#tw: corpse disrespect

[rainbowgod666]

Luz: ok but serioulsly, i saw you as Belos' brother, how did you pull that off? Also what was that gunshot-

Alex: oh its simple. I dug up caleb's corpse, "added" myself to it so I was LITERALLY him, aaaaand then shot myself after going "well I wanted to see my brother one last time, OH WELL!" And then you know the rest

(Everyone is still for 5 L O N G seconds)(everyone is spitting out their drink)

Luz: WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!?!?!???

Amity: W O W (insert fast clapping meme)

Hunter ;w; wtf man...

Willow: oh thats FOUL, like- wh- WHY? WHY WOULD YOU EVEN DO THAT? WHAT WAS THE THOUGHT PROCESS BEHIND THAT?

Vee: (fucking faints)

Masha: (a single tear) aaaaand there goes my innocence TwT

Collie: (pulls out CollectorPhone) (yeah he has one of those) ok, THIS is going in the "eldritch frens" group chat... should've listened to gabriel honestly, his ass wasnt lying this shit aint worth the risk fr fr

King: whY dID YoU dEsEcr a TE a COR P SE ???¿ (confused crying titan noises) (looks at collie) wHY THE FUCK DID ALEX- (looks back at me) WHY DID YOU DO THAAAAAT AAAAAA (is now basically a smexual sound effect because of the pain)

Gus: well, now im gonna feel scared of what I could pull off with my powers forever

Camila: (the thousand yard stare from Cyberpunk Edgerunners)

(By now everyone is either crying while smiling to avoid total ego death, fainted in the Family Guy Death Pose, doing a thousand year stare, OR screaming at me. Well, so much for being the good guy)

[memingursa]

Imagine getting this you? By Contrapoints like this.

Also like, Warning.

I Don’t even know what to trigger warning this with

It’s bad!

[thatfreshi]

Hi! Can I request a story about Tav having trouble fighting cause Astarion just fed on her and so he gets worried and protective ofc. Maybe they were ambushed at camp or something? Thank you so much for your work! I really like how you write Astarion

Tw - animal attack, lots of gore, themes of death

Recommended Song: Seek and Destroy - SZA

Against better judgment, you let Astarion feed on you almost every night. It's just one of those things, a sacrifice you make, an act of love. After decades of disrespect, scavenging for next to nothing, you thought it'd be nice for him to have something better than animals. While he always insists it isn't necessary, he never passes you up on the offer. A ritual before bed every night, like a lover's embrace, you've come to adore the feeling of his teeth.

This evening in particular, he took quite a bit. You don't mind, considering you go to bed almost right after. Light-headed, woozy, you're wrapped up in his arms.

"Thank you darling."

His embrace almost feels warm when you're this drained. You almost drift off, but he keeps you awake.

"Tav, you need to eat something first."

You groan, absolutely exhausted, trying to keep him in the bedroll.

"Nooo, I'll just do it tomorrow."

He smiles, moving your hair out of your eyes.

"That's not how it works my sweet. Now, let me get up so I can-"

Goblin war drums. The sound of the percussive rhythms bouncing off all the trees, they're not far off, and Astarion knows they're on the way. Karlach starts making her way to every tent, telling your companions to get their asses in gear.

"Tav, Astarion, let's go!"

"Shit."

Astarion whispers to himself. You're still not fully there, in and out of sleep.

"What's going on?"

Double vision, you see two of your vampire lover get up and start rummaging around for his daggers.

"Just- just stay here Tav. It's alright."

You try to rub at your eyes, desperately wanting to figure out what's going on. Before you can ask again, he's gone, and you hear more war drums outside. You quickly realize it's goblins. They must've found where you've been hiding, but your head is still spinning. Trying to get up and grab your blade, you almost fall back to the ground. Steadying yourself for a moment, you try your best to listen to what's going on outside. It sounds deadly, metal, screams. You hear Shadowheart casting left and right.

When you manage to stumble out of the tent, you're tackled by one of their dogs, or whatever wretched things they are. A scream rips out of your throat, trying to hold the thing off. It bites rabidly at your arm, leaving numerous gashes, until it's thrown off of you and stabbed to death, relentlessly.

"Gods damnit, I told you to stay in the tent Tav!"

You're too worried about your arm throbbing in pain to care about the validity of his argument. He's angry, and perhaps both of you aren't entirely certain why. It's your dominant arm, you can barely move it. Astarion goes to wrap your arm, but is quickly overpowered by the numbers again. They must've sent a large party after the lot of you. Halsin and Shadowheart are running out of magic, already drained. It's bad, but it'll end soon. With a couple more fights and a thunderwave from Gale, the rest of the goblins scurry off, knowing they're fighting a losing battle. Astarion doesn't even stop to loot their corpses, running to your side.

"You're a fucking idiot Tav, you know that?"

Gods, he could sound so mean when he wanted to. You know he says those things out of fear, but they still hurt. Despite how angry he is, he starts ripping pieces of cloth from his shirt, wrapping your arm, which is bleeding far too fast. Shadowheart and Halsin come over to supervise, both out of arcana until they get some rest.

"Yes, the two of you standing over my shoulder is quite helpful. Might as well cheer me on while you're at it!"

His movements are ragged, furious, only making your arm hurt more than it does. He's lost though, somewhere in his head, unable to hear the cries of pain as he's wrapping your arm. You're even more lost than before, your blood leaving rapidly.

"Aster, I-"

"Hush."

He then realizes you were going to tell him you were about to pass out, because you almost immediately fall over.

"Damnit!"

He holds you in his arms, your limb still not fully wrapped.

"If the two of you want to be helpful, get me some actual bandages instead of gawking at me!"

Sure, Astarion hates doing things that require hard work, but he knows how. How many times did he have to do something like this to himself, when no one was there to help wrap his wounds? Shadowheart quickly returns with all of the bandage wraps she has.

"We have to clean it or it'll get infected."

"Well, Shadowheart, I don't know how you think you're going to clean it if Tav bleeds to death."

The two healers decide it's best if he handles this himself. While he obsessively wraps your arm, the rest of the camp watches on, knowing he's too possessive to let them help. He doesn't trust them like he trusts you.

And I trusted you to stay put.

There's no way to give you more blood, not in a way that would work for you. For a moment, he simply thinks that he'll feed you some of his blood, and then he remembers. All he can do is hope you retained enough, that he didn't preemptively kill you by feeding on you tonight. Your pulse is still going, but it's slow, and you're paler than usual.

Astarion begins to think to himself, asking why he ever fell in love, why he ever let himself think twice about you. It's easy to play the game when you have nothing to lose. Second thoughts, always, he's always thinking for two people now. It's been his survival, for as long as he can remember, and now you're lodged in his brain.

"Damn you Tav, I can't do this. I can't lose you like this."

He begins to sob as he holds you, still unconscious. This beckons Gale to come over, often a voice of reason for the vampire.

"You've done all you can. Perhaps we should get Tav back inside? Away from the elements?"

Astarion is too distraught to argue, helping Gale carry you back into the tent.

"The second Shadowheart is awake, she'll be back to check on Tav."

"Yeah, if they don't die from blood loss in the middle of the night."

Gale simply sighs, knowing there's no point in fighting with him. He leaves your pale lover to wallow in his misery. Hours pass, you're still clinging on, and Astarion watches over you, panicking every time he can't see your chest rise and fall, constantly checking your pulse. You're cold, your heartbeat dangerously slow, and he keeps wracking his brain about what else he could possibly do. But there's nothing, only fate, only the gods. He sadly chuckles to himself at the thought of even trying to pray, knowing there's no higher power out there, at least one that cares about him.

"W... what are you... laughing at?"

You ask weakly, oblivious to the horrific stress he's been through. Astarion whips around quickly, wondering if perhaps he's imagining your voice. When he sees your eyes fluttering, lost somewhere between dreams and reality, he rushes to your side.

"Oh gods Tav... you- you really scared me there."

He tries to hold back tears, failing miserably. You try to speak again, but groan in pain as the feeling in your arm starts to come back.

"I know, I know it hurts. It's okay my darling, you'll be alright."

He begins fully sobbing, and you have no idea why, without being awake enough to comprehend the situation. Astarion always tries to be strong when you're weak, but watching you teeter on the line between life and death, it was simply too much to bear.

"You can't pull that shit, ever again my love, I'm so serious. I know I'm normally quite serious, but ever more so right now."

Then, a joyful, tiny laugh. Happiness. Happy that you're alive. The memories of the fight slowly start coming back, the beast that ripped up your arm, Astarion yelling.

"Aster...?"

"Yes my dear?"

You start to tear up a little, still a tad delirious.

"I'm sorry."

And then remembers as well, the things he said, the tone he spoke to you in.

"No, no my love I'm sorry. You weren't yourself, I was being entirely unreasonable. I just..."

He almost can't finish his sentence.

"I'm just happy you're okay. That's enough for me."

Your lover slowly and carefully lays down beside you, pulling you into him, being sure not to let your wounded arm drag on the ground. He holds you for a long time, until Shadowheart wakes at dawn, fully rested and ready to fix your wounds. Astarion vows silently that he'll never let it come that close, ever again.

[reareaotaku]

I Want 2 Watch You Bleed

Prompt: I wonder what your dead corpse would look like... We'll find out if you try and leave me~ Pairings: Yandere! Miles Fairchild x Nanny! Reader Word Count: 3.2k TW: Obsession, Gaslighting, Slight NSFW, Porno Magazine Mentioned [Happy Thanksgiving, my fellow Americans :) Enjoy this treat]

You could feel his eyes on you. He was always watching. You didn't know why he had this fixation on you, but he was overbearing. You always felt his presence, because it was like a fog that made it hard for you to breath. At first, you thought he was making sure you were doing your job correctly, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

---

You woke up late at night, feeling as if you were being watched in your dream and when you awoke, he was there. You were taken aback; Your eyes widened as he hung his arm off the footboard.

"You drool in your sleep."

"What?"

"And snore. It's annoying."

Your mouth was practically on the floor, "What are you doing?"

"You're so fucking stupid."

You frowned, your nose scrunching up, and you debated kicking him. Ultimately, you sigh and turn away from the young boy.

"I don't snore." You mumble under your breath, before going back to sleep. If he wanted to stay, you would let him, because you couldn't fight him. You were too tired and the energy just wasn't there.

You felt a dip in the bed, causing a spike of adrenaline to shoot up your spine. Why wouldn't he leave? Why were YOU scared of some stupid teenage boy. You were going to yell at him to get out, but you couldn't move. You felt like you were being held down and feeling his hand snake up your leg didn't help the paranoia that was resting in your head. What was wrong with him?

---

The morning after was awkward and strange. You knew he had been in your room, but the way he was acting was as if you were delusional.

"You can't go into my room at night."

Miles look at you, before tilting his head, "I didn't go into your room last night. It was probably a dream. I think it's weird that you dreamed about me though."

"I would never dream about you. Just- Don't do it."

"Well, I never did, so there's nothing for you to worry about."

You knew he was lying- Well, you did, but you were slowly doubting yourself.

---

You groaned, the music was blaring. It was loud and you were wondering how he hadn't gone deaf yet. Your head was banging and you had half a mind to yell at him. You frowned, before standing up and placing down the book you had been trying to read to Flora.

