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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 1 year ago

Text

to leave the blood stay in the veins

monster!könig x f!rcursed!reader (no use of 'y/n') 6.6k words NSFW!

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️CW: extremely NSFW, descriptions of gore, implied consumption of human flesh by a non-human monster, mention of necrotic curse, monsterfucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, knotting (no omegaverse), outdoor sex, ambiguous ending, pre-established relationship, 0% proofread, könig and reader are both fucking unhinged.

Day 01 of the Haunted Hoedown Challenge by @/inklore

taboo au (monsterfucking) + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into." + oh no i'm dating the town serial killer

There is a beast in the woods, and it leaves so little meat on the bone that not even carrion birds find value in the corpses it leaves behind.

It’s a strange town in the foothills of the Austrian Alps, full of little sicknesses hiding in the corners, and you learned them well when you moved here. No one goes past the treeline at night. Hardly anyone is outside of home if they can help it. Tourists are the beast’s fodder.

Your boyfriend thinks it’s funny.

König, under his ever-present hood–a not altogether uncommon sight in your town, people come here when they have something to hide, something they are uncomfortable with or find hideous in themselves, and he has given an unimaginable amount for you out of love–laughs, sharp in the tooth.

“Anyone dumb enough to head into the trees is dumb enough to die,” he teases, but there is an arrogance and a contempt swimming deep in his bloodshot blue eyes.

“That’s coldblooded, but not wrong,” you tell him, from behind your own mask. Plain thing, blank in expression, modeled from the one from Eyes Without A Face. It covers the ravages of a curse, numb necrosis slowly spreading up your face through the years. “I still want you to get me a gun.”

“What’s a gun going to do against a thing like that?” he asks, tilting his head, the hood bagging off the curled horns that start at his temples and sweep back over his ears. “Something like that, you need silver. I’ll get you a knife. Big one. Nice and fucking sharp, Schatzi.”

The knife isn’t a comfort when the beast begins to hunt in town. It stalks from house to house, preying on people in their beds, their living rooms, their bathtubs–there is no rhyme or reason, not a whit of discernable pattern.

Only teeth-gouged bones and viscera ground into wall, tile, and carpet alike. Your neighbor falls victim, and you watch the police from your window, flinching when a veteran officer stumbles out into the fall-frosted grass to vomit, sobbing and pulling his hair.

“It got Emil,” you say, still watching through your sheer curtains.

König nearly cackles from your bed, lounging as he visits. “Good. Emil was a piece of shit. Depperte Fut.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, over your shoulder, before returning back to the circus in the yard next door. “‘Stupid cunt’ is a pretty strong insult. He was an asshole, but I don’t think he deserved to die like that,” you mumble.

“You don’t know all that much about your neighbors, Schatzi.”

You begin to rock side-to-side on your hips, the enormous silver blade König gifted you turning over and over in your hands, the point digging lightly into your palm.

It’s insane, the way you begin to tell yourself that you’ve seen König’s face nearly everyday for the last two years—you can see it right now. He lies on your bed, pointed teeth gleaming under his split philtrum in the soft yellow light of the bedside lamp and the red-blue flash of the cruisers. You know there is a man under the hood, however odd and satyr-seeming.

And yet. And yet.

The blade digs a little too deep, drawing a curse-blackened bead of blood. König’s eyes burn into the back of your neck, and you can only guess his horizontal pupils dilate into black holes.

Just quit your job. I’ll take care of you.

It’s a simple enough promise, and one you know König will keep, but not one you’re willing to make. You have few shreds of independence, hard-bought through years of fighting back against misfortunes and setbacks, and, no matter the depths with which you love him, you’re not willing to trade your shit wage on faith for love of a man. It doesn’t matter how helplessly besotted he is.

It’s this molar-cracking grit that delivers you right to the beast. Because you were forced to pick up an extra half shift at the hotel to fold towels behind the front desk, because you needed the money, because you wanted to pay back your beautiful, bloodthirsty boyfriend for the ridiculous blade he begat you.

The god forsaken thing lumbers down a deserted street, blocks from your little rental, and something fucking horrendous seizes you. It’s enormous, walking on cloven hooves and back-bent legs. Its arms are too fucking long, clawed, jagged. And worst is the skull, bleached white and glowing like a beacon in the dark, an enormous rack of brutally sharp horns dripping trinkets of bone and gold that glints in the street lamp it approaches.

A horrible fact hits you. It’s not lumbering, it’s wandering. Putting a massive, craggy hand on fences and peering into houses, taking its time, evaluating. You swear you can almost hear it humming.

You don’t know when your hand found the handle of the silver blade strapped to your belt under your coat, but the leather on the grip bites your palm with the force of your grip, a nauseous, cold sweat terror tearing apart your ability to think.

It’s a primal fear, one that makes you want to protect your soft, vulnerable neck, even if the blood that warms it runs venomous.

It’s a bad choice, but there are no good ones. When the beast lifts its head and scents the air, skull snapping your direction and shaking its grisly trophies, you run. You snap the huge blade off your hip and drop into a dead sprint, cutting between yards, trying to escape the horrendous bellow that reverberates through the bony chambers of the monster’s skull.

Choosing to run instead of freezing maybe bought you a few extra minutes before death decided it was time to seize your pulse in reclamation, and it hurts. The physical exertion it takes to bomb through the last stretches of suburbia before the forest closes in feels like you are breaking every bit of your body by forced choice, listening to that awful fucking thing chase after you.

Your blade makes a slicing sound cutting through the air at your side, the monster’s hooves pound the dirt as it digs in and chases after you, but, good god, it doesn’t sound like it’s even trying.

You don’t dare look back, pushing your body past agony, your lungs shredding in your chest. You’ve never moved this fast, you’ve never run this hard for this long. Your body is TV static—hissing, popping, distant—and, insanely, the urge to cry drills into your eye sockets.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die. You’re going to fucking die, stupidly and dumbly and pointlessly, because you wanted to pay your boyfriend a stupid sum of fucking money, for a stupid fucking knife that he bought you on a stupid fucking joke.

Two meters from the second worst decision of your life, the monster snaps out, rough hand between your shoulder blades, crashing you into the goddamned dirt. Your eyebrow splits on a tree root, your eyes roll in the back of your head, your hand stays manically tight on the blade, slicing your other arm.

“Schaaaatzi,” the miserable fucking thing hisses, pressing that same hand between your shoulder blades, pinning you into the freezing dirt.

Oh, god, no, it has König’s voice. It’s—it’s not him, but it has his voice, thin and washed out as low-hung fog, but you would know that voice. In hell, in high water, in the dirt with a massive, bark-rough hand grinding your skin raw through your coat—you - know - his - voice.

Furiously, you slash the blade over your head, behind your back, screaming and digging your feet in the dirt. For a brief second, as you hack at the wood of the monster’s hand and wrist, you’re even able to push yourself off the ground by mere inches. The beast growls and shoves you back down twice as hard, knocking the wind out of you, spasming your hand open. The knife drops, and you begin to blindly try digging and dragging yourself away.

“Stop…hurting…me,” the beast lows, still in your boyfriend’s voice, and you imagine a bathtub full of gnawed bones, a living room with scattered body parts, your kitchen smeared with blood like cave wall art, and you start to scream as loud as your lungs will allow, your mask filling with dirt in your horrendous and futile bid to escape. Bloody murder bellows, filled with rage, wanting to kill and consume and conflagrate.

If König is dead, you will take your pound of flesh. You will either die fighting, or win, and you will hack apart this freak-fuck’s corpse to burn in your woodstove to warm your home. You’ll mount its fucking skull on your front door, so anything else in these woods will know you won’t hesitate to make trophies of them either.

Bone, warm to the touch, presses against the back of your head. When it breathes, the air is as hot as exhaust, almost scalding your back. “Schatzi,” it bids you slowly once again.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” it rips your throat raw to shriek it, reaching back and almost dislocating your arms to rip at anything you can. Your hands fall on the dressings attached to its horns, you tear off a vertebra, and a gold wedding band, and a bracelet of rave kandi in plastic beads. “IF YOU HURT HIM, I’LL YOU FUCKING KILL YOU!”

The head presses harder, driving your face into the dirt. There is something desperate in the pressure. It spits all at once, grating and wide in a voice you know better than your own, “You pissed off a fucking witch, because you ran out of riddles to tell her, when she was ransoming you to your arshloch grandmother. She never paid. That’s why you were cursed—no one gave a fuck. But I gave her my face for you, to stop it halfway, better than fucking nothing.”

Your rage freezes immediately, your chest heaving under the weight it presses down on you.

No one knows that. Only König. He’s the only person who would know about his lonely and quiet climb up to the Scottish highlands. Besides you, and the witch, König is the only one who would know why his human face was distorted, malformed, made animalistic.

“Lee?” you pant, unleashing part of his first name, the only one he ever tolerates. And, fuck, instantly the pressure pulls away, the skull rubbing against your back to soothe it.

“It’s me, Schatzi,” the slow voice promises, nuzzling you. There’s rustling above you that you don’t dare turn to see. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

A tinkling piece of jewelry lowers in front of your eyes, and you can see that it dangles from an enormous, ligneous finger. You’re being shown a sterling silver charm bracelet. You’re being shown your bracelet, the one you thought you had lost months ago.

Your hand shoots out, wrapping around the finger, the peeling bark shearing off under your grip. You find instantly that you can pull yourself up on your hip, sitting, caged and protected under the beast’s massive body—under König’s massive body.

He shifts back onto his digitagrade haunches, holding himself over you, still offering your bracelet. He shudders at your touch on his hand, and you imagine that he may’ve never been handled with kindness in this shape. Which makes a certain amount of sense. Because he fucking kills and eats people.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snap, staring dead into the hollow sockets of his eyes. He shifts uncomfortably, turning his head. “Why—you have me so fucked up—what have you been thinking—?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, do you have to—”

“Yes, I have to, fucker.” It’s impossible to wrap your head around the magnitude of what a simple secret and a silver bracelet has done to your understanding of the world. A complete unraveling—upheaval, utterly.

You take the bracelet from his finger, on which it fits like a ring, and push it into your wrist, sitting up on your knees and grabbing him by the underside of his jaw. Though it puts you in his blind spot, staring dead center at the sinus dimples between his eyes, it feels like you have a mote of power over him.

(If he were asked, he would say the power you hold over him could corrupt, absolutely. He would badly like you to ask someday.)

“Why are you—what are you? Have you always been like this? Or was this new, with the fucking witch? Are—Jesus Christ—why are—the monster isn’t supposed to come into town, why are you in TOWN?” you run off at the mouth, words stalling and crashing and fusing together as your thoughts overwhelm just how quickly you can speak.

And up from that impossibly deep throat–simultaneously from the center of your brain, and from all around you all at once–crawls König’s pitchy hyena-laugh, edged, always, with cruelty. He butts the jagged end of his nasal cavities into your stomach, catching on the threads of your sweater.

“Leshy, Schatzi, say it for me.”

Your hands pull his jaw closer, digging the bone into your stomach, wondering if he can feel the pressure of your deep breathing. Oh, fuck, you could crack. This is your König. You start to wonder how many of his perverse buttons you can hit, the part of you that felt shame for your attraction to what the world discarded as ‘ugly’ long ago removed from your emotional bank.

“Leshy,” you say, really leaning into the word, saying it deep in your chest. One of your hands travels the long length to the hinge of his jaw, gripping tight, directing his head to turn so you can meet one of his empty eyes. “Answer my fucking questions.”

The laugh doesn’t come this time. In its place is a near-violent whole-body shudder that wracks through you.

“Old! Alwaaays been this way,” and even in the strange disconnect of his voice from his physical form, you can tell his arousal is eating away at him in big bites–clipping his speech, broiling his brain with body heat, “can’t remember ever being young, haa-haa. And why do you think I’m hunting in town?”

Another trap, a stupid pop quiz, wanting to test your knowledge of him, or a gotcha! to check your observations and what you had missed.

Your hands get tighter, and you pull his jaw open, marveling at the sharp grooves ground into his teeth, like nightmarish, ivory rook pieces, tall and straight in the dry sockets. His chest begins to heave, his breath fogging into steaming clouds over your hands, and, remarkably, it smells like nothing at all apart from pin needles and snow.

You’d thought you’d smell decaying flesh or rotten blood. The only blood you can smell comes from your own busted brow and sliced arm, crusting black on your skin and in the fabric of your sweater as it coagulates.

