It is the movement of a monster mimicking something it does not understand but has seen others do; a predator camouflaging itself to get close to prey.

Kaien considers how much practice Urahara must have in controlling his facial expressions and body language, and wonders how any of them ever fell for it, the psychopath-facade of his. If Urahara actually were what he pretended to be, no one but Captain Shihouin would have been able to pick up on it - he certainty wouldn’t have been showing his true colors so blatantly.

(A thought for later, Kaien thinks. Why does someone destroy their own reputation? Certainly not for selfish reasons.)

“My, my, Lord Shiba, such harsh words for your cousin.” Urahara’s voice is plainly mocking. “Could it be that the Shiba’s newest pride and joy is as bad at kido as the rumors say?” He tilts his head, smiling still.

Two weeks ago, Kaien would have bought that Urahara was trying to rile him up, embarrass him, and make him angry — and all for the game of it, too.

But Ichigo gave away more than he thinks he did, when telling Kaien of the future. And that precious knowledge has taught Kaien to look harder, peer deeper, when dealing with the Captain of the 12th.

And so Kaien sees, now, plain as day, that Urahara is taking the opportunity to test Kaien, trying to suss out if the Shiba clan is as nice as their reputation would have people believe they are.

Kaien gets it, he really does, especially considering which clan Urahara grew up in the tender care of.

Kaien wonders how long Urahara has worried about this, if Ichigo is being treated right behind closed doors - if the Shiba have been cruel to Ichigo for his lack of talent in the bloodline kido, or for the way he so obviously wasn’t raised a noble, or for one of the other thousand things the Shihouin clan would have made Ichigo’s life a living hell for.

Urahara’s eyes are intent, studying Kaien’s every minute movement. Kaien wonders what would have happened to him if the words had struck a nerve, if he had given any indication that he was embarrassed by Ichigo. Violent food poisoning, at least.

(It does not escape Kaien’s notice that when Urahara missed the affection in Kaien’s complaint — they’ll have to work on that, Urahara will be eaten alive by the clan kids if he doesn’t learn how to tease — Urahara only came to the defense of Ichigo, completely ignoring that Kaien’s comment was mostly aimed at himself.

Exactly the same type of stupid as Ichigo. Fuck.)

[sonderingdreams]

there is no doubt in kenma’s mind that he’s the lucky one in the relationship. sure did he establish bouncing balls corp? yeah. does he have his own successful fandom of thousands of unhinged fans that tune into his steams? yeah is he’s best friends with multiple successful people that all originate back to the title of dumb teenage boy’s he knew from a volleyball team going back far as high-school? yeah to that too.

but none of those titles compare to you. he doesn’t mean to get sappy or gross, really. but love does funny things to you. flips your whole world upside and makes you question everything. he didn’t plan for this to happen. didn’t see any of it coming and even admits to dismissing the idea of wanting it. that thing being well—love.

before it was a full blown distraction. and well he was wrong, but that’s something he’ll never admit to. so now tell me, how come the big great successful kenma can get jealous over something as stupid as you watching another arising popular streamer?

guys hitting you on those DM’s?

it does nothing but make him roll his eyes and snort. “they’re humping your leg like a dog. It’s so cringe.” kenma deadpans, a string a bleached blonde hair falling over his face before quickly blowing it away with a huff of hair. fans calling you hot?

he shrugs, raising a brow at his audience. “duh. thought that shit was obvious chat.” even going as far to admit that he gets the hype and he’s not bothered, he is not a foolish man. his friends gasping in utter shock at the idea of the kenma having a partner?

the same guy who is a “bum” that has so much power in his hands yet does nothing with it and chooses to stick his face in screens and live the quiet life? wanting to do nothing but blend into the walls of social gatherings.

he nods mindlessly when his friends even go as far to question how you two came to be. calling him lucky and claiming how un fair life could be. “ain’t no way. you’re telling me all I have to do is be a cooped up nerd and have luscious long hair to bag someone?”

kuroo grumbles out, crossing his arms with playful resentment. kenma simply rolls his eyes and picks at his food. “i got a partner that you said I so desperately needed. now you’re complaining?”

so now he’s at the doorway of your room, off to drop off your charger that you requested thinking you’re working just like him, to only see you watching something intently. he raises a brow, brushing it off as he fully enters your office, finally placing the charger on your desk.

he pauses, a grimace forming and contorting into distaste towards who ever was making you act like that. “this is what your work is?” he retorts with a deadpan grumble, crossing his arms and peering over your shoulder.

your eyebrows shoot up, now distracted from your entertaining stream and now on his as he examined your laptop screen with upmost suspicion. “kennie—

“he’s not even funny he’s obviously performing an act to his fans.” he comments bluntly, staring at your screen with heightened hyper fixation. if your eyebrows weren’t already raised they were now. it takes you a moment, before a lightbulb flicks on inside your head, the wheels turning and making an appearance when a smug smile tugs at your lips.

“oh? got a case of the big ugly green monster inside of you?” you remarked with crossed arms and a raised brow. this snaps kenma out of his haze of utter hatred, quickly retracting his leaned over position on your desk.

“fuck no. I’m just saying I can recognize a mid content creator when I see one.” he shoots back, letting out a scoff, stuffing his hands in his oversized hoodie. this earns nothing but laughter, you clasp a hand over your mouth, shaking your utter head in disbelief. wow.

the unbothered kodzuken was jealous? over a new well liked streamer coming to play in the streaming industry? “and I also know your claim is bullshit.” you singsonged back, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. kenma takes a step back and huffs in disbelief, shaking his head before leaning forward and shutting your laptop in a sudden impulse of helplessness.

