#to some extent - also The Heart Killers

[scrumptiousstuffs]

A big reminder to inter-fans who keep complaining about the way Thai BL series are narrated etc.

Directors and production companies make them for Thai audiences and inter-fans should always be mindful of that (and judging by the subs, we as inter-fans sometimes miss the nuances so so much)

Source: bl_imagines IG

[insinirate]

god how i missed tankdad and his not-son pico

theyre everything to me rn

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If ur still taking Hannibal requests, could you potentially do a yandete Hannibal x reader (one-shot or headcanon it doesn't really matter) where the reader is an author who recently just came put with a new novel that got alot of popularity.

The reason it intrigued Hannibal so much is that the antagonist of the novel is based off the Chesapeake Ripper. Feeling flattered, Hannibal goes to one of her book signings, where he finds her absolutely captivating in person. What extents would this man do to get her attention?

♡: can i just say how descriptive some of y'all are with this.. this is literally book worthy 😭 also let me know if you want another part :[

Blood Ink

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal Lecter X Author!reader

CONTENT WARNING: dark hannibal, implied stalking, murder, mention of dead body, yandere behavior, unhinged hannibal, breaking in, leaving creepy little notes, obsessed hannibal

SYNOPSIS: Your book had gained immense popularity and you were quite the talk of the city, showing up in every article and news but capturing Hannibal Lecter’s attention was the worst thing ever, especially when you'd written an antagonist based off the Chesapeake ripper. Hannibal was flattered and in awe of how to I described him and his curiosity grew but so did his infatuation with you when he saw you.

Hannibal was flattered.

Completely amused by how you wrote depiction of him, how well you understood him despite never crossing paths.

Your abundance of understanding when it came to the mind of the killer was not only something he swooned over but how beautifully you wrote down all his murders impressed him, like they were pieces of art. It nearly worked to arouse him in a sense he craved to see you.

They were art, indeed.

Hannibal saw it that way, he saw beauty where most people saw something monstrous, something atrocious. You understood that and Hannibal had to meet you.

You'd written a book about him, a well written — descriptive book, showing off your skills of a true writer. A fan of literature he was and you had caught yourself the worst kind of attention.

The Chesapeake Ripper’s.

He had to meet you, had to see who this woman was who'd written such gruesome details about his murders. The book also included some fictional content, such as the Chesapeake Ripper committing crimes he'd never committed in the real world.

But Hannibal knew you'd included that only to add depth to him, to help the readers understand the beautiful cruelty of Hannibal Lecter.

After spending multiple hours on the internet and reading tabloids about you, watching your interviews, reading articles regarding your personal life and your work life, Hannibal finally made the decision to visit you at one of your book signings.

Your book was controversial, as many people accused you of using a serial killer as an antagonist in your book, giving him a rise in fame but it was never mentioned the book was about the Chesapeake Ripper at all. Only the antagonist had been based off him.

Hannibal was restless, so he grabbed his coat and left for your book signing which took place at a well known book store, in Baltimore too.

You were so close to him.

This had to be fate playing its game.

When Hannibal entered into the crowded book store, there you were. A huge smile decorated your features as you moved your lips to engage in a conversation with one of your fans. Hair up in a neat french bun, only a few strands framing your face — nails freshly done and sharp, resting against your soft beautifully sculpted face.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

Hannibal had seen your picture but the electronic devices did no justice to your beauty.

Hannibal felt his heart give birth to a foreign sensation, spreading through his chest and mixing in with the veins in his body. The copper and the darkness becoming one. He was completely captivated by the mere sight of you and he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

You let out a cheery laugh, nodding your head at the person in front of you before lowering your gaze, fingers holding a marker tightly to sign on the first page of your book. Hannibal analyzed closely, how swiftly your fingers moved and how beautiful they were.

He, for a split moment, imagined them decorated on a plate with vegetables.

Hannibal inhaled a deep breath, a futile attempt to regain his composure that he was beginning to lose control over at the mere sight of you.

You were a sweetheart, from how you interacted with your fans and how full of life you seemed. Deep inside his heart he hoped that you were just the same on the inside too.

Hand clasped around your book, he walked into the line. Awaiting for the people in front of him to get their books signed. He was a patient man but right now, his restlessness almost made him want to crush through the people and get to you.

Finally when his turn arrived, Hannibal slid the book over to you on the beige table. You greeted him with that gleaming smile of yours, bright enough to light up the whole room and the darkness which had bloomed in his chest when he was only a little boy.

Hannibal wasn't aware that catching a whiff of you would consume him like this but here he was, struggling to keep himself from tipping over the edge. Your scent reminded him of flowers, a fluorescent garden with bright sun rays cascading down upon it. Giving it light and life. Growing drunk on it.

His nostrils flared, inhaling more of the sweet perfume you'd adorned yourself with like some obsessed puppy. God, he was fucking dizzy over how sugary you smelled and the man couldn't get enough of it. Like old restored wine, he craved to drown you down and savor you against his tongue.

“Beautiful writing skills you've got.” Hannibal complimented with a gentle smile. Your cheeks heated up, switching to a shade of rosette.

Your eyes sparkled. “Thank you. I guess you could say I put my soul into writing this book.”

Well you just dug yourself a deeper hole than you were in before by saying that. Hannibal’s heart fluttered at your words. You'd invested your soul into writing about him, him only and that fact made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

His smile lines deepened, watching as you reached for the book and flipped it open. Fingers tightly enveloping the marker between them, you scribbled your signature on the white paper along with your initials.

“You must have a really beautiful soul then.” Hannibal said and you swallowed. His politeness and his charm worked in mysterious ways to pull you towards him but Hannibal knew just by approaching you as a fan — which he was, wouldn't really work.

He had to do more to gain your attention, your full focus.

You slid his book back over to him and Hannibal nodded, picking it up. “It was a pleasure seeing you in person. Do you mind if I ask you a question, miss?”

You raised a brow but then slowly nodded.

Hannibal’s lips curved up. “Do you believe that the Chesapeake Ripper might read this book one day?”

Your brows furrowed. Hannibal’s question was peculiarly interesting, different than the questions others had for you. Fans excited to know about the inspiration behind the book, some aching to know where you'd come up with the sinister plot. But none like this.

Hannibal’s question had crossed your mind on multiple occasions.

“Maybe but if he does, I would be interested in knowing his opinion on the book.” You responded truthfully.

That was all Hannibal needed. He stared at you, with a longing foreign to you and then he nodded. You watched him walk out of the book store as your gaze clung to him. Something inside you told you this wouldn't be the first time you'd see this man.

You shook your head and signed the rest of the books, answering all the curious questions about your books and then leaving when the event had ended. It had gotten late and you swung your leather bag over your shoulder, heels clicking against the road when you crossed it to head to your car.

The night was dark and quiet — peace tainting spreading to corner, only the sound of crickets chatting could be heard along with the clicking of your pencil heels echoing in the vast space.

Before you could enter your car, a piece of paper stuck to the front glass of your car caught your attention. With a bemused expression on your face, you reached for it and ripped the sticky note off the glass.

As your gaze ran over the content of it, your hands began to tremble.

An absolute beauty you are. You have captured my mind, heart and soul with your enthralling words. Be careful, my Dearest.

You blinked, head immediately snapping up and gaze flickering all over the area you were in. Hoping you'd find someone who left this note but you were all alone, a deep silence greeting you. Panic filled you but your brain provided you with some reassurance.

A note left by a fan.

Maybe an admirer of your writing.

That had to be it.

Of course that was it. You released a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Calm down, it's probably nothing.”

You took the note in your hand and got into your car, twisting the key into ignition and driving off to your house. On your way home, your mind kept repeating the words written in beautiful calligraphy over the paper. The twists of each letter — as if love had been poured into it.

You let out a breath, hoping that along with the run rising tomorrow you'd forget about this.

You preferred solitude and peace, not fond of the city so the area you lived in was quitw distant and overall stayed underneath complete silence. Cold breeze caressed your face as you drove by and when you finally reached home, you stepped out of the car with the intention to hit the bed.

Your arm throbbed from the amount of books you'd signed but you loved it. You loved writing down your thoughts, different plot lines. Invention of different characters was your coping mechanism.

You didn't know that when the next day you'd wake up, a horrible news would be awaiting you.

— ♡ —

Morning came by a flash.

You weren't typically cheerful but you weren't also grumpy either. An optimist was what you called yourself. You always looked forward to new days, trying to carry a positive mindset with you in life.

Coffee and pancakes was your go to breakfast.

Once you'd prepared it, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels while sipping onto your delicious, hot piping coffee which eased the prickling sensation caused by the shivering cold.

But then you stopped.

Eyes widening in horror over the news that flashed before you.

“The Chesapeake Ripper strikes again, taking another victim under his hold. This time it is an unidentified man in his thirties who was found dead last night in a forest. The FBI claims it was the Chesapeake Ripper who put up quite the show of the body.”

You blinked profusely.

The Ripper had stopped killing, quite for some time now. So why was he killing again? You were bemused but you didn't let it get to your head. A disturbing emotion seeped into your chest, anxiety spreading and you lost your appetite.

You decided it'd be best to go under the radar for now, as you'd written about the man.

There was a knock on the door and your panicked gaze switched to it. Placing your mug down, you stood up and walked to unlock the door. It revealed an FBI agent, also known as Will Graham. You'd come across tabloids about the compassionate empath who often helped with catching the murderers.

“Yes?”

Will raised his hand and you noticed he was holding your book. “You wrote this book?”

You nodded your head, an apprehensive feeling being born. “I did. Why?”

Will Graham invited himself in, gaze analyzing your home in scrutiny. You were taken aback by his behavior but still didn't say a word, as he was an FBI agent, a murder had been committed by the Chesapeake Ripper and he was holding your book.

“I'm sure you're aware of the murder that took place last night.” You couldn't understand what that had to do with you but you still heard him out, waiting for him to continue.

“Let's say our killer was heavily inspired by your book. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Your lips parted in confusion, brows furrowed as you were left flummoxed by the man's words. It's true you'd taken inspiration from the Chesapeake Ripper but that was all there was to it. There was no way someone had taken what you'd written to heart.

You took a step back. “I don't get this, agent Graham. What do you exactly mean by inspired?”

“I've read the book, miss. There are a few murder scenes which are fictional, never committed by the Chesapeake Ripper.” He explained, holding out printed parts of your own book. You slowly took them and then you were handed the photographs from the murder scene.

As your gaze swiped over it, your jaw dropped.

No way.

There was no way.

“No.” You whispered.

Exactly what you'd written, what you'd described, how you described it and even imagined it when you wrote it down. It was the same, a carbon copy like you yourself had committed the crime. You yourself had decorated the fucking set up.

You pressed a hand over your chest, feeling nauseous.

“Since they were fictional, the killer took it upon himself to bring them to life. Manifest them into reality, miss.” Your breathing grew uneven. A pang of guilt blossoming in your ribcage when your eyes glided over the dead body wrapped in dreadful vines, decorated with flowers.

Lily of the valley and Belladona.

Poisonous but beautiful flowers they were.

Your chest tightened.

Will noticed the raw fear and uncomfort spread on your face. It was exactly the same as what you'd written. Every detail, every touch, every little item was perfectly presented in the way you'd imagined it to be when you wrote it down. When you took hint of the body, your face became more flustered.

Exactly from the description of your book.

Blonde, male, short height and lean frame.

Just exactly the way you'd written him down and you looked at Will. “O-Organs. Is he missing a liver?”

Will nodded and that made you sick to your damn stomach.

Someone was out there — probably the Chesapeake Ripper and he had read your book.

This was a message.

To tell you he'd read your book.

Your fingers trembled and their grasp loosened over the pieces of paper, as well as the photographs. Falling to the floor.

Will kneeled down to gather them and then stood back on his feet.

“I-I don't know. I h-have no idea why he's doing this.” You stumbled over your words, palm pressing into your chest as your forehead became sweaty.

You were a mess.

“Calm down, please.” Will said, to reassure you. You could sense a panic attack knocking at the doors of your brain, struggling to breathe.

But you tried to calm yourself down. You weren't responsible for this as much as you felt like it. The fucking crime scene looked like you'd committed it, no wonder the FBI had come knocking on your damn door. This was going to sabotage you but at least they were aware someone else was doing the kills.

That calmed you down a little.

But you were still on edge. Taken aback from the abrupt change brought in one night.

“Am I a suspect?” You asked and Will shook his head. That relieved you a little.

After Will was done asking you some questions regarding the book and if there was anyone who you had shared the contents of it before the book was released, he left and you were all alone.

The scenes where the antagonist committed the fictional murders were completely out of your imagination. All thought about under the dark night and the glimmering stars.

You went to the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water and the cold water worked sufficiently to hydrate your parched mouth and throat.

You went into your room to grab your laptop, in hopes that you might find something on the internet. Leaning down, you tried to pick it up from your bed but stalled. A piece of paper capturing your attention. Folded neatly underneath your pillow.

Your breath hitched.

It was eerily similar to the paper that was stuck to your glass.

Heart beat picking up and hands beginning to shake, you reached for the paper and picked it up. As you unfolded it with bated breaths, your eyes widened.

Same hand writing, different words.

No amount of words were capable enough to describe the fear that you felt in that very moment when your gaze captured and read each and every word.

I hope you like what I prepared for you, my Dearest. There is more to come, please cherish and appreciate my gifts for you.

Tears stung your eyes vision blurry. You thought that was it but no. There was more, in the lower corner of the paper. You squinted your eyes and what you read next made you drop the note.

I must say, you are a gorgeous sight when you sleep.