You could practically feel the floor shake as you stomped up to his room. You banged on the door, seeing as that was the only way he'd hear you. There was no answer, so you decided to just open the door.

He was going to town on his drums, before he looked up to you. He puts down his sticks and gives you his attention.

"What do you want?"

"I'm trying to help Flora read, but we can't even think with that loud music."

"Go outside."

"How about you play a different instrument? You have multiple different instruments. Or maybe you can just wait an hour to play-"

"Why are you being such a bitch?"

"Don't call me that. That is rude and very disrespectful."

He laughs, "Oohh, I'm so scared of the big, mean nanny."

"I'm not playing with you, Miles. I'm serious."

He tilts his head, before looking away from you and at his drums, "I'm sure you think you are. You do realize that unlike me, you're replaceable, right? You don't hold any real power. It's all just a figment of your imagination. Though, it seems your mind likes to run wild, doesn't it?"

"You will not make a joke out of me little boy," You stomp to him, grabbing his sticks causing him to yell out 'HEY!'. "You want to be a rude smartass? Okay, let's see how you like the consequences of your actions."

He follows behind you quickly as you run down the stairs. You rush to the living room where the fire place is. Thankfully, someone had already started a little fire, so your plan was half complete. You stood in front of it, before looking back at him.

His eyes were blown and he was frozen, "Don't. You. Fucking. Dare."

"Oooh, I'm so scared of the big, mean teenage boy." You then do something that you would regret later and throw the drumsticks into the fire.

"You fucking bitch! I'll kill you!" He rushes towards you and you're quick to grab his hands and hold them close together so that he doesn't choke you. After a few minutes, he calms down, but he gives you a dead look, "You better sleep with your door locked and one eye open." He then turns around and walks back to his room.

You hear of the crackle of the wood from the sticks and look back at the fire, causing realization of what you had done to hit you. You had gone to far. Your eyes widen as you frown, before trying to reach for the sticks, but you end up burning your hands. You could only watch as they burned to ash.

---

For the next few days you couldn't sleep. You knew you shouldn't be scared of Miles, seeing as he was younger than you, but there was just something off about him. The guilt had also been eating you alive. While you didn't like the way he treated you and others, you should have been the bigger person and handled the situation with more maturity.

You had tended to avoid him, until you finally decided to go buy him some new drumsticks. Was he an asshole? Yes. Was he inconsiderate of everyone? Yes. But he didn't seem to have many joys in life; And music was one of them and you destroy a part of it. You didn't know how you'd feel if someone destroy parts of your hobby, especially if you didn't have any family or friends besides a younger sibling. God, when you thought about it, it really bummed you out.

You waited until late at night, while everyone was asleep [supposedly], when you decided to leave. It would take you a while to get to town, because the house was far into the country side. You felt like you were doing something you weren't supposed to as you slowly walked across the wooden board floor. You heart dropped when you heard a loud creak! but thankfully there was no other movements.

You groaned when the loud engine blared in the near silence. You were thankful when you finally got out of the driveway and headed into town.

---

You hold the brand new sticks in your hands. You fingers glazed against the engravings on them. You didn't know if this would be good enough for him, but you were hoping he'd at least pretend to accept your apology.

Walking up to his room was agonizing. It felt like time slowed down and the hallways shrunk on you. When you finally got to his door, you thought about leaving, but sucked in a breath and knocked.

"Um, Miles?"

There was no answer, which caused you to sigh. You knew he was in there. You put your ear to the door, trying to listen for anything, but nothing. You knocked again.

"I'm coming in." You slowly opened the door and Miles was sitting on his bed- Well, it wasn't really a bed, more of a mattress- looking through a magazine. He flipped through the pages, not paying attention to you and it kind of looked like a porno magazine, but you weren't about to harp on how he got his hands on such a thing, because that was not a conversation you wanted to have. "Miles?"

He finally looks at you, throwing the magazine to the side of the bed and sat up, looking at you, "What?"

"I got you something," You hold the wrapped box out to him, but he doesn't take it. He just glares up at you as if his looks could kill you. You click your tongue, before rubbing the back of your neck. "I-uh, wanted to apologize... for you know... what I did, the other day... I shouldn't have done that. Nothing warrants a response like that and I'm sorry. I never should have thrown your drumsticks into the fire." You start messing with the box, taking them out when realizing he wasn't taking the gift, "I know that these aren't made out of the expensive wood your old ones were, but- umm... I got them engraved, you know, with uh, your name." You show him the light dug 'Property of Miles Fairchild'. "I hope we can start over and put that behind us."

He looks at the sticks, before grabbing them and looking them over in his hands. You watched him closely, hoping he'd take them. Thankfully, he did, but not before rolling his eyes. He puts them on his night stand, before looking back at you, "Leave me alone."

"Alright.." You finger gun him, before clicking your tongue, "I'll see you around." You left his room, before facepalming. " 'I'll see you around'? God, what a fucking stupid thing to say. Ugh, I'm such an idiot."

---

Miles holds the sticks between his fingers, examining them. They were nothing special, but they'd do the job. The engravements were a nice touch and it spurred something in Miles. It was a sweet gesture, probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him, especially without an ulterior motive. And to think, he had been planning to suffocate you in your sleep.

He was still kind of mad about losing his favorite pair of drum sticks, but these meant more to him, because they were bought with him in mind. You bought them while thinking about him and Miles thought that was kind of hot. Was he on your mind? How often did you think about him? What did you think about? Was it appropriate?

You had really just wormed your way into Miles' heart and now you would never be allowed to leave.

---

You parked the car, looking over the books you had gotten Flora. They weren't anything special, but you wanted to get Flora something new to read, because you were sure she was getting bored of the same old stuff in the house.

"Where the hell have you been?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when turning around and seeing Miles behind you. "God, you should wear a bell around your neck or something. You can't sneak up on people like that. Could give someone a heart attack."

He ignores you, repeating himself. "Where the fuck have you been? Flora was asking about you and we saw that the car was gone. She thought you abandoned her." He looks down at the books in your hand, before looking back at you.

Flora had been worried about you, but he had been pissed. How dare you leave? You can't be like everyone else and abandon him after you got through to him. He'd rather kill you with his bare hands than for you to leave him. He didn't care if he had to force you to stay and were unhappy; He loved you to much to let you leave him.

"I would never do that to Flora," You take a step back, your back against the car, as he walks closer to you.

"You can't just leave without telling anyone."

You laugh, shaking your head, "Okay dad. Didn't realize I had to ask you for permission to leave. Besides, I was just... Getting some new books for Flora, not like I have to explain myself to you. She's always stuck in this house and there's nothing new for her to read or do."

"Well, you can't leave without telling anyone, and now you know. I can get you fired, you know. Just don't do it again."

You roll your eyes shaking your head, before mumbling under your breath, "Yeah. I'm not doing that."

---

You were focused on dinner plans, trying to organize and figure out what you needed. Thankfully you knew it would be a short trip. You hated having to go all the way to town, especially on a busy day. Errands were never your favorite thing, but they were part of life. You tsked, clicking your pen, while tapping your fingers on the table.

You went out to the car, thankfully Mrs. Grose taking over for you, so you can leave. It was so strange how everyone was stuck in the house, like they couldn't leave. Did they want to leave? Sure didn't seem like it.

"Where are you going?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when hearing Miles from behind you. You turn to him, frowning, "God, you have to stop doing this. You can't sneak up on people like that."

"I told you you can't leave without telling anyone."

You smirk, not taking him serious, "And yet under the eyes of the law, you're still a child. So, I don't have to tell you anything."

He smirks evily, "You're right. Yet I'm kind of like your boss, so you do have to listen to me."

"Power trip much?" You roll your eyes, gesturing to the car, "Do you want to come with me, Miles?"

You groaned as he happily got into the passenger seat. You pull open the door, ignoring his stare as you got in. You started the car, the hum taking over the silence of the car.

---

It was just a guy, but it had obviously bugged Miles. You didn't know why Miles decided to be such a passive-aggressive asshole to the deli guy, but he did.

"God what is your issue?"

"He was obviously hitting on you." Miles remarks, tossing some stuff into the basket.

"So?"

He looks at you, his brows down turned, "So? You just let him do it. Just out in the open for everyone to see."

"What is up with you and this little," You gesture to him, "controlling nature? You can't control people, no matter how much you try or how much money you have. You have a little control issue."

"And you're a fucking whore." He was jealous and it was showing. Thankfully you were to obvious to his crush and thought he was just an asshole. He wanted to crack that dude's neck like a fucking baby back rib. He wanted to keep you locked away from the rest of the world so that only he could love you. You are a stupid woman, yet somehow you had Miles wrapped around your little finger and his heart on a leash.

"You are...." You pause, a devestated look on your face, "a monster."

"Let's just get going." He ignores you, walking ahead of you, but you weren't done with this conversation.

When getting back to the car, you glared at Miles, who was leaning on his hand and tapping his fingers against his thigh.

"You are such a brat, you know that?"

He clicks his tongue, ignoring you. "Kinda whorish to let him look at you like that," He finally turns to you, before eyeing you up and down, "But you probably like the attention, huh?"

"God, what is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem-"

"You're acting like a jealous, possessive child. Flora acts better than you."

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything. You groan, getting into the car and finally starting it.

---

You had to get out. You didn't know where to go, but you had to get away from the house. Weird shit kept happening. You felt eyes on you constantly and Miles had become obsessively clingy. You couldn't be alone for more than a few seconds without him appearing. You felt bad for Flora and you wanted to get her out of the house, but you were worried it was to late for her.

Flora was acting weird and saying things that didn't make sense. It was like she was possessed or something. She would talk about her old nanny and her dying. It scared you.

You had waited until it was dark out and you put Flora to sleep. You felt bad, but you couldn't stay, you had to leave, it was for your best interest.

You fiddled with the keys in your hands, before accidentally dropping them when trying to put them in the handle. You curse under your breath, before hearing creakk and your eyes scanned around you. The last thing you needed was to get caught now.

"What are you doing?"

You froze, recognizing the voice, before turning around and facing him. He was so close to you, making you wonder where the hell he came from. He looked like a monster with the way his eyes were blown out and his face was obviously furious. "What?"

He frowned, tilting his head, "Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Well, you sure seem to think so." He gestures towards the keys and the car, "Trying to leave in the middle of the night. Where are you going to go? You don't have any family."

"I'll figure something out."

"With what money? I mean, you can't possible have enough saved to last very long. Maybe a few weeks in a motel, if you're lucky."

"I'd rather live in an alley then spend another second here."

Something flashed in his eyes, something unrecognizable. You knew you had pissed him off. It didn't help that he obviously had serious abandonment/attachment issues and you were trying to leave. He felt as if you were trying to make a fool out of him. How dare you.

"Well, you don't really have a choice."

"What?"

"You don't have," He steps closer to you, before whispering, "a choice."

"Yes I do. Everyone has a choice."

"You know what- You're right. Your choices are that you stay here and we pretend this," He gestures to you and the car, "didn't happen. Or..." He chuckles, looking away from you, as if he was remembering something fondly, "Well, I wonder what your dead corpse would look like... We'll find out if you try and leave me."