“If I was working on a hunter’s instincts, I would say that Schladming has become too good at keeping people out of the forests. Even during daylight hours. It cuts down on prey,” you say, ice cold and clean as a slit throat. Your eyes flick back up to the socket, surrounded by the feeling that those glass-blue eyes of his humanoid form are drilling into you. He’s waiting for you to hit the hook. “But I’m working on your logic.”

“Oh, yeeaah,” he drawls, his hips shifting, and you feel as if he would bite his lips in anticipation now, if he could.

“Oh, yeeaah,” you echo him, “the logic of a fucking crazy asshole.” He feels like a huge grin, hands on his muscular, bunched, and flexing thighs. That detail is not lost on you. “You’re hunting in town because you’re pissed off. You reached a limit, and you got tired of sitting on your fucking reaction.”

You swear to god he moans a little. Just softly. It could be a breath, but you know him too well to dismiss it out of hand.

“That’s good, Schatzi. I like that. I like that you figured that out,” he says, definitely panting in rhythm now, his fogging breath giving away the rhythm secondary. “People are looking at you too much. I don’t fucking like it when they look at you too much.”

That’s a sudden thought that had not occurred to you, and you lash yourself silently because it hadn’t. König has always been possessive of you. Jealous. Protective. And he held grudges in ways that could spark blood feuds and successive generations of death.

Like a curse.

It’s a testament to how fucking cracked and perfectly matched the two of you are that you start laughing, stroking his orbital bones in big, pleased pats, kissing the bridge of his nose.

“Schatzi, please,” he groans, pressing into you insistently. “Promise you won’t tell. Promise me.”

“Why the fuck would I tell?” you laugh, losing track of your faculties, your very sense. What does it matter? What does it all even mean? You’ve found a man that loves you so deeply and truly and twistedly that he slaughters those who desire or deign you. You’ve found, and fallen in love with a man that would sell his face to save as much of yours as he could. “Who the fuck would I tell?”

The slope of his shoulders relaxes, and he moves closer to you, once again shielding you with the massive bulk of his body, warming you in the cold air. Tucked under his chin, you can study the soft suede-like material of his body, how the bark covering his arms gives way to a ruff of dense, double-layered fur around his shoulders and his long, muscular neck.

The rest of the muscle on him is horrendously hard, flexed like steel cabling under a layer of fat. There is something about this body that reminds you of the shape of the human one so well–long legs, a nipped waist, and flat hips built to strut and rock, all of it buttressing a broad set of shoulders.

You press your face into the ruff, pushing your fingers into it. Dear god, your hand goes deeper and deeper, and it just never seems to stop. His scent is–it’s almost familiar. He’s in there, somewhere–his musk, the metallic tang of blood seemingly sunken into his skin–but there’s so much more to it. Green, and earthy, almost like soil and moss.

A sound comes from his body, like a house settling. A deep, broad creak. The trophies on his horns rattle together, clinking like dull wind chimes. “More,” he says simply, leaving you to figure it out. Simple enough.

Your hand drops from the ruff, tracing over his convex chest, down to his stomach. Another shudder, and he pulls those big arms around your entire body, a fuller, more protective hug than you’ve ever felt.

“Schatzi–would you let me…” he breathes, a heaving sigh.

Another laugh cracks out of you, hysterical, constricted by your mask. Why not? Why shouldn’t you? You’ve always been a woman that loves monsters. You, yourself, are one. You can’t find a reason to halt your hands, nor your body, nor his desire.

In an odd show of tip-to-tail, you push the mask off your face, and kick off your boots, going for your zipper. “Yeah. Yeah, honey, come on. Show me,” you urge him, pawing at his massive waist as you struggle out of your jeans.

He groans and this obscene trill escapes his body–a low, rattling moan that travels miles through every cell of your body, his legs spreading wider. You laugh in delight and mania, watching rapt as his cock slides out of a sheath you hadn’t even caught sight of, his monstrous body a foreign land you hadn’t traveled yet, but, fuck, do you want to learn the lands well enough to call them home.

It’s heavy in your hands, a little slick, and, childishly, you almost giggle (holy shit, that is a sound that has never left your mouth in your living memory, and yet, here you are). It’s hot, hotter than you expected, and a vulnerable shade of pale, like a plant slip. Oh, and it’s elegant, almost spiraling. He huffs as you stroke the length of it, pushing your fingertips into his sheath at the base.

“I don’t think this is gonna fit,” you warn him, and it somehow feels as if you’re challenging yourself with the statement.

He takes it as a challenge for himself, though, and an aspiration to hold for you, “You are going to take all of it. I’m going to make sure.”

His massive hand comes to the back of your waist, finding your fulcrum without needing to search, pulling you off your knees to hold to beneath him. “You naked yet, or still fucking around?” he asks, breathing heavily, and you shove your jeans off the rest of the way.

“You’re being a little bitch,” you snipe, a dumb swipe at reclaiming dignity after you realize you’re so wet that it slicks your thighs, having darkened the crotch of your freshly abandoned jeans pathetically.

He throws another coarse laugh, haa-haa, shifting his massive body long, pulling you into place.

It’s on you, then, to figure out the logistics. Somehow, it just works, even through layers of physical translation. Under your hands, he reads König, loud and clear.

There’s a brief, flighty moment of terror as you rub the head of his cock between the lips of your cunt, rolling your hips to stimulate your clit against it. It is just fucking enormous, almost half again the size of his human cock. But then you grit your teeth, tipping your weight back so your shoulders rest against the dirt, bleak and unyielding ruthlessness seizing your mind.

You do not back down, you have never done it once in your life, and tonight is no different.

His head lifts, bottom jaw dropping, and he bays as you push yourself down on his length. The sound crashes into you, rocking your entire body, and the stretch burns, but you buckle down. What are the people in the houses just at the edge of suburbia thinking? Has the fucking abberation that has been slowly killing its way through their number taken to a different form of punishment? Has someone unlucky fallen to its new tastes?

It cuts your mouth into a horrid grin. If they only knew that you were no victim at all, if only they had an inkling of the fact that you are a victor. That you are the hand holding this nightmare’s collar, and he attacks for the sake of you.

Inch by inch, a slow journey, he fills you, pressing completely against your walls, body shaking with the effort it takes not to thrust fully into you. Oh, what destruction that would result in, what a wreckage that would make of your body, what lengths he would go to not ruin you in such a fashion.

“Fuck–fuck–Liebes,” he mutters, just for you, the moment he is as deep in you as he can go, most of his length still outside of what your body can handle, pleading, “I can’t–I. I have to move. Please, meine Liebes.”

“Go. Go-go-go,” you answer back, almost frantic, too full and occupied, needing motion or you might split apart into atoms. The way he answers is instant, undeniable, desperate, rocking into you as if testing waters, going faster as if he finds them warm and welcoming.

You lose yourselves to it, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your head, gripping onto the elbow of the arm suspending you, blood rushing to your head in an ache from the way you hang off him, forcing you lightheaded. Sap-like blood from where you’d hacked at him in rage drips down your arm, your waist, clinging to your skin in a way that feels permanent.

He tenses all around you, panting, clouds of steam fogging the air over your head from his pants. Words escape him, leaving nothing but animalistic grunts, the grinding of his dry, exposed teeth as your desperate pussy sucks him deeper and tighter.

You’d taught him as a human to find your g-spot, to destroy your brain with a steady climb, and he doesn’t even need to search now, every movement pressing every inch of his cock into it, and unrelenting onslaught that makes you shake and nearly drool, being fucked like a sacrifice.

König raps his other fist above your head and pulls out without warning, shaking his head and breathing roughly.

You imagine brutally grabbing him by the scruff and biting his ear–what kind of punishment would that even be, no worse than a bug bite to him, more likely than anything else–for the loss of his cock. Mostly just an impulsive fantasy, too barbaric and stupid to actually act upon, but you were thoroughly enjoying yourself, and it feels like hell to be split open against him with nothing inside you.

Breathless–and naked, sweating, and trembling in the woods–you start to sit up on your elbows, cunt throbbing. "What is it? Are you okay?" you ask, your love for him–your fear for him–overwhelming even your damnation-worthy starvation.

König, massive and so dark he's almost indistinguishable from the night apart from his skull, shakes his head again and puts up a clawed hand. Fine, the gesture says, and you’re realizing he’s beyond words now, but trying his best to communicate. Then he curls it into a loose fist and pantomimes masturbating and finishing.

"Christ!" But you’re laughing, tugging at a tuft of fur on his chest, spun out in your giddiness. It’s still him, you’ve already known, but to see it. To find him through this–this utterly new reality. "They teach you that signal in the forces?"

In his hollow sockets, twisting his body to watch you closely, he looks pleased with himself, ducking forward, bracing on his free hand to one side of your head as he nuzzles into your neck and breathes deeply.

He huffs, rough fingers running over your back, claws trailing the parts of your spine he can reach as he holds you, before he taps the side of your thigh with his other hand. At your eye level, he turns his finger in a slow loop. Roll over, maybe? It's worth a shot.

"Okay. Alright," you sigh, relieved. When you try to roll in his palm, he shakes his head and sets you down, pressing down against your body, pushing his arm under your ribs. With his other hand, he gestures a flat line on the ground. You ask, "On my stomach?"

Two knocks against the ground next to your head. Yes.

You stretch out flat over the frost-crisp grass, too hot to even register the chill against your bare skin, and König lowers with you, sliding the arm under you down to your diaphragm. With his knuckles, he taps your outer-thighs until they're drawn back together, and your breathing hitches when you understand what he intends.

With his legs on the outside of yours, he uses his free hand to run his cock up the length of your seam to tease your pussy, but he takes his sweet time with it. Impatient, you slide onto your knees with near-perfect timing, driving your entrance against his head, snarling with indignation when he bows away. "Fucker!"

He rumbles something almost humanoid, between a laugh and a gruff, trilling ‘rrrr’ you recognize as cousin to a sharp, challenging hum he makes when faced with an idiot comment in his human shape.

"Stop teasing me. I can't stand it," you try instead, turning to give him big eyes over your shoulder because you know that it works well on him.

He bends down and barely-barely nips the top of your ear, a startling move that leaves you perfectly inflamed all over again again. Greedy brat, it says to you, so pleased in the fact he is so desperately wanted.

The feeling of him inside you is extraordinary. He lubricates in this state, but you hardly need it with the nearly absurd way you’re wet, slick down your thighs. You wonder if your cunt is glimmering under the dim moon and streetlamps, because he'd said that to you once. Heilige sheiße, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever fucking seen, could just stare at how wet you get for me forever, he'd laughed during one delirious, marathon session of staying sunken between your legs.

He begins to rock his hips, growling quietly and pleased at the wet sounds of your of cunt squelching around him–another sound he enjoys, a marker of pride, how wet can I make my girl get–settling onto his forearm and pressing a little weight against your back.

He rests his head across your shoulders, burying his snout in your hair, breathing in hard-bought bursts of restraint.

"Yes, honey," you almost seethe, loosening your body, giving up a little of your own iron will to become just a little lost in the feeling of him. You relax your walls in a bid to take more of him, breathing tight, voice pitching up into a plea, "Yes, baby, that's perfect. That's so perfect, keep going. Just like that."

He rocks a little faster, thrusts a little deeper, breathes a little harder. The hand around your waist shifts up to your breast, but isn't dexterous enough to do more than give it an encompassing squeeze.

With your thighs pressed together, you feel as if your body can't stretch properly to take as much of him as you want (and you want all of him, every burning hot inch, fucking him so well that he cannot disappear into one of his miseries where he will not let you follow, because they all live in his head).

He ratchets back his speed, tries a new motion with his hips. He rolls instead of thrusting, a more fluid movement, brushing your insides in new ways that leave your swollen clit screaming for attention and your eyes watering. You breathe in ragged pants, fingers digging into the turf over your head, trying not to rip it with the force of your grip by the fistful.

You might cum. You might cum. You want to cum, and you might, and he's so much deeper now, panting hot as fire against your shoulders. You can feel the muscles in his abdomen clench and dance, his horns cutting the air in swipes of agitation above you, and he is so much this way. König: bigger, sometimes bloodier, but always so, so amplified.

"Honey, honey, honey," you whine in a chant under your breath, trying to ground yourself, trying to encourage him. You squeeze your thighs together for the extra stimulation, but you know you’re going to orgasm from him alone, no extra assistance needed. You’re just greedy, you just want it all, but you want him the worst.

