#While Jekyll is having a hard time

[ludoka]

I recently listened to an audiobook of Alice in Wonderland.

Now I want a One-shot where Utterson and Jekyll are trapped in Wonderland because of an ugly mirror they gave Lanyon for his birthday.

Lanyon could join the adventure but it's fun to imagine Jekyll trying to explain to Hastie the madness they experienced in Wonderland.

[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 9- Dreams Are Lies

A/N: is that a new screenshot I see? And guess what? I MADE THAT SHIT lmao

You can’t really remember your life before the night you opened your eyes in that warehouse. The very first memories you can even vaguely recall was your mama, her beautiful face as she held you tightly in her arms.

You can barely remember voices of distinct people shouting at you, barely remember Ivy and her soothing presence, yet remember your mama so perfectly as if your brain refused to let go of her.

Your dreams allow you to see her, her blurry body yet perfect face. Those were the good nights, however, for your brain likes to torment you with dreams that are filled with screams that you can barely identify, blurred figures running past you, and the glowing eyes of Batman.

This dream tonight was different, yet common.

Nothing was around you. Endless void across miles and miles of what hog couldn’t figure out the location. You’ve been walking around for who knows how long, rubbing your arms in a soothing way.

You tend to hate these dreams, as you always end up meeting Them. The other you, they claim to be, the one who took control the moment you opened your eyes in the warehouse.

The Bee Beast.

“Took you long enough, you finally decide to talk instead of being a wuss and avoiding me?” You spoke up, seemingly talking to nothing, but you knew they were here, you always knew.

“They Hurt us… hurt you…” The echoing voice croaked out, and you quickly turned to stare up at… well, you. You weren’t sure if this was a Jekyll and Hyde situation, or that you’re the real version, being human and all, and this was some sort of parasite.

“Listen, ominous discombobulated voice of the Bee Beast. I don’t know who “they” is, but you gotta let me leave,” You were getting sick of these cryptic words they spewed out every time you confront them- yourself? You didn’t care.

“Can’t… safe here…” When you first heard them say those words, you were scared and alone, only hearing the voice similar to yours, yet it soothed you and calmed you down as your mind drifted into a slumber.

But now, it made you angry hearing them, as if they wanted you to be kept here forever, forced to sit in the back of your mind like a caged memory.

“Like hell this is safe! I’m trapped in this endless void forced to watch you take control! Let me out!” From a distance, you squinted your eyes to see them, the Bee Beast sitting down facing away from you.

“You’re the one trying to run away from these little memories we have because of what?! Fear of acknowledging that what you’re doing is insane?!” You scowled, walking towards them

“I’m… sorry…” Was all they said before you walked straight into a hard surface. You cursed as you began to feel what seemed to be an invisible barrier, causing your anger to spike up.

“FUCK!!” You slammed your fists, “It’s MY life too!! You can’t be a coward and keep me here!!” You kept on smashing your fists against the invisible barrier, watching the Bee Beast walk further away from you.

Tears of frustration welled in your eyes as the blinding light that indicated you were waking up appeared. You weren’t ready yet, you needed more time to try and interrogate them, demand why it was so important for them to take control.

Yet all was in vain.

“RRRAAAAAGGGGHHH!!”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

Your body jolted awake, gasping for air as you sat upright, your four limbs flailing. That damn dream was causing you more stress than when you’re awake. Clutching onto the bottle full of glowing pollen spend your neck as a way to comfort yourself, you took deep breaths while feeling around you.

Blankets, wooden bed frame, your legs, and your nightstand. You listed out the things you felt to have your brain know you were okay. You opened your eyes and adjusted your vision to see your room clearly. A humble room with glow in the dark stars in your ceiling thanks to Harley, little succulent plants from Ivy, and probably stolen jewels from Selina as housewarming gifts.

“Queen Bee?” Your doors slid apart and opened to show one of your worker bees, a former “street” worker named Angie who saved from an aggressive customer. She was gentle, someone who just tried to survive in the streets of Gotham.

“Sorry to wake you, but we welcomed more who seek shelter,” She gently said, her newly acquired antennas twitching with joy. You smiled and got up from your bed nest, towering over her.

“Excellent, give them… a dose of my honey to… welcome them,” You reassured her, making her smile in surprise hearing your speech improved greatly. Still hesitate to fully utter words, but you’re getting better.

“We got it boss!” One other worker poked out behind Angie, a kid who tried to rob your drones for jars of your honey, to which you offered a home in your hive. Angie glared at him before rolling her eyes and ruffling his hair.

“I’ll be out there to greet our new family,” You called to the two while they walked away, the doors closing. You ran your hands across your head, pushing down your antennas and made them bounce back as the sun beamed through your windows.

Your hive was expanding, drones and workers are growing, and your honey is actually selling big thanks to Penguin. Your beehive buzzed with content, little larvae of bees hatched and are growing strong with pollen collected from you.

What more could you ever want?

You knocked over a box that scattered across the ground when you turned to leave your room. You looked down to see tapes laid on the floor. The tapes that were collected inside this warehouse, now Hive. You kept them, a sense of familiarity seeing them.

You grabbed one, flipping it over to inspect the labels. They were all dated years back, titled “entry 12”, “important notes”, or “Failed experiments”. Yet one caught your eye, one that had you curious.

“For… (Name)…?” It had your name, or at least you believed it was your name. Ivy referred to you as (Name) before, but that was only one time, using the nickname Bumblebee ever since.

Nevertheless, you crouched under your bed and pulled out the very old tv you kept to collect dust underneath, plugging it in and injecting the tape into it. You were curious, maybe this will help your memories in finally making sense, and maybe you’ll see your mother again.

Static speaker across the screen when it began, before glitching to a figure in a lab coat. Your eyes widened and your thorax chattered when you witness your mother come into screen, sitting down in the camera with a tired smile.

She looked distant from your dreams. Older, content, yet still beautiful. She cleared her throat and awkwardly waved at the camera, to which you instinctively waved back slightly.

Seems like your old self is still there.

“Project: Honey is going to be big. It’s going to save hundreds of bees, plants, and animals. It’s my dream to have this breakthrough known across the globe,” Your mother spoke, lifting her finger to show a few bees crawling all over her hands, the Queen perched on her stretched out finger.

“But… it’s not just about fame. It’s about us, (Name),” You straightened yourself at the mention of your name, “It’s our family growing from nothing, becoming something when no one else had your back. It’s family,” Your mother had a small content smile, watching the bees crawling over her hands, buzzing and flapping their wings.

“(Name), my beautiful (Name), you’re going to be someone big in life. Someone who will lead people and protect them with your incredibly smart brain and passion,” She stared into the camera, “Don’t be consumed by my work that will overshadow who you truly are. My baby,” Setting the Queen bee down, your mother sat directly across the camera, wiping tears in her eyes.

“I love you, sweetie. Don’t ever forget that part of you that brings that bright smile,” And with that, the video clipped into static, the sounds of the tv filling your ears as you sat in silence. The room seemed to be smaller, making you feel ever so small, like a child again.

“Mama…” You whispered, letting tears flow down. The dreams of your mother now seemed to be lies with how much you forgot her features. Her hair, eyes, nose, all seemed to different in your dreams than her on these tapes.

You must watch all these tapes, to see more of her. But your frantic attempt to grab all the tapes were interrupted by your doors sliding open, your antennas twitching wildly from the sense of fear.

“Queen Bee!! Intruder!!” One of the younger drones, a 13 year old kid ran into your room in a frantic state, their beanie pushing their antennas down, yet the tingling of fear still vibrated that you felt the whole hive shake with agitation.

“Who is it?” You asked without stammers or pauses, standing up fully while feeling your throws chatter with fury. Who dared attempt to invade your home and torment your people?

“The Joker!!”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

Damien followed Duke when he snuck out with his Signal suit to patrol in a very specific area. Duke doesn’t patrol at night, either his powers being most useful in the daylight. Yet the boy wonder could read him like a book, he was stalking around that warehouse.

“Father wouldn’t appreciate you draining yourself like this, it’ll be a pain to deal with a mopey you more than a mopey Grayson,” Damien jumped and crouched right next to Duke, who said nothing to even acknowledge Damien.

“Some investor claimed it… took everything out of that place…” Duke gritted his teeth seeing construction men finishing up their late night shift in fixing the outside of the warehouse, “We should’ve brought those tapes with us… their mother’s memories would still…” Damien followed Duke’s gaze down at the building.

Some real estate investors took property of the warehouse the family, making good out of the horrid memories that held from that place. To them, it was a nightmare seeing your corpse… yet to you, it was an escape.

Duke pleaded to Bruce they should save whatever was left in that warehouse for you, but their father was still grieving to do anything but wander aimlessly in the Manor. Even Damien had to admit, he was stupid to not even grab whatever seemed important to you.

Yet he was already stupid enough to never see you as his sibling.

“What we have done to our late sibling… we cannot erase,” He whispered, “Some of us more at fault than others…” His heart aches each day when he wakes up from memories of him tormenting you, scaring you a way with his swords, sending Titus to chase you, his demeaning words about your mother…

“Those hours of spending time with them, even if it was just a few hours, felt like I knew them forever,” The youngest looked up at Duke, who was wiping his tears from under his helmet. Damien felt his throat tighten, looking away and stared at the seemingly empty warehouse.

“…What were they like for those hours…?” He shouldn’t feel shame in asking, yet it felt like he wasn’t worthy of even asking about who you were. His voice wobbled ever so slightly, making Duke let out a quiet sigh.

“Clumsy,” Duke chuckled, “(Name) always seemed like they had two left feet, got worse when they got excited. They also have this… bright smile that lit up the room, a lopsided and crooked one yet I wish to see them again,” He mumbled, the look in his eyes making it seemed like he was raised to the hip next to you.

Damien listened in silence while Duke passionately talked about you, as if he knew you so well from the little time he spent with you. He wanted that feeling, the feeling that he would know you like the back of his hand, the feeling of even thinking about you was a cherish thing to experience.

The League of Assassins taught him that showing vulnerability, showing empathy and trust was a weakness. Yet here he was, imagining that your hugs would be like, your excited rambled about bees, what you would’ve done for your family if they did the same for you.

Weakness was all Damien needed if it meant having you back with them again. He wanted his older sibling to hold him while he cried in their arms while apologizing over and over.

Maybe you would’ve forgave him then.

“All Robins, return to the Batcave. We finally broke through H.I.V.E, all patrolling fall in,” The sudden static noise from the comms of Batman’s voice snapped Damien out of his thoughts. He responding his usually stern way, but Duke didn’t respond.

“We have to follow father’s orders, there must be important information for us about (Name),” Damien urged, for once feeling hope that he’ll finally get to know you, even if you’re gone, your memories will live on.

“But-…” Duke didn’t want leave, his eye catching a slight glow from the inside. Damien gave him a look, one of genuine sympathy and sternness, causing the meta human to hesitate. With one last glance, the two heroes disappeared into the rooftops of Gotham.

Buzzzzz

They failed to see the truck filled with clown goons and a certain green haired clown driving towards The Hive.

A/N: Okay so some things are confusing, so I’ll give you a little rundown. Kinda hard to explain but you’re both the same person, but two versions?

Basically Human Reader and “Bee Reader” are somewhat similar to Bruce Banner and Hulk. Both fighting for control and able to talk to one another when dreaming. Yet you aren’t aware that those dreams are real and you are actually talking to your other half, only believing that those are simply just dreams.

Both of you don’t remember anything except your mother from your past, but you will remember everything… eventually.

