#this could be executed better but i needed to get it out of my skull

[flygutz]

the passenger & giles corey lyrics (no one is ever going to want me + i'm going to do it)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Demon Queen Headcannons (1)

Introduction | Part 2 | Kofi

The Demon Queen is adamant that you drink from her even if you're a month off of weening

She just has to get that instinct out 

Constantly holding you against her monumental chest just like she did with her first

Unlike humans who have a nursery, demons make nests

A Soft comfortable place for her and her baby

Hers is in the deep dungeons of one of her many castles

Moving to an identical copy of her nest for wherever she feels like 

Currently, her nest is like a pod

Open and closed by a very specific spell 

The floor is a carpet of flower petals, soft, soothing, and place magically grown to keep fussy babies calm

And that’s what life’s like for you, if not in the soft chest of your new Mama

It’ll be weeks before she will actually part with you to attend her duties

Rarely does she deem any situation dire enough to leave her nest 

But when she does you’re in tow

Swaddled and likely sleeping she has a standing bassinet

Level and matching with her skull-covered throne

“Ah!”

“Yes, we’ll do the obvious thwing mwy lwove!”

“We’ll….proceed with the assassin plan?”

“YES IDIOT! Now go it smells like my baby needs a diaper change!”

Your Demon Queen Mama doesn’t care in the slightest that you’re a human

She loves how long it’s taking for you to grow just a little bit

Demon babes with their extra month in the womb spend less time getting older

Humans on the other hand have a more standard rate of growth

Which she quickly studies up on when she gets concerned that you aren’t speaking yet and can barely lift your head on your own

She proudly hold you in her arms as she speaks to her generals about your development

Her generals will often share there own knowledge about children in concern about hers

While she may scoff and wave them off 

Their concerns usually ignite something she was wondering about

“My Queen is a human babe supposed to not have teeth at this age? Perhaps they’ll need implants?”

“FOOLISH! My baby will need no such thing!”

“I see. Excuse me, my lady.”

“....Say (Y/n) will teeth somehow magically appear within here?”

“Ohhh! Baa!”

Other than the strong learning curve she adores her human baby and celebrates all your major milestones

Making sure to execute anyone who refuses you or even remotely doesn’t pretend to also be so proud

And the first that she does this to is her concubines

You didn’t think she just had this baby with some random 

No no no 

She has a total of three concubines, every now and then she’ll accept another for political purposes but it’s a known fact that they won’t last long

After all her three concubines are known as the three Reapers

One way or another making sure they are the only ones in the Queen’s bed

Something the Queen has always treasured

Loyalty with their entire being

From fear and love a volatile mix of both

The same that she has with you 

And who better to teach you about what to expect than them

She’s…cautious when it comes to you meeting them

While she can’t deny they were among the few who could be near her when she had her…..slump

She also knows their ruthlessness does not stop at rivals in love

anyone who threatens her reign, happiness, and goals they intervene 

Usually without her instruction

She worries they might do the same

But of course both scaring and exciting, the first concubine approaches first

“Oh my Queen! May I sit on the edge of your nest to see your precious baby?”

“You…may…”

She refuses to let her eldest concubine come much closer than that

Already bold to even enter the room, she’s suspicious of her

Her eldest concubine is Milune, gorgeous as she is soft

She’s the Queen’s go-to for comfort

Unbelievably soft in a world full of demons, the Queen adores the balance 

she thanks her human parents for that

“My Queen I’ve brought a specially crafted wunzie for your little one! Can they try it on?”

“They can…but I will inspect it first.”

“Of course!” 

The Queen does recall just how eager she was to help her craft her nest

Lovingly adding her unique magic to the protective spells around it

Recalling a discussion she had with her about being a mother herself

“If my Queen wished it I’d love to conceive for you! Or to handle the raising of the little one when you’re crushing all of humanity! Whatever you wish for your majesty!”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to let her hold you….only once of course

“Ahh~! Look at you! Aren’t you a joy to behold!”

Milune is holding you up high and filling your face with kisses 

Making baby you laugh

The Queen is torn between happiness at her acceptance of you….and jealousy

Now beginning to master walking, she’s just sad you aren’t crawling only to her anymore

…but she figures its not that bad when she finds a gaggle of elven assassins dead bodies strewn all over the hallway

“They got far too close to the baby, my Queen! Plus the little one just got down for their nap!” 

She’s pretty sure your hearing isn’t that good but she doesn’t mind

In fact she thinks it’s great

Absolutely showering Milune in affection and more responsibility with you

“Oh little one! Come sit in mama Milune’s lap! While we watch your Mama massacre these insolent worms.”

Milune is delighted

As someone who grieved alongside the Queen, your existence brings her a similar joy

And what better way to honor her Queen and love by showering you in the same obsession her Queen adores

When she pretends that your her baby too you are

She’s certain she’d do anything for you and kill whoever she’s allied with to protect you

Including the concubines she’s made a pact with...

TBC...

[inkskinned]

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

[wxxpingangxls]

WET

+synopsis; the hottest criminal solicitor is in town and she’s ready to fight tooth and nail to prove her new clients innocence. I wonder how he’ll thank her…

+content/warnings; black reader but little to no explicit detail, taboo relationships, stalking, peeping tom, death threats, begging, mentions of murder, graphic details, angst, cheating, reader smokes, semi public, oil massage, nasty and messy sex, squirting, brief toe sucking, running from him, pussy drunk Toji, mr munch, ass eating, Toji is grown and got stubble, face sitting, 69, mating press, doggy style, overstimulation

+pairings; Felon Toji x Lawyer!Fem Black Reader

+a/n; ending is rushed idk why 😞😞 but i hope you enjoy lovely’s!!!🩷

“So, Mr Fushi… Uh, so what exactly are we here to discuss today?” you stated, papers on the table and pen in your hand ready to note down.

He raised an eyebrow as his eyes wandered down to the bright diamond ring blinking at him on your finger. You were used to this behaviour. Felons and criminals acting cold and calloused as if you weren’t the one thing between them and their freedom.

“Look, I don’t want to be here either. But we have got to work together. There’s no point in you sitting on your arse, acting as if I don’t have better places to be. I could be on a trip to Barbados right now but I’m stuck here saving your arse-“

“You done?” he interrupted slyly.

“No, I’m not done. You’re wasting everybody’s time. It’s not my fault you decided to kill that guy at the bar. The court appointed me as your attorney and so I’m going to try my best to help you win this case but I can only do so much.” you huffed at the end of the long speech watching his eyes close in annoyance.

“Look lady, I’ve got a child to go back home to, I don’t have time for this. Can you get my case dismissed or not?”

“I was getting to that,” you stated with venom laced on your tongue. “We can always claim self defence. Given your history there’s not much else,” The question of whether he had a mental illness crossed your mind but quite frankly, you weren’t in the mood to converse with this fiend any longer.

“That’s a pretty ring ya got there… You married?” he questioned. His cuffed hands were lying in his lap. This man had stressed you so damn much that you hadn’t realised how, handsome, he was. Despite the ugly and completely unflattering appearance of the orange jumpsuit, you could see the tattoos that encapsulated his large biceps, big enough to crush your skull with. The man you were defending - or rather attempting to - had the meanest mug written all over his face. But you were a woman before you were a lawyer, and your heart was with another.

“Not yet, I’m engaged,” you huffed.

Toji scoffed before turning to face the large mirror. “Is that all Mr Fushiguro? If so, I’ll be on my way,” and without another word, you swiftly left the room, closing the door on the way out. The correctional officer walked out towards you. “Did he tell ya what ‘appened? Ya know with the guy?” You eyed the officer down, observing his hands that were stationed on his belt. “Exuse me? I’m not entitled to disclose that information,” you rolled your eyes as the click clacking of your heels echoed across the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was your day?” your fiancé kissed your temple as you looked down at the plate of food in front of you.

“It was okay,” you shrugged indifferently.

Your fiancé was the executive marketer of a large company. “I’m sorry to here that, I’ll be upstairs if you need me,”

You didn’t say a word as he walked away. In spite of the disturbing scene unfolding in front of your eyes on the TV whilst watching “The Perfection”, you couldn’t help but wonder how Mr Fushiguro was going. Sure he had a nasty mouth and the patience of a toothpick but there was something so intriguing about him. Maybe it’s because you were tired of you boring and plain life. You’ve always been like that.

It wasn’t anything new for you to leave something that was perfectly good to something subpar purely out of boredom and this was no exception.

The next few weeks consisted of you mostly signing papers, talking with your client, viewing crime scene photos and talking to detectives on the case.

The old Bailey loomed large and imposing, its grandeur echoing centuries of justice. Inside, the air was thick with anticipation and tension. You were a sharp and tenacious criminal lawyer, and this was no new information as you adjusted your barrister's wig, your eyes scanning the courtroom. Your reputation for winning impossible cases was well-earned, and today, your skills would be put to the test.

Toji Fushiguro, your client, sat at the defendant’s table. His presence was both magnetic and menacing, a dangerous mix that had everyone on edge. Accused of a brutal murder, his piercing green eyes betrayed no emotion as he watched the proceedings unfold.

Your first meeting had been fraught with silent judgments and unspoken words. You had read his file meticulously, aware of the gravity of the crime he was accused of. A single father found dead in at the bar, after a fight had broke out, all evidence pointing towards Toji. Yet, something about the case felt off to you, an instinct you couldn’t ignore.

You spent countless hours pouring over the evidence, every piece scrutinized under your critical gaze. Late nights at the office became routine, the flickering desk lamp being your only companion. Toji's file lay open before you, his eyes in the mugshot staring back with a challenge and scar in menacing smirk.

The interviews were intense. Toji, ever the enigma, offered little help. His answers were curt, often cloaked in sarcasm. But there was something beneath the surface, a flicker of vulnerability that intrigued you.

A ghost of a smile played on Toji’s lips. “You’re different from the others. They’ve all looked at me like I’m already convicted.”

"So? Why would you think I'm different? Let’s not forget why I’m here,” you stated.

Days turned into weeks, and your professional relationship took on a different hue. There was a dangerous allure in Toji’s defiance, a charisma that drew you in despite your better judgment. You guys would often find yourselves locked in heated debates, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day in court, you found yourself in a dimly lit pub, nursing a bourbon. The door creaked open, and Toji walked in, flanked by the ever-present guards. Their eyes met across the room, a silent understanding passing between them.

“What the hell are you doing here, Fushiguro?,” you said as he approached the table, your voice low.

“I needed a drink,” Toji shrugged, sitting opposite you. The guards stood discreetly nearby, giving them a semblance of privacy.

You arched an eyebrow. “Well then, get your damn drink and leave me be?”

Toji leaned forward, his eyes darkening. “I think you’re the only person who sees me as more than just a murderer.”

“Oh please, that’s my job as a defendant. You’re onto nothing,”

Your heart pounded in your chest. The line between right and wrong blurred, your connection undeniable and perilous. you knew you were treading dangerous waters, but something about Toji made it impossible to walk away.

As the trial progressed, your determination to uncover the truth deepened. You successfully discovered inconsistencies in the evidence, hidden motives that pointed towards another suspect. Each revelation brought you closer, your late-night strategy sessions charged with a mix of frustration and undeniable chemistry.

The day of the verdict arrived, tension palpable in the courtroom. You stood tall, closing arguments a masterclass in legal brilliance. You had laid out the evidence meticulously, casting doubt on the prosecution’s case.

As the jury filed back in, the room held its breath. The foreman stood, the verdict hanging in the balance.

“Not guilty.”

The words echoed, a collective sigh of relief from your team. Toji turned to you, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper in his eyes. You couldn’t show your true feelings, not here, not now. But the promise of something more lingered between the energy in the air.

As the two of you continued to stare, a bright blinding bling brought his attention back to the engagement right adorning your right finger.

A few weeks after the trial, life starts to return to normal. Your fiancé working hard to make you happy, however your client still plagued your mind.

Your routine became his script. He knew when you left for work, the route you took, where you got your morning coffee. You would catch glimpses of him sometimes—at least you think you do—a flash of his face in a crowd, the shape of his shoulders disappearing around a corner.

One evening, as you leave your office, you feel it again—that sensation of being watched. You quickened your pace, glancing over your shoulder, but the street is empty. You told yourself it’s just your imagination, but the fear lingers.

Toji followed at a distance, his footsteps silent. He knows how to blend into the shadows, how to remain unseen. Every time you turn around, he steps just out of sight, watching you with a predatory intensity. His mind races with thoughts of you, dark fantasies that he can't shake.

Despite the ever growing suspicion of a potential stalker, you decide to treat yourself to a massage at your favorite spa, hoping to find some peace. The soft music and dim lighting work their magic as you settle onto the table, your mind beginning to unwind. An all too familiar and soft female voice tickles your ear, “Hey honey, just give me five and I’ll be back to give you the massage of your life,”

“Hurry Tina, my back hurts,”

A few moments pass before the masseur enters. You hear the door close softly and the click of bottles being opened. Hands begin to work on your tense muscles, and you let out a sigh of relief. The touch is skilled, firm yet gentle, but there is something vaguely unfamiliar about it.

A whisper brushes against your ear. “Did you miss me?”

Your eyes snap open in shock. Toji’s voice is unmistakable. Your heart races as you realize the hands on your body belong to him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice steady.

Toji’s hands continue their work, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I needed to see you. To feel you.”

“What the fuck does that even mean, you bastard? I thought you had a kid to go home to. Instead you’re here feeling me up. Have you no shame?” you whisper, torn between fear and a forbidden thrill.

“I know,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear. “But I can’t stay away from you. You’re in my blood, Y/N.”

“Bullshit, you bum,” you spit.

His words are intoxicating, and you find yourself caught in a web of desire and danger. Every stroke of his hands ignites a fire within you, a fire you thought you had extinguished.

You know this is wrong, that you should stop him, but your body betrays you, melting under his touch. The line between right and wrong, sanity and madness, blurs once more.

As Toji’s hands explore your body, you realize that you are no longer just in the shadow of doubt. You are in the shadow of obsession, and there is no turning back. Your mean words did nothing but further push him to make you his.

“If you want me to stop, you know the word,” he carefully caresses the skin of your lower back. You weighed out your options. You were going to be married soon, if you were going to live life you’d might as well do it now before it was too late.

You hummed in acknowledgment, before finally agreeing to his lingering touches. It was going to be a one time thing after all. He gently flipped you over so that you were lying on your back. “Just so you know, Toji, this is a one time thing. After all I’m engaged.” he ignored you as he grabbed your thighs so that they were touching your chest.

He watched as your cunt leaked out before he’d even touch you. His hands weren’t even that good. He figured it must’ve been a long while since you’ve been dicked down good.

He wasted no time before sucking on your bud, your moans being loudly ripped from your chest. “Fuck!” you knew it’d been a while since he’d had some pussy, but damn it couldn’t have been that long. He groaned out from your sweet taste. “My God, I didn’t think you’d taste this good…” he whined out.

He spat on your clit making sure his saliva ran down to your puckered hole, ultimately making a mess out of you. “Oh yes!” you moaned out before cupping your mouth. You had momentarily forgotten you were in public, but the shame of being too loud quickly left your soul as Toji continued to suck on your pussy.

His tongue entered your tight hole, expanding the tight rim. “You ever had your ass ate before?”