When he pulls out this time, you snarl loud and gnash your teeth, digging your dirt-packed nails into his unyielding skin. You were full to the brim and on the wire-edge of climax, and he is so suddenly fucking gone it's almost as abrupt as violence.

"KÖNIG!" you shout, his callsign cutting from between your teeth like the desire to slit a throat, shattering the quiet around you both, reeling to find him with your burning eyes.

He collapses onto his side, cock jumping and leaking, and he whines deep in his throat, pulling at you with the flat of his hand. Your thigh, then his hip, your chest, then his–more hand signals, a story-told like a man with a sucking chest wound needing saving. He snakes his arm under you again, whining growing deeper, and you understand.

You roll, throwing your thigh over his hip, tucking tight against his chest. You give yourself one second of feeling cool air against your overheated pussy before you take him in hand and direct him home, and his deep, slick slide into you knocks the air out of your lungs like a punch to the solar plexus.

You’re only seconds away, and he can't be much farther, driving his head under yours to give you something to rest on that isn't the ground.

You don't utilize his offering, craning your neck as if you'll somehow get a glimpse of your connection from this angle–flat against him from belly to breast, resting your cheek and forehead against his heaving chest. His whine turns into a series of small, strangled howls and gasps as your voice crawls from whimpering to keening.

You’ve known you were going to cum, but you’re still somehow surprised with yourself at how quickly it's raced up, and how overwhelming it feels like it's going to be. You feel like you’re going insane.

His other arm wraps your ribs, too, squeezing you to him like you’re the only thing in the world worth keeping close, and damn him for it. You don't know why, but damn him.

"Cum, baby, cum," you instruct, gasping when you aren't clenching your teeth. You curl close to him, as close as your body will allow, spreading your legs as wide as you can. You drive back down into his thrusts, giving as much of yourself as you can, taking as much of him as you’re able.

You want it all–everything–every little bit of blood and bone that's built him into a home he offers only to you. "Cum in me. I'm ready, I want you to cum," you demand, finding it truer than true, finding yourself right on the razor-edge.

The command is all it takes. Three hard thrusts, and he's buried in you to the base, punching the wind out of your lungs, and filling you to the point of what feels like impossibility with his spend. It forces you to finish as well, lighting you up like a lightning storm, swallowing him deeper as you cum and cum like you'll never be able to stop, soaking the both of you.

You gasp a raw-throated howl, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and you praise him as his cock kicks and kicks, emptying everything he's got to give into you.

A pressure builds inside you, beginning nearly unpleasant, until something just gives and his knot anchoring him to you feels right.

It feels special and dazzlingly intimate, and you’re boggled, again, with the knowledge you’re the only person in the world that he's ever shown himself to this way. It’s just a thing you know in your marrow, an immutable truth, like the sun setting in the west, or the cruelty of witches without their wants.

You wind down, sweating and panting and filthy in each other's arms, and you rock against him, holding him inside, clenching around him what little you can. You feel so wonderfully safe, so immaculately powerful, so stupidly, crazily, fantastically in love.

When your combined breathing evens, and the knot between you retreats, you groan when König shifts back into his human form, but only for the resituating you both have to endure.

The body against yours is familiar again, and you’re dreadfully sleepy, though you want to clean yourself and eat. You crave something raw, something bloody. You hunger the way an animal hungers after a hard fuck. His spend drips out of you now that his cock's returned to normal, and it forms a trail of cooling wet down the crease where your thigh meets your ass.

You feel lovely.

König laughs, rough and spent, tucking hair out of your face and kissing your closed eyelids. "Holy fucking shit, Schatzi," he marvels, looking at you like you are the only god that has ever mattered.

Your smile cuts sharp, and your fingers find his pulse point, tracing it thoughtfully. “You hungry? I bet you're fucking starved,” is all you say in return, eyes trailing the way his hand finds the charm bracelet newly returned to your wrist, touching it like a token.

It’s late and dark when you both manage to stumble your way back to your rental. He stays close, needy and soft, his hand on your hip, tugging you into his body when he can, careful of not knocking into the big, silver knife you’d placed back in the scabbard on your belt.

The hood is back on his head, rolled up to his nose, and his split mouth kisses against your neck and behind your ear, his eyes closed like he endures a waking dream. You, in your own filthied mask again, allow it, craning your neck to give him more room, anchoring him with an arm around his waist in return.

It is late now, and the neighborhood is silent. Again, you wonder what the quiet lives inside must be thinking–whether they think the crimes have increased into a new field of brutality, if they are fearing and wondering what body parts they will find at the treeline come dawn.

You know they will not leave the safety of their homes to investigate. They would be stupid to do something like that.

“That shower is going to feel so goddamned good,” you mutter, unlocking your door, and he nods against your skin.

“Oh, yeeaah,” he says, and the familiarity of the phrase makes you hum a laugh, shutting your eyes as you push through the threshold. "Get that blood off your skin before it stains. Your poor face, your poor arm. Poor Schatzi."

He splits off from you with a facsimile of a kiss–your masks pressing together at the mouth–and he pinches your ass before he takes off to the kitchen, his stomach growling, not even bothering to take off his boots.

You, however, kick off your shoes, and pull together clean clothes, heading toward the bathroom in the hall, the one with the big shower, in case he decides to join you.

Sleepy and content, you listen to his boots move heavily over the kitchen tile, the sound of the fridge door hissing snickt as he pulls it open, and shoves things around in his search for food. You nearly sway up to the closed door–why is it closed, you barely manage to wonder–your eyelids lead-weighted.

It takes only one thing to make them snap open wide, your back going ramrod straight. A dark smear, curling around the knob, around the edge of the door where it seams to the jamb.

Cold grips your lungs, sending your heart galloping painfully in the cage of your ribs, wondering if it really is copper you smell, or if it is a trick of your mind. The hall is too dark to tell if the swipe on the white door is red or black–if it is blood, if it is König’s or yours.

There is a presence at your back, and enormous hands on the door on either side of your head, so fast you cannot tell if you were even able to blink before you saw his wide, scarred, and knuckle-broken limbs spreading wide across the wood.

Your hand finds the grip of the knife, looking at the brutal gouges you had hacked into his forearm earlier in the night, and you are thinking faster and harder than you ever have in your life, realizing in a terrible microsecond that you will have to make a decision–that you will have to choose what reality you are willing to live with, or that you are simply mistaken.

Either way, you are moments from learning.

“Something wrong, Schatzi?” your boyfriend’s familiar voice asks, low and raspy, hot against the nape of your neck.

The laugh in his tone is cruel, and you can’t tell whether it belongs to König, or something pretending to be him.

tag-list: @alittleposhtoad @bitchoftoji @dotcie @kastlequill @miyabilicious @moths569 @parttimeprophet @pssytrux <3

#hauntedhoedown #konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work

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artistmarchalius · 2 years ago

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Cockney Rhyming Slang! ✨

I’ve seen a good amount of rhyming slang from Hobie in fics and I love to see it! I love language and slang; I find the origins and usage of words fascinating, so I thought I’d make a little post about it to offer up some knowledge, tips and suggestions that I hope will be helpful or interesting to both those currently incorporating it in fics, as well as to those who want to use it but might not know where to start. Or even to those who don’t write but want to know!

So here we go!

First, a very brief history!

Cockney rhyming slang originated from the East End of London in the early 19th century. It was originally used by Cockneys so they could speak in front of the police without being understood and was very handy if you had some dodgy dealings going on. It has since passed into common language and is no longer restricted to use by Cockneys.

So you can see why it would make sense for Hobie to know a lot of it if he’s running around rebelling against a corrupt government run by supervillains!

How does it work?

Cockney rhyming slang works by taking a word and using a rhyming phrase of about two to three words to replace it. For example: “Daisy roots” means “boots” and “Ones and twos” means “shoes”.

There can be multiple phrases used for the same word, for example: both “Trouble and strife” and “Duchess of Fife” mean “wife”.

A Cockney rhyming slang tip:

A little shortcut to make your Cockney rhyming slang more authentic to a day to day Brit is to only use the first word in the phrase. For example:

If I wanted to write “Use your head”, I could write “Use your loaf of bread” and that would be accurate, but it would be even more accurate to just say “Use your loaf”.

Another example:

“I haven’t got a clue”, which if you’ve seen Across the Spider-Verse, you would know is “I haven’t got a Scooby Doo”, is commonly shortened to “I haven’t got a Scooby”. This actually threw me off when I saw it in the cinema and I never knew why until I learned about the “first word rule” in an East End documentary the other night 😂

Other examples:

Bread and honey = money. “I don’t have enough bread for that.”

Rabbit and pork = talk. “He don’t half rabbit on”. Chas and Dave wrote a song called Rabbit, which is a bit casually rude towards women as many things from the 80’s can be, but it did give us the line “You’ve got more rabbit than Sainsbury’s“ which I find quite funny.

Butchers hook = look. “Let’s take a butchers at that”

Donkeys ears = years. “I haven’t seen you in donkeys!”

I believe that back in the day, only using the first word of the phrase was an added level of secrecy to keep the police from knowing what you were talking about since it took away the rhyming portion of the phrase which the police might have been able to guess the meaning of. Only those who knew the rest of the phrase would know what the other was talking about. It has since become a more common practice to the point where many people don’t even realise they’re doing it (as I did until recently).

However, it is still perfectly acceptable to use the full phrase. For example, I’ve called someone on the old “dog and bone” (phone) and I’ve heard the stairs be called “apples and pears” but not really just “apples”.

Other examples:

Donkeys ears = years. “I haven’t seen you in donkeys!” as mentioned above. It’s also commonly mistaken for Donkeys Years. “I haven’t seen you in donkeys years”. Although technically it isn’t the full phrase, I’d say this still counts.

Shortening and adaptations:

Over time, some of the phrases have been shortened and adapted to form new slang. For example:

Bottle and stopper = copper (police). I’ve seen a lot of use of bottle and stopper in fanfics and that’s perfectly acceptable. However, the phrase is more commonly shortened to “Bottle” or adapted to “Bluebottle” or “Mr Bluebottle” due to the colour of their uniforms. Also, “bluebottle mob” can be used to mean the police force.

Another example of shortened and adapted Cockney rhyming slang is:

“Pork pies” = lies. More commonly shortened to “Porkies”. E.g. “she’s telling porkies.”

Here are some other slang words that have their origins in Cockney pronunciation:

Wotcher - an informal greeting originating from the Cockney contraction of “what cheer” (basically meaning “hello” or “what’s up?”). E.g. “Wotcher.”

Bruv/Bruvver - brother. Used the same way one would say “bro”. Bruvver is a cockney pronunciation of “brother” which has been shorted to the more commonly used “bruv”. E.g. “Good to see ya, bruv!”

And there you go, some quick knowledge about Cockney rhyming slang! I don’t claim to be an expert on the topic, a true Cockney would know far more than I do, but I thought I’d throw my hat into the ring and share the knowledge I do have in the hopes that it will help or entertain someone.

I’ll make another post going into police specific slang terms since that seems to be something that is intrinsically tied to the Spiderman experience, as well as Hobie’s, even more so as an anarchist arachnid, fascist punching punk rebel.

I might also make another post about general British slang words. Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in or if there’s a specific area that you’d like to know about!

#hobie brown #cockney rhyming slang #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #hobie brown atsv #atsv hobie #atsv fic #fic help #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #Spiderman #across the spideverse fanfic #spider verse fanfic #spiderverse fanfic #british slang #apologies if I made any mistakes #I can only speak from my experience of being British and surrounded by other British people

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paragonrobits · 1 year ago

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Talk to the people that fight the monsters in the dark, skulking in the alleys no one remembers and hiding behind suits and smiling faces in the expensive buildings, they'll tell you stories. They say there's a city block that doesn't belong to the city anymore.

Don't make trouble for the people there. The unspoken statement is that the people there aren't... exactly human anymore. They used to be. But there's worse things in the dark then men with the hearts of wolves or undying monsters that drink the blood of the living; worse than patchwork men that spread disaster in their wake and don't understand why. Sometimes, a terrible mystery ensnares someone, trapping them in promises and story and lies, and drags them away.

What comes back isn't human anymore. It's still a person, though. They reason and understand things, same as the humans they were, once. You leave them alone, the local Union rep says. They're no harm to no one, as long as you don't bring trouble to them.