"You don't scare me."

He smiles, his eyes filled with an almost love, if not for the situation you found yourself in, you'd be flattered.

"You sure? You seem pretty scared."

He was so close that he could see all the emotions swirling in your eyes. You couldn't lie to him, because he could see the truth. You were terrified.

"Come on. Give me the keys and let's go back inside."

You looked down at the keys, before looking at the car and then at him. You had lost and now you were going to be stuck in this stupid house forever.

[idkfitememate]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a polar bear 🐻‍❄️ anon? Like reader could be just chilling in shnezyha with the Fatui and come and go as they please, but they’re enjoying being a polar bear and just snooze anywhere and everywhere, eating a fish on the floor? No, let’s eat right next to Singora’s coffin R.I.P. if not that’s ok, thx for reading!!!!

Harbingers Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Polar Bear Reader x Harbingers

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 447

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, there is a penguin corpse tho

No one really knew what to do.

They all stared at the random ass polar bear that wondered into the room, in the middle of Signora’s funeral.

It was honestly baffling, and all Pierro could think about was how a few Fatui were going to get…. Let’s say fired, later.

“… What do we do..?” Childe questioned. He was - ironically- the closest to the bear and even he didn’t really feel like fighting it. As much as he and Signora “totally got along”, it would still feel mildly disrespectful to start going at it with a bear in the middle of her literal funeral.

“… I wish to take it back to my labs.” Dottore suddenly suggested, and immediately Pantalone was on his ass about it.

“Why? Whatever could you need a polar bear for?? It’s a waist if you ask me..” His disappointment was clear as day, despite the sterna smile etched into his face.

“Perhaps I could enhance its strength? Create a brand new type of creature to protect us.~” Dottore mused, his grin widening.

All conversation was halted however when a giggle rang out. Heads turned to see you gently playing with Columbina.

Your paws firmly planted on the ground as you nuzzled a blood-soaked-face into hers as you nipped at her ears.

She then took out a very dead penguin from under her coat and threw it at you, you catching it in your mouth and bending down to chow down.

You looked up after ripping a wing off the bird, offering it to her.

“Oh no, I’m alright for now my dear. Oh! But do save the large intestines. I may get hungry later, hehe!~”

Everyone stared at her as she conversed with you, a simple nod showing you understood before going back to ravaging and defiling the corpse beneath you.

“… What?” She asked now that all eyes were on her.

“… I suppose none of us were expecting you to have such an animal as a… pet..?” Capitano said, only to receive a giggle from the shorter girl.

“Oh they are no pet, simply a friend I made during a walk once.” She answered.

You lifted your head and nodded.

“Well did they have to attend?” Pierro asked, annoyance in his tone.

“Ah, I have no control ever where they go, though they have shown to have a respect for all of us.~” Giggles escaped her lips as she spoke, finding the faces of her fellow Harbingers amusing.

Pierro only sighed before continuing to speak. The funeral now continued without a hitch, even as you ate behind Columbina.

… Would the Tsaritsa ever consider making an animal a Harbinger…?

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Polar Bear!Creator after revealing they can control the elements: 🐻‍❄️

The Harbingers: One of us, one of us, one of us, one of us, ONE OF US, ONE OF US, ONE OF US, ONE OF US-

The Tsaritsa: 😐 Fine

And don’t worry I love your idea!! Never be afraid to share my dear ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚ (also, do you want to be an anon? It’s a bit unclear-)

[braineater444]

To Be a Princess

Chapter 2

Start/Next

fem!reader x kokonoi/bonten

TW: Disordered eating, sex trafficking, drugging, violence, cannibalism, gore, heavy drinking, terrible vibes, vomit, misogyny

Your silk pajamas are soaked in sticky, wet, congealed red. You’re in Hajime’s office again, but this time the man’s lifeless body is on the floor in front of you.

A strange feeling makes its way up your spine. You have everything to do with this. Now you have to repent.

“I’m sorry.” You say over the corpse. Your eyes fill with tears, but there’s no use crying. This is the bed that you made. You must lie in it.

Bloodied shaking hands lift his head to your mouth. He’s so much lighter than a dead man should be.

“You’re pitiful. Pathetic.” Your mother’s voice rings out from behind you, but when you turn, she’s nowhere to be found. “Do it. Clean your mess.”

Who are you to disrespect your mother? When have you ever had the nerve?

The flesh of the human cheek is easier to bite through than you’d imagined. Soft. Supple. Wet. Cold. This is the only way to make up for your crime. You must consume all of him.

You chew and chew and chew. It won’t go down. You try to swallow again and again. Your mother’s screams of horror ring out from behind you, and suddenly you’re able to swallow. You gag and heave, but you’re okay.

You go back in. Same cheek, but this time, your tongue slips between meat, teeth, and gums. Blood washes over your tongue before you rip through another piece of his flesh. Only this time, he screams.

His eyes are wide open, and his horrified screams mix with that of your mothers. You back away on the palms of your hands and the balls of your feet.

“I’m sorry!”

He still yells. Your mother tells you that you are not.

“I said I’m sorry!”

The agonized screams continue.

You repeat it over and over. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m sorry!” You yell back. You’re breathless. This feels like running a marathon.

✮✮✮

Your body jerks awake, and you’re greeted by the sight of Hajime’s concerned face looming over you. He rests a soft hand on your cheek and your body stiffens.

“There’s no need to cry.” His thumbs glide under your tear-filled eyes. His words are muttered. “It’s just a bad dream.”

You nod. He plants a kiss on your cheek and pats your head. “Go back to sleep.”

It’s hard to do as he says. 

You turn your body away from him, trying to settle in under the covers, but it’s too hot. You throw the blanket off of yourself and curl into the fetal position. You can feel the metal on your ankle getting colder the longer it’s exposed to the frigid bedroom air. Now it’s too cold. You sit up.

Hajime taps away at the keyboard of his laptop. He stops for a moment, then starts again. You yank at the chain of handcuffs on your ankle. It clangs against the bed frame it’s binding you to. The typing stops.

“Don’t start this again.”

“I have to pee.”

Your words are met with a sigh and Hajime closes the laptop. You watch silently as he picks up the key off of his dresser, opens the curtains, and walks to your side of the bed. His black silk pajamas glimmer in the sunlight as he kneels in front of you.

You present your chained leg to him. His hands glide across the smooth skin of your leg. His fingertips are frigid, but you have nothing to say about it. Why would you? He doesn’t care about your discomfort despite how much he feigns concern. He kidnapped you. His lips graze the skin of your shin before he plants a gentle kiss.

“I love you.” He smiles up at you.

A bitterness fills you as you say it back. The last time you refused to speak, he didn’t let you go. That was yesterday and since having to sit in soiled bed sheets for a whole day while he was out, you’ve learned better.

✮✮✮

Hajime doesn’t give you alone time anymore. Your morning piss is an affair for both of you. So is the bath.

It used to be fun when you bathed together, but in the three days since he’s taken away your autonomy, it’s morphed into a new hurdle to jump every morning and night. Today’s appeal is more of the same.

He sticks his hand under the faucet to check the water’s temperature and turns the knob to make it hotter. 

“What was that nightmare about?” He asks as you watch him through the bathroom mirror.

There’s a beat of silence before you remember what he’s talking about.

“You.”

He chuckles. “What do you mean?”

“This bathing together thing. I had a nightmare about it.”

The water stops. You turn to see a tub full of bubbles.

“Why lie? Just say you don’t want to tell me.”

“I just want to bathe it alone.”

“No.” He comes toward you and unbuttons your pajama top. “Maybe one day, but not today.”

“Hajime..” He slides your shirt off of your shoulders and you watch as it hits the ground. “Why?”

“Why what?” He works down your pants and underwear.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Why would I? I told you; I love you.”

Hand in hand, he guides you to the tub. Your feet cut through a thick layer of bubbles before hitting nice warm water.

This isn't love, and since you've been taken hostage, you're not sure it ever was, but this is the first time he's behaved in this manner. 

He cleans you thoroughly but gently. Expert fingers scrub at your scalp, then wash your face, and everywhere else. When his hands touch your private areas, you are quick to startle only for him to smile and say nothing. Really, he hasn’t done anything more invasive than washing you in the days you’ve been here. You’d like to say you know he wouldn’t do something worse, but you can never know for sure anymore.

“Face mask?” He asks at the end, wrapping you in a towel. You shake your head. “Are you hungry?” You shake your head. “I think you should eat something today.”

“I don’t want to.” You shiver in your towel.

“You should. We have somewhere to be tonight.”

“We?”

“It’s a club, so I thought you should come. You can meet my friends and have a good time.”

✮✮✮

You lay silent on the bed, chained up and waiting for Hajime to get back. He’s been gone since the afternoon and now the sun is going down. Hopefully, he’s dead. Hopefully, his line of work has caught up to him and someone killed him. And if he’s dead, someone can find you trapped here and free you, or maybe they won’t. Maybe you don’t deserve it. After all, you didn’t tell anyone what he did. You’re complicit. Why should you be saved?

“I’m sorry.” This is the first thing he says when he walks through the bedroom door. “It’s eight-thirty-six. I should’ve had you ready an hour ago.”

Hajime stops in his tracks as he looks at the bedside table. All the food he left remains untouched. The strawberries he’s cut, the sandwiches he’s made, the protein bar, the plain white rice… all untouched.

“Why are you not eating?”

It’s your hunger strike. You’ll thin out until you die if he doesn’t let you go. “Because I don’t want to be here.”

A look of frustration passes over his features for a brief, easily missed second. He smiles and leans down to you. “If you don’t eat, you’re not going. This could be your last chance ever to get out of here. Do you want to miss it?”

You return his gaze with your own hardened stare. He lets you hold the silence for a moment, with an unflinching, deceptively kind smile. “One bite of everything and I will dress you and we can go.”

He’s right. This could be your last chance to escape. This time, when you do, you’ll go to the police and turn yourself in. Will he come get you from them? Probably not.

He watches with a grin as you begrudgingly take one bite of everything. When you’re done, he dresses you.

✮✮✮

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you do feel beautiful. The black mink fur coat flows down to your ankles and creates warmth in what is an otherwise skimpy outfit. The black sequined skirt and leopard print bustier offer little comfort but an undeniable amount of glamour. Your diamond studs match your diamond choker and the messy updo Hajime tried his best to make perfect doesn’t suffocate them. 

Stepping outside like this isn’t like you. Especially because the heels he’s given you aren’t broken in. You’ve never worn these and they hurt. Surely, you’re ditching them when you make a break for it.

As you follow him into the club, the smell of sweat and mixed perfume replaces the crisp outside air on your face. As Hajime guides you through the crowd, a hand on the small of your back, dancing bodies part like the Red Sea. People smile and greet him with curious looks. Certainly, they wonder who you are. He explains nothing, just greets people back politely. How often does he come here?

Right past the private sections, there’s a door and behind that door is a well-decorated room. In that room, there are unfamiliar faces and Takeomi. Your abductor takes his time introducing them to you.

Mikey, you’ve seen his face on the news. This is Hajime’s boss. This is the guy that wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn to do paperwork. This frail, white-haired freak is who’s in charge. He hardly acknowledges you outside of a glance before bringing a beer bottle to his lips.