I also took inspiration of that one Spider-Man comic where Peter “died” and from his body came out a giant spider-like beast, who eventually died too and Human Peter crawled out of the body all alive and okay.

So take that as you will-

And finally, Cobblepot pulled a few strings and staged a whole signing of him buying out the warehouse with a fake name so no one would suspect anything out of the ordinary while you could keep doing your honey business.

Anyways, hope that gives you context, if not I’m sorry 😭

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven @danart501 @esposadomd @trashlanternfish360 @esposadomd

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) The Hexcore was already controlling Viktor in S1

As a follow-up to my post about how the Hexcore's control over Viktor in S2 is probably best compared to the One Ring from Lord of the Rings, in that it magically amplifies desires but to what extent its manipulations could be confused with free will is very hard to determine, I wanted to offer this piece of comparison to Lord of the Rings as further evidence that Viktor is under some level of control from the Hexcore as early as S1.

I was fortunate enough to take a course on Tolkien's works in college and there's one point our professor made that stuck with me. He pointed out that Frodo was always doomed to fail at casting the One Ring into Mt. Doom because he was already unable to do so back at Bag End, before he'd even spent significant time with the Ring.

It's less apparent in the show than in the book, so here's the quote,

"To Frodo's astonishment and distress the wizard threw it suddenly into the middle of a glowing corner of the fire. Frodo gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back."

Though his time with the Ring has only barely just begun, already Frodo is distressed at the thought of harm coming to the Ring and is trying to save it, before he even stepped out his door. How then was he ever supposed to throw it into the fire of Mt. Doom after having spent months in close proximity to it?

Well, this moment reminds me rather strikingly of this one:

This is only S1, the corruption of the Hexcore has only spread to Viktor's hands and leg, but it has also just killed Sky right in front of Viktor. He has been weeping on the ground, mourning her when he then resolves to destroy it and rises up, brandishing the stool.

Unlike Frodo, who had no idea what the Ring was at that point and still was distressed by the idea of harm coming to it, Viktor just saw the Hexcore kill someone right in front of him. And yet, like Frodo, he can't bring himself to harm it.

The Hexcore then actually physically shies away from the stool, which is where I get the notion at least that it is sentient, and then because Viktor had the audacity to raise a hand to it and fail to follow through, it knocks him out like a light:

This is why Viktor has to beg Jayce to destroy the Hexcore, and even there he can barely get the words out, and he only makes this request while far away from the lab and the Hexcore.

I would argue that the reason he doesn't explain more to Jayce there is because he might even be unable to, even asking that much might have been a strain. Or, I'll admit, perhaps there's any number of human reasons he didn't, like shame and fear.

Shame and fear that is of course gone by the time the Hexcore has consumed him when he finally tells Jayce what happened to Sky.

I would argue that the look of hopelessness and disappointment on Viktor's face when he decides to leave Jayce isn't because of the weapons blueprints he might have spotted on the lab table. Or at least, it's not only that.

Personally, I see that as Viktor knowing that he was now so physically consumed by the Hexcore he had no hope at all of fighting it anymore. To quote Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, "I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil..."

So when people ask why Viktor is suddenly going along with everything the Hexcore wants, when before he wanted to destroy it, I would argue this: because it was already infecting him in S1 and in S1 he realized this and begged Jayce to destroy it because he knew it could stop him from doing so already. But because he was unwilling, or unable, to tell Jayce more about why he wanted it destroyed, Jayce instead defied his very strange request and used it to save Viktor's life as they had originally planned.

From that point on, I would argue, Viktor is under the thrall of the Hexcore and is carrying out its virus-like desire to spread itself and grow. I mean, just look at him, it now has consumed nearly every part of his body except his face. By the end, it has taken that from him as well.

Viktor might still have his own intelligence on top of it, but how much is very much the topic of ongoing debate. For the man to say that there is always a choice to suddenly say that there is no choice, the man who tried to destroy the Hexcore now freely spreading its power, and who once lashed out at the very notion of the use of Hextech as weapons making his own army of apex Hextech robots and using the Hexclaw against Jayce, and who looks so horrified at what he has done once the Hexcore's shell has been broken off of him by Ekko's bomb and Jayce's revelations, I would argue that we should assume at least some level of control was overpowering Viktor for much of S2, and that is exactly the fate he was trying to avoid in S1.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Monster high Freaky Fusion except the fusion machine was created by Jackson. He’s sick and tired of people bullying and looking down on him for being part normie.

Holt belongs here, but Jackson never will. He can’t go to the normie world because it’ll put Holt in danger. So he’s decided to do himself and Holt a favour in separating them both.

Much like his great grandfather, Henry Jekyll tried long ago. It’s his research Jackson’s using and while Holt is supportive, imagining all the parties he can throw and fun he can have.

He’s not as jazzed about this as Jackson is.

“You’ll finally be without me, free to do whatever you want. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“Yeah but…it didn’t go so well for gramps did it?”

Unfortunately Manny decided to ruin Jackson’s hard work causing the machine to malfunction and misfire.

Turning several monster high students into hybrids. Jackson and Holt teach them how to cope with their new situation, and in doing so become closer.

Everyone sees what life is like for Jackson and realises how poorly they’ve been treating for him.

Jackson learns from his great grandfathers mistakes, embraces his mixed heritage and finally gets the love he deserves.

They throw a party, one with Jackson friendly music so he can join in this time. It was Holt and Heaths idea.

[suzukiblu]

Day sixteen of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

And it’s–nice, to get to feel that for a little while, so Kon just . . . feels that, for a little while. Tim feeds him a little more fruit and pets him a few more times too, and it’s . . . really, really nice. But then it starts feeling like he should be doing something for this, if Tim’s focusing on just him for once–like, keeping his attention, keeping him entertained, making him not regret spending all that time on him instead of anything more important and just earning–

“The chef sends his compliments,” Bernard announces easily as he steps back into the room and Tim looks towards him, and Kon feels the weirdest sensation of, like . . . relief, almost, and his head quiets down a little more again, and doesn’t feel so . . . full, again. Just–if Bernard’s back, he doesn’t have to try so hard to like . . . to be all those things all at once, maybe. Doesn’t need to be all those things all at once. 

“Is that a latte?” Tim asks, sounding a little surprised. 

“Okay, fine, the barista sends his compliments, geez,” Bernard huffs, making a face at him. He’s holding two mugs, one a big chunky red one that’s almost the size of a soup bowl and the other bright blue and almost, like, cube-shaped and covered in all these weird-looking linked and interlinked circles and lines and stuff, kinda? Kon doesn’t actually know what they’re supposed to be, but he guesses maybe it’s just an aesthetic thing? 

More importantly, that’s the one that’s topped with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle, so like . . . priorities, obviously. 

“Um–that blue one for me, man?” he asks, feeling a little awkward about asking, but . . . look, sue him: it smells real fuckin’ good. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t resist, sorry,” Bernard says, setting both of the mugs on the nightstand next to the mostly-empty breakfast dishes. “Very on the nose, I know, but give a man his vices.” 

“Uh . . . ‘on the nose’?” Kon asks, wrinkling his own in confusion. 

“. . . hey Tim totally random question, how much British television am I allowed to bully your boy into watching this weekend?” Bernard asks conversationally. “Like we can go doggy style for a few rounds, right? Very on-brand anyway, considering, and then we can multitask it and also I can explain the continuity errors and why if I ever meet Steven Moffat it is on sight.” 

“I dunno, I really liked that Jekyll show,” Tim says, eyeing the mug with the alleged latte with clear intent. 

“Obviously, Tim, that show was incredible, but also that show limited the man to six episodes and he could not write a full season of television to save the BBC or Matt Smith’s career,” Bernard says feelingly, then reaches over and sort of–scruffs Kon’s hair more than anything else, really, and Kon’s spine goes a little bit liquid over it. “Actually, wait, maybe ‘last of his kind except for that one dude who wants to kill him’ super-powerful alien guy is, like, too on the nose, maybe that would not actually be fun and enjoyable escapism for you, hm.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kon admits as he pushes himself up a bit, because he really does not, yeah, but also he really wants to know what that hot chocolate tastes like. Bernard very visibly just suffers. 

“I’m talking about the Doctor, man, c’mon,” he says feelingly. 

“Doctor who?” Kon asks in bemusement. 

“. . . congratulations on being the funniest motherfucker on this boat without even trying, I will never beat that one,” Bernard sighs as Tim bursts into laughter. Kon very much does not get the joke, but like . . . there’s hot chocolate on that nightstand, so really, bigger priorities in life right now, and he eyes the mug consideringly. “Let it cool off for a minute, bud, otherwise you’re gonna burn your tastebuds off and won’t even be able to taste it, and that would be a tragic loss on your end, trust me.” 

“. . . so who’s being the funniest one on the boat again?” Kon asks wryly, raising a pointed eyebrow at him. Bernard stares blankly at him for a moment, then–

“Ohhhhh,” he realizes, then laughs sheepishly as he picks the mug up himself and holds it out to him. “Yeah, have at it, big guy.”

[ibrithir-was-here]

Once there was a fantastic concept, to bring together multiple works of Victorian literature into an epic crossover adventure, and it completely fumbled the ball in terms of characterization or really paying any attention to the source material.

And that happened twice.

Once with "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" and again with a trilogy of YA books called "The Extraordinary Adventures of the Athena Club"

One first has already been corrected above and beyond by the excellent @lxgentlefolkcomic

The second, well I got three other comics I need to finish plus a book to write, but here is my humble offering of a springboard. A concept bible if you will

The year is 1892. Noted doctor Robert Matheson has suddenly died, and a young woman training to become the rare Victorian female doctor is given the chance to take up one of his more peculiar cases...

Emlyn Sherringford Verner, training to become a doctor at the London School of Medicine for Women, breadwinner for herself and her sister-in-law Clara Verner ever since the death of her husband Fredrick last year, and yes, cousin of Sherlock Holmes.

Not that the relationship helps her much now, as he fell off a waterfall in Switzerland last year.

Last year was a very bad one for Emlyn Verner.

But now she has a chance to prove herself. One of Dr. Matheson's erstwhile patients is a young girl plauged by odd fits of mania, and Emlyn is determined to do what she can to help the child.

That she finds herself having to protect young Lyssa from mysterious kidnappers who may be part of a ancient cult is just an addendum.

I changed her up from having any personal connection to Dr Jekyll like her Athena counterpart did, as having her be Jekyll's daughter 1. Is completely against his character, and 2. Really brought nothing to the story. And by gum if her greater connection is to Holmes its gonna be familial and not at all romantic :p And since Holmes canonically has a relative named Verner who buys out Dr Watson's practice with Holmes's help, that fit perfectly. And yeah I gave her a unique E name to play into the amusing coincidence of the two best known female relatives given to Holmes having unique E names (Enola and Eurus)

The last year has been equally hard on young Clara Verner. Already an orphan, when her beloved brother died she was forced to leave school and move to England with her new sister-in-law.

Still in mourning and struggling to find her place, Clara takes solace in studying what she can about the mechanical advancements being made in this modern age.

A past time that leads her into making a like-minded friend, a Fraulein Coppel, who has also just moved to England from the German Empire.

A new friendship may be just what she needs to distract her from her grief--and the odd looming presence she keeps feeling is watching her from the shadows.

Surely all the bad luck that has plauged her line back to the Frankenstein family must run out at some point...

