#this fairly off the cuff

[elliebelliegirl]

okay following up though... i understand that you are jewish and Israeli but (not trying to attack you, just trying to understand) how can you stand with the state of Israel after seeing the numbers of atrocities that the IDF has committed - of course the hostages should be released, but palestine will cease to exist if this continues and this is an active genocide. people are being displaced and thousands have died. how can you in good conscience stand with the actions of Israel ?

im still assuming this is in good faith! i do appreciate that you're asking and not attacking, it's really nice change of pace tbh. please understand that my ethnicity and my political opinions are not the same thing and how i feel about the state of israel is divorced from my religious beliefs. i just also believe that my people have a right to live in our indigenous land. i also believe palestinians should be able to live in israel (many already do.) anyway, here's the deal.

first, im not israeli, but my family is. i was born and raised in the u.s. while most of my family is israeli, i am not (yet.) im an american jew with strong roots in israel.

second! israelis have been displaced since october, since the attacks by hamas, the governing body of gaza. they've been attacked and killed for years (the whole reason the iron dome exists is because missiles are such an active threat.) getting displaced or killed has happened to israelis and gazans. its terrible for everyone. i am human, and therefore uncomfortable with war, but i don't think it's a genocide. i am horrified by the deaths in gaza. i hate that innocents are being harmed. i don't want to add a however, but there's a big one- it's that the ratio of killed militants v.s civilians is unfathomably low. if israel wanted to kill everyone in gaza (which is 100% not the goal) they would be dead already. the war is active now only to eradicate hamas, which would be beneficial to gazans and israelis, and to rescue the hostages. israel has offered to end the war multiple times and hamas has refused.. because they refuse to return the people they kidnapped. the war could've been over months ago!!! months ago. israel did not instigate this war, and has repeatedly offered ceasefire deals. hamas is the one shooting these offers down. also, palestine wont just cease to exist.. im not sure what that part means, can you explain it? i want to understand you, too.

also. i have cousins in the idf. one of them was supposed to come over before last days on sukkot and couldn't make it in the end. over the weekend, october seventh happened. the next time we spoke, it was a phone call right after simchat torah ended. he was on his way to the airport, having been called back to israel to meet his unit in kfar aza and start collecting bodies. i only had a few minutes to tell him i love him and to stay alive on behalf of me and my siblings. the memory is so surreal. we turned on our phones for the first time in days to texts from our israeli family saying they were alive, not to watch the videos, not to look at the pictures. im still kind of stuck there on my couch, holding my siblings in a hug and wondering if someone who hadn't texted yet was dead. then we saw people celebrating the massacre. they haven't really stopped. so we knew we couldnt really count on anyone to protect us, and this was way before israel entered gaza. people were just happy jews were dead. don't know if this is a huge sidetrack, but. this is why i stand with israel. their goal is to keep my family alive. their goal is to keep as many gazans as possible alive. that is not the goal of iran and hamas. this goes further than zionism though, tbh. zionism is pretty simple as a principle 😅

[unproduciblesmackdown]

for the first time in ages an ebay search for Alex Kralie's Discontinued Striped Blue American Eagle Outfitters Hoodie turned up a result! a preworn XS one (with photos of a ruler across its height & width to reference against a garment of your own) with a small hole beside the top of the zipper (shown in photos also. mend Or just decide is alex kraliecore as is) & ships out of texas, $12.99 or best offer

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

so like this is a couch stitch:

it's really simple. the bulk of your floss stays on top of the fabric (thread1, red). you use another finer piece of thread (thread2, blue) to do simple loops around thread1 and the fabric. if you can do any other decorative stitches, the concept of 'sew thread on front with tiny stitches' has almost definitely occurred, you know? especially to a highly skilled embroiderer.

it gives clean lines and beautiful curves and it conserves thread but it is also WEAK. weak weak weak weak WEAK ass stitch. i would never use a couch stitch on anything other than a decorative object. it cannot stand up to wear. rips right off if it catches on anything because the trick of it is the thinness of thread2.

peasants wouldn't have a lot of clothes and would have expected all of them to get serious wear, over time if not through circumstance. stronger stitches use more thread, sure, but it's a trade-off with a clear benefit. because the stronger stitches last longer and are less likely to rip. even if the gold thread is stronger, it SCREAMS 'i have someone else regularly repairing my clothes." unless the metal thread shreds the fabric itself and that's why couching the proper way, i would do that on purpose. using expensive ass thread to make handmade clothes for a loved one, i'd be sitting there like "this shit will last the next 30 years or so help me GOD."

anyway my point is this might be on purpose

i cant truly explain why but i almost cried yesterday while talking to a woman who studies medieval rus goldwork embroidery, who explained that there is a very particular method that is used to do goldwork embroidery called couching that keeps the thread on the top of the fabric (compared to normal embroidery techniques, where the thread goes over and under the fabric for each stitch) to conserve the very expensive gold thread and this technique is seen historically on more or less all examples of goldwork pieces commissioned by the church, nobility, or chivalric orders from goldwork guilds. however, rural gravesites reveal that lots of people, not just the wealthy, owned a small piece or two of goldwork embroidery, usually collars or cuffs, that were made by someone they knew. these pieces were almost universally made using typical embroidery techniques, meaning they used up twice the gold thread. something about the idea of people, so long ago, saving up to make something beautiful and expensive and special for someone they love, even lacking the specialized knowledge to do it the "proper" way, is so human to me.

[alexiroflife]

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

���WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

-

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

-

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."

[normal-sea-urchin]

"oh but dressing punk is so expensive" i made a wrist cuff yesterday that costed less than five dollars and the only reason it even costed that much was because i needed to buy buttons (i got a three pack for $1.27) and because i bought some studs off of studsnspikes.com, and now im gonna sew a mistfits patch i got from a friend onto a flannel i thrifted for fairly cheap.

[firedemongaming]

He is doing it because he was told to.

John's instructions weren't 'escape those'

His instructions were 'figure out how I escaped those'

Even if Danny can escape just fine how own way, that's not what he was told to do

And phasing out would bypass the meaning of the lesson (that being that it's good to know the non-magic methods (even if they're not easier for Danny in this case))

John knows this (he chose the lesson after all) so while he might have a laugh when he realises Danny hasn't noticed he's phasing out of it, he probably wouldn't criticise Danny for not using his phasing to escape

Because in this scenario, phasing out of the cuffs is the wrong answer.

Because John didn't phase out of them

He unlocked them with the key he nicked.

So John Constantine has canonically exorcised a ghost by telling it to piss off, so imagine, if you will, this:

Box Ghost:*appears* I am the Box Ghost, prepare to meet your rectangular and cardboard DOOM

John: Piss off

Box Ghost: *disappears*

John: Now, as I was saying-

Danny, sleep deprived and one ghost attack away from a mental breakdown: *in awe* TEACH ME YOUR WAYS MAGIC MAN

———

Box Ghost, in the Ghost Zone: What the *bleep*

[ghosts-to-reid]

A Tragedy for The Bard

Request: In which the reader is Spencer Reid's best friend for two years since he joined the BAU. The reader saw Spencer loving JJ, Lila and now a mysterious girl on the phone "Maeve" when one day Spencer introduces her to the team, they are all happy for him, the reader was very sad but wants Spencer to be happy with Maeve @shuichiakainx

A/N: I kinda changed the timeline of the friendship and the request a lil but i hope you enjoy still! Accidentally went off and wrote an entire novel so i hope you enjoy!

TW: Maeve arc spoilers, violence, suicide, stalking, bodily harm

ANGSTY

SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN!

Spencer Reid has been your best friend since you joined the FBI’s renowned BAU. He was sweet and kind, always attentive to your emotions, and showing he cared. He’d bring you coffee every morning, sit with you at lunch, and then, more often, than not, hang out with you through evenings; You never had set plans together, but the impromptu nature of your friendship is what made it exciting. After all, he was your best friend, things should be this easy with him.

Of course, having a crush on your best friend isn’t completely bizarre. The brain can get confused with chemicals and all, the attraction you have to Spencer is simply a bug in your brain that’ll balance out eventually…

That’s what you told yourself when you saw the pictures of Spencer and Lila in the pool. This was when you were both still fairly new, when he was a merely 23 and you were 25. Of course, he was already far more qualified than you were, and when you met, the fact you’d skipped 2 grades didn’t seem so impressive anymore… yet you couldn’t hold a grudge. The pair of you worked together amazingly, Derek and Elle often poked fun at you both when they over heard, quote “nerdy-ass nonsense” (Eloquently said, Agent Morgan) but you cherished those moments. Those moments were what made you fall for his mind first and foremost, the discussions, massively unorthodox hypotheticals, spirited debates, it was all so easy with him. Of course, you’d acknowledge that he’s attractive, very much so you thought. But you were co workers, so the tinge of jealousy you felt whenever Spencer and Lila interacted just had to be ignored.