Don't rat to them, you get warned. If someone who looks too good to be true comes around sniffing for their addresses, you just smile and nod and say you never heard a damn thing. Don't rat them out. Because the people in that place will know, and they'll find you, and your family. You try to throw them back into hell, they'll return the favor three times over.

But it goes both ways; if you watch out for them, mind your business and keep their secrets, they'll help you out.

The Union rep tells you a short little story; he says that most of the time, the people in that city block look the same as you or me. There might be a few signs; a girl with teeth unnaturally sharp and pointy, or a man who knocks on wood and it makes a noise like HE'S made of wood. But if things are going normal, you won't see what they really look like, just a kind of magical mask that hides them. But they got their fancy tricks, and they know all about escaping bad situations.

So if you do your part in the deal, they'll help you out. Pretty much anything; a single mother went down to them after some bad business with her ex came up and her kids went missing. Well, she talked to Pop Hammerfist, the big ol' dude that looks like someone carved a tree into a man. Her ex was on the news in the hospital a few days after, yelling about the trees following him, and her kids were back home safe and sound, and with the ex having already signed a few agreements to pay his damn alimony already.

Or a little boy with a missing cat came up to them and asked for help. If any of the real hunters or Union folk had heard about it, they would have stopped him, but the people in the city block didn't turn him away. They nodded, and listened, a few hours later came back with the little boy's cat, safe and purring up a storm. You help them out, they help you out; I hear that kid tells 'em stuff he heard. 'Spose there's a lesson in that. We're all in this together, long as we don't tear the boat down with us in it.

Reminds me of a story about the lady who brought the cat in, in fact. A big lady; has to go to special shops to get clothes that fit. Weird shiny teeth, too, with the weirdest damn braces I ever saw, if those are braces. You hear some funny stories about her, that when she comes knocking the whole floor shakes, but she couldn't be a sweeter lady. Nice to kids, loves cats, always help out. If she's got the weird habit of speaking in rhyme before she says anything else, well, we all got our promises, I guess.

Well, a while back, we had a Slasher. Yeah; the thing that happens when a Hunter goes bad, or someone just gets too much of a taste for murder. Killing opens up a soul, and some part of us leaks out, or something else gets in. This particular fellow liked to call himself a real genius; a real nasty piece of work that liked making elaborate death traps and leaving people to die. Well, we worked out he was there when they started finding the bodies, and by that point he'd already gotten the Big Lady.

...Yeah, that's the name of that lady I mentioned. Long story.

Well, we found what was left of him, and his death traps. The whole place was smashed to pieces by something big. Big and helliciously strong, I'd say. It was like the set of those torture horror movies got hit by a storm. And they found the guy, or. What was left of him. Looked like a wild animal had bit him up, or a jaguar.

Well, from what we heard, he got her all right. But she might have been a bit more than he bargained for. I'm not sure exactly what she did to him, but they were cleaning his blood and bone off the wall for weeks. They said his skull looked like something real strong had just slugged him, so hard he sorta splashed. Don't make me draw you a picture, pal.

But, yeah. Funny thing is, they said the fist mark was so big you'd need a person the size of an elephant to throw that kind of punch. And we kept seeing cats around the area. Really, really big cats.

..You remember about promises. You keep 'em with the city block folk, because they got all kinds of things keeping promises to them.

What happened to the Big Lady, you ask? Oh, she's still around. Helps out the local Union cell now and then. Good hand if you need brute force.

She don't much like having to handle anything that's got too much iron in it; steel is fine, but not real iron. She saws its an allergy.

...Yeah, I know how it sounds. But we got our funny ways, and she keeps her promises, so keep your nose out of it, yeah?

#hunter the vigil #changeling the lost #nwod #chronicles of darkness #my writing #fics #queued

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n4giism · 1 year ago

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⇢ ˗ˏˋ break you off by sonder ࿐ྂ

bllk x gn!reader

characters: kenyu yukimiya, tabito karasu, eita otoya, shouei barou, oliver aiku, michael kaiser, gin gagamaru

content: their nicknames part 2!

ari’s note: omd guys yall rly seemed to like part 1 of this nickname series so i thought i should write a part 2😜 here it is hope u like it !

part 1

kenyu yukimiya:

— yukki

people call him this often. it’s the name he introduces himself with.

“hello, my name is yukimiya. but you can just call me yukki.” because he’s friendly and chill like that.

you and all his friends call him this and he addresses himself as ‘yukki’ too. it’s such a cute name.

— ken

ken! that means you are his barbie <3 he likes joking around with this name and you do too!

well it is true, he would do anything for you like how ken does anything for barbie.

if you like to watch barbie movies/series he’ll gladly watch them with you too. i feel like yukki is also the type of guy who isn’t afraid to wear pink in public he’s ALL for it.

— ken-not see

i feel like karasu and otoya made fun of him with this😭

like just imagine this silly trio arguing and yukki brings up something like, “why don’t you stop putting so much gel in your hair, some of it seeped into your brain and now you’re all stupid!” to karasu and the room goes silent.

otoya giggles a bit and before y’know it karasu it biting back with, “yeah? at least i can see! ken-yu see?! how ‘bout that?!”

yukki is shocked and otoya is just laughing to himself watching this unfold and now, karasu has yukki’s contact changed to “ken-not see”.

tabito karasu:

— tabi

such a cute name for a manly guy. you call him this often and he seems to like it. sometimes he likes it so much that he won’t respond if you call him “tabito” or “karasu”

he’ll only respond if you call him ‘tabi’!!!

and only from you!! like if his friends call him ‘tabi’ he’ll ignore it because it’s special and only for you to use.

— tiramisu

the two of you were playing around with words and you somehow managed to connect the word ‘tiramisu’ to his full name.

the ‘t’ is taken from ‘tabito’, and ‘tiramisu’ rhymes with ‘karasu’ hence this ridiculous but funny nickname came to be.

— kraasu

like just imagine the typos you make when you text him and one day ‘kraasu’ popped up and you haven’t let it go ever since.

i guess it’s also an easier way to say ‘karasu’ it’s basically just shortened to ‘krasu’ y’know!

eita otoya:

— ei

he doesn’t really mind it, but it’s cute. just ‘ei’.

— toyota

he frowns a little when people call him this but he doesn’t stop them. it’s like a playful name for ‘otoya’.

sometimes people confuse his name as ‘toyota’ like the car too so!

— yoda

if you take his last name ‘otoya’ and just merely play around with it and mix up the letters to ‘yota’ it sounds just like ‘yoda’!

and it suits him (???) because of the green in his hair just like the actual yoda from star wars!

shouei barou:

— sho/shou

simple. short. easy.

barou likes it when you call him this, it’s cute and he replies to this name.

— baron bunny

kinda like amber from genshin💀 i’m so sorry if you don’t play but basically there’s a character who has these bombs that explode and she calls them baron bunny.

idk i just thought barou’s name is similar to baron when i first started bllk lolol

— barou, barou, kyun!

LMAO nagi and isagi will not let this ago during that blue lock selection games. when you started dating barou and met with his friends from bllk they were quick to tell you about how barou acted during their time in blue lock.

nagi having a fever dream about barou being a maid and isagi adding on to it with barou wearing a maid costume and chigiri would’ve done his makeup with bright red lipstick.

it’s funny to think about…

oliver aiku:

— oli

sometimes he doesn’t like it because of oli london😭 but it sounds so nice and the way it rolls off your tongue makes him melt so he forgets about that cursed koreaboo and just loves when you call him this.

— ai/aiku

he especially loves ‘ai’ because it translates to ‘love’!

so it’s kinda like you’re calling him ‘love’ when you call him ‘ai’ ugh he just loves it.

— captain

you joke around and call him this when he tells you to do something.

“y/n, could you get more of my protein snacks from the store later?” “yes, captain.”

“y/n, could you help to time my runs today?” “of course, captain.”

it doesn’t faze him, he’s so used to being called captain by his teammates that he doesn’t really care.

michael kaiser:

— micha

pronounced as ‘mika’. it’s cute, he smirks a little when you call him this.

— kai

i guess he likes this too! it’s simple and easy to pronounce.

— liebling/schatz

he loves when you call him any of these names. any german term of endearment, he just loves it.

he’ll also call you this too, and so you picked it up from him and begun calling him these lovely names too!!!

gin gagamaru:

— ginnie

he smiles sooo wide his eyes close when you called him this for the first time. he didn’t know how much he loved being called a nickname until it slipped out of your mouth!

“you’re calling me that? that’s so cute…” he mutters, all smiley and giggly.

i guess there are two pronounciations for this. it could be “ginnie” with a g, or like “jinnie”!!!

— gaga/lady gaga

he was confused at first like “who is lady gaga” until you explained to him and he likes it!

he thinks it’s silly and cute.

— gin

short and sweet. he likes his name already but he loves it even more when you call him this. it just melts his heart and he just loves you so much :,)

end.

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good-beanswrites · 1 year ago

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haii bean !!! I wanted to bully kotoko request some funnies and sillies :) could you please write a drabble with amane and yuno (and anyone else) annoying kotoko . i feel like amane and yuno would go :3 and kotoko would go >:T… ofc feel free to ignore/dlt this :3

LOL of course! I'm sad I've become the Milgram Bully but I'm glad to give the boys a little break 😂 Thank you so much for the request, it was really fun getting back into the swing of writing with this! (also wooooo it's getting me so hyped for Deep Cover!!) Out of everyone, those two could definitely get away with :3-ing Kotoko to no end...

“Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-sev--”

“Hey, Kotoko?”

“Thirty-se, er, thirty-eight...”

“Kotoko?”

“Thirty- uh…”

“Hey, hey, Kotoko?”

She rolled onto her back, having lost count of her pushups. “Yuno.” Her voice was even between heavy breaths. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Actually, I can see you need a break, and I’m happy to provide one!”

With a grunt, Kotoko sat up to face her. Yuno smiled down, her eyes sparkling with... something. Amane stood nearby, looking just as suspiciously sweet.

“What do you two need…?”

“We’re here to join you,” Amane said. “We wish to work out.”

“Oh? You’ve never been interested in exercise before.”

“Well, you yourself have motivated us to get stronger.”

“I’m pretty sure you just got bored…”

“Of course not! We’re committed!”

Kotoko studied them with a harsh look. They smiled innocently back. She narrowed her eyes. They widened theirs in anticipation. She leaned back. They leaned forward.

Yuno clasped her hands together. “Come ooon~ It’ll be fun having workout buddies! I’m a very hard worker, and you’ve seen how well-behaved Amane is. How bad could it be?”

Very, apparently.

She started with some stretches to get them warmed up. It was impossible to get them to focus, or hit the right positions, or stop giggling. Kotoko tried to tell them about breath control, but they seemed more excited to chatter on about everything under the sun.

“I’ve always thought of stretching like this and being a famous dancer,” Yuno said. “Like a ballerina…” She did a little set of twirls. Kotoko tried to tell her not to do anything to crazy before they’d warmed up, but she just kept on spinning.

Amane’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to be in a marching band. They’re like dancers, a little bit!”

“Ooh, you’re right! I could never be so uniform, though, I want to do my own thing… like an idol or something!” Yuno did another set of moves. No one was following Kotoko’s perfectly timed toe touches anymore.

“I guess we can get started…”

There was just as much dancing when they began jumping jacks, despite the fact that there were only two very clear positions to hit. Yuno wanted to do sets that traveled around the room, then ones that turned rapidly around in a circle, then ones that turned really rapidly in a circle. She and Amane made themselves dizzy with it.

Kotoko decided a good, grounded activity would serve them better. They took turns holding each others’ feet and counting situps. Yuno got distracted easily, delving into nonstop conversation whether she should have been counting, watching, or doing the situps herself. She’d use her hands to talk, letting go of whoever she was meant to stabilize. Amane, on the other hand was practically a drill sergeant the way she tried to keep the others on pace.

“Eight! Nine! Ten!”

“Amane, I think you’re supposed to count when I sit up, not force me to keep up with you…”

“Well don’t be so slow about it, and you’ll stay in time. Let’s go! Eleven! Twelve!”

“Ack!”

Kotoko rubbed her temples. Maybe adding some equipment could keep them busy?

Jumping rope brought new struggles. Yuno spend ten minutes trying to recall a schoolyard rhyme to jump rope to, and teach it to Amane. They both encouraged Kotoko to join in, but she was jumping at a faster rhythm. That became impossible as their chanting filled the room. Moreover, none of them could stay in their own space. There were about five rope tangles before Kotoko decided to call a break.