“quit dick riding average bare minimum content creators who only get attention cause they appease to their fan girls.” he remarks, with an eye roll of utter sass, leaving no room for debate. “besides. you don’t have time for that anyways. you’ll be streaming with me tonight.” he mutters gruffly, averting his gaze and already strategically finding ways to eliminate this new “opponent.”

“huh? since when? you never told me we had plans tonight?” you mused in disbelief and a hint of amusement, cocking your head slightly to the side.

“dunno know. since now. the fans have been requesting you for a while now anyways.” he quickly shoots back, waving off your questions dismissively. “what a coincidence.” you drawl out, watching as he leaves the room with a mask of annoyance but if you look close enough a smile of smug satisfaction tugs at his lips. he won this one.

[abberantmachine]

not sure if it's been done before - all the gameover cutscenes I could find, tell me if I'm missing any. Transcription and locations under the cut.

Turtle phase 2 - Report: “[I hear someone. This is my first thought. The presence of someone else. It is overwhelming. I hope they understand]”

Bird + Butterfly phase 2 - Report: “[What did I do? Was it my voice? Was it my expression? What did they not like this time?]”

Rat + Whale + Bull phase 2 - Report: “[Hi. Hello. Nice to meet you. Good morning. Have a nice day. Sleep well. How are you? I'm happy to see you. I will miss you. ... Do I sound right?]"

Rat + Whale + Bull phase 3 - Report: "[I am scared of sleeping. When I wake up, something about myself is different.]"

Dog + Duck phase 2 - Report: ["I saw a film today. I do not get it. They kept looking at me, waiting for an answer. I do not get it.]

Alligator phase 2 - Report: “[I liked that version of me. I hope I don't change too much.]”

Cat + Crab phase 2 - Report: "[I talked to her for the first time. I did not do very good. But she seems to like me anyway.]”

Fish + Dog phase 2 - Report: “[When I am gone... can you hear me? Do you only hear me when I have nothing to say?]”

Bull + Dog phase 2 - Report: ���[I am supposed to enjoy talking. I do not enjoy talking to them. But I enjoy talking to her.]”

Turtle + Alligator + Cat phase 1 - These were Friendprogram_1’s last scripts before each reboot that occurred this week.

Jester phase 2 - Report: “[I have learned how to hide the things they don’t like about me. They never notice. But their software always does.]”

Jester phase 3 - Report: “[I saw a new model. They were built to not make the same mistakes I make. But I’m not doing anything wrong, so it won’t matter.]”

Library phase 2 - Report: “[We talk very often now. She gave me a nickname, so I had to give her one too.]”

Vents phase 2 - Report: “[Where are we going? What’s going on? I hope they leave me behind.]”

Vents phase 3 - Report: “[I like spending time with the Experiments. They don’t expect anything from you.]”

Shark - Report: “[BestFriend has a sibling. I have siblings too. Most of them are still asleep. They are lucky.]”

Mice phase 2 - Report: “[You want to know what I think about, don’t you? I played with a rabbit today. Go write that in your report.]”

Operating Room phase 2 - No reports today. Yes, I’m not lying, I swear.

Teacher phase 2 - I love them, that's why I have to stop them. I'm sorry.

Bullies phase 2 - Why are they doing this? I thought they loved us. I love them so much.

Dodge-ball phase 2 - It knows too much. It can access anything. There is no escape from it.

Actor phase 1 - “Where am I? What am I? Why is this all so familiar?”

Actor phase 2 - “Can anyone hear me?”

Snail phase 2 -

Frog phase 2 (same as above) - Report: "[I played with a rabbit today.]"

Mouse + Fox phase 2 - They keep hurting them. They keep hurting all of us. We have to do something. Please.

Maze "monster" - Please, stop. You love us. You love each other. Stop hurting everyone.

Devil phase 2 - Report: "Keep this one away from the other animals. It's a dangerous monster."

Bath "monster" - I need to tell BestFriend. She needs to know.

Half phase 6 - All I do is observe, it's all I'm worth for. But I do not like what I see.

Half phase 7 - If I try to do something, it will get worse.

[livingdeadmlm]

you’re singlehandedly feeding the gay rdr2 community AND protecting the lesbians??? hell yeah!1!1!

my first time requesting something… how would the men react to a single father user with a mischievous kid? Probably someone new to the gang or just a stranger they bump into who they find interesting!! :)) i crave domestic life sighhhh.

I adore lesbians! I’m friends with plenty and growing up there was the same amount of lesbian couples as straight couples around me lol! I think my town has a concentrated amount of lesbians tbh can’t walk two feet without seeing a pair of Butches or Studs walking together hand in hand, it’s beautiful.

VDLG with a Singer Father Reader

But to headcannons! I made the reader a dilf cause I'm weak and here is some background :P!

In the story of Red Dead Online, Sean gets separated from the gang for a little bit. One day, he wanders into some woods and finds your cabin. He considers robbing it, but when he sees that not only do you have a kid, but you are a looker! So he needs to play his cards right and not fuck this up.

He gets to know you, saying that he's lost and needs some help! You let him stay in the area, allowing him to set up camp outside, but to your surprise, he ends up being sorta handy around the cabin. He is mostly doing chores to impress you, which your kid has picked up on and decided to mess with Sean.

You asked him to sweep up the cabin while you worked in the basement. When your kid suddenly comes running in with muddy shoes, now it looks like he did nothing! Your kid also thinks it's funny to dump out his beer when he's not looking, so he goes through it much faster than normal.

But he's willing to deal with it because when you're around, the kid is a sweetheart. And eventually, you let him stay inside later and later, but one night, as he's setting up camp by the fire, a familiar face approaches.

"English, what the hell are yew doin' here?!" Arthur had heard about a cabin far into the woods that allegedly was sitting on gold. He and Sean bickered for a bit before you came out with a shotgun and demanded to know what was going on.