“Excuse me?” you sat up utterly shocked.

“N…No? What kind of question is that?”

“Huh…No wonder you’re such a tight ass…Literally…” he scoffed.

He continued his ministrations on your sweet cunt. “If we had some privacy I’d eat your ass out so good,”

You couldn’t even keep your legs up anymore, your orgasm was coming closer. Toji knew this well and started sucking and pulling on your clit. Your face scrunched up in pure bliss. Bliss you hadn’t felt in ages. “Mphm! Toji!”

“Yeah, that’s what I like to hear.” he groaned out in the response.

“Right there Toji! M’ so close!”

A harsh knock interrupted his actions as your abruptly sat up. “Y/N? Oh my Goodness? Are you ok?” Tina asked from the other-side of the door. She shook the door handle multiple times before banging on the door again. “Did you lock the door? Open it please!”

“Did you seriously lock the damn door?” you knocked the upside of Toji’s head.

“I wanted us to have some privacy,” he shrugged indifferently.

You rolled your eyes before groaning, “Hello? Who are you talking to because I know it’s not me,” Tina huffed out annoyed.

“No one, give me a minute I’m coming.” You ushered Toji out to hide behind the cupboard door. The plan was when Tina wasn’t looking, you’d have Toji sneak out then back to the front door. From the minute you met your client you count tell he was a fool. Did you think he was that much of a fool? No. No one could’ve predicted this amount of foolishness. You silently scolded the man as he stood behind the door, waiting for the right moment to sneak out.

One night, after a long bath, you slipped into your favorite silk bathrobe, its softness a comforting embrace. The moonlight filtered through the curtains as you stood by your bedroom window, looking out into the night, wine glass in hand. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but your mind was far away, consumed by thoughts of Toji.

Unbeknownst to you, Toji was there, hidden in the shadows outside your window. His eyes were locked on you, a hunger burning within them. He watched the way the silk clings to your body, every movement a tantalizing tease.

You sighed, running a hand through your damp hair, oblivious to his presence. Toji’s heart raced as he imagined what it would be like to touch you again, to feel your warmth against him. The memory of your pussy haunts him, a forbidden pleasure that he craves more than anything.

He knew this was wrong, that he should stay away, but the pull is irresistible. You were in his blood, an obsession that consumed him. His eyes traced the curve of your neck, the way your robe parts slightly, revealing a glimpse of the cleavage beneath.

Inside, you closed your eyes, lost in thought. Your fiancé was a good man, but he didn’t ignite the same fire in you that Toji does. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they keep returning, relentless and unforgiving.

Toji’s breath hitched as you loosened the belt of your robe, letting it fall open slightly. He gripped the windowsill, fighting the urge to break in, to take what he so desperately desires. His mind raced with dark fantasies, each one more intoxicating than the last.

You stepped away from the window, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. Toji watched every movement, his body tense with longing. He knew he should leave, but he couldn’t tear himself away. You were his obsession, a forbidden fruit that he was determined to possess.

As you disappeared from view, Toji lingered a moment longer, the image of you burned into his mind. He will find a way to have you, to make you his. In the shadow of obsession, he waits, his desire growing stronger with each passing night.

Your ever growing need for Toji’s mysteriousness pulled you further into a dark pit you knew it’ll be hard to get out of. And if your fiancé was to find out, you’d surely be casted away as a harlot. You had to choose between your pussy and your head, and you had to choose wisely. Will you do the right thing and stay true to your fiance, rejecting Toji’s advances and promises to eat you out so good or will you go behind your husband to be’s back and sleep with the same murderer you helped avoid jail time?

For a minute, one might’ve compared your mental turmoil to that of Hamlets distain and hesitation upon hearing that his father was killed and now he was set to avenge him by killing his uncle but these were two very different situations.

But alas, you believed that you could have many men in your head but as long as you had your true love in your heart then you’re a loyal woman.

That’s exactly how you found yourself with your mouth full of his thick and slimy cock whilst smothering his face with your cunt. Sucks and slurps filled the room as the two of you got on with such harshness of enemies. The gargling of his dick filled the room while he moved his head back momentarily to watch as you clenched on his fingers, holes begging to be filled. He smirked as a glimmer of an idea flicked in his eyes, as they peered up to your winking hole.

His tounge slowly lols out before giving the tight hole a small lick. He let out a boisterous laugh as he watched you shudder and mumble to no avail. His deft fingers moved to your clit as he found a rhythm for his tongue to moaned against your puckered hole. You grind your pussy against his face, moans muffled by his thick cock.

Your clit throbbed as his fingers moved faster, never loosing their grip and his tongue keeping its rhythm. You groaned loudly and clearly this time, his dick was now limp and his cum was scattered all over his thighs and your mouth. You squealed out his name and his onslaught on your slick pussy only got more overwhelming for you and you had no where to move.

Your back arched from the overstimulation and your hands clenched at the pleasure he was feeding you. What you had done to deserve such a treat, you had no idea, but you weren’t complaining. Toji’s hands came down on your cheeks, rubbing and massaging the muscle as he did.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your belly tightened and without a word, he knew you were about to cum. He quickly swapped his tongue and hands, sliding a finger into your asshole and placing his lips around your sweet clit. The spiky stubble of his hair added to your stimulation , adding to your pleasure.

There was no holding back with Toji . He was here to show you how to feel good. “Move,” without warning he turned his head to the side, tapping your arse twice. You blinked your confusion away as his hands guided you so that he was looming over you. You couldn’t say a single thing before you felt that familiar burning of his girth stretching you out. Drool seeped from your mouth as he reached deeper.

“Ah ha ha. Feels good, doesn’t it baby?” he boasted.

Nothing but babbles left your mouth as he gently lulled you to silence. With a firm grip on your hand, and his duck fully sheathed into your deep pussy, he began his rough thrust. Fap. Fap. Fap. Fast paced thrusting in and out, knocking the wind from you. He had rendered you completely speechless which was almost impossible given the type of person you were.

“Lights are on but no one’s home…” he chuckled to himself as he continued to slip in and out.

You whined and squealed as you felt his curved dick rub against your g-spot. It was far too much for you, your cheeks were hot and throbbing, lips bitten and bruised and your throat dry and sore. Tears flew from your eyes and his fast thrusting never faulted but instead intensified as he realised where he was hitting.

“I know you didn’t try to fucking run from me,” he comments sternly. For a second you feel yourself go numb. All you needed was a moment to collect yourself. It was far too much is what you tried telling him, begging for a semblance of a break.

“You ever try that shit on me again, I’ll tie you up,” He flips you over with a firm grip on your hip, pushing your legs up your ears. “Toji? Toji!” you whine in estxasy and his dick reach’s deep. “Wait! Toji, Please!”

“Please what, girl?”

You opened your mouth to speak , but before you could, he started moving again, impaling you on the hefty limb. He watched as your expressions contorted from bliss to shock, upon feeling a wet and slimy tongue between your toes. This man was nasty, downright sick, and you loved every second of it.

A fat thumb lingered down to the small bud, before rubbing vigorously, He watched as your moaning became high pitched and your hips bucked. Your stomach sucked itself in as you tried escaping his grasp, squirming in his nearly painful grips. “Oh my- Toji, Wait! I’m going to to-!”

Your loud plea was interrupted by an obscene squelch and a splashing ad a stream of juices left your sore cunt and aimed right for the mans chest. He jeers as he saw your o-face falling inlove even further. It didn’t take a while for him to pump you full of his thick hot cum, and it certainly didn’t take long for your fiance to get the picture Toji sent of him eating your used up and stuffed cunt out.

It also didn’t take long for Toji to send a video of him stuffing you again in full nelson this time, making you hold the phone.

It also didn’t take long for Toji to get in trouble again with the law. You too hadn’t seen each other since that eventful night and he couldn’t help but be grateful, for if you knew just how nasty he was, you would’ve killed him yourself and he wouldn’t blame you.

After the whole debacle was dealt with, he found himself yet again being arrested, and on the other side of the conjugal line was you. Sitting prettily in your work attire, brand new engagement ring sitting on your finger as you discussed his charges. “I miss you Y/N” he’d say. “I wonder what you’re up to these days,” he’d enquire, knowing full well, if he was free he wouldn’t have to.

And whether Toji turned himself in on purpose after everything he’s done just to see your bright face again, or whether it was a pure coincidence that he’d just so happened to be arrested for something he had gotten away with for so long, you had no idea.

All you knew is that you regretted that night.

Well, not entirely.

[stervrucht]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠 🪱

Thank you for the tag @just-my-latest-hyperfixation 🧡

Today I’m thinking about this ridiculous story of a friend of mine, who, after she thought she’d been ghosted, proceeded to hold a cremation by burning the guy’s picture, only to receive a text right after.

“Where are we going, Eddie?”

Dustin’s tone is starting to grate on his nerves and Eddie needs to take a deep breath to calm his voice before responding. 

“I told you, a small detour.”

“Through the woods? What about the guitar lessons?”

“Yes, through the woods," Eddie snaps. 

He doesn’t even have to look to his side to know Dustin is pouting. Despite that, the little guy still follows him, ducking underneath the brush as they make their way to Skull Rock. 

He didn’t tell Dustin—doesn’t think there’s an adequate way to explain that this was what he did whenever he was dealing with a serious bout of heartbreak. That—because Steve Harrington hadn’t been answering his phone and clearly dumped Eddie without the courage to say so to his face—Eddie now needed to initiate the Cremation Stage. 

Yeah, you heard that right.

It first happened three years ago, after Stacy Morgan landed on him during a game of spin-the-bottle and cried after kissing him. That one kinda stung. 

After a bit of dumb back and forth, he and Gareth decided to cut her picture from the yearbook and held a stupid little funeral—speeches and all. After they were done and said their goodbyes, they burned the picture. It made him feel better. So much so, that it became a dumb little habit.

One he hadn’t executed that often, really.

Which is why it sucks so much he is off to Skull Rock, the place he first kissed Steve Harrington against the expectations of everyone ever, to burn his stupid picture.

When they finally reach Skull Rock, Eddie digs through his pockets and pulls out his Zippo and Steve’s picture. Dustin leans over his shoulder, knees digging into the back of Eddie’s arm as he leans over to watch.

“Why do you have a picture of Steve?”

“Because.” Eddie strikes the Zippo, trying to make it catch flame, but the old thing is protesting.

“Because why?”

The stupid thing still won’t catch. Eddie strikes his thumb over the wheel with a little more aggression—pulls his lips into a thin line, frustration pulling at his gut. “Because I need to burn it.”

“Why?”

Eddie throws his hands. “Because I have to okay! Because—”

Because Steve’s finally realized Eddie was a mistake. And Eddie knew the day would come. He was just pushing his head in the sand like a fucking ostrich, hoping he could enjoy what little time Steve was willing to give him. He just hoped Steve would have had the guts to actually say so to his face.

He can’t tell Dustin any of that though. 

Finally, the Zippo produces flame and Eddie holds the corner of Steve’s yearbook picture near it. It takes a few seconds, but soon enough the picture engulfs into flames and Eddie has to drop it between the twigs and dried leaves. He allows it to burn for a few seconds until the leaves around it start to smolder. He quickly kills the flame with his shoes and once he removes his feet, only ash is left of what was once an image of Senior Steve.

Eddie pulls himself into a standing position and slips the Zippo back into his pocket.

“All done.”

“Dude, that was so weird.”

“No, it wasn’t. And don’t tell Steve about this.” 

Dustin raises an eyebrow at him but probably senses it’s best to not push it.

“Can we go play guitar now?”

“Yeah, man, whatever. Let’s go.”

A little while later, Eddie sits in Dustin’s bedroom, his guitar in his lap as he shows Dustin some chords to Metallica. The little dude learns fast, last week's chords already dexterously mastered. A little more and he’ll be playing his first full song. Now, just to get a feeling for it, he makes Dustin play the same five chords as base while Eddie plays the more complex parts of the song. 

He’s actually starting to get into it when the doorbell to the Henderson residence rings.

“Really, now?” Dustin lets out a frustrated sigh and puts his guitar down on his bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie hums and continues picking at the snares. Mumbles along to the song until he hears Dustin return to the room.

“Oh, hey Eddie.”

Eddie looks up. That didn’t sound like Dustin. That sounded like—

“Steve.” Eddie is staring at Steve standing in Dustin’s doorframe. Can’t do anything else than stare because an hour ago, he cremated Steve. 

And now he’s here.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Steve lets out a little laugh. And it’s not the ‘oh shit I ran into my ex’ kind. It’s the genuine kind. The fond kind.

Dustin pushes himself past Steve into his bedroom. “I told you, I’d give it back to you on Monday,” he complains.

Steve rolls his eyes, watching with amusement as Dustin digs through his closet.

“W—where have you been?” Eddie hardly dares to ask. He tries to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Ugh, my parents man. They took me on some campus visits to fancy universities. Didn’t give me any warning either. It sucked balls.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not great. How have you been holding up with this asshat the past few days.” Steve looks back to where Dustin is now clearing the lower levels of his closet. 

“I heard that!” he calls back. 

“I…I’ve been doing just dandy.” Eddie shoots Steve a little smile, and yes, that’s definitely fondness in Steve’s face. God, he’s such an idiot.

A total overreaction. 

When Dustin rears his head from the closet, proudly holding a cassette tape, Eddie thinks he needs to make sure Dustin takes this little Skull Rock detour to the grave. 

---

No pressure tags for @sleepy-steve @spectrum-spectre @runninriot @wheneverfeasible @eddiethebrave

[starstruckkittensweets]

puppy love

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

My latest fixation, Chuuya with puppies! My precious boy deserves to be happy with a doggy of his own, so I decided to play into this little fantasy of mine (and his, probably). I'm planning on writing more parts to this lil series, I think it's helping me get out of my writing slump. Also parts of this fic are inspired by Shiloh, one of my all-time favorite books (so much nostalgia...) and a bit of a reference to that one puppy episode from Wan. And the panel I used for the banner is from the BSD manga (I think it's ch. 24) I hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of stray animals, Reader cries but it's in relief, mostly fluff, pet names (mostly "doll" but used only once in this part), the start of a slow burn perhaps? || words: 2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

He’s halfway through his usual trek home, muscles burning and head pounding from another successful night’s mission, when he realizes he has a shadow.

Chuuya doesn’t let up his pace; stay calm, don’t give anything away—but he has to wonder, who could be this stupid to try to follow a mafia executive? And they’re not being subtle about it either. Making no effort to conceal their breaths or their footsteps—

Wait a minute…that sounds too light to be footsteps…

He sucks in a breath and turns around to face the culprit. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, preparing for a fight—

“Woof!”

Staring up at him is perhaps one of the cutest fucking dogs he’s ever laid eyes on. (Not that he’s seen many dogs, but the point still stands.) Pointy ears, fuzzy orange fur, white paws and a belly that definitely looks too plump for a street dog.

He stares at it. The dog stares back, pink tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.

“…Woof!”

It takes every ounce of strength he can muster not to melt right then and there on the sidewalk. A thousand squeals on the tip of his tongue, gloved hands itching to scratch under that fuzzy little chin of his.

Never mind any dog hair, fuck that. Who’s gonna try to turn their nose up at this little cutie?