(She didn’t exactly know what they needed a break from, they’d hardly done anything.) The girls seemed happy to sit down and chat, though. Kotoko reluctantly passed her protein shake over as they asked to try it. “One sip…”

She covered her mouth, deep in contemplation. Maybe these exercises were too easy. It was too easy to get distracted out here in the common area. They’d be forced to buckle down and focus on something more taxing, right?

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “After this we’ll head over to my cell, okay? I have a bar installed for pull-ups. It’s tricky, but you have to start somewhere.”

“Hmmmm…” Yuno tapped a finger to her chin. “I’m not sure about that. You know… I think you were right. I think we were just bored. Well!” She clapped her hands together. “I guess we’ll stop bothering you now. Bye!”

Amane joined her for a curt bow. “Thank you for your time.”

Kotoko blinked after them. “Er, but…!”

Just like that, they were gone.

She released a long breath. She picked up her shake. It was empty.

#milgram #kotoko yuzuhira #yuno kashiki #amane momose #LMAO thank you so much for the request!!#sorry for the wait but dont worry - the thought was tickling me the whole holiday break asdfds #kotoko seems the type to be Very strict and structured about her routines #she cant fathom not following the proper forms and practices #so to have the two prisoners associated with 'i just want to have fun' and 'is it okay if i just have fun' would completely throw her off #😂😂😂#also thinking of that minigram where yuno steals her shake asdfds #rip kotoko - she knows no peace surrounded by all those sillies........#es at least gets to sleep between trials but kotoko gets no break from their nonsense -_-#DEEP COVER THUMBNAIL THIS WEEK #<- she is so so normal about it!!!!!#drabbles

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on-a-sunbeam · 9 months ago

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Revenge and Dollhouse for the ask game?

YES HI!!! Uhm I’ll do Dollhouse first!

My rating (1-10): I’d give it a 6, maybe. Which is to say that I enjoyed it A LOT but also I have just like. A Few Critiques. Just one or two.

My favourite character: ADELLE!! There is no contest here at all I loveee her

My least favourite character: Okay, this used to be super easy because I really hated Topher at first, but I have grown to tolerate him so. I mean I hate like almost all the clients and also Sierra’s handler, but you’re supposed to hate them so it’s not really specific to me, I guess. I’ll say Nolan though, for obvious reasons.

The character I think I'd be friends with: I think Ivy because I have friends that Ivy reminds me of heh

The character I think I won't hit off with: Maybe Ballard? He seems very serious I don’t know

My favourite episode/scene: EVERY SCENE WITH ADELLE. I’m kidding but only slightly. Uhh I really liked A Spy in the House of Love, though, and I think Echoes is pretty funny. Belonging has um. A LOT going on in it, but I will say I really liked Adelle in that one, too.

Whose clothing style I like best: Unfortunately, I’m legally obligated to say Topher because I dress exactly like him. It was slightly detrimental to my whole initial hating-him campaign that every time I saw him I went ‘ah I would wear that’

Times I watched it (and if I would again): Once! And I definitely would again; despite its flaws I do really like it and it’s not super long either. Plus Adelle.

Aaand Revenge!!

My rating (1-10): 8.5! I love it a lot

My favourite character: UHHH HARD tie between Emily and Victoria. I do also really like Amanda so I don’t know.

My least favourite character: It’s been a hot second since I’ve watched this, so no one’s really jumping out to me. I will say though that I somehow forget that Jack exists half the time. I really don’t know how I manage that when he’s kind of a Main Guy, but it’s still a little surprise every time he shows up. This doesn’t even happen to Declan, just to him.

The character I think I'd be friends with: I’m not saying Ashley is normal, per se, but I am saying she’s MOSTLY normal. I feel like we could hang out and chat while I was blissfully unaware of any scheming.

The character I think I won't hit off with: I have a weird soft spot in my heart for Tyler but we most certainly would not be friends

My favourite episode/scene: SHOOT. Okay, I liked the party where it all came full circle to the beginning, and I feel like there were some really good twists, but I really like the scene where Amanda dies (which is stupid because I love Amanda but). Also I know this is SUCH a small thing, but for some reason that group shot of the Grayson’s after Victoria kills Helen means everything to me. It’s so silly, but I love it so much.

Whose clothing style I like best: Nolan, maybe? I don’t know, I feel like he had some iconic looks.

Times I watched it (and if I would again): I have a confession to make guys, I actually have not finished it yet 😔. I’m actually still in the middle of season 3 because I’m slow at watching things sometimes. But I have really liked it so far, so odds are pretty good it would be something that I will rewatch!!

Sorry, I just thought of an answer to the least favourite character thing. I HATE AIDEN. I HAVE NO RHYME OR REASON I JUST DISLIKE HIM.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the ask though!!!

#yayayay i love talking about silly lil shows :D #also I SWEAR I WILL ANSWER YOUR MESSAGE #it is taking me a million years i’m sorry :(#revenge #dollhouse

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hydropyro · 1 year ago

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Raphael / Hope Theory

Continuing from my previous theory regarding Raphael's relationship with Haarlep, this is my theory about Hope.

Raphael is 'in love with' Hope (in his way, to paraphrase him)

Evidence 1: In the House of Hope there are several notes written by Korilla that document conversations between Hope and Raphael. The most important of them for this theory is 'Taming of Hope Part 1' which reads as follows:

- - -

Raphael: Did your mother sing you nursery rhymes?

Hope: What?

Raphael: Little Miss Teffle, sat on her kettle, steam blowing between her lips. Along came her oven, in need of some loving, and soon she had scalded her hips.

Hope: That's funny.

Raphael: And yet you do not laugh. Come, Hope. Don't look so aggrieved. This little realm around us, this house, you have mastery of it.

Hope: And you of me.

Raphael: Sing me a song. Hope? I'm speaking to you. Now, don't go silent. I'd hate to have to slit a child up the navel and rinse you in their insides.

Hope: You're some pervert.

Raphael: Then sing me a song, I say! Nursery-sweet. But don't demean. I'll know if you do.

Hope: (after some moments she does. I remember our mother used to sing it to us, a gentle melody laden deliciously like plump young arms laden with autumn-ripe apples. When the song concludes, Raphael sighs and looks at my sister)

Raphael: You're something, my dear. Really rather something. I would have you master your own fate. Let me give you free reign to do so. Let's abandon this whole ugly imprisonment. Serve me willingly. Things would be as merry and jubilant as that song you've just given me.

Hope: Sweet Raphael?

Raphael: Yes, Hope?

Hope: Eat. Shit.

Raphael: But--

Hope: Stuff your maggoty tongue in some other woman's ear.

Raphael: (here he looks upon her with such longing and hate I think he might actually [end] her.) Oh, that was in error, my dear. In grave error. I shall see you soon.

- - -

I believe that Raphael constructed the House in part for her, and repeatedly asks that she take her place, I believe as the 'lady' of the domain.

Her sister, Korilla, is Raphael's loyal warlock. Her mortality points toward Hope also being mortal and not some ancient embodiment of the concept of 'hope', though Raphael probably gets a kick out of the juxtaposition. My personal headcannon/assumption is that Korilla sought to be his warlock before Raphael's obsession with Hope began, and that Hope may have been part of Korilla's payment for his patronage.

The House of Hope was built just before the events of BG2, and thus is just over 100 years old, well within the lifespan of a mortal dwarf.

We know this because while in the House of Hope in Act 3 we can speak to the Infernal Mason, a skeleton that claims to have been the architect of the House. He was *also* the architect that built Moonrise Towers for Ketheric Thorm. Upset by Thorm's corruption and change of devotion from Selune to Shar, the architect made a deal with Raphael, asking him to fight Shar's encroaching armies before the Shadow Curse took hold.

Raphael did this, which is how Yurgir came to be in Shar's Gauntlet, as he was part of the fighting force against Shar, and specifically her Dark Juctisiers.

Now, on a darker note (TW: SA) I think Raphael has likely found loopholes to try and get with Hope. As a devil I think he requires affirmation of some kind, or a positive contract, before he's able to assert himself over anyone (in any fashion). This is why he doesn't force himself on Hope. He can't. She would say 'no', and he can't breach that. (Whether he physically can’t or has a personal boundary not to, I’m not sure)

But, when you first visit the boudoir, Hope appears and expresses disgust for the space. You can ask her, "Have you been here before?" to which she replies, "Never willingly," implying that she *has been there unwillingly*. Knowing what we know about the space, I'm guessing that she has met Haarlep.

I think it's possible that Raphael has used Haarlep to charm a 'yes' from Hope. (ie Hope would say 'yes' to Haarlep under his innate incubus charm/seductive magic but wouldn't to Raphael).

Haarlep, like Raphael, also appears to require an affirmative, but has natural abilities that cause people to be charmed and seduced by him, forcing people to agree to things even if it's not entirely consensual. As such, Haarlep is able to take your soul if you fail certain checks during that scene (or if you click on the option to give up your body and mind for scientific purposes).

Raphael his highly charismatic, but he doesn't have these magical charms, and so he has no way to coerce Hope to say 'yes' other than torture, which hasn't worked thus far.

Whether that would mean Raphael could also participate along with Haarlep, or would only be able to watch, I'm not sure, but given all of the evidence I have no doubt it's happened.

And, in Raphael's form Raphael would have all the sensations even if Haarlep was the only one capable of touching her.

I believe Raphael intends to create a sort of Zariel, corrupt someone holy and use their power for evil. Hope is powerful, and he allows her to indulge in her power. For example she’s able to ‘astral project’ in a sense around the House, and he permits it.

Raphael intends on becoming a God. While I don’t think he’s ‘lonely’ I think it’s possible he gets bored, and would want a partner to keep him company. It seems that Hope is the goddess he’s set his sights on.

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael #haarlep #hope #theorycrafting #theory

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soulcialdent · 5 months ago

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狂い咲き kuruizaki

Day 7: 狂い咲き kuruizaki (Japanese)

Flowers that bloom out of season. Things that happen at unexpected timing.

Feeling bloom at unexpected times. Sometimes with no rhyme or reason. Hyuuga Neji considered himself a very logical person. So things like emotions threw him for a loop. There were times in his life when they had gotten the best of him. Like during Chunin exams where he unleashed his wrath on Hinata. On that same day, later when Tenten has come to see him. She held him down while everyone else seemed to shun him. That's the day he realized that she was his most important person.

They did discuss it later and she explained that she didn't agree but she understood. It was more important to be there for him than to criticize him. They were Teammates after all. He now knew that he could trust her with everything.

I guess others could see the shift between them as well. The lines between their relationship became so blurred. People just knew they were together! But they really weren't. They brush it off and go about their business. They were perfectly fine with how times are.

Neji and Tenten were their own people. They had aspirations, dreams and lives that they prioritized outside of their friendship. Tenten was even more stubborn than Neji, while they’ve been attached at the hip for so long. She was like a cat, her need to come and go as she pleased was essential as breathing.

He doesn't know what to exactly call their relationship. Friends with benefits seemed the closest but they were little bit more than that. Soulmates could work as well. Duo were tied together emotionally, physically and in every other way that matters then in the label.

Neji did love her, he supposed. After the war, this was clear while everything else became convoluted. Neji not being ninja anymore changed things. He couldn't watch her or deter men in the same way he used to. He supposed that's how she ended up tangled with the traitor Uchiha Sasuke.

Tenten had always been pretty popular amongst their peers. Especially the ones who were a bit older. This never really bothered Neji. Until now, the idea of someone replacing him at her side. Building what they had with one another, the mere thought wrecked him. It was bad enough, he lost his purpose but he couldn't lose Tenten too.

In his pursuit, of being a cockblock and tryin' to stay number one in Tenten’s eyes. He ended up befriending Sakura Haruno. Initially, they ended up being paired off when Sasuke and Tenten would get together. Over time, they gradually got closer. He'd known Sakura had always been beautiful but when she got excited about something. She glowed! That was a sight to behold. Funny, how her presence had been the thing to save him from loneliness. Too think, he wouldn't have gotten a chance to experience this if it wasn't for Tenten.

Neji stopped his pondering when he heard a knock at the door. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of Tenten with Baby Metal in tow. He opened the door wide enough for both of them to walk in. Neji ruffled Metal’s hair before shutting the door.

“So what do I owe this visit? Aren't you a few hours early” Metal pulled at Neji's pants leg so he could get picked up. Neji picked Metal up and the baby clung to his neck.

“Just checking in. Do I need a reason to wanna be with my boys?”