The thing that stung the most was Spencer’s eagerness go to talk to you about their kiss.

The team had just wrapped up the Lila Archer case. You were all exhausted, of course, but you maybe more so than the rest of the team. Sitting alone with your head resting atop your fist, staring into space whilst the rest of the team settled into their seats. You barely notice Spencer sitting in the single seat across from you, speaking your name softly to get your attention. Eventually you notice, lifting your head, slowly blinking at him

“Hm?”

“I was just wondering if… if you had a chance to look through the case file yet…” his voice held a nervous edge as he fiddled with his cuffs. He was wondering if you saw him and Lila, making out, in a pool. You sure as hell had and you were desperately trying to hide your seething jealousy that you weren’t the one in that pool with him. However, you feigned negligence.

“No.” Shaking your head lightly, voice soft, you were emphasising your fatigue in an attempt to keep this interaction short “I’ve not had the time yet.”

He seemed slightly relieved, his shoulders were still tense as he leaned back in his seat, though. He seemed to be looking for an invitation to continue, but you weren’t going to give it to him yet.

“She kissed me…” he muttered quietly, his fingers seemingly becoming fascinating to him. The breath caught in your lungs for a second before you pulled your lips into a tight, albeit forced, smile.

“That’s great Spencer. I’m happy for you.” You speak softly and slowly, trying to convince both him and yourself that your statement was truth. He seemed convinced by the small smile on his face, a blush to his cheek. He opened his mouth to continue but you were interrupted by Gideon’s voice

“Y/N! Come over here a second.” Was all he said. Spencer looked at you confused, and you gave him a puzzled look back. Unsure of what Gideon wanted, you stood silently and made your way over to where he sat with Hotch. You slid in across from them, Gideon was reading the paper whilst Hotch had a pen in his hand, silently writing. Confusion was still lingering as you sat there for a moment before you saw the small smile on Hotchs face, and Gideon caught your eye, giving you a small wink befor returning to his paper. Unsure how to feel at the seemingly all knowing nature of the pair, who had assessed you needed an out, you rested back into your original position, head leaning against the window and you closed your eyes. Trying to ignore the sting in your chest as you try to sleep, ignoring the lingering image of the two that had somehow burned itself at the back of your eyelids.

Though still painful, your young heart broken by a simple kiss, it was of course nothing compared to the heart break that came 2 years later. The friendship that had started as close work companions had turned into you becoming best friends, to the pair of you being nearly inseparable. At this point, you were the dream team, you had learnt to shoulder your crush on the boy wonder. Of course, the teasing was still there, you were after all very close, but it didn’t make you flush the same rose as it had before. The same can be said for Spencer, who now just huffed at Dereks implications. Of course, people on the team were aware of your crush on Spencer, they were profilers. Yet they kept it to themselves, with the obvious exception of Derek.

It was a typical Saturday night for you and Spencer, as typical as possible when you’re not away on a case anyway. Both of you were sat on his couch, legs touching, your skin felt like it was on fire at the points where you both meet, yet you had long since learnt to ignore the warm feeling you felt at moments like these. It was late, really you should’ve gone home hours ago, Saturday had become Sunday hours ago, but the two of you had been caught up in conversation, a common occurrence between the two of you. Tonight, though, had been a night of deep conversations, psychological exploration of each others memories. The topic of crushes had come up, Spencer had opened up to you about what had happened to him in Highschool, and you comforted him. Then, you shared a story about how your diary was stolen, and the pages of embarrassing love poetry were printed and posted around your school. His way of comfort is to tell you how he’d think it was romantic, before rambling about the Shelley’s and Byron.

“Do you have a crush right now?” You asked sleepily, you were sleepily hopeful of a love confession but you weren’t counting on it. Spencer only saw you as a friend after all.

Spencer leans back on the couch, looking back up to you with half lidded eyes. He takes a moment to read your face, to look for any kind of malice or mischief, and when finding none, pulls his lips to a tight line.

“Kind of… I love someone.” Was all he said. It was clear that the sleep deprivation was acting like a truth serum on you both, and making you both bolder. Maybe not for the better…

You’d perked up slightly when he’d said the word ‘love’, hoping again, silently it was you. That, he’s finally, after 4 years of pining in your friendship, that he’d realised his feelings for you. You promoted him to continue, hoping for him to speak your name.

“JJ…” he was breathless

Again, that twisting pain hit you like a train. Your chest aches and your eyes suddenly felt very itchy. Spencer continues, as if he doesn’t need another print after seeing you enthusiasm.

“She’s just, so kind yanno? And I know that you’re probably thinking she’s too pretty or nice for me but, I don’t plan to act on it. I don’t want to destroy our friendship over this, but I've loved her for a while now. I love her laugh, her eyes. She’s so kind to everyone, you know?” He continues to ramble for a few minutes whilst you sit still, focusing most of your energy on not crying right now. Instead, the strength to interject conjures itself.

“That’s great Spencer. I’m happy you know how it feels to love someone, even under painful circumstances. Believe me, I know how you feel, I’ve been there.” You have his knee a reassuring squeeze before sluggishly attempting to stand, but Spencer grabs your wrist softly.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s late, Spencer… I need to go home.” Glancing at the clock, it read 5:07, the sun would be rising soon and you’d love nothing else but to cry in your own bed and sleep the Sunday away. He pulls you down to the couch once more before shifting to sit and face you.

“You don’t have to go, you can stay here tonight… I mean this morning…?” He looks at you with a tender gaze that makes your heart ache after his confession not even two moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d stay in his bed whilst he took the couch, an arrangement he absolutely insisted on, and you held little resistance to. Your main self control impulse was being kept in check from asking him to join you. If you hadn’t felt on the brink of breaking down in sobs, you wouldn’t have even thought about it. But tonight, you learned that not only Spencer’s love was unrequited, it was also no where near directed to you. Reality checks hurt, and are dealt with best in bed, in the dark. Therefore, the shake of your head takes him off guard as you silently move to put on your shoes. Spencer follows behind you

“I can’t stay tonight sorry Spencer, I said I’d take my grandma to church-“ a blantant lie, she lived in Texas. You hoped he didn’t know that. He shook his head though.

“I don’t want you to get a taxi at this time, why don’t you stay here and I’ll drive you tommorow?” He’s worried of course and you sigh. Shaking your head once more, why was he so caring? He was now rambling statistics about kidnappings and murders of women at this time of day, knowing his relentless efforts weren’t in vain as you were weak to his efforts. You gave into him.

“Fine! Fine…” you take a deep breath and rub your eyes, hoping he’s interpreting how red they are as sleep depravation, rather than the effort holding back a flood of tears. “I’ll just cancel tomorrow...” you lie again, quickly moving to his bedroom door, him in tow, not giving him the opportunity to reply as you flop onto the bed facing away from spencer. He watched you with a furrowed brow, but follows the regular routine you had both settled into when you stay. He grabs a pillow and a blanket, and presses a small kiss to your forehead before grabbed his book off of his nightstand. However, already heartbroken enough, you can’t handle that ‘friendly’ forehead kiss and so you purposely pulled the duvet over your head. However, it didn’t stop him from pressing a small kiss to the duvet, you could feel the bed dip where he leaned on the matress, of course he wouldn’t care about a stupid duvet.

10 minutes is how long you wait before you finally let out a quiet sob. Luckily, they’re mostly hushed by the thick duvet that’s still wrapped around your head, and you bring your hand up to muffle the rest of the sound as you cry over Spencer Reid. The smell of coffee and patchouli is thick on his duvet, a normal comfort contorted into a terror that spurs another soft cry. You stay like that until you fall asleep, where you end up sleeping till 3 pm.

You awake to a sandwich on the side table, accompanied by a glass of orange juice. Spencer left a note reading “JJ asked if I’d help her with something, be back before 4.” Ignoring the sandwich, you made as quick of an exit as you could. Unaware of the tears stains you had left in Reid’s pillow….

Of course, you eventually healed from that. Neither relationship had ever come to fruition after all. That is why now, after how ever many years of friendship, you were going to be bold. You were going to tell him how you really felt. In a moment of sentimentality, had bought a collection of various romantic era poetry, and wrote your own little addition asking him on a date, as a call back to that intimate night, and with hope to rewrite that memory for yourself. Nothing could go wrong, you and Spencer had be great, as great as you could be whilst dealing with psycho killers.