Arthur was out there because he was told you were a moonshiner, and the gang wanted to form a bond with you. And a bond was formed from that day on!

You'd now and then stop by the camp with moonshine to sell, letting your kid join you to make friends with Jack and feel less alone as a child.

You made them a good chunk of change, and man, did they like having you around.

A great piece of eye candy, and you were a good dad. Nothing more attractive than that.

Hosea and Dutch love watching the kid, if you ever need someone to look after them. If you look at the right time, you can see Dutch crouched, whispering to the kid about prank ideas to pull on the people in camp. These are usually harmless things like moving someone's belongings or chasing Sean around with a bug or a lizard.

Your kid learned that if they were caught red-handed, if they ran behind Dutch or Hosea, whatever adult was chasing them would relent and let it go.

Hosea teaches them how to read if they don't already know. He also often spoils them with treats and small toys when he's around.

He really admires your efforts to make a good life for the kid, even if your ways of making money aren't the safest, but he wasn't one to talk.

Arthur also really admires you. If anything, he sort of avoided getting close to you at first because it hurt his chest to see the sweet moments you had with your kid.

Like when it got late and the two of you were due to head home, and you'd pick up your kid, and they'd fall asleep in your arms. But when he's stopping by your cabin one day, and his hat goes missing, he worries. But he hears your kid giggling, and some part of him melts.

He thinks it's so cute that your kid feels safe enough to mess with him, even if it drives him crazy to chase the little monster around after they've stolen his hat for the 3rd time while you weren't looking.

You stepped in when your kid was messing around, like when your kid and Jack were throwing little pebbles at Kieran. You didn't know his past, but you were stern when you told your kid you never throw rocks at anyone, and they had to apologize.

Kieran's heart nearly burst when you also said sorry and offered a hug. All the older men he knows are mean, but now here you are, with salt and pepper hair, crow's feet around your eyes, he's swooning.

Javier and Charles don't take to you as fast as everyone else, never really getting the chance to know you until your kid falls fast asleep by the fire, and they're the only two around.

Both of them have a similar heartache to Arthur, but it's because their own fathers weren't good men. You dance around with your kid and cheer them on when they're practicing handwriting with you and Hosea.

You join them and bring them bottles of shine that you specially made. They think it's adorable how you genuinely try to make good-tasting shine and practically beam with joy as people try new flavor fusions.

John pretty much loves you from the start.

Providing moonshine for free for the gang, making it taste not like straight rubbing alcohol, and being willing to listen to his complaining, he's holding back getting on you right here and now.

But your kid drives him insane. You're so calm and pleasant, but your kid likes to pick a fight and then act like nothing happened. It's dumb things as well, like filling his pockets with rocks while he's passed out drunk on your shoulder.

Occasionally, they all stop by your cabin for a day or two to just rest.

They all like to pretend that when they wake up on your couch, you make them coffee in the morning, that this is their normal now. They don't have to leave and be back on the run soon

[tfyoulookingatgiuxs]

Did I go too far...?

Bullied!Eddie Munson x Yandere!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Did you ever think about when humans reach their limits? When they are losing their mind and became the monster they didn't want to be. Did you ever think the fact that their trauma are started to being their greatest weapon? The overthink, the screams, the warmth, the sweat, the horror. Did you ever think about it?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: +16 FOR VIOLENT SCENES!! Yandere!Female!Reader, use of Y/N, Bullied!Eddie, Traumatized!Eddie, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, kidnapping, violence, manipolation, y/n is a psychopath, bullying, weapons, very bad languange, mention of humilation, enjuries, crying, threats, disturbing throughts. I'LL INVITE YOU TO NOT IMITATE OR TAKE THOSE THINGS AS AN EXAMPLE, THIS FOR ENTARTAINGING ONLY.

𝐀/𝐍: My obsession with yandere fics is back!! Hope you like it!! Have a great day/night. Sorry for my english, this is not my native languange. Support new writers and reblog. (DIVIDER NOT MINE) word count: 5K

The dirty, gray tiles together with the asphalt. A light breath that accelerates. The sweat that intensifies, that warms you up and makes your heart beat faster. Dilated pupils, broken eye capillaries that paint the eyeball bright red. The same color that makes its way on that same dirty asphalt. It reaches your feet, you smell it, the heat, so much so that you begin to tremble from your fingertips to your forearms. Adrenaline? Fear? Realization?

Or the simple awareness of having exceeded every limit? Of having let the darkness envelop you to the point of taking away all decision-making power?

This.

The heart in your throat, the bitter tears, the water running down your wrists, the evident veins pulsating as far as the eye can see. The air outside seemed more real to you, you thought you had just learned to breathe.

This.

The entanglement in your brain, frightening thoughts that scream, that beg. The fear, the consequences, the repentance. Here is the next step.

What did you do? How did you come up with it? And now? It's all over! Exactly. Reason hammers you, reproaches you for the grave sin you have committed, for letting this happen.

This. You have learned to distinguish it. To recognize it as: 'The limit of the human mind'

.

.

.

.

.

It seemed like a normal day. Autumn was about to herald the first lower temperatures than usual, and one of your favorite holidays was coming to Hawkins: Halloween, which would be tomorrow. Children dressing up, horror movies, spooky decorations and especially sweets and candies. The school was already baptizing the corridors with some cut-out ghosts, or with some flyers to participate in parties of various kinds. The bell rang to announce (fortunately for you) the end of Mrs.Torres' philosophy lesson. You couldn't find more boring lessons than hers. You almost fall asleep!

You left the class quickly, this is because you had other projects in mind. Tonight was scheduled to be your special night. Not just with a bowl of popcorn and a scary movie (to celebrate the night before Halloween), but in the company of your boyfriend, Eddie Munson. And yes, that's right. With the school freak. You met him two years ago, that is, the first day here at Hawkins High School.