Chuuya briefly scans the area—not a soul in sight, just him and his companion beneath the lamplights—before dropping to his knees. The dog paws at the ground, his curly tail swishing madly in the air.

“C’mere boy,” he keeps his voice soft, holding out a hand. But the dog doesn’t budge. He just stares at him with that big dumb smile of his.

That really adorable dumb smile.

He tries again. The dog tilts his head and refuses to move. So Chuuya tries another tactic: “C’mere, girl?”

Still doesn’t move a muscle. Although now the dog looks amused as he paces from side to side, just out of Chuuya’s reach.

Yeah, gotta be a boy with that kind of attitude.

Chuuya sighs before pushing himself off the ground. Ah well, guess he’s too nervous to approach humans. Can’t really blame him for that; this city’s got its fair share of unpleasant people. He deals with them all the time, so he can kinda relate.

He shoves his hands back into his pockets (try not to think about how soft the dog’s fur must be) and turns on his heel to head home. It’s getting late anyway, and he’s got to get an early start tomorrow morning. He can’t be spending all night moping around some stray puppy following him around.

Even if he is the cutest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

But he only gets a few steps in before hearing the unmistakable click-click of the dog’s nails against the pavement. He stops, the dog stops too. He glances over his shoulder, biting back a smile at the dog’s happy face.

“What do you want, huh? I don’t have any food, so if that’s what you’re looking for…”

Not that he looks like he needs any treats to begin with. He’s seen a few of the dogs roaming around Yokohama, all skin and bones as they pick through tipped-over trash cans. And the stray cats are no better, ears flat against their skulls as they hiss and claw at everything in sight.

So why does this dog look so fucking proud of himself?

Chuuya sighs and whistles to himself—and suddenly the dog comes running.

Two dirty paws plant themselves on his dress pants, that’ll surely be hard to get out, but how can he get angry when the dog’s trying so hard to reach his face? He chuckles under his breath as he kneels down to his level, as the dog plants kiss after kiss on his face with his slobbery tongue.

“Who knew all it took was a whistle?” he says more to himself than to the pup. The dog’s tail is wagging so hard he thinks it’ll fall off, the tiny little thing that it is.

He slides one of his gloves off, letting the dog sniff his hand before scratching him behind the ears. He was right, his fur is so soft… And his smile only gets bigger when the dog licks him again, not even minding all the drool.

But then he stiffens, slipping his fingers through the dog’s fur, noticing a red band of leather fastened around his neck. A collar? No way he’s someone’s pet. Then again, he does look a little too spoiled to be wandering the streets for food.

He curls his finger around the golden tag dangling from the buckle. No name, only an address he thinks he recognizes. Right on the edge of Yokohama, where the scent of sea salt is the strongest. Is it someone’s house? Apartment? Maybe a  shelter of some kind?

Chuuya steals another look at the dog, at those sweet brown eyes and twitching wet nose, trying his best to ignore the icy clench of his stomach. Maybe it’s for the best, just to bring him back. What’s he gonna do with a dog, anyway? Not like his job allows for much time raising a puppy, anyway.

Even one so cute as this little guy.

“Alright,” he sighs, scooping the pup in his arms, “let’s get you home.” He tries not to dwell on how warm the puppy is, or how softly he nestles his face in the crook of his shoulder.

And definitely not the way he can feel the pup drifting off to sleep as he starts down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Gentle puffs against his skin, his curly tail twitching against his wrist.

“Kotaro! There you are!”

The engraving on the pup’s collar has led him to a tiny little shop a few minutes from the port. A bit shabby with a torn sign on the top and windows that have definitely seen better days, and he’s about to turn tail (no pun intended) until he sees someone nearly fly out through the set of double doors.

“Kotaro!” Your voice is strained, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sweep the puppy into your arms. Clutching him as tight as you can, smoothing down the fur on his head as he stirs awake from his little nap. “I was worried sick… How did you escape again?! I could’ve sworn I locked the doors… You’re just lucky I came back downstairs when I did—or else you would’ve been out there all night long!”

The puppy only wags his tail, staring up at you with those silly eyes and sweet little “smile.” He knows it’s your weakness, how could you be angry at a face like that?

Oh, well. As long as he’s safe, you can’t really hold a grudge against him. Not when he’s back in your arms, safe and sound, and it’s just the two of you, just as it always should be.

It’s only when you hear someone clear their throat that you realize you’re actually not alone. You hastily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand—it’s a little difficult with a nearly-twenty-pound dog in your arms—and stare up at the man before you. Kotaro’s savior, your savior. And suddenly you feel a fresh wave of tears surge forth.

“Thank you for bringing him back! I’m so sorry if he’s caused you any trouble, I know he has a habit of bothering people when he sneaks out—I thought I’d kept him inside this time! He just has a thing for running away like the little troublemaker he is. He’s still young, hopefully he’ll grow out of it when he’s older, maybe he’ll mellow out and settle down, and then…”

You bite your tongue and avert your eyes. No need to scare off the stranger with your incessant rambling, especially after he was so nice to bring Kotaro back to you. But he only shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips as he tips his hat over his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, he didn’t cause too much trouble.” He lifts a hand, allowing Kotaro to sniff him before scratching the fur beneath his chin. “Keep an eye on him, though. You don’t want him getting lost out there, especially this time of night.”

“I know… I swear, he’s gonna give me gray hairs before the end of the year. The other dogs aren’t even this mischievous, I don’t know where he got it from!”

Wait, other dogs?

He glances over your shoulder, towards the dingy windows of the shop. Pet supplies and part-time shelter, the sign plastered on the glass says. And sure enough, the closer he looks at your outfit, he can see little bits of dog fur clinging to the fabric—some gray, some brown, some white, and then a hint of orange thanks to Kotaro.

Just how many dogs do you have in there?

“Anyway, I just wanna say I really appreciate you bringing him back here. You didn’t have to, I know you’re probably busy. Let me just run inside and get my wallet, I think I have some left over if you want—”

But he’s quick to shut you down with a shake of his head, even a wave of his hands for emphasis. No money, he’s already got plenty of that to spare. And besides, it doesn’t sit right with him, paying him for something that should come naturally to any decent person.

And he doesn’t want to sound mean, but judging from the shape of that little shop of yours, you look like you can use every last cent you have.

“Oh, if you say so… But still, why don’t I make it up to you sometime?”

An uneasy silence settles in the air between you; Chuuya blinks as he watches you shift your weight, partially hiding your face in Kotaro’s fur.

“…I mean, you don’t have to—I just wanna pay you back some way! Maybe I can treat you to lunch one of these days? I don’t have many days off, but I can make it work! Or maybe…do you have a dog of your own? I can give you a discount on anything in the shop!” You throw an arm out to the double doors behind you, still holding Kotaro to your chest. “Name it and it’s yours! I really don’t mind, it’s just me here anyway. Well, me and the dogs, all nine of us.”

Wait, nine, including yourself…

“You have eight of them?!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat at the look on Chuuya’s face. He reminds you of a child on Christmas morning, staring at the presents strewn around the glowing tree. He doesn’t seem one to enjoy the company of dogs, given his fancy attire and confident aura.

And yet, he still brought Kotaro back home, when he could’ve easily turned and walked the other way. You’ve learned not to judge a book by its cover, after all.

“Eight dogs, and hopefully more by the end of the year.” Your cheeks grow warm beneath his startling blue gaze. (His eyes are really pretty up close, aren’t they?) “…I can tell you all about them on our lunch date, if you’re interested.”

He blinks, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the dog in your arms. You’ve got guts, he’ll give you that; he can see it in the way you talk to him, the way you hold the puppy in your arms. Gentle as ever, but a fire brimming in your eyes. You love this dog, no doubt about it.

And you’ve got seven more inside? Do you love them all the same amount?

What breeds are they? How did you come to adopt so many dogs at once? Or did you adopt them at once, or sporadically over the years?

So many questions, and yet the night is crawling by. He shakes his head again, giving Kotaro one last scratch behind the ears, before meeting your gaze once more.

“Lunch sounds perfect, doll.”

Your lips pull up in a smile, and he can’t help but notice how it nearly matches the one on Kotaro’s face. Bright and eager, melting under the attention of the ones around you.

And yet your smile is infinitely prettier, and he finds himself thinking about it as he starts the familiar journey back home, as the night hours slowly tick by.

[lost-inthemeadow]

Till I have no choice but to do us part - Agathario

Summary: A 4 part rewrite of episode 9 of Agatha All Along because we deserved so much better than what we got

Features Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal

Chapter one: I stray not from the path, I hold Death's hand in mine

Word count: 2691

Alone in the woods, accompanied only by the corpses of the women who were once her family, Agatha Harkness trembled in the cold of the night.

After her coven had attempted to execute her—having nowhere else to go—she settled down under a tree by the river and tried her best for her sobs not to be too loud, afraid of any nearby animals hearing her.

She was supposed to be dead, gone, forgotten; her power—the one her coven was so scared of—had once again made her the villain. It was not her fault nobody ever bothered to teach her how to control it. From the moment she was born, her mother had been convinced that her existence was a mistake, a sin; all she knew she learned by herself, relying on books and ancient spells.

Now she was all alone, without a coven or anyone to care for her, and it was nobody's fault but her own. Still, under all the guilt, Agatha could not stop thinking about how good the other witches' magic had felt and how unsatiable her need for more was, being now more powerful than she ever had. It was a feeling that terrified her tremendously, but with the recent events, she swore not to let herself near another witch again.

As the sun rose once more, painting her dress with its yellow light, a nearby bush alerted her that she was no longer alone in the vast woods. Agatha sat down immediately, dreading the idea of fighting a wild animal, but instead, she saw a human figure emerge from the receding darkness. As the person approached, the sunlight lit them more and more, first revealing a long and beautiful green dress, then a pair of delicate hands, and then a face. The young witch had to shake her head, for the first thing she saw was a mere skull, but as she looked again and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she found herself admiring a beautiful lady, with eyes as bright as the moon that looked at her lit with curiosity.

Lady Death herself—the mysterious figure—was hesitant at first, not wanting to scare the young woman away. But there was a certain pull, a certain need in her chest that urged her to get close and investigate why this young witch was alone in the woods, surrounded by so many corpses.

"Hello, little one." Death spoke her first words directed at someone who still breathed in decades. Her voice was soft, and her lips curved into a smile. "Say, what reason could you have to be alone in these woods at this early hour?"

“I could ask you the same."

"I've come for them, of course," she said, glancing at Agatha's breathless companions.

"For them?"

“It's my job to take them to the other side," Lady Death concluded. "Are you responsible for this mess?"

Agatha nodded, unable to look the woman in the eye as she did, ashamed of her actions.

"I like it. It suits you," she said with a complicit smile. Agatha couldn't help but look back at her, expecting everything but the answer she had received.

Lady Death had lost her heartbeat centuries ago—when the duty of death was bestowed upon her—but the moment she saw Agatha's big blue eyes staring at her, the faint feeling of the blood-pumping vessel appeared in her chest again, making it impossible for her to stay any longer.

As Death walked towards the shadows again, ready to collect the souls of the coven, Agatha stood up, quickly cleaning the dirt off her dress.

"Wait!" she called out.

"Yes?" Lady Death stopped for her.

"Will I see you again?" Agatha also felt that same pull in her chest.

"Eventually, everyone will," was the last thing Death said before disappearing into the last bit of night.

After tending to the corpses, Agatha moved deeper into the forest, for the leaves and the dirt were now her home. Try as hard as she did, she could not stray too far from the clearing where she had met Lady Death, afraid she would miss her when she returned.

But a week went by, and she found herself alone every night, sitting under the same tree by the river, waiting for the bushes to alert her of the enchanting presence again. She understood then that Death would only come if she were needed.

Initially, she tried with a decaying owl she found while scavenging, but quickly realized the victim had to be freshly dead, so the next night she offered a skunk she had extinguished that afternoon. Both nights she perked up her ears and squinted her eyes, waiting for the figure to emerge from the bushes, but, once again, she never did.

That's when the young witch finally understood that, if she wanted to see Lady Death a second time, she'd have to offer a human for her to take. The idea brought chills down her spine, but still, she made her way to the nearest settlement and found herself a victim. A simple potion was all she needed, having lured the man to the forest with her beauty.

Under the tree, as the river sang its usual song—with the stiff corpse waiting—Agatha waited impatiently, almost wanting to scream to the moon to call Lady Death to her. It was not until the sun started its trip in the sky that the bushes again rustled, making Agatha shake like the cold of the night never had.

Lady Death was intrigued, wondering what kind of impossible favor the young witch would ask of her, so she approached again. "Is this for me?" she asked, pointing at the dead man.

"Yes. You are Death, are you not?".

"I am. What is it you wish in exchange for this gesture?" she asked.

"Only to see you, m'lady."

"To see me?"

"I figured you needed the company as much as I do."

Lady Death smiled faintly, getting even closer to Agatha. "Speak your name, girl," she ordered.

"Agatha. Agatha Harkness."

"Well, Agatha, I thank you for this offering," she said, removing her hands from her dark green cape. Lady Death offered an empty hand, from which sprouted a beautiful Bearded Iris. "Can I?" she asked, and when Agatha nodded, Death's gentle hands placed the blossom in her hair.

"You are a witch, too!" squealed the young woman.

Seeing Agatha's bright smile warmed Lady Death's newly placed heart, so she made a bed of flowers for her, filled with astounding shapes and colors. They sat down together as Death told the young witch about each and every kind—having never had the chance to discuss her love for them before—until the sun tinted the whole forest alight. By then, her neverending task called for her again, and she disappeared into the bushes like she had that first night. This time, Agatha did not dare to ask if they would meet again, for she would make sure they would.

Every day she would slip into the town at dusk, determined to find a new gift for Death. First, it was the man who dared put his hands on his wife, the woman who tried to poison her daughter, and the two siblings who benefited from the poor's ingenuity. But then she took the old lady who sat alone in her house, the town's widow, and the farmer with only his crops to keep him company. With each kill, Agatha became increasingly enchanted with the art of taking lives, and her daily hunts became not only a treat for Death, but for her as well. Every night Lady Death would come to collect her gifts—each time earlier than the one before—and they would spend their time together laying in a freshly made bed of flowers by the river, where they would talk each other's ears off for hours. They bonded over their wrongdoings and deepest desires, enjoying the opportunity to be fully themselves in each other's company. Agatha told her all about her coven, her awful mother, and that surprisingly good feeling she got every time she claimed a life. Death would talk about her victims, the way she enjoyed staying for a little while when a widow wailed at the corpse of her husband, and the flowers she loved creating.

Lady Death grew fond of Agatha's curiosity, tending her queries with detail and care. She adored looking at the stars while letting the young witch into her secrets, appreciating the attentiveness she was given in return.

"Do you take animals?"

"They don't need it. Only humans have trouble crossing."

"Can you bring people back to life?"

"No. My job is the exact opposite."

"But you can create life," said Agatha, signalling at the flowers around them.

"I can, but only for you," Death replied, causing Agatha's cheeks to burn.

It was not until seven sunsets later that Agatha had been brave enough to ask for Lady Death's name.

"I don't suppose I was ever given one," replied the green witch with a furrowed brow.

"Whatever do you mean? Everyone has a name!"

"I must be the exception. I've had many nicknames, but never a name of my own."