Arriving at the office, you had no time to drop the book off onto his desk. Hotch called the team into the conference room with a morose look, that made your face pale.

There, Spencer stood in front of the team, looking disheveled and sleep deprived was the last crack in the dam of emotion for you. He looked so small, so fragile. Not meeting anyone’s eye, speaking like he’s in a trance. He’s asking for the teams help.

Help to find his kidnapped girlfriend.

You could’ve been sick right then and there, and you actually almost were. The speed your stomach dropped at this new reveltaion was enough to make you excuse yourself, hand over your mnouth, face pale. Unsure if it was due to the shock, the heartbreak, the anxiety, or maybe a mix of all there, you excuse yourself from the room. Your heart aches that you left so suddenly, but you couldn’t help this obviously. The run to the ladies room was quick, as you burst into a stall. Vomiting was never elegant, and the same was so in work. After a few moments you cleaned the corners of your mouth with a tissue before leaning back and grabbing your phone from your pocket. A text from Emily on your screen

“You okay?”

Nope. I was going to confess my love in a very embarrassing way and admit that Reid admitting he had a girlfriend made you literally, throw up from... A shitstorm of emotions. Drafting a quick excuse, you send her a message back. Within a second of your message, another agent from a desk nearby had seen you running to the bathroom, and brought you your bag as an act of kindness. She thought you might not feel well and would want something and was gone as quickly as she arrived, wishing you well. Thankful for her kindness, you quickly cleaned yourself up before grabbing your phone once more.

You love Spencer. So, so much. So much that you can't, in good conscience, work this case without fear of conflict of intrest. But not wanting to share this, you decide that food poisioniong was a better excuse and head home, apologising to the team over text, and wishing them good luck. Of course, the team were pre occupied with finding Maeve, Garcia filled you in, so there wasn't much resistence to your absence.

The speed that events transpired, however, made you relieved that you hadn't dropped the book off on spencers desk this morning.

A few hours pass after the incident, you were sitting at home watching some mind numbing reality T V Show, trying to numb the heartbreak that ached within your core. You were a few seconds away from dissasociating when there was a knock to the door. Debating the practicality of ignoring it, you decide not to thinking that it was perhaps a member of the team. You were wrong however, when you open the door to a small brunette.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, I broke down outside and i was just wondering if I could use your phone to call roadside assitance? My phone literally just died!" She looked exhasberated, and exhausted. Taking pityyou nod and let her inside

"Sure, let me just grab it for you. You can wait in here." Turning your back on, you went to grab your phone from the sofa you had just been curled up on. Before you could take two steps, you felt a heavy weight at the back of your head.

Momentairly your vision turned black. Trying to regain your footing, you spin the meet the girl who was now holding the metalic decrative bowl that you palced your keys into. Before you could form another thought, she hit you once more. Finally knocking you out.

By the time you came to, you couldn't help but feel the hard pounding radiating through your skull. Your vision was blurry, only slightly making out some figures in front of you. One of your eyes couldn't open all the way either, as if stuck shut. Memory of your attack came back in bits, but you were unable to focus though. Definetly concussed to some degree. Slowly, you attempted to move your hand to your eye, only to discover that you were tied tightly to a chair.

After a few moments of your semi concious state, you could make out the voice of a woman in front of you.

"Y/N... Y/N wake up... Y/N?" A soft voice ushered you slowly out of you daze, and finally you focused on the woman. She was also tied up. She was brunette, with soft features that matched her voice. Weakly you aknowledged her

"Where... Where are we?"

"I... I dont know... But help is coming. I know that." You looked at her for a moment, trying to recognise her.

"How do you know my name?" Theres a resistance to your voice, though weak.

"Spencer's told me about you." She smiled, your stomach dropped.

"You're... You're Maeve?" Nodding in response, she began to speak before beiung cut off by the sudden apperance of the small brunette. She slamed the door shut before she entered. She began to bark demands, you learnt her name was Diane. She berated you about your feelings for spencer, teasing you and Maeve. Succesfully breaking your heart more.

Then, a buzzer sounded.

"Oh. Here he is now." Diane barked orders through the phone and slowly, Spencer came into view. Breath catching in your chest, you were unable to look at him, knowing he wasn't here for you. His arms up as Diane pointed her gun at him

"Im here now. We made a deal." His voice was broken. "Let them go."

"I will. But first i need you all to hear something." She reached to the table behind her, and procured a book. The very same book you had intended to give to Spencer just this morning.

"No. No that's nothing please-" You plead despertly, trying to convince the woman to have any modicum of mercy. Spencer glanced at you softly. Your beggign was interupted by Diane opening the books dedication page, that you had written a poem on

"The smell of coffee, and your furrowed brow, An instant smile that inspire, How could i ever hide my longing desire To place a kiss to that brow To fill your cup, and hold thy hand

Lounging and talking, for you do not know How dearly my love is rooted In your voice, your home, from my heart to yours Through danger, i'd die through strife i'll hold Through it all i shall hold thy hand

I'll read to you, if you'll read to me To be in your heart is a future i'd like to see So Spencer I ask, May I be yours, as you have been mine?" Diane recited. At this point, you were sobbing silently, unable to meet the gazee of anyone. Diane had a diabolical smile on her face as she teased all of you, feeling satisfied that you had been humiliated, she turned her attention to Maeve. Focusing your attention to dampen your sobs was your prioty right now. After all, Maeve wasn't the only girl here in danger.

In truth, you were foucinsing on anything other than Spencer's outpouring of love for Maeve.

Your attention was finally caught again when Diane grabbed Maeve, holding a gun to her head. Spencer pleaded for her life.

"Take me instead" He pleaded. Setting Diane off once more, in fury, holding the gun to both her and Maeves head.

You didn't expect ehr to pull the trigger.

You scremaed and tried to wiggle your way free from your constraints as the team rushed in. Spencer dropped to his knees, watching as the blood of both women combined, and slowly crept across the wooden floor. The team were in shock for a moment, before someone untied you. Quickly wisking you to an ambulance ready outside.

There were no words for the cocktail of emotions you felt. Apparently, according to Emily, Diane had decided to target you after discovering your closeness to Reid. She wanted to leave as much wreckage in her wake as possible. The team had been alerted to your dissapearance when Penelope had called you 34 times and you hadn't answered. She hacked into your doorbell camera and discovered the footage of Diane taking you, where Derek and Emily had discovered the struggle between you.

You had been assigned mandatory leave of 2 months and was thankful for the break.

A month and a half goes by wihtout a word from Spencer. Of course, you weren't surprised. After what had happened, you knew he would seclude himself. Normally, you'd would be there for him. But not now. It was imposssible for you with both the trauma of that night, and also the humiliation that your love confession was read by a psychopath who moments later, murdered his girlfriend.

You werent sure you'd ever be able to face him again.

Of course, heartbreak and trauma are never a good combonation. You had been neglecting yourself slightly, so dragging yourself to the shower felt like much more of a chore. Without dwelling on the past, the tried your best to focus on the song playing whilst you scrubbed your scalp, taking your agression out that way. When you eventually emerged from the bathroom, you put on a fresh set of pyjamas and made your way to the living room. Before you could sit, there was alight tapping on the door.

Since the incident, you were wary of unexpected visitors. Spencer would interject with a fact about PTSD and try to calm you down, but you try to shake off the thought. Instead, you do whatyou shouldve done that day, and open the phones app to look throguh the camera. There stood Spencer. Thinner, languid and visibly exhausted. A pang hit in your chest before you debated answering. Giving in though, chest hurting more at the thought of him ebing alone right now in this state.

Gingerly, you unlock the various locks you had had installed, and open the door slightly, only peeking your head out of the small gap.

"Spencer?" He looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours. His eyes were dull and red from the amount of tears you were sure he ahd shed.

"Can i come in?" His voice was weaker than youd imagined, but you stepped to the side. Once more pushing aside any of your own feelings inf avour of his, as usual.

He made his way to his usual spot on the couch, you sit on the further end, unsure where you stood with him anymore. As you sat, his eyes met yours in confusion, usually youd be sat right next to him. "Are you okay?" It seemd a silly question from him, given the current situation. All you did was nod silently in response, pulling your knees to your chin. There was a few moments of silence before Spencer toutched your arm, making you look over to meet his pleading gaze.