[jazjelspen]

ex-girlfriend

jeff the killer x fem! reader

(you've dated Jeff the Killer since high school and have known him for longer. You stayed even after he became who he is now.. but what if you became stronger than him? what if you became a completely new person entirely? and left your heavy-hearted killer boyfriend to rot?)

(notes: took inspo from fanon Jeff but also tried to write him into his own person of course :) will try to be realistic when it calls for it + took some creative liberties in certain aspects too. I also apologize if the characterization of Jeff and others isn't super fitting.. I'm still getting used to how I want to express them and construct them as characters and the world around them.)

(CAUTION!!!: includes dark/serious themes, mention of murder/death, use of cannab1s, slight implications of s3x, toxic relationships, physical abu$3, possible ooc(?) )

(NOT PROOFREAD)

[part 1/2]

you and jeff are a killer duo.

seriously and figuratively.

you two have always been attracted to each other, a connection you two couldn't see but you both knew it was there.

the older and closer you two got, the more you two realized you had more in common than you two initially assumed..

way, wayyy more in common.

but to skip a long origin story short, let me give you some details on how you and Jeff suddenly got separated in the way that you did.

you see, you and Jeff resided at the Slender Mansion.. mostly just to get Slender off your backs due to you guys finding solidarity and a sense of safety in the deep dark forests, far away from home. it kept you two safe from police, as well as anyone or anything else that could be a threat.

of course, the specific area you went into was territory of the thin and tall boss of the forests.. and you would've been dead meat if you two didn't create a sort of alliance with the deity, not exactly proxies yet you two still had to trade something in return for your lives.. the lives and bodies of others seemed to quell Slenderman's hunger quite well.

nonetheless, tonight was one of those nights in which you and Jeff had to find more lives to take, blood to shed.

this night was different though, as Jeff was currently stuck in your shared room after going through a minor operation at the hands of Eyeless Jack, another being that came and left as he pleased.

"You think he'll recover quick?" You perked up as you watched EJ sew in the last stitch in a cut that reopened earlier as he was helping Jeff into your room, cutting up the thread before standing back as you two stared at your injured boyfriend from beside the bed he laid on.

"Not as quick as you may think," spoke EJ, his calm, raspy, and slightly demonic voice sounding monotone as he isn't intending to comfort you in the slightest but just to inform you. "Slenderman's healing properties can only work so fast, the rest depends on his own body's will to repair itself."

"Makes sense, with how much the victim fought back and the cops almost got him by a hair.. " you let out a huff through your nose before crossing your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly. "It has never gotten this bad before..." You murmured before moving away to open the door for EJ to find his way out. "I know you don't usually accept 'thank you's but, thanks. I owe you one for saving his ass."

"Hm." hummed the blue masked being. He may have the form of a human, and sound like one to a certain extent.. but he doesn't have the feelings of one for all you knew. "I'm sure you know how to stitch him up again if another injury reopens, I won't be here the rest of the week as I'll be doing my own business elsewhere."

"Got it.." You opened the creaky wooden oak door to let him through, and he left just as fast as he came in.

Closing the door behind you and letting go of the rusty brass door knob, you sighed in exhaustion.

"Yknow, you've been awfully quiet--"

"Shut the fuck up or I'm going to slice your throat."

Your shoulders dropped as soon as you heard Jeff's empty threat escape his throat. You walked closer to him, your shoes making small thuds and the wooden floors creaking beneath your feet.

"There you are." you cooed, finally hearing him talk after being silent the entire time.. incredibly out of character for him yet you were sure the shame of getting as injured as he is now and having to be 'taken care of' definitely got to him. "I almost started missing you."

"Get my knife, get the rest of your shit, and let's move.. we have people to kill for fucks sake.." Jeff's hoarse voice cracked even further as he attempted to sit up yet the pain coming from his abdomen only caused his nerves his fire up, making him fall back onto the moldy mattress yelping in pain. "You're absolutely stupid for even thinking you're able to go out tonight Jeff." You proceeded to sit on the empty side of the bed beside him, your hand slowly reaching over to gently caress his brutally cut up cheek yet your lover only harshly smacked it away with the back of his own hand. "So.. you're telling me you're going to ignore what I fucking telling you to do?" Jeff groveled and huffed in irritation, if he wasn't so incapacitated he'd probably be pulling you by your arm or hair to get you to do what he told you. "Since when have you gotten so brave, doll?"

"Since I followed you and helped you kill your own family that night." You pulled your hand away, reminiscing the night when your Jeff turned into who he is now.

You remembered how much your heart swelled when you saw him covered in his family's blood, his fresh cut up smile and red inflamed burns across his body and face. You continued to love him just as much as you did before he became so disfigured.

He was your religion, and you followed him in devotion.

"Now, we still have to keep our deal with the big boss right? I'll do your kills for the night, then when your better tomorrow we'll finish up whatever else we have to do.. or hell we can just kill for fun to make it up to you, " you hopped off the bed as you spoke and walked over to a wooden rotting vanity in the corner of your room, with drawers that were unable to close and doors that were hanging by their hinges. Your hand reached over to get an empty crunched up ziplock bag and continued on to walk back to your boyfriend with the object in your hand. "What do you say? I'll even get you some of the good stuff to make you feel better." you spoke lovingly, your hand with the bag grazing over his misshapen nose as he inhaled it deeply with a faint sense of delight. It still lingered the smell of his favorite thing to smoke and get high off of.. aside from your kisses and affection of course.

"Fuck that smells good.." he mumbled before his beady black eyes then suddenly shot up at you with this look of angry hesitation. "This is the only damn time I'm ever letting you out of my sight, make it quick, come back, and if you take a fucking second too long I'll get up and drag you back by your hair myself, got it gorgeous?.."

"You won't even have to bother Jeff." you bent over slightly to give him a quick peck on the lips, but just as much as he was addicted to the green he was also addicted to your warmth, your lips, your presence and self.

You couldn't help but have to suddenly sustain your own body weight by resting an arm beside Jeff's head as his own uninjured arm went to grab you by the back of your head to pull you closer in a deeper, much more passionate kiss.

Hearts beating aggressively in a dark passion that was just as fiery and scarlet as the blood you two would spill on the daily, the faint smell of dried blood, mud, and rubbing alcohol reeked as you two struggled to inhale air with your noises clashing against each other, his aggressive and hungry kisses tasting of iron but also of old cigarettes and booze.

Normally this would disgust any one else that wasn't you, but you liked the way he smelled, how he tasted.. it reassured you that this was in fact Jeff, your Jeff.

Eventually, he would finally let you go by harshly pushing you away in order to break the kiss. He knew that if you stayed any longer he was gonna want you all to himself for the rest of the night, as close to him as you physically could.

"Get out of here and get back, ______. Don't make me wait longer than I have to."

You smiled at him, a sweet and sinister little smile that would somehow always get him hard every time you did it.

"You've got nothing to worry about."

two weeks.

two weeks passed since you disappeared that night.

Jeff recovered the night after you left, but you could imagine the absolute horror and rage he felt when he realized you never came back later that night.

With other residents also living in the mansion, residents with personalities and have bits of humanity left similar to Jeff, you can also imagine the slight wave of rumors to those that knew or noticed the two of you in your years in the mansion. Some say you made a deal with Slender and got to leave, others say that you got kidnapped, that you got brainwashed, caught by police, sacrificed to another higher being, stuck in an asylum or- simply that you died. There were endless possibilities but they all ended the same:

you hung Jeff dry, left his grasp and simply didn't come back.

Jeff would obviously try to get in contact with Slenderman as to know your condition, since he knew that the deity had the consciousness and psyches of every being or person he's made some kind of contact with in his hands.

Although he had to go through one, two, three of Slender's proxies, just to have a word with him somehow.. He would eventually get a word from the big boss through one of his more well known lackeys.

"She's fine, Jeffery. She isn't dead, she hasn't made any deals with him, and she isn't injured to death or whatever." the annoyed and exasperated voice of Masky would echo in the empty halls that the pair stood in, the arms of the mustard-yellow colored jacket would fold over his chest while also being in a sort of stance that expressed the fact that he simply just didn't want to be there.

"Then why the hell is she not back?? Does he know where she could be? If she was kidnapped? If she got arrested or put in a fucking ward?" Jeff yelled in an almost desperate sort of tone yet he would never admit it openly.

"Look, I don't fucking care whether she's alive, dead, stuck in a fucking hole or hell! if she's sucking some other guy's dick that isn't yours! But all I know that is that if she left on purpose he would've already had me or one of the others to get her back, but he hasn't so maybe she's nearby or some shit like that."

Anyone around could see that Jeff was on the verge of reaching over for his knife and cut Masky in half, yet he knew better than to do that to him of all people. "Does he at least know where she is?? I'll get her myself if I have to just give me a fucking address, some place to know where she could be!.."

If Masky wasn't wearing a mask, he'd probably be rolling his eyes to oblivion, irritated beyond belief at something like this even being a problem. "No. But as I already fucking said, if he isn't asking one of us to chase her down and get her back then you shouldn't have to overreact the way you are right now." the proxy proceeded to brush past him without a care, but said one last small thing before he left Jeff's vicinity completely.

"By the way, stop bothering the other proxies about this as we could care less about your girlfriend, just get a new one and fuck off!"

Jeff stood there, trembling in an anger he hasn't felt since the day he attacked his bullies and his brother took the blame for it.

He wasn't exactly reassured, but he also knew that he was very limited and there wasn't much he could do.

But he was restless, so you bet your ass he was going to go look for you even if it was just stalking the streets and killing anyone in his wake.

luckily for him, his waiting would end soon enough.

the week after that, he'd get the news of his life.

he'd been killing all week, killing innocents as he usually did but at a quicker and animalistic pace, he would almost get caught this time by the cops yet again but before his spree could continue he received some news thanks to that cheeky voice that would speak to him through the screens.

he would come back to the mansion, battered and bruised beyond belief. the calluses on his hands split and bled, cuts everywhere all old and fresh, he was ruthless in his murders as well as he was careless.

he needed you to ground him, you were the reason as to why he has even been alive for as long as he has.

his hand seemed to be superglued to the handle of his sharpened knife even as he was dragging his legs towards EJ's basement, where he was led to believe he would find what he was looking for.

He aggressively banged on the metal door with his fist in anticipation, not being able to wait any longer than how much he's already had to. The one to answer the door would be Eyeless Jack as it is his "resting" place in the mansion so to speak.

Once the door opened Jeff would quickly push past EJ not needing to be accepted in the space for him to go in.

"Where is she??" he shouted, his voice boasting in the cold concrete room. "I was told you found her, where the fuck is she?"

EJ would calmly close the door before slowly leading Jeff towards a corner of the large space, where a long, clean-white room divider seemed to hide something.

well, more like someone.

That was when Jeff finally saw you, your limp body laying there and your face had this gentle expression you'd usually make when you were sleeping. Beside you stood Nurse Ann, who was gently cleaning the countless cuts and lacerations you had around your body with several cotton pads and changing gauzes as well.

Jeff's heart fell down to his stomach, he would've started reeling and throwing up if he didn't rush to take a closer look at you only to see that your chest was still rising and falling.

He sighed in relief.

"As you can see, she's alive." spoke EJ as he took a few steps closer, "Nurse Ann found her as she was coming back to the mansion, she found her body laying on the edge of where Slender's territory ends and the rest of forest. She also claims that ______ wasn't there when she left, so she probably appeared a little later that same day."

Jeff's hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch your face with the back of his hand, yet hesitated slightly when his hand could almost feel the warmth of your skin.

But that's when he took a minute to really take in the rest of your appearance.

Your entire body even your face was dirtied in dried mud and soil, your fingernails were dirty and chipped, your arms and cheeks were decorated in scratches and cuts of various sizes, and your clothes.. seemed to have been replaced with a clean hospital gown and your missing shoes were replaced by socks.

EJ continued on, "And so you don't go attacking me, Nurse Ann changed her clothes. According to her they were tattered and beyond repair, and that they were completely soiled in blood."

"Blood?" Jeff spoke up in slight concern,

"The blood wasn't hers."

[ovenproofowl]

bad blood is one hell of an episode. it literally opens with mulder straight-up murdering a regular teenager via stake-through-the-heart and he and scully are like pretty sure the FBI is going to be sued and they're going to be doing some serious jail time. except both of them remember the story differently. scully's story is predictably logical and straight-forward. the killer was drugging his victims before bleeding them out, mimicking a vampire attack by wearing fake fangs (which are proven to be fake. this is crucial. this kid was wearing plastic fangs when mulder stabbed him. in the chest. with a wooden stake.) what is also crucial is that mulder was a victim of this murderer's attack and so he was tripping hard when scully intercepts the killer. mulder - whilst tripping balls - is convinced that the killer has glowing eyes and flew across the room before running out the door. and so - whilst tripping balls - he gives chase and ends up stabbing the kid through the heart with a wooden stake.

and of course this is the x files and so while scully and mulder are arguing over who gave who the hardest time in their percieved series of events, it turns out that mulder was right. the kid was a vampire and the stake didn't actually kill him. the fangs were fake because he was copying the sorts of vampires that you see in books and on tv. he was a real vampire.

and it's not just the kid. there are bunches of vampires, including the sheriff. the whole town are just. vampires. the lot of 'em. and the second they're found out, they just up and leave without a trace.

sometimes the extent to which mulder turns out to be right in this show is borderline ludicrous, it's amazing, I love it. but what was even better was that the biggest point of contention between scully and mulder's stories wasn't even the vampire thing, it was whether or not the sheriff was actually hot.

[hugemilkshake]

I’m a sucker for platonic yanderes, so how would platonic yandere ancients or beasts react to a reader who’s constantly out adventuring and getting hurt?