"Well, we cannot allow that to be."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Why, we find you a name, of course."

And so she did. Agatha named her companion after the river that sang its symphony for them every night. From that moment on, Lady Death was not defined only by her duty. She was now Rio Vidal. She was someone. She belonged to someone.

That night, after Agatha made the name official by carving their initials in the tree they both so loved, Rio decided it was time to show herself, to reveal the form she feared Agatha would despise. Lit by only the moonlight, the skull Agatha thought was just her eyes tricking her that first night was in front of her again. Even without skin or muscle, the young witch could see Rio was nervous, so she took the time to trace every bit of bone with her fingers with the utmost care, offering a bright smile.

"Beautiful," Agatha said, taking Rio's face into both hands. Rio went back to her human form just in time for Agatha to join their lips together in a kiss that felt a thousand times better than taking a life ever would. The river beside their flower bed sang its song as they both gave in to each other, and the forest became the first witness of the time Death fell in love with a mortal.

Though the corpses were no longer needed, Agatha still took a life for her lover each day. Eventually, she had to move to a different settlement to find her victims, for her usual one had run dry. And find new victims she did, as a coven of seven witches dwelled near the next settlement she wanted to torment. She remembered her promise not to get near another sister in the craft again but was still overjoyed when she told Rio how the screams of the youngest member filled the air of the autumn afternoon as she took her power for herself.

“Does power feel as good as it looks on you, my love?" asked Rio, running her finger up and down Agatha's bare arm.

"It feels amazing," replied Agatha, her eyes closed as she enjoyed her lover's touch.

"Tell me more about this coven you found. Do they know it was you that took their sister?"

"They do not. She had been sent to gather in the forest, they did not see me take her."

"In that case, we will take their power for you, tomorrow after dawn."

"Will you stay the whole night this time?" asked the young witch, hope mixed with moonlight lighting her eyes.

"Not only this time. My duty is important, but I have no home besides your arms."

"We will have each other. We will be okay," replied Agatha.

The following morning—hands joined—they made the trek down their beloved river—stopping every few minutes so Agatha could pick the flowers Rio grew for her—until they found the witches' encampment. Before splitting up, Rio put all the blossoms together in a beautiful crown that Agatha made sure to wear, then she watched as her lover ran to the other witches—panting and huffing—to start with her deceivement. As the witches inquired about the reason for her troubled state, she apprised them about her coven having been murdered right in front of her eyes by a horde of angry townspeople, and her miraculous escape. The fellow craft practitioners clothed and fed her, offering her all their empathy and comfort.

Rio appeared after Agatha finished her broth, bony form deployed, and all the witches fell to their knees at the sight of her. They dared not look into her eyes and instead rested their foreheads on the dirt, so Agatha followed their lead.

"Fear not, for I have come not to take, but to notify," Rio announced. "Your youngest sister, with hair like corn and skin like syrup, is now with me. Her fret for her coven was so strong that I had no alternative but to come and bear the news to you."

She allowed them a few seconds of shock before she attempted to leave.

"Oh, almighty lady," called the eldest member, not daring to remove her face from the soil. "Is there anything we can offer in exchange for her life? Is there any deal you will take to bring our sister back where she belongs?"

"What is done is done. She is now mine," stated Rio.

"Please, ma'am. We will do anything."

"Look at me," Rio ordered, and all six witches obeyed. "The only way to bring your sister back is to trade her life for another. The balance must be maintained," she stated, her head tilted slightly.

The ruse worked perfectly, for all six of them took only a few seconds of exchanged looks before deciding that the life of the new, stray witch that had only just arrived mattered the least among them, and they all blasted Agatha simultaneously. The young witch received their magic with open arms, ensuring to take every last bit of it.

As their bodies decayed and their magic was drained, Rio's cackle filled the forest, enjoying the view as much as Agatha enjoyed the magic. "Yes, my love! Take it all!" she screamed with a malicious grin.

When Agatha's knees gave out, weak from the blast, Rio was there to catch her. The young witch's hands trembled, but her lips were curved in the biggest smile.

"How did you like that?" asked Agatha.

"I've never seen anything better," Rio replied, lost in the trance of her lover's beauty.

"Take care of this mess," Agatha ordered. Rio obeyed instantly, leaving to guide the witches to the other side.

From then on, Agatha and Rio spent their days hunting for witches to trick, finding new ways to give in to their lust, and loving each other like no other couple in history ever had. It was not every day they were together, for Rio's duty called for her every few days, but they cherished and made use of every second in which they were.

When autumn came to an end and the weather started to cool—despite witches usually living in open settlements—Rio grew the biggest willows, and with them, shaping them to her will, she built a crooked cabin for the two to spend the winter in. However, when the snow melted and spring came, they could not part from it. Death and love danced in harmony as they turned the place into their home, making it a sanctuary for all things they held dear. Unable to rip herself from her lover's embrace, Rio stayed longer each time, even if it meant more days absent, and she gifted Agatha the most beautiful garden to tend to while she was away.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode six - Bully in the Alley

Masterlist

Jack Dawkins x fem reader

This is a long one

"Do you think he'll like it? I should have packed more macaroons. Rainsford loves macaroons." Fanny chatted away as the three of you walked towards the stairs. You stop when you see the head nurse.

" Nurse Baggett, is Dr. Dawkins here?" You ask.

" On a Friday night? He's paying a house call on the Cat and Bagpipes." She laughs. Disappointed you turn back to your sisters who were already making their way up the stairs.

"Should I give Sneed a peek? What would you say to that?" Fanny said.

"Nothing really. Sneed isn't suited for you. His interest in us is purely political. He just wants to marry a governor's daughter and secure Head Surgeon. And he's already proposed to me." Belle rambled.

"Oh." Fanny stops walking.

"Fanny, he would've married any member of the family, including Father or the dog." Belle says.

"Belle, there is no need to be turt. Fanny, Sneed is not for you. He would not be attentive enough for you." You try to comfort her.

" So, when is your happy day?" She spits her words at Belle.

"The happy day was when I declined him." She replied.

"I should just fill my pocket with stones and walk into the sea." Fanny said.

"Sea's that way." Belle pointed.

"Belle, will you both stop this, now." You demand.

"So, just to clarify. Sneed's still available, then?" Fanny asks finally.

"For now." Belle agrees. The three of you walk into his private room. Fanny quickly delves into unpacking her basket of goodies.

"We've also got coconut macaroons, fruitcake, jam drops. Ooh, and this is pepper jelly. I made it myself to help with your recovery."

"How lovely. Lady Belle, are you well?" Sneed asks her, attempting to ignore Fanny.

"But it's quite peppery." Fanny continues.

"Better than someone who fought a pointless duel." They continued the back and fourth between the three of them. Your attention was held by the window you could hardly see through.

"Quickly. This way. Come on, quickly." You hear Hetty shouting. A Bell rings below. Running out of the room you see people clamouring all around.

"Cold compress on her. Splint that. Some doctors would be nice!" You see Hetty shouting. Jack stumbles in with a man's arm around his shoulders.

" Dr. Dawkins." You rush up to him.

" Lady y/n. Can you take him to the ward?" He hands the man over to you draping his arm over your shoulder.

"Are you even sober?" You ask.

"Three sheets to the wind. One sheet better than Prof usually is." He waves his arms. "Get your sister. I need her in the ward. Aputi, bring him in here." Jack walks away from you.

In the swirl of the chaos you do your best to help the nurses with bandaging and comforting the wounded people of Port Victory. Morning rose up without anyone really noticing. Seeing Jack standing beside the bed of one man you walked up to him.

"There's nothing more we could have done. Not with bleeding like that." He lets out a shaky breath, "Hetty, have you eaten anything at all?" He asks the nurse that looks set to fall down.

" No time." She replies.

Heavy footsteps stomp through the halls and you see your sister rushing up to Gaines.

" Captain Gaines, I will be speaking to my father!" She growls.

" Have you come to finish them off? Blinded in one eye, a fractured skull, and a ruptured femoral artery!" Jack's grits his teeth.

"All the results of resisting lawful execution of a warrant. And that's young Alfie Wilderkins if I'm not mistaken. This is a very good day indeed." Gaines grins and it churns your stomach.

" I want the men responsible court-martialled." You say.

"Well, that would be me. You'll need to tell the Governor his right hand is a criminal."

"Yes. That is a very good idea." You narrow your eyes at him.

" Arrest them. They're accomplices. All right. You, come with me." Gaines shouts and grabs one of the patients.

"They need medical care. I can't let you take these patients." You say putting your hands up across the ward door.

" They were never patients, Lady y/n. They're my prisoners. Stand aside." He moves close enough to you that you can smell the stink of his aftershave, "Your father indulges you. If you were my daughter..."

"I'd run away. Like your wife." You sneer at him. Gaines steps forward raising his hand ready to slap you but Jack catches him, wrenching him backward.

" Oi! Doc, you're needed over here." Fagin calls from the other side of the room. He drops Gaines' hand.

" Pity you didn't strike me, Dawkins." He growls at Jack before marching away.

"father can stop this!" You call to Belle.

"Where do you think I'm going?" She shouts back almost running from the hospital. You turn back to Jack.

"Are you alright?" He asks, you nod your head allowing him to take your hand.

"What do we do?" You ask.

"you've been here all night, go home and get some rest. Hetty you too. Neither of you are any good if you get sick as well." Hetty tries to protest but he shakes his head to her, "Go on, we'll be okay, come back later."

*_*_*_*

"Hold fire!" The Governor shouts as Belle wakes him by dropping. Heavy book onto the desk.

"Gaines has gone mad. People have lost their lives." Your sister tells him.

" No, surely not. I counselled moderation." He rebutes.

"Have you seen what's going on out there?" She asks.

"No, but... Oh, my word, that's lovely." He says taking a sip of congac.

" The hospital is overrun. Beaten by Gaines' men." She interrupts him.

"And I'm sorry you had to see that. The hospital really is no place for a lady. But I bear good news, Excellency." Gaines brushes past Belle. "Your operation has flushed out the notorious Kit Wilderkins."

" Oh, Gaines, that is wonderful news."your father chuckles.

" You ordered this, Father?" You ask storming into the room"

"Gaines is firm, darling, but there's a reason he kept our men alive in Africa."

"No, but he's maiming people. He's killing them." You protest.

" All regrettable incidents. Some were resisting arrest and attacking your men, Governor. I shall pray for their souls. Tell me, does your friend, Dr. Dawkins, ever cause a patient pain?" Gaines turns to you.

" Of course, in trying to help to... " You reply.

"Cure. Yes. And does Dr. Dawkins ever accidentally kill any of these patients?"

" Rarely." Belle interjects.

"And I'm sure he mourns it, as I do. You see, a colony is very much like a body..."

" Yes, I've read Hobbes." You cut him off.

"Then you will know that sometimes we must hurt in order to heal."

"A young man bled to death in the hospital overnight. What of his family?" You say.

"Ah, yes. Very sad. Alfie Wilderkins, only eighteen. Kit Wilderkins was his father. Together they held up the Murchings Bank stage coach last month, and killed three people. Corporal Hartmouth was begging for mercy when they shot him. Hartmouth had two dear little children, Rosie and William." Gaines pretended to feel remorse as he sat in a chair.

"Yes. Look, it's one thing to lose a man in battle, but to crime? It's hard to explain to the widow." The governor says.

"You see, my ladies, sometimes we need to cut a rotten part of the body politic in order to cure the whole." He speaks to you both.

"I know what part of the body politic I'd be removing." Belle bites back.

" Okay, thank you, Captain Gaines." The Governor dismisses his Captain before taking your and Belle's hands in his.

"Darlings... Darlings, I know you disapprove of Gaines and his methods. But I've been asked to turn a penal colony into a society. And I need men like him to make a prison into something better. Now, I'm not asking you to accept everything I do, but I am asking you both to support me and this family." He says.

"we will go back to the hospital and help." Belle says.

"No, we need to rest. Father, you should, perhaps put down your congac and take a good she's look at the people you surround yourself with. Come sister." You take her hand and lead her to the stairs.

"You're giving up?" She asks.

"No, Belle, Jack said we needed to sleep to rest, he sent Hetty away as well. He wants us at our best to help." You explain.

"And what will you do? Hold a few hands and get in the way?" She spat out the words.

You hold onto the emotions that threaten to spill out of your eyes.

*_*_*_*

"Belle, I may not be as smart as you are when it comes to medicine, but I am doing my best."

"You could be doing so much more, instead of wasting all your energy on a boy."

You push past her and storm up to your bedroom.

Three hours later you found yourself unable to sleep so you redressed in a simple cotton outfit, forgoing the hooped crinoline and opting for a smaller petticoat. You sneak back down stairs to the carriage that waited for you at the back of the house. Belle was already sat inside.

"took your time." She smiled. You say nothing, knocking on the carriage to signal the driver. Much to Belle's dismay you give her the cold shoulder all the way to the hospital. Choosing to keep your eyes on the trees going past.

She chased after you into the building when you arrived at the hospital.

"y/n please, I'm sorry." She calls after you. You ignore her finding Jack.

"What'd your father say? When's he going to stop this?" He asks you.

" Yes, I have spoken to my father. There are two sides to this. It's not as clear as..." you say walking through the corridors.

"He's dead. How much clearer could it be?" He almost shouts at you.

You stop and look at him for a moment, "Right, if you're to be like that, Jack..."

"I cannot believe you would give that man's story credence." He said. You turned once more marching god knows where as you spoke.

"I don't give a fig about Gaines, but I do trust my father's word on this."

"You can't agree with their methods?" He asked.

"Obviously not." You answered

" That boy bled to death in front of us."

"I know but, he was a bushranger, who killed one of Father's men."

"So they say."

" He's my father. He's many things, but he's not a liar. He's trying to bring peace to a colony you have to admit is out of control." You stomped through a closed door.

"Did you mean to walk into a cupboard?" Jack almost laughs.

" Obviously not!" You bit your lower lip to keep your emotions from bubbling over. "Gosh. You are incredibly irritating."

"So are you."

"'Cause you won't listen to anyone else's point of view. All I'm saying is it is not clear-cut."

"Look, you either want to be a help here, someone who cares for everybody, no matter how spotty their soul may be, or you are "milady," who gives six of the best to the peasants when we get uppity." He jibs you.

" Uppity? I know you had your past indiscretions, but these were bushrangers who killed three men, one a father." You reply.

" Some people need to thieve in order to eat." Jack sighs.

"And that can lead to death, too." It was getting harder to hold back your tears.

"Have you ever seen anybody dead on the streets from hunger?"

"No!" You agree.

"Have you ever paid for anything you've eaten? Or worn, or lived in?"

"That's a false syllogism." You say turning back toward the cupboard door. Jack runs up behind you.

"Whatever that is, it is not. If you can't see what is happening here, y/n, then you and I have big problems. This puts a wall between us." His arm is across You holding the door shut.

" You climbed it fine when you kissed me in the surgery." You say, a tear escaping down your face. Jack sighs, he knows he has pushed you too far. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"let me go, I should, I wish to leave." You whisper.

"Y/n-"

"I wish to leave."