"Im sorry..." Was all he said. Without realising, you let out the tears you had been holding, you shook off his hand so that you coulkd wipe your eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." You didn't want to have this conversation. "You didn't know."

"But-"

"You didn't know. And it doesn't matter." Your voice was more forceful than intended. This isn't a discussion you wanted to have. Not now. Not after Maeve, you weren't an emotional rebound. You weren't going to fill the void of Maeve in his heart.

"You're my friend. I was being innaprpiate im sorry. It was silly."

Spencer has a pensive look on his face, his brow furrowed but lip wobbling in an attempt to surpess your rejection.

"Y/N no, no we aren't avoiding this..." He spoke tearfully "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because there was always someone else!" You surprised yourself at your outburst. Clamping a shocked hand on your mouth you tried to hold back a loud sob. Spencer was stunned

"Someone... else?" He was confused, obviously. He never considered himself an avid dater, and you only knew about maeve fr a day before...

Plucking up any modicum of courage you had, you took a deep breath.

"Lila Archer. JJ. And..." You didn't want to speak her name, but the absence didn't dull the obvious pang to spencers heart.

"But. But they were years apart... I dont understand?"

"It takes courage spencer... And when that courage is destroyed, it takes time to build up once more..." Staring at a spot on the rug, you began absent mindendly picking at your nails, a habit you had when anxious.

Spencer noticed this and grabbed your hands to stop you. A gesture that would have comfoted you before, but now makes you jump. He holds them tightly between his and pulls you to face him.

His eyes were still pfilled with despair for Maeve but, he looked at you so, so softly. So gently that you felt your heart flutter like it did only 2 months ago.

"I wish you told me..." His voice broke, tears spilling from eyes slowly. Reanimating your own tears you begin to shake your head, pulling your hands from his and standing, walking away from him.

"No spencer... No not now... We can't." You sob. folding your arms, avoiding his stare.

He stands and rushes to your side grabbing your shoulders, making you meet his gaze once more.

"Why?" he begs "Why can't we?" His voice is broken once more "I love you, please. I love you too!"

Breaking from his hold you walk away from him once more, towards your front door.

"It isn't right Spencer..." You mutter softly "Not by you, or me... Or Maeve..." Reaching for the door handle, you take another shakey breath before pulling your front door open. "I think it's best you leave."

Spencer is silent, pleading with you to change your mind. He doesn't say a word though, simply wipes his eyes before silently walking through your door. Giving you one last despearte look before you force yourself to close the door behind him.

The rest of your leave was spent heartbroken, sobbing alone in your bed.

[bet-on-me-13]

Dr's Assistant Danny

So, Danny has to run away from Amity after deciding to tell his parents about his powers. They acted like they accepted him, but when his back was turned they shot him with one of their Inventions and dragged him into the Lab for Study.

They think he's been taken over by a Ghost and decide to be "Surgeons" by opening him up and removing the Ghost by hand. Throughout all of this, they are just telling Danny that they are qualified doctors and can definitely do this perfectly. But they don't even use Anesthesia, and don't know the first thing about Surgery. But their delusions of being perfect Doctors have taken a hold of them, and they can't even comprehend the idea that they are doing it wrong.

After a week of "Surgeries", they mess up and forget to lock his Cell, and Danny manages to escape, hopping on a Bus headed to New Jersey.

He ends up in Gotham, hiding in an Alley to avoid Civilians and to bandage himself up. Thankfully his parents stitched him up fairly well after the last session, but he is still really hurt. And the cuffs restricting his powers don't help either.

He passes out in the Alley and wakes up in a Doctors Office. He panics, thinking that his parents found him and took him back to the Lab. Thankfully, the resident Dr rushes in to calm him down.

It's Dr Leslie Thompkins, and she really wants her patient to stop struggling thank you very much.

She manages to calm him down, and explains that she found him in the Alley, but that he was seriously injured. He was out for 4 days.

He explains what he can, that he told his parents that he had powers and that they didn't take it well. Not the Ghost thing, but he does explain that his parents could charitably be referred to as "Mad Scientists", and Dr Thompkins figures it out from there.

Since he doesn't have a place to stay, she let's him stay at her place. It's not much, but it's enough for 2 people.

After a few days, he starts helping out in the Clinic as a way to repay her.

After a few weeks, he starts taking on the bigger jobs and starts learning about medical aid

A few months in, and both Danny and Leslie realize that he has basically become her Personal Assistant. So she trains him in the legitimate way, teaching him all she can about being a Doctor and basically everything he would have learned in Medical School, which really helps with his trauma over the whole "constant unethical surgery from people who claimed to be licensed professionals" thing.

He still has those Restraining Cuffs on, they could never figure out how to take them off and they were basically unbreakable, but he was fine on his own.

And a note to add to this is that all of this is taking place in the early Years of Batman, like Years 1 and 2. So it's certainly a shock when Danny walks in for work and sees The Batman lying on a Cot.

Over the many following years, Danny gets used to his life in Gotham. He managed to contact Jazz, and his friends as well, even if they needed to keep it very secret for fear of his parents finding out.

He manages to get on friendly terms with most of the Bat Family from their many, many, many visits to the Clinic.

He never does reveal his past to them, he knows that they would never not poke their noses into it, so he tried to keep it on the down low around them. He even hid his Cuffs all these years. (He doesn't want to attract his parents attention)

But that all changed one day.

He messes up. He accidently calls Jazz outside of their scheduled safe times and his parents just so happen to be visiting her new house at the time. They pick up the call for her, and Danny, not knowing it's not Jazz on the other end, says "Hey Jazz, it's Danny. Just wanted to let you know that I'll he busy with work for a while so I won't be able to call as often".

When he gets no response, he gets concerned and asks "Jazz? You there?"

His parents immediately begin to trace the Call, but before they can get an exact location Danny wises up and hangs up. Buts it's too late, his Parents know he's in Gotham now, even if they don't know exactly where.

Danny doesn't know that they tracked him down though, but he quickly figures it out when Red Hood is rushed into the Clinic a week later after being attacked by "A big guy in an orange jumpsuit with a laser gun", who was joined by "A tiny lady in a blue jumpsuit with a baseball bat"

The Drs Fenton reached Gotham and immediately began tracking any Ecto-Signatures they could find. And Red Hood just so happened to be the closest one.

Now Danny has to find a way to deal with his parents without his powers. Since the Anti-Ecto Laws are still in effect, they aren't technically doing anything Illegal, and their Government Contracts would protect them either way.

He needs to figure out how to get rid of them. Due to the high concentration of Ectoplasm in Gotham, there are many unknowing Liminals in the City. His parents could end up attacking many innocent Civilains in search for him, maybe even subjecting them to the same things he was subjected to.

The only way he can think to do that is to give himself up.

Of course he knows Dr Leslie would disagree, but before she can stop him he sneaks out in the middle of the night, leaving a note thanking her for all that she had done for him over the years. It explains that the people who attacked Red Hood are his infamous Parents, and that they are searching for him. They could end up hurting alot of people if they stay, so he needs to nip this in the bud and is going to turn himself in to them.

She immediately takes the note to Batman.

She still vividly remembers the state she found Danny in. He still has the V-Shaped Scar on his chest from his experiences with his parents, and she'll be damned if she' going to let that happen to him again. (She kind of adopted him as her son a while ago)

She tells them everything. How she found him in the Alley, his injuries, how she nursed him back to health, his story about Meta-Hating Mad Scientist Parents, the unbreakable Cuffs he always hid, all of it.

Now it's a race to find Danny and save him from his Parents again.

[mncxbe]

#SMILE FOR THE CAMERA

𝑫𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝒄𝒘: in which reader is an erotica photographer who goes at the same uni as Denji// spicy pics, power imbalance, biting/ marking, nsfw, denji with a collar. 𝒂/𝒏: i'm experimenting a bit with different ideas and concepts

when you scouted Denji on campus a few days ago you didn't actually expect him to show up for the shoot. but there he was, awkwardly standing at your doorstep with his hands in his pockets, forcing that silly smile of his.

"hey so... i'm here for the pictures. dunno if you remember me. i'm Denji"

stepping aside, you let the blond enter your apartment. he looked around with curious eyes, taking in his surroundings: your place was neat, modern, nothing too expensive but certainly impressive for a college student. "yea, i remember you" you smiled, motioning him to take a seat on the leather couch"make yourself comfortable. i'll bring you a coffee and the consent form and walk you through the process."