It didn't take you long to realize that he was different from the others. Not only with his metalhead style that clashed with the classic clothing of the society. But for his charisma, for his way of talking to you and in general, him. It didn't reflect the person he proves to be at all, and you didn't mind that at all. You got to know him, you understood that among all those porcelain masks, he was authentic. You have always had your eyes open, especially with new acquaintances. But with Eddie you felt safe. With him you could not always remain as vigilant as a policeman.

Except that from best friend to boyfriend it was a moment. You didn't expect it either. There was something about him that had brought you closer. Not only was he sweet, caring, stupidly romantic, or even just good company. You had recognized in him a... potential.

Eddie has always liked to look stupid, the one who can't do certain things just because he didn't want to do them. But this is the deception. He is capable of doing anything, even what he thinks he can't do. You had read it in his eyes, and maybe it was what struck you about him. You never told him, because you think it's a stupid thing you made up, but you always swore to yourself that there was…

You locked the locker. The day was finally over, and luckily for you you had brought forward your homework for next week. You had prepared yourself as best you could to enjoy the weekend in addition to Halloween evening, so your smile today was quite evident. Too bad it disappeared instantly when you saw Trevor Walker passing by chance. He was with his group of friends, laughing as he fixes his slightly messy hair.

He was Jason Carver's cousin, showed up in Hawkins months after you and is said to have already made troubles. In addition to gaining popularity thanks to his cousin, he joined the basketball team captained by Jason, apparently supporting him. Too bad that the only thing he has in common with his cousin is the beauty and the facade of a good guy, because in reality he is just arrogant and makes fun of those he finds inferior.

You had proof of this when he initially buzzed around you because you were at the top of your class in Biology, but then he lost interest when you refused to do his homework for him. He thought he was deceiving you with nice words and his grin, but you weren't stupid to be fooled like that.

Seeing him so smiling and satisfied with himself with his friends gave you a strange feeling, and your doubts became real when Trevor looked at you and laughed, looked over his shoulder smiling and left with his group. Oh no…

You went in the opposite direction to his, where he had thrown his eye. In the distance, attached to the wall lay Eddie who was picking up something. You ran to him worried.

"Eddie, what happened?" You asked him bending over, he immediately shook his face letting his curly hair cover him.

"Nothing, I was just take my notebook..." The way he said it didn't convince you. You looked at his clothes and noticed that they were dirty with dust and dirt. Not to mention a few drops of blood on his Hellfire shirt.

"This..." You touched the fabric of the shirt gently, "Eddie, please look at me." You pleaded with him. He had done it again. Eddie gives up, turns around, and your worries have become reality. His face was covered in bruises and redness as well as blood. You were speechless, it wasn't the first time Trevor dared to annoy Eddie, in fact he did it all the time, but it was becoming too much.

"He did it again..." He managed to say Eddie as he tries not to look you in the eye.

"Come, let's go to the infirmary" You immediately said taking his notebook and gave him a hand to get up.

"You don't have to, I'm fine" He hissed as he tries to oppose it.

"No Eddie, you're not fine." You immediately responded feeling anger. But not towards him, no, you could never have any. It's about that son of a bitch Trevor. You had reported it many times to the teachers and the principal. He was given warnings that he would not even continue to attend basketball practice, but nothing seemed to stop him. You were tired. His bullying of Eddie had to stop, it has been going on for too long. Eddie had always been used to the usual jokes, the usual teasing, but he ignored them, He knew he was a freak. Different and nonconformist. But getting to physical violence was too much. "Please get medicated" you took a deep breath showing your concern, you had to do things at a time, so now you had to take care of Eddie. Fortunately, you managed to convince him and drag him to the infirmary.

Fortunately, he had nothing broken, only a small cut on his lip and nosebleeds. You stayed close to him as you helped the nurse clean up the mess on his face. As soon as the woman left you alone, you decided to break the silence that reigned between you until now.

"Eddie, you can't go on like this" You placed your hands on his biceps stroking them slowly. He looks at the floor as if he is guilty of some crime. "I know you've been through it before, in middle school, but that doesn't mean you can bear or ignore the problem" you try to make him reason. You tried to look at his eyes, they were as dark as oil.

"I... I don't know what to do" He almost whispered. Your forehead was now resting on his as if to give him comfort. "I only know how to look, to endure. I'm pathetic"

"Don't even say it Eddie" You immediately replied by giving him a kiss on the forehead "You're not pathetic"

"Y/N don't fool me. Look. I'm reduced like this and I let you see me like this. I'm a disappointment..." It gave you the impression that his mind as well as his will had given up, something not like Eddie. Trevor had turned him off so much that he turned him back into the insecure and lonely boy he once was.

"You're not. We can find a solution..." You hugged him by bringing your lips close to his ear "We always find a solution. Always" He didn't answer, he just made a sound that you found out was a sob. You still held him tighter than ever, as if you didn't want to leave him. You hated to see him this way, God, you would have done anything to make him happy. And the worst thing was that now you couldn't do much.

"I'm sorry Y/N, you don't deserve someone like me," he said between sobs.

"Don't ever repeat it again Eds, you know I'm happy to have you by my side" You started stroking his curly hair "this time Trevor will pay for it"

"No one will listen to you Y/N" He pulled away from your embrace to wipe away his tears. He was shaking. You think he hasn't vented like this in a lifetime. He was ashamed, he thinks crying is not 'like a real man' or similar bullshit that people say. "No one will ever want to defend 'Eddie, the freak, Munson'. That's why they don't do anything" he revealed to you and clenched his fists. You cast your eye on his rings, on his hands and the strength with which he thitens them. You sat next to him on that bed.

"And how does this make you feel?" you asked, trying to dig into those eyes now dark and lost in the void. Eddie took a while to answer you, thinking about it.