You do not let any tears fall from your eyes until you reached your bedroom. Where you fling yourself upon your bed and cry until exhausted you fall asleep

*_*_*_*

The sound of Fagin's voice wakes you some time later and you tiptoe along behind him. With your arms crossed you wait at the door as he comes shuffling out of your father's office with a large Hessian bag.

"Stealing like a common thief again?" You say when he spots you.

"Yes, well only what was stolen from us in the first place." He raises his hands towards you in submission.

"Fine, take the lot. I no longer care."

"actually we could do with your help you know. Doc is getting your sister for an operation but you, you might be exactly what we need." His smile unnerved and intrigued you.

"Okay, take me there." You agree.

Belle and Dawkins come down the stairs discussing the procedure they are about to do. You pay them no mind as you step into the carriage.

"you're coming?" Jack asks hopeful.

"To help the people, not you." You say turning yourself away from them.

"Sorry about the pissing, Fagin, I just couldn't... Whoa! Hello, Your Majesty." Flashbang spoke when he saw you and Belle.

"Hello." You reply.

"Is this a criminal conspiracy?" Belle asks

"In a manner of speakin', yes."

"If you're going to the hospital, Belle, I'm coming to see Sneedy." Fanny pushes past Flashbang to get in beside Belle, forcing Jack to sit beside you. Fagin plonks himself on the luggage tray at the back and Flashbang hangs onto the side.

Jack glances at you occasionally, you are sure he wants to talk to you but you keep your eyes turned away only replying to Fanny.

At the hospital you follow them all inside. It's agreed that you'll go to the prof and distract him whilst the others got Red's baby out safely. When you were satisfied that he was deep enough into the second bottle you went up to Red's room. Fagin taking your place. Jack stands at the door.

"How is it going?" You ask keeping a distance from the doctor.

"Well I think, I'm not allowed in." He replies.

"Belle is operating alone?"

"she is more than capable."

"Of course she is, Belle would run rings around any trained man." You sit down beside Tim. "Red is strong, she'll be alright." You comfort him.

Jack watches you talk with the man, how he seems instantly at ease with you. All the people in Port Victory did. You held an air of kindness that spread out to those you spoke to. He had to admit to himself that having you here, speaking with the patients and holding their hands eased them. It made the wards feel lighter, as if death was not hanging over their heads. Taking in a long breath Jack turned back to his work opening the door just enough to call in.

" Nearly... I have it now." Belle says from.inside.

"How is it in there? Do you have the head yet?" He called.

"Now, pull up and out." Jack guides her.

" Just one more cut.* Hetty says as they clamp the umbilical chord, " She's out. Come on, Belle."

" Please breathe." Belle encourages the baby with a rub to its chest. The new born cries and everyone sighs with relief.

" Now stitch her, fascia first." Jack reminds her. "Is Red all right?" Tim pushing his way into the room.

"She's breathing steady, Tim." Belle reassures him, handing the now swaddled infant. With them all in the room you chose to stay out, waiting for Gaines to appear.

They managed to sneak the woman and the baby out of the room and secret her away in Jack's room.

Belle is cleaning away her equipment when Jack walks back in.

"We did it. Hetty and I, we kept them both alive." She smiles.

" In time for your father to hang her." Jack snaps back. Belle is about to argue when the door opens and Aputi and Flash bring a large basket into the room. You follow them in as they place the covered body on the bed.

"Well done."

"No! You're body snatching!" Belle rrmarks.

"Pretty standard in our line of work." Jack comments.

" You can't be serious."

"Belle,This is the only way to save her." You say.

" Clearly pregnant. Very good." Jack says before pulling the sheet back, "Clearly not pregnant. This a man." He chastises them.

" Big Kit's all we had in the deadhouse, Dr. Jack." Aputi explained as they left the room.

"This is madness! It can't work! And it's a capital offence!" Belle snapped

" So is killing a mother before she's even put her own child to her breast." You snap back.

"So, what's more important, milady?"

You are the first to hear Gaines approaching and slip out of the room. Jack follows you closing the door behind him.

"Captain," you pretend to feel sadness. "I fear the mother and baby died on the table. How does one bear this sort of loss, Captain?" You put a hand on his chest, keeping him from moving further. "I have never seen it, but perhaps you were right, darkness cannot birth light I suppose." You say. He nods.

"Yes, lady y/n, it is awful when the innocent are tard by the guilty." He pushes your hand away and attempts to step past you.

"You can't go in. Her body's undressed. For shame. And you, a Godly man. Have you no decency?" You pour every bit of heartache you had into the words.

"I need to see the body." He tells you.

" What are you going to do, Captain? Hang her corpse?" You ask.

" Have the Professor bring me the death certificate." The Captain hisses.

"Dr. Dawkins can sign it."

"No! I would find it much more reliable if the Professor signs it." He walks away. Turning yourself round to Jack you look up at him.

"Thank you." He says.

"I didn't do it for you." You drop your eyes to the ground.

"y/n, I-" you shake your head, "I'll see to the patient." He lets you walk away from him, wishing he hadn't.

Knocking on the door you step into the room, Red sat on the small bed by the window.

"How are you?" You ask.

"Better now. You know you are nothing like the rest of your family. There's a little crime in you." Red said with a chuckle, "would you like to hold her?"

You nod and come forward, sitting on the end of the bed. You take the bundle into your arms and rock her.

"She's beautiful." You say a wide smile on your face.

"it's suits you." Tim states.

"What is it, why didn't you follow society? Why ain't you married?" Red asked.

"oh, I.... I'm not well. I wouldn't make a man a widower or a child and orphan." You reply, keeping your eyes on the sleeping baby.

"Sorry." Red whispered. Not long after Fagin arrived and then Jack. At first you wanted to leave but you stayed at Tim's request. Jack poured you all a small glass of Fagin's stolen liqueur.

When at last Belle was done with her cleaning she came up to find you. Not wanting to speak to her you simply walked alongside to the carriage.

At home again you sat in your bed the blankets over knees when Belle and Fanny came giggling into her room. Belle climbed into the bed beside you and Fanny dropped her head to your lap.

"I shared my first kiss." She said looking UK at you.

"With Sneed?" You asked.

" And did you enjoy it?" Belle cuddled closer. "Mixed. At first, it was lovely. But then I think I hurt him rather badly. He was quite angry, actually." She screwed up her face.

"Someone'll sweep you off your feet when you least expect it in the most inconvenient of moments." You say brushing back her hair and stroking her face with the back of your hand.

" I had a thought." She said, flipping herself onto her stomach, "Considering your health, perhaps you and Dr. Dawkins could have a long, happily unconsummated love affair until he walks off, desolate, into the windswept moors..." she all but sings her fantasy, you feel a pang of gult.

"We don't have moors here." Belle reminded her.

"But yes, that is a nice thought." You agree. Your sisters cuddle into you and you all giggle over the day until your mother commands you all to bed.

*_*_*_*_*

Fagin and Dawkins sat at a table in the tavern, Rotty poured them both a drink I to the metal tankards.

"So, our old Cheekybones did well." Fagin grins. "Yeah. She did, didn't she?"

"And her sister, the older one, she is a boone, still, it's not really their world, is it? And you've got to remember, Dodge, theirs isn't yours." He reminded the younger man. Jack played with his cup and turned to the window. His heart leaps in his chest when he sees the nicest sight he had seen in days. Without saying a word to his companion, Jack walked outside.

"Milady. I must warn you I am a little bit drunk. In fact, I am approaching strutting pigeon."

You smile from below your cape, dropping the hood down. Reaching out you take the cup from his hand and swallow down the liquid.

" So am I, now." You smile, "The crime, it's not just for survival. You actually love it." You say.

"The worst parts of me do." Jack admits.

"well, I cannot say I did not enjoy getting one over on Gaines." You admit. Jack laughs.

" It's hopeless, isn't it?" You take a step toward him.

"Oh, yes. We are completely unsuited." He agrees matching your movement.

"We should really never see each other socially." You offer up words you don't believe.

"No, that wouldn't be right." He said moving close enough to slide his hand around your waist. Crashing his lips to yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest. You spin him round so his back hits the wall.

" Holy hell, we're in trouble." You whisper.

"So much trouble." Jack he replies placing his lips to yours and you feel all your resolve disappearing.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." Jack speaks between kisses.

Everything had changed in that few seconds. Your life would never be the same.

Episode seven

@fandomfan-102

[angstea]

Auctober 2024 Masterlist

Day 1: Autism Plus

i'm trapped in my tiny human brain (and it's killing me) [FNAF Movie]

Day 2: Infinity

echoing where my ghosts all used to be [Doctor Who]

Day 3: AuDHD

it hurts me just to think and i don't do pain [Good Omens]

Day 4: Music

speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing [Doctor Who]

Day 5: Verbose

i could barely speak (i could only hum a tune) [FNAF Movie]

Day 6: Individuals

a brand new soul and a new set of clothes [Doctor Who]

Day 7: Nueroscope

i can try but i can't hide it from you [Doctor Who/Torchwood]

Day 8: Non-Speaking

sought and safe behind a wing [Doctor Who]

Day 9: Community

it's getting cold down here underneath the weather [FNAF Movie]

Day 10: Self Advocacy

fingers covered in thorns [Doctor Who]

Day 11: Unlearning Ableism

i can't fight it splitting my mind in two [Doctor Who/Torchwood]

Day 12: Differently Wired

going home [Torchwood]

Day 13: Vivid Imaginations

shadows tangle like a vine [Doctor Who]

Day 14: Hyperfixations

christmas time is buzzing in my skull [The Nightmare Before Christmas]

Day 15: Pebbling

baby, could you play along with me [FNAF Movie]

Day 16: Autistic Pride

save your convictions, they never will do [Ghostbusters]

Day 17: Repetition

sometimes i get nervous when i see an open door [Doctor Who]

Day 18: Self Regulating

your words so bitter (but i'll do better) [FNAF Movie]

Day 19: Comfort Items

how do i begin when the roof is ever changing? [FNAF]

Day 20: Executive Dysfunction

Not posted due to the fact I wasn't happy with it

Day 21: Queer

you can hold my hand when no one's home [Doctor Who/Torchwood]

Day 22: Disabled

i'll make a cup of coffee for your head [FNAF Movie]

Day 23: Synesthesia

stubborn hearted blue [Doctor Who/Torchwood]

Day 24: Genetic

i'm an expert just like you [Ghostbusters]

Day 25: Pets

Posted exclusively on AO3

Day 26: Fidgeting

crawl into bed (just bundle up and cry) [Doctor Who/Torchwood]

Day 27: Stimming

make me behave like an animal [Doctor Who]

Day 28: Safe Foods

i need to run, but i can't get out of bed for anyone [BBC Ghosts]

Day 29: Empathy

you've got a bleeding heart [Doctor Who]

Day 30: Accommodations

all my worthless rage [Doctor Who/Torchwood]

Day 31: Sensory Euphoria

i can't control thoughts of things i need [Doctor Who]

[secondtolastfr]

Predictions for the rest of the festival genes

Starfall - I have a couple ideas- obviously there's a meteor shower / falling star type thing they could do. The only issue would be making it better than Sparkle. They could also do some floaty rune-type stuff, but again, it would need to be different than just Runes. I'm rooting for the former, personally.

Obviously, Aethers will get Starfall, but for the second breed it could go to pretty much any of them. I'm betting on Aberrations, Undertides, or Veilspuns.

Rot (Or whatever they end up calling it) - This one is really hard to predict, mostly because of FR's rules on gore and the like. If the Plaguebringer is anything to go off of, I would say maybe a skull mask and sharp, uneven ridges down the back.

Aberrations will of course get it, and I'm betting on Sandsurges getting it too (and maybe Veilspuns and Gaolers).

Rockbreaker - If I had to guess, it'll be a lot of rocks and maybe gems, probably on the feet of the dragon (and maybe the crown? I'm honestly not sure, I'm basing everything off of the Earthshaker). Like with Starfall and Runes/Sparkle, it'll been to be better than just Gembond- which shouldn't be too hard, haha.

Since the Earth ancient won't be out for a while, I'm guessing Sandsurges and Gaolers will get Rockbreaker.

Crystalline - My guess will be icicles on the wings, a crown of ice and spines of ice leading down to the tip of the dragon's tail, kind of like what the Icewarden has going on:

The only other thing I can think of would be swirling snowflakes, but I don't know how well that would go over.

Gaolers will of course get it- maybe Aethers, or Veilspuns? Not sure.

Trickmurk - I have two ideas here: 1) Pooling shadows beneath the dragon (like with Shadowbinder), and 2) Floating, drifting, abstract shadows (like the Shadow aura). I have high hopes for this one, haha.

Veilspuns, of course, will get the gene. But I could see it going to any other breed, if it's anything like I'm predicting.

Mistral - I've heard people in Wind hope that their gene isn't generic clouds, but I honestly don't know what else the gene would be. I imagine the cloud placement would resemble the Windsinger:

I bet Aethers will get the gene, and Undertides too because they're noodles like the Windsinger.

Wavecrest - Again, looking at the Tidelord, I'm guessing lots of extra fins, bubbles at the feet (and/or maw), and general water-y things.

Besides Undertides, I could see Sandsurges getting it because of how shark-like they are.

Greenskeeper - There are a few options here. Vines, coming down the dragon's back. A small tree (or perhaps a bush), growing out of the dragon's back. Small plants coming out of the ground at the dragon's feet. There's a lot of ideas for execution.

Aequorin mentioned that the breed is "anticipated for late 2023," so hopefully the Nature ancient will be released by then. Like my Trickmurk prediction, I could see it going to any of the other ancients, depending on how it's executed.

Another thing I'm wondering: When we get the Light/Wind/Earth ancients, will they be able to get their elemental fest genes? I know that's way, way into the future, but I wonder how they'll go about that.

[kudzuoath]

Sundown Vows

In some ways, being kidnapped by mindflayers has been the best thing to ever happen to Temperance Crier. For the first time in more than a decade she has people to depend upon. But even being plucked from her own execution and dropped into a fight for the free will of Faerun cannot prevent the past from catching up to her at last.

*this is chapter one of a larger fic posted to ao3. Future chapters are probably not being posted to tumblr.

-----

Vengeful outrage arced through her before she was even fully awake.

Temperance was on her knees and clawing at the air in front of her until she recognized the sun on her face and the sensation of sand beneath her. The ever present whispers faded to a dull roar in the back of her mind. Like the tide rolling in and out of the harbor back in Neverwinter.

She swallowed hard and waited for the white sparks to clear from her vision. Grounding herself by touch and scent to the world around her.

Water, she thought. Something… green and astringent – mergrass? Good for potions of mind reading. Heightened mental awareness even from suspensions.

Heat, near her left hand.

She searched it out – and flinched back when it burned her. That was – yes, the sword, right? There was a vague impression left to her of a cambion with a flaming greatsword. And it was the same greatsword that she saw when her eyes cleared. It lay in a warped cradle of glass, fire licking merrily over its abstract creation.

Temperance set her hand on the hilt, wondering how in all the hells she was meant to carry the damned thing out of battle – only for the sword to bite her. Well – something sharp erupted under her palm. The weapon tasted her blood. And perhaps she was just infernal enough, for the flames calmed, and the teeth retreated.

“At least I didn’t wake unarmed,” she rasped to herself, a grim smile pulling at the crust of dried blood caking the side of her face. Terrible.