Enjoy the milkshake! I only will be doing the ancients because sugar and salt have no lore yet 😭

Also I wrote this when I had a killer headache so that’s fun 👍

Yandere ancients with an adventurous reader

-Platonic-

!TW! Under the cut there will be stuff like Excessive worrying, guilt tripping, implied murder, over protectiveness, reality warping and slight imprisonment

Pure Vanilla

This man will be worried for you constantly. Like, are you getting enough food? Are you hurt? Are you lost? He wants to know!!

Tbh he’s helicopter parent coded.

If Pure Vanilla can’t accompany you then he’s sending Black Raisin Cookie or some crows with you

Black Raisin will catch onto this but won’t say anything.

Now if you come back injured, be prepared to be healed by Pure Vanilla, almost to an excessive amount.

You will also be scolded for getting injured, and also Pure Vanilla might try guilt tripping you into not adventuring again.

Hollyberry

She’s honestly the best one here.

Now, she does worry for you but she won’t be too pushy, I mean Princess Cookie loves adventure as well! If you two get along you both could adventure together!

If you prefer to adventure alone then that’s fine! Just make sure to have the proper experience and supplies!

If you want then Hollyberry will come with you to adventure out to the dragons valley! It will be a great bonding experience!

Hollyberry will lightly scold you if you get injured but it’s to a normal extent, unlike Pure Vanilla.

But if someone were to try and hurt you then they might have a shimmering shield as the last thing they see…

Dark Cacao

You shouldn’t Even try with Dark Cacao.

The mention will cause him flashbacks to when Dark Choco was younger and all the cookies who lost their lives to the harsh environment

He would HATE to lose someone else, so adventure would be out of the question

If you were really serious he might but if you come back injured, even if it’s just a scratch, you won’t be allowed to leave the citadel again.

The watchers will know, some might not approve of this but they don’t want to go against Dark Cacao.

Now like always, if Affogato is there then the outcome will be more positive. But don’t get your hopes up.

Golden Cheese

Golden Cheese won’t allow it… UNLESS you are in her digital world! Then you can adventure all you want!

Now will you be observed constantly? Yes.

You can’t learn that this isn’t actual reality!

If you come close to the truth then you will be manipulated that it’s the desert sun making your think things that aren’t real

Golden Cheese does feel guilty for this but it’s for your own good..

White Lily

If you thought Dark Cacao had a heart attack then you will think White Lily died on you.

You want to go adventuring in BEAST YEAST???? That’s funny.

With all the dangers and the beast being out wondering beast yeast you shouldn’t even ask or THINK about adventure

If it was up to White Lily, you wouldn’t be allowed to leave a house but since she has the soul jam of freedom, so she lets you wonder around the faerie kingdom

But don’t think you can leave the kingdom. Sliverbell watches the entrance like a hawk and Mercurial Knight is like a 24/7 body guard.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP4: Is Bison Playing Dumb?

Before the series aired, I did wonder if we were going to get a Mr and Mrs Smith type scenario at some point. The 'I know that you know that I know' type mind game which goes both ways, where both parties are pretending to be none the wiser until the time is right.

Up until Episode 4, Bison had some reservations but there was some ambiguity in regards to how much he bought into Kant's attentions and believed his own words in Kant's defence. Since being poisoned, Bison's gut instinct is louder than ever before. Paired with Fadel's reproachful reasoning and the evidence against Kant is mounting up so fast that Bison's excuses cannot deter the warning signs anymore.

So when Bison goes to 'confront' Kant with a pocketknife in hand, he's on a mission of his own. Despite what this implies, he not going on the immediate offence. He plans to put Kant on trial. He's going to do this his way, not how Fadel expects him to.

Now Kant is a pretty terrible liar as far as liars go. When Bison closely scrutinises his every move under an accusatory gaze rather than one of just slight suspicion, Kant visibly buckles under the pressure. It requires him to lie in a much more overt, blatant and upfront manner, which he stumbles through under Bison's unrelenting spotlight. Later on Bison directly asks him, "You're not hiding anything else from me, are you?" You could read this as Bison re-assessing whether he can afford to give Kant another chance, but to me it felt like Bison was almost tempting Kant to lie to his face. He already knows Kant has not been completely truthful. What he may be re-affirming is the extent to which Kant is choosing to continue lying to him. 'You must know that I'm onto you, why are you still keeping up the pretence?'

Every time he questions Kant, it's an invitation to come clean; to drop the act, to fess up or slip up. When he presses, he's testing to see if Kant will forfeit the information himself, but he continues to dodge, swerve and deflect. And actually, it's no coincidence that their first ever interaction plays out on very similar footing. Kant initially flirts with Bison under a guise of bravado. When Bison doesn't buy into it because he dislikes the façade, Kant changes tack and goes for a candid approach. That's when Bison gives him a chance, and his smile says 'See, why didn't you just start with that to begin with?'

Unsurprisingly, it's when Kant 'drops the act' that Bison wavers because he detects genuine sincerity. Even if Bison is harbouring anger, he's also acknowledging that Kant hasn't lied about absolutely everything. And that's enough to maintain a small concession. Based on next week's preview, I wonder if Bison intends to play into Kant's guilt to see whether that prompts him to redeem himself.

After all, Kant is also a prisoner of his circumstances (though Bison doesn't yet know the full context). "I saw it with my own eyes. Kant was just trying to get away from his bad past." On an unconscious level, he feels a kinship with such a predicament, which is why he's biding his time. He's decided to continue the charade and call Kant's bluff by agreeing to be his boyfriend, to see just how far Kant plans to take this by giving him what he wants. A 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' strategy, mirroring how Kant is equally digging for intel on him by getting up close. Why are you doing this? What's in it for you? What exactly is your motive? Where do the lies start and end? How much of what you feel for me is true, if any of it?

Bison's undecided. He's human after all and not immune to Kant's charms (which funnily enough is the same problem Fadel's currently having with Style). Every time Kant refers to him as his boyfriend, you can see Bison's heart flutter. The attraction between the two is undeniably there and that will still colour his judgement.

In the meantime, Bison appears to be mentally cataloguing every transgression and forming his judgement slowly on whether Kant will deserve punishment or vindication.

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[pesky--dust]

Do you believe Will orchestrated the escape? Was he intending to flee with Hannibal or was he genuinely planning to kill him?

First of all, I think that Will is a character whose behavior we cannot predict - just like Hannibal said.

In the first season, Will was vulnerable, but in the second season, he started manipulating people to get what he wanted, and he told Alana and Hannibal that he was an unreliable narrator of his own story. And I believe that this is true throughout the series, to a greater or lesser extent.

In The Wrath of the Lamb Dolarhyde attacked Will in a motel. Will was aware that Dolarhyde wanted to meet Dr. Lecter, Dolarhyde himself told him so! And this scene, according to the script, ends with the following words:

CABAL. The synonym for this word is intrigue.

So I believe that Will decided to use Dolarhyde to free Hannibal, knowing now that since Hannibal loves him and Will plays it right, Hannibal will do whatever Will asks him to do.

So yes... I believe it was orchestrated by Will to some extent.

However, was he intending to flee with Hannibal or was he genuinely planning to kill him?

That's a good question! And I will repeat what I have already written: I think that we cannot predict Will's behaviour. In Mizumono he called Hannibal at the last minute and was not sure what to do until the very end and in The Wrath of the Lamb Will tells Bedelia, "Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They're more often a lump than a sum". It is what actually drives him.

I think he wasn't sure how this escape would turn out. Would Dolarhyde kill Hannibal? Both of them? Or would Hannibal kill Dolarhyde and him? Maybe just Dolarhyde? Or maybe he'll just leave the FBI's dirty work and not get his hands dirty in the process?

And so, another pillar of this series is curiosity. I believe that apart from his feelings, Will was also guided by his curiosity about what would happen. In my opinion, there was no grand plan. "Everything that can happen happens. Has to end well, and it has to end badly. Has to end every way it can", "If everything that can happen happens, you can't really do the wrong thing. You're just doing what you're supposed to do" (Primavera).

[EDIT, because I forgot to write about something I find important]

In ... and the Beast from the Sea, Will tells Hannibal, "I'm not Fortune's fool, I'm yours". "I'm Fortune's fool" comes from Romeo and Juliet. It's about acceptance of the fact that you have no control over your life, because everything is up to fate; Will tells Hannibal that he is his fate and so he accepts it. And in the very next episode Will finds out that Hannibal in fact loves him.

In The Wrath of the Lamb, when Will comes to Hannibal to ask him to be a bait, in his memory palace, he stands on the skull engraved in the floor, where years ago Hannibal left him his broken heart. Will accepts Hannibal's heart now and chooses him, with all its consequences, not knowing what would happen.

[END OF EDIT]

And in The Wrath of the Lamb, Will tells Reba that Francis couldn't watch her die. When Dolarhyde shot Hannibal, Will reached for his gun. I think that both curiosity and his own feelings made him want to protect Hannibal and kill Dolarhyde in this very moment.

His feelings after killing Dolarhyde caused him to throw himself and Hannibal off the cliff (personally, I think the fall didn't happen at all and is just a metaphor, but that's a topic for another post), knowing that he would never feel better.

This answer turned out to be longer than I thought, so tl;dr:

Yes, Will orchestrated the escape.

Will is driven by his feelings, curiosity and whims (as Chilton said in Hassun), so I think that he didn't have any bigger plan than freeing Hannibal and see what would happen and then ended up being driven by his feelings. So I would say that he neither planned to run away with Hannibal nor to kill him. He was acting on the spur of the moment. If Hannibal killed Dolarhyde? Great, one serial killer down. If Hannibal had killed both Dolarhyde and Will? Okay, they're finally free from each other. If Dolarhyde had killed him and Hannibal? Finally it was all over. But Dolarhyde killing Hannibal? Oh no, Will couldn't bear to look at it.

[smallbutters]

Sickly Bodies - Michael Myers x Reader

Content Warnings - Stalking , mentions of suicide, murder (duh), uuuh michael myers is a warning alone lol

Notes - Minors DNI PLEASE, fluff but also murder, SFW, no specific pronouns or gendered terms used :))

Eyes of the devil.

Black, soulless voids behind them, devoid of all humanity.

Ever since he was transferred to the Sanitarium, Michael has been referred to and treated as a being of pure evil - a blight upon this world. How would Dr. Loomis react now, to the situation Michael finds himself in?

A body lies in his house, in his bed, and for once it hasn’t gone cold, the heat of life still flowing through it.

You.

Sick as all hell, writhing in pain as whatever illness you have beats you into a pained, sluggish version of your normal self.

Michael stands aside the bed, making no movement.

He watches you, for a while - rolling back and forth occasionally, groaning in pain all the while.

When you finally become aware enough to notice that you aren't alone, you look up to his mask and give a meek smile. Michael isn't a comforting person, he never learned how to be or even received any himself, but something in you knows that this is his attempt at it.

"You don't have to stand here, you know."

You get no response.

A few seconds of silence pass as you close your eyes, letting out a slow, shallow breath.

"This will pass, it might take a bit longer since you don't have any medicine in the cabinets, but I'll be just fine soon enough..." You trail off.

You are once again met with silence.

It doesn't take too long for you to succumb to the exhaustion and fall asleep, your body being completely drained from fighting off this virus. You don't know how long Michael stayed there, or if he even was there after you finished talking - for such a big body, he's incredibly quiet.

Unbeknownst to you, he stayed, unmoving, for a good half an hour after you drifted off.

He was planning on going out tonight - a frat house down the street has been too rowdy lately, and losing a few members would likely get them to quiet down (you had been bothered by the noise lately, but that isn’t why he’s going for them) But leaving you here alone, sick and in pain seemed to hurt his cold heart.

Why?

If you posed an obstacle for him and his goals, he really should just kill you. You two have been together for a few months now, in a sort of problem-and-problem-enabler type situation - you provided him a place to stay at your half-used apartment, food, and company (an attempt at it, at least), and Michael provided with a sense of safety as your behind-the-scenes guard dog, and an odd sense of pride knowing you’ve, to an extent, tamed the beast terrorizing Haddonfield.

Michael isn’t stupid, not in a general sense. While he had been in a mental institution for the past fifteen-odd years, he's killed dozens of people by now and never got even remotely close to being caught. He’s just a little socially confused. He’s been treated like the devil itself for the past 15 years of his life, so your kindness, let alone your peaceful coexistence with him is somewhat lost to him. Even the night you met had been something he’d never thought he’d let happen.

You had been taking pictures of the old Myers house a few months back, just after sunset. There was enough light for you to see, but with every photo you took that was getting more and more difficult. You had walked here by yourself, which you quickly began to regret - you could hear quiet(ish) shuffling coming from the side of the house, and it definitely wasn’t getting further away. You obviously knew of Michael, everyone did - but August was much earlier than he’d ever returned, and you knew some local teens had taken up pretending to be him just to get a scare out of people. At first you thought you’d just get a little spooked and laughed at, then be able to head home safely, but apparently impersonating a killer doesn’t sit well with said killer. 

The two impostors were killed with ease and a lack of ceremony, and you were quickly thrown into the house. You thought the last thing you’d ever see would be that infamous pale white mask looking into your eyes, but it wasn’t. You saw the eyes behind it - the man, the human. In complete honesty, neither of you knew why what happened next turned out the way it did. One moment you were pinned against the wall by the real Michael, the blood from the two imposters staining both your clothes. Then all he did was let out a loud huff before stalking away. The man who never left someone alive let you, of all people, live.

In the coming months you began to spot him near your apartment and - seemingly - following you around town. You were smart enough not to tell anyone, as you knew he’d disappear before anyone else could spot him and you’d wake up to a pool of your own blood and live out your last moments from a betrayal-fueled, merciless kill. From then on you had learned to interpret his non-verbality, which lead to an eventual fucked-up kind of kinship. You never tried to get him to stop what he does - to “fix” him. He appreciated that. With time he began to enjoy, even desire your company, and even went as far as allowing you to see who he was under the mask.