Haruchiyo has pink hair and pink eyelashes. More importantly, he’s got huge diamond-shaped scars on his lips and a tattoo on his arm that matches the one on Hajime’s scalp. He smiles, not in a polite way, but one that triggers your fight or flight.

Takeomi, you’ve met before. He nods to you. You wonder if he has a gun you can use right now. Do they all have guns? What are your chances of survival?

Rindou and Ran are brothers, with matching purple and lavender hair and with the same hanafuda tattoo sitting front and center on their necks. The same tattoo that Sanzu and Hajime have. Ultimately, you feel stupid as you realize that it’s their symbol for their little gang and it’s been sitting in plain sight your entire relationship. A wave of internal embarrassment rolls over you. Idiot.

Kanji is clean-cut with slicked-back, greying hair. He pays you no mind as he lights a cigarette and leans back into his corner seat. 

Finally, Kakucho has thick black hair that doesn’t quite cover the scar that wraps around his head and through his left eye. Can he see? Not that he deserves to. Not doing work like this.

After he’s done introducing you, someone, the pink-haired one, speaks up. “You’re not gay?” Lips parted and brows pinching together in confusion. There are snickers around the room, and the longer-haired brother hides his laugh by leaning on his brother’s shoulder. “Not in a rude way. I’m just asking because I thought you were bring- “

“Haruchiyo.” Takeomi pipes up sternly. It’s a bit ironic, you think.

Hajime doesn’t give a response. Instead, he says, “You know what I’m here to do, so please get out.” 

Everyone moves quickly to get out. You even hear someone huff out a “finally.” But before you can make sense of what’s going on, Hajime asserts that one of them has to watch you, and then he tells you to have fun.

A hand grabs yours and you’re being dragged to the bar before you can gain your bearings. The pink-haired one. Haruchiyo. He wants you to drink with him?

“What’s your name again?” He smiles.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right. I’m just gonna call you ‘Girl’, m’kay?”

You look around with half a mind to argue, but with the blaring music and flashing lights, who wants to? You shrug.

“Take shots with me.” His smile is so earnest.

“I can’t.” 

“Somewhere to be?” He gestures with his chin toward the exit behind you. A beat of silence falls between you as his smile threatens to pull apart his scars and then his face.

“Can I tell you something?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s leaning in close enough for you to hear his lowered voice over all the commotion. “You’re not getting out of here. There’s nowhere you can run where we won’t find you, and none of us are just going to let you go that easily.”

He pulls back to see the horror on your face. That smile brightens.

Half of you wants to ask why. This has nothing to do with them. The other half wants to see if he’s telling the truth. Still, you remain, frozen on your barstool, making a face with your expensive fur coat on.

��Drink with me. You’ll have more fun.”

You do as he says.

The shots come in one after another. Not once do you see him pay? You only watch hazily as he leans over the counter, beams at the bartender, and asks for another round for the both of you.

“You might think that we hate women…” He laughs to himself as he hands you another shot. “But I hired her.” He points at the bartender. “And in many ways, I’m like a woman, too.” But he never elaborates. Just rubs your shoulder as you throw your drink back.

✮✮✮

You don’t know how many shots you take, but it’s enough to have you barefoot on the dancefloor with him. For a while, it’s like you’re there alone. The world looks so beautiful inside the club and the sweat is starting to smell sweet. You’re just moving and embracing the faux freedom you have right now.

You back your glistening body into Haruchiyo’s front. His arms wrap around your waist and you roll your head onto his shoulder. You sway. 

“This is so much better than being stuck in that room,” you hum.

“He locks you in the bedroom?” He asks. You can feel his voice come from his chest as he chuckles. You nod with a dumb smile.

“Haruchiyo…” You are dizzy as the lights change. He hums. “I feel sick.”

He laughs. Fully laughs. And you do too.

“I’m gonna throw up.”

Before you know it, he’s gently guiding you through the crowd and you’re barely there for it. It all feels like floating until your bare feet are met with cold concrete and harsh rocks. 

You must be outside of the back of the building. You meet the brothers there, smoking. The taller one pipes up first. 

“Haru, you got anything?”

“Haru.” You repeat under your breath and giggle at yourself. He’s got a pretty name.

“Not on me. Wanna come to my car?”

You think they’re having a secret staring contest when Haru offers to go to his car. The tall man is almost smiling, and Haru is.

“Ran…” he says sweetly.

Ran.

The taller one, Ran, takes one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it and smothering it with the toe of his boot. “Rindou, please watch her. He drugged her.” He smiles without breaking eyes with Haru. You look between them, only to see they’ve both got shit-eating grins plastered across their face.

“You drugged me?” You look at Haruchiyo. He pays you no mind. When?

He lets you go and as you fall, Rin catches you. He lets you rest your weight against his body.

“Where are her shoes?” Rindou pipes up.

“I’ll find them later.”

Then you’re stuck with Rindou. Whoever he is.

It’s a little humiliating leaning against a man you don’t know because you can hardly stand on your own two feet. Rindou doesn’t seem to mind, though. He stands back to the wall as he smokes his cigarette.

When you try to push yourself off of him, his free hand comes to your back to push you back down. He breaks the silence with a stern voice telling you to stay. 

You’re overheating, and you’ve got to go. 

The next time, he doesn’t push you back down. He lets you stand on shaky legs and watches as you shrug your coat off and onto the ground.

“Where are you going?” He asks. His cigarette is gone. 

“Fu-ucking leaving.” You hiccup. Your stomach growls.

“To where?” There’s amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.”

Even through blurred vision, you can see him frown. He’s messing with you.

You hobble your way back through the door you came out of. The lights on the inside are so… bright. Brighter than before. Sickening. They’re doing this on purpose. 

You’re pushed around as you try to make your way through the crowd. Your stomach is rolling around inside you. 

“Move.” You say to random people. They don’t hear you. They don’t care.

It’s so fucking hot inside this place. You just want out.

When you make it outside, you pause for a moment to feel the cool air. Spit fills your mouth and dribbles down your chin. Your arm comes up to wipe it away.

You don’t know which way to walk. A phone would be nice, but it’s okay. You can make it work. You can find someone with a phone later. The streets are devoid of people right now, save for a few cars driving by.

You choose a direction and walk. Stumble.

“You’re not gonna make it far on whatever he gave you.” His voice is loud and clear. It’s almost like he caused you to fall.

Your knees scrape the concrete, enough to hurt without drawing blood. You stay there, hunched over on the ground as you hear him approaching.

Rindou crouches in front of you. He smells wonderful even after a cigarette. Warm vanilla and a field of flowers. He carries your abandoned coat with him.

“You’re so cute. Like the girls I had crushes on when I was a boy. But they weren’t real.” He lifts your chin in his hand while saying it. “You are. You’re beautiful and determined and so real. It’s really hot. Especially ‘cause what you’re doing is useless.”

“Leave me alone.” Your lips quiver.

“I can’t.” That frown from earlier…it’s just his face. “I’m not going to be the one getting blamed for leaving you passed out on the sidewalk and vulnerable to all types of things.” He strokes your cheek and kisses your sweat-covered forehead.

“Are you gonna-” Tears skitter down your cheeks. “Please don’t tell him. I don’t- I can’t-” His eyes light up and there’s almost a smile showing. “I can’t be locked in that room anymore. Please. Please. Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t tell, I promise.”

✮✮✮

Rindou waits outside the door as you vomit in the bathroom. No one is in here with you and it’s the cleanest club bathroom you’ve ever seen. Or maybe you’re just that out of it.

The sound of what is mostly bile and alcohol hitting the toilet water is sickening. It even splashes on the seat, narrowly avoiding your face. The smell is vile.

When you’re done, your stomach growls as you make your way to the sink. You’re so hungry it hurts, but if you eat, he’ll have won. 

Your stud earrings have become entangled in loose strands of your hair. You take them out and admire how they glimmer under the dim bathroom light in your hand.

Are diamonds edible? You wonder. If you eat them, you’re getting back at him in a way, right? Dissolving his money in stomach acid.

You break the pointed back off of one. It’ll be harder to swallow with it on. Then you do the same with the other. They’re no longer accessories, just useless five-millimeter studs.

Hajime would say you look a mess without them. He says that even women as beautiful as you need accessories. Surely, all this jewelry he puts on you is just his form of branding.

You pop the diamonds into your mouth. Your first thought is to chew; mash them up and make them digestible. It hurts your teeth to try to bite through. It startles you how painful the attempt to crack them was. It startles you enough that you accidentally swallow them whole. 

You make a face to yourself in the mirror. Eyes blown, mascara smeared, lipstick smudged. Your heart is racing. It kind of felt… good? What the fuck?

✮✮✮

You rinse your mouth with vodka. A bottle Rindou took from behind the bar. Not that you want to drink anything else they give you. 

You’re back behind the club and Rindou doesn’t seem set on getting you even more drunk or high. You’re feeling invincible after swallowing those earrings.

What else could you do to get back at Hajime?

“Do you want to have sex right now?” You pass the bottle back to Rindou.

“No.” He says without thought or hesitation. “Not really. I’m not like that.”

“Like what?”

“A home wrecker.”

“Shut up.” Hajime is not your boyfriend. You guys are not together. 

“Sorry.” He takes a big swig. “I’m also not into whatever revenge plot you’re trying to hatch.” He smiles politely. He really looks like his brother. Sad eyed and well dressed.

“It’s not revenge. You said I’m cute.” You move closer to him and your hand creeps to his forearm. 

He turns his head up and sighs. “He’s made a pleasant life for you. Why can’t you just accept it?”

“Fuck off.” 

When he looks back at you, his lips part, he thinks and closes them. Then they come open again.

“I’ll tell you something, okay?” Rindou huffs. “A while ago, there was this girl… maybe a little younger than you. A hooker who worked out of one of our brothels. She looked okay.”

He pauses in thought. Your hand slides off of his forearm.

“She ran away once, with a lot of money. When Mochi brought her back, she was so full of vengeance.” He chuckles. “Koko was pissed. Kicked that girl’s teeth in. Locked her in a closet, and only fed her rice and chicken once a day. It was bad. He told Sanzu to pull her nails out. Tortured her for like two months.”

His brows furrow, and he gets quiet for a second. “Yeah, he would tell us to do terrible things to her. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. I haven’t been back since.” He scratches his head. “But, what I’m saying is, Koko’s a cruel guy and you’re lucky he likes you.”

It’s shameful to think you didn’t know. To think some women have suffered at the hands of the man who makes you comfortable. For the longest time, you were oblivious. You’re an idiot.

“You’re lying.” You say, because he must be. This couldn’t have happened under your nose.

“Look at the situation you’re in. Is it impossible?” His brows rise in question.

You’re doomed, aren’t you? “I’m just going to kill myself. You should kill yourself, too.” You take the bottle from him. It feels like fire going down your throat.

His gaze has changed when you finally look at him again. There's a sense of mischief you only catch on to when he kisses you. This time, on your mouth.

You’re not sure you want this, but you lean into it for the sake of rebellion. It’s so strange kissing someone who isn’t Hajime. Matter of fact, it's strange locking lips with someone you've just met. Rindou's lips are so soft and warm. His tongue glides languidly against yours. His hands travel from your cheek to your chin to tilt your head up, so he can savor you deeper. You both taste of alcohol.