Heart in her throat, she stood, taking in the world around her. There was sand, yes. The water she’d smelled, festooned with greenery – mergrass included – and sandstone cliffs rising up around her. Some sort of canyon then?

She took a few careful steps into the water, trying to peer around the massive fleshy tentacle of the ship that had stolen her.

And saved me.

What grim luck indeed.

Absently, she harvested the mergrass. Centering herself with the sharp scent of broken fronds, and the fuzzy texture of the purple blooms nestled within the stalks. There were a few likely boulders farther out in the water. She could maybe scale them and get a better lay of the land. But if she was going into deep water she’d need to shed her armor if she didn’t want to drown herself…

Her heart calmed.

Then the tadpole squirmed to life behind her left eye, shattering her fragile peace. Temperance’s hands tightened around the mergrass until it cut at her already much scarred palms, pulverizing her meager bounty and bleeding it.

She felt sick, remembering the way the Mindflayer clamped psionic fingers around her skull and squeezed… wrenching her head to the side as everything inside her shrieked in outrage.

A gods damned mindflayer.

She’d heard of them, but only just. It was enough to make a woman laughing mad. How much more could fit inside her at this point?

Of course the real question is which of my guests are going to win, she thought, morbidly amused.

“My coin is on the Phylactery,” she muttered. Trying to put the horrible moment aside. To avoid thinking about why her eye was burning.

So she waded back onto the beach and took a look at the tentacles to either side boxing her in. They were disturbingly moist and not because of the water. It reminded her of a dead whale that had washed up in Neverwinter’s harbor a lifetime ago.

Gods, she didn’t want to imagine the stink of the ship could rot. And even though it was more object than adversary she really didn’t want to shed any layers around it.

So, if she wasn't going into the drink…

“One step. Then another. Come on.”

The flesh of the ship pulsed at her. Mockingly.

Her palms itched with disgust. She didn’t want to touch the thing. But as it was several times the size of her, she really had no choice. She was going to have to climb it.

“Not the worst thing you’ve done in the last ten years, Temp, Hop to.”

She flexed her fingers, bounced up and down on the balls of her feet a few times – then took a running leap at the wreckage. Hoping to clear as much of it as possible. But of course that would be too bloody lucky wouldn’t it? Her foot went right through the center of one of the suckers and the thing latched on. Warm and wet, like a horrible toothless mouth.

Gagging she wrenched her foot free. Only for the suckers she’d caught with her hands to turn and try to curl around them. She sliced at them with involuntary viciousness, claws digging in deep as she scrambled up and over the thing. Temperance didn’t even try to climb down the other side – simply leapt and hit the sand below with a teeth rattling thump.

Skin crawling, she looked over her shoulder and watched the tentacle shudder and begin to contract.

“I hate you,” she told it flatly.

Naturally, it didn’t much care about the hatred of a lone tiefling. But she felt a little better for saying it. And might have felt better still if she’d had the luxury of hacking at the thing with her new greatsword for a few minutes.

But there was no time to waste. Even though there was also no clear path forward.

The ravaged beach stretched out before her, sand gone to glass in places from the heat of the fires the wreck had started. And there were corpses too. One, just a few feet in front of her mangled and salted and face down in the water.

Though she was years and horrors away from her life in the temple, she paused above it, and said a prayer. Then Temperance went through the dead man’s belongings. A few gold, and a wine bottle, of all things. She pocketed both, and was lucky enough to find a pack near the next body. Not much of use besides the fishing line but a place to store things was a boon.

The third body was breathing. And familiar.

The woman from the pod. Shadowheart. Laid out on her back with her braid covering her eyes like a blindfold. Under one hand, the spiked box covered in unknown runes.

Just as before, when Temperance laid eyes on the woman a pale gold four pointed star painted itself over her torso.

Pale was good. Pale she could ignore. Unlike the sunburst that had turned the cambion on the ship into a vaguely person shaped gout of flame and burned all the will to resist and memory out of her.

(Her fingers itched nonetheless. The whispers in her ear grew louder. She could almost understand what they said.

She ignored them. Painting over the fire with everything she knew about balsam.)

The cleric remained unconscious in the sand. The only sign of life the regular movement of her shoulders signifying breath.

First thing first. Temperance carefully moved the woman’s braid out of her face, and set her fingertips at the cleric’s temple. Reaching for that thread of divine fire that she’d carried with her for the past thirteen years. For the part of it that cauterized, that healed.

Nothing. The powers granted by her oath slithered just beyond where she could fathom. Retreating along with the whispers. And the pale stars. The worm wriggled, making her head throb. It was impossible of course, yet somehow she imagined the thing was smug.

Your doing? She thought at it, fury simmering. Just you wait.

With her own healing magic beyond her, the cleric would simply have to heal herself if she needed it. So Temperance took the half-elf by the shoulders and shook her.

Shadowheart woke with a gasp, pushing up to her feet and staggering a few feet back. Her green eyes darted wildly around her before at last settling on the one who’d woken her.

Temperance waggled her fingers at her with a bland expression on her face, still crouched. “Good morning.”

“You’re alive –” Shadowheart said, disbelief painted across her face. “I’m alive. How is this possible?”

Temperance pushed to her feet. Dryly she said, “Divine intervention perhaps?”

“The divine tend to keep their interventions close to the chest,” Shadowheart replied, matching Temperance’s tone. “Though I suppose it’s not impossible.”

Silence stretched out between them as they eyed one another.

We’re both wondering who the other serves now that the blood’s calmed, Temperance thought. Or at least I am. She’s in for a shock should she ever find out.

Funnily enough her certainty in Shadowheart’s reaction would be a source of amusement to her in the not so distant future.

“I don’t suppose you have any better idea about where we are than I do?” asked Temperance.

“No,” said Shadowheart after another moment of looking around. “I don’t recognize this place. But anything’s an improvement over where we just came from.”

“I can’t say I’m fond of Avernus from what little I saw of it, no,” Temperance deadpanned.

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed. “You played a dangerous game back there on the ship.”

Temperance stilled and tucked away any hint of expression. Eying the cleric with feigned calm. She worried at the hole in her memory after spotting the cambion. Prodding at the gap like it was a missing tooth. “Oh?”

“Picking a fight with that devil. You’re lucky to be alive. Both of us are. Had you taken any longer we’d be dead in the hells instead of stranded wherever here is.”

“I can’t say I recall picking a fight,” she said – entirely honestly, though her tone implied otherwise. “Do you really think that devil would have let any of us get past it to the transponder?”

Shadowheart looked at her, eyebrow raised. “If you say so.”

“Shall I grovel?” she said mildly.

“Hm,” Shadowheart huffed – though there was the faintest hint of a smile hiding at the corners of her lips. “No. I’d much rather you find us a healer. Which is the first thing we need to do, I hope you’re aware.”

“We?” Temperance asked, tilting her head.

“We need each other. We both know what’s at stake. I can’t imagine better company.”

Considering that the smartest course of action for anyone who wasn’t infected to take was a swift beheading – yes, Shadowheart was probably right. Not that Temperance had any particular objections to the other woman’s company. Insofar as strangers went, she was fine.

“Then we had best make use of daylight while we still have it.”

“Wait. You have my name,” said Shadowheart. “What am I to call you?”

Well, there was no avoiding it now. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. Shepherds face painted on the back of her eyelids.

Take back the name your mother gave you for now, he’d said. Let Temperance Crier die.

“Surely it isn’t so difficult a question?” Shadowheart pressed, a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. “I’ll have to call you something if we’re to fight together.”

“Odette,” said Temperance. “Just… call me Odette.”

–

“Tell me you aren’t about to touch that,” Shadowheart said.

The two of them had spent most of the day navigating the wreckage of the nautiloid and its dearth of broken trees, corpses, and horrible swollen little brain things. It was only now as the sun began to sink below the water that they’d found relatively flat ground lacking in the flesh structures of their captors.

Temperance had suggested a break almost as soon as they pulled themselves out of the wreckage. She hadn’t liked how pale Shadowheart’s lips had gone. And though she’d known her for all of a day, she also didn’t like how silently the cleric sank to the ground and set her head between her knees. Breathing hard long after Temperance had gotten her breath back.

It was only after a good twenty minutes of rest that they’d started their slow winding way down a dusty weathered road, rounded the corner and come across it.

A spitting whirling vortex of purple energy with a center of darkness so complete it seemed to suck the light of the setting sun into it. The energy crackled out of the rock face, obscuring all but the outer edge of some kind of rune circle. Clearly the thing was dangerous. And yet…

“I’m hardly going to stick my hand in,” she deadpanned. “I try to keep blindingly stupid actions down to once a day.”

“Ha,” said Shadowheart. “I suppose you’ve met that goal already then?”

Temperance bent and retried a long, gnarled stick from the brambles along the roadside, then strode forward and drove it into the maelstrom of magic. Immediately the stick vibrated against her palm – as if the end of it was caught in a riptide – and a massive purple spark leapt down the length of it to snap at her hand.

“Hells!” She dropped the stick and snatched her hand back, shaking it to dispel the lingering snarl of arcane energy. And then a moment later nearly fell ass over teakettle when an arm thrust itself out of the void and began to flail about blindly.

“A hand? Anyone?” called the owner of aforesaid limb.

Unable to help herself, she exchanged a look with Shadowheart. The cleric pursed her lips and lifted one shoulder, clearly no better equipped to understand rogue arms drifting out of black holes than she was. Though at least this meant they were both seeing the same thing.

Creeping closer, Temperance called, “Is there a person attached to the other end of this arm?”

“I should hope so! Or at least there was this morning in my tower. Pull me out and we’ll get properly introduced!”

The hand continued to snatch at the open air. She didn’t think she was imagining the air of panic to the motion.

“Shadowheart, would you –?”

The cleric sighed but obligingly took hold of the back of her belt with both hands. “I suppose I can’t complain about your rescuing of strangers seeing as it’s the only reason I’m not still in that bloody pod.”

Now anchored, Temperance took the stranger’s arm in both hands and started to pull. He immediately gripped her forearm and clung with a desperate, bruising grip. And the moment they were all connected, they began to jitter from the well of pressure tugging them toward the vortex. Both hers and Shadowheart’s feet began to slide through the dirt, leaving grooves behind. Alarmed, Temperance kicked up one foot and braced against the rock face.

“That’s it!” the stranger called. Sounding remarkably blase. “Go on, keep pulling!”

Taking a deep breath, she practically threw herself backwards, trying to wrench the man loose. So of course this was the moment the vortex decided to spit him out.

She, Shadowheart, and the purple-clad man all went flying backwards and hit the road. Hard. With the man who’d been trapped in the rock laying across them like a corpse. Or perhaps a very large stunned fish.

A stunned fish that smells like a library, Temperance thought.

Muffled swearing from Shadowheart (who had the misfortune to be at the bottom of the pile) followed by. “ – Would you get off of me!”

What followed was a deeply undignified scrambling as limbs went every which way. Someone stepped on her tail – which made her kick reflexively, catching someone else in a soft place that made them wheeze. But after a moment they were all on their feet again, with the wizard – because he had to be a wizard with an entrance like that – brushing off his robes.

Temperance opened her mouth to say something – only for the man to step forward and take her hand. Which he then shook enthusiastically. “Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

“Odette,” she lied, bemused. He looked remarkably clean and possibly even well to do, considering where he’d just come from and their present surroundings. She was mildly annoyed to have to look up in order to meet his eyes. Wasn’t he a tall thing? Cut a rather excellent figure too.

“Apologies,” he went on. “I’m usually better at this.”

“Bludgeoning innocent passersby with your thick skull?” Said Shadowheart sweetly.

“Giving solid objects an identity crisis?” Temperance deadpanned.

“Ha! No and no again. Though all things considered you’re not too far off about changing the nature of things. What I mean is, better at magic.” He glanced behind him at what had once been a broken rune, almost… wistful.

“You’re still in one piece,” she said dryly. “So I’d say better is relative.”

She’d known a few wizards in her life. Enough to know that it wasn’t a question of ‘better’ so much as it was caution. Even the cleverest among them did tend to cause explosions now and again. Even the ones who dealt with magic that didn't seem remotely prone to combustion.

“Right you are! Though some of that is certainly due to your timely intervention. – Say but I know you don’t I?” Her blood ran cold. “In a manner of speaking. You were on the Nautiloid as well.”

And her blood thawed. Though she wearily noted that Shadowheart had spotted her flinch. Those green eyes marked her. Gods damn it. She really should be better at this by now.

“I had the misfortune, yes,” she said, intentionally putting her attention back on Gale. He was rather pretty, actually. With his thick, dark hair threaded with gray, and his expressive brown eyes. He was tattooed as well – though the purplish ink looked almost fresh where it cut into his clavicle and snaked up the side of his neck.

An arcane sigil? She wondered.

“Misfortune is a mild way of putting it. If you were indeed there I can only assume you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the, ah… ocular region.” He made a gesture that was both simple, and terribly graphic at the same time by the side of his head. One of snapping teeth and slithering.

The memory of the tadpoles' entrance unfortunately remained to her. Temperance became eerily aware of the pressure behind one of her eyes. Her hands twitched as she fought the urge to claw at her face and start screaming. “I couldn’t have put it more repellently myself.”

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he said, brow raised. And a moment later, raised one finger too. “The insertee we speak of, this parasite - are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? It's a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.”

This time Temperance couldn’t help a full body shudder. Remembering the other woman in the pod on the ship. The cracking of bones and rending of flesh… the screaming. If Shadowheart knew what had been risked to free her, perhaps she would be less grateful for Temperance’s interference.

“Now, not to diminish your considerable help already but I can’t help but ask… you don't happen to be a cleric, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” And once more he made a rather terrible motion with his hand to illustrate that last bit. With a gleam in his eye too, as if he thought the last idea were rather funny.

“You seem to know enough about our condition to realize it is beyond most clerics' skills,” said Shadowheart.

Gale inclined his head toward her. “Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don't happen to be one of them?”

Temperance watched Shadowheart’s eyes narrow and quickly stepped between the two of them. Just in case. “I’m afraid our skills lend themselves more toward pulling wayward Wizards out of rocks. And the healing of more… common ailments.”

“Ah, well.” He stroked his chin. “I suppose I can’t complain – though it would have been quite neat to have our problems mutually excised merely through the providence of meeting one another!”

“And yet that sounds awfully like complaining to me,” said Shadowheart.

“Friend, you haven’t even begun to experience what a wizard truly in a snit is capable of unleashing,” Gale returned. Never losing his smile and still seeming in surprisingly good humor.

“And I’d rather we didn’t,” said Temperance. “If it’s all the same to you.”

“I’d prefer a less contentious relationship myself,” he agreed, folding his hands behind his back and leaning forward a touch. “Speaking of, with as much danger as we’re in, having a wizard of my not inconsiderable talents along on the road would be to your benefit. To make no mention of my other areas of study coming in handy. One can never predict what needful things might be found through one's love affair with books!”

Temperance smiled faintly. He had no need to convince her – what sense would it make to reject help? Even quite talkative help. Not that she minded overmuch – he had a rather nice voice. “You’re welcome to join up, Gale.”

She watched him smile brightly at her and snatch his hand to his heart. He talked as much with his hands as his mouth, she’d noticed. “Most excellent! A parasite shared is a parasite… halved. Or something to that effect.”