Denji nodded, his gaze lingering on your frame as you made your way to the kitchen. you needn't even see him to know that he was shamelessly trying to look under your skirt. the coffee machine buzzed as you started it and you looked back at the blond.

he was staring at his shoes, mindlessly tapping his foot on your fluffy carpet and picking at his nails. cute... you thought, mentally praising yourself for scouting him.

Denji was one of those pretty guys who weren't even aware of how charming they were. with his dumb smile and scruffy hair he looked just like a puppy– and that was exactly what you needed for your photographs.

once you returned with his coffee you started explaining all the details: what the shoot entailed and when he'd receive the payment, you told him that you'd also use props (he didn't comment on that) and that the pictures would be sold to private buyers so there was no risk of them ending up online. Denji simply nodded, occasionally sipping his coffee as his eyes scanned the consent form. you were fairly sure he didn't even read half of it before signing his name in the corner.

"good, that's all, right? i'm ready to start when you are." he beamed and you walked him to your makeshift studio. it was a large room with boxes and racks filled with clothes and props- masks, leashes, cuffs, ropes– all that you needed for your shoots. Denji's face flushed at the sight and he looked at you over his shoulder. "are we gonna use all that?"

it took all your self restraint not to roll your eyes at him. did he really not pay attention to what you just told him? "no, Denji, we won't use everything. i'll figure out during the shoot what works and what doesn't, but let's take it easy. take off your shirt for now."

the blond hastly discarded his washed up t-shirt on the floor and crosses his arms over his chest. You were stunned to see how toned his body was, but it was a pleasant surprise. setting up your camera, you took a few experimental shoots, adjusting the lights.

Denji's excitement and confidence wavered when you started photographing him. he had no idea how to sit or stand or what to do with his hands and seeing you in front of him certainly didn't help his situation. to ease up the tension, he forced a smile, trying to make conversation.

"can I ask you something? i was wondering what made you choose me? i mean, i'm not the most handsome guy around."

there it was, the question you hated answering most. all guys that you work with were under the impression that there was something special about them. in a way, there was, but you never told them the truth, just like you wouldn't admit it to Denji. after all, how could you tell him that you didn't choose him for his looks, but for his attitude? he was the ideal model: compliant, a bit shy and obviously attracted to you. half hoping that you'd sleep with him after the shoot or at least let him take you out on a date, he was eager to please, to earn your praise, to give himself up on a silver platter for a pat on the head. and you could tell all that just by the way he looked at you with that imploring expression.

"i really like your hair" you said instead "and don't worry about your appearance, making you look good is my job. i work with average and make it spectacular."

your answer seemed to satisfy his curiosity for he smiled, looking down at his body "ah I see. it's good then"

from then you officially started the shoot.

as expected, Denji did everything you asked him to. he did a good job hiding his nervousness, swallowing the lump in his throat whenever you stepped closer to him or put him in different positions. the photos weren't that explicit, he'd expected way worse, so little by little, you eased him into the shoot. his tense muscles relaxed and the pictures got better. that was the key to a good shoot, making them feel comfortable enough to give you what you wanted.

"okay... these are great. you're doing a good job, Denji" you hummed and the blond's cheeks flushed red at your praise. "i wanna try something different now. get on your knees"

Denji kneeled, his gaze following you as you scrambled through a box of props. he tried not to stare at your thighs but hell, they looked so pretty in those fishnets and that tight skirt you wore hugged your curves so perfectly. he could feel his pants tighten at the sight but he quickly regained his composure when you turned to face him. you closed the distance between you two, crouching in front of him. "i want you to put this on" you smiled softly, handing him a black collar.

a trace of uncertainty flashed on his features but he eagerly complied, unbuckling the collar and wrapping it around his neck. you could feel his rapid pulse when you helped him fasten the collar, his ragged breaths hot against your cheek. "is it comfortable?"

"yea, super okay." he deadpanned, his voice a bit shaky. you attached the leash to the metal ring of the collar and wrapped it around your left palm, giving it an experimental tug. Denji huffed, a hushed mewl spilling from his lips.

"s-shit sorry for that..." he fumbled, blushing even more but before he could finish his apology you lifted your foot off the floor and placed it on his shoulder, shifting closer to him. your heel dug painfully into his skin but he couldn't care less about it. his breath grew shaky as the inner part of your thigh brushed against his cheek. "what are you doing?"

"trying out some new angles. you look good like this." you answered in a level voice, though you couldn't deny that seeing Denji like this had an effect on you. he did little to hide how much he was enjoying himself: his eyes were glazed over, droopy, a dumb smile etched onto his lips. from where you were standing you could clearly make out the outline of the bulge in his pants.

"don't you think we're a bit too close? i mean, is this professional?" he mumbled between the clicks and blinks of your camera, asking such an innocent question as if he weren't about to cum in his pants. professionalism my ass you wanted to retort but you bit your tongue, knowing that he was simply trying to make conversation and calm his nerves.

"some of the buyers like it when there's a feminine presence in the pictures too. if it helps with anything, just think of me as a prop."

"I see..." he mused, moaning softly as you gave a leash another tug, making him look up at the lens. "what other stuff do they like?"

Denji rested his head on your thigh, peering up at you. his brown eyes looked so pretty in this light and you could feel your stomach churn. you shouldn't be attracted to him, it was one of your ground rules– keep your work and private life separate. still, maybe indulging him wouldn't be that bad... it was just a simple conversation.

"all kinds of stuff" you answered, adjusting your position so that his chin rested on your navel, his head tilted up at the camera. he looked just like a puppy. "everyone is into something different, some prefer close ups, others full body shorts with light props, most of them aren't that much into the extreme stuff like full on bondage..."

your voice drifted off for a moment but Denji's gaze never left yours "anyway, as a general rule, the photos that sell the best are the expressive ones"

"expressive how?" he asked meekly and you snapped a few more pictures before answering. "I guess people want to buy emotions. they don't buy a portrait just because the model is pretty, they want to be able to feel what you feel. that's why more intimate pictures sell so well"

you took a step back and Denji quickly grasped your thigh, pulling you closer. you wanted to slap his hand away but something prevented you from doing it. he seemed... contemplative? his gaze traced your body as he caressed your skin with his thumb, toying with the mesh fabric of your stockings "so I should show emotion?" he eventually asked, letting out a dry chuckle "and here I thought i had to act like a tough guy."

without a warning, Denji hooked your leg over his shoulder and looked back at you again. "think we can take more photos like this?"

"s-sure" you said hesitantly, not knowing what he had in mind. you yelped when the blond suddenly bit down on your thigh, his sharp teeth piercing through your stockings. his tongue flicked over the indent marks as he sucked on your skin, leaving red marks behind. when he looked back at you his once shy, calculated expression was gone, replaced by a lustful one. you quickly snapped a picture and checked to see how to turned out– it was the best so far and you instantly knew it'd make good money.

"shit, Denji. keep doing that" you urged him and he obeyed, returning to kissing and licking your skin. his hands gripped your thigh, kneading your soft flesh as his mouth worked its way up to the edge of your skirt then slipped under.

you knew you should put an end to this before it got too far but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Denji's hands came to rest on your hips as he pushed up your skirt and licked a stripe of your clothed cunt, his hungry eyes locked on yours. you almost dropped the camera at the feeling, your body shuddering lightly as your fingers tangled in his hair. "fuck–" you huffed and Denji moaned into your pussy, dragging his tongue along the fabric of your panties.

"is this alright?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper and you could feel yourself getting ten times wetter. "y-yea, it's good" you babbled out, struggling to keep yourself steady on your feet. he looked up at you wish a lovesick smile as he pulled down your panties and you placed the camera back on its tripod.

the shoot was the last thing on your mind as you grinded on his face, your face scrunching up in pleasure. you got all the photos you needed anyway, you put in some good, honest work. why not reward yourself a little? pushing back the nagging thoughts in your mind telling you not to break one of the few rules you set for yourself, you allowed Denji to work you up to your high.

the rest of the evening was like a fever dream. if someone were to tell you that's you'd end up fucking Denji by the end of the night you'd laugh in their face. still, you could hardly help yourself when he was so eager to please you. so you simply got carried away and crossed some personal boundaries, which resulted in one of the best nights of your life. but you felt a bit bad for him, he was a sweet guy who deserved more than a hookup.

that's probably why you agreed to give him your number and go on a date with him before he left and offered to send him some of the pictures from last night (something that you never did since you didn't want your work to end up in some weird corner of the internet). yea, it was surely just pity, cause there was no way that you actually caught feelings for Denji after that night... right?