When he pulls away, he waivers a little at the sound of a soft accidental moan leaving your lips. He grins. Suddenly, you want him back.

“Now you’ve rebelled, and you’re still stuck here. I don’t think you have the balls to kill yourself, though.” He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. “But if you want to, you can.”

[xaharadesert]

Vampire MC Caught by Vampire Hunter - Headcanon

Julian Devorak x MC

A/N: Time for my yearly post, as requested by a very lovely anon! Also, this almost turned into a fic, so apologies for the weird format my dears! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes :) requests are (technically) open!

TW: major character death (it’s you, you die in this one, sorry), disrespecting a corpse/graphic description of a corpse (it’s also your corpse, sorry), vague allusion to vomit (this one is not you!)

❤️Julian❤️

As a doctor, Julian had been fascinated by your vampirism and altered traits

As a human man, he had been a little bit scared (although, given that the two of you had been together for a while before you told him, he felt reassured that you hadn’t eaten him yet)

But as a significant other? He was terrified. And not for himself

Julian liked to think of himself as one of the more open minded citizens of Vesuvia, and even he had some trouble coming to terms with your vampirism and its implications

Your relationship had been a tad rocky following the announcement, as Julian was preoccupied with debating the ethics of loving a vampire

But never let it be said that Julian believes all life is precious; he’s a well-traveled man, and he’s met some of the worst humanity has to offer

So if you’re careful with your targets, he’s completely fine looking the other way

In fact, having a bit of knowledge on the subject, he helps you find more efficient methods of storing blood in order to give you more time to research potential meal sources

All that being said, he adapted to the situation and loved you just as well as he would have if you hadn’t had a proclivity for drinking blood

No, it wasn’t the dietary restrictions that worried him: it was the hunters

Vampire hunters weren’t exactly common, since, well, vampires weren’t either

But they were known for their dedication and cunning

Julian, ever the proactive protector, always kept an ear out at the Rowdy Raven for any rumours of a vampire hunter entering Vesuvia, ready to whisk you away at a moment’s notice

He kept bags packed for that exact occasion, and felt confident that he was as prepared as could be

But what he couldn’t prepare for was a hunter who knew about his connection to you, and who therefore knew to keep his presence a secret from everyone

That was maybe the worst part: that Julian didn’t know who had done it

Whoever they were, they were quick and brutal

Julian couldn’t have predicted that anything would go wrong that night; you had gone out with a target in mind, and Julian, having witnessed your supernatural strength in person, wasn’t worried in the slightest that you would return home unharmed when you were done

It wasn’t even unusual to wake up with you still missing, since you were occasionally caught picking your way through the shadows of town when the sun crept up too early for a mad dash home

What was unusual was the banging at the door at the crack of dawn and several of his friends’ panicked voices overlapping as they all tried to explain

They dragged him into town, down to an open square with an old but grandiose statue of a certain disgraced ruler standing in the middle, and they pointed up at it

Not at the statue, though, but of a corpse with a stake driven through its heart hanging by a rope from the statue’s extended hand

No one could fault Julian for the violent illness that overtook him in that moment— he was one of many who couldn’t stomach the sight

He shoved his friends away and returned home immediately to have his breakdown in private

This was more than some freak accident resulting in a loved one’s death; this was a murder committed with intent, and he had no way of finding closure

He couldn’t turn to his friends for help, since none of them had known your secret: this act of violence toward you provided no proof of your true nature, and Julian didn’t want to tarnish the reputation of the person he loved

Perhaps the only other person who could have helped was Asra, and after the incident he was nowhere to be found either

This was a burden Julian would have to bear alone

For although his friends made every effort to comfort and aid him, none of them truly understood the nature of his love or his loss

[yxnswife]

Little taleena blurb 🫶

this idea would not leave me alone so here's this

tw/cw for mentions of blood and violence

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Mileena's chest heaved, fiery adrenaline coursing through every vein. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, and the warmth of it stained her hands. Her jaw ached, teeth still looking to bite and tear and kill. Her harsh breathing filled the room, eyes trained on the mangled corpse that lay at her feet. It was barely recognizable as a person, torn to shreds and its last vestiges of life ebbing away. Mileena was sure that the rest of the group fared the same.

Foolishly, there had been an attempt on her life.

Assassination wasn't uncommon, both of her parents had their fair share of attempted coups and hired assassins. It came with the job description. Usually, though, the assassins weren't so arrogant.

There were many that opposed Mileena's reign before she even ascended, half of Outworld instead rallying behind the likes of her sister. She had met every one of them head-on, proving time and time again that she deserved the throne. Tarkat be damned, she would not allow herself to falter in her leadership of her people.

For someone to dare try and assassinate her, in the light of day no less, was a disrespect of the highest degree.

Behind Mileena, the door to the throne room opened. Tanya came rushing in, steps sure and looking relatively unscathed. The only sign that she had even been in battle was the tight grip that she had on her weapon.

"It's done, Mileena. The traitors have been taken care of," Tanya said, stopping just behind her Empress.

Mileena turned, angling herself towards her love slowly. Like a lioness, Mileena was a perfect picture of a graceful huntress, covered in blood and wild eyes pinning Tanya with her stare.

"Thank you, Tanya," Mileena's gravelly voice rumbled. She was still attempting to tamp down the blinding rage in her chest, reeling herself back in since the fight was over.

Tanya smiled fondly, tilting her head and tucking away her weapon. "Oh, Beloved," she murmured, moving closer. Once within range, Tanya cupped Mileena's cheeks, carefully avoiding the razor edge of her teeth. Her fingers smeared some of the blood, but neither Mileena nor Tanya seemed to care that much. "Look at you. Radiant as always, my love. Come, let us clean you up."

Mileena closed her eyes, angling her head closer to the warmth of Tanya's palm. "Not as radiant as you," she hissed. Tanya was a vision of beauty, and Mileena regrets not being there to witness her in her element. Tanya was deadly, with a righteous fury that could bring even the most vicious of beasts to heel.

Similarly, Tanya thought the same of Mileena. To see Mileena tear apart her enemies was something Tanya had thanked the gods endlessly for. To be by Mileena's side, with the blood of her enemies shared between them, was a blessing. There was no one she would rather be beside, no one who could match her ferocity in the heat of battle.

As the blood cooled between them, Tanya pulled Mileena's forehead to hers, sighing quietly. A relieved smile painted her lips. While she never doubted Mileena's abilities, there was still a chance that something could have happened, an unexpected variable that could've taken Mileena away for good.

However, with the carnage around them fading into the background, Tanya supposes that not even death could keep them apart.

[delusion-of-negation]

total aside and a tw for necrophilia, but this ask got me thinking about that david mitchell's soapbox episode about consensual necrophilia again. like, his argument is "yeah sure fill me up with straw and let some person have some fun when I'm dead idgaf".

and I'm then reminded of the "rebuttal" I heard to his argument (paraphrasing for the purposes of making it into a meme but...)

and that's stupid. you all see why that's stupid, right? it's not my family's body, it's mine, and they don't get to decide that sort of thing - and they really shouldn't get to, like, because they are all against me being trans and want me buried under my old name, they're not interested in honouring how I want to die, they even disrespected other dead family members' wishes in the past. it's actually weird to set a standard that uninvolved parties have so much say in sex, and to set a standard that families can simply decide you aren't allowed to have your body treated how you are comfortable with it being treated. just because we think that it's gross to defend somebody like david deciding you can fuck his.

it's not my kink and I don't go here, but let david's corpse fuck if david wants david's corpse to fuck, it's david's corpse not yours.

[plasticfangtastic]

Can we Be Lonely Together? Ch. 2

A Homelander x Stalker!Reader fanfic

This is a gender neutral fanfic but deep down its just a Homelander X Joe Goldberg fic do with that as you wish. This is a slow burn fic btw

PLZ FORGIVE ME I DON'T KNOW HOW TO PUT A READ MORE OPTION ON MOBILE SO SORRY IF THIS LOOKS LENGHTY.

Summary: We were two mices pretending to be cats, weren't we?

We Didn't expect to find ourselves int his situation, But John... Homelander... You were perfect... none of this was a lie, these feelings are genuine! So I don't know why you're using such words... stalker... pyschotic bitch? Insane... Liar!? to describe me, after all I've done for you-- Us!? all I done to help you!?

You were wrong.

I just yearned to get closer so what if I did my homework? After all you played along. I knew you knew... you were so loud

R18: TW murder mention, CSEM mention.

Chapter two

Financial Advice for Crooks.

I had my vices.

Life hadn’t been easy, I had limited options and limited paths for the longest time so when I finally had a taste of anything but misery I sank my teeth in its throat, I settled my nest in a corpse of my past– I found my calling. Got my groove on, and began to move up in my way to hell. I made my money, and I made connections, and eventually I got used to this lifestyle.

I thought you would’ve been impressed by how good I was at my job… 

So I came to New York for business. It wasn’t cheap, but unlike the usual dreamers… they didn’t come to this city with a terabyte of crap to blackmail their landlord to lower their rent seventy-five-percent below street average. So I treated myself to the finer things, expensive things… short lived things… so all the meals and wine money could offer, material things didn’t last, but I wanted to feel good… the sort of good where sex doesn’t compare, beside I could never be loved or love… until I met you.

So I devoured with gusto all the Michelin stars, critics recommendations in the Times, highest rated Yelp! review joint, hidden gems, and anything that failed to include the price on the menu... I lived for once. 

For I was starved… until now.

So there I was in some bloody fucking warehouse tied up, my left arm dislocated and a five inch nail adhering my palm to this facebook marketplace find of a chair.

Let’s not even discuss the state of my face.

“You think you can rob me!? I gave you my trust! I welcome you into my family! I let you babysit my fucking kids! And this is how you repay me!? Stealing from me!?” His voice was louder than any thought around me.

I could hardly see or hear anything, my eyes swollen and my ears throbbing, hot, stiff, my shoulders burnt, my hand itching, and screaming.

“I’ll… I’ll pay…”

“Doesn’t change anything, kiddo. If I let you live then word gets out in the streets that you can disrespect me, and sail smoothly!”

“I’ll pay you double the interest! Come on Roman! I fucked up!” I can barely think, my mouth is dry and wet– I can get you something good!” My throat rips itself apart trying to speak to this suited hooligan.

“Like I care… get this bitch out my face.” he said to some goon behind me.

“Vought! I can get you Vought!”

It's always on your mind. You become a petulant child when it comes to Vought– your biggest competitor.

“Excuse you?”

“Edgar is on his way out. The market is going to be in a panic, no?” I spit drool and my teeth– word is that Homelander will take the helm… you think that homeschooled twat can manage to run one of the biggest companies in the world? I’ll get you the trading secrets… I’ll get.. you anything…”

“How do you know Edgar is out? What are you saying?”

“My FBSA contact… they didn’t pay up, so I gave them a visit… and that Neuman chick was so fucking loud. Something about a big press release in a couple days, they’re gonna arrest Edgar. The Homelander wants him out.”

“Why do you have a contact in the FBSA?”

“I wanted to pay you… needed some Supe to blackmail…”

“You’re lying.”