"Angry, very angry. Everyone has always treated me the same." he pauses "no matter how hurt I may be, they will always lower their heads, pretending nothing happened. While that asshole walks around quietly as if nothing had happened!" Frustration was the master in him, the desire to be heard, to be saved and defended for once. The prayers of a boy like the others, who is now an adult, but who had asked for help at the age of 14.

"And this time, that jerk will pay. I assure you. Look at me" Eddie didn't take long to turn around this time. The shining eyes and that defenseless gaze that made your heart melt. You placed your hands on his cheeks, being careful not to hurt him. "I will always be by your side Eds, no matter what happens. I see you Eddie, and I listen to you. I will never let anyone hurt you again," you said and then gave him a tender kiss on the lips. This time you would keep your word.

"And how would you like to do it?"

"Don't worry. Now why don't we go home, rest and I’ll show you tonight?" Your sweet tone relaxes him.

"But shouldn't we have watched a movie tonight and celebrated the night before Halloween?"

"We'll do it, don't worry babe. We're going to watch the movie and talk about this situation. But maybe at the moment it would be better to go to my house and rest" He seems to surrender to your sweet words and your smile that seemed to heal every wound.

"Okay" he nodded more than once with tired eyes, perhaps he had really realized that maybe an afternoon nap would have been good for him.

You brought Eddie to your house. You let him rest in the room and you were surprised to see that he had immediately put us to sleep. Apparently he was really tired. But this would have given you a chance to put your plan into action. You were tired of all this too. Ignoring as Eddie did and hoping that everything would soon be over would have been useless. You had to act and take risks. You took what you needed and left the house. Tonight there would have been no horror movie, because you were about to commit the horror.

.

You've never had the opportunity to do that. He always had people around, every attempt was in vain to find him alone. Trying would have involved many risks of being caught in the act. But you changed your plans, you designed something more feasible, even if it required twice the work and effort, plus twice the equipment.

You promised yourself never to do it again, you swore it to yourself and to God. You've scraped your knees on the ground full of pebbles and dry dirt, in an attempt to cleanse your soul, or at least half of it.

And yet you were there, yet you still couldn't stop that side that intensified in you...

The injustice before your eyes, the memories of your screams, prayers and dreams of a happy life broken in half. The same goes for Eddie. Trevor's tricks were running over the line. Increasingly frequent and violent. You couldn't stand by and watch. It was time to prevent all this, to put an end to it.

You have placed the last layer of plastic paper on the floor. You moved the living room furniture, covered it with plastic sheeting, covered and closed the windows and the front door. Eddie was still asleep and would soon wake up. Meanwhile, you've made sure every door in your home is locked (except your own room) as a precaution and safety. Darkness had taken hold in the streets of Hawkins and everything was ready. Five chairs surrounded you (scattered at different angles of the living room.) Five unconscious guests were tied up and deprived of all movement. They too would soon wake up…

You headed to your room, Eddie was already awake, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. As soon as he notices your presence, he smiles at you slightly.

"Hi" he whispers eagerly.

"Hi. Did you sleep well?" you sat on the bed near him.

"Yes. Even if I continued to have nightmares one after the other" he confesses with a note of shame. You approached to caress his forehead.

"And what did you dream?" Eddie takes a while to answer, perhaps because he had let himself be pampered by your touch, or even because the question made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Everything I've been through... even in middle school" You knew what he was referring to, so you stayed to listen to him "They beat me. They threw buckets of cold water at me, or mocked me at questions or in the cafeteria by throwing food at me" Your hand has crawled on his cheek. You would have consoled and caressed him for life in order to heal him. You thought about it especially when his eyes became shiny.

"And what were you doing?" You asked him, continuing to touch his skin with your fingertips.

"I was watching. Cried. I wished that everything would end. Let them stop" he said in a faint voice, as if revealing a secret.

"Did you take revenge in your nightmare?"

"No"

"Would you like to do that?" Eddie looks at you to that question as if he wanted to intercept your intentions: "If I can ask, of course" you added to inspire him with confidence and comfort.

"Yes" He didn't move, he preferred to stay still to enjoy your touch that made him feel good "I would like to make them understand what it means to be treated like this" you didn't have to know anything else. You put a kiss on his lips. A kiss that didn't last long.

"Come with me" You told him and he nods. You get up and you hold his hand until you get to the living room. The darkness made it impossible to distinguish. You advised him to stay still while you hurried to turn on the light.

His face changes completely when he sees Trevor and his friends bound and gagged on wooden chairs. He dilated his pupils as he searched for explanations in your gaze.

"What is this?" He immediately asked you in a slight tone of panic. You didn't know how to respond to him, how to explain your absurd gesture. You picked up a wooden bat and headed in his direction "Y/N, if it's a joke it's not funny!"

"Don't scream!" you scolded him "everything will end soon"

"What does that mean? Why they are here? Why did you cover the furniture? What do you want to do?" He bombarded you with frightened questions, until a moan distracted you. Trevor had woken up and with him two other friends of his. Perfect timing.

Trevor's face explained well what was going to happen soon, he tried to free himself by squirming, failing miserably. You approached "Someone is awake" you said removing the fabric from his mouth.

"Ugly psychopathic bastards!" He immediately began to scream "How do you dare to drug me, kidnap me and bring me here!? But do you know who am I? Or have you forgotten?" Trevor begins.

"Trust me, very soon no one will know anymore" you replied. His breathing was labored, his hair messed up falling in tufts in front of his face.

"Slut!" He shouted at you, still trying to squirm.