[obsessive-valentine]

Sleepy time with the yanderes

I’ve got bad writers block so have this in the mean time, sorry guys :/

Barbarian - You wake up to thunder and find yourself wrapped up in many layers of fur, more than you had fallen asleep with, you are warm and snug and cannot see even your hand infront your face, all you hear is the pitter patter of rain on the tent roof and the quiet snores of the barbarian next to you. You almost instantly fall back asleep.

Childhood Friend Fae - The room is dimly lit by the small pile of logs in the fireplace -you hear them crackle and pop- watching the dying flames dance as your eyes get heavy, you can also hear him flip a book page as he reads beside you. By the time the fireplace dies you find sleep -he blows out the candle he was using to read before joining you under the covers and snaking a arm around your waist. “Sleep well love”

Fisherman - Aged handmade knitted and patchwork blankets rub against you, laying your head on him it rises and falls with his chest and a muffled heartbeat and hand that rubs your back lulls you to sleep. Your breaths synced a long time ago.

Vampire - You keep the dim table lamp on to chase away the shadows of the unfamiliar room, looking around at the old paintings and decor, the wind whistles through the old windows and doors and the luxurious silk sheets do little to comfort you; however the almost inaudible violin he plays on the other side of the manor reaches your ears and comforts you enough to find sleep.

Platonic mad-scientist - You lay on the small leather sofa in his study, cheek squished against a pillow and fast asleep, with his back to you he intensely writes at his desk. It’s dark outside but the room is fairly lit, you still however found sleep to the sound on the pen and his muttering. He shuts his book and drops the pen, you hear the faint steps in your subconscious of him coming to take you to bed. “Let’s get you to bed”

Classic Yandere - The cold cuff stubbornly hugs your ankle a harsh contrast to the gentle fingers that trace patterns on your arm, the murmurs of the tv and it’s light dimly bouncing off the walls making the walls glow and flicker aids in your quest to find sleep. You fall asleep faster than usual due to emotional exhaustion from the long day. His eyes peel away from the film to glance at you seeing you asleep he doesn’t stop tracing patterns on your arms. “I love you”

Hockey player - He convinced you to stay over his house for the night, you both talked and laughed till you fell asleep the house now quiet aside from the sound of cars and people out late on the streets that slipped in through the window. He dreamed of where he’d take you for the first date.

Changing husband - Your stomach is full from the dinner he helped you cook and you felt content with your day, at peace, and most importantly -in love. With his arm draped over you he dozed in something similar to the sleep you experience but dreamless and light, he was almost silent aside from some shuffling letting you know he’s still very much alive. The comforting arm was all you needed to fall asleep.

[charliemwrites]

Girl rage, girl rage, girl rage!!

CW for Simon being a Jerk and a Creep, mentions of violence and murder, and kidnapping.

One time in high school, there was a boy that wouldn’t leave you alone. You gave him a million chances to knock it off, growing more and more hostile, snapping your teeth. The inappropriate touches in the hall, the lewd comments at lunch breaks, the fucking pictures. Nothing salacious, just long shots of you from afar, trying to go about your day.

One day he reached for your chest and you snapped two of his fingers. His parents wailed that you ruined his rugby career. You told them he should get better at football.

When you’re annoyed, you crack the knuckles of those same fingers on your own hand.

It’s the first thing you do when you wake up in a bare, grey basement, laid on a thin cot on the ground. Pop, pop. Recalibrating your foggy mind.

You don’t quite remember how you got here. Last clear thing is the bar. Doesn’t matter how you got here though, at least for the moment - just that you are here. And you don’t want to be.

You’re handcuffed, chain looped through an exposed pipe above your head. You clink it once, twice. Decide it’s fairly sturdy and take stock of everything else.

Your stomach is a bit tight with nausea - drug induced, you figure. Ugh. And your head aches, nothing a glass of water won’t fix.

But all your clothes are intact, no ache between your thighs or burgeoning bruises on your breasts. No shoes, though. Bummer, you liked those.

You crack the knuckles on your other hand; pop, pop.

You think of the scent of cheap whiskey, shattered glass, policemen wrapping you in a shock blanket. Remember your date chocking on his own vomit in a dark alley, then someone much bigger and stronger grabbing you as you tried to leave.

Hm.

The pipes are warm. You settle back against them and wait.

—

You don’t scream when Simon enters the basement. Don’t make a single peep. You shift against the pipes, tucking your feet under you as he approaches. Your eyes are so big, rounded as you peer up at him through your lashes.

“Such a smart girl,” he coos, “staying quiet for me. Or are you just that scared?”

You blink at him, the tiniest indent dimpling your bottom lip from your teeth. He crouches down in front of you, arms balanced on his knees. You’re curled up so small. He wants to bundle you in his lap, tuck you away.

“It’s alright, little one,” he soothes. “There’s no need to be scared.”

You twitch a bit, the metal cuffs clicking together. He flicks his eyes to them, sighs.

“Those are so that you don’t do something stupid,” he explains patiently. “Like you did earlier.”

A little furrow of confusion creases your brows. He exhales, amused despite himself. So precious, his girl. Like you can’t fathom why he would be upset with you.

“Going out with a strange man.”

He tuts, feels that black rage simmering again, same he felt when he realized you and that slime were no longer at the bar.

“He almost hurt you in that alley,” he reminds, “had he not been so drunk he tripped over his own fucking feet.”

He takes a second to breathe, fingers twitching. They feel too dry, too clean. He was so worried about getting you home that he had no time to bother taking care of that scum.

“I tried to let you have your fun, baby. I really did. But I can’t — I can’t anymore. The world is far too dangerous.” He brushes the backs of his fingers down your cheek, coos at the little shudder that runs through you. “And you’ve proven that you can’t take care of yourself.”

Your lips part. Shock, confusion, protest. It doesn’t matter, he’s more distracted feeling the soft give of your plush bottom lip beneath his thumb, bitten pink.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he soothes. “I’ll take care of you from now on.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your head to your arm. He hums.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. This is for the best, I promise.”

You sniffle a bit, blink wet eyes open. Wet your lips with the tip of your pretty pink tongue.

“What… what do I call you?” you ask, voice soft and raspy.

Oh, such a sweet thing. Such a sweet, clever girl. You’re going to be so, so good for him.

“Just Ghost for now, luv. Let me get you some water, you’ve earned it.”

—

You exhale slow and soft, counting every fourth heartbeat. If you don’t, you’ll start trying to break things. The smart money is on your bones giving before that stupid pipe. So. Breathing it is.

You’ve never felt out of control in anger. Everything is always so sharp and clear, you think and move with a precision you usually can’t coax from mind or body.

This… Ghost, though.

It was a pleasant surprise that he didn’t realize what you did in the alley. Too dark, perhaps. Too quiet. Perhaps he thought you were fleeing in fear.

It’s an advantage you can’t squander. He’s much bigger than you, much stronger. Carries himself with posture and purpose reminiscent of military or former military bearing. There’s a physicality to the way he moves that echos violence.

You know that you will only get one proper shot to escape. There is no point wasting it on shouting and cursing and snarling. Even if he did only consider it bluster and bark, it would plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Make him careful and conscious of any slip ups.

Sometimes, rabid animals appear friendly or docile. The virus gets a new victim close enough to turn and bite, spreading and infecting.

You run your tongue over your teeth, imagine the taste of blood if you’d bitten through his thumb like you wanted to. Inhale and exhale again, start the counter over.

Pause to resist another sneeze, blinking past watery eyes and sniffling it away. Christ, he couldn’t have at least cleaned the basement before chaining you up down here? Could barely focus on his ridiculous monologue through the allergies.

Not that you think you missed much; and you’re sure you’ll be hearing it again.

He’s just like every other man you’ve ever killed, you muse, settling in again. And it’ll be so, so sweet watching the blood bloom.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 3 MATCH 31

Karlach propaganda:

“Sweetest girl ever. She could throw you across a room. She can burn down a house. But she just wants a hug and to be cared about and to live her life.” 

“Definitively overused phrase but she's a golden retriever she's so cute!”

“She's the perfect woman!!! She's so nice and cute and silly and strong and wow I love girls”

"Karlach is the champion slave of one of the Devils in a layer of hell, and was sold to her by someone she trusted, and on TOP of that she is an experiment with an engine for a heart and she knows she’s going to die and is in fairly constant pain but DESPITE that she is relentlessly positive and outgoing and silly because her spirit cannot be fucking crushed no matter WHAT"

Wyll propaganda:

“He's such a good boy. He's kind and charming and has literally given up his soul to protect people. If you romance him in game he will sweep you off your feet and spout some of the most beautiful, poetic words you have ever heard. And he makes a damn fun dance partner too.”