“Keep me alive until you see the bitch on the news. Help me get a job at Vought. I’ll get you something worth more than One-Hundred-K.” I plead, my voice a tire running out of air– please… Roman… please I beg you… believe me one more time! even I wouldn’t lie about this.”

It might’ve been the fantasy that gave him the capacity to hand mercies for he kept me alive in that warehouse for two days, for your new girlfriend was on the TV hitting Edgar like an avalanche.

Cut to, three weeks later, there I’m in business attire sitting across an exhausted HR rep who can’t believe his boss is making him do this, behind the almost perfect smile, and the mundane questions he had already hired me, my resume was perfect and seeing the urgency pulling at his leash even if my resume hadn’t been finely crafted, your company would’ve given me the job. The department was stressed while being examined closely by the shareholders, the whole company was frantic.

I got the call by the end of the week.

By Monday there I was walking into that massive hundred plus storey behemoth of a tower, worse than any fugly billionaire row structure. I saw why people were impressed by this butt-plug of a building, just sucking on the land around it, hogging all the air space with its glass ‘Seven’ and its name illuminating the airspace, big enough to have its own gravitational pull and New Yorkers were the moons running laps around it.

Before I knew it I was dragged around by security to receive my special keycard with my fake name and all, then met the highest qualified person in this department, some sweet anxious thing called Anika, you know her– if not the smell of adrenaline she gives off when you’re around.

It seems people here were allergic to sunlight– any light actually! This couldn’t be good for anyone's eyes.

She handed me a desk, and well everything after that must be quite boring for you, so let me TDLR…

There was a reason why I chose this department. I could’ve aimed to be an assistant, worked in any other department, even been the fucking janitor and I would had been able to fulfil my task, but I knew that Vought had all the resources and cutting edge technology to get the fuck away from Roman Ban and Banvision Global. In here I’d forge a new name, destroy all trace of my existence, what little there was of my digital fingerprint, and above all… I could make money.

It wasn’t difficult. 

So I started with Kevin… sorry I meant… The Deep (ugh) his mind was easy to navigate, behind the mountain of cetacean erotica, self-loathing, bisexual worries, genuine environmental worries, his abs and octopussy fantasies– it didn’t take me long to find out his social security number, his bank account passwords and numbers, social media passwords, both private and public– did you know he had an account in the Jeremy Renner app? Anyhoo… I had all I needed written in sparkly ink, and swirly cursive. 

I simply had to sell some tabloid his web search history, or transfer small amounts at a time to an offshore account, small enough to go unnoticed disguised as his usual transactions, he had several trials and memberships he had yet to cancel-- I pitied Deep to a degree we both had been bad with money. I just didn’t spend most of my money donating to cults and environmental causes. 

As the days went by I collected passwords and keys from all suits worth a damn, and did my job to cancel those memberships diverting them to me, and taking small amounts, collecting and crafting packages to blackmail them, sending personalized emails demanding ransom, etcetera.

But I had a guy ready to kill me to prove a point, so I kept working.

The more I saw my plan coming together, the more brazen I became. I thought I’d be there for a month at most… so there I was staying till late. My mind still assaulted by the discovery of the depth of the Deep’s depravity, and his annoying wife, this wasn’t my first introductory lesson into bestiality… that had been in the fifth grade at a Wendy’s parking lot when my powers were at their worst– and he wasn’t the only person on this floor that indulged in filth, not even the worse kind, the worse was that lady in IT storing a hard-drive with the sort of shit, that will have the FBI shutting down Vought for a couple days to investigate why there’s kids stored in the company servers– which… I did… tell Roman about.

“Excuse me?”

I had forgotten till now.

“Yeah… Joanne in IT… you should… keep Ryan away from that floor, just saying ‘cuz she ain’t ugly and he’s vulnerable.”

I’ve never seen you so pale, almost as pale as the corpse next to the couch.

“Anyways I was saying…”

I love how family oriented you are. The way your heart was racing just now, the way your jaw twitched for a second, it was sweet how much you cared.

“There’s also that guy in security who’s been stealing shit to roofie girls.”

Your pretty blonde locks felt to the side of your forehead, as you cocked your head confusedly.

I sat in that screen lit room, waiting for the building to get as quiet as it possibly could. There were always people in this place, sleepyheads and night shifts. This place had become less phallic and more a living organism, every hallway and room serving a function to keep it erect non-stop.

Curiosity won over me and I love obscene indulgences, I have an appetite for things that do me no good. So I knew a place I had to see So there I’m in the elevator knowing the floor is mostly empty, and knowing I had the floor all for myself, knowing where every soul was placed and the password to erased the security footage (plus I had already blackmail the right security guard) I headed upstairs to a special place.

The ninety-nine floor.

Walking across the golden marble, crossing the wooden frames and the gallery of greatest hits with no artistic value intrinsic to them– I saw the statues guarding the Seven’s boardroom, and found an unlocked sliding door. The silvery "Seven" table, with all its sharp edges, the famous chairs every supe in the world wanted to sit down on– not me. 

I wasn’t pretty enough for the pageant circuit, my parents were… disappointed… to say the least… found me creepy, repulsive even! saying I kept them hostage in their own home, unable to keep anything hidden. I tried to control my powers until they could forgive me, anyone…could forgive me, so I never imagined myself in this room, much less in spandex.

So I sat on your chair, at the helm turning to see the best view of the big city.

Your statues and your painting staring down on me, you were unbearable, just a pretty blond in tights, with a padded suit even for your dick as if you needed protection from upcoming kicks to the balls. Everybody feared you, and if they didn’t they wanted to be you, you seemed so far up your ass– and all your staff simply indulged you, afraid that even an atomic bomb couldn’t stop your tantrums. Too afraid to tell you… even if your name was on the door, you weren’t running shit. All the actual work was done by your former assistant it seemed, just delivered dumbed down to your level by the time it reached this table for you to play pretend, and feel like a big boy. 

I was surprised you could even read, but then again you could shoot lasers out of your eyes and if rumor was true your piss was acid– so Jesus knows I wasn’t going to question it.

Your chair was comfy, and I bet all those numbnuts wished they could sit on it.

The view was worth it, I could see why people liked this stupid city– did my job and ate quickly but I wanted more… so thankfully I had a good book on my kindle and a juicy chapter to unfold.

Looking at the clock I cleaned myself and began heading out, my mind finally shutting down, it was the only way I could sleep, Soon I would’ve been awake trying to hold my head together… I know you were at my house so I know you saw the valium next to my bed, and the mix-and-match bags of sleeping pills.

I should’ve looked at the clock better, I should’ve hung in there, freely disrupting my routine willingly. It was nice to hear nothing, just the sound of my wispy breath and my loafers squeaking, in this silence I failed to notice you.

I failed to notice you had entered this place at all. Did you find it hard to sleep? Did you step outside your enclosure looking for enrichment? I wasn’t thinking that when I stepped into the elevator with my eyes glued to my phone, you weren’t on my radar. 

My heart nearly burst out of my chest at the sight of red gloves holding the door.

My bladder nearly emptying itself.

When your frame came into my general vicinity. I swallowed hard. Still had some cheese caught behind my teeth.

Nervously I looked up, catching the back of the American flag and your shoulder pads. Golden eagles caging me, frosted tips right before my eyes, and your hand pressing on the elevator going up.

My hand still hovering near the control panel aching to press down, your collar creeked as you turned to look at my insignificant presence.

“What floor?”

How polite, your voice so quiet, guess you hadn’t noticed me either.

“Ground… thank you.”

Your perfume was virtually non-existent, you were warmth, sunflowers and cotton. I had cats to kill it seems for I looked up catching your disturbed reflection in the chrome. Your eyes somewhere else, something about that picture made me too curious.

I turned it back on: feeling the burst, holding a wince behind my teeth. I found myself leaning against the wall, your ear picking up as I held my head lightly.

You found me annoying, dramatic, loud. I held back my breath as I fixed myself in the corner, just out of fear.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” 

I’m dead. I thought

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing you are!”

I…I…I am sorr– I began to mumble.

You weren’t saying anything, but it was you speaking. Screaming at yourself. 

That voice so rough and you became so meek, I took a quarter step forward-- in this small box I could do more than just listen, in the chrome your face moved, it spoke and walked in his few feets of space looking down on you, taunting you, remind you of today’s failures listing them as if he was your mother in the middle of math homework.

You could cry.

You wanted to cry.

You were a wave, a wave pulling me further into the sea and I had no idea how to swim any longer. How? How could you see yourself like this? Why do you let him act like this? 

When had you turned to see me? Had my leaning been too noticeable, could you smell the provolone in my tongue? My lips shakily pursed upwards.

It seemed the voice faded away.

“Did you get lost?” You looked directly at my badge.

“Heard they had mints in this floor’s bathroom.” where’s my fucking oscar!? 

Homelander mouth half open, too tired to react just shaking awkwardly but your half closed eyes watched me curiously.

And finally I saw your face.

Your eyes were so tired, everything about you looked exhausted, your posture kept straight by your suit pulling you up, but when your lip indulged in the joke. 

Magic.

My heart sang a song made in your honor, my cheeks so flushed it made me itchy. 

The elevator stopped but you didn’t leave when the doors opened, your finger pressed lightly on the right command.

“Who are you?”

“A corporate spy sent to steal trading secrets for your competitors”

You bombarded me with a singular warning “Don’t lie.” I lived in a world where nobody could lie to me, it got boring, it got insulting, hateful, cruel, so I wasn’t going to lie to you, not when I knew you wanted to decompress… with my spine.

You laughed.

It was so cute– you moved in slowmo.

You took a step back, listening to my unfazed heartbeat, I told you the truth but you heard a joke, maybe you needed a laugh for that voice was back to pestering you.

“I’m new. I was curious about the Seven’s gallery… sorry.”

“Don’t do it again.” You said with a jovial tone so threatening it reverted to being sweet– got it?”

Not a single picture, drawing, GIF, fancam, etcetera. Did ya justice, I could see it now… why everybody fawned over you, but I saw something else.

Behind those blue eyes.

Was the loneliest man in the world.

Your mind I wanted to peek more. I wanted to speak and decipher that voice in your head, I wanted to see why you hated those people under you, I wanted to understand what made you so upset that no matter how much you tried threatening me, it wouldn’t… it wasn’t making you feel any better.

“I’m sincerely sorry.” I said barely whispering but you heard it crystal clear– hope you have a goodnight Mister Gillman.”

The doors began to close as your eyes widened and your lips shaped an ‘O’.

I could’ve sworn your cheeks turned pale and pink.

Mine were candy apples, for once… I regretted saying Good night.

[mothgodofchaos]

Blood Moon

I was just gonna make him a cursed god, but I found the irony of the God of Night being a creature of the night a little too good to pass up.

Vampire!Night x GN!Reader, TW: so much blood, corpses, possessiveness, biting/turning Words: 779

Screeches fill the night as the moon turns red, all of the fountains in the square turning to blood. The ground shakes as a black mass flies out of the cave at the top of the mountain. It descends upon your city as people flee for their lives, locking themselves in their houses as vampires pound on their doors and windows, searching for their next meal. 