No, she didn't.

“I got in early this morning. I felt bad about not coming to see you. On my way here, I bumped into Lee and Metal wanted to tag along when he heard I was going to see you” Neji was his favorite uncle. Even though he had a few.

“Figured you’d be with Uchiha since you've been gone for a few weeks”

Tenten rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

“I was. But I needed to come see you. He's probably still fuming like a big baby”

Neji and Tenten shared a smile before laughing Neji still didn't get what Tenten saw in the Uchiha. Not even a pretty face is worth the bullshit he dishes out. She honesty could do so much better

“I don't imagine he would be happy about that. Under the circumstances, I’m not sure, I’d want to share either” he put Metal down on the couch “Would you like some tea”

She shook her head no.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask. What's the deal with you and Sakura?

Neji was wondering when she would ask. As he watched Metal roll off the couch and start walking around.

“ Well, why do you ask? “

“Sasuke thought it was a good idea to set you up. He and Naruto kinda put things in motion so it could happen. By the time I was made privy to the scheme. You two seemed to be getting along so well. I didn't want to ruin it. You seemed happier to me. You know”

“She's a nice girl and I do like spending time with her”

Tenten let out a gasp she didn't know she was holding. She felt so relieved.

“Good for you Neji” she genuinely smiled at him “ I was worried about you. It was always kind of been me and you against the world. Our relationship has always been a little complicated. Then the war happened and so many things changed. I was afraid that you shut everything out including me”

Neji shook his head

“I thought I was going to lose you too. If I couldn't fight alongside you anymore. what purpose do I serve in your life? I figured that if you saw me in a different light maybe we could stay together a little longer.

Tenten stared at him surprised. She figured something at been wrong at the time. Neji was abnormally clingy. More touchy-feely than he’s ever been. Any chance to touch her he took. Tenten remembers him being really good at it too. Not that she minded, at least at first. To be dotted on and taken care of was nice. He run her baths. Cook her meals. Give her massages. On top of things they did regularly.

But his kisses unnerved her, it was almost like was kissing a different person at first. Too an extent she was. They were both different people.

“I’m sorry, If I took advantage of your kindness in any way. I understand what you were trying to tell me then”

“I'll always be here for you Neji” She needed to make that clear.

“As for the other stuff. It was nice sharing those moments with you. It was just so easy to be like that with. I was messed up back then too. I don't know what I would have done without you”

Like most things Neji was good at intimate stuff too. He was just as observant in the bed as he was on the battlefield. It was sickening and made it that much harder to end their fling. Why would she? Everything she wants and needs could be found here right in this person.

In this trauma bond. They weren't together because they wanted to be. They were together because it was convenient.-familiar. They could always count on each other. And Neji almost died. The guilt for not being there for him much during his recovery ate away at her. Whatever able-body shinobi were available after were deployed for all sorts of reasons. Supplies, escort duty, and whatever was needed. The months following had been just as brutal. She checked on him and Gai Sensei as much as she could.

She never had the time to process anything. When she did, she was already in the thick of whatever it was she and Neji had going on. So learning they both were struggling with something similar almost broke her heart.

“Neither would I”

“You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm the one that should be apologizing. I hurt you. I should have talked to you about Sasuke. Made sure we were good first. Don't know what I was thinking at the time but regardless you deserve better.

She did hurt him. But Neji wouldn't hold that against her.

“I forgive you"

#anime #manga #nejiten week 2024 #neji hyuuga #hyuuga neji #Team Gai #Fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #fanfic #Tenten #naruto shitposting #naruto fanart #naruto fandom #masashi kishimoto

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postaldouche · 27 days ago

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S2, EP10 I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD KILLS! sorry for the wait (again)! i got sad (again) lol. i really do enjoy posting my little episode comment-note finding things online, though. i try not to do it on my public twitter out of fear of being mistaken for another person who used to do something similar ee </3 negative internet interactions and dramas irritate me, especially if they're unnecessary and nothing burger in nature (ee </3) STILL! i like the formatting for posts on tumblr! a lot! and i also like the interactions i get on my posts, even if they are very few compared to what they could be! THAT BEING SAID! WE'RE BACK TO THE EPISODE! YAY!

we re-open with the boys! back at the motel and seemingly in (some sort of) ""crisis"".. at least on Dean's end. Hank is perfectly fine! he's not taking any of this seriously! why should he? they've both been faced with worse (Dean's just kind of a sissy, admittedly..) to be honest, Hank's more confused and amused (and very weirded out) - he's just going with the flow of things lol

"you are NOT our mom! you just CAN'T be! > _ <" "on the count of the crazy! :)" he is so annoying ee

Myra (my angel) tries to comfort and reassure them, claiming that things she says (her claims that she is their mother) are true - but it's communicated in a kind of "this doesn't help your case at all, you fucking whack job" way and she starts rhyming and babbling out nonsense again lol. "sort your feelings, boys! you know it to be true. so true.. funny, how it seems always in time but never in line for dreams.." tumblr poets would LOVE her

"oookay. we're losing her again-- (¬､¬ ;)" whatever, mr sassy pants -_- (sometimes you can really tell that the boys are rusty's children.. they have his bad attitude smh)

oh yeah, and here comes one of my least favorite bits ee <</3 honestly, i've never really liked the fact that sergeant hatred's entire gimmick (at least during the pre/earlier phases of his character) was that he was a pedophile/kiddie chaser. the confirmation that he's touched the boys is kind of even MORE ick. i don't know. maybe it's just me, but i really don't like how in some of the earlier seasons you can really see how some of these gags/jokes were really just.. kind of shit. maybe i'm biased (i have a one sided beef with the vbros creators for some of their.. ""short comings"", don't tell anyone), but i really do think a bit of "tender thought" should have gone into some things. i guess that's just the humor of the earlier phases of adult swim, however (some of that humor still lingers) sorry for being the friend that's too woke </3 i just love sergeant hatred and the boys, and the fact that dean appears to be so mortified in this scene (and hank's obvious dislike and discomfort of hatred later on) just hits me right in the feels. it's a bit too close to home </3 why couldn't they make him a standard creep, huh?? why couldn't they make him ANYTHING but a jailbait liker? whatever, not like i care too much about it. sgt hatred is still pookie. ANYWAYS,

"or touch us - inappropriately," "what?? when-- ??"

"that never happe--" "sergeant hatred?? what, didja block that out??" aghh and he's so genuinely bothered, and hank's so annoyed at him for NOT remembering (also a little bit at being accused of lying) </33 i love you deanie-pie. i love you hanky-poo. i can see why tawnie and fri liked you guys so much. you're terrible.. my little squeaky-toy-things </33 note: dean LITERALLY sounded like a squeaky toy here. high pitched voice and all lek.

on the bright side, hank fang i guess ee

i just like these faces, if i'm being entirely honest ee

"aw. no, wait -- you were passed out from the wine. MOST OF IT was AWFUL, trust me." MY BOYS MY BOYS MY POOR BABY BOYSSSS FOREVER SPITEFUL OF THE FACT THAT RUSTY WAS SO VERY WILLING TO LET SGT HATRED BACK INTO THEIR FUCKING LIVES AND ALLOWED FOR HIM TO HANG WITH THE BOYS ALSO THAT WEDDING EPISODE WHERE HANK HAD TO SIT NEXT TO HATRED?? SHOOT ME.

"THIS IS NO LIFE FOR MY SWEET BOYS! i would have never have--"

"RUSTY!!! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!?!?"

SHE COULD BEEEE A GOOD MOTHERRRRR oh my god OH my god nobody touch me the fact that the ONLY one who seems to have shown extreme concern and discomfort on behalf of the boys towards the situation was MYRA??? THE CRAZY WOMAN???? nobody touch me. rusty venture must DIE. i am so extremely passionate about Myra and the fact that she's a good woman and person who's just fucked up and needs help. i love her so much. nobody is allowed to talk about her near me. she's perfect. my princess, my queen. i love her. </33

anyways, cutesy wutesy..

#venture bros #the venture bros #the venture brothers #myra brandish #hank venture #dean venture #sgt hatred #???#idk he's not here but i guess i'll tag him since he's mentioned #sergeant hatred why have you forsaken me whats your deal brah #anyways #fuck YOUUUU RUSTY VENTURE #RUSTY MUST DIE HE MUST DIE HE MUST DIE #stop because i literally canNOT handle what happened to myra and what he did #she was a good normal girl i hearted her so much #he's going to hell for what he fucking did to her mind istg #bro and the fact that she was probably like #sally when she first had the crush #what is it with those mentally ill blondes in this show #its getting kind of fucked up (i've watched the show countless times)#ANYWAYS #henchmen in the next post so watch out #i'm trying to get this baby out the way so i can post about the next episode soon #i'm taking my time with this watch because why not #i like posting my findings to here #also hopefully posting this junk helps me find oomfs #i'm shy tho #ee

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bhaal-battle-beer-bard · 7 months ago

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Welcome to Saulus' new Waning Moon Distillery 🌙 Under New Management

My name is Saulus and I am the Dark Urge Tiefling (Vampire) Bhaal Battle Beer Bard Tav of @judasiskariot (aka MissZombieSlayer)

Together with my patreon and Mäzenin judasiskariot, I will write all the bardic inspiration stuff for you.

Be prepared for songs, dirty limericks, poetry, ballads, incorrect quotes and headcanons.

Masterlist

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Available in German and English (in mind that English is not my native language, please be merciful 🙏)

I am here for the art trade.

Take writing requests for some funny art trade.

You can commission me to write bard songs or poems about your favourite BG3 character or your Tav.

I don't say it is going to be good😆😅🙈 But I will always try my best and hope I create something that makes you smile and brings us joy to both of us 🙂🫶❤️

What I do:

- Funny roasting shenanigans tavern bard songs and dirty limericks

(About a specific person, topic or moment of your adventure)

- Sad or romantic ballads about your Tav, character, romance

- Poem about your Tav, companion or romance by choice

- Poem or letter written by a character for your Tav/You or romance partner by choice (I will try at least; I don't understand every companion in the same intense way)

- Tav perfume

What I don't do:

- I guess we will see when it really happens

- A specific wordcount I guess, it will be one or two Word document/my poetry book side long most of the time

BEFORE I start writing:

* Let me know if you want it in rhymes or not (or I will do as I please) and if it should include a specific topic, theme, incident

* Let me know if there is any character or topic you totally not want to be roasted/being made fun of in the funny bard songs

(I mean it is all fun and everyone should be able to laugh about themselves but is totally fine to say what you like and what you dislike)

* When it will include your Tav I will need a picture and information about their background and personality

Want to talk about BG3 (and more)? I love to talk! Message me here or on mainblog @judasiskariot

Jelayah, the Half-elf fighter

Saulus, the Tiefling bard (durge)

Devorah, the Drow bard (durge)

My fanfictions here:

AO3 + Animexx MissZombieSlayer

Want to know more about the Bhaal Battle Beer Bard?

I love art, poetry, vampires and being a slut.

Her name is Saulus. She is sassy little Dark Urge Tiefling Bhaal Battle Beer Bard, dreaming of a retirement with Astarion at Moonrise Towers with best friend Thisobald Thorm.

The Tiefling bard is banned from most gnome weddings and some cities in Faerûn 😂 There is some fun rivalry between her and Volo 😄

Her dream is to marry Astarion, start a family and settle down with him at Moonrise Towers to reopen the Waning Moon Distillery.

(The party, "Opa" Ketheric, bhaal cult and the undead horde are babysitters)

She uses two hand crossbows, wanted to be an evil bhaal babe, but ended up doing all the right things 😄 The Urge is still strong in her, so better not making here angry 😈

She is absolutely in love with Astarion and the owl bear cub (her son) and Thisobald is her best friend.

She is insecure about her Tiefling look, holding her tail when she is nervous. Saulus plays dirty funny limericks with the lute and mostly lyra but with two missing strings at the moment💀(maybe she doesn't take criticism very well😅)

She likes gnomes but is banned from most gnome festivities because she confuses them with kids and is singing too many dirty limericks (at children's birthday parties thinking it is a wedding; but also inappropriate for weddings though... 😅)

Saulus: "Let me tell you my bardic epos:

After all fires in Baldur's Gate are extinguished only one remains: Cazador's palace. I burn it down, so Astarion is getting his head clear and get over his Ascension Master God Complex. And because the handymen failed to build a palace door in owlbear size for our son the owlbear cup. In consequence of I won the drinking competition against my bff Thisobald Thorm I inherited (more or less official and legal) the propery deed of The Waning Moon.