And that actually got a snort out of her. “You’re in good spirits for a man in your position.”

“Well now, being maudlin isn’t likely to do any damage to the wee one. If it did I imagine few enough amongst us who have had the dubious joy of being infected by an illithid’s tadpole would ever transform. And truthfully I’m still rather glad not to be trapped between realms.”

“So I see,” she said. And turned her gaze skyward. There was very little light left, now. The blue shadows of dusk were creeping in around their feet. And so close to the water it was bound to get cold. Temperance frowned to herself, mentally cataloging what she and Shadowheart had scavenged thus far. “I don’t guess you know a place we might camp?”

“Afraid not,” he said. “I’ve been trapped since the crash. Ah, but speaking of! Before you think you're about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor.”

“You’re welcome?” she said, once more bemused. “I’ve made something of a habit of that today.”

“Oh –?”

“We should get moving,” said Shadowheart, interrupting before Gale could pursue his current line of thought. “Find some place to bed down before it's dark and our new wizard friend can’t see.”

“Ah, to be the only human,” he said, setting a hand to his heart in faux pain. “I shall make up for my inability to see in the dark with my skills at the cookfire. Providing we find a place to set one up, of course. Shall we go then?”

Temperance nodded, taking them both in. Shadowheart still seemed a little tired around the eyes – and Gale seemed a touch manic around his. But nothing was broken and no one was bleeding. And – yes. They were indeed both looking to her. She swallowed, heart lodging itself in her throat.

I’m keeping the both of you alive, she promised herself. It was almost unconscious. A thought that formed in the very bones of her, even though she knew neither of them well.

“Let’s keep moving away from the wreckage,” she said. “If anything is still kicking inside I don’t want to run into it.”

[surrealismhorror]

@ed you in the replies on my post then realized that was the worst possible way in the world to communicate with another person. Anyway did you say pathologic TLT AU 👀??

HEHE YES a lot of it is very loose thoughts but I think these series connect so well thematically that it's very fun for me to think about so far what I have is;

Second house: Necro: Aglaya, Cav: Block, not super solid on the placement of these two but the military format fits and I think the idea of a necromancer and cav who don't get along but are Super dedicated to their duty and are both top of their field would be an interesting dynamic

Third house: Stamatin twins, Peter as the necro and Andrey as the cav, these two are so Tridentarii coded it's ABSURD, I think the way they each view the polyhedron would be interesting to transfer towards necromancy, Peter is capable of insanely powerful necromancy but it takes a 'miracle' to achieve it, I also think the parallels between Naberius and Farkhad could be interesting as well so I'd like to throw him in there somewhere, maybe he met Bab's fate earlier on as a botched lytorhood attempt or perhaps Andrey wanted him out so he could be cavalier prime dunno. Not sure if they would become a lyctor or not, I feel like they'd both be all for the process but given how doomed all their projects are I feel like it just wouldn't end up working out, or at least not in the way they want it to

Fourth house: Capella, Khan, and Notkin are all kind of currently rotating positions for this one, I think Capella and Khan's idea that they need to start on this predestined path and be great leaders already despite being literally children and how this indirectly pushes Notkin into that as well is very 4th house like

Fifth House: I think I'm putting Necro Artemy and Cav Rubin here, I think Isidor was the necromancer prime with Rubin as his cav but when he died that got shifted to Artemy, I think his nature as a humble makes Rubin well suited for a cavalier but I think he'd have the same internal conflicts he does normally about Artemy being suddenly given Isidor's role, and Artemy having his same personal journey about his role. I do think Artemy becomes a lyctor though and the more I'm thinking about it is probably one of the better adjusted ones in this au?

Sixth House: Necro Daniil and Cav Eva, you KNOW Daniil would go crazy not only for necromancy in general but the concept of lyctorhood, complete and total mastery over death? Sounds great to him sure hope there aren't any tragic drawbacks! Ultimately I think Daniil isn't capable of becoming a lyctor without a push and I think Eva ends up sacrificing herself for that because she thinks it's their destiny so Daniil ends up getting what he originally wanted but with a lot of guilt attached. On a goofy silly note I think Eva's not actually that good of a cavalier she was just the only one Daniil could get along with

Seventh House: Necromancer Grace is here :) sorry despite this literally being my favorite house that's all I've got dfgdfgkh

Eighth House: Not sure for this one either honestly, leaning towards the Saburovs for their themes of judgement and religious control, regardless I think Katerina in this au is maybe not full on pretending to be a lyctor but definitely still has the issue of trying to seem more powerful than she is

Ninth House: Necromancer Clara and her Cavalier, her twin sister also named Clara isn't that crazy? Nobody's seen the 9th house twins in the same place at the same time and Clara does become a lyctor later on so was she always a lyctor? who's to say. I think in this au the locked tomb contains something more in line with The Powers That Be or perhaps even further The Ones That Executed The Whole Thing but I'm not sure beyond tying it in to Clara's meta awareness, plus she would Thrive in the 9th house's faux Catholicism environment, I know she goes hard with the skull paint

Other Misc Things:

Mark Immortell as John, what if god was a theather kid would that be fucked up or what

Simon was a lyctor and the Kains are definitely doing some fucked up shit to try and reachieve that

I'd like the blood of eden to be in this au somehow and I'd like the fellow traveler to be in this au somehow, that's as far as I've gotten with both those thoughts

I think Lara and Aspity both have a lot of good potential roles in this au I'm just not sure where to put them exactly

any sort of plot stuff is VERY vague rn, canaan house setup at the start I like thinking about and I'd like to tie the sand pest in Somehow

Maybe the polyhedron can host a soul for literal real this time

Anyways this is all extremely messy I just love the way these two series potentially blend together it's very fun for me dkgjdfjg

[thedragonholder]

The rogue shrai ryu Ch-1 🧡🖤

The storm was raging outside and the lightning stuck kuai was asleep after jise meeting with liu kang 'I can't let them get to bi-han' kuai thought as he was drifting to sleep 'I hope Tomas is okay' kuai thought before drifting off to sleep.

Kuai was in a large pit void he started to feel helpless keeping himself in the shadows his eyes widen as his gaze was on his brother getting executed his breath hitched as panic rose in his voice he ran towards his brother but he got held back by liu kang "no!!! Don't execute him!!" Kuai shouted in his dream but then bi-han's head got cut off by the executioner the blood splattered on the ground kuai was in shock.

Kuai woke up gasping for air "it happened again" Kuai mumbled tears started coming out of his eyes "why can't the gods just let me live in peace!!!" Kuai shouted to himself he desperately wanted his brother back and wanted him to be on his side he needed both of his brothers alive they kept him sane kuai sighed if liu kang won't help him then no one could but there was one person someone who everyone was afraid off .

The nether realm was quite a dark place with unfertile grounds and red sky the heat was high but it didn't bother anyone there were small caves as homes and skulls of devoured creatures.

There was a obsidian built castle with red fire litting up from the ground the castle was majestic but old and only two people lived in the palace the king of the nether realm and the high mage of nether realm.

Inside the palat there was a study filled with ancient books a small table and a throne like chair the table consisted of orange and black ink and a black writing brush a man with tan skin and brown eyes sat on the throne working he wore

And wielded

The black armour was attached to his body and his helmet was off on the side he was hanzo hisashi king of the nether realm working on paper "this paper work is too much" Hanzo mumbled his chian scythe hung on the wall along side his sword suddenly the door opened it was a woman worh dark brown hair in pigtails in the front and let down at the back with pale skin and red eyes she wore

The white and red robes were attached to her body as the brown boots were knee lengths her bracelet on the left hand on her wrist she wielded a staff

The girl was hatsune and she wielded a staff in her hands her expression was emotionless "my lord-" "Hanzo just call me hanzo.." Hanzo said hatsune sighed "hanzo the disturbance has stopped more souls had been occupied in the nether realm at this point it might be full. Me and charon are worried about the condition they aren't going better the creatures blood lust are rising" Hatsune said "hatsune i need you to go and investigate this matter it's important to find out the source" Hanzo said hatsune nodded "you better not drink devils smile without me..." Hatsune said as she disappeared in red hell flame hanzo sighed the floor was covered with ashes.

Hanzo took out a bottle and was going to drink it until he heard a prayer

'Oh Lord of the nether realm please help me'

Hanzo wondered who was praying to him after all no one dared pray to hanzo hisahi

'I kuai liang leader of the shirai ryu pray to you for your help I have lost hope in the people trying to capture my corrupted brother. He may be evil but I know he can change so please help me'

Hanzo felt pity for the man by the name of kuai liang he then disappeared into black fire and decided to pay him a visit.

Kuai liang was on his knees on the floor thinking the God might have not listened to his prayer until shadows appeared swirling in front of him hanzo made out of the shadows wearing his helmet "you prayed to the God of the nether realm" Hanzo said in a deep voice "is this my punishment?" Kuai asked in fear Hanzo let out a laugh "punishment!?" Hanzo said towering the man kuai was in fear and confused about the mans behavior "you pray to me and expect punishment!!! I am here to help you fool!" Hanzo said in rage "your..." Kuai was in shock "hanzo hisashi king of the nether realm, slayer of shinnok at your service kuai liang" Hanzo hisashi said kuai started to faint but hanzo caught him in his arms and gently put him on his bed 'he looks like he needs sleep, what happened to you kuai liang' hanzo thought to himself as he sat on a comfortable arm chair and removed his helmet waiting for him to wake up.

[arvden]

Fantastic Vista

ITS FINALLY DONE! (sorry!)

I've always loved Gaudi's work, ever since I went to Barcelona and more specifically Casa Batllo (the house with the skull motifs!), which has more than partially fueled my overall love of Art Nouveau. Gaudi specifically is part of Modernisme (or Catalan Modernisme): spontaneous, organic shapes. Despite the seeming lack of "rules," I've come to realize that not only are these very strategic choices but they're also pretty formulaic, at least when it comes to the basic structure of a Modernisme building. In Palau Guell's case (one of Gaudi's earliest works) the building is very geometric, with triangular roofs that resemble the building blocks of Minecraft, for lack of a better way to put it, but the spontaneity lies in the little structures at the top, which are all different, all unique, all of multiple colors and patterns. Casa Batllo has much rounder detailing (balconies, windows, railings, even the roof) but is surprisingly subdued in colors in its largest surfaces (or at least what you can see from the front; it's different on its terrace area and inside quarters).

For my personal take on it, I chose the NY Supreme Court building - if in my previous assignment (Redressing the Figure) I tried to match the redressing to the pose almost too exactly, I wanted to go a bit wilder here. What I will say is that I think I made some very creative choices on the facade of the building: just like Batllo and its skull motifs (railings, doors, windows), I tried to theme this building after mouths and teeth. That said, I kind of ran out of ideas after that. I am not as well versed in drawing buildings as I'd like, and I'm not exactly proud of the composition in general (which is why I kept the photo as the background) but I think I had good ideas with good (could be better) execution. The perspective lines were insanely hard to draw, which is another thing I need to get better at (anatomy and perspective, my worst enemies)... Though I kind of think that I did a good job, I also think I made my job harder than it should've been! I keep looking at other buildings on my street and I'm like "ah... I should've just gone with a classic 1-point perspective instead of trying to do 2 or 3..."

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

*slams the reblog icon through my keyboard*

I crave this So. Hard. Give me feral Hunter. Completely unhinged, vengeance fueled, feral Hunter. He can go on his Joel Miller/John Wick/Liam Neeson in Taken arc, as a treat.

I've been trying to figure out why I love this idea so much. I think it's because we never see The Bad Batch actually, properly unleash. Sure, they're unconventional and a bit bonkers in their approach but they're still a very well oiled machine. When they're on a mission, they all know exactly what they're doing, what their roles are, and where their squad mates are. Even when they improvise on the fly, they all adapt fairly easily and smoothly. Everything is still rather professional, smooth, and efficient. Like they're all operating on muscle memory, which they basically are given how many countless times I'm sure they've trained and done missions together.

Even when the Batch is fighting their way through Kamino, they still operate with that same smooth, efficient, hyper competent professionalism. Despite their unorthodox approach, there's still this sense that they're contained. Never completely throwing off the shackles and going completely unrestrained. The full force of their capabilities and skills simmering just below the surface, waiting to be given free rein and just obliterate everything.

There's a little hint of this in the opening scene of episode 2x14 'Tipping Point', where the ARC trooper in Echo comes out to play. But oh how I would love to see more. From all of them really, but especially Hunter. Space Dad is on a warpath to get his ad'ika back, cutting a swathe through the Imperials, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, and taking out anything and everything that even thinks about getting in his way.

Can you just imagine Wrecker properly unleashing? All of that strength and power finally unleashed, as he rips limbs off Stormtroopers, snaps necks and crushing skulls with his bare hands. We got a hint of how damaging Wrecker can be when his chip activated but that was chip controlled. This would just be pure Wrecker.

We see more of this in Crosshair's actions and you could also argue that this is chip controlled. But that unrestrained part of him is still there. The amount of rage and anger that must be building up and festering inside Crosshair is eventually going to explode. When he snaps like he did at the end of 'The Outpost' then there is not going to be a Stormtrooper left without a blaster bolt between their eyes. If Hemlock ends up dying (he better), my bet is on Crosshair getting revenge, and it won't be pretty. He'd shoot him execution style at the very least.

I'd love to see Tech (shut up he's alive) completely lose it and just absolutely unleash. I've written about this before but Tech's combat is exceptionally efficient and precise. He only ever uses the minimum number of shots or moves to take out an enemy because he doesn't need to expend anything beyond what is necessary. His combat style is very contained, almost like a mirror of his personality. Can you just imagine him snarling and growling like a beast, teeth bared, eyes dark and face distorted in rage, as he slams a Stormtrooper's head into a wall with enough force to crack their helmet.

I mentioned this above that we've seen a tiny bit of this from Echo. There's another little hint of it when they're in that training simulation on Kamino.

This gifset from @starqueensthings shows this perfectly, especially this gif. I love their line at the top of their post, which I'm going to quote in part here "I’d like to introduce my scomp arm TO YOUR JUGULAR WIRE." This captures the unhinged quality lurking in Echo perfectly. He's just leapt onto the back of what looks to be the Kaminoan version of a B2 super battle droid and then proceeds to flail and stab madly before plunging his scomp arm into the battle droids chest and ripping out the droid version of its jugular. Absolutely unhinged behaviour.

Now picture Echo finally snapping and doing this to a bunch of Imperials and just absolutely annihilating them. There's so much in him that definitely needs to be released. The general batshittery that comes with being an ARC Trooper. The insanity and chaos of coming from the 501st and Torrent Company. The unconventional, unorthodox and bonkers existence of The Bad Batch. Plus all that trauma, fury and rage of what has happened, and been done, to him. When the last frayed threads holding Echo back finally snap he is going to go completely postal.

Is it healthy? No. Is it "good"? Probably not. But my god, would I love to see it.

The Clone Wars has a history of tackling and portraying difficult topics and we've seen that in The Bad Batch as well. Recent Star Wars series, such as Andor and The Mandalorian, have also had a real focus on showing the murky areas that exist in and between the good (Republic) and bad (Imperial). There's been a particular focus on showing that there's a lot more grey between the obvious black and white. The whole 'deeply flawed parental figure seeking revenge and vengeance' is a popular trope at the moment so feral Hunter would make sense narratively for a number of reasons. Will we actually get it? Probably not. And even if we do, it'll probably still be a watered-down kids friendly version.