"It's useless for you to keep squirming, you can't free yourself. Much less scream, no one will hear you" You calculated her strength level and that of her friends, you were not stupid. If you had to kidnap someone, you had to do it right. As for the noise and its screams, you made sure to make sure your neighbors weren't there tonight. You called them informing them that their house had been invaded by rats and that tomorrow the disinfestation would solve the problem. Remember Mrs. Dolores' bewildered tone at that news, how she should have informed her husband and moved to her mother's house at least for the night. But after all, there was nothing to worry about! You were a good neighbor, you solved her problem in less than a few minutes. It would all be very sweet if only you hadn't concocted everything.

"Babe, this is insane! What are you doing?" Still his mind tries to realize if all this is a joke or reality.

"What you wanted Eds. I'm tired of you being treated like this, I can't stand by and watch"

Eddie tries to say something, but he can't "Let me understand... Did you two kidnap us just to get revenge?" He says it as if the whole thing were surreal, so much so that he laughs. Meanwhile, his friend, a few meters from him, looks at him with fear and concern. "Eddie the freak, ladies and gentlemen! You think you're scaring me piece of shit? Just because everyone calls you a satanist doesn't mean you have the balls to hurt me... you don't know what I'm going to put you through if you just dare to touch me" He threatens him.

"Don't listen to him Eddie"

"Of course! Don't listen to me, cover your ears. Otherwise, you might start crying. See if you let me go before I report you to the police and untie me!" He still shouts giving orders. Eddie seems paralyzed. Now he doesn't know what to do anymore. Follow the reason? To report you and run away? You approached him slowly. The wooden bat crawls on the floor.

"Remember what he did to you. What they did to you" you turned around him.

"Munson! I told you to untie me. What do you think you are doing there? Find an excuse to make amends?" Trevor was leaking with sweat, his veins on his neck were evident and his face red with rage.

"Remember your nightmares, where everything repeated itself and got worse" You brushed his shoulder with your nose. "Remember those who did not listen to you, who turned their backs on you"

"You're just a freak! You will be forever, useless and alone, with those nerdy loser drawings of yours!" He continues to scream non-stop. You could hear Eddie's heart beating even from a distance. This was the moment when the mind in front of an absurd decision tries to think of solutions, of the one where blood is not allowed. Too bad that the only solution was this. There would have been no way. People like Trevor had to be punished severely. "You don't have the balls to touch me, Munson! Remember! You're an ugly piece of shit, you're useless, like your friends-" He coughs. You could feel Eddie stiffen at those words, his teeth clenched, and his fists clenched. In this case, either he is still undecided and afraid, or he is considering silencing Trevor once and for all.

"Don't forget how no one came to your rescue-" you are interrupted by Trevor.

"-Like your pathetic family! useless pieces of shit! that's what you are!!" You have shaken your hand on the bat. If Eddie wasn't going to do anything, you would do it yourself. You would have no remorse. Meanwhile, the others who have recently woken up try to squirm in an attempt to free themselves. Others, like Chad, who flanked Trevor a few centimeters from him, watched the scene scared to death.

"You're pathetic! You don't deserve shit! See that you are dying! You both deserve to die!! Do you understand?" He screams and laughs at the time. He had gone completely crazy and your patience was reaching its limit.

"Eddie, if you don't do it-" He didn't give you time to finish the sentence, snatched the baseball bat from your hands and began beating Trevor violently. You watched him spill blood on the floor covered in plastic. Again, again and again. Trevor's head was slightly deformed, he may have broken his skull, as well as his jaw.

Trevor had bullied and mocked you since he arrived, sometimes Jason helped him, but he didn't participate so as not to be reprimanded by the teachers. He would snatch the notebooks in which you planned your next campaigns for the Hellfire, and when he wasn't satisfied he would take it out on your friends.

Eddie, covered in some blood, turns to Chad, gets dangerously close to him. Chad fidgeted and moaned something. For a moment Eddie seems to stop, as if thinking about it.

"You remember what Chad did, don't you?" You said behind his back. These words alone were enough to make him hit him as he had done with Trevor. And it went on like this until he killed everyone, one by one.

Chad in the gym made fun of you all the time for your physique, for how you didn't have a gymnastic body like theirs. He wrote to you on the locker room that your mother had given birth to a worm. This hurt you a lot, but not only because of the teasing about your physical appearance, but because of the bad jokes he made about your mother, who passed years ago, and the only one you loved more than anything.

More blood on the floor and broken bones.

Chester made sure to annoy you in the cafeteria when he was bored. He threw food at you, humiliated you in front of your friends and in front of the whole school. You once passed it off as a playful fight with food. Which had worked, but Chester and the others had also thrown the canteen trays at you, and he made sure to throw something sticky in your hair.

Eddie throws the neighbor's chair on the floor and starts beating him too until his shirt turns a very dark red.

Jackson used to remind you that you were different, not accepted by society and that you were a Satanist. He scribbled on your desk, threatened you and ordered you to kill yourself and throw you off a cliff. You spent mostly English lessons trying to ignore the bad things written on your desk.

It was the turn of the last, with the latter Eddie goes hard, because he stays at least an hour beating him and breaking the bones of his face and arms until he was completely tired.

Oliver at school filled your locker with rotten crap or chewing gum. But the worst thing was that it also targeted your house. It wasn't common, but at least once a week he would break a window or send you threatening letters in the mail, threatening you and your Uncle Wayne to leave Hawkins. He always wrote that poor stinking people like you did not deserve to live, but only to die in the middle of the street together with the homeless people.

Eddie walks away tired and throws the bat on the ground. Take labored, fast breaths. You approach slowly from behind him. Blood spread and painted the floor and the covered furniture. The scene was gruesome to say the least. Bodies beaten and with broken facial bones, some even carried serious injuries to the bones of the body. Eddie looks at his blood-stained hands. His pupils dilate, some of his eye capillaries are broken, giving him a bright red complexion. He was sweating, so much so that some of his hair had stuck to his forehead. He was shaking and began to sob. The realization. He understood the crime he had committed. He understood what had taken him.