Your heart beats out of your chest as you lean against your door, quadruple locked for your own safety. You just have to wait out the night, in the morning it will all be normal until the next blood moon. The Night of Blood doesn’t happen often, but the oracles had predicted it a few weeks ago, and many have been doomsday prepping for it. Outside you can hear the screams of those having their blood drained from their bodies, voices weakening as they become nothing more than a dry husk. In the morning the streets will be filled with the victims’ bodies, and the funeral services will begin in mass. 

Your lights are off, with your room only being illuminated by the light of the moon. Maybe it’s the panic building inside of you, but it almost feels like the moon is growing bigger. The oracles hadn’t predicted a super moon, surely you’re just seeing things. Right?

Your vision goes red as a flash of light fills your room, rubbing your eyes and blinking to try and recover from the supernatural flashbang unleashed upon you. Looking up, a figure towers above you. A red spiral surrounds a glowing red eye, the spiral dripping as if made of blood. Fangs glimmer in the moonlight as he moves in closer to you. He’s cornered you against your door, forcing you to press your back firmly against it to gain some illusion of growing space between the two of you. 

“Hello there.”

“WHAT THE FUCK-”

You throw a bulb of garlic at his face, reaching into the bulk bag next to you to continue the pelting of aromatics. He just stands there, a bit stunned as he slowly reaches up to touch his face.

“Was that… garlic?”

“Well, yeah. I thought it repelled you guys.”

“Perhaps normal vampires, but my dear, I am a god.”

Well. There goes that plan. Before you can go to plan B, he rushes you and grabs your throat, slowly squeezing your neck and knocking your other methods of defense away. 

“I normally don’t come down to feed, but the way you were basking in my light, you were beautiful and safe for the taking.”

Your hands wrap around his, trying to pry it away from your airways as he picks you up, holding you aloft in the air as you try to free yourself.Your legs kick, attempting to hit his knees and change his focus to elsewhere. But there’s no use to your efforts, his limbs far too long for yours to even graze. 

“Little human, if you struggle, it will just prolong the process…”

“Fuck you.”

You’re dropped to the floor, he sneers at you and your disrespect towards him.You gasp and rub your neck, trying to settle your breathing again. Your hand finds a wooden stake, pointing it towards him.

“Go. Away.”

“Foolish heretic, your stakes and weapons do not hold off the powers of a god. You will join me in my pantheon, whether you like it or not.”

You stand, lunging at him with the stake as he wrestles it out of your hand. He manages to pin you back against his chest, fangs digging into your neck as you gasp. Slowly the blood drains from your body, but you don’t feel weakened. Perhaps, you even feel strengthened. Your vision clears, being able to see details in the night that you haven’t seen before.

He’s turned you.

Night lets go of you, letting you process what just happened. Your hand touches your neck, alarmed when the wet blood on your fingers is blue instead of red, sparkling in the faint light.

“A celestial vampire, first of their kind. Come with me, my dear. Let me show you what lurks in the night, what I reign over.”

You turn around to him holding out his hand to you, and most of you wants to lash out at him, attack him back. But there’s another part of you that is curious, wanting to know the extent of your abilities. You take his hand, perhaps foolishly, and in another flash of light you find yourself in a temple, filled with blood and stars. Vampires lurk around you, bowing as you pass.

“Welcome to your new home.”

[whatishappening00]

𝖬𝗒 𝖮𝖼’𝗌. ©️

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐚

Face claim;

Tw: Self harm, near death experience.

Name: Mila Moon. [real name: Amelia Ohlin.]

Date of Birth: 15th February 1965

Place of Birth: Danderyd, Sweden.

Likes: her band, True Crime, gorey movies, Satan/Satanism, learning about cults, horror, black metal, glam metal, metal in general, her younger brother, older men, older women.

Dislikes: pedophiles, intolerant people, preppy’s, rude people, Varg Vikernes, Christians, God, Christian Cults.

Personality: lunatic, self destructive, self absorbed, psychopathic, masochistic, sadistic, self hating, manipulative.

Hobbies: band practice, playing drums, black metal vocals, scaring children off.

Band Name: Mayhem [1984 — 1991 | left due to brothers // Pelle ‚Dead‘ Ohlin // Death, now having despisal against the band.], Holle lijken [active since 1998]

Music genre: wide range of metal — black metal, thrash metal, glam metal, etc..

Backstory:

Amelia 'Mila Moon' Ohlin was born on the 15th February, in the year 1965, four years before her younger brother Pelle 'Dead' Ohlin was born. They were born in a tiny town near Stockholm, Sweden, and had a big fascination towards the hard sides of metal music ever since they entered their teenage years, Amelia introducing her younger brother into it. This music was the only way to escape reality, why did they want to tho? Because of their different appearance, [Pelle had long hair, while Amelia was having a very strong, „manly“, appearance compared to her younger brother] they were bullied. Building themselves up, trying to be there for each other, they developed the habit of cutting themselves when they were in stressful situations; so almost every single day. One time, they were so beaten up to the point that they were both dead for a few moments, yet they could be revived.

This near-death experience shaped both of theirs designated to their one and only goal; Death. Feeling relief, finally.

A band in Norway, Mayhem, was searching for a vocalist, and so they both auditioned, and they actually had been able to join the band. Yet the depression of both didn’t get cured, not at all, and their self harm went to another level; they cut their arms open on concerts, bandaging them with Gaffa tape. They were also called the ‚sanity-lost siblings‘ — being honest, the name suited.

Amelia 'Mila Moon' Ohlin, lost her brother to suicide in the year 1991, and ever since then, she didn’t look out for the relief of sweet death, she wanted to cause others to wish of it. She was a maniac, and all of this, because she wanted to live for her brother. Live the life he took away from himself, so that he’d watch, and be proud of her.

———————————————————————————

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐬.

Face claim;

Tw: Drugs n‘ alcohol problem

Name: Sylas Myrvang. [stage name: Corrupt.]

Date of Birth: 5th November 1969

Place of Birth: Trondheim, Norway.

Likes: battle vest designing, guitar (especially his), women, men, sex, drugs, music, his band "Jaws of Oblivion".

Dislikes: Nazis, Anti-Antifascists, disrespect, homophobia, racism, transphobia, etc..

Personality: intelligent, creative, outgoing, sarcastic, dark humoured, brutally honest.

Hobbies: sketching, corpse paint, drawing, making music, staying at home for several days.

Band Name: Jaws Of Oblivion.

Music genre: punk rock + black/death metal.

Backstory:

Sylas Myrvang, known by his stage name Corrupt, was born on November 5th, 1969, in Trondheim, Norway. Growing up with a passion for music and a rebellious spirit, Sylas delved into the world of punk rock and black/death metal. His band, "Jaws of Oblivion," became his creative outlet, blending the raw energy of punk with the intensity of metal. Sylas was not only the lead guitarist but also the creative force behind the band's distinctive sound.

Beyond music, Sylas found solace in designing battle vests, sketching, and creating intricate corpse paint designs. His dark sense of humor and brutally honest nature made him both intriguing and intimidating to those around him. Despite his outgoing personality, Sylas valued his alone time, often spending days at home engrossed in his creative pursuits.

Corrupt's strong sense of justice led him to despise hatred and discrimination in all forms, standing firmly against Nazis, homophobia, racism, and transphobia. His intelligence and creativity shone through not only in his music but also in his unwavering commitment to fighting injustice. Sylas Myrvang, the enigmatic force behind Corrupt, embodied a unique blend of artistic passion and unwavering principles in a world where music and rebellion intertwined.

[antichrist-ish]

based off of some lyrics some guy made and then deleted

major tw for gore, death, blood, abuse etc

yandere reader / ur fav

me and your corpse in a hotel.

you stared blankly at the wall, hands covered in blood in a hotel room. you were sitting on the floor, knife and other weapons on the ground all covered in blood. a dead body now in the tub; water still and no longer clear.

you hummed a soft melody in your head as shitty hotel tv played.

moving from the floor to the end of the bed, to the chairs near a table, the table itself and then the desks spiny chair, you moved into the white and now red bathroom. looking down on the dead body, you smiled. grabbing them by the face and squeezing their cold cheeks hard and kissing them on their cold blue mouth.

don’t look this way when you’re in hell

surely you’ll be caught. the place now full with blood and the stench of wet corpse. the air smelling of wet and iron is sickeningly sweet to you.

of course you’re not crazy. you had to do this to your beloved. they betrayed you after all. how dare they even consider trying to leave you like that. run away from your love and disrespect you like that. telling people that you were insane and abusing them. poor little dove should’ve known their actions would have consequences. you told them to your sweetheart so many times before. it’s not your fault they didn’t listen. no no no, that is a truly absurd statement.

you stroked your beloveds pretty hair, which is now tangled and drenched in their own blood and water. crudely you began to hack and saw their limbs off. wrapping each limb and segment into trash bags and packing them up neatly inside your suitcase next to your clothes.

hour after hour passed of chopping up your sweet beloved into trash bags and cleaning the hotel room of any evidence of exsanguination. you left the morning of check out, handing in your hotel keys after enjoying some breakfast and getting into your vehicle back to your home.

in your living room with all the lights off and windows closed, you danced with the bagged torso of your lover.

elegantly slow dancing around and around, enjoying the delusioned warmth and their non existent heartbeat.

close the door don’t want no one to yell

[boochanz]

Like what?? Regarding your last post.

i am going to add tws to the tags but i want to warn in advance that some of this stuff is particularly graphic and difficult to read !!!

like the ‘international day of jihad’ that an angry ex-muslim who promised to take the religion down days prior decided was going to happen, based on his translations of a video that was private shortly after (so … take his word for it!). he told a bunch of gun-toting maniacs who follow him because they hate muslims that the muslims were going to blow everything up, so be ready! you know what happened? protests across the united states. that was the big scary ‘day of jihad’.

you know how they responded to people standing around with signs and saying ‘palestine will be free?’ with rage. by publicly stating that they should all be deported or killed. that it’s a mockery of 9/11. that you don’t come to their country (being the US — plenty of them were born here?) and disrespect them. that they have guns and they’re not afraid to use them. oh, and i’m forgetting the countless palestinians ICE visited that day, and the countless mosques conducting their friday sermons & prayers like they do every week that were of particular interest for the FBI.

none of the people threatening to shoot muslims on sight were of any interest, of course.

also, the amount of videos i’ve seen of anything remotely threatening captioned ‘day of jihad’ and you guessed it — there’s a context label right underneath it stating that the video is years old and completely unrelated to the situation at hand. but people don’t care because it’s another way to completely demonize muslims and bring into question the ‘true motive’ of islam & muslim’s beliefs

nobody calls into question why on the ‘day of jihad’ alongside our peaceful protests, muslim children were stabbed to death for existing. or had their lives threatened for daring to be visible to angry and vile people. it makes you wonder — whose day to cause death and destruction was this really?