So, for a while, I thought I would actually keep the" Justine reanimated as the Bride, but she survives" concept from The Athena Club. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt just kinda icky about it. Like, the poor woman has been through enough due to Victor, and she gets to be left in peace. And since Ernest was left alive, it's totally plausible he'd have descendedants who could become rolled up into the family's dark past later on down the line. If I do keep the Creature alive in this he's also not going to he obsessed with making her his Bride, like in the Athena books. He'had 100+ years to feel remorse/ get some growth. So if anything he'll actually be trying to protect the last of the Frankensteins from the true threats out there.

Lyssa is for the most part like any eight and a half year old girl. She likes to read and roughhouse and sometimes play with dolls and sometimes climb trees.

And yes she may be an orphan but she's at least been lucky enough to end up in a kind orphange. Things would be fine overall--if it weren't for her fits, where she feels like something Bigger and Older then she is keeps trying to break out of her.

And if it weren't for the strange, Wrong feeling people who keep trying to take Lyssa with them. She's managed to avoid being adopted by them so far, but now they seemed determined to take her by any means necessary.

Lyssa thinks they might have done something bad to Dr. Matheson, and she hopes that Dr. Verner won't meet the same fate trying to help her...

It makes sense that Hyde could possibly produce an illegitimate daughter, but I didn't like that the Athena counterpart was like, 100% sassy rude gremlin child all the time, and that's what made her Hyde's kid? Like, that's not really how the potion works? So my thought here with Lyssa is that, yeah she's kinda sassy but that just because of her, and she can also be sweet and kind and rude and selfish just like all little kids are. But, whatever Jekyll did to make that potion, how it affects his offspring is that every once and a while she has these intense, literally Manic fits, where its almost a cthonic Pythoness experience, and she's Seeing into something vaster. Really bring some Alchemy themes into Jekyll's Alchemical like work. He ripped himself apart, and its rippling down into trying to make his daughter a Doorway. Also, at the end of this all I want her to get taken in by Utterson as his god-daughter/ward)

Olimpia Coppel has an old soul. And she isn't meant to have one at all.

About 100 years ago, her Papa Spalanzani made her out of gears and wires and Other Things, with the help of the occult doctor Coppelius--who then soon after kidnapped her.

Of course, Olimpia wasn't much more then a doll then, barely able to speak and only able to move as her clockwork directed. But Coppelius worked on her over the years, until she could move and speak as well as any flesh and blood person--and she could think and feel as well.

But she doesn't let Coppelius and his associates know that. She doesn't know what he'd do to her if he ever found out.

So she plays the parts The Society of the Seekers of Enlightenment asks her to, biding her time, looking for a chance to break free. Her current assignment is to act as Handler-er, Companion, to the Society's newest asset.

But surely there can be some moments spared for a new friend, the first she's ever had...

So in the Athena books, Olimpia'a counterpart was Beatrice Rappaccini from "Rappacinni's Daughter"-- a work that takes place two centuries before Frankenstein does. And the mad science done on her doesn't make her immortal (as evidenced by her dying in the story), just immune to posions/poisonous to the touch. All I could think of the whole time reading her parts was "How are you here??" But you know who could last a hundred years and is also a girl linked to a very likely immortal mad scientist? Our oft forgotten and misnamed robot girl Olimpia, that's who. So that's why I replaced her xD

Three years ago, before she knew what years were, she was captured and taken to the Place of Pain. She was cut and broken and had Things done to her head, things the Cruel Man said that he had done no other Being before her.

The Things Done to her Head helped her to escape, and she killed the Cruel Man. She almost died as well. The Beings around her thought she had. But the Things Done to her Head helped her fool them.

She lived far away from the other Beings and the Other Man on the Island. She watched as the Beings returned to what they were Before. She watched as the Other Man left the Island.

She stayed. And the Things Done to her Head did not go away, but continued to Grow.

One year ago, The New Man came to the Island, looking to Hunt the beasts the Other Man had spoken of. He found her instead. He brought her back to the New Island with him, and the Woman with the Soft Hands changed her shape once more. Not back to what it had been, but she soothed the Pain, and she taught her how to form the Things Done to her Head into Speaking, and the Wearing of Clothes and Wigs.

The Woman with Soft Hands gave her a name "Blanche. Like the little cat in the fairytale that became a princess."

She is not sure what they want of her. She is Hunting for them, she knows that. There is no Whip here. No Room of Pain. But still, the more the Things Done to her Head grow, the more she isn't sure that she hasn't traded one Island cage for another...

So, in the Athena books, Blanche's counterpart is a black panther, which is not what a puma is. Also she is POC coded in the Athena books which I get is to try and get more then just white girls and that's good, but I felt weird having the one POC coded character in the story also be an animal? So I just reverted to what color a shaved puma would be. This led to a very 😳😬😳 moment when, having got nothing but the shoes using "Puma," I attempted to Google "shaved cougar"...do not do that. Anyway, I will attempt to get more diversity in here in any further updates. But yeah Madame Sara is a more obscure character who also appeared in The Strand Magazine. She is a "professional beautifier" who may or may not be using arcane arts and is definitely probably poisoning people.

[tales-of-darkmoor]

The Night Shift

It was distant adoration and sheer happenstance that led you to each other. Now, with your curiosity piqued, you don’t think you could shake this strange little man if you tried.

Ygor X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

1.6k Words

Warnings: Graverobbing, dismemberment, injury description, insecurity, first dates, flirting, alcohol, maybe stalking if you squint?

An: I noticed a lack of Darkmoor fics on tumblr, so I thought I’d contribute the first (of many efforts) to remedy this! I write for all of the characters in Dark Universe, so feel free to drop a request if there’s something you’d like to see! :)

In the business of grave robbing, real, flesh and blood women can be hard to come by. That's what made this encounter so remarkable.

Chiefly, you’d taken a job gathering wild herbs for this eccentric apothecer in town- and the most peculiar thing! You’d never heard of the medicinal uses of foxglove or black bryony, yet that mulish Dr. Jekyll sent you out with a list of weeds ten meters long… Nonetheless, you were thankful for a job that didn’t require waking up before noon, so you didn’t ask questions.

You were instructed that the Dark Forest, which backed up right to the wrought iron fence of the town cemetery, had the best nightshade. So every night, you went out and filled basket upon basket of the freshest herbs, with nobody for company but dead- which you were fine with! Given your nature, you considered being alone a perk of the job. There's great pleasure to be taken in being alone.

Well, you thought you were alone.

When you’re hacking limbs off a cold, inert body, your thoughts have a tendency to wander from the grisly shit you’re doing with your hands. Helps you sleep at night- especially if your idea of a bed is a dirty pillow haphazardly tossed in a corner of the lab. Ygor learned that quickly. In fact, he was so adrift in his thoughts that he had to look twice to make sure that bolt of hair he saw out of the corner of his eye was real. And, by god- it was! So, peering over the top of the grave, Ygor watched you work.

From that night on, you were the highlight of his evening. He’d stare at that enigmatic woman on the other side of the fence and wonder about you: the twigs snarled in your hair, the melody you hummed as you worked, the glint of cool moonlight off the warm skin of your neck-

It’d been a while since he touched skin that wasn’t cadaverous. That hunger for human contact was kindling for his obsession with this ephemeral angel of the graveyard…

And let’s say Ygor is not the most cunning when it comes to this sort of thing. So, after a few nights, you noticed him. I mean, you lived in Darkmoor; by extension, you couldn’t really ignore Ygor. While the town played host to a myriad of colorful characters in their own right, it’s particularly hard to ignore the famed Dr. Victoria Frankenstein's sniveling little assistant who goes skulking through the streets at dusk, muttering to himself.

But you found his shyness charming, in an odd sort of way. So one night, bored by the tedium of your work, you gave him a wave as if to say you noticed. But those glimmering orange lenses ducked away, and you were left curious about this…well, you couldn't call him a stranger, but you wanted to know him better.

A few nights later, you’d just finished picking through the salad when, across the street and through the dense downpour typical of Darkmoor, you could clearly make out a fumbling, stocky frame braced against the back of a wooden cart.

Whatever Ygor harvested from the graveyard- exactly which, you didn’t yet know- he would load onto this rickety wooden cart you swore spent more time stuck in the mud than it did on the road. It would be impolite, having spent so much time with him, to not exchange a few words… “Can I help you?”

What a start you gave him! Sharply pivoting, he gave you an awkward grimace of a smile that reminded you that teeth are just shards of bone jutting out of your skull for grinding things. But it was an earnest attempt at friendliness, you could tell that much.

Wedging your heels into the muck, the wheels creaked as you pressed your body weight for leverage. “If I may ask…” Voice straining with effort, you muttered, “What is your business in the graveyard? A little strange to find somebody digging around there, right?”

Oh, this lady with the questions… Overcoming his nerves, Ygor conspicuously cleared his throat, “Leaving flowers.” With a groan, the cart eased back onto cobblestone, which was paid no mind. Had you hit a nerve?

The people of Darkmoor love a good rumor. You’d heard damning whispers about what that bizzare man got up to at night. You urged, “I didn’t see any flowers- and you were digging for something…” Your leading theory was that he stole grave offerings: old jewelry, burnt out candles- nothing of great consequence.

“Saw you put somethin’ in your bag that night.”

“Ah!” Eyes wide, he threw an accusatory finger your way, “But you were watching Ygor! That is even stranger!” The polarity of your magnetic attraction had flipped. To your new friend here, you were now taking great pleasure in batting him around. Some cruel woman you are!

And perhaps he enjoyed being encroached upon equally as much as this devil woman enjoyed the encroaching… But that is not the point! This was becoming a comedy of misunderstandings! You chuckled softly, “Why, I quite liked watching you dig.” Leaning closer, you smiled in the least threatening way humanly possible, “You know, that whole manly thing.” Oh, now you were belittling him? First you acost him, and then- wait.

No, you seemed…genuine. Wiping the rain from the thick lenses of his goggles, Ygor couldn't divorce the skepticism from his tone. “Oh, ‘manly’? No- no! Please, do tell!” He cackled, amused at the preposterous thought, “What is so manly about Ygor?”

This woman must have been trying to give him a heart attack, what with how soft and sweet her voice got when she asked, “How would you like to discuss this over lunch sometime?” You glanced up at the still full moon. “Uh…dinner?”

Did dinner make a date? Or was this simply a meal between acquaintances? Whatever it was, you were happy Ygor agreed that stale bread and woody liquor on company time is better when shared, even if this convivial evening was being spent among headstones.

Your plan was to get enough booze in your new friend so that he relaxed and stopped staring at you like he’d never seen a woman in his life. Then, with your charms, you could get him to open up a little. Very clearly, from his panicked reaction, Ygor was stealing more than inconsequential grave offerings. You were driven by curiosity.

It was a remarkably clear night. Gazing out at the unbroken smattering of stars, you murmured, “My boss is gonna kill me if he catches us.” It seemed your plan was well on its way, judging by the subtle slur in Ygor’s reply when you passed him the dented flask, “You and me both, sister…”

The evening went on and, upon reaching a lull in conversation, Ygor’s gaze fell upon the bumpy, pus-crusted blotch on your neck from the forest ivy. “That.” He leaned closer to you to study it as if it were the most fascinating specimen he’d ever seen, dropping his voice to a murmur, “That rash on your neck. It’s very…sexy, you know? With how it curls up by your ear.”