Getting to the location was easy enough - it was dark as all hell outside in the early December nights, and no one wanted to leave the safety and comfort of their homes. Especially since the small town had just been visited by the infamous boogeyman. Except, seemingly, the exact house he had his sights on. Perhaps it was just a lapse in judgement by a house full of drunk, intelligence-deprived party goers, but perhaps they thought one escaped asylum serial killer wouldn’t be able to survive against all of them. Either way, they left the side door unlocked. Entering the house, Michael quietly stalked around the trash strewn about - it seemed like a party had just concluded, which meant it was very likely that everyone in the house was dead asleep from over drinking. Easy targets.

It didn’t take long for Michael to be almost completely alone in the frat house. His ability to quietly stalk through it was really put to the test however, as the house was absolutely filthy. He could smell, even through his mask, the stink of cheap alcohol, smoke, and something that he’d be alright with never fully identifying. The ground was almost completely littered in something that looked like discarded clothes, with various kinds of large stains just about everywhere - for once maybe he’d actually be the good guy by killing whoever made this mess.

Finding said filth was pretty easy, people were asleep on the floor, on couches, piled together on beds. He saw two bodies sharing a bed, one draping an arm over the other, their hand being held by the other. He thought of you - your warmth finally allowing him to get some real rest at night. How you were never scared of his large hands, never seeming to care about the blood that can’t be washed from them. How you also seemed to sleep better in his presence, sometimes waiting up for him to even get to bed.

You better not be doing that now.

That room took him a bit longer to get through.

The last room was on the eastern side of the building, the master bedroom. Only a few people were in this room, two piled on the bed and one asleep face-down on the floor, lying in a pool of… something. Michael had gotten rid of two of them before he noticed how the only window of this room was perfectly facing your old apartment. You had been splitting time between there and the old Myers house ever since that night, but the knowledge that anyone in this house could have seen you through that window made his blood boil. He can’t stop you from interacting with people; he had enough common sense to know that you had to work and get money to sustain yourself and get whatever you thought Michael needed as well, and that a good person like you needed more than just a serial killer for company (much to his dismay). However, he absolutely could stop people from going to you first. As he stood over the last soon-to-be-corpse, panting from the adrenaline, he came up with a plan.

Michael had always made his kills swift and brutal, leaving no room for anyone to think it wasn’t his work. But tonight, he changed it up a bit. He woke the last victim up, quickly grabbing him from behind.

“Wha…what?”

The poor boy was barely conscious as Michael put the knife into the other’s hand, using his own to guide him to slit his own throat. Of course, there was a slight struggle, but having a hangover and fighting against a killing machine worked against the last man’s favor, and the knife glided across the skin, breaking through with a steady trickle of blood. He fell to the floor in a position of apparent suicide, and Michael then got to work. He wanted it to seem that this poor boy had lost his mind and killed every member of the afterparty he had hosted himself, all because of an obsession with the person across the street - you. Michael staged the scene by changing the boy into his overalls (plenty of stupid people had been impersonating Michael, no one would think it was actually his.) On a piece of paper, he wrote down your typical schedule for any given week - no, he did not memorize it, and he certainly didn’t repeat it to himself like a mantra when he needed to focus. Don’t be stupid. To anyone who’d see the scene, it would look like an obsessed maniac realized you were out of his grasp, lost his mind, killed all his friends and then himself. The police would likely put together that you were his target, and they would likely question you, but Michael knew you wouldn’t say anything. If anything, you’d probably assume they meant him, and would be absolutely shocked when it would be revealed to be someone else. Maybe you’d put together that it was all an elaborate ruse from Michael. 

Maybe you’d thank him.

Michael stole a change of clothes and left, leaving the knife as proof of the crime clearly not committed by him, a small bottle of cold medicine he found on the nightstand rattling in the pocket of his pants.

As he expected, the house was quiet when he returned. Well maybe not expected, but that’s what he wanted to greet him. He hated when you stayed up for him, as if you were an old married couple (deception and avoidance was his game, it was only a matter of him before he fell victim to it himself). You were his captive, and would likely end up being his victim too (deception). There was no love in his heart, in this home, anywhere close to him. He’s a killer, and only a killer (avoidance).

So why do his hands twitch when he thinks of you? Why does his body move on its own, craving your warmth and touch?

You were still asleep when he got to the bedroom, breathing shallow. He set the medicine bottle on the nightstand closest to you, going into the bathroom to make sure he was free from any blood before he joined you bedside. The dip in the mattress woke you up enough for you to open your eyes to see a bottle of cold medicine left for you (don’t mind the dark red smear on the label).

“Thinking of me even during a bloodbath?”

You sat up and took two of the small pills, washing them down with the glass of water you had gotten earlier in the night. When you laid back down, you were pulled into the grasp of your oh-so-thoughtful killer. You felt his face nuzzle into your hair with an uncanny tenderness- wait. His face? Like, the actual one?

“Your mask- where is it?”

He opted to not respond, instead pulling you further into his chest. You quietly hummed, too tired to press it any further. You reached back and grabbed his hand and pulled it close, right on top of your heart.

He huffed in response.

[rosie-kairi]

I don't think I've ever really spoken in depth about how much I love Lauriam as a character, which is honestly a crime because out of all the Union Leaders I'd probably have to crown him as my number one favorite.

I love Lauriam not only as a character (pink, sibling plotline) but also as an example of how much prequels can recontextualize an entire character. While Ventus is also an example of this, I think we all knew that he probably had some sort of messed up past that landed him in the clutches of Old Man Xehanort. Marluxia, on the other hand, had absolute zero background to infer from his screentime. He was the villain, you're not really meant to think too hard about him and how he became who he is because he sucks and you hate him.

I don't think there were many people chomping at the bit wanting to get info about his past. Like, it would've been cool to get, but I don't think a background for Marluxia was necessary for the story at that point in time. His role was to establish the organization as a threat to Sora and the other guardians, and that was pretty much the extent of it.

And then Union X happened, and Lauriam entered stage right into a tragedy where his fate was already sealed. You look at Lauriam with his polite little smiles and cute little chibi animations and immediately think "what is this man up to" because you are already primed to distrust him on principle due to COM. Did not help his case that he was introduced in the cutscene immediately following the death of Strelitzia, painting a huge target on his back. Fandom reaction was hostile towards him before he was even fully on screen. Occam's Razor, the most obvious answer is the correct one. Lauriam is the obvious suspect because of his actions in the future, so he must be the killer. Literally him just existing in a scene caused more ire to build against him.

But then the Shift Pride cutscene happened. Then it was revealed that Lauriam and Strelitzia -the girl who so many thought he killed- were siblings, and that he was quite worried for her wellbeing, actually.

Every cutscene a clearer picture of who Lauriam is a person was painted, and soon you stopped looking at him with distrust, and it's replaced with the question of "What happened to you?". What happened that caused Lauriam, someone who has been shown to care deeply and immensely about the people he loves, someone who is willing to do anything for those people, become Marluxia? It became increasingly obvious that they were incredibly different people, even though Marluxia came from Lauriam.

And this isn't to say that there was no connection between the two. Lauriam seemed to be incredibly self-confident in his abilities, enough to be pretty steadfast in his resolve to square up with goddamn Maleficent of all people (even if he did get his ass kicked). There's also his very intense anger, as seen in the cutscene where Ventus confesses to being the reason why Strelitzia "vanished", as well as a bit in the scene where he's at Ventus's bedside.

This is all to say that Lauriam was not a necessary addition to the khux cast, he very well could've been swapped with a random new character and the plot probably would've worked fine, all things considered. But because it's Lauriam -the somebody of a character that has already been established to be a prick- it gives his whole plotline a hell of a lot more punch. If it was a new character, people probably wouldn't have been as distrusting of him right of the bat, the sibling plotline would be sweet, but because it's Lauriam and we know how he ends up in the future, it becomes a hell of a lot more tragic. How did the change happen? He's tragic because we know that whatever he does will lead to the outcome of him losing his heart and falling to darkness, something that is essentially the exact antithesis of the keyblade wielder mission statement.

Lauriam is someone who was made to struggle against the destiny that was written out for him with a neat pen and ink, and someone who was doomed to fail in every regard. He could not save his sister, he could not defeat Maleficent, he could not help Ventus, he could not keep his memories when thrown into the future. He couldn't do anything about it.

I realize this is all rounding back around to "the inherent tragedy of prequels" but it's true.

...and yeah that's basically it. I have a lot more thoughts about this guy but I feel like if I write anymore I'm just gonna sound completely incomprehensible bc I'm very tired. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to sparkle on

[covid-safer-hotties]

preserved in our archive

By Jason Gale

Hi, it’s Jason in Melbourne. Almost five years after Covid‑19 broke out, scientists are still unraveling its pathological modus operandi. Before I get into that...

Toxic blood effects Clotting disorders in Covid patients were spotted by researchers in China in early 2020, but the true extent of the risk only became clear when even patients with mild respiratory symptoms began experiencing strokes.

At first, doctors suspected these clots might result from a “cytokine storm” — an intense immune response releasing a surge of inflammation-signaling proteins. Others noted that the virus could directly damage blood vessel linings.

But Katerina Akassoglou, a neurovascular brain immunologist at the Gladstone Institutes and UC San Francisco, wasn’t convinced that the virus itself wasn’t a cause.

Navigating social distancing requirements that complicated lab work, Akassoglou and her collaborators conducted a series of experiments in mice to explore the pernicious role of the coronavirus’s spike protein.

They discovered that beyond serving as the virus’s “key” to enter cells, spike binds with a blood clotting factor called fibrinogen, creating structurally abnormal, inflammation-promoting clumps of fibrin — the insoluble material that forms the mesh-like structures essential for wound healing.

High levels of these abnormal clots not only push the body’s clotting system into overdrive, increasing clot formation and inflammation, but also suppress natural killer cells — the immune system’s virus-clearing soldiers.

When this damaging cycle occurs alongside a breakdown in the protective layer of cells around the brain’s blood vessels, toxins and bloodborne proteins, including fibrin, can seep into the body’s most vital organ. Once there, these substances activate microglia — the brain’s immune cells —which begin attacking healthy brain cells, contributing to the neurological symptoms of long Covid.

Akassoglou had been studying this damaging cascade for decades in patients with Alzheimer’s disease and multiple sclerosis. Still, until SARS-CoV-2 came along, she had no idea it could be triggered by a viral infection.

“For some reason, this virus has evolved to interfere with the coagulation system in a way that other viruses do not,” she told me. Fibrin’s role in driving toxic inflammation is common in many diseases, but “in the presence of spike, it gets a lot worse.”

In experiments with mice lacking fibrinogen, Covid leads to much less inflammation, and the infection clears faster. “Studies suggest that if you deplete fibrin, inflammation improves, no matter what initially triggers it.”

Although Akassoglou’s focus has been on the brain, she’s hopeful this research will be expanded to understand the effects on the heart, liver, kidneys, and gastrointestinal tract.

In the meantime, she’s developing a way to halt this damaging reaction. A first-in-class antibody treatment designed to specifically block fibrin’s toxic effects entered early-stage patient studies in May, with no reported safety concerns so far.

Results are expected next year and could lead to more advanced clinical trials to test the immunotherapy’s potential to treat not only long Covid but also other serious diseases like multiple sclerosis and Alzheimer’s.

[miss0atae]

Random Thoughts about The Heart Killers (EP 1 – 6) : An interesting Rom-Com with morally grey characters.

The long awaited post I've wanted to make, but always failed to do properly. Since we are not getting an episode today (which is a damn crime because the wait is killing me!), I've decided to feed my poor soul with some writing about the series. I won't add anything that haven't already been said on here, so I won't feel sad if you don't pay attention to this post. It's just me screaming in the void of internet to try thinking about something else. I knew I would like this series (I like the actors, the directors, the plot… everything has been set according to my own taste), but I try to reason with me. You shouldn't put too many expectations on a series, otherwise you're at a risk of being disappointed. I also give better advice that I never really follow, so yes I had expectations and until now they have been fulfilled. I would be lying if I didn't say that at one point or another I was really annoyed by the characters' actions. I tend to forget that the series is 12 episodes and I'm looking forward to seeing the sweet scenes between the main couples (real ones with no lying). I was promised a rom-com, so don't be mad at me for being a little fool here. I'm a bit impatient as you can see. However, I know that I shouldn't react in the heat of the moment so I waited until now to write something about The Heart Killers.

Usually, in a rom-com you get characters that are archetypes usually found in this type of story. In the Heart Killers, most of the characters are neither good neither totally evil (except maybe Mother, but she may also have a good side, who knows). All characters have their strengths and weaknesses and they may appear on different sides, but they all have a strong, justifiable reason for doing what they are doing. I've making this grid for a while now. I may have forgotten some information, but it's just my own perception of the series so far. Things may change in the coming episodes.

So why was I annoyed by the characters at one point or another? I guess one part of the reason is that I forgot the structure of a rom-com because of the unique setting the screenwriters and the director put our main characters in. Any rom-com follows a certain structure in three times I would say.

• The first part is the presentation of the setting, the characters and their unfulfilled needs.

• The second part is when you have the meet-cute (or not so cute) between the characters. It is followed by the honeymoon stage until obstacles arise at the midpoint and the relationship is in jeopardy (that's where we are right now in the story). Usually, it's when the couple break up or start to have doubts.

• The third and final part is the moment of realization where the characters can view themselves outside the relationship and decide what are their new desire and goals. It leads everyone to the final of the story that usually ends on a happy note or at least give the viewers some hope for the characters if they don't end up together (my personal choice would be a happy ending for everyone, but I like to be surprised).