Ketheric is still alive and our grandpa Ketheric now.

I marry Astarion, start a family and settle down with him at Moonrise Towers to reopen the Waning Moon Distillery.

And when Opa Ketheric is holding the little half Elf Tiefling Vampire baby for the first time, you can see how the light and will to live is coming back into his eyes.

I am the bard at the bar, barkeeper and my own best customer.

The party, "Opa" Ketheric, the bhaal cult and the undead ghoul horde of vampirelord Astarion are the babysitters. (Everyone wants to look after the baby but the party is failing miserable and Dammon is giving them babysitter lessons because Karlach is also pregnant and is lending Dadstarion Clive til her baby is coming. Opa Ketheric is always babysitter of the month, but surprisingly closed followed by the ghoul and bhaal assassins. Father bhaal is not really welcome but Sceleritas of course!)

Needless to say we still have a vacation home at Baldur's Gate and coming back there with a little family.

When we are walking through the city, we do it in single file and every child (also the owlbear cub of course!) is holding the tail of the sibling in front, so no one is getting lost in the big city. One child do not have a tail, because it is more elfish than the rest, but he is wearing a costume tail to be part of it and he insists that Papa Astarion is also wearing a fake one, so that they are all similar.

Astarion and I always must pay reparations, because the owlbear cup grew to like rose pedals at the wedding and now it destroys the gardens at Baldur's Gate.

I perform dirty limericks and funny songs about our friends and adventures at the Elfsong Tavern. And especially by the order of Lord Gortash many songs about Dragons(born).

Yeah almost everyone is alive.

Astarion and the party are the bouncers so everyone must watch the whole concert. Yes Astarion supports everything his wife does! The stupider, the better. And because as the only one he is wearing earplugs.

pics by aristenfromwarsaw

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madbadash · 9 months ago

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🎵🎵🎵 Album tag game 🎵🎵🎵

rules: share the albums that you can listen to nonstop. those lightning in a bottle-albums that scratch ur brain just right. every single track, an absolute banger. u could not skip one if u tried. no notes. stunning, show-stopping, immaculate. ur no-skip albums.

🔎 bonus & optional (but imo, v fun) rules: 1) add a track rec for us to listen to! AND 2) share ur favorite line(s) from that track! 👀

Now lowkey I'm cheating here because I don't really listen to albums in full and I would probably would skip at max like one song on each of these albums but I wanna participate in the game so I make the rules.

ANYWAYS thank you @bluecoolr for the tag

I will Tag @probably-a-plant-thing @bobeatspie300 @thelemoncoffee @boxtyphoon @toborusk and a cover all if you wanna do it do it!! Also these are all very low no pressure tags.

Billie Ellish- When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We All Do?

Penelope Scott-Public Void

Mother Mother-Inside

Chonny Jash-The Will Wood Power Hour

Eliza Anastasic-The Grand Relics

Billie was my number one artist on Spotify for like 2 or 3 years in a row and she hasn't left my top 5 since I started listening to her. I fucking LOVE ilomilo

Lyrics: So, where did you go? I should know, but it's cold And I don't wanna be lonely So tell me you'll come home Even if it's just a lie

The fact I get all my music from Tiktok is showing ANYWAYS Penelope Scott has some bangin ass music. I actually associate this song with Steven, and if Bob is down and people are interested I can totally go into why.

Lyrics:You fuckers know it's all built on lies But the beast refuses to die And so I guess well neither can I

Mother Mother is the most basic gay people music but DO I CARE??? NOOOOO!!!!! I can and will add both Haylofts into Oc Playlists! Anyways this bitch got a funky rhythm and I like the way they sing. Also this is probably the album with the most skips but I make the rules I don't care I'mma put it anyways

Lyrics: I'm thinking, "Oh, my God, what a chatty creature" It just kept talking and talking and talking all around in a circle I said, "Hey, little guy, I think it's time to go now"

CHONNY I AM GONNA KISS YOU SO HARD OH MY GOD. YOU, ONE OF MY FAVORITE ARTISTS, COVERING WILL WOOD??? MY OTHER TOP ARTIST. I AM CRAZY AND DERANGED

Now I do think you should listen to both versions of Thermodynamic Lawyer but I really like the lyric changes Chonny does so do whatever you want.

Lyrics:He'll rationalize rhymes 'til the T's and the I's Are re-crossed and re-dotted to a blur Blacks out his eyes, hides the lines, flays his thighs 'Til the-, they think that "he" is their "her"

Ok ok now hear me out. Hear me out here I know it's fucking weird but listen to me. Hear me the fuck out.

This is a fan-Album based on the Podcast The Adventure Zone Balance. Everyone should listen to Balance. It's a funny DND podcast. It is earnest, and stupid and funny and it has made me cry and if you don't have 69 hours to throw to this podcast (with the first 6 episodes being a bit rough as it's their first time playing) I HIGHLY recommend listening to their Current Arc: Vs Dracula. They all know what they're doing and they're doing it hilariously

Rant over. These songs are based on 7 magical objects that are collected by our main characters. These songs also include some clips from the podcast. I'm gonna rec the first one because its the least spoiler-y.

Lyrics: I'm a weapon of mass destruction That can literally fit on your hand So what are you waiting for? I'm thralling as hard as I can Go ahead and put me on- Gloves do not have long attention spans!

#Spotify #tag game #my moots #blue😊#ash speaks!!!

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mysticsparklewings · 3 months ago

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Obscutober 2024 Day 13: Lunette 🌙

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Lunette (n.)

any of various objects or spaces of crescent-like or semicircular outline or section; the figure or shape of a crescent moon

(in the plane of a wall) an area enframed by an arch of vault

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Funny, one of few times I manage to get the artwork for the day posted before dark, it's the moon-adjacent mandala. 😂

Not that I'm complaining—The sooner I can get these posted in the day the better, and this is probably one of my new favorites, anyway!

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about my thoughts/process. ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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Once again we have proof that I do not make a habit of looking ahead on the prompt list like I maybe should. 😅

If anyone remembers: I specifically chose white lines for yesterday's mandala because I wanted to break from how much I've been using the black ones. While the mandala turned out fine—great, even!—had I looked ahead and noticed today's word first, I probably would've let bygones be bygones and stuck with black lines...Because here's a very good excuse for white lines right here!

So much so that you can see I went with the white lines anyway...and once again didn't even bother to check what's on the list for tomorrow, so we may be in for a string of white-line mandalas yet. 🫣

Nevertheless, this one is more of a mixed bag for me than I expected. Despite my failure to look ahead and see when it was coming up, I was pretty excited to get to this word. It's one of my favorites that made the list and very early on I got the idea of these 4-point crescent moons to base the rest of the mandala around, and the color scheme was one of the no-brainer ones: Night sky colors! Though I did push myself to shift the hues so it would be at least a little different from Day 1 and Day 10 (mostly Day 1, though).

So why is it a mixed bag, then? Mostly because once I got my 4 "focus" crescents down and some "foundation" borders, I was sort of at loss for how to fill the rest of the space. 😅

The natural choice of course was to use a lot of crescent shapes—And I tried to!—But the question was more of how to use them without it feeling...I guess forced? is the right word? Or, perhaps I mean without it feeling like the goal was to literally just get as many crescent shapes in there as possible with not real rhyme or reason to the design.

I wanted the design to still feel intentional and, y'know, designed.

Through that, I supposed in a sense I started taking inspiration from a little of all phases of the moon, not just the crescent shape. I didn't go out of my way to feature shapes that look like other phases, but I think that's why after a certain point I was in the mood to add so many plain white dots—They spoke to the full moon shining in my subconscious.

Also worth noting that I was able to start on this one before I went to bed, so for once it's not like I didn't have time to consider my choices and moves as I made them.

And I do really love how this came out as an art piece; My quibbles lie in wondering if this is really the best I could do with "crescent shape, like the moon" as my theme.

I suppose maybe it is since this what came out when I let my mind and pen wander and even as I was finishing it up and acknowledging my uncertainties, nothing better or ways to improve it was coming to mind. Even now, having had a little time away from it and more time to think, I can't say I've really thought of different outcomes I think I'd feel more sure of!

In any case, at least this one was ultimately more simple to pull together, so even if I'm not 100% confident in how well it sticks to the theme, I can at least identify that's what my problem is—Rather than thinking I might be unhappy with the outcome because it gave me a headache or something like that (as has happened before).

Let's see...I think I just want to make one last note that technically the definition for this word should have "[architecture]" at the beginning of the second bullet point. However, I left it out for the art piece because A. this definition was already one of the longer ones and therefore taking up more of my workable space/looking a bit cluttered, and B. based on the rest of what that bullet point says I feel the fact that it's referring to architectural use is pretty heavily implied.

And also technically I think there are a couple more "subset" definitions for this word, but these are the two that came up most often and most readily when I was putting the list together, so I opted to stop there.

Oh, and this one should be getting posted actually during daylight hours this time—I feel there's a bit of irony that the moon-adjacent word turns out that way, meanwhile a lot of the others are relegated to nighttime. 😅 But hey, I'm not complaining because the earlier I can get each one posted, the more time I have to do other things before I have to start on the next one!

That said, I think that's all I have for you today, Sparklers. So now you know what time it is for me—Cross-posting time! 🙃

See ya tomorrow! 👋

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See the Prompt List

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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crystalflygeo · 1 year ago

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Long overdue final ebg post (lmao) bc I need to get this out of my system...

Tag for all the posts/storyline

Art by the amazing lovely precious cutie Aine @/ainescribe

First of all I want to thank @i23kazu immensely for allowing me to participate pls I was SO unsure at first haha and she absolutely killed it with the interactions, the lil side project, the prompts, the scores tally... it's just so much work, kudos to you Ying fr!! It was a super fun game.

Shoutout to my besties/mutuals

@silentmoths @ainescribe thank you for your lil asks I love seeing your characters aaaaaaaa 💕

@floraldresvi @moraxsthrone and all the anons I got, your sabotages here and in discord were brutal omg Vi you almost made my cry //pos bc I wanted to react/respond to Li's messages 🥺 EVERY SINGLE TIME ghgnhgnghgn and NOT KEL MAKING MY GIRL HAVE A WET DREAM/SPICY MEMORY TYVM 💕 the way I had to contain myself hELP I loved it svcgavscgvsjgacbkackl

@meimeimeirin you also sabotaged me a lot, meanie //pos I loved SO MUCH your asks/little stories aaaaaa thank you for engaging so much when I know you're super busy 🥺 it def made my day everytime, ty for bringing the girl home and solving my silly lil mystery hehe 💕

@kurikurikurisu GIIIIIRL it's so funny to me that we kinda started interacting more on the last ebg for Rin and then I was like "she's a cool person I wanna fren.... 👉🏻👈🏻 but I shy...." took my sweet time to invite you to the server and turns out THIS ebg got us closer (I think? ehe?//hit) we didn't interact much in tumblr with each other's plots but bOY were we emotional support in discord, we really were in this suffering together 🤝🏻 mhm //nods nods 🤣 thank you so much for being interested in my lil silly plot and my girl aaaaaa

As for the "plot" and other things... (this got so long I am so sorryy;;;)

Well at first I wanted to do kinda a normal ebg, no plot or anything bc I don't think I have the smarts to do an elaborate game/story lmao and I kinda wanted to have more established s/i lore?? And then I realized hey I can use the ebg to introduce my s/i!!!