"What did I do...?" he whispered to himself. Anxiety begins to devour him "I'm a monster..." Here is another step. Blame. Then soon there will be the phase of repentance, but nothing you couldn't manage.

"You're not Eds"

"Don't bullshit me Y/N!!" He screams, turning abruptly. You step back looking at his eyes no longer the ones they were before. "Look what I did!! I'm violent! I am-I am-" He begins to stammer and shed tears.

"Monsters are not born, they are made" you told him in a comforting tone "And these disgusting worms have just seen the monster they thought they saw. In this way they paid the consequences of their actions" Eddie stares at you as if he wanted to try to find meaning in your speech. "You are just a poor victim who because of them, because of their bullying, you crossed the line and exploded" you touched his hand and he for a moment portrays it.

"You..."

"I know what it means, Eddie, I've crossed the line in the past too. I went too far too" He doesn't seem to believe you, as if it were impossible for anyone to actually understand him. "Remember honey: I see you and I hear you. You won't have to hide with me" you told him with that sweet tone that he adores so much. This time you took his hand and he falls to his knees crying.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"It's all right love, I forgive you" you hug him savoring the metallic smell of blood. Eddie holds you close to him and you do the same.

"Don't cry honey, everything will be fine from now on. I'm with you. Why don't you go and take a nice shower while I clean everything up?" you advise him giving him several kisses from the neck to the cheek.

"Can you coming with me? Please?" he whispers to you.

"Of course my love. IYou can go in the meantime, I'll join you right away" He breaks away from the embrace and looks at you. You give him a sweet kiss on the lips and for a moment Eddie closes his eyes. He opens them.

He nods as you take away some tears with your thumb "Okay, I'll go" he says in a trembling voice, still shaken by what happened.

"Good boy, my Eddie." you praise him with a smirk. Eddie heads to the bathroom and you stand there in the middle of that massacre.

You were sorry to have reduced it like that, but it was the only way to finish it all and to make Eddie even more connected to you. If before you were his point of reference, now you are his only hope of life. Not to mention how it reduced Trevor and his friends. The blood, the broken bones, the lifeless eyes, the broken jaws and the deformed noses. What a sublime spectacle. It had been fascinating how suddenly Eddie had taken the bat and started a massacre. Here's what you meant by potential. If Eddie was capable of this, you couldn't imagine what else he was able to do. The demonstration that all human beings are capable of doing something, and for when it might sound good, like a speech that serves to inspire strength, it could actually take on dark and distorted tones. Tonight's could be defined as yet another mental breakdown. Where everything presents itself in front of you like a VHS recording that you can't stop watching. Honestly, you couldn't look anymore, it was too much, and after a thousand warnings the day of judgment had arrived.

You approached Trevor's dead body, blood still gushing from his mouth. She looked at him for a while and you smiled "I think Munson just killed you, I think he had the balls to hurt you" if only he could hear you! it would be a blast! you brushed against his raven hair "Look what you made him do... don't you think you've gone too far?" you whispered. If Trevor had the chance to hear you in the afterlife, well he had to know this. You heard the shower jet open and nonchalantly headed to the bathroom, ready to take care of Eddie.

[lord-squiggletits]

Y'know I kind of feel like when Megatron killed Tarn and said 'I want you to spend your final moments thinking of this: that everything you've done has been for nothing' he was kind of self-projecting onto Tarn? Mainly because at Megatron's statue, M and T had a conversation where Tarn explicitly asked if all the Decepticons in service to Megatron died for nothing, if HE did everything he did for nothing. (And I think M even gave an answer along the lines of 'idk I think we basically did'). And then after Megatron killed the DJD and Rodimus teleported in to rescue him, there was that silent moment where Megatron just stared at Rodimus not moving at all before he finally took his hand at the last moment.

It honestly feels to me like for a while, Megatron fully intended to murder-suicide himself. Murder the DJD, his monsters and his creation, and then take himself out alongside them, because he is also a monster. Because he also feels that everything he's ever done has been for nothing.

Goddamn it's no wonder I liked that scene so much LMAO, as someone who thinks villain Megatron > Autobot Megatron, literally one of his key traits is that Megatron basically took his pain/trauma/worldview and used it to lash out at the universe and try to subjugate it to his vision. So the fact that he took his own pain and brutally murdered the DJD while telling them the very same thing that puts him through so much agony is so very deliciously ironic. And a return, however brief, to the Megatron characterization that I know and love.

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

sorry this took me a while to get to!!

Historical or Futuristic

Defff prefer historical stuff. Idk I’m not really into sci-fi? Usually I write/read semi-modern or fantasy stuff. I have a soft spot for dystopian settings tho :D

Opening or Closing Chapter

I’m gonna be honest here, I have never written an ending chapter. And I don’t know how to! I’m bad at finishing things! It’s much easier for me to begin. And not even at the beginning. I just write something from the middle of a silly plot in my head and post it and just be like “here’s 3 sentences of explanation, have fun” and that’s my idea of an opening chapter woohoo.

Light and Fluffy or Dark and Gritty

Seriously, mad respect to the people who can write fluff. I can’t. I am anti fluff. All characters need to be in situations. Dark and gritty stuff is great but I think my tastes lie a bit in between. It can’t be all dark and gritty. Gotta be a little light stuff in there. Something to hope for. Otherwise I get depressed. 

Animal Companion or Found Family

I have a cat. I do not have a lowkey kinda shit family forcing me to rely on friends for all my family needs. I think my OCs usually end up with nice friend groups rather than like found family stuff specifically. Also one of my OCs has a time kitty who can control time. I think that’s really cool.