We've seen the first part already and have moved on the second part. I believe in the Heart Killers the break-up part could be different. Will the characters really break-up now that they think they have understood the needs of the others?! I don't think so. I believe they are all going to pretend to be together to try to outmatch the other ones and to learn the truth. They believe they are in opposite sides, but the truth is their main enemy who is working against their desire/happy ending remains Mother and to a lesser extent Keen (until Mother works against him and he may become an ally to the main leads). We could probably add the Captain too.

So, even knowing that, the question remains: why was I annoyed by the characters, despite loving everything else?! It's because I viewed them through my own sets of value while forgetting who they are and the setting of the series. To be fair, I'm used to rom-com characters who usually are not morally wrong. Here, in this story, none of them is really right or wrong. After all, they are on different standpoints and the perspectives they can reach are not the same. They represent different sides with different views (sorry I'm rambling here). I would say, Style may be the only characters who didn't have a criminal past and his worst fault is that he didn't flirt (at first) with Fadel for love, but for greed to possess Kant's car. The other characters, Kant, Bison and Fadel, all are or were a criminal at one point. Does it mean that criminals can't fall in love because what they are doing is morally wrong? The story doesn't agree with this point, as all of them were dragged to this because of something external. Kant needed money to take care of his brothers and Fadel and Bison were forced into this line of work by their “guardian” Mother who pretends to make them go after other “criminals” because the justice system isn't doing the right wrong. In some way, she isn't wrong, as the only “justice” figure we meet in the story is Captain Christ. He isn't a nice guy too as he is threatening Kant to force him to do his work in exchange for freedom from his past.

The idea of writing morally grey characters is interesting as it maintain the suspense, both in the relationship between the main leads, but also in the core structure of the story. The characters had needs at the beginning of the story, but their desire slowly changed by interacting with their lovers and other characters. It is also good for viewers as they have the opportunity to prefer one side over the other one. I changed my mind a lot during those six episodes. I was feeling terribly sorry for Bison when I saw Kant's playing with his heart, but in the last two episodes, I understood how hard it must be for him to keep pretending while also falling in love, despite knowing the truth. I was amused by Style's aggressive flirting with Fadel, but also felt annoyed on behalf of Fadel as I noticed how his "secret life" was putting a toll on his mental health. Choosing to have morally grey characters work better with the setting of the story. Otherwise, who would root for hitmen to fall in love? The fact we care so much about the actions of the main characters and what impact it will have on their romantic relationship, confuse us and make us anticipate the next move they may make. It also allows the true villains of the story to actively continue working against our main leads' happiness. The ones who really gain from the new feud between the main couples are the Captain and Mother. They may believe they are in their rights, but they use the main characters as chest pieces, without regard for the toll it can have on their well-being.

Mother is using the maternal figure she has set to control Fadel and Bison's action. She is pretending to care about them. She willfully taught them how to be hitmen to supposedly kill other criminals. The reason may appears good, but the actions are not valid. You can't Pay Evil unto Evil. She pushed our characters in this place by using the death of their parents as an example of failed justice. She knows much buttons to push to keep them in the place she wants them to be. Mother pretends to understand that they are tired of being hitmen and that this job will be the last one, but will it really be the last one? She also purposely and actively works against their happiness, by keeping them lonely. Bison and Fadel may think they are in controls, but the viewers can see, they don't really have a say in their actions or life. They never settled before and they don't really know how to. They find a different way to cope with this, but deep down they are still prisoners of what Mother has made of their life. As for Kant, he is also being controlled by the Captain who knows about his desire to protect and care about his younger brother. He uses his criminal past to make him an informant. Unlike Mother who pretends to act as a true mother to the brothers, he doesn't lie about his real view of Kant. However, just like her, he knows much buttons to push to keep Kant working for him.

As for me now, I can’t wait for Bison, Kant, Fadel and Style to overcome the lying part and the feeling of betrayal they will have regarding their relationship, so they can all be on the same side and fight against their real enemies.

[craziestfangirl98]

It's been three episodes of The Heart Killers and we are getting into the story almost like quicksand. Slowly and then in too deep where we wouldn't even know how we reached there.

I guess it makes sense. I am liking how it is going so far. I love that around everything there is an under current of choices and what is in your capacity to change that is a big part of the story. I think it gives an interesting dimension to a story about questionable people (assassins, thieves, and (1) chaotic gremlin who probably has not revealed his true colours (immediately also thinking of @respectthepetty 's post on colours circa ep 3 just now)) doing questionable things (killing, maiming, drunk driving/texting and driving, crossing boundaries, drugging and questionable sex under the influence of alcohol). All the things each of them have done, within the context of the larger scheme of things sometimes feel like they come from a place of helplessness, some are character choices made with no thought about consequences but all in all, everyone of them so far has made awful choices on many occasions. But what makes it interesting for me is that these actions haven't been shown with a morality construct as such. Maybe it will come later on (I hope not) maybe it won't, either way, it becomes a point to note I think.

Another big big point it has made me question. To what extent are they gonna weaponise attraction. To what extent are they willing to use their body to get where they know the results for what they are hoping can be found. Once again, I don't mean it in a 'they need to be policed way'. Rather, the transactional nature of sex, attraction and lust (maybe love as well?) is extremely indicative of the power that it holds in deception and assumptions so far, and I find it extremely significant to the story. I know the running gag around the fact that it's a high heat bl from GMMTV that's been discussed so far. I've seen the discourse around whether or not it has a meaningful story or it is just a high heat series that sells sex without a story. I firmly land in the corner that says, the story lies, very integrally in the high heat scenes of the series so far. It portrays excellent commentary on what is lacking and why none of them are in a relationship currently or can be unless huge plot points around communication, honesty, trust, power, and truth get sorted out. All of the things that are necessary in a relationship. As far as I remember, the Taming of the Shrew, discusses or touches upon these elements implicitly or explicitly. I might not be exactly right here, it's been about a decade since I've read it.

All this to say, Heart Killers so far is a story that as it stands currently, pertains to power, control and the navigation and negotiation of that, when everyone is trying to be in control (in whatever way they want to.) As much as its sex scenes have so far been extremely dubious and questionable in nature, they are there to support the story. Love has not even entered the equation for these boys and it's probably going to take some time for the same. The only way to reach there is a complete surrender of power from all sides, which might or might not be detrimental to the characters. Something that is up to how things actually pan out and what we end up getting.

[jayladfanpage]

Hi! Tq for the help. Sort of fanon-just-getting-into-canon writer here. I've read Barr's Detective Comics Run + Starlin's run for Robin Jason and UTRH + Lost Days + Countdown to final crisis for RH Jason. Going to be reading more but this is where I am at.

I just wanted to know, how would you approach a story where Robin Jason and RH Jason meet? What are the considerations from canon someone should take writing it? They're complicated, both of them. I don't think RH Jason even likes it all that much but morso deems it as 'necessary' and has made himself a moral casualty.

I'd be happy to have another viewpoint on this! But basically although Jason was an angry teenager, rightfully so, about the unfairness towards victims and the justice system itself being rigged against poor people (the whole diplomat's son fiasco and even adtif discussing immunity) I think he was the type to still view his bleeding empathy and compassion as righteous. I think he'd be vv put off by murder? Atleast the extent to which RH Jason is doing it?

Trauma changes people and grief is such a heavy driving force and I'd want to explore it but I feel iffy on many aspects.

How does RH Jason see himself? Does he see that love and open heart as weakness? It's a mess ;-; I feel my RH Jason characterisation isn't hitting at all. Does he have a moral compass (I don't think so???) Plus for all his love, he's also an asshole (imp information to me). Plus I just don't think Jason as a whole is suitable FOR vigilantism. It's an absolute mess. So if you have any input lmk! Tq.

— ヾ⁠(⁠*⁠’⁠Ｏ⁠’⁠*⁠)⁠/

OMG I LOVE LOVE LOVE TIME TRAVEL AUs!!!

I think a key part here is to not ignore Robin!Jason's anger. He was, generally, kinder and sweeter than Red Hood Jason is, but he was still angry and plagued by violent instincts. You can play this up, have Robin realize that if he continues on this cycle that he doesn't know how to break, he'll become Red Hood. He'll become apathetic to victims and grow hypocritial and, most importantly, alone. Jason, especially as Robin, is desperate for connection and affection. He would genuinely recoil at the idea of having no one that loves him -- it is, after all, what drives Red Hood to demand Bruce kill the Joker.

I do, yes, believe Robin Jason would be put off by the rampant murders. Not that Red Hood kills, I think after Felipe Garzonas he could realistically see himself becoming a killer even if you don't believe Jaybin pushed Felipe off, but he would be upset about the sheer extent of it.*

*You can tie in some of the Batman mythos here. Jaybin fully, throughly believes in Bruce's mission, fully believes that Batman is capable of saving Gotham. To see or know that Red Hood murders people would imply to him that he loses faith in Batman. It would break his illusion that Bruce is all-knowing and all-powerful, and that's GREAT angst potential.

Red Hood Jason believes himself to be right. Judd Winnick said on an interview something that's stuck with me-- Jason does not see himself as a crimelord. He does not see himself as a mass murderer or a villain. He believes himself to be a better Batman. Jason has full faith in his methods and his aggression, and he would not take kindly to anyone (especially a past version of himself) who told him he's wrong.

He does NOT view love and an open heart as a weakness. Red Hood is perhaps even more open with his emotions than Robin has ever been. He's loud about his feelings and he demands people listen to him, forces them to understand and sympathise with him. It hardly ever works, but he does try.

Lastly, Jason actually has a very strong moral compass, he's just wrong. He's headstrong and stubborn and sure of himself. He believes that his murders will change the world, he believes he's a good person. He thinks taking control of crime is the only way to truly stop it. He thinks if you're a horrible enough person then you're no longer a victim, you're a casualty.

None of that applies to himself, of course. He thinks he's good, and kind, and understands politics like nobody else does. He thinks he's saving people when he tells them to join him -- see Green Arrow (2001) #69-72 with Mia.

Hopefully this helps!! Don't be afraid to reach out again if you need anything else, and may the inspiration gods bless you!!<3

[ghostieeez]

꒰ა No Peeking ໒꒱

✧.* Hey Girly Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

✧.* Content: Ghostface x fem!reader, NSFW, 18+ minors DNI, obsessive behavior, jealousy, stalking, consensual non-consent, blindfolds, bondage, bdsm, choking, slapping, dacryphilia, hair pulling, edging, orgams denial, finger sucking, toe sucking, stabbing, vaginal sex, creampie, degradation kink, perverted!reader, bratty!reader

✧.*‎‎ Summary: You’re sick of Ghostface ignoring you all the time so you make a plan to get his attention. Based on this ask.

✧.*‎ Word Count: 5.2k | AO3 Link | Divider Cred

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ - ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀɴ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛꜰᴀᴄᴇ ʙʟɪɴᴅꜰᴏʟᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴇɴꜱᴜᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪꜱᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴇxᴘᴏꜱɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ɪꜱ

ɪᴅᴋ ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪᴛ ʜᴀʜᴀʜ ꜱᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴜɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜰ ᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ/ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛɪᴇ + ʜᴏʀɴʏ/ʙʀᴀᴛᴛʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴜᴜᴜᴜᴜ

Things were getting a little weird around your house.

At first, it was small things you noticed. Like a picture frame on your shelf being an inch to the right. That’s odd, you thought, but shrugged it off. You must have bumped it or something, no big deal. Sometimes doors in your house would be closed when you swore you left it open. You also noticed articles of clothing going missing from time to time. Sure your dryer loved to eat socks, but now you were losing random stuff too? It started with your favorite shirt, then a cute lacey bra you owned, and most recently a pair of tights too. You tried so hard to rationalize misplacing them but you were sure you last saw them in the dirty laundry bin. Definitely weird, but no cause for major concern… Right?

Things continued like that for a while, annoying for sure, but harmless. Until one day things weren't so harmless anymore. 

For example, knives in your home started going missing. It was kind of a bitch to cook dinner with only spoons and forks, plus how were you supposed to defend yourself if someone broke into your house? Some mornings you would wake up and a Polaroid picture of your sleeping self would be left on your nightstand. Pretty fucking creepy. Other times you’d come home from work to find your door unlocked. You would check the house for intruders but never found anybody. Still, it was obvious someone had been inside.

Clearly you had a stalker, not that it was a surprise.

You had made it crystal clear you liked being watched by Ghostface, and he made it clear that he very much enjoyed watching you. You never knew this was the extent of what you were signing up for when you slept with him, although with all the strange things he was doing, your infatuation with him only continued to grow.

One day you came home and your front door was actually cracked open. Oh fuck, you thought and your heart rate shot through the roof. He’s either here to kill me or fuck me, and both options had your adrenaline pumping. You carefully entered the house and checked everywhere for him, but yet again, he wasn’t there. You were actually disappointed.

Fucker. He was being such a damn tease. He could snoop around your house all day while you were gone but he couldn’t ever come visit you? It wasn’t like you wanted him to come stop by for long. You didn’t want dinner and a movie. You weren’t asking for sappy shit. You knew things would never be that way with him. You’d never be able to be close to him, you’d never know the real him, but a part of you had already come to terms with that fact. At that point you just wanted to have some more fun with him. After all, the way he touched your body had you desperately craving more.

After you inspected all the rooms in your house, you plopped on the couch and pulled your phone out of your pocket. You opened your text conversation with Ghostface. You never got around to saving his contact, something about that just felt incriminating… having a killer’s phone number saved. His penis has been in your vagina raw but sure girl let’s draw the line there.