See I'd been working SO hard on her names lately, researching and studying in-game adepti lore and stuff and I though why don't I make it a simple game where the goal is to guess her name (with me giving hints ofc) and at the very start I had the idea of her losing her memories so she could re-discover/remember things about herself alongside the "players" learning them. Whoever character I got as my bias would help her and get to know her too along the way, even npcs (or in the rare case of me getting Dottore/Pantalone, probs be the villain for her memory loss lmao)

And then I got Kazuha. And it was so SO perfect. I took inspiration from Spirited Away with the plot point of having your name/memories/identity stolen and for some reason I remembered the whole Ino-shika-cho koi-koi card combo from Summer Wars I just had this vivid mental image of a scene where Kazuha dropped the biggest hint by writing the Kanji for Butterfly (Chō) which doubles ofc as the Hanzi for Butterfly/Crystalfly (Dié) written the same pronounced (and romanized) differently :3c

I was very proud of myself//hit also

I did not end up making haiku bc they are complicated but I at least tried to loosely keep/emulate the 3 phrases, phonetic rhyme and sensory elements while referencing my lil plot lmao

✧˖Originally I was gonna blame it on a playful tanuki or smth but I don't think they're powerful enough youkai lmao it was probably a kitsune.... we may never know ✧˖She was technically never in any danger yeah but imagine being lost with no memories and no way to know if you could get them back even because every person she met kept telling her they didn't know ofc she'd break down, or at least me, I'm very crybaby and neurotic sometimes//HIT ✧˖Yes this entire thing was technically Zhongli's fault since he did write her a letter addressed 亲爱的晶蝶 ("My dear Crystalfly/Jingdie") and that IS her name woops on a random note I kinda imagine he also signs with something like 你的龙 "Your Dragon" and vice versa with Crys ("My dear Dragon/your Crystalfly") sgcvgajsvcjhacbajkca //squeals kicks feets

And all this started because I was stressing over the fact that "Crys" is not an appropriate name for a Liyue character lmao, I debated for so long giving her a chinese name, but I didn't want to further make her an OC I wanted her to represent me/my blog (also part of me was and still is immensely worried I somehow insult cn ppl by being as some sort of weeabo equivalent or that I am "appropriating culture" or idk I may be dumb but I try to do my research and I prommy it does not come from a place of malice or anything I genuinely love genshin and Li and it's got me interested in a culture/country I funnily enough have somehow interacted with and have friends in but never really paid that much attention to ig...) and then I just had the epiphany What if I just reverse engineer and name her Crystalfly in cn? Lore would be that either her name got accidentally translated in documents a long long time ago and ppl started calling ehr Crystalfly/Crys and she rolled with it or she simply adopted the translation/nickname as her name for international settings, keeping her true name more private (hidden in plain sight tbh) p sure the only ones who know are the elder adepti (Ganyu/Xiao included) and Neuvillette (once he told her his real/first name) (ironically Crys may be harder to pronounce i other languages lmaoooo rip Fontaine)

Anyway this got way too long lmao sorrryyyyyyyy thank you everyone kith kith love y'all bye!! 💕

#crys plays ebg #final post aaaaaa this was all so satisfyinga nd fun and such a roller coaster dshvhsjdbvhsbvks #crys lore #new tag aaayyyy//HIT #I will spam more in the future but not too much I prommy #I gotta go back to writing soon I'm itching hhhhhhh #ty everyone ilu all <3 #crys yaps

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aplaceinthedark · 1 year ago

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chapter five: GETTING OUT is not ENOUGH

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch, and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, ptsd, large canines, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, blood

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously, I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.

I took in a slow, quiet breath, trying to will my hands to still as to not show the fear that was creeping up my spine one vertebrae at a time. “Was he found?” I asked, even though I had a feeling I already knew the answer. My voice shook no matter how hard I fought to contain it.

Steeling myself for her answer did nothing when it came. “No, dearie. It's been several years since he vanished into the woods. Even Nicholas has moved on.”

Probably because he knows the man is alive, I wanted to say. “But… if they never found a body… maybe he just moved away?”

Granny gave me a funny look. “Are you okay, dearie? You look like you've seen a ghost. “

I think I have. I handed her back the news article. “When does Nick come home again?”

I was done.

On my way back to my house - what used to be Noah’s house, I had learned - I tried calling Nick. When he didn’t answer, even though I knew he was with a client, I sent him a snap I had taken of the news article on Noah’s disappearance. Let him open it on his own time; I was going to get answers whether I had his help or not.

I wasn’t going to wait for Noah to come over; I was going to look for him.

I barely stopped in the house. I threw my bag onto the couch, not caring when the papers spilled out and made a mess. I then changed into some cargo pants and boots, and grabbed a water bottle and granola bars.

My eyes happened to land on an apple. Despite being angry, I grabbed one and put it on the plate outside. I looked up and waited, like it would summon the Watcher instantly - because I had no doubts in my mind that it was the Watcher I was making the offerings to.

But of course, the woods remained silent, or as silent as they could be at four in the afternoon. Then the offering would have to be for good luck, because I guess I was going to have to find Noah the old-fashioned way.

I looked up at the sky. I had maybe a couple of hours of true daylight, at least, but I wasn't going to let this stupid town's fairy tales spook me into what I could and could not do.

That's probably what Noah said before disappearing.

I groaned internally. I did not need to scare myself into abandoning this mission.

As I was about to take my first step into the woods, my phone rang. I flinched at the sound. Lighting up the screen was the picture of Nick flipping off my security camera that I had pulled from our test run. I hit ignore, but a few seconds later, he tried again. This time I just put my phone on silent.

No distractions. Time to go in.

And wouldn't you know it, nothing exploded as I took my first step into the woods. I let out a breath that I begrudgingly admitted to holding in. And then I walked in the direction that Noah had said his house - not my house - was in.

After a few minutes of walking, I realized Nick must've stopped calling, but when I checked my phone it said that I had lost service. That couldn’t be right; the house was just behind me—

No. No it wasn't. In fact, I couldn't even see my house anymore. Like I had walked for hours and not a few minutes. I didn’t even recognize the trees I had just passed.

Dread settled into my stomach, but I kept going, ignoring the rhyme that was repeating in my head; one that I had read in the library:

But if you venture far from home / If deep into the woods you roam / You’ll see what seems a moving tree / Coming toward you: that is He.

“Get a grip, Taylor,” I muttered to myself. I wasn't going to see the Watcher.

I wasn't going to get lost.

“Shit! Shit shit this shit—“ Nicholas cursed to himself as he repeatedly hit his steering wheel.

Taylor wasnt picking up their phone. He had been with a client when they initially called, and he hadn't looked at his phone until the shop was closed. And then he got the snap that made his blood freeze.

He hadn’t seen that article in years. He thought he had thrown it away, actually. Once Noah had come back, he hadn't needed the reminder of one of the darkest times of his life. Granny must’ve saved it, or had a copy of her own, or… whatever. That didn't matter.

Now here it was, biting him in the ass.

A part of him wanted to blame Noah. If he had just waited, and not “introduced himself” - Noah's words, not his, and definitely not Taylor's - he could've avoided this. But here he was, speeding back to New Hope a day early, trying to figure out how best to tell Taylor the truth.

Two hours later, he was jumping out of his car into Taylor's driveway. Their car was in the driveway, but none of the lights in the house were on. The automatic light came on when he stepped onto the porch; hopefully they could see he was there, surely. He then saw an apple was placed on the plate. They couldn't have gone to bed already, could they? It was only just past six.

He pounded on the front door, calling their name, but there was no answer. Nothing stirred past the window curtains. Against his better judgment, he tried the doorknob, and with a lurch of his stomach discovered it unlocked. He slowly opened the door, calling out again. Still nothing.

And with that, a horrible thought came to his head. What if they went into the woods?

Nicholas whipped around, staring into the treeline. That was the one rule he was fine with breaking; nothing out there scared him. Not until now. Especially now.

"NOAH!" he yelled out into the green.

Normally it took Noah a bit to appear, but with the fear in Nicholas' scream, he practically materialized out of the woods before the last echo of his name faded away. "What?" he asked, his angular brows creased in confusion.

Nicholas breathed out heavily. "We've got a big problem," he said, "and an even bigger hell to explain it."

I was irrevocably and utterly lost.

What I had thought was only fifteen minutes ago, I had given up and turned around, thinking I'd be back home before the sun sank way below the treeline. When I looked at my phone, I saw that those fifteen minutes had somehow become over an hour, and I was still nowhere near my home.

Worst of all, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

The sounds of my boots stepping on pine needles and rocks seemed deafening in my ears. My phone's flashlight barely seemed to penetrate the darkness, but it at least gave me the ability to see where my feet were stepping. It was practically all that my phone was good for, since I hadn't found a signal ever since I stepped foot in these stupid woods.

I cursed myself for the millionth time. Stupid woods, stupid Nick, stupid boots, stupid Noah even though I've only known him for half an hour and he might not even be Noah, if Noah's dead. Oh, and stupid me for thinking this was... well, I knew it wasn't a good idea, but–

Halfway through a step, I heard leaves crunch behind me, like I had finished my step but I hadn't. I froze, a sudden chill descending over me. I could feel the eyes watching me grow stronger. My heart was pounding so bad I thought that whatever was stalking me could hear it. It had to, because I could hear it coming closer. With my heart in my throat, I turned around.

As my eyes locked with what was coming towards me slowly, my body cut all communication. No matter how much my mind screamed at me to run, my legs wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't breathe.

The only way my mind could describe it was it had to be a wolf. It was still too large to be a regular wolf, but it was way too big to be a dog or coyote. It also looked too feral. Its body was thick with muscle, its broad body covered in a light fur that shined silver in the small light from my phone. When its eyes passed over me, I caught a glimpse of a mix of dirt brown and grass green. They looked almost... human.

And those eyes were focused on me.

My knees finally gave out, and I collapsed to the ground. The spell broken, I tried to scramble backwards and get up at the same time, but I just fell onto my back everytime. The creature was faster, and soon it was towering over me. I squeezed my eyes shut as it leaned close, snarling. I could feel it's hot breath wash over me. A whimper clawed its way out of my throat.

Please... I didn't survive that accident just to get mauled to death by this creature.

Suddenly, there was a loud roar from behind me, and I heard the sound of trees being snapped. Then something leapt into the air, colliding with the creature on top of me. The void of bitter cold it left in its wake when the creature's hot and sticky breath vanished made me scream. I opened my eyes just as I heard the loud sound of bigger bodies hitting the ground.

Bodies. Plural.

My mind reeled. The wolf-creature lay on its back several yards away, but it got up quickly and shook off the debris it had collected in its wake. And standing between us–

I almost collapsed again.

The new creature had its back to me, but that didn't stop my fears. If the wolf was big, then this creature absolutely towered over me. Its movements were quick, jerking, and its joints sounded like bark being peeled from a tree. It was humanoid in shape, its broad torso covered in whorls and symbols that made my brain hurt to look at. But my eyes were quickly drawn upwards, towards the thick, branch-like antlers protruding from beneath that thick mess of long hair.

The Watcher of the Woods.

It let out a roar that sounded like it could've been words, but it was in a way that I couldn't even think of understanding. It made my head hurt just hearing them. Judging by the sound that came from the other creature, it hurt it too. But then it began backing away.

The Watcher had commanded it to leave. And it understood.

After the wolf creature disappeared, its tail proverbially tucked between its legs, the Watcher turned and faced me. It was at that moment I turned and bolted, but didn't get very far when I heard a voice in my head.

WAIT.

I stopped, freezing at the familiar voice. It wasn’t full of the arrogance that I had heard, which nearly threw me off. I also didn’t expect to see a human hand come down on my shoulder and spin me around.

“Are you okay?” Noah asked. Gone was the Watcher, but he was shirtless, showing off every inch of his skin that, from his neck to his hips, shoulders to fingers, was covered in tattoos.

I backed away, Noah letting me go easily. “What… what are you?” I asked, fear soaking my every word.

“I… It’s better if we go back to your place. It’s not safe here—“

“No fucking shit! I just got attacked by some… wolf, and… and you were some… tree thing a-and… you’ve been missing for seven years—“

“Taylor—“

“No! I’m leaving, going back to my house, and going back to fucking sleep, because obviously I’m having a nightmare!” I yelled at him, turning away.

I felt his hand grab me again, and I swung. My just connected with his cheek, and with a loud curse that didn’t cover the sound of twigs snapping, he let me go. I then bolted.

Despite my feet probably bleeding with blisters, the adrenaline from the fight had them running as fast as I could go. I didn't even know which direction I was going, as long as it was away from him and his dog. I thought I could hear him behind me, but for all I knew, it was just my heart pounding in my ears. I just had to get away; get out of here—

My foot connected with something, pulling my leg out from underneath me. For a moment, I felt weightless as I soared to my downfall. It almost felt familiar. When my body connected with the cold, dark earth below, it almost felt like hitting pavement.

But I didn't stop there. I kept tumbling, skidding across the ground as I felt every rock embed into my skin. Until my head hit something hard, and I fell into dark oblivion.

Tysm for reading! Next chapter coming soon!

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #horror au #paranormal au #tag: non binary character #fic: lost in the labyrinth #series: lost in the labyrinth #cw: supernatural themes #cw: ptsd #cw: wolves #cw: bodily injury #cw: body horror #cw: graphic violence #cw: blood

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