“He's literally the fairytale prince romance of the game.  He sold his soul to save his home.  His father disowned him for it and still he persisted, still he decided to devote his life to helping others.  You meet him and he's teaching a bunch of kids how to defend himself.  He's been tasked with killing someone who he thought was a dangerous devil, but as soon as he realizes she's innocent and he's been missed he refuses to harm her even though he KNOWS it means he'll be punished.  He plans a romantic dance in the moonlight for you. He proposes to you. He spouts the most wonderful poetic compliments OFF THE CUFF.  What a guy.”

[coffeeghoulie]

Hiiii!! I love all of your fics, especially the way you write Swiss 😌😌😌

If you want to, could I ask for some fluffy Swiss content, just literally anything where he gets some kind of comfort lols!

Hell yeah, fluffy Swiss content. This does have a little bit of my personal lore for him that he doesn't go by Swiss until most of the way through his first tour, but that gets resolved fairly quickly.

About 1.4k of Aether and Mountain putting together Swiss's first summoning day present.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

The new multi-ghoul isn't as slick as he thinks he is, Aether notes. He sees the way his eyes trail when they pass by the jewelry stores on the off days spent exploring. How he locks on longingly at the delicate gold earrings and cuffs, shakes his head and moves on.

Aether pulls Mountain aside halfway through the tour, the Cardinal discussing something animatedly with the multi-ghoul.

"Do you see it, Mount?" Aether says, voice not quite a whisper. Mountain hums as he glances up from his book, shifting in his seat next to him. "Multi keeps looking like he wants them, but he never gets any."

"Right. He's not adorned, though I've seen he has the piercings for it," the earth ghoul says. He nudges one of his antlers against Aether's pronged horn. "I mean, Frit's pierced six ways to Sunday and he wears a couple rings in his braid. And if he came through a fire portal and survived, Multi might be the same way. Might be a fire ghoul thing."

"Wonder what happened to his jewelry, then," Aether says, not glancing up. From where he's talking to the Cardinal, he looks back at the two of them, gold eyes glinting. "He'd look good in it. Gold would be a good color on him."

Mountain agrees with a low hum. "I will keep it in mind. You want me to get the others involved?"

"Ooh, good idea. Keep it on the down low, though. I don't know how Multi'll react if we just. Spring this on him, you know?"

"Absolutely," Mountain agrees, turning a page with a rustle.

They spread the message to the others, Cirrus and Cumulus turning to each other with delighted grins, Rain and Dew nodding at each other, determined. It's slow going as to not arouse suspicion, but one by one, each ghoul slips aside to buy jewelry, various charms and rings, all in gold.

During that time, the multi-ghoul comes to the rest of the pack, a little skittish and completely out of character. "Figured it out," he breathes, scuffing his spat-covered shoe against the carpet of a green room in some venue. "I heard some of the humans calling me something and I want it to be mine. My name's Swiss."

Aether grins, grabs his shoulder kindly. "It's very nice to meet you, Swiss. Welcome to the pack again."

Swiss smiles, that blinding thing that has the full force of the sun behind it. The tour gets easier, now that he's coming into himself, exponentially more confident Up Top. But he still stares longingly when he thinks the rest of the ghouls aren't looking. Aether and Mountain share a knowing glance, knocking their shoulders together.

The tour ends a few days from the first anniversary of Swiss's summoning. Aether slips into each ghoul's room, cautiously collecting each offering. But even with his caution, the Cardinal pulls him aside.

"I hear you are collecting jewelry, eh?" Copia says, mismatched eyes scanning over Aether's face.

"Yes, Cardinal," Aether says, brow furrowing slightly. "For Swiss."

Copia nods and reaches into a pocket he didn't notice in his cassock. When he pulls his hand out, there's the glint of gold in the palm of his leather gloved-hand. "I would like to add to your collection. My own sort of welcome, si?"

Aether swallows, smiling. "Thank you, Cardinal."

"Ah, don't mention it," he grins, a little sheepishly. "Cannot have him think I am leaving him out, no?"

"Never," Aether says, reaching out to accept the earrings from him. As he gets a better look, his breath hitches at the sight of two delicately wrought gold grucifixes on French hooks, a tiny, sparkling ruby in the center of each inverted cross. "Cardinal. Thank you."

Aether makes sure he catches Swiss alone on his summoning day after dinner. Mountain's made a cake, and Dew had lit the candle in the center. The flame had glinted in his eyes, reflecting the glee there as he glanced throughout the pack, grinning.

Aether takes Swiss by the bicep as he heads out of the kitchen, Rain shooing him away from the dishes. He's gentle, knowing that Swiss is still a little bit jumpy and prone to snapping. But as it stands, Swiss just turns to face him with a question in his expression.

"We have something for you, Swiss," he says, voice low and even as he leads the multi ghoul to the common room. "The entire pack's been working on this for months, but don't feel that you have to accept it, okay?"

Swiss makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat as he lets himself be led by the bigger ghoul. Aether sits them both on one of the loveseats, opening the drawer on the end table and pulling out a package wrapped in tissue paper. He hands it to Swiss.

"For me?"

"Yes," Aether says. "We all pitched in for a summoning day gift."

Swiss takes a deep breath, trying to subtly rub his eye before he starts to unwrap it. The gold glints in his lap, and he covers his mouth with a big hand as he takes it in. "You- you got me-?" He can't finish his sentence.

Aether carefully sets his hand between Swiss's shoulderblades. "We noticed your piercings, and how you didn't wear any jewelry in them. The fire ghoul who used to be in our pack, Ifrit, wore a lot in the Prince's name. And since we know you came through a fire portal, we thought you might like some adornment."

"I- I'm not-" Swiss looks up, and Aether feels a horrified pit sink into his stomach at the distraught look on his face. His gold eyes are wet and red-rimmed. "I haven't- I haven't worn adornment for Him in- since my-" He cuts himself off, and Aether knows better than to push.

"You don't have to for our sake, though," Aether assures.

"No!" Swiss says, a little louder than he must mean, because he shrinks back a little bit. "I mean. I want to. Makes me a part of the pack officially. And if I'm serving Him, I may as well look it."

Aether smiles kindly, hand rubbing a small circle over his spine. "May I?" Aether asks, reaching for the pile of jewelry in his lap. Swiss nods and passes it over before sliding off of the loveseat. He sits himself between Aether's spread thighs.

He winds a cuff decorated like sprawling leaves and vines around one of his locs, threads a golden cloud charm through the end of another. A pair of studs shaped like suns go through a set of piercings in his cartilage, and the teardrop shaped ones go through the holes next to them. Aether shows him each piece, letting him decide if and where he wants it. Slowly, Aether adorns him with every piece of jewelry the pack had squirreled away, hoops and studs and dangling charms in elemental symbols and sigils, all glinting gold against his warm gray skin and dark hair.

All that's left are the grucifixes, and Aether gently shows them to Swiss, the inset rubies glinting in the warm lamplight. There's a long silence, and Aether worries that he might have offended him in some way.

"Yes," Swiss breathes. He tenses a moment before craning his neck to look up at Aether over his shoulder. "Actually, will you let me put them in?"

"Of course." He carefully puts the earrings into Swiss's palm. Aether pretends he can't hear as Swiss starts to whisper to himself as he threads each earring into the lowest piercing on each lobe. Tone quiet, reverent. His own soft prayer to the Prince Below.

It takes a moment, but Swiss eventually takes a deep breath and looks up. "Show me what it looks like?" he asks hopefully.

Aether stands and pulls Swiss to his feet. The two of them head to one of their bathrooms, and Swiss grins in the mirror over the sink. Aether's only known him for a year, and this is the first time he's seen him wearing jewelry, but he knows.

Aether smiles back at him. Swiss looks more like himself than he ever has.

[ink-splotch]

I ran across your reply in a post about Pippin’s version of Edge of Night, about how it was originally a happy song and he changed the lyrics and key to be sadder. Could you explain where he changed the lyrics? I can find plenty of sources for the changed version, but not for the original. Thanks!

Sure thing! In the book, the full version of the song goes like this. Frodo and his buds sing it as they hike across the Shire, before any of the bad stuff has really gone down at all:

Upon the hearth the fire is red, Beneath the roof there is a bed; But not yet weary are our feet, Still round the corner we may meet A sudden tree or standing stone That none have seen but we alone.   Tree and flower and leaf and grass,   Let them pass! Let them pass!   Hill and water under sky,   Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate, And though we pass them by today, Tomorrow we may come this way And take the hidden paths that run Towards the Moon or to the Sun.   Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,   Let them go! Let them go!   Sand and stone and pool and dell,   Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadows to the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight. Then world behind and home ahead, We'll wander back to home and bed.   Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,   Away shall fade! Away shall fade!   Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,   And then to bed! And then to bed!