The last three messages in the thread were from you. You had sent them a few nights ago. Your texts read heyyy then I’m bored and then the worst one of all, U up? You slapped your hand on your face in embarrassment. None of the messages had even gotten a response.

Not to say he never texted you.

He did, rarely. Every time you did get a text notification you practically pounced on your phone to see if it was from him, and when it was, you would feel so giddy. Yet for some reason in the past few days he was leaving you on delivered more and more frequently than ever. The thought crossed your mind, maybe he’s getting bored of me?

Maybe that would explain why he hadn’t come to visit. You hadn’t seen him or been touched by him in a few weeks. He seemed to love making you wait. You were so pent up and wanted to let some frustration out. Plus you were mad at him for leaving your door ajar, so fuck it, you decided to text him. It wasn’t like you could get any more embarrassed than you were from the horny texts you sent the other night.

Your fingers moved across the keyboard swiftly. Don’t leave my door open, you typed and pressed send. And stop leaving it unlocked too, you quickly added. You pretty much assumed you wouldn’t be getting an answer from him so you threw your phone on the couch and turned on the TV. It only took a few minutes until you felt a vibration from your phone. You grabbed it and glared at the screen. Oh shit, he responded!

It was an accident ;)

You let out a laugh. You could definitely imagine him saying that with his snarky voice. Yeah right asshole, I know it was on purpose, you sent.

His response came instantly, I would never!

You weren’t sure how to respond. This little bickering back and forth thing you had going was cute but how could you say “come rail me”  without sounding too desperate? Then again, maybe you shouldn’t push it, maybe should just enjoy the fact that you were getting a chance to talk to him at all since it didn’t happen often.

Suddenly you felt a little courageous. Why don’t u ever text me back?

Ha. You’re cute, was the text you got in response. The compliment did make your face flush but he didn’t answer your question so you sent him an angry emoticon. Your phone vibrated and you realized Ghostface was calling.

“What?” annoyance was clear in your tone.

He laughed. “Wow rude,” even with the modulator his voice was smooth as always. Hearing it sent a shiver running down your entire body. “I just meant it’s cute you have such a crush on me. You’re so attached.” 

Your first reaction was shock. A part of you even felt a little bashful. Yes he was calling you out but it wasn’t like he was lying. A crush… you hadn’t called it that but it was an accurate word to describe your feelings. You did have a crush on him. 

His words helped you realize something too.

“Oh, I’m so attached? Cause last time I checked I’m not the psycho stalker who breaks into people's houses, am I?” You said smugly, your lips stretching into a smile. “Maybe I have a crush but you’re the one who’s straight up obsessed with me.” The phone line was dead silent, no witty or sarcastic remark from him. In your book that was a win and you wanted to revel in the glory, so you continued, “What’s wrong Ghostie? Cat got your tongue?”

“And you enjoy it, so what does that say about you?” 

“I don’t-”

“I’m not done,” he cut you off, his voice was sharp. You gulped. “You think I don’t see you checking your phone every damn day, hoping so bad that you got a text from me? You think I don’t hear you moaning my name when you touch yourself at night? Hell even now you’re probably getting yourself off from my voice alone.” That wasn’t the case but the thought had already crossed your mind so you couldn’t even argue with him there. He kept berating you, “You’re like a little stray kitten so desperate for my attention. It’s kind of pathetic, doll.”

Ouch. That felt like a blow right to the chest. Pathetic? That’s what he thought of you? You’d be dishonest if you said you didn’t feel like crying after hearing that, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be mean you could be mean too. You already had a perfect idea in mind.

“Guess I’ll just have to go find attention from someone else then,” you said and ended the call. You switched on do not disturb mode. You didn’t want to hear anything else from him for a while. You checked the time and realized it was still somewhat early in the night, which would work out great for your plan.

You stood from the couch and headed to your bedroom. You grabbed the sluttiest, sexiest outfit the closet had to offer and wasted no time putting it on. It hugged your curves in all the right spots and made your body look great. You finished the look with a little makeup and fixed up your hair so it looked presentable. With that, you were ready. You grabbed your wallet and keys, shoved them in your purse, and headed out the door. You double checked that you locked it and walked down the driveway to your car.

-

Thankfully the drive was short. You pulled into the parking lot of the local bar, some place called the Tipsy Fox. You’d been there a few times with your friends and always had a good time. The drinks were always cheap and strong, thank god. You exited the car and went in.

Immediately you were greeted with bright flashing lights coming from the dance floor. The music was blasting but you could still hear the murmur of people talking and laughing. It wasn’t too crowded but there was still a good amount of people there. If you were lucky, Ghostface followed you there and was inside somewhere, watching you.

You headed towards the bar and made sure to make eye contact with any handsome man you walked by, giving a coy smile as you passed. One guy in particular seemed mesmerized by you. His eyes were glued to the sway of your hips and rear. Hook, line, and sinker. This is gonna be so easy.

You lifted yourself onto a barstool and crossed your legs. Your short clothing cupped the curve of your ass and exposed your thighs just the way you intended. You looked damn appetizing if you did say so yourself. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that guy get up from his seat and approach you. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked. The rest was history.

You two chatted for a little while you sipped on your drink. You had found out his name was Devin, not that it really mattered. You gave him your name as well. After a few drinks you were feeling pretty good. 

“Let’s go dance!” You grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. 

“Okay but I’m warning you, I’m not very good,” he said and laughed nervously. He was pretty cute. He seemed like a sweet guy and you were actually enjoying your night with him so far. 

You positioned yourself in front of him and draped your arms over his shoulders. He placed his hands on your hips. The two of you swayed to the music. 

“I’m having a great time,” you told him, speaking close to his ear so he could hear you over all the noise.

Your words seemed to give him a boost of confidence and he took hold of your hand and twirled you around so your back was pressed against his chest. You ground your hips backwards, moving along to the beat of the music.

The two of you danced for a while, laughing and spinning and fawning all over each other. This was the most fun you’d had in a while. It seemed like nowadays most of your time was spent daydreaming about Ghostface and this was a great getaway. With him, you were just used to one-sided text conversations, so being with a guy who actually paid attention to you was nice.

You wished you could spend all night on the dance floor with Devin but it was getting late and your feet were killing you. You told him you were going to head home and you hoped he would offer to take you to his place. 

Instead, he said, “Let me give you a ride home, you drank a lot more than I did.” You smiled. How sweet. He was right, you were pretty buzzed so there was no way you’d be getting behind the wheel. You’d have to pick your car up tomorrow.

The two of you left the Tipsy Fox and hopped in his car. You gave him directions to your house and he pulled into the driveway.

You sat in silence for a few seconds before you spoke, “Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah it was,” he replied.

“Did you… want to come inside?”

“As much as I would love to, I can’t. I have work tomorrow so I should head home and get some sleep,” he sounded disappointed. “But I’d love to see you again. Maybe you’d let me take you on a real date?”

You nodded and told him you would like that, so the two of you exchanged numbers. You leaned closer to him and glanced down at his lips. He caught on quickly and closed the distance between you two with a kiss. It only lasted a few seconds before you pulled away from each other. If Ghostface was watching you at any point of the night, you really hoped it was during that kiss. You said your goodbyes and hopped out of the vehicle and headed inside with a wide smile on your face. 

You checked your phone for the first time of the night and saw missed calls and texts from Ghostface. Good. Hopefully now he realized it didn’t feel good to be ghosted. You threw your purse down and walked towards your bedroom, slipping your shoes off as you stepped. Suddenly a hand was covering your mouth and another was wrapped around your throat squeezing with immense force. You couldn’t breathe at all. You thrashed endlessly, trying to free yourself from your captor’s tight grip, to no avail. All you could hear was the sound of your muffled screams as your consciousness slowly faded. The last thought running through your head was just oh shit.

-

You opened your eyes only to see pitch black. Your head was reeling in pain and everything felt fuzzy. You blinked your eyes a few times trying to adjust your vision to the darkness only to realize something was covering them. A blindfold. You could tell you were laying down in your bed but a quick attempt to sit upright made you aware that your arms and legs were bound. You yanked your limbs around and felt the burning sensation of rope digging into your skin. You were tied to the bedposts. What even happened?

Then it hit you. You had gone to the bar to try to make Ghostface jealous. Well… mission accomplished?

“Looks who’s finally awake,” his voice startled you and you flinched. He chuckled at your reaction. He was standing there so silently, you didn’t even realize he was in the room with you, watching you. Honestly, what else were you expecting? He walked to the side of the bed and reached to touch your blindfold, adjusting it to fit you perfectly. “No peeking,” he said in a teasing sing-song voice.

“Yeah, as if I even could. Untie me,” you demanded through gritted teeth.

“Hmmmmm…” You could imagine him tapping his finger to his chin, pretending to ponder the thought. “No.”

“W-why…” You trailed off, unsure what to say. How could you even get yourself out of this situation?

In an instant his hand was on your throat for the second time of the night. You coughed and sputtered loudly. He leaned all his weight onto your neck as he climbed on the bed and swung a leg over you so he was straddling your hips. He brought his other hand to your face and caressed your lips with his thumb, rubbing just so gently. You could smell the leather of his glove. 

His hand retread from your lips and before you knew it you felt a sharp, burning pain across your cheek. It took a second for you to register that he’d slapped you. You couldn’t help the groan that came out of your mouth. It hurt like a bitch but something about how aggressive he was being had you turned on already. It also served a reminder that you were completely helpless against him. Tied to the bed, blindfolded, unable to escape him. He could do whatever he wanted to you.

But… did you really want to escape though? The anticipation of not knowing what to expect next was exhilarating. Your heart was racing, body trembling, pussy throbbing. 

His hand came down hard on your face another time. Your skin felt like it was on fire and your jaw was already getting sore. His other hand released your throat. Before you could even gasp for air he had already dug his fingers into your hair and tugged your head harshly to the side. You heard him fidgeting with something for a second before he leaned his body down towards you.

“You are such a fucking slut,” his words practically dripped with venom. His voice sounded different though, there was no modulator. He had taken off his mask. His face was mere inches away from you. You were so close to him yet the damn blindfold would prevent you from getting a look. Frustrating. You heard ragged breaths coming from his lips. He was pissed.

“I’m not,” you said as you shook your head side to side weakly. His hold on your hair tightened.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me,” he raised his voice louder with each word. His hot breath fanned across your face as he continued, “You were all over that guy. I saw everything.” There were tons of other people in the bar so you weren’t surprised that he was spying on you from the crowd. It was exactly what you were hoping for. It was your plan to get him jealous, after all, plus you wanted him to experience how it felt to get ignored for a night. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of your mouth. Smack! His hand left another painful sting on your face. Your whole body jolted in surprise. With the blindfold on you had no clue what his next move would be. You knew you were going to regret what you were about to say, but the words were already leaving your mouth before you could stop them. 

“Aww, it’s cute how attached you are,” you taunted him in a sugary sweet tone, using his own cruel words from earlier against him.

You braced yourself for a slap but one never came. Instead, you felt a blazing pain on your arm. Tears pricked the edges of your eyes and you wailed out. He had pierced you with his blade. You couldn’t tell how deep it was, but you knew it was deep enough to hurt like hell and that’s all you could even think about. You felt blood oozing from the wound immediately. Your sheets must’ve been ruined.

“Admit you’re a slut and maybe I’ll think about making your punishment less painful.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line, refusing to say anything to him. He twisted the knife in your flesh causing an even more intense pain to shoot through your arm.

“Okay! I-I’ll say it, just take the knife out,” your voice was quivering. Apparently he still wasn’t happy with that. The blade kept twisting, tearing apart your flesh so slow and agonizing. You couldn’t take it. “Please, stop, I’m begging! Please! I am a slut. I’m s-so sorry!” you cried out.

Surprisingly, he stopped, and the blade withdrew. You were about to let out a sigh of relief when you felt him shove his fingers into your open wound. You actually screamed, that’s how bad it hurt.

“You are mine,” he spat the words at you. “You belong to me, and only me.”

Your head was clouded with pain, it was hard to even form coherent thoughts. All you could muster was a tearful “I’m sorry.”

“I want to hear you say it,” his voice was demanding, and the suffering he was causing you was unbearable.

“I belong to you…” You felt so embarrassed saying the words. Yet at the same time, a part of you liked saying it. And even if you didn’t want to admit it, you liked hearing him say it too. His possessiveness was hot as fuck. Apparently your plan worked a little too well.

He removed his fingers, but the torment wasn’t done. 

“Aw, are you actually blushing?” He laughed at you and your shame only intensified. Your face felt so warm. “You like this, don’t you?” 

“Yes…” you answered. You couldn’t help how quiet your voice sounded.

“Are you going to behave for the rest of the night?” He asked. You felt his hand rubbing your arm gently, almost sweetly. You nodded in response. “Good, that’s my girl.”

You felt him lean down and suddenly he was kissing you. The act took you by surprise. You felt butterflies in your stomach. He wasted no time deepening the kiss. He licked along your lips, which you opened willingly. Your tongues twirled sloppily and you loved every second of it. He moved a hand to your breast and started massaging it. He pulled away from you, leaving a trail of spit connecting your two mouths. 

“Let’s get these out of the way,” he said and before you knew it he was cutting off your clothes, the ones you had worn to the bar. He wasn’t exactly being the gentlest, either. You felt little knicks from his blade as he weaved it between your skin and clothing. It took a few seconds for him to haphazardly shred the clothes and toss the scraps to the floor.

“Hey! I really liked that outfit,” you pouted. “Plus it made my ass look great.”

“Yeah it did,” it sounded like he was smiling. 