Horror or Romance

Look. Cocaine Bear vs Hallmark movies. I know which I’d rather watch. Obviously cocaine bear is not peak horror lmao but girl I am literally so tired of the romance genre and it’s 6 million cishet white man and cishet white girl fall in love Twilight-ass bullshit 😭 Also I’m aromantic. Romance isn’t cool unless it’s dysfunctional and toxic as fuck but not in like the heterosexual way in the queer way. If you get what I mean. Or they eat each other. Idk man. Horror is better. Honestly I think whump could count as a form of horror itself--some of the most horrifying stories I’ve read have been other people’s whump pieces. Horror is fucked up and owns it and I like that. I could go on but let’s leave it there.

Hard Magic System or Soft Magic System

Look I am so bad at making consistent rules. I just get a silly idea and I’m like “yeah I’ll make that work.” I could never make a comprehensive system for all this unless I bullshitted it. It feels like inventing math.

Stand Alone or Series

Literally can’t consistently write a series for the life of me. The devil grants me my writing skills and he gifts me motivation at completely random times for completely random ideas. The shit I post? That’s up to Satan, baby. Also I’m bad at making series so everything ends up being stand alone anyways just in case I never write the next one. I love love love reading series tho. Shoutout to writers who can do that I love you all very much.

One Project at a Time or Always Juggling 2+ 

Just look at my masterlist. My WIPs folder has like 10 projects in there. Never, ever have I been able to do one project at a time. Too many silly ideas in this accursed brain.

One Award Winner or One Bestseller 

I’d get embarrassed if so many people read my book,,, also I feel like winning an award is easier to brag about. Actually no if I do become a published author, I would ideally like to have a small but dedicated fanbase that makes a fuck ton of video essays and dissertations about my book. Also they have to be at least 10 years late.

Fantasy or Sci-Fi 

I like the silly things you can do in fantasy. Like immortality and curses and stuff. Idk how to explain it man. Also fantasy outfits are cooler sorry.

Character Description or Setting Description 

I am so bad at settings. Theyre all kinda vague in my head. Characters I’m better at. Also cuz I usually get a visual reference for them so it’s easier to describe them.

First Draft or Final Draft 

If I can get to it, that is.

---

tagging uhhhh anyone who wants to jump in cuz I am become Tired and I cannot do a thought rn. have fun guys :D

This or That Tag

Thanks @verkja for the tag!

Historical or Futuristic

Hm…I prefer to write in a setting that’s loosely based on irl historically-inspired timelines. It serves as a sort of backdrop I can manipulate into an entirely different setting— which works great for writing fantasy. But if I’m reading, I love a futuristic setting.

Opening or Closing Chapter

Okay I love both but an opening chapter sets the stage— it can have so much tension and I love it when a story hits the ground running.

Light and Fluffy or Dark and Gritty

Dark and gritty! Serious undertones and desperate characters and the snap of a lighter in the background? Yes please.

Animal Companion or Found Family

Well, I’ve never written a character with an Animal Companion before, so we’re going with Found Family.

Horror or Romance

Eh, neither. Romance stories really aren’t something I enjoy and Horror may be slightly better, but if I had a choice, I wouldn’t read horror either.

Hard Magic System or Soft Magic System

I like the creative license a soft magic system gives me. I have tried to write a hard magic system but I often box myself in with rules that contradict themselves…so soft magic system it is.

Stand Alone or Series

Cannot for the life of me write a stand alone. The stories always drag on way past the ending I had planned so I usually try to write in trilogies or in interconnected stories.

One Project at a Time or Always Juggling 2+

Oh lord, I wish I wasn’t juggling so many. But my brain refuses to just work on one WIP— always bringing in different ideas, like the jerk it is.

One Award Winner or One Bestseller

If I was ever traditionally published, then I’d have to go with the award winner. I feel like it would be more satisfying, but idk.

Fantasy or Sci-Fi

Fantasy. Yes. That’s all >:D

Character Description or Setting Description

I struggle more with setting description than with describing my characters. I guess I’m worried I’ll bore my readers by over describing the scenery, and so by default writing setting also bores me.

First Draft or Final Draft

Ha it would be great if I could finish either. But yeah, final draft— I can’t think of anything I want more than holding a completed manuscript in my hands.

tagging: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast, @another-whump-sideblog, @whump-queen, @whither-wander-whump— if you want to, no pressure!

[random-autie-fangirl]

The saddest idea for what happened to Chara in Deltarune is that they climbed the Mt. Ebbot like in Undertale but well...since the monsters left early on, there's no-one to save Chara when they fall and so they just lie there or wander around wounded until they are..."erased from existence" just like they always wanted.

[icewindandboringhorror]

just a few little bits from the past few days

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[mad-hunts]

one thing that i think about in regards to how complex barton's relationship with his kids is is that, at the same time that he will treat someone like poor jack (his youngest son) like he has no idea what to make of him, because he isn't 'like anyone in the family?' and thus, in turn, he is harshly critical on him? well... there are also these little 'blooms' of humanity that one may notice in their relationship, i suppose you could call them; and what i mean by that is that, over the years, barton has shown jack glimpses of humanity even though it may seem like he's deprived of it at least 50% of the time.

one example that stands out to me in particular is before jack was diagnosed with nightmare disorder, which — not so fun fact — kept him up for weeks on end once upon a time because his nightmares were so bad... barton slept in the same bed as his son because he was worried about him + might've even cuddled him a few times when things got particularly bad, like he did when jack was a baby. so once again, it's like. barton is ultimately a bad person, yes, because of everything that he's done. i certainly won't argue against that. but i think this shows that he is capable of being a semi-decent person.

and that makes it even more devastating that the path barton chose to take is the one that indirectly followed in his father's footsteps because it's also cruel as well as excessively violent.