or the way it is so easy for anyone to hear that muslims or an organization that is even remotely muslim-affiliated killed babies, or raped and tortured a tourist before parading her corpse around, or or or … and they IMMEDIATELY go with it even despite the claim being completely unsubstantiated. israel themselves have admitted that they have no knowledge of hamas ‘beheading babies’. the woman everyone is still talking about — she’s alive. turns out they weren’t parading her around, they were taking her to a hospital. a complete stranger made the effort to get into contact with her mother to let her know she was safe. israelis themselves have spoken out saying that palestinian fighters promised not to hurt them, made sure they were protected and left them alone. yet we are still talking about the same fucking beheaded babies and the same dead people who either never existed or have strongly fabricated stories

and what’s really fucking insane to me is that some of the most vile stories we’ve heard about what palestine has done are old stories from palestinians about what israelis did to THEM. those stories got no attention. you change the skin tones around, flip the narrative, retell the story unsubstantiated with an arab as the criminal, as the one committing atrocities, and everyone spreads it.

exhibit a:

it’s the same deal when you say hamas kept israeli children in cages and everyone believes it. the proof, of course, is a picture of palestinian children being kept in cages. or how in the media, israelis are referred to as being ‘killed’ and palestinians simply ‘die’ or how jamie lee curtis took to instagram posting a photo of how tragically afraid israelis were and you guessed it, it’s a picture of palestinians! one worth tens of thousands of likes. one can’t even scrape its way to 700. guess which is which?

my point overall is that anyone can take the plight and the tragedies that the palestinian people have endured for far too long, and they can document it and post it for all to see and it will be ignored. however, if you take the same proof of what they have been going through, and you flip the narrative… you call the palestinians ‘israelis’, and you condemn palestine for what they are doing to them… immediately, it receives attention and criticism. but it was so easy to turn a blind eye when people were under the impression that the other party was suffering.

which is why i say that a lot of this is a poorly masked excuse to be islamophobic & to hate arabs. because it’s not acceptable to hate people for no reason anymore! but, if we have sad sad little photos of all the bad bad things they’re doing, then we can hate them and we can justify the brutal killing of them. even if the things we use to hate them are actually proving why we should fight for them because it is literally their plight just with a different caption on it… we can turn a blind eye toward that part and pretend. right? right! 😇 the second you turn the oppressed into the oppressor, because the oppressed is brown… everyone buys into it without question. it’s the propaganda machine at its finest.

i don’t have the mental energy to delve further into this unfortunately — there’s more. a lot more. there will always be more. but a friend of mine @jeonwonwoo has posted a bit on the matter including some great insight into just how far the shameless propaganda goes (hiii zaynab). it’s worth a look imo

hope this helps

[colorcodedbeanies]

S2E1-"Seven Thirty-Seven"

Season 2 let's fucking goooo. Said out loud "Jesse kill him" in this moment

TW: Sexual violence, addiction, police abuse, racism

So I mentioned in the last post that Tuco very much matches a white middle class Idea of what a criminal is. Violent, unpredictable, and indulgent, with a massive temper and hang-ups about respect. At the risk of poor meow-meowing him a little I think its interesting that this is complicated in this episode. Tuco PANICS when he realizes No-Doze is seizing, enough to turn the car around and seek out the closest help he has access to. When No-Doze dies, he gets angry, striking him again. This matches what we'll learn in future episodes (and in BCS). Tuco isn't necessarily violent for the hell of it. Rather, using makes him unstable, and that instability often manifests in actions he regrets later. To be clear: Tuco has definitely killed before and likely would have again had he not encountered Hank. He's certainly not taking any steps to protect himself or the people around him. No-Doze's death is really no one's fault but his own. The Salamancas in general tend to manifest their psychological issues and insecurities into violence directed at a lot of indiscriminate bystanders. But to me, even that capacity for regret and lack of control complicates that "stone cold killer" image that Walt and Jesse have of him. Gonzo is also complicated, worrying that shoving No-Doze's corpse under a stack of a cars "[isn't] very Christian", but I'll dig more into that closer to the end.

So we've got another pairing of eroticism and criminality, but this time its manifesting as explicitly sexual violence. Walt assaults his wife. There's no other way to describe it. She is telling him to back off and until she screams "stop it" he continues to ignore her objections. To me, there's two ways to read this scene. One, Walt is unexpectedly aroused by what happened. Something about the distress of the situation, (or very possibly, being yelled at and degraded by a bigger, younger man) created a sexual reaction in him. And/or, Walt is attempting to imitate Tuco as a way to cope with the fear of that situation. Tuco beats the shit out of No-Doze, Walt attempts to act out his fear and frustration on Skyler's body (including shoving her forcefully against the fridge). Skyler even explicitly attributes it to fear, though she believes it stems from his cancer anxieties. Regardless, this isn't going to be the last time Walt attempts to imitate brown men who humiliate him/terrify him in a desperate attempt to defend his own masculinity. Bringing my inevitable cuckoldry discussion ever closer (threatening).

I think its important to give some due credit: Hank is legitimately making an empathetic attempt at helping Marie with her issues. He doesn't always say or do the right things with the situation (clearly being more comfortable tossing her at a therapist than having honest conversations with his wife). But the thing with dealing with addiction is that there's rarely a concrete right solution. He does his best (for now) to not lay blame at her feet, provides her with multiple support mechanisms, and is resolutely in her corner for dealing with this. Which would be very sweet to see if it weren't also likely some tactics he would make fun of a meth addict's family for employing. Its hard not to connect Marie's issues and Hank's work when the show takes pains to show Hank smacking a prisoner's cell bars after a frustrating interaction with her. Hank may be frequently disrespectful and callous to Marie, but he clearly views her as worth investing in, worth coaching through this, and is clearly conscious that she can't be held meaningfully accountable for what she does unless she has the proper help in place too. An attitude that does NOT apply to anyone who isn't his rich white wife.

It is notable, though, that the Schraders have clearly left this all as a secret in order to save face and keep up appearances. I went after Skyler pretty hard for how she responds to her in the moment, but I want it on record: Hank very much ambushes her with information about her kleptomania, and then immediately asks for support without a word of apology for either her distress or for keeping this from her. What Skyler says isn't kind. It isn't nice and it isn't empathetic to her sister. But she's also not wrong that she's being asked to just box up her feelings at a point when she's already under an immense amount of strain, which no one has really bothered to reach out to her for. They really are Jesse and Jake aged up, both vying to be taken seriously while also being mortally afraid of admitting to weakness in their day to day life.

Walt doesn't nail down the lie about the meth, writing off Jesse's concerns. Specifically what he says is "How much salesmanship do we really need? That degenerate snorts anything he gets his hands on." This is going to bite him in the ass next episode, but is pretty telling of how Walt views addicts. Unthinking, ravenous, almost animalistic, and importantly, with no sense of self-preservation.

Gonzo is my final note: he dies doing something innately human. He dies going back to rebury his friend, another gangster that polite society doesn't give a shit about, because its the respectful, Christian thing to do. He dies slowly and in pain, bleeding out alone. This is all extremely funny to the DEA, who pose for selfies with his corpse and cackle about the idiot criminal.

[tplambies]

og honey i'm home lore/honey i'm home song lore from ghost

these two images read:

tw: the stuff that's in the video + suicide and unreality

so you got your local lad, norman minecraft,

no but anyways first i'll give a rundown of the story then go back and clarify some symbolism

this guy's father believes that the world is an awful place to be, and that ascending to the afterlife is basically the equivalent of waking up from a nightmare (ironically, dad was the nightmare of this family). under this logic, he "mercy"-kills his wife. owwie:(! growing up with this mindset, norman questions whether things are even real at all. like, maybe this world's some elaborate setup and in order to wake up you need to pass away. he gets into substance abuse to deal at first, but eventually decides it's time to "grow up" and pull the plug. after all, everything would be alright it he could escape to the supposed real world. that's when god and charon show up:

god confirms norman's suspicions, but clarifies that there's so much more to the situation than meets the eye. he advises norman to stay by his side though so he can show him the truth. charon offers norman an easy way out - just kissing him will poison him. because the father was essentially the heart of this reality god "eats" father as both a notion of ending the simulation and of taking his place, becoming norman's new caretaker. norman leaves everything behind, wanting to forget all about it

upon waking up, it's learned that in the real world norman had been used for public live dissections in front of large audiences of angels

as for symbolization:

father's a praying mantis due to a) "praying" mantis hahaha funny and b) a reference to how the girls will sometimes kill and eat their mates. i know that doesn't 100% line up correctly, but it's just a small reference i wanted to make

the moth is basically norman - "a tied up moth seemed to know a different way" is kinda like norman theorizing to himself that dying really might be the only way out. the moth also foreshadows what happens to norman, since the moth's stuck in a spiderweb and it's a personified spider who kills him in the end. then the moth reappears chained to god's hand, which at first is meant to seem like a sign of trust, like "yea dude ur in good hands!" but it's kinda obvious later on that it's really symbolizing being trapped by this guy. i specifically used a moth since they can symbolize blind faith, since they like, u kno, they see a light and go Oohh Lämp and fuckign die. the species of moth used (small emperor moth) was just an aesthetic choice cus oh those are just-some pretty boys!!!!

this more so has to do with out-of-song info. but charon's name came from the greek god who transports souls to the underworld. which is exactly what purpose he serves in this story

the three voices are specifically talking about norman, charon and god - the only real people who appear in this simulation ("[they] come all alone" is saying they're the only people who exited the simulation after its destruction). i will confess gramophones nave no significance, just needed something that rhymed and fit the flow of the melody

"vivisection" has two definitions - first one used in the song is that it can mean a harsh analysis, so "a vivisection of me yielded the start of a mystery" is kinda saying that he's self-analyzed a lot of things about himself and his life only for it to get more and more confusing/bewildering. the second and more popularly-used definition is that of a live dissection, used specifically with the connotation that this practice is unethical - in the last chorus, it's used literally. in Ye Olden Days, criminals were often punished via public dissections being done on their corpses and proper christian burials were refused as a disrespect the individual. this also paired alongside the belief that if a body isn't given a proper burial it inhibits the spirit of the deceased from moving on. so i wanted to sorta link those two concents to show that god was, on top of publicly humiliating the poor guy, further exerting his control over norman by refusing to let him pass away peacefully (probably as punishment for thinking he could take control back over his life)

calling the figure "god" is actually a symbolization in and of itself (same goes for the religious themes that follow) so don't worry the song isn't criticizing/against religion :) i grew up with religious parents, so i defaulted to using themes i'm most familiar with - i do wanna clarity i think that whether religion hurts or helps is entirely up to the individual. how it's taught to them and/or how they personally interpret it. so if it does good for you, great! if not, i totally understand! this song isn't a commentary on that topic though so yeyeyeye

the religious themes in the song are more so playing on the idea that, it someone sets up a simulation and essentially creates everyone thing within it, what makes them any different from a god? the bible verse used was also actually a happy accident - the song turned out to be 3 minutes 33 seconds long, and i was like "oh lol just for funsies i wonder what bible verse that is and funny enough it.... kinda fit the theme a little too well

the angels at the end are kinda like npcs, but as a group are just....... there, watching. there's a whole bunch of em and they're all watching

the title and use of the phrase "honey i'm home" is saying that norman's come home, basically. he's spent so long theorizing about and anticipating the day he'd get out of a fake world, idolizing this real world and a god he knew nothing about, only his new home isn't much prettier than the one he grew up in.

so yea like i guess tl;dr honey i'm home is about a local lad who is led to believe he's being saved by god, only to realize it's just some fuck with a control complex running a simulation

ooh edgy