Now that you were completely bare, he started kissing your chest. He flicked his tongue over your nipples, licking slowly. He moved down your body, kissing, nipping, and biting along the way until he was lying flat between your legs and his lips were right in front of your pussy. Instead of licking you or touching you or doing literally anything you were craving, he remained still. The excitement was nearly killing you.

“Ghostface… please…”

He leaned his head against your leg and bit down on your thigh. You couldn’t help squirming as he gave you an array of hickies. He was being rough. He might’ve even drawn blood in some areas but you couldn’t tell for sure. Your pussy felt achingly ignored. He was definitely doing it on purpose.

“I need you, please,” you whined.

“Need me to what, kitten?” The name caught you off guard. That was what he called you earlier when he said you were desperate for his attention; a stray kitten.

As embarrassed as you were to say the words, you spoke anyways, “Need you to touch me. I want you so bad.”

He laughed. “I already am touching you.”

“You know what I mean!” You startled when you felt his finger swipe a line up your pussy, gathering your slick on his finger. Your surprise quickly turned to arousal.

“So wet for me already,” he said and continued to move his finger ever so slowly. He touched it to your clit and circled it around your entrance teasingly. It felt like he was going for hours when in reality it had just been a few minutes. You were getting impatient.

You heard him spit and felt a glob of his saliva dripping down your folds. With that, he finally pressed his finger inside of you. It felt amazing. He added another finger and pistoned the digits in and out. You were already moaning but the intensity increased as soon as you felt his tongue start swirling around your clit while he fingered you.

“Ohh fuck, that feels so good,” you said. You could already feel your climax approaching and knew it wouldn’t take much longer. His tongue felt wonderful as he lapped, licked, and slurped you up like you were the last meal he’d ever get to eat.

Just as you felt your orgasm about to boil over, he removed his fingers and tongue from your body. 

You instantly cried out in disappointment, “Ugh! I was so close!”

“I know,” was all he said, then resumed the motions. Tongue licking, fingers curling and stretching you so deliciously. The both of you were moaning in sync. It wasn’t long until you felt your release approaching once more.

Just like the time before, he stopped, preventing your orgasm.

It continued like that for what felt like eternity. Your legs were shaking, your breathing was rough, and you felt so damn frustrated. Every time you got close, he stopped completely. As undignified as it was, you had even tried begging, “Please, please let me cum. I promise I’ll never even look at another guy. I just want you.” 

“What makes you think you deserve to cum?” Was his response. “Dirty whores don’t get rewarded.”

You groaned. At that point you were wondering if he planned on doing this to you all night. He had mentioned something about a punishment earlier and this sure felt like one. You finally broke when he pulled out his fingers for the sixth damn time. Tears spilled over the edges of your eyes and flowed past the blindfold, down your face.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you said, voice trembling, quiet sobs wracking through your body. “Please, just s-stop already.”

“Poor little baby,” he said, his tone clearly mocking. He reached a hand up to your face and wiped the tears off your cheek. “But you look so pretty when you cry. It’s really turning me on.” He moved upright and positioned himself in a way that had his cock pressed against your pussy. He still had his clothes on but you could feel that he was hard. He rocked his hips back and forth slightly and even that small amount of friction felt so amazing. He pulled his member out of his pants and brought it right back to your entrance. You were hoping he’d hurry up and put it in, but of course he didn’t. He slapped it on your pussy, prodded at your hole, and rubbed the tip on your clit.

You really just wanted to scream. You tried to wiggle your hips to encourage him, but you didn’t have much mobility since your limbs were tethered to the bed.

“I want to hear how bad you want my cock.” He pressed the tip into your hole ever so slightly, just to take it right back out. 

“I want it so bad! Please, put it in.”

“I don’t know, doll. It doesn’t sound like you’re trying that hard to convince me.”

After everything you had been through that night, you were sure you had no pride left anyway, so you went all in. “I can’t get you out of my head, okay? I spend all day thinking about you. Wishing you were paying more attention to me, wishing you would touch me. I only went to the bar because I just wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to see if you even cared. You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had and I literally can’t stop fantasizing about it. I’ve been begging for it all night, would you please just fuck me already? What more do I have to say to-”

Before you could finish he shifted his hips forward and slammed his cock into you. You couldn’t help the slew of curses and moans that came from your mouth as he pounded aggressively. 

You heard a slice and the tautness of the ropes that were tied to your ankles decreased. He had cut your legs free. You wondered why for a second before he grabbed hold of your foot and brought it up to his mouth.

“What are you doing-” His tongue darted out and licked one of your toes, before taking the whole thing into his mouth and sucking. You tried to pull your foot away but he held it tight in place. “H-hey, stop that! I’m ti-ticklish!” You couldn’t even get the sentence out without giggling between nearly every word. He continued to suck one toe at a time. His tongue danced around each one, and that combined with his hard thrusts had you wriggling and writhing like crazy. It was such an interesting sensation but you couldn’t say you disliked it. 

He kept snapping his hips forward, rutting into you, rough as ever. He moved both of your legs so that they were placed over his shoulders. With the new position it felt like his cock was buried so deep inside of you. He leaned down towards you and kissed you while he fucked you. 

He pulled away from the kiss and said, “Open your mouth.” Your mind was so hazy with lust you didn’t even question it. You opened your lips and your tongue lolled out. You felt something wet dripping into your mouth and realized he had spit in it. Fuck, that’s hot, you thought. He brought his thumb to your tongue and smeared his saliva around. He wasn’t wearing his gloves and you could taste his skin. “Suck it,” he said, shoving his thumb deeper into your mouth, and you obeyed.

He was ramming into you with such speed and force. All that was coming from your mouth was slurred praise and whines for him to fuck you harder. With just a few more strokes, you finally reached orgasm for the first time of the night. Your legs felt like putty and you could barely hold them up anymore.

“Want you to cum in me,” you said. “Pleaseee, Ghostface!” You got what you asked for and you were happy to feel bursts of his cum shoot into you. You were on cloud nine. 

You felt so empty as he pulled his cock out of you. His semen rushed out of your hole onto the sheets, which were already stained with your blood so you didn’t care much about the mess. You both were silent for a few seconds while you caught your breath. He got off you and you heard shuffling so you assumed he was getting dressed.

He cut the remaining ropes off you, finally. You were about ready to rip that damn blindfold off. Before you could, he grabbed hold of your chin and jerked your head to the side so he could whisper in your ear, “Next time you piss me off, I won’t be so nice.”

You made a mental note to get him angry way more often.

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 31 - A Practical Guide to Anger Management For Pirates

The unholy spirit really had me by the throat writing this one. Come get yo’ KidxKiller smut.

A/N: Hi, new updated look for this fic, hope you like it. I'll work on updating the old chapters at some point but all future ones will look like this~

Word Count: ~4.5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

Five days had passed since the Quincy-dent, and you found yourself sitting out on the skull at the front of the ship, enjoying a cool breeze. You couldn't do much else anyway, Mohawk was being strict about not exerting too much energy, and Killer and Heat were watching you like birds of prey making sure you followed doctor’s orders. You'd barely made it out of the ‘danger zone’ as he was calling it, and he was still very much worried that your heart would suddenly fall into an irregular rhythm, even if you were feeling fine other than the visible wounds. It turned out you'd been unconscious for the better part of the day and night, about fourteen hours all together, which given the extent you’d used your devil fruit was not super crazy, even without the injuries. The bullet had grazed an artery in your leg, and you were lucky it hadn't hit it more directly, but you had lost a significant amount of blood before Mohawk had it under control. Not enough to kill you or hurt your baby, but certainly enough to make you pass out. Your heart stopping and the side effects of trying to heal the large burn on your chest had you exhausted, even without Mohawk's bedrest orders you probably would have slept most of the last five days anyway. This was the first time since the fight that you’d had any real fresh air, with the exception of Killer carrying you from the infirmary to your shared room when Mohawk was confident you'd be okay with oral painkillers and nausea meds.

Not that it felt like they were helping though, it felt like your injuries and pregnancy were fighting for the crown of what could make you the most nauseous, and with the lowered mobility from your leg you'd accidentally thrown up in the bed the first morning back in Killer's bed. Which of course resulted in an absolutely inconsolable, pregnancy hormone fueled breakdown while Killer tried his best to clean up and assure you that it was okay, and that he'd cleaned up worse messes from Kid. Pregnancy was a real bitch, but at least now you had a convenient bucket sitting next to the bed until such time as your leg didn't have you hobbling. You also started keeping a sleeve of crackers on your side table, after accidentally discovering when you woke up hungry that shoving a cracker in your pie hole first thing in the morning actually considerably helped the nausea.

While you’d been on bedrest you’d passed the ten week mark of your pregnancy, and Mohawk assured you that the morning sickness would likely stop soon, as you were coming to the end of your first trimester. Which was hard to believe, given you'd only known about it for a few weeks. Some of your tighter skirts were no longer fitting, given they had to account for not only pregnancy but also in general the weight you’d put on since buying them when you first joined the crew, so you were looking forward to the next island to buy more dresses. You’d mostly just been living in Killer's shirts for the last week, since you hadn't gotten around to moving your things to his room and the looser fabric was more comfortable over your burns. You weren't bothering with pants, Killer's shirts were like dresses on you anyway and this was the first time you’d even left the bedroom since he'd carried you in. You'd been taking every chance you could to check in on your baby, who was now the size of an apricot, but Mohawk urged against it. Apparently more well off women who could afford their own personal ultrasound machines were known to cause themselves unnecessary stress by making themselves feel like they had to constantly check on the baby. You couldn't help yourself though, especially now that the jelly bean was starting to wiggle, though you couldn't feel it yet.

As for Kid, he had tried to speak to you, but Killer had banned him from the room, worried that he'd spike your heart rate again. As far as you knew, or rather as far as Heat had told you, the two of them hadn't talked outside of planning for the marine base raid, which for obvious reasons you would not be taking part in. The original journey to the next island the log pose was set to was due to take a week, but the maps you'd pinched from the marine ship indicated the base was about three days from the island, and about another day's sailing from your current location. The overall additional two days added to the plans wasn't a lot in the grand scheme of things, so the other commanders had agreed it was worth the slight detour to raid the base, especially since it was supposed to be a quite manageable size.

The breeze was so nice on your face, your unfastened hair fluttering slightly, the wind catching under your borrowed shirt and cooling your skin. You crinkled your nose as you heard the distinct heavy footsteps of your captain approaching from behind you, but you chose to ignore it for as long as possible.

“Still mad at me?” He leaned against the skull and looked at you with his best impression of a innocent expression.

“Well, let's see,” you laid back against the skull, watching the clouds pass overhead and lifting a hand to count off items on your fingers, “you completely disregarded my unborn child, and then you brought a idiot on board who nearly killed said child, and at the same time injured me enough that Mohawk has banned me from participating in any physical activities, so my fantasies of finishing what I started the other day and being in bed with two men has been entirely ruined. But hey, at least you're getting laid, right?” You huffed to punctuate your point, still mourning your interrupted romp with Killer and Heat.

“Who said you can't still be in bed with two men?” Kid asked, his chin resting on his flesh arm as it rested on the skull.

“Respectfully, captain, are you stupid?” You half laughed, “did you miss the part where I'm not allowed to do anything physically exerting?”

“Who said you have to do shit, make the men do all the work,” Kid added, like it was completely obvious, “let em get each other off, then make em eat you out or something, no need to lift a finger”

“Oh sureee, let me just go ask my straight boyfriend and my other definitely existent bisexual friend that I definitely have whether they want to fuck in front of me and eat me out after,” you frowned at him before turning your attention back to the clouds, “I'll get right fucking on that.” Kid let out a laugh, and you turned to shoot daggers at him. “The fuck you laughing at?”

“Killer hasn't told you shit about us has he?” Kid laughed.

“I mean I've guessed by now that the two of you like to share women, but what the fuck does that have to do with this?” You scowled at him.

“Yeah we shared women,” he affirmed, “men too”

You blinked at the clouds before turning to slowly face him. He was watching you with a playful glint in his eye. You huffed and looked back at the clouds, “Doesn't mean shit, I'm still pissed off at you. And so is he”

“You know what Kil usually does when he's pissed off at me?” Kid slid a little closer, his face close to where yours was resting, “he takes it out on me in bed. You think this is the first time we've fought? We've known each other for years, usually he just takes it out on my ass and gets over it. The only reason he hasn't done already this time is cos of you”

You were quiet while you thought about it, already having dirty thoughts about watching the captain get his ass handed to him by Killer. You sat up slowly, looking out to sea as you considered the proposition. Pros: Kid gets knocked down a peg, he and Killer make up, the rest of the crew stops having to pussyfoot around them, you get to watch two big beefy men go at it sloppy style, and finally, you can take care of the incessant need to get off that you'd had since your failed threesome. Killer was being so delicate with you, and you didn't want to get frisky with him when you knew you weren't capable of getting him off right now, it felt selfish. But god fucking damn you were horny.

Cons: none, fuck it let's do this shit.

“Okay, let's do it then,” you finally agreed. Kid was already excitedly shuffling, sailing at half mast at just the idea. He was hoping that Killer would be kind enough to let him be the one to eat you out, but either way he was going to be able to take care of the tension between him and his best friend, as well as getting railed by him for the first time in months. He hated to admit that he missed Killer's dick in his ass, the first mate hadn't touched him since coming back from the island after you both went overboard.

Kid looked back over the deck to see if he could spot Killer. It was already evening, chores were done, dinner had come and gone, and the planning for the base raid had already been completed, it was the perfect time to fuck around. The first mate was down on the main deck, training the newbies in agility. Every now and then his eyes flicked up to where you were, and he paused his movements anxiously, tensing up as he saw Kid was with you, but you gave him a reassuring thumbs up to let him know Kid wasn't causing any trouble. On the contrary, Kid had more than brightened your sour mood.