But oh, just imagine if we did.

I wanna see Hunter just going absolutely feral.

Bad batch spoilers, rated M

Imagine he gets to the planet Omega and Crosshair are on. He manages to get into the base somehow, and he doesn’t even wait for Echo and Wrecker. He doesn’t use the stun feature. The entire landing pad is gone by the time the other two join him.

He’s pushing on, through hallways. He shoots down storm troopers as he goes, paying attention to which ones are just troopers and which ones look like higher ups.

“Um, Hunter?” Echo asks, his blaster raised but still cold from disuse.

Hunter finally finds an officer. Grabs him by the throat, slams him into the wall. “Where’s Hemlock?” He growls, teeth bared.

Echo and Wrecker pause behind him, blasters raised at the ready for any back up this officer may call.

“I don’t know,” the officer chokes, hands uselessly clawing at Hunter’s arms. “But if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I believe you,” Hunter spits, and the blast in the officer’s stomach forces the man limp.

“Hunter?” Wrecker asks, eyes looking on worriedly.

Hunter doesn’t answer. He goes through a door. Another. Dead bodies pile up, never even had a chance to shoot back. Hunter doesn’t pause, doesn’t stop moving. He shoots as he goes.

Through another door. Down a flight of stairs. Another officer. He shoots everyone else, aims his blaster at the officer’s face. “Hemlock,” is all he says.

“I know where he is!” The officer says, hands raised in surrender. “I can take you to him!”

“Where is he?” Hunter growls.

“Floor -70. He’ll have heard the alarms by now. He’ll be in his bunker.”

Hunter shoves the man into Wrecker’s chest, who grabs him by the scruff of the neck and starts walking him to follow Hunter.

Elevators. Hunter fucking hates elevators. They’re slow, they force him to stand still. The officer won’t stop whimpering, face forced to look at the floor.

“Hunter,” Echo tries again.

Hunter works his jaw. Tilts his head just slightly to show he’s listening.

“What’s the plan?”

Hunter rolls his jaw again, looking back at the elevator doors. “Find Hemlock. Make him take us to Omega. Get out.”

“Are there any…in between steps?”

Hunter doesn’t answer. The door opens. He shoots down everyone running at him. Echo stuns the ones running away. Wrecker punches a few people in white coats standing in doorways.

“Take a left up here,” their captive whimpers out, refusing to look at the fallen teammates. “It’s a long hallway. His bunker will be at the very end.”

Hunter does. It’s only lab coats now. Hunter shoots them down, uncaring.

They reach the door, and Hunter kicks it in easily. It’s not a bunker. It’s an office. Hemlock isn’t there. He turns to their captive, fury turning his vision red.

“He’s supposed to be here!” The man cries, wincing as Wrecker’s hold tightens on his neck. “He said he would be here if there was ever an invasion.”

Hunter walks over to him, grabbing his chin. Wrecker lets go. The man whimpers, the words to beg for his life dying on his tongue. “I believe you,” Hunter says. For a second, a flicker of hope lights up the man’s eyes. But then those eyes go dull as Hunter quickly snaps his neck.

“Hunter!” Echo hisses, disapproval painting his voice.

Hunter ignores him. He pushes past them both, forcing his way back down the long corridor. He takes a right where he before took a left.

“Clones!” Wrecker yells, looking at the cells upon cells of locked up clones.

“I’ll let them out,” Echo says, something raw in his voice. “This must be where they’re taking the decommissioned clones. Rex was telling me about a mission to save-“

Hunter holds up a hand, indicating silence. Echo’s voice falters, stops.

Hunter listens. The prisoners are yelling, begging for release. Distractions. “Silence!” Hunter yells, after shooting three rounds into the ceiling.

Quiet. Good. He closes his eyes, focusing. “Wrecker, with me. Echo-go ahead.”

He feels more than sees Echo nod his affirmative, and he sets to work on unlocking the doors.

Hunter leads Wrecker down the hall. Left. Right. Another right. Through a door. Another left. Pauses, has to shoot a guard. Through a door.

Hunter raises the gun, aiming it at the woman in a white coat. “She looks important,” Wrecker says softly.

“My name is Emerie Karr,” she stutters out. “I’m the lead scientist.”

“And I care because?” Hunter growls, stepping forward and getting the blaster closer to her chest.

“I’m the one working on Omega and Crosshair.”

Hunter’s blood goes cold. He stops breathing. His hand shakes. “Where. Is. She?” He spits through gritted teeth.

“This way,” she says, but doesn’t indicate or move. She only stares at the blaster.

“Move!” Hunter yells, frightening her. She starts to back up, but realizes that’s not fast enough quickly. More rooms. Moor hallways. More doors. It takes no time at all and an eternity.

“She’s in this room,” Emerie says softly. “Hemlock is in there.”

“Open. The. Door.”

Wrecker moves closer, blaster trained on her. “I’ve got her, Hunter. You check it out.”

Hunter can barely hear over the blood pounding in his ears. The door opens. His blaster aims inward, no target yet. He looks around, his own breathing deafening him.

“Hunter!”

He almost breaks.

The high pitched voice is scared. Hunter momentarily worries he’s covered in blood. If he’s scaring her. But no; it’s not him. It’s Hemlock.

“Take one more step and I shoot her,” Hemlock’s low, soft voice lilts. As if he’s the one in control.

Hunter aims his blaster, teeth bared in aggression. “I won’t ask you twice,” Hunter spits.

Hemlock presses the gun more firmly into Omega’s temple, and the girl cries out in pain or fear. “You aren’t the one making demands here, Hunter.” His voice annoys Hunter, and the growl which rips through his throat is involuntary.

Hunter’s entire body is shaking with the desire to rip Hemlock apart. “Omega is too close,” Emerie whispers unhelpfully.

“Put the gun down, Hunter. It’s over. Put the gun down and let my scientist in the room. My guards will be here shortly.”

Hunter grins, too much teeth to be anything other than threatening. Any guards will be meeting the fury of countless decommissioned clones right about now.

Hemlock seems undeterred. “I’m only keeping her alive to control Nala Se. I don’t care if she lives or dies. Now that Nala Se has seen her, I can convince her Omega is safe and held in a cell. You’re the one who wants her alive.”

Hunter laughs, and it sounds so unlike anything he’s ever made before. “If you kill her, I will tear you apart, piece by piece, until you beg for mercy that won’t come.”

Hemlock has the sense to at least hesitate now. He looks between Hunter and Wrecker, whose gun is still aimed at Emerie.

Omega cries softly, not looking at Hunter anymore. “I’m scared,” she whispers.

Hunter fights back the urge to growl again. He works his jaw instead, eyes flicking from her to Hemlock. He sees movement behind the pair as he does; it takes everything inside of him to not focus on the body slowly inching towards them.

“You hear that?” Hemlock asks, voice somehow still calm and soft. Taunting. Hunter bares his teeth in rage, allowing Hemlock to think he took the bait. “She’s scared. Do you think she’s scared of me, or of you?”

Wrecker shifts behind him, and Hunter can practically see the excitement he’s trying to conceal. Hunter ignores them both. “Omega,” Hunter pleads, lowering his gun. “I’d never hurt you,” he promises.

Omega looks up, eyes full of tears. “Hunter,” she whines.

Hemlock pretends to coo, mockingly. “Hunter,” he copies, but a wicked smile distorts his face into something inhuman. Emerie’s breath catches as she notices, but Wrecker presses the blaster more firmly into the back of her neck. “Go ahead and put the gun down, Hunter. I win.”

Hunter holds his gun tighter, still lowered to point at the floor. He grits his teeth, pretending to fight himself on what to do. “It’s okay, Omega,” Hunter says softly. “Just look at me.”

Omega stares into Hunter’s eyes, her own full of tears. “I want to go home,” she says.

Hunter takes one hand off the gun, pretending to raise it in surrender. “I’m here, Omega. I’m here.”

Hemlock laughs in victory, aiming the gun instead at Hunter. Stupid, arrogant mistake. “That’s right. Put that gun down. Nice and slow.”

The blow is sudden, and hard. Hemlock loses consciousness immediately, and Omega sprints for Hunter’s arms. Hunter catches her easily, arms wrapping around her and holding her as tightly as he can.

“You lose,” Crosshair spits, swaying on his feet. He leans heavily on the bench Hemlock is now slouched over.

Wrecker hits Emerie over the back of the head with the handle of his blaster, and is pushing past Hunter and Omega before her body hits the floor. He throws Crosshair’s arm over his shoulder, using one arm to help support his weight. “I knew you were still in there somewhere,” Wrecker says lowly.

Hunter pets Omega’s hair, holding her to his chest. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m here now.”

“Hunter,” Omega cries, tiny fists clenching at his hair to keep him close.

“Hunter,” Echo calls from behind them. “Rex is on his way to get the decommissioned clones. Or…” his voice turns sad for a moment. “The ones who are left. There were a lot of guards here.”

Hunter raises himself from his kneeling position, bringing Omega with him. Her legs wrap around his waist, and he half rests her on his hip. “Good. Help Crosshair. Wrecker, grab Hemlock.” All three of his brothers hesitate, questions on the tip of their tongues. “Now,” Hunter growls.

Wrecker gently passes Crosshair to Echo, and then throws Hemlock over his shoulder. Omega buries her face in Hunter’s neck, quiet sobs breaking his heart.

They make their way to the elevator, and Hunter glares at the escapees so they won’t join them. There isn’t much room left anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Crosshair says after several minutes of silence.

Hunter looks to him, and for the first time since Ord Mantell, his face softens. He raises the hand not holding Omega to cup his shoulder, squeezing. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to. The sigh of relief Crosshair tries to hide is indicative of message received.

There’s a lot of questions which will be asked later. Later. Once they’re free from this hell planet. Once Omega is safe on their ship. Once he has time.

[manjiroscum]

HARUCHIYO SANZU KINKS

Warnings: f!reader, sexual themes, mature language, unprotected sex, consensual cuckolding, consensual non-con, overstimulation, use of sex toys, office sex, sound kink, roleplay, hints of gun play, degradation, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: for my bby aly @sanzuchi💕 i hope this cheers u up

ROLEPLAY

Sanzu Haruchiyo wished he had his phone with him right now to record the glorious view in front of him. How could he easily forget that tonight you were gonna treat him to a little show? Of course, he wasn’t gonna stop you from bouncing on his thick cock, tits pressed against his face, rubbing his cheeks, to grab his gadget sitting by his pants discarded to the floor along with the plastic stethoscope you had as a prop. Playing as a sexy doctor threw him off when he entered the bedroom, bones exhausted from executing traitors of Bonten quickly amended themselves at the sight of you—black lace lingerie and stockings underneath the white coat. Coaxing him to come closer so you could administer a quick check-up that ended up with you sucking on his dick. Ruby red lips parting on his red tip, slowly inching your way down and feel him throb around your mouth.

It was truly a scene straight out of an erotic video and one Haruchiyo would completely rewatch if only he had the initiative to film this. Yet, even if he could, his azure pupils would be far too busy drinking up your form quivering above him, whimpering while questioning your supposed patient for the night about his well-being. Hands busy cupping your breasts free from the bra, squeezing and pinching the perk nipples. Only the lab coat was left on you.

“I-Is the treatment working, Mr. Sanzu? Ah, I pride myself in knowing what m-my patient needs, you see.”

“Doc, I think my dick still needs more of a squeezin’. I’ll probably feel a lot better if you let me cum inside your pretty pussy.”

CUCKOLDING

Screaming into the soft pillow soiled with your mascara, tears and drool, the huge cock drilling into your fluttering damp hole was too much to take. This was your sixth orgasm pulled from you, and you swore you couldn't even remember your own name. Rindou was far bigger, meatier, than your boyfriend. Bullying its way into your tight walls that was housing his throbbing shaft. Mind hazy at the absolute bliss, you almost failed to recall that Haruchiyo was in the same room, watching from the couch to see if Rindou was as good as the rumors set him out to be. And really, he wanted to see too if the younger Haitani could please your greedy pussy that was always aching to be wrapped around your boyfriend's cock.

“Shit, this cunt won't stop clenchin’ around me.” Rindou groaned, setting on a new pace that had you whimpering, fisting the sheet around you as if to hold onto yourself unless you get lost in the euphoric high Rindou’s cock was gracious to give. “She's like a cheap whore! Where did ‘ya find such a good pussy, huh?”

“A great magician never tell his tricks, Haitani. And even if I do tell you, my girl’s pussy is one of a kind.” Hand rubbing his leaking tip, Haruchiyo then sneered at Rindou. “So, I suggest you keep fucking her ‘til she's dumb ‘cause this will be the first and last time you ever will. Just remember, don’t cum inside her.”

SOUND KINK

The gun clicking loudly against his ear was close to nonexistent. The tip still drenched with your spit, having been lodged into your mouth seconds ago while you were kneeling on the floor. Glossy eyes silently begging for him to fuck you or at least use your throat like one of his pocket pussies. Haruchiyo would have to admit though, that no matter how many bullets he placed into people’s skulls and how addicting it was to listen to them scream, his hearing skills have never failed to pick up the slightest whine that escapes your lips when he rubbed your clothed clit with his shoe. The sound shot up his spine and to his nerves, creating a tingling sensation that had his cock twitching under his pants.

The buzzing of the pink egg-shaped vibrator pulled his gaze from your teary eyes, down at your panties soaked with your arousal. The toy he placed inside your pussy hard at work. According to him, you had to be a quiet beauty for you to be able to cum. Yet, Haruchiyo was making it hard for you to stay silent. Hard enough that you were close to calling it quits and just mewl aloud, letting the other members of Bonten know in the room next door that you just came on your underwear.

“Be a good slut and stay quiet, okay? You don’t wanna anger Mikey, do ‘ya? Don't wanna let them hear you cry out like a bitch in heat, yeah?”

CONSENSUAL NONCONSENT

Mourning at your Versace dress now resembling shredded paper by the fax machine, you sobbed into the mahogany desk that was damp with your tears as Haruchiyo ripped your panties off like it was band-aid. At the sight of your plush ass revealed to him like a gift for Christmas, a yelp escaped your lips when he spanked it, jiggling at the action. And soon, Haruchiyo entered your pussy without warning, moaning into the air unashamedly as his cock splits your folds in half. It stung a little, eliciting another sob from your lips that Haruchiyo was quick to scold you for by thrusting into you abruptly.

“Shut it, bitch. Cocksleeves are not supposed to be cowards especially towards cock!” He hissed, resuming his hips pistoning against yours. Papers were scattered around the floor and the desk underneath you was creaking like a squeaky floorboard while Bonten’s number two rammed his cock into your tight warm walls, cumming after a few seconds yet never ceased his onslaught. A whine bubbled out of your throat at the thick milky semen mixed with your slick running down your thighs and onto the floor, some staining your boyfriend’s paperwork. But Haruchiyo didn’t care.

Tonight, he'd rather paint your gummy walls purely white again and again than to do sign those papers. Would rather fuck you stupid, creaming around him, and have you slightly regretting that you offered him the chance to than to finish his work.

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