Wow, he really knew how to make a girl feel special! Blushing at how close your bodies had grown, you squirmed away with a giggle, “Look at you, Casanova!” Blinking at you, the flirty tone left his voice. “No, I am Ygor.” Dismissively, you waved your hand in an ‘oh, you!’ gesture, reclining against a stone obelisk. What with the alcohol and how unexpectedly smooth you discovered him to be, could you really be blamed for abandoning your objective?

Speaking of the booze, he wasn't the only one doing the ogling here. Going back to that whole ‘manly’ thing, your eyes were drawn to a thick, wormy scar that ran across his forearm. Your mind ran through a myriad of ghastly, violent scenes; however, your fascination did not go unnoticed.

How you stroked his ego by adoring something he found so mundane... “Oh?” Making the mental connection with your previous comment, he rolled up his sleeve with a chuckle to boast, “Ygor has plenty of these! This one-“ He froze mid sentence, realizing he couldn’t merely say ‘Oh, that was just Larry, the half wolf, half man I’m responsible for feeding’…

“Uh…A wolf. I was bit by a wolf!”

And somehow, you bought it! Ygor was so thankful, he didn’t even mind when you leaned into his personal space with keen interest, the moon silhouetted your face as you gushed, “Really?” While the idea wasn't unheard of, it certainly brought to mind some galliant, torch-wielding, maiden-rescuing imagery. “That's so cool…”

You ended up pissing away your entire shift with your new friend- or maybe more than friends; you would have to see. After what felt like forever, you’d found the one person who was on your exact wavelength in the town pariah.

But along the tangle of tree limbs on the horizon, the rising sun began to seep into your little collusion. Regretfully, though still half potted, you bid your bittersweet farewells. Basket in hand, you waved, “We should do this again sometime!”

The fading click of your boots on the cobblestones made his heart pick up and urged him to say that cheesy line he’d been thinking of all those nights he watched you. He waved, “Be careful!” Your new friend called out, “Ygor might just fall in love with you!”

For a moment, you wondered if he needed to prowl through graveyards to find a woman to fall in love with. But at the same time, you quite liked him- so, so what if he did? Turning to look over your shoulder, you blew him a kiss before bounding off, fallen flowers and herbs trailing in your path.

Leaning one shoulder back in a ‘be still my heart’ gesture, Ygor melted like a lovesick fool. Oh, some cruel woman you are…

[wittymumbledon]

been tinkering with this self-indulgent little thing for a lil' while now, but I think it's finally ready to release into the wild - I've seen a few takes on the concept of a Gravity Falls and Jekyll and Hyde crossover already - and with the nature of things there's likely going to be quite a bit of overlap - but nonetheless I wanted to try and make my own take on it. (I will note, though, that I was quite inspired by @maruchanart - especially in regards to Bill's design :])

Now - "The Strange Case of Dr Pines and Mr Cipher" is quite the mouthful (and no doubt quite the painful hashtag) - so from here onwards I will simply refer to this as

The Strange Case AU

I haven't worked out the details yet - and the details that I have are likely to change considering I originally based this off the musical and am now also reading the original novel but- As it stands -

This AU will be loosely based on a combination of the original Robert Louis Stevenson novel and the later Jekyll & Hyde musical. If I end up making any sort of animated content I will likely use the original 1994 recordings (they're gorgeous, can you blame me?), but I am most visually inspired by the 2001 production (the one with David Hasselhoff in it - I've already stolen his ponytail for my Ford lol)

Though the AU features the GF cast (those of them that were around in the 70s and 80s anyway), it will be set back in the early 1800s like the original story. We'll sort out the time anomalies as they arise - I don't want to think about it too hard right now I imagine there might be some shifts to a couple family trees though...

The roles of Jekyll and Hyde will - understandably - be played by Dr. Stanford Pines and Mr. William Lucipher

Stanford's character remains mostly the same - he is still a brilliant scientist, curious about the strange and a workaholic to the core - but he leans more towards the egotistic (there's a lot more of his "Why didn't Rudolph use his red-hot nose to burn his oppressor's workshop to the ground?" side showing through)

The main roles get a lot muddier from here - especially considering some of the character changes between the novel and the musical - but Fiddleford mainly plays a joint role of Lanyon and Emma, with some Utterson thrown in where suitable (and potentially a bit of Lucy too--see I told you it gets muddy real quick). A brilliant mind for mechanics and mathematics, but also a mind prone to paranoia. He is in perpetual conflict over his feelings about Stanford's experiment and his feelings about Stanford himself.

Stanley mostly replaces Utterson from either version of the story, an likely whatever parts of Lanyon that can't taken over by Fidds. After getting disowned - and lacking his twin's much higher social reputation - he ends up working at a factory.

Feel free to ask about more details (might get me to finish the artworks faster lol) or make your own suggestions/speculations! :3

[hey-bigday]

what's that? TGS gem au!

these are honestly a bit old by now (2 month-ish? oh geez) but they have never left my head. If you want to know more, there is a massive yap wall under this cut with some lore and design ideas

First, Jekyll and Hyde's gems!

My first instinct was giving them hearts for gems, since we only ever see one Spinel in Steven Universe.

But I ended up remembering this that I read in the wiki a long time ago, that Spinels would have differently shaped gems based on playing card suits. I was suddenly hit with the fact that we do see both Jekyll and Hyde referred to with card symbolism in Just a Song at Twilight! This was very good for me, because I don't know anything about cards at all.

Jekyll also had a lot more diamonds scattered around his design– both a nod to his gem and his 'rule-following' attitude. Hyde only has the bare minimum to signify his court.

Trying to make a Sapphire is hard, and clothes are even harder, but I ended up making the choice to give Lanyon longer hair. He secretly hates it and reforms with shorter hair the first chance that he gets, but for now he has to keep up appearances

Figuring out Everly was also pretty hard, but that's mostly because she doesn't have that many appearances in the comic. I hope I got her right, even though I'm not entirely sure about making her a quartz.

Now...

LORE DUMP TIME!!!

Red Spinel (aka Henry Jekyll) was originally meant to be Pink Diamond's playmate. However, not long after her (his) creation, it became clear she was an off-color. An imperfect gem had no business being so close to a diamond, but due to the rarity and high-cost of spinels she was spared and instead sent as a 'gift' to a successful commander, Star Garnet (aka Lanyon Sir.)

Star Garnet was well-known for shaping up off-color gems into perfect fits for their roles. While this mostly earns the reputation of a fearsome leader, Star Garnet isn't actually cruel to her gems, she simply organizes thought-out training regimens to fit every gem's disabilities. Still, this exact reputation is what led to her being gifted Red Spinel. While she did not have any use for a Spinel seeing as she is war commander, she couldn't exactly refuse a gift so important as a spinel from the diamonds.

One of Star Garnet's gems that stands out the most is certainly her sapphire. Sapphires are aristocratic gems of high-standing, and so, are not under control of gems such as garnets. This sapphire, of course, is a special case. Tall where a sapphire is small, rowdy where a sapphire is calm. Sapphire (Robert Lanyon) has struggled her whole life to have a fraction of the respect a gem of her standing is supposed to have before she simply gave up. If no one is going to take her seriously for her predictions, then she'll give them a real reason.

Disrespecting orders, messing around with 'lower' gems and being generally disrespectful are Sapphire's specialty. She began to take quite a liking to interacting with the other gems in the Station: soldier, technicians... They all looked at her with the adoration befitting for a sapphire, but an adoration she had never seen directed at her before. Interacting with 'lower' gems made her feel a type of control she simply never felt in her life, and it was easy to leave once they got to attached–, or stars forbid–, accidentally tried to fuse with her. The fusions never worked, seeing as only one side felt the connection, but it was enough to prove her influence and leave gems ashamed.

Of course, things started to change with Spinel's arrival.

Seeing as Garnet had no use for a playmate, Spinel mostly walked around their space station like a particularly unnerving jester before meeting Sapphire. The two quickly hit off as Sapphire used Spinel as an excuse to escape most of the time, and Garnet mostly approved in hopes that Spinel might to Sapphire some good. The two gems ended up bonding, finding secret rooms to scurry off to and share experiences.

Spinel wasn't what Sapphire thought a spinel would be like, and Sapphire wasn't what Spinel thought a sapphire would act like. They both talked about their experiences, with Spinel admitting she wasn't particularly good at making people smile or fond of playing, not to mention her extreme curiosity for the works of peridot's (who have grow a bit scared of the red gem that keeps staring at them intensely from the shadows).

Now, while Sapphire didn't know how a spinel was actually supposed to act like, it was clear Spinel did not emerge with any knowledge of etiquette (which Sapphire actually did, another reason for her insecurities. She did everything right, so why was she never enough?) so Sapphire took upon herself to teach what she knows to Spinel, who took to the lessons like a fish in water. That's how the "gentlegem" lessons started.

As their friendship grew, so did Spinel's charm and confidence. She was a natural at being charismatic and while she wasn't a natural playmate, she was very good at boosting gem's morale with speeches and words. This completely erased most of Spinel's past reputation as 'that-one-creepy-gem', except for the peridots who were still a bit... Wary. But that's fine.

While Sapphire was a bit bitter about this (because, really, why was Spinel better at this than her, the gem who was supposed to be born for this role?) she was still floored by a torrent of new feelings as the time passed by. It didn't take long for her to realize what these feelings were. This care, this adoration, it was what those gems she so toyed with in the past felt for her. Spinel completely took away her control and didn't even realize it, and now Sapphire had to live with the consequences. She was unquestionably in love.

Even with all of these confusing feelings and the growing pressure on Sapphire, they still met up in their secret spot every few rotations. It was in one of these meetings that Sapphire took one of those fancy gadgets of recorded music that higher gems had from Pink Diamond's balls. Spinel didn't know how to dance, but Sapphire teached her. They danced, they harmonized, they glowed. Fusion was inevitable, and it felt amazing, but upon realizing what was happening their fusion immediately broke under the torrent of their feelings. Sapphire was the first one to react, and she ran, leaving Spinel dazed and alone.

Spinel tried acting like nothing happened after, and maybe Sapphire would've done so too if it wasn't for what happened next. Star Garnet came with a brand new soldier, a rose quartz (Everly Solanki), specifically to keep Sapphire in line and finally make her do her job. When Sapphire went to talk to Spinel directly and say they couldn't keep up with their arrangement anymore, Spinel was the one to leave first this time, now leaving Sapphire dazed and alone.

While Sapphire's and Rose Quartz's relationship was rocky at first, they ended up growing as friends by the end, relating to each other's struggles and expectations. Meanwhile, Spinel fell to an uneasy depression, greatly worrying her friends. This was about the time Spinel truly let herself indulge in the alchemy and technology she always loved, hoping, praying that she could find a solution that would make her less of a broken gem, a disposable clown. Studying the properties of a gem's, well, gem– Spinel manipulated what is supposed to be a gem's very being, their coding, their brain and sense of self. The injection that she delivery directly to her gems was supposed to separate herself from all that made her defective, it created Hyde instead.

I have more plans for this au– like how Jekyll didn't actually create the society before making Hyde. Star Garnet and her fleet will eventually be put in the Earth's gem war which will result in a part of her gems to mysteriously rebel and steal a ship. These gems, (which included Spinel, Sapphire and Rose) would come to make the Society in the future! Spinel would end up naturally taking a leading role in their escape and he appointed their leader. The plan would be that they settled down in a distant part of Earth's moon and would only visit the planet many years after the war was over. These visits would end up with them learning about things like names and gender so you don't have to call characters by their gems all the time, those are their dead names now! (← silly)

Thank you for anyone who had the patience to read all of this, love you all 🫶

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part iii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: tensions rise as your second lesson continues, but joel still refuses to admit his feelings to you—or himself. you'd concede defeat if you really believed he didn't want you. or if his actions weren't constantly contradicting his words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher au, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, sexual tension, finger kink, smut, angst, f!masturbation, mild exhibitionism, mentions of guilt & shame

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | part i | part ii

You have no idea how you're supposed to survive another afternoon with Joel, let alone an entire semester. He's basically Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, hiding under the visage of an unfairly sexy, middle-aged musician, but you never know which one you’re dealing with until he pushes you away or calls you his girl.

Today, he feels like a dangerous combination of both.

After your verbal agreement to keep things professional, yet again, he concedes and finally sits next to you on the couch. Guess that safe distance he was so desperate to maintain is null and void now that he’s made his feelings clear—sort of.

You assume his proximity is an olive branch, but it sure doesn't feel like one. Now, he's close enough to smell his cologne, an earthy, woodsy scent that's so Joel, it makes your head spin. It's also making this lesson infinitely harder to focus on.

You’d never even considered the possibility of him shutting you down this hard, but then again, a hot fling with an older guy wasn’t why you showed up on his doorstep in the first place. If he'd just admit he's interested, maybe things could be different, but he won’t, will he? So, what other option do you have?

You’re not going to throw yourself at him like some pathetic schoolgirl with a crush, even if that’s exactly what you are. You want him to want to touch you, to crave you the way you're sure he does, but right now he wants to teach you chords. Starting with C, apparently.

“We’re gonna try this chord again, alright? Same as last time, nice and slow,” he starts, reaching back to pull something out of his pocket. He presents you with a small, black piece of plastic that looks like a clamp, identical to the one on his guitar. "This here's called a capo. Go ahead and fit it right over the third fret—it’ll raise the key of the guitar. M’thinkin' that'll make things a little easier for ya."

You push your feelings to the side and accept it, following his lead and squeezing it into place before glancing up for his approval. He gives you an encouraging smile and nods, and your heart rate kicks up wildly in your chest.

God, why does his praise feel so good? And why does it feel like it’s been so long since anyone was this patient with you, or genuinely wanted to see you succeed? You realize you want him to keep looking at you like that, regardless of the nature of your relationship.

"S'perfect. Now, your fingers'll go here, here, and here," he arranges his fingers one by one on the three strings that make up the chord and strums. He lets it ring out for a moment, then looks up at you expectantly. "Any of this ringin' a bell from yesterday?"

Vaguely. Mainly, you're remembering how tempting his fingers looked while he was playing, but you'll have to do better than that today. Instead, you focus on mirroring what he showed you.

"Like this?" you ask hesitantly, pressing down on the strings and mimicking his motions. Tough nylon bites into your skin just as painfully as last time, but the sound you produce is pretty. Nothing like the muted, garbled mess from your previous attempt.

You meet his eyes, and they're filled with none of the surprise yours contain. He just looks pleased, like he had total confidence in you even if you didn't.

"Exactly like that. See? You're doin' better already. Must'a done your finger exercises last night like I told ya,” he says proudly, none the wiser.

If only he knew that’s exactly what you spent your night doing. Practically the entire night, if you’re being honest, and to no avail. It might’ve unintentionally improved your dexterity, but you're still stuck on everything that did or didn't happen yesterday. The only lasting result is how unexpectedly conflicted it made you feel. You nod, biting your lip to keep from grimacing.

“Sure did,” you play it off with a laugh. "I wanted to be as prepared as possible."

Prepared for something a little more physical than playing guitar, but that's a moot point now, isn't it?

You sound as fake as you feel, but luckily he’s so eager to continue the lesson, he doesn’t notice. Again, you follow his lead and try your best to ignore your disappointment and bury the residual hurt. You have a sneaking suspicion you're going to be doing a lot of that, but inexplicably, it's getting easier.

You're starting to realize it's not in spite of Joel. It's because of him. In a brief moment of self-indulgence, you let your gaze linger on his rosy cheeks and the newfound serenity in his eyes.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his love for music radiates like a Texas heatwave, burning hotter with every chord he strums and string he picks. Even his posture is loosening, and the soft smile on his face seems like a permanent fixture.

It's that same warmth from earlier. That intimate connection you felt blooming in your chest from sharing in his joy. Cautiously, you allow yourself to hope, if not for you and Joel, then for your degree. For the goals you have yet to achieve that, regardless of the past 24 hours, still mean everything to you.

"So, what's next?" you ask eagerly.

His eyes light up, and you know you've asked the right question. He shifts across the strings to a new chord, his smile widening as you quickly move to match him.

"Next, we're learnin' F," he grins, nodding toward your finger placement. "Then, I figure we can run through some pickin' patterns if you're up for it.”

"I'm up for anything you are, teach," you reply earnestly, and the smile you give him feels genuine this time. You really do mean it in every sense. "But be gentle with me. It's been a while, if that wasn't obvious."

His smile falters, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes. After a moment, you realize what you said and how it must’ve sounded. You open your mouth to clarify, but before you get the chance, his expression clears. He chuckles, and it's a light, tinkling thing that fills your chest with a heady combination of relief and longing.

Of course, he’d take it in stride. You’re struck again by the resemblance to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, left wondering if you're still imagining things. The subtle twitch of his fingers must be a figment of your imagination, too, or at least that's what you tell yourself. It doesn't matter now, anyway.

"'Course, I will,” he drawls companionably, his words commanding your attention, compelling you to hang on to each one like a lifeline. “Like I said, we'll take it nice and slow. Ease you back into things until you're ready for somethin' harder.”

It takes everything you have not to choke on your spit. Ignore it. Ignore it. Focus on the lesson and how incredible it’s going to feel when you finally finish the song and pass your damn class.

But you can’t. He’s too close, and he smells so good. You’re only human.

"I think I'll surprise you," you retort cheekily. You’re so fucked. "Plus, I like it hard. Just need a little build-up to get me there."

His hand tenses in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it movement, and you can't help the overwhelming feeling of pride pooling in your belly. You've never backed down from a challenge and you're not about to start now. This one is apparently still ongoing.

"Well, all right, then," he says smoothly, and this time when you shiver, he looks pleased. "Let's hear ya strum it, and then we'll work through the rest. Think you can handle that?"

You straighten up, sitting confidently with your fingers poised over the frets, ready to play. As you shift in your seat, your thigh presses firmly into his and sends a rush of heat straight to the pit of your stomach. "Yeah, I can take it.”

He shakes his head with an amused, yet undoubtedly shy smile. You bite your lip coyly, nodding at the sheet music you've just noticed on the rug at his feet.

"Are there more chords in this bar or is it just picking until the next line?"

It's a toss-up whether or not he heard any of what you just asked if his rapt attention on your lips is any indication. You're still teasing your bottom lip with your teeth, and it's not until you laugh that he finally snaps out of it. He shakes his head a little harder as if to shoo away the distraction, before reaching down to inspect the piece of paper.

He concentrates a little too hard on the page, looking but not seeing, so you reach over and point at a confusing string of notes that connect and repeat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. His gaze shifts to your daintily extended index finger, and you're hit with an intense feeling of deja vu, except this time, your roles are reversed.

“Can you show me how that part goes? It looks like gibberish to me, to be totally honest,” you prod him, trying to reel him back in.

As if on autopilot, he quickly discards the sheet and shifts his hands into place, ready to teach like he wasn't just daydreaming about your fingers wrapped around his cock, covered in his release. And if he wasn't, then you sure were.

“Y-yeah, sure thing. That line's just the intro, but the flow is somethin' else. Probably one of my all-time favorites," he says, his endearing mask carefully slotted back into place.

But you're onto him now. Begrudgingly, he tears his eyes away from where you're matching him on your guitar, waiting patiently for his next instructions.

"It really ain't as bad as it looks," he continues. "The timing's purposely a little off, but it's adaptable. This one's real easy to add your own spin to if that's somethin' ya wanna try."

With all of the skill and grace of a practiced musician, he plucks through the line to give you a preview of what was previously only lines and circles on a page. The notes blend seamlessly, a mixture of picking and what you vaguely remember to be hammering, and it evokes something you never expected.

An unidentified emotion takes root and feels startlingly like yearning and hope, carried by the short melody. It's beautiful. He circles back to the beginning, hopping along the frets slowly just for you, and he's beautiful. You watch him, enamored by his fluidity and ease of motion.

For him, all of this is innate. His guitar is a natural extension of himself, something he was born to hold. You used to think you were born for it, too. The reminder is a painful one, but thankfully you're not left to dwell on it for long.

"So, how 'bout it? Ready to give it a try?" Joel's voice cuts through the fog, as honeyed and mellow as the music at his fingertips. You want to hear that voice call you beautiful again and feel him panting against the shell of your ear while he stretches you out around his thick fingers. God, you want.

Yet, your hands move of their own accord and fall into place—it's the C chord. Apparently, you really want that, too.

"Ready, teach," you nod, and you know you must look like a lovesick fool.

Right now, you really don't care because your gorgeous guitar teacher is beaming and excited, and beneath it all, there's still a tinge of something that makes you believe all of this is real. A lust for more simmering just below the surface.

"You have my full attention, promise."

——

The next hour is spent walking through various strumming and picking patterns, and acquainting yourself with the fluctuating tempo. It's tricky, but you're committed. Again and again, you repeat the same bars, following Joel's interjected advice and corrections, and your mistakes become less obvious until they're all but gone completely.

Rewarding doesn't even begin to cover how a successful run feels. Even the pain blooming beneath the reddening indents on your fingertips feels good. Calluses are beginning to roughen the soft skin, but you earned them.

They're yours and yours alone, proof that you worked your ass off and achieved something remarkable. The results speak for themselves, bouncing around the walls of Joel's living room and breathing new life into the space. Your contribution to his little corner of the world.

And Joel looks so damn proud. He stays patient through every flubbed hammer and too-hard pluck, grinning when you complete the section without his guidance. Your lesson's already gone on long past its scheduled time, but neither of you seems to notice. You likely wouldn't bother to mention it even if you did.

Time trickles by like the slow drip of molasses, thick with the sweetest tension, yet the longer you play, the more a familiar ache starts to creep in and make your progression a little more difficult.

Your hand is cramping, and it hurts. You pause mid-strum to shake it out and stretch your fingers, sighing at the brief respite.

"Hurtin' again, huh?"

You huff out a laugh, remembering the last time he asked you that question. The throbbing in your joints would more than welcome another massage from Joel, but you don't exactly trust yourself to come back from that. You have to stay focused until the next line of the song, at the very least.

"It's really not that bad. Guess all those finger exercises are paying off," you joke, but you don't expect him to catch the underlying punchline. "I kinda figured it wouldn't go away overnight, anyway."

You can tell he's thinking about it, too. He nods understandingly, tapping a restless, arrhythmic beat against his guitar.

"S'all part of bein' a guitar player, unfortunately," he agrees, his entire body tense like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and inspect the subtle changes to your delicate skin for himself.

Your mind starts to wander as his tapping changes to slow circles swirled into the wood grain. You can't help but wonder if your new calluses would feel good sliding up and down his cock, if he'd like the coarse hint of pain teasing the ridge or circling the tip. You wonder what his own would feel like pressing into your clit. The skin of his middle and ring fingertips is noticeably rougher than the rest and with a little pressure—fuck.

You're wet. That can't happen. You have to concentrate. But his movements are starting to speed up, and you can almost feel them sliding through your messy heat.

The intrusive thought is thankfully interrupted when he stops the lewd motion and continues his reassurances like it never happened. Why does he keep doing that? It seems so pointless to keep pretending you’re not on the same page, but you’re not about to call him out and scare him off again.

You tell yourself to focus on the pain. Focus on what he’s saying, not what he’s insinuating.

"Pain's a good thing. It means you're stickin' it out and makin' some real progress," he says fondly, and it's almost enough to reclaim your attention. "Says a lot about the kind of person you are, too, what you do with that pain and how you let it shape ya. You're a good one, I can tell. Committed, like I was."

It's so much sweeter than anything you'd expected him to say. It helps.

"Fair enough. Still kinda sucks though," you grumble, but the slight quirk of your lips betrays your tone.

"Yeah, yeah. What happened to likin' it hard?" he asks playfully, and you feel that telltale whoosh between your legs.

You shift uncomfortably, subtly trying to unstick your underwear from where it's cemented to your core, but the unexpected friction makes you flinch. He picks up on it immediately.

"Look, why don't we take a break? I'll grab us some drinks while you rest up, and we can dive back in whenever you're ready," he offers, his voice raspier than before.

"Yeah, that, um...that sounds good. I'm actually gonna run to the bathroom real quick if that's cool," you reply, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

It's hot as hell all of a sudden, even though the AC hasn't stopped kicking since you got here, and you have a feeling cold drinks won't be enough to cool you down. He hesitates before nodding, then points down the hall.

"'Course. S'the first door on your left," he says, brows furrowing in concern. You all but speed walk past him to your temporary haven.

Backing into the door the moment it closes behind you, you squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can, but it only makes it worse. The ache is almost unbearable, and you know for a fact that you'll waste the rest of the lesson if you try to go back out there like this.

The entire afternoon has been such a complicated back-and-forth of conflicting feelings and confusion, but you still have no idea what do to about it. You want him to fuck you, but you also want him to teach you. He wants to teach you, but he also wants you in ways he won't admit to you. Or himself.

Your head is cloudier than it's been all day, and your thoughts are a jumbled mess of desire and rationality, both fighting for dominance. So, now what?

There was only one way to clear the fog last night, but you really shouldn't. You're in his bathroom for christ's sake, and he can't be more than 15 feet away, pouring you a glass of lemonade in the kitchen.

You do it, anyway. With one hand shoved down your pants and the other slapped over your mouth, you decide your best course of action is to rub one out in Joel's bathroom to rid yourself of this distraction once and for all. And it feels good.

The moment your sore fingertips press into your clit, your hips buck into your touch and you lose yourself to the friction. You're even wetter than you realized, and your fingers keep slipping from where you need them most, so you change tactics, ramming two of them inside you instead.

So much for resting your hand. Your motions are frantic, bordering on desperate, and you can't bring yourself to stop now that you've started. Wet squelching mingles with your muffled moans and fills the room, noisier than you’ve been all day even after an afternoon of playing guitar.

But you're getting a little too loud. The door rattles on its hinges every time your palm slaps into your heat, and your hand isn't nearly enough to mask your increasing volume the closer you get. Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't hear a thing. Or maybe you'll get really lucky and he'll hear everything.

You're too far gone to care. Just a little more. You can feel yourself starting to squeeze your fingers, and you just need a little bit more—

Then, there's a knock at the door and Joel's voice tentatively filters through.

"Everythin' alright in there?" he asks kindly, but he sounds wrecked.

It's obvious he heard everything, and yet he's still trying to be polite, desperately clinging to his morals and good, Southern manners. Too bad that turns you on.

Not bothering to respond, you keep going, fixated on how vivid a picture your unstifled moans and reckless actions must be painting. You wouldn't be surprised if it's just your imagination again, but you swear you can hear labored breathing and a litany of muttered curses coming from the other side.

He knocks on the door again, harder this time, and you quickly realize that any patience Joel had left is gone. You've finally pushed him past his limit.

"M'givin' you sixty seconds to get back in that livin' room," he grits out roughly. "You're finishin' out here."

The door shakes as he pushes off of it and stomps away, leaving you in palpable silence.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iv!

divider by @saradika-graphics

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

I ran here after your response to that musical!reader headcanon and the mention of Jekyll and Hyde has me SWOONING.

I saw a local production where the woman playing Lucy went out into the audience during "Bring On The Men" and flirted with people, she even sat down on her friend's lap!

What if musical!reader did that to Viktor 🤭

OH MY G O D THATS SO COOL???

Viktor would DIE. Like actually just pass way. Stop breathing and ascend to the next plane of existence. Glorious Evolution TM.

Viktor is usually very appreciative of music. It's similar to mathematics, in many ways, equations of numbers and notes put together for a new and unique sounding result. He does enjoy theater as well from time to time: it requires a lot of practice, experience, trial and error... by that logic, musical theater should be an art form just as objectively interesting in his eyes.

If what you're doing on stage right now is musical theater, though, he's having a VERY hard time staying objective about it.

It's nothing short of dirty. From the corset that hugs your waist and reveals way too much of your generous chest, to the way you're spreading your legs invitingly for the entire audience to see, everything about you screams sex. He's absolutely transfixed, incapable of looking away from the way your hands touch your own body to the beat of the invisible orchestra.

He's only pulled away from the moment when some students a few seats away start loudly whistling and whooping for your attention, like this is a strip club and not a college play.

THAT'S when he starts to get mad.

He's suddenly very aware of the fact that there's about a hundred other people in the room, students and faculty members, watching the same performance he is. How many of them will imagine you in their bed tonight? How many of them are imagining you in their lap right now?

The smile on your lips speak louder than a thousand words: you're enjoying this, the thrill of the stage, the eyes undressing you while you sing your pretty little song about getting fucked by nameless strangers. Even worse, he's certain you're taking pleasure in knowing he's got front row seats for it, that you've effectively got him powerless and chained down while you're giving a show he should be the only one witnessing.

You've flipped over your roles as student and teacher, and now, he's the one who has to sit silently and drink every word from your lips. It's devilishly clever.

He would be genuinely impressed if he wasn't burying his nails into his cane with one hand and trying to cover the tent in his dress pants with the other.

The projector suddenly moves; it follows you as you're going down the few stairs from the stage to the floor, heels sharp against the concrete floor.

So lets bring on the men

And let the fun begin

Your eyes finally meet his. They're filled with bright sparkles from the stage lights, teasing and provoking. Tauntingly asking if he's ready for what's next, when you both know he doesn't have a say in the matter. The show must go on.

'Ah, shit' is the only thing that comes across his mind before you sit on his lap, the spotlight blinding him.

A little touch of sin

Why wait another minute?

Your movements are calculated and precise, applying just enough pressure on his clothed cock for you to feel how hard he is, without granting him any relief. The audience cheers; he thinks he's having an aneurism.

You bat your mascara heavy eyelashes at him, abandoning the play for a triumphant instant. 'See?' he can almost hear you say. 'I knew I'd get your attention eventually. What's your next move, professor?'

Oh, he is going to make you regret this.

[ender-cloud]

NEW UPDATE!!! God I love Lanyon so much im so hyped to dive into this

Tgs spoilers under cut

Something ive noticed with many characters in TGS is their persistence to keep everyone to have this view of them. Jekyll, of course, wants to be seen as the perfect, put together, leader of the society, while Hyde wants to be seen as someone who doesn’t really care about stuff, someone who’s tough and carefree.

In this case Lanyon seems to be closer to Hyde than Jekyll on this front. He wants to keep his “i dont care about anything” appearance, it shows how he presents himself in studies as well as playing the guys in his university. Even now Lanyon sometimes acts as if he doesn’t care about Jekyll or his issues but in reality, Lanyon cares a lot for very certain things.

By trying to act as though he doesn’t care makes it so he cares more, and Jekyll is reasonably confused by this.

I like how Jekyll more approaches Lanyon being confused and just wanting to understand why than a more judgmental approach. Jekyll just doesn’t understand, I dont think he’s Judging Lanyon as much as he just wants to know why.

He has a different goal to prove himself to people so he wants to know why Lanyon can prove himself but chooses not to.

To bring back what i said last week; Lanyon is smart, he knows things, but he acts like he doesn’t as a way of defying his father. But now that im looking at it, it’s s once again an example of reputation and how trying to keep it up can hold you back on many fronts.

Lanyon was quick to change the subject, he doesn’t want Jekyll, or anyone around them, to figure out the truth but the seeds had already been planted in Jekylls mind and now he’s connecting some dots he hasn’t thought of before.

“The second you put your mind to anything, you take to it like a duck in water” Lanyon puts his mind to a lot of things but I think he truly only gets into them if he actually wants to.

For example; when he was trying to not Care about jekyll during the society fair thing (i need to reread so bad I just dont have the time) he wasnt able to, it was like he was trying to force himself not to care like his university days but whenever he saw Jekyll he had to remind himself over and over again to push that care down.

Lanyon might’ve not needed to force himself to care as much during university but it might’ve taken a bit to get to this point of being able to do it easily. But if its something he truly cares about he has a hard time pretending that he doesn’t or is very determined to keep it like his reputation.

Ngl, if I was Lanyon and someone looked at me like that I would break in a second.

Lanyon can tell that Jekyll is close to figuring him out and its both scary in this moment aswell as surprised. No one has been able to put this together, no one else has seemed to care this much before or has gotten so close to him to see multiple signs

Lanyon is stronger than me and did not break but I would’ve been in shambles.

Lanyon Always says that he doesn’t care when Jekyll catches him? I think that shows how much he does care if he has to constantly remind that he doesn’t means that he must show that he does at some points, and it also indicates that Jekyll asked more in the future, just because of Lanyon saying he said it whenever he was caught of guard.

I genuinely love Lanyon so much, there’s so much to his character and its so interesting to me, he definitely is up as one of my favorite characters of all time. He just as so much depth to him, how much he doesn’t care yet does care, I like characters with a lot of depth more than just what you can see on the surface.

Whenever we get to see his thoughts it can give us more explanation and more of an understanding than what Jekyll had seen.

I want to know why Lanyon brought this up, the only thing I can think of is trying to lure Jekyll out but it’s still interesting,

[oceanblueeyes03]

To the request Anon on my ego Luke Anon ask,

You asked about my opinion of Nicola Coughlan and Luke’s intentions towards her. In a nutshell, I think Nicola is doing her best to maintain professionalism right now. So many fans love throwing Nicola’s words back at her because she went to bat for Luke repeatedly. When she said her remarks, I do believe she was genuine. But something changed, didn’t it? That’s what most don’t want to acknowledge because there is a marked difference in their relationship towards each other right now.

And as I’ve read on this & other blogs there are more realistic opinions out there that are secreted or swept under the rug among the Fandom because they are afraid of censure or of being ostracized. Fans disagree in “public” echo chambers but quietly agree in “private”. Hell, I’m writing this Anonymously – so go figure? LOL 🤪 As time has passed, the more extremes of the Fandom appear to be the ones who have remained while the folks in the middle got off this ride a long time ago or learned to shut up & watch the circus.

So my take? It’ll be like my previous post. I’m not breaking ground or saying things that haven’t been expressed within the Fandom over the year I’ve been lurking.

In my opinion, Nicola felt betrayed by Luke & his actions at the end of their WT. Did Nicola read into things between them? Did Luke let her read into things? Probably a bit of both. But imagine all the hard work, conversations, & time that went into making season 3 the success it was. Could you imagine giving it your all while being completely vulnerable to the process, only to find out your efforts/feelings weren’t reciprocated? That maybe your bond wasn’t as strong, as you thought. When you believed you were a team? Have you ever been betrayed in love or friendship? Have you ever done a group project & been the one to pull all the weight? To quote the movie 27 Dresses: I feel like I just found out my favorite love song was written about a sandwich. What a kick to the cu$#. And then feel the responsibility to save their season by throwing continual support Luke’s way… being the number 1 fan of Lukey Newts or whatever she said. AND HE UP AND GHOSTED. UP. AND. GHOSTED. Are you f&#@ing kidding me?

There is no human on Earth who would not feel a certain way after all that. There’s a saying don’t 💩 where you eat. Welp… They are tied to one another from here on out “until they’re old a gray.” Always Colin & Penelope. Always Luke & Nicola. You gotta play nice. So Nicola rolled out the dictionary listing every iteration of friend she could find: pal, dude, etc. She’s very aware of this Fandom & the expectations therein. As I stated above, Nicola may have also had some expectations of Luke herself. I think Nicola thought “oh no, how do I break it to the fans so they don’t feel lied to when even I don’t know how to process all this?” Because what is Luke going to do to help us with this situation…

To that point, what has passive Luke done? Disappeared. Did no promotion. Went yachting while his friends rode his coattails. Popped up looking like a brooding 70’s Lothario wannabe model with Antonia at BOSS. Then had the funniest about-face in front of all of us… the SAG Awards. Fans rejoiced convinced Luke was back. Even Nicola was startled. Didn’t you see that on her face? He went from abandoning Nicola to the doting Luke of WT. Simple as that. Whether you want to believe they were always just colleagues, friends, or lovers – that’s still a hard pill she had to swallow. Jekyll & Hyde. Two-faced. Nicola physically recoiled then her professionalism kicked in. We all saw it. I imagine she said to herself, “I’m not doing this to myself again” & decided game on. She followed Antonia on IG. Instead of having Luke’s bullshit pushed on her, she pushed back & flipped the table. She said, you don’t get to play the Fandom & me again with Antonia and your “pookey-ness”. If you don’t have the balls to claim her, I do – I’ll claim Antonia for you. So Nicola did. In the process, she pissed off everyone but… I understand her motives.

Enough is enough. Nicola wants to be as far away from Luke as possible. I would want to, too. I’d be afraid I’d break down & deck him with my tiny Irish fists or a nearby folding chair. And Luke knows it… he senses something’s off. Well welcome to the class, Mr. Newton. The rest of us have been waiting for you to wake the f$#% up.

WOW ANON this is AMAZING!!!! Perfectly written ❤️

Love Love this! Thank you for sharing this!!!!

I agree with everything ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Going to post a link to this on to my pinned post!!!

[puppycak3s]

Run While You Still Can | James Sunderland/ Pyramid Head x Reader Part Two | inspired by @scratchingcatfics658 for their Jekyll and Hyde AU

TWs: HEAVY Dubcon, power struggle, chasing, cheating(technically), groping, fingering, PinV, written with afab anatomy in mind but no terms are used, monsterfucking, and slight blood. All of my works are intended for adult audiences🫶 (also yall i suck at proofreading so be warned) p.s. listen to this song its the same vibe

As you went to go back to the bed, he followed you. Like a dog on a leash. As you sat down, he stood next to you, awkward and fidgety. You cocked your head at him.

"James, honey?"

You could see something almost dark flash across his eyes. You feared that maybe you had crossed a line. But he said nothing, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"You're not going to wear that jacket to sleep are you?"

You gestured to him. "It's kinda, well.."

He looked down at himself, as if he was just now realizing the state he was in.

"Oh I- yea I should probably.."

he started to take off his jacket, revealing a rumpled dress shirt underneath. He folded his jacket, most likely an old habit, before draping it across one of the chairs in the room.

You took a second to take him in. You knew he was strong but without the bulk of his jacket you got a better picture. Broad shoulders, stocky build. You could only imagine what he looked like under the shirt. You'd pay to see that.

He brushed off the chair, making to sit down there. You huffed at him.

"James, you are not sleeping on the chair".

He stopped what he was doing, looking like a deer in headlights. Like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. You patted the blanket next to you.

He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it.

"I... I'm not sure that's a good idea" he hesitated, not moving from where he was.

"I don't bite, James" you teased. "Plus you'll mess up your back sleeping on that chair, we both need to be in the best condition we can."

He looked from you, back to the chair and back to you.

"Yes, but I still don't think- I mean we-" he sighed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't a good idea, you- you've only known me a couple of weeks."

He shook his head, slowly meeting your gaze.

"Why aren't you scared of me? I...can't figure you out."

You returned his gaze, a bit quizically. The man who had been protecting you at all costs, always putting himself in line with danger to keep you safe, was saying you should be scared of him.

You didn't say anything, you being scared of him had crossed your mind, in the beginning but now.

You trusted him.

He waited a beat, waiting for you to come to your senses, to tell him to leave and never come back. He let out a breath as he started to absentmindedly pace.

"This whole.." he gestured vaguely with his hands. "Situation that we're in right now, this" he scoffed "this place, this town. It's crawling with monsters, with danger" his pacing stopped as he turned his attention fully to you.

"It's incredibly reckless to trust me, I- I'm just a stranger, a random man you met and I just don't understand why..why you.."

He gave you a look that was hard to decipher. Longing, anguish, but overall a want- a NEED for you to push him away. You didn't. You would only draw him in.

You reached and grabbed his hands. They were warm, always so warm, calloused and blood stained but you didn't care. You cared about him. You rubbed your thumb across the back of one of his hands, to soothe him and to ground yourself.

"James" you started quietly.

"I've never had someone who would stand in the way of threats," you glanced up at him, his gaze had considerably softened. "Had someone to put my safety first, care about if I get hurt."

You could feel a lump start to form in your throat, but you weren't going to cry. This wasn't the time.

"Everyone that has said that they care for me, their actions never match, I always end up..hurt in some way or another." You fully met his gaze now, searching his eyes for anything. "Your actions, the way that you treat me, it's something I've never felt from another person."

You took a shaky breath and you could feel James come closer, kneeling down to your level.

"I was wary of you at the beginning but.. James?"

He nodded his head softly, acknowledging you.

"I think you're..a good man."

That darkness flashed across his eyes again, as he looked down at his hands, your hands

. Would you think that he was a good man if you knew what his hands were capable of. Would you feel safe with him then?

"I'm.. not a good man." He said softly.

You moved one of your hands to cradle his face, the stubble scratching lightly at your palm. He froze completely. It was like ice, fire, a shock that went through him entirely. His eyes slowly met yours.

"You are to me." You murmured. His hand shakily went up to cover yours, pressing it softly into his face. "You are a good man to me James."

You both gazed at eachother, the tension was heavy, but neither of you were acting on it.

You wanted to kiss him.

Wanted him to use his big hands on you, move you where he wanted you.

Feel him on you.

You wanted him, and it made you feel guilty.

You both were in this place, this town, looking for someone else. Someone who was important to the both of you respectively. You shouldn't be feeling this way, you knew it was wrong. But that didn't stop the want. The need for comfort.

James groaned softly and took your hand from his face, looking away.

"I...can't."

He avoided your gaze as he stood back up.

"This isn't..you're here for someone else, I-I'm here for someone else this just isn't..."

his eyes met yours and they said everything. He wanted to.

By god did he want to, but it just wasn't...

"it's just not-"

"Safe?" You interupted, a resigned but understanding look on your face.

You let out a small sigh. "It's okay James, I wasn't trying to pressure you into anything, I get it."

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

The longing in his eyes remained, but you were pretty sure yours had the same.

You looked out the dirty window.

"It's getting late, we should probably try to get some rest."

He nodded his head slowly.

"Yea.. yea that's probably a good idea."

You shuffled onto your side of the blanket as James followed suit, rather timidly.

He was staring up at the ceiling as you lay on your side facing him. Watching his chest rise rythmically made you all the more tired.

"James?" You said looking up at him.

"Hmm?"

"Will you stay here, please?"

The springs of the mattress creaked as he turned to face you.

"I'm not going anywhere." He said softly rubbing your arm.

The first physical contact he had initiated.

"Now get some rest, we don't know what we'll stumble into tomorrow"

You smiled sleepily as you tucked your arm under your head, a makeshift pillow.

"You better... rest too.. James.. or else.."

You could hear a small chuckle as you finally drifted off to sleep.

You awoke with a start, a loud scraping noise echoing down the hallway. Your heart lurched as you reached to wake James. Nothing. Your stomach dropped. He wasn't there.

The urge to cry resurfaced but you pushed it down yet again. This was possible life or death, there wasn't time. You scrambled up as the scraping continued. It was closer now. You had to think, but you just.. you didn't have time.

You crept quietly to the floor, searching blindly in the darkness for anything you could defend yourself with. Your hands fumbled across the lead pipe James had been carrying earlier. As you grasped it you winced in horror as it made an agonizingly loud scrape against the floor.

Fuck.

Whatever was after you knew you were here now. You rushed over to the corner by the door. If- when the monster came in the room, at least you would be covered. You waited with bated breath as the scraping drew closer and closer. The sound of heavy footsteps accompanying it. Your brain felt frenzied, all of your nerves on fire, your muscles taught, ready to run.

Silence.

The scraping, the footsteps, had stopped.

You let out a shaky breath as you strained your ears-

only for the door to slam open. It struck you, struck the wall, as new waves of panic coursed through your veins. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as the trudging footsteps entered the room. Through the space in the door, illuminated by the moon, was a great, hulking beast. A man shaped creature with a sharp polygon atop its shoulders. You could feel your blood freeze in your veins. You knew it was looking for you, knew you needed to run, but fear had rendered you immobile. Your brain was screaming at your body, desperate to leave the threat behind and just fucking RUN. But your limbs wouldn't listen.

The floor creaked as the creature drew it's arm back, only to plunge it into the mattress, the very spot you had been moments ago. The mattress imploded on itself, the springs screeching against the enormous blade, clinging on to it, as the figure withdrew it from its carnage. Your hands flew up to your mouth in horror and you dropped it.

You dropped the lead pipe.

Fuck.

It clattered dully against the floor boards as the great hulking mass turned it's attention to you.

Run. Run. Fucking RUN.

Panic sprung your muscles into action as you scrambled out of the room, the door once again banging on the wall, echoing down the halls. You stumbled over your own feet as you caught yourself. Your knee had made contact with the uneven carpet, scraping along it, but you didn't feel it. The adrenaline coursing through you as your brain repeated its screaming mantra.

Run. Run. Run.

As your breath came in short spurts, your muscles pushing themselves beyond their limit, you weaved through the seemingly endless hallway. In the dark it was impossible to see anything, all the doors looked the same, a seemingly neverending labrynth.

You turned your head over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your attacker, only to fully fall onto the ground. Your face hit the floor, dingy carpet doing little to soften the blow as you felt everything stop for a second.

Your ears were ringing, blocking and muffling any sound around you as you struggled to breathe. You stumbled forward trying to get up, to get away, only for a sharp pain in your head to bring you to your knees. You curled up in a ball, sobbing bitterly as you cradled your head in your hands.

You didn't care anymore. If the monster was going to get you, then let it. That's what you get. That's what you get for trusting someone to protect you. James was right, you shouldn't have trusted him.

You lay there, as the thundering footsteps and rough scraping grew closer. Let it. Just end it already.

It stopped. You lifted your head to see the hulking mass standing above you. It's breathing laboured and heavy through the metal contraption affixed to its shoulders.

It didn't move.

He didn't move, you assumed it was male, its sweat drenched bare chest gleaming in the light of the moon. Ending with a rough hewn canvas halfhazardly draped across it's waist. He shook with every breath, like it pained him.

You glared as you managed to sit up, leaning away protectively.

"What do you want?" You spat.

No response just more heavy breathing.

"GODDAMNIT WHAT DO YOU WANT!" you shrieked, your voice breaking as tears started to stream down your face again, the saline stinging where the carpet had rubbed your flesh raw.

As you sobbed the creature remained motionless. Like a heaving statue. The silence was broken by a shearing metallic sound as a rough, gravelly noise escaped the helmet.

"W..AN...T"

Your eyes widened as your breath caught in your throat, causing you to choke. It was trying to talk, this bastard was mimicking your last words and using them against you. You slammed your fists against the carpet as you sobbed.

"James..J-ames please, help me!" You doubled over on yourself as your body was wracked with sobs.

The shearing noise echoed in the hallway.

"J..AM..E..S"

You shot a glare to the beast, sniffling and heaving.

"Don't. DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!" You swiped at your nose with the back of your hand, unnoticed blood smearing it. "You leave him the FUCK ALONE, YOU HEAR ME!"

It still didn't move, he didn't move. More grating metal.

"W..AN...T."

He lurched forward, blade clattering to the floor, its heavy breaths and pants echoing through it's adorment.

"Y..O..U.."

the last word was nearly intelligible, the sound of grating metal drowning out the guttural noise. It was beyond unnatural, alien. Your breathing was erratic, just a step away from hyperventilating as the creature stumbled his way toward you. Why had it dropped its weapon, didn't it want to kill you?

You felt your heart stop when it grabbed you. Its hands...his hands they were..fused? Some of the fingers connected together with sinewy flesh. Grotesque and large, but... familiarly warm. You stared, fear coursing through you as it pinned you to the wall. Not with the force you expected. Why wasn't it hurting you.

His laboured breathing rasped through the helmet as the metal creaked and whined. One of it's hands held you to the peeling wallpaper, splayed across your sternum, making your breathing slightly more difficult. As the other..started to touch you. Firmly tracing your body as you stared, glass eyed in shock. Your stomach felt sick. Here this creature was, manhandling you, groping at your skin and you couldn't stop thinking about-

"James.." you whimpered.

Without warning the creature leaned closer, replacing its hand with its chest, pressing into yours, metallic husk above your shoulder as its hands continued to roam. You could hear its panting echoing in your ear now, so close to you. Maybe this was for the best. Whatever it had in mind to do to you, you couldn't see it. You could just..pretend it was-

"J-ames" you breathed, your hands reaching to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging in.

You heard the creature groan, rumbling through it's chest and into yours. You pictured it in your mind, the only way you would make it through this. James holding you against the wall. His hands, not fused, as they roamed your body, setting your skin ablaze. Your nerves reacting to his rough touch. You whined as its- no his hands started to trail along your pants. You could hear him in your mind

"we shouldn't be doing this.." he would pant out, as his body betrayed his words. "I just..need you- need to touch you..god".

He was just as desperate as you were. Your body ached. Fuck you needed him so bad.

"Please..." you wheezed out, pressing yourself into the creatures hungry hands.

Another rumbling groan, it sent shivers down your spine.

Fabric ripping.

A shock of cold air across your sex.

Before thick, warm, warped fingers started to slip into you. Your body didn't resist as you gasped out, mouth agape as the creature started to work into you relentlessly. It was strong, just like he was, it only aided in your fantasy.

It was obscene. The noises your body made as the hulking figure rasped and panted against you. It didn't matter. In your mind it was him. Using his big hands as he whispered praises against your shoulder.

"Oh g-od..taking my fingers so well sweetheart" "gotta- fuck- gotta get you ready for m-e... i need you.. need to feel you- all of you".

You moaned his name shamelessly. There was no one to hear you.

The creature had started to rut against you. You could feel its cock against your hip. So fucking warm, even through the canvas. A metallic groan and a raspy whine.

" W..AN.T.."

You clamped down on its fingers, it had used its fused ones, filling you up.

"T-ake what you want" you panted against its skin. "Use me...how you need".

A growl reverberating as it removed its hand. You gasped out a breath.

Once.

Twice.

Before you felt the head of its cock spearing into you, ripping the air from your lungs in a choked scream. Him, think of him. No one else.

His breathy groans as he pressed his forehead against you shoulder, whining pants as he thrusted up into you wildly. So pent up.

"God...please-please..p-lease"

The creature shook with effort, the metal planes of its head scraping into the wall as it ravaged you. Its pace merciless. Its hands leaving a bruising grip on your hips as it fucked up into you. It stung, but fuck it felt so good.

You tried in vain to match its thrusts but you couldn't. There wasn't a rythm, a pattern, it was animalistic.

Tears began to stream down your face anew as you felt a familiar heat coil in your stomach, wrapping around the base of your spine. Too much, but you couldn't get enough.

"P..LE..AS..E.." the creature rumbled, drawing the syllables out in a low whine.

Your mouth hung open, the force ripping the moans and air out of you each time it rammed its body into you. It didn't matter if it was only copying the words you had said, your mind was too far gone at this point. Every movement bringing you closer.

"That's i-it" you manged to breath out. "Just use m-e."

Your legs started to shake as you clamped down on him. Imagining James. Crying out his name as the coil finally snapped and you vision went white.

Your scream echoed through the halls as the creature roared.

It shuddered against your limp body as you felt it drip out of you, onto the carpet below. The peeling wallpaper sticking into your back where your shirt had ridden up. All you could hear was creaking metal and ragged breaths as you felt yourself fade from consciousness.

You awoke again, feeling air moving around you. Your hearing was muffled as you realized your face was pressed against something. An arm as you were being carried. You could barely make it out.

"-'ve got you, its okay now, its okay."

James.

He held onto you, rushing you back to the safety of the room. Your mind was hazy as you blearily looked up at him. Panic across his features.

"You're gonna be okay, you're safe now."

Ajsbsjdbdh my contribution to the monster fucking community yall thanks so much for all your support ily🫶

[avatarena]

I have so (!) many ideas for swanqueen fanfics, but troubles writing them down. I can't find the time, the motivation, the encouragement, a beta nor the belief in myself that I can write, and, especially, finish them.

I will now post a few ideas here, see if anyone's interested in a particular one, maybe that'll give me some motivation 🥰

1) Takes place a few years after season 6, in this one, season 7 did not happen and Hook didn't come back after being abducted, leaving Emma to believe that he really left her. She and Regina are besties but on Regina's 45th birthday, a moment of weakness changes things between them. Henry, off at college, tries to get them back to being friends via phone calls, but naturally, things are now different between them. (friendship, romance, fluff, family, coming to terms)

2) No set time, probably also after s6 with s7 not being canon, Emma and Regina are in a relationship, but every time they try to be intimate, Regina panics. After six months of being patient, Emma brings up the idea to see a sex therapist (this might be totally stolen from Sex Education, great show), and off they drive to be therapized, definitely not prepared for what comes to the surface. (romance but also heavy themes of SA, repressed memories, etc. This would be very hard to write but I am intrigued)

3) During season 6, after she kisses wish-Robin, Regina notices something about herself and does a little research on the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Thus, she finds that, thanks to the split from the Evil Queen, she's also split her sexuality - and it seems she's now only interested in women. Thinking that this is now her new reality, she comes out to friends and family, but Emma, the most important person she needs acceptance from, does not react the way she expects her to react. (friendship and romance with heavy themes of internalised homophobia, which will be resolved, of course)

4) Emma is getting married and asks no one else but Regina to be her bridesmaid, who, of course, can't deny her that wish. She does what a bridesmaid is supposed to do, helps her pick a dress and plans the bachelorette party, but then leaves during said party. Emma, who doesn't want to celebrate without her best friend, goes after her. Unresolved feelings come to the surface, leaving Emma back with the searing need to call off the wedding. (romance, friendship, hurt, fluff)

5) When Robin gets stabbed in Camelot, Emma chooses not to heal him, too afraid to give into power and the darkness. This changes everything between them, but necessarily not in a bad way. This story would take place in Storybrooke, after Camelot, but there would be no memory loss and Emma is still trying not to be evil - which doesn't always work. (hurt, romance, themes of loss and guilt)

6) AU. Regina is the leader and singer of a heavy rock band, Emma is their new manager, but has no clue how to manage nor how to deal with the feelings she has for the attractive singer of this band. While she juggles being a single mother and dealing with the broken relationship with her parents, she discovers many good and less good sides about the beautiful dark-haired, that make her only want her more. (music/band AU, romance, drama, themes of SA and dementia, depression, cheating)

Tell me your thoughts! 🥹🫶🏻

[h7jfangirl]

WONDERLAND KING!JEKYLL AU IDEA

IM PROBABILY BEING DELUSIONAL BUT HEAR ME OUT

So, we know that Alice exist in tgs universe, she is a ringmaster of a circus with the wonderland fellas as her sidekicks, she appears in chapter 9 and 15

So, WONDERLAND EXISTS in tgs

And also, with this fact, i was listening to this song that is a fan-made song made by Lydia The Bard;

She has a whole series of videos where she sings and compuse villain songs of alternative evil version of the princess (Female main characters) of Disney. Every songs has their own animatic to ilustrate the idea of this particular escenario where for what reason or another the princess became evil, villains This animatic was made by @lazyeule

(If you dont want to see the video); In this alternative story, Alice is being taking over by the mad forces of Wonderland, she loses her own mind and the senses of self until the point she transforms into the personification of wonderland itself (The real queen of wonderland) and goes to attack the normal world, her once called ¨home¨

So the idea its that this happens to Jekyll

No Hyde, but Jekyll

Imagine this; For some reason, Jekyll and Hyde end up getting lose in wonderland, and so they spend the whole day trying to find a way to return back London. In the way, Jekyll and Hyde can completely seperate from each other (Wonderland its capable to make Hyde have his own body) and so they both decide to go by seperate ways (THEY ARE FREE FROM THE OTHER, YEI!!!). While Edward starts to have a hard time in Wonderland, it seems like Henry its getting to much comfortable in this place... a little bit to much. He starts to change and he is noticing this, sometimes he finds him feeling to joyful or delusional and acting wild and cruel with others! it feels similar like when he used to be Hyde, but thats impossible because he is no longer inside him anymore! unless... something else took his place

But its not like another identity like Hyde was, but these urges and desires, he hears voices everywhere who tells him things and for some reason he often can´t resist them at all, not matter how much he tries to fight them, in the end he is convince to do so and actually find enjoyment in that, a thing that in the moments when he goes back to sanity he finds scary and regretful. And worse, its like the place itself leads him into that way, giving the perfect chances for him to lose control over himself and let it be with no consequences, and full control over others

It seems like Wonderland has chosen Henry

There is a point where Henry gets finally consumed by Wonderland, his view of the world has change and now has the ability to change others at his will, so Henry goes back home and invades all London, why? to change the world as the one he desires, a world where mad science its accepted completely as it its, where Hyde its no longer a part of him, where he dosent have to worry of being evil, and no one cant say anything about him and Robert

Or couse, Alice would help to get Henry back to normal, apperently Wonderland need a host that could take over so its madness would finally expand to other realms, it tried to do it with Alice and failed... it tried with Jekyll and succeded