“He seems busy for now,” Kid noted, before turning back to you, “I gotta grab some shit from my room, me in your's in five. I'll go first so he doesn't get suspicious”

“See you in five then, captain,” you smirked, laying back down on the skull to look as casual as possible while you waited.

As promised, you headed for the bedroom five minutes later, and a few minutes after arriving, Kid let himself in with an armful of curious goods.

“Chuck this on the side table, then help me with this rope,” he threw you a small bottle. You could read enough now to know it was lube, you'd honestly forgotten men didn't make silk the way you did. The rope though, now that was curious. “He likes me bound when he's pissed,” Kid explained in reply to your raised brow, handing you the length of smooth red rope and removing his metal arm, setting it against a wall. You watched quietly as he undressed, biting your lip when you saw how big he was, already half hard. Was it some sort of requirement for commanders to be fucking hung on this crew? What the fuck.

It was a strange intimate atmosphere as he stood naked in front of you, entirely unashamed in his nudity, his heavily scarred side on full display. You stepped towards him, more curious than anxious, running a fingertip down the scar that ran from this armpit near his stump to his groin, and his breath caught in his throat, goosebumps prickling on his remaining arm.

“Sorry, I should have asked first,” you took a step back but he grabbed your hand gently, running a reassuring thumb over the back of your hand.

“It's okay, you're gonna have to touch me to do the ropes anyway,” you were both staring at where your hands were together before he let go and cleared his throat. “We should probably get started before he comes in here”

You'd never even seen shibari ropes in person, let alone tied them, but Kid was an uncharacteristically patient teacher as he walked you through it, making sure you were checking the ropes weren't too tight as you went, till he found himself kneeling on the bed, his good arm bound behind his back. It looked far hotter in person than it did in the dirty mags Heat had let you borrow.

“Okay, looks good, go get him,” he grinned eagerly at you as he got comfortable on the bed, his legs crossed as he sat and waited. You hurried off out to the deck, more than wet after having spent the last half hour breezing your fingers over your naked captain and binding him in decorative roping. A few soft kisses had even been shared between the two of you, like you were assuring each other as you went about tying the delicate knots.

“Kil!” You shouted to your boyfriend, quickly grabbing his attention as you practically slid towards him. His brow raised under his mask at how fast you were moving, given the fact you still had a limp. Killer dismissed the newbies as you hobbled over, sensing you required his attention given your speed.

“What's got you moving so quick, princess?” He chuckled.

“I have a gift for you,” you smiled innocently, “I know you're still mad at Kid, but I got you something I think will help”

“Okay, I'll bite,” his curiosity was piqued, and he scooped you up easily, holding you bridal style. “Where can I find this so-called gift?”

“It's in the bedroom,” you kicked your feet a little as he carried you towards the back cabins, and you giggled excitedly. You dropped down from his arms when you got to the door, covering the holes in his mask over his eyes as you led him through the door, careful to lock it behind you. “Keep em closed!” You told him, and he replaced your hand with his own as you quickly tore off your shirt, mask and shoes, leaving only your panties as you slid onto the bed, giving Kid a chaste kiss before positioning yourself sitting against the headboard. Your chest was still a tender, vibrant red from the burn, but it was healed enough to have done away with the bandages, though you were trying very hard to not be self conscious about it. Kid leaned back against you as you'd both planned, and he looked up at you as you ran a finger down one of the scars on his face, exchanging playful grins.

“Okay, you can open em!” You giggled.

For a moment Killer didn't move as he took in Kid's naked, bound body resting against you, your bare breasts almost resting on his red hair.

“Yin…” he started.

“Do you hate it?” You pouted, unable to read his neutral expression. You'd hoped he would be more enthusiastic, but maybe you'd gone too far in assuming he was okay with this after Heat. “Kid said you used to do this when you were fighting, I don't want you guys to fight anymore”

He let out a sigh, and you and Kid watched anxiously as he turned his back to both of you to remove his mask and place it on the dresser, ruffling his bangs before turning back to you.

“Don't be mad at her Kil,” Kid shuffled to sit up with a little difficulty given his bound arm, “it was my idea, I'll go if you want me to”

“Oh I'm definitely mad,” he growled as he turned back to both of you, and Kid audibly gulped, “not at her though. Never at her, my sweet princess.” He knelt at the edge of the bed, threading a finger under one of the ropes and pinging it, “Did you tie these princess?” He turned his attention to you and you nodded eagerly. “My clever girl,” he ran a finger under your chin, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. You preened under his praises, “such a good girl. Unlike some people, who need to be taught how to behave”

He grabbed the front of Kid's bindings and yanked him hard off of you, pulling him with significant force till he fell to the floor with a heavy thud that you were sure must have hurt, given he had no available arm to catch himself. You swore you heard a whimper escape Kid as he scampered to his knees. Killer grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to look up at him as he skillfully undid his belt one handed with his free hand. He pulled it from the loops in his jeans, and Kid eyed it with a nervous hunger, his cock now fully at attention.

“Present for me, pig,” Killer growled as he threw Kid back towards the bed. He leaned over the bed, his bound torso resting on the mattress and his feet still on the floor, his bare ass in the air. His pupils were blown out as he looked at you, and you crawled towards him curiously. Watching his face as Killer took the belt and folded it in half, before bringing it down hard over Kid's ass with an audible crack. Kid groaned, his eyes not leaving yours but the skin where his brows would be furrowing, and you broke out in a wide smile at seeing the usually so stoic and bossy captain laid out like this.

“Count,” Killer ordered.

“One,” Kid whimpered, before the belt came down again. “T-two,” by the fifth smack Kid was a mess, whimpering every time the leather made contact with his bright red ass, the skin starting to break a little in places. You'd never seen such violence in a consenting manner, it fascinated and aroused you as Kid struggled to keep the count and Killer dealt out a total of ten hard lashes. By the end Kid was panting, his face buried in your thighs where you knelt in front of him while you stroked his hair and cooed praises at how good he was doing. The stark contrast between your sweet words and Killer's harsh punishment was making Kid insane, precum already leaking and soaking into the blankets underneath him.

“Princess,” Killer got your attention as he discarded the belt and stripped down to his jeans, “did this idiot bring a bottle in here?”

“Yes!” You let Kid's head fall to the bed and grabbed the bottle of lube from the side table, handing it to him eagerly. He rewarded you with a kiss, hungry and wet and dominating, before pulling away with a wide smile.

“Go sit where you were again, you were doing such a good job sweetheart,” he stroked your chin as he spoke, “but spread your legs, I don't want him to get comfortable on your thighs incase his movement hurts your leg”

“Okay!” You climbed back onto the bed, sitting with your legs spread in front of Kid, who eyed your clothed centre hungrily. “Like this?”

“Perfect, princess,” he squirted a liberal amount of the lube onto Kid's ass, toying with his hole as he bent down over him, “if you're good for me maybe I'll let you get a taste of her. She's so sweet now with my baby in her. Like nothing you've ever tasted”

Kid whined and was chomping at the bit to try and get to you, making you giggle as Killer grabbed his ropes and yanked him back. Kid's eyes went wide as Killer simultaneously shoved a finger in his ass, the captain's head quickly dropping to the mattress with a moan as Killer pumped his hole, stretching him open till he could fit a second, and eventually, with some patience, a third.

“Be a good boy and tell me what you want,” Killer instructed as he finger fucked Kid's ass. You were holding his head up, stopping him from burying his moans or hiding his lust-addled face from you.

“I w-want- I want,” Kid whimpered.

“I want~ I want~” Killer mocked, making Kid jolt forward with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, “are you a man or a mouse? Spit it out”

“I want your dick!” Kid finally spat out, his face bright red with blush, no longer able to look at you.

“There it is, I thought you'd lost your voice,” Killer purred as he slid out of his jeans and applied a generous amount of lube to his erection, pumping it a few times to coat it before lining it up with Kid's ass. “And what do you have to say to our princess for allowing you in here?”

“T-thank you princess,” Kid stuttered, trying his best to look at you but only flushing harder as a result at your crooked but honeyed smile.

“Good boy,” Killer purred before grabbing the ropes that crossed over Kid's back and burying himself in his ass in one swift motion. Kid cried out and whimpered, and you stroked his hair once again and cooed to him in soft words as Killer fucked him at a brutal pace. You didn't even know he was capable of such a punishing speed, but then again you had been a virgin the first time you'd gotten together, and healing, then pregnant, since the second time. Kid buried his face between your legs, forcing them further open and making you moan as he grunted against you and pressed his nose against your clothed cunt. Your hands wove through his hair and pulled hard, holding him in place as you practically rode his face for friction. You alternated between watching where Killer's dick was buried in Kid's ass, and throwing your head back in pleasure. It this what it was like for Killer when he watched Heat fuck you? It was a high you'd never experienced before and your cunt was aching with need because of it.

“Killllll~” you whined, wanting his permission to let Kid go further, desperately needing something on you, inside you, anywhere and everywhere as long as it got you off. He grinned at you, enjoying the way you were greedily using the captain's face like it was a riding toy.

“Go on then princess, you've been so good, not that I think he deserves it,” Killer smirked, watching you pull your panties aside and roll your slick centre against Kid's eager tongue, which was out and waiting, begging to be used. You laid back against the bed, pulling Kid's hair as he ate you out and enjoying the sounds of the two men groaning and grunting. Kid's tongue thrust in and out of you, far longer and thicker than anyone else's you'd ever had, long enough to curl inside you deliciously before licking wide stripes up your cunt and sucking on your sensitive bud of nerves. Your orgasm was building hard and fast and you were positive you were going to squirt with the intensity it was approaching with.

Killer was using Kid's bound arm as a anchor as he fucked him, his pace never showing any mercy to Kid's abused ass, and you looked up and saw his eyes were shut, his brows furrowed and his mouth open and panting in a slight grin as he fucked the captain. He opened his eyes for a moment and they met yours, and the smug grin that spread over his face was more than enough to put you over the edge. As predicted, you came with a audible gush of fluid, Kid moaning loudly into you and shuddering as you coated his face, the sudden and unexpected release putting him over his own edge as his dick pulsed and spilled out, trapped between his stomach and the bed, his cum quickly rubbed into the bedding as Killer continued to penetrate him before finally letting out a long, deep groan and stilling. He made one last hard thrust inside Kid, as though making one last point, before pulling out, bending over Kid and resting his head against his back. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked down at Kid, his head still between your legs, whimpering. You reached down and tilted his chin up, his face glistening with your release, his lipstick smeared all over the lower half of his face and his eyeliner running down his cheeks from crying at the lashing and brutal fucking. He looked like an absolute dream.

Being somehow the most physically able of the three of you right now, after the excursion Killer had just gone through, you slipped off the bed and excused yourself to the bathroom. You quickly cleaned yourself up, discarding your soaked panties, and grabbed a damp cloth and a glass of water, wishing you'd had the foresight to bring some extra glasses in here before starting. You returned to the bedroom to find Killer had rolled off Kid, and was quietly stroking the captain's face as he laid next to him. You handed the glass of water to Killer before kneeling on the bed and gently wiping Kid's face, cleaning away the various fluids and ruined makeup. You ran the cool cloth between his ass cheeks, wiping away the messy lubricant, before urging him to roll over and wiping away his cum from his abdomen and cock. Killer sat up against the headboard, quietly watching you care for Kid the same way Killer cared for you after sex.

You threw the dirtied cloth in the vague direction of the laundry basket before starting to work away at the ropes, pressing soft kisses against the raw marks some of them had left. You'd tied it exactly as Kid had instructed, and Killer had checked the tension, but he'd yanked so hard on them that a few sections had left thin grazes against the captain's pale skin. His arm held your waist softly once you freed it, and your found yourself sitting in his lap by the time the ropes were entirely removed, your arms wrapped around his neck and your hand buried in his soft red hair, exchanging careful, intimate kisses and soft moans while Killer watched you, in awe of how tender you could be with a man you were once scared of, a man you'd once fled from when you thought he was going to kiss you.

Eventually you pulled away, eliciting a whine from Kid that made you smile, giving Killer a soft kiss as you took the empty glass from him and returned to the bathroom to refill it. You handed the glass to Kid and slid into Killer's lap, giving him equal attention while Kid drank the water greedily and recovered. The two of you laid down, sliding under the covers, still naked, and Kid finished his water, placing the glass on the side table and looking at the two of you longingly. Killer opened the covers behind himself and Kid eagerly slid in, sandwiching Killer between the two of you in a twist of limbs. Your chest was pressed to Killer's, and Kid acted as his big spoon.

“Are you guys still mad at me?” He mumbled against Killer's back.

“That depends, do you still want me to get an abortion?” You replied, a little colder than you'd expected it to come out.

“I'm sorry, I am,” he held Killer tight, making the first mate sigh. Killer's back became wet with tears as Kid pressed against it, “I just got so scared, I don't want my niece or nephew to be in danger because of my dream, but I don't want either of you to have to go away because of them. I don't wanna be alone”

“We're not going anywhere, Kid,” Killer assured him, knitting his fingers between Kid's over his chest.

“You have to do something about Quincy though,” you huffed, “the girl is a complete dolt, I'll forgive you if you take charge of her training”

“Deal,” Kid huffed.

“Uncle Kid huh?” You smiled.

“Shut up,” Kid grumbled.

“Neh,” you teased, “I like it”

You met Killer's eyes and he smiled at you, glad that the three of you had settled this stupid fight. You pressed your forehead against his as Kid started to snore softly, making you giggle at how quickly he'd fallen asleep. Reasonable though, given what he'd just been through. You gave Killer one last kiss before curling up against his chest to sleep, his chin resting on the top of your head as you both drifted off.

[NEXT CHAPTER]