In Denethor's hall, in the movie, Pippin sings an adaption of that song. In Doylian terms here, Peter Jackson chose to change the words and tone; in Watsonian terms, which I much prefer in this case, Pippin took this fairly cheerful walking song that Denethor demanded of him and turns it into something befitting the world that Denethor is creating, allowing, and abetting in his realm:

Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadow to the edge of night Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, All shall fade, all shall fade.

Pippin first removes the section "then world behind and home ahead/we'll wander back to home and bed," which denies Denethor the comfortable hope and domestic happy ending he was demanding of the hobbit.

Then, with that removal, the lines of "all shall fade, all shall fade" do a very changed duty in Denethor's hall than the "away shall fade! away shall fade!" in the original. Instead of mist and shade fading, pushed back by fire and bread, by the comforts of home and a warm bed, the rendition in Denethor's hall rings melancholy and tragic-- the fading of good things, the fading of life, of homes and paths and light, of good men like Faramir.

Knowing the original, it's made all the more rich in meaning by Denethor crunching through his bread and tomatoes, at home in the seat of his power. This place, its fire and lamps, its meat and bread, its good men (cut to Faramir riding toward certain doom) -- they will fade under the coming shadow (Pippin even exchanges "twilight" for "shadow" in his off-cuff rewrite). Pippin is mourning them and trying to rekindle some of that sorrow and that horror in Denethor's heart.

He's been ordered to sing the cheery songs of his people to please the cold echoing hall of his freezing-hearted, fallen man -- and so he does, and he makes the song instead about the foregone fading of Denethor's house. Love it! A+ Peregrin Took.

[squadmuse]

NSFW ALPHABET

THE LUKE ALVEZ EDITION

A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Luke is very caring and attentive after sex, sure to ask if you are okay and if you’re sore. Bubble baths and soapy showers after sex always happen with Luke. If you’re hungry, then he’ll either make you a small meal or order something in.

B - Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s body)

Luke loves his mouth and his upper arms, knowing how much they turn you on. His tongue is quite devilish and the dirtiest of words drip from his plush lips. On you, Luke loves your ass and breasts as he can’t choose. He loves holding and grabbing them as he fucks you in any position.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum basically…)

Luke loves cumming in your mouth, and on your face too. When you’re in a serious long term relationship however, Luke stops wearing a condom and comes to love cumming inside your pussy.

D - Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Luke loves hotel sex with you and only you. It’s not that he is particularly into exhibitionism but the added edge of potentially being caught & other guests hearing gets him so hard.

E - Experience (how experienced are they, do they know what they are doing?)

Luke isn’t as experienced as many think he is, but he certainly knows what he is doing and does it well. He’s great at oral sex too.

F - Favourite Position (again, pretty self explanatory…)

Luke knows it’s quite vanilla to some, but he adores missionary with you and getting to see your face & all your expressions.

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?)

Luke has a wicked sense of humour and sometimes he says something in bed that has the two of you laughing out loud. However he is also very serious and can be a man on a mission pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body, especially if he’s been away from you too long.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Luke is fairly groomed, he knows he has thick dark locks up top and so keeps on top of it down below too.

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Are they romantic?)

Luke is so very romantic, very doting and sweet. He loves being intimate with you in various ways, and making you feel like a goddess is his duty.

J - Jack Off (masturbation…)

It usually happens when he’s away on a case, or when Luke knows you’re not feeling up for sex due to your period or something and he doesn’t want to bother you - so it usually happens in the shower under hot steamy water. However when you walked in on him one time in the en-suite, you made him cum so quickly as you jacked him off and muttering the dirtiest things he’s ever heard.

K - Kink (what are their kink/s?)

Exhibitionism (to an extent), loves tying you up with his cuffs, ties etc. and Luke Alvez lives for you in itty bitty black lace lingerie (and if you do a striptease or lap dance to him, he’s putty in your hands)

L - Location (where are their favourite places to do the do?)

Shower sex, bedroom & living room, kitchen, hotel room & his car (when not anywhere too public)

M - Motivation (what turns them on, what gets them going?)

Luke gets so hard seeing you in black lace lingerie, pretty dresses and when you’re sticking up for yourself. Also whenever you speak dirty or tease him too. Luke also loves seeing you with Roxy, and when you come home after a run with her & you’re all sweaty, happy and exhilarated? Man is he wanting you.

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs?)

Luke won’t do anything too public, he also won’t hurt you or ever degrade you. He’s seen some awful sights in his career and it’s just something he’s unable to do. He’ll also never ever want to choke or do somnophilia with you.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill etc)

Oh Luke is so good at giving oral and always does it as foreplay before he fucks you. He is so attentive to your body and picks up each & every cue or clue your body gives him. But he also loves it so much when you do it back to him, feeling you suck him off so so well that it has him trying so hard to not cum right away.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough, soft and sensual?)

Luke is a sensual guy, he likes to have a passionate love life with you and his pace ruins you whatever way he does it. However again due to his work & what he sees, Luke can be extremely tender and soft as he wants to be more, do more than just make love. Drunk sex with Luke is usually a lot more fast & rough, almost hazardous and frantic.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often etc.)

Luke loves quickies with you, and sometimes with how unpredictable his hours are, it can be all he can give you for a week or more. So while he enjoys them because they’re with you, he isn’t that big a fan of them at the same time and much prefers to not.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Luke Alvez aka Adrenaline Junkie — he loves that rush that risky sex gives him. He won’t do anything too risky however as he’s a government official with the FBI. Experimentation happens more as your relationship develops in the long term.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

Oh Luke has an absolutely phenomenal stamina and lasts a lot of rounds, and you are absolutely ruined when he’s finally sated. He’s very fit and active, and his refractory period surprisingly quick too.

T - Toys (do they own toys, do they use toys? on a partner or themselves?)

Luke isn’t that interested in toys other than what he & you use to tie each other up with; his cuffs, ropes, his ties etc. but he enjoys the rare time that he gets to use a vibrator on you and when you call him when he’s in his hotel room, that telltale buzz gets him so hard.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he is such a tease, Luke loves doing it to you. But the thing is that he’s such a sweetheart and soft at heart that he caves as soon as he sees you squirming and wanting.

V - Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make etc?)

Luke is very loud, especially at home. He’s quieter when you’re in a hotel room or vacation cabin, not wanting to actually get caught or reprimanded. At the same time however, Luke is able to whisper the hottest sounds that have you so wet.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

Luke is surprised to find out that he is very interested in knocking you up and getting him pregnant with his babies, and that breeding kink & the resulting pregnancy sex gets him raring to go so fast that he’s nervous about telling you.

X - X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very thick and a delicious length also, you’re not disappointed one bit.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Luke has a high sex drive but he is able to control it and isn’t an addict or pest.

Z - Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

Luke spoons you afterwards or has you snuggled against him with your head on his chest and he enjoys watching you drift off to sleep and be so vulnerable with him. He hates falling asleep without you and always kisses your forehead before falling asleep himself.

[featherwurm]

Gotta hit all characters with the gothification beam at some point, although I didn't push it very hard with them and tried to keep it what I think is in character - neither of them have extensive selections of clothing to their name, and most of what they do have suits their tastes. Tav likes things that are light and comfortable (and sleeves suck), Karlach likes form-fitting stuff that shows her off her physique as well as some spiky chunks of stuff that up the intimidation factor.

Tav is a very classic very early goth - basically still post-punk; original Joy Division shirt (long since chopped off sleeves and neck), junky jeans with Siouxsie and the Banshees and Bauhaus patches, trashed fishent gloves, doc martins, some long chain necklaces with spooky pendants along with some saftey pin chain decor, and some tail rings. Oh and her usual earrings.

Karlach is honestly still basically metal; it's what's in her fairly simple closet - Slayer shirt, her usual hair and piercings, some leather cuffs, spikey belt, chain decor, ripped tight jeans, and her motorcycle boots.

They're going to a goth show at local club. If you know what I mean it's like the Catalyst in Santa Cruz or the Casbah in San Diego - something that brings headliners but also newbies and has a smaller feel (just big enough to get Karlach pumped the fuck up, but Tav doesn't get nervous coming and going.)