#and pull the hunter up to the second level of a building or something

[nururu]

I love it when I do my job as a Norton main and assist the kiter so they can get some distance, and then the kiter just leaves me behind to take over... as if Norton can run for more than 5 seconds without wheezing and hacking up a lung.... you're going to bet everyones lives on the guy with coal miners lung? the thing is, is no... they're not..... they're just mad bc I did my job(kiters hate being assisted) and now they're using me as a sacrifice...... the woes of playing a character notoriously hated in rank.

[justletmesmokeandsleep]

Is this what you read about?

GHOSTFACE!RHEA RIPLEY X READER

Summary: rhea takes you to an abandoned library as a surprise date, with another little surprise in store

Warnings: rough sex, strap on, name calling (mami, baby, angel, darling, slut), slight spanking, mask kink, knife play

Let me know if I missed any!!

"Rhea, where the hell are we?" You say as you pull into a dark parking lot. About an hour ago rhea came up to your shared bedroom and stated she was taking you on a date. You got dressed in a cozy sweater and grey skirt with some patterned tights and loafers. You had been sitting in the passenger seat, reading your newest book, when you looked up.

"Just a little spot I caught wind of" Rhea states with her signature devilish smirk. She parks the car and you both get out. As your walking to the front of this building you catch glimpse of a sign that reads 'north orange branch library'. You remembered reading about this, the library was shut down a few months ago and had been completely abandoned since, though it still seemed to be in pretty good shape.

You reach the door right as rhea unlocks it, not bothering to question how she got the key as you walk inside. You walk through the lobby and as you're standing near the front desk you realize the whole place was practically untouched. Shelves and shelves of books, dvds, magazines, and even computers. As you're standing there you hear footsteps approaching behind you, instantly recognizing the sound of your girlfriends boots

The footsteps come to a stop directly behind you. You can feel her body heat from how close she is. Just as you're about to say something you hear her speak.

"Run."

She states simply. You're confused "what?" You question, nearly laughing. You're about to turn to look at her when you feel a cold steel blade against your throat. You gasp at the feeling on the metal against your skin

"I said run."

The raven haired woman removes the knife from your throat and without a second thought you run through the library. The mix of fear and arousal fueling your every bound. You rush part rows and rows of books, looking for a hiding spot. You finally spot a desk nestled nicely in a far corner of the library, you scoot the chair out enough to wedge yourself under the desk. Once you believe yourself to be well hidden you shed your sweater, leaving you in your undershirt, and start to try and listen, straining your ears attempting to hear the footsteps of your hunter.

And then you finally hear the heavy footsteps of combat boots on the thick carpet, and they're close by. Your breathing picks up and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the breathing. The footsteps, your trying desperately to hear them again, figure out where she could be. You finally hear something "gotcha." The familiar aussie accent echos through your ears as the chair in front of you is abruptly pulled away. You were found. You had choice to make and you had to make it fast, so before rhea could get you in her grasp you duck under the side of the desk and take off down another row of books.

You turn to see if the tall woman was following you and to your surprise when you glance back you're not met with the stunningly crystal blue eyes you're used to but instead the black ones of a ghostface mask. You gasp at the sight and stumble backwards, falling right onto the floor. Watching in an intoxiacating mix of shock, fear, and arousal as her masked figure stalked towards you. Still on the floor you start to crawl backwards until your back hits a bookshelf "nowhere to run now, pretty girl" you hear the tattooed figure announce as she places down her bag.

Your breathing quickens as the tall figure reaches you and squats to your level. She brings the sharp blade to your face, trailing the sharp tip of the knife from your ear to the corner of your lips. Not sharp enough to cut but sharp enough to feel the scratch. She then places the blade at your throat like before, you can't help but gasp and squirm slightly as cold steel contacts your skin. You hear a dark chuckle from rhea as she turns the knife, now using the side of the blade to tilt your head upwards to make eye contact with her. Or with the mask.

"Such a little slut for mami, aren't you?" You let out a slight whimper at her words, she trails the tip of the knife from your throat to your shoulder. Your eyes shut and you continue to breathe heavily as the cool blade glides against your skin. "I asked you a question and I suggest you answer, sweet girl" still trying to regulate your breathing, you don't register her words until you feel the sting of the blade leaving a small slash into your upper arm. You moan in a mix of pain and pleasure at the sensation. "I said answer me." She states sternly, you look up at her "Yes mami" you respond. Her body relaxed at your words, satisfied at the answer.

She leans back slightly, retracting the knife from you skin as she does so. She looks at you for a moment, deciding her next move. "Off" she states gesturing to the grey tank top you had been wearing. You take a second to register the words but quickly do as she says, not wanting another lick of the knife, kicking off your shoes in the process. She admires you for a bit longer before leaning back into, placing the knife back at your throat. She leans in more, slipping a hand behind you, at the base of your spine. You gasp slightly and arch your back into her, she let's out another dark chuckle. Her hand slowly travels up your spine to your bra clasp, snapping it open easily. You let the straps fall down your shoulders and arms before tossing it to the side with your shirt

She looks down, admiring you. "Such a pretty little angel" she says before moving the knife again. She trails the sharp tip down the center of your chest before turning it sideways and pressing the side of the blade against your nipple. You groan and arch into the cold sensation. She then continues trailing the knife around your body, she appears to be following the knife with her eyed but you couldn't tell with the mask. "Please" you half whimper, "Please what, baby? Gotta use your words angel" she responds without missing a beat. You take a breath before continuing your plead, "Please can I see you, mami?" She halts her movements. "You wanna see mami?" She asks as she stands and turns to walk away, you sit there confused until she continues, "you're gonna have to come earn it." She unbuttons and slides off her black jeans and hops onto a near by table, you sit there, dumbfounded and admiring her. "Come here, angel" she says, and pats the inside of her thigh. You finally get up, slightly shaking, and walk over to her. You're standing maybe a foot away from her face, awaiting your next command. "C'mon baby, on your knees"

You drop to your knees without hesitation, you look up at her and she moves her hand to the back of your head. "You know what to do, be a good girl." You move your eyes to her clothed core, placing a gentle kiss against the fabric, causing rhea to gasp slightly, before tugging her panties down her legs and discarding them with the rest of the clothes. "Fuck" you mumble under your breath, even in the dim light of the library you can see her wetness glistening. She applies a slight pressure to the back of your head and you waste no time following her silent command. You dip your tongue down to her entrance, sliding through her folds and up to her clit. You feel her grip your hair tighten as you repeat your movements, she tilts her head back. You can tell she's trying to keep herself together. You move your tongue up to slowly circle her clit, she let's out a drawn out groan. You continue your circles, slowly but surely increasing your pace. "Cmon baby you can go a little harder for mami" she states in a tone clearly telling you she put of breath. You smile slightly knowing that your the one making her lose her composure like this. As you continue your circles on her clit you push your tongue into her harder than before. "Oh fuck! Just like that angel!" She nearly screams as her thighs close around your head, but your movements never falter, determined to make her cum on your tongue. And with just a few more flicks of your tongue she releases with strained whine, clearly biting her lip under the mask.

You pull back and look up at her catching her breath. Having gained some confidence you ask "did I earn my reward mami?" She chuckles darkly before replying, "not quite, darling, now let's see how much of a good girl you can be." She then stands and lifts you on to the table as if you weighed nothing. You then watch as she walks over to where her bag was place, pulling out her favorite deep purple strap. You continue to admire her as she adjusts the harness around her hips. "Like what you see, pretty girl?" She chuckles. "Mhm" is all you can manage as she makes her way over to you. She makes it to you and flips you over on the table, having you now on your stomach. You gasp at the quickness of her actions and watch as her hand moves to grab the knife laying on the table. Next thing you know the blade is being dragged up the the back of you thighs. You can feel the way the nylon of you tights stretches to try and follow the blade as trails closer to your ass. She reaches the hem of your underwear and you feel a small prick along with hearing the sound of tearing fabric as she cuts through your tights and through the back of your underwear, leaving the perfect rip in the fabrics for her to fuck you.

Her hand moves to your hair, leaving soothing scratches, it's only then that your realize how quickly you had been breathing. She let's you catch your breath for a second before taking the tip of the strap and rubbing it up and down your newly exposed slit, you let a loud gasp at the touch and lean your head back into the hand still resting on your scalp. She repeated this movement until you where whimper under her, "Please...rhea" you breath out only to be answered with a sharp smack to your ass. "You know better, baby, try again" she states as she continues her movements. "Please mami" you correct "please fuck me".

You finally feel her slide the tip of the strap into you, "good girl" she moans out as if she were truly entering you. You gasp at the fullness and reach one hand out to grip the end of the table, the other is folded under your chin. Once she bottoms out she gives you bit to adjust before moving, but the moment she does you let out a moan of pure pleasure before pushing your face into your arm to silence yourself. Apon noticing this rhea grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your hair back as her quickly goes for slow and gentle to fast and rough, "If I wanted you to be quite I would have told you too, now don't hide your pretty noises from me, okay darling?" At this point her rough pace has your eyes rolled to the back of your head with your mouth dropped open in a silent scream but you manage to pull yourself together to whimper out a "Yes mami". She releases your hair from her grip but continues her rough treatment of your cunt, both hands gripping your hips as she thrusts in and out of you.

She’s so rough with you that tears start to brim in your eyes and soon enough your gasping for breath while moaning and screaming for her. Unable to focus on anything but her strap and the way it stretches and fills you with every thrust. “Mami” you moan out to her, “yes, what is it darling?” She asks, already knowing what your about to say. “I’m so close mami please can I cum for you?" You plead in a rather pathetic manner, but you’re too fucked out to care. She then rather abruptly pulls out of you, flipping you over onto your back, pulling the mask off and tossing it to the side. “I want to look into your eyes while you come for me, okay baby?” She wastes no time and thrusts the strap back into you, “okay mami” you manage to whine out between gasps me moans. The pleasure is to overwhelming to keep your eyes open and you allow them to slip closed, only to be met with rheas firm grip around your throat. “I said I wanted to look into your eyes, angel, now open them before I stop” not needing anymore warning other than that you snap your eyes open. You are instantly met with rheas beautiful crystal blue eyes, her face red and flushed from the heat of the mask, her hair that was neatly pulled back now has strands falling into her face. The look of her alone could’ve been enough to make you cum but that plus the feeling of her relentlessly pounding into you throws you violently over the edge. You cry out her name as you cum around her strap, still not breaking eye contact, no matter how much your eyes wanted to close.

You simply lay there a moment, catching your breath before rhea pulls some wet wipes from her bag to clean you up. Once you are both redressed you walk out of the library together and you sleep the whole drive home.

Thank you everyone for reading and I am once again so sorry for the wait, I hope it was a good read cause I’ve never really written something like this before ❤️

[namelessgakusei]

Extra EP. 4.3 Rabbiting

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread.

EP. 4.2 Faith and Inhibition (prev.)

EP. 5.1 Wrong ways to use a sword (cont.)

Synopsis: The amulet's signal led DARKCOM to a run-down apartment building. Mary's values get tested.

A few hours before your plane was destroyed, back at the highway where the White Rabbit's group attacked, DARKCOM members lay dead across the asphalt.

"It's impossible." Sentry's voice trembles as she assesses the damage left from the demons' wake. Rubble filled the road, vehicles were turned over haphazardly, smoke and the stench of metal filled the air, blood splatters from the dead bodies caught in the crossfire. It was a sickening sight in broad daylight.

"We're demon hunters." Patriot grunts as he tightens the bandage around his injured leg. He sighed, wistful, as if it weren't for his lieutenant, he would've died then and there. "Getting killed by the impossible's an everyday hazard."

Sentry seems to take it differently, frustratedly motioning to the chaos. "This time is different!" Her voice faltered for a second due to not being able to stomach the scene around her. "We have no recorded cases of any demon higher than Type 2!" She throws her hands in the air before clutching her hair, pulling at it as she stresses about the possibilities in her mind. Patriot comes over and gently pries it off, shushing her frantic mumblings and smoothing out her hair. "These demons... What they could do..." Her head slowly turned to the hole left by the Rabbit when they fled, large enough to cover the highway and affect the other roads around them.

Sentry collects herself and sighs. "Their power level marks them as Type 4s."

"The real question is," Another person joins in, it's King, as he walks up to them, looking displeased. "Where's this apocalypse at, huh?"

Patriot tilted his head, not following what his comrade had to say. "Whatcha mean?"

"The Rabbit has Sparda's sword and both halves of the amulet." King explains with furrowed brows, mirroring the expression of the man before him. "That's everything it needs to blow our world wide open."

"So what's stopping him from opening the gates?"

"You can ask him yourself." Lieutenant Arkham walks towards her team, with Ninja trailing behind her, holding a tracker that beeps faintly in her hand. "The amulet stopped a few miles north." Besides Dante, Arkham also placed something on his necklace, as another insurance. While she can't track him anymore, at least her team could get back the amulet.

"Grab what you need, we leave in 50." Lieutenant Arkham commands the remaining DARKCOM members as they scurry away to salvage what remains of their equipment. Meanwhile, Anders remains on the side of the road, collapsed on the ground. while clutching his bandaged shoulder. "I admit I had my doubts about you." She cocks a gun, alarming the man before her.

But she only smiled, proud and full of admiration. "But the way you charged in to take the Rabbit on solo..." Lieutenant Arkham offers a hand to help up. "You've got some elite-sized balls. Can you stand?"

Relieved that his cover wasn't blown yet, Anders assures her that he can and will be able to fight, despite the obvious strain on his face. But, even as he took her hand, the body trauma that he experienced rendered him unable to move as much. "Maybe just a little longer."

Seeing that the soldier can't fight, Lieutenant Arkham insists that he stays behind as she calls for evac, and another soldier walks up to them, offering to take Anders' place in hunting the Rabbit. It was one of the lower ranking DARKCOM soldiers, those involved in this mission only to act as decoys, but got dragged into this mess instead. The determination in his eyes is what convinced her to give him a weapon before going over to brief the others about their current objective.

Those same eyes met with Anders' as it morphed into something red.

The signal leads to an unfinished apartment complex, long abandoned with remnants of the construction still lying around. What remains of the DARKCOM soldiers flanked the entrance, led by Lieutenant Arkham, charged inside, finding the first floor empty, devoid of anything living. While her team remains confused about the situation, the Lady procured the tracker and concluded that the amulet must be at the top floor along with the White Rabbit. But with their current numbers, despite their weaponry and experience, is not enough for the uncertainty that lies ahead. Ninja had called for backup at Arkham's request and notified her that they're at least four minutes away, but with the pressure of Earth's fate being at the hands of a demon bunny, time is running out.

"We go in now!" Arkham orders everyone to take the stairs and stay sharp, before going deeper inside the building and leading the charge. "We have to be ready for any kind of fucked up demon bull—"

The sound of a large metal door falling to the ground and shutting everyone in echoed loudly at the first floor, instilling fear to every DARKCOM member as they became shrouded in pure darkness. "—shit." Arkham curses under her breath. It's a trap.

After the initial panic, a few soldiers tried to contact the headquarters for help after donning night vision goggles, but the signal's jammed, effectively leaving them helpless inside. Suddenly, the White Rabbit's voice booms from the darkness, making everyone turn their weapons at the source of the sound. "Attention all residents!"

But the voice is everywhere, confusing the soldiers on where to attack. "A terrorist group known as "DARKCOM" has just entered the building." Arkham swivels to a pillar, seeing nothing, and slowly raises her gun above, where a speaker lies. It's littered all over the walls and pillars, echoing the Rabbit's voice like a mockery to their current predicament.

"Their intentions are extremely hostile."

"I'm not asking you to fight them."

"I'm simply encouraging it." Faint sounds of locks clicking in place are heard coming from the second floor after that sentence. With the confirmation that there are others inside the building, a small number of DARKCOM members started examining the doors to find a means to escape, only for their equipment to be useless against the enforced metal.

"Anyone caught engaging with them in a friendly or neutral manner will be subject to immediate execution." Realization that they're on the Rabbit's mercy dawns to them.

"Have a great day!"

Despite King's worries about the kind of creatures the residents are, Arkham insists that the mission hasn't changed. They all get to the top floor, get the amulet, and get out. However they can. A moment of silence went through before Ninja spoke up. "We're with you. Let's move." She signals for the others who were nearly petrified at their positions. While the special unit of DARKCOM is here, they also have soldiers who weren't that skilled with them, making the masked Ninja worry over their safety.

The group marches forward, each holding their weapons and guarding the others' six as they follow their lieutenant. A faint slither is moving from the vents but no one seems to notice over Sentry's monologue about the technology used to dampen the communication lines. "What kind of demon did this?"

"One slightly worse than your usual landlord." Patriot quips, making her roll her eyes before it widened upon the sudden pain from her stomach. Sentry drops her gun, the sound echoing in the silence, bringing attention to her position.

A knight looking demon impaled her with his sword.

Blood gushed out of Sentry's stomach as she was lifted in the air. "An energy sword..." She croaked before coughing out blood, smiling wryly. "How... fascinating." The demon kicks her body off of his weapon, sending her corpse flying to a wall, leaving a bloody trail as she tumbles to the ground. The shock lasted for a split second before Ninja screams for open fire.

A mix of lead and anti-demon bullets rained on the demon, who used his wings as a makeshift shield before lunging towards the nearby soldiers, cutting their bodies in half. The DARKCOM's forces slowly gets cut down as their comrades get one by one, adding to that, another demon seems to be nearby.

Vines snatched up their weapons, leaving them defenseless in front of the knight demon, as a plant-like serpent bellows from the ceiling. Multiple vines shot from the demon and speared through the unfortunate soldiers who weren't able to dodge in time, further cutting down their numbers. Even as Arkham shoots at it, it only protected itself with its "petals" before shooting at her with more vines. Ninja threw shurikens to cut them down before it could hit her lieutenant, only for her to become its new target, sending huge thorns her way.

Unable to dodge the incoming projectiles, she could only turn around and curl to herself, hoping for some of them to miss. But the pain didn't come. Looking back, her face contorted to horror upon seeing that King shielded her with his body, taking the hit for himself. "I..."

More soldiers die around them as Patriot holds off the demon knight due to the rest of his squad getting stunned from how fast every single one of them gets taken out. Unfortunately, he ran out of bullets midway, making him resort to close combat with a sword. The demon knight didn't gave him any chance to do so, however, and cut off his arm before he could even draw his weapon. Patriot dies after getting kicked to the wall, landing right beside Sentry's corpse.

Meanwhile, King was carefully laid on the floor while Ninja sobs, pleading for him to hold on. "No... Stay with me... Please!" But before he could reply, his body convulsed before bleeding out from his eyes and going still, sending her into a breakdown. The serpent demon finally revealed herself, aiming for an easy kill on Ninja, only to get barraged with bullets from Arkham to protect her only remaining teammate. Dodging every vine, she was about to land a clean shot if not for a sneak attack that sent her flying to a wall, letting go of her weapon as a vine wrapped itself around her neck. Left choking, she couldn't warn Ninja that the knight demon was behind her when her teammate aimed a gun at the demoness to avenge her lover, leading to another death. "Yes, watch them die." The snake demon slithered towards the horrified Arkham, who struggles against the vine around her neck.

"After all, it was you who marched them straight into our warm embrace." A particularly sharp vine caressed her face before retreating to spear at her head, fortunately, Arkham kicked the wall to dodge the plant, extending a hand to signal her gun back to her, shooting at the demoness and freeing herself in the process. Slamming the button of an elevator, she shoots at the knight demon who rushes to her as the elevator closes, leaving a large dent to the door but effectively fleeing from the scene as the only survivor.

Light passes through the gap of the door, indicating that the lift was moving upwards, but the lone passenger couldn't care less. Arkham is slumped to the floor, panting as flashbacks of her team's deaths replays in her mind. Sentry. King. Patriot. Ninja. And the rest of the soldiers that came with them. Arkham groans, sweat building up on her face. Vice President Baines was right. She's too impatient and can't see the whole picture. She led the charge and didn't wait for back-up. She led everyone to their deaths, and now...

Only she remains.

Arkham took one last sigh and composed herself, changing magazines and ensuring she had enough to last until she got to the rooftop. The mission hasn't changed. She needs to get the amulet even if she has to die doing so.

The elevator stops and pings, signaling her stop. There's no one in the hallway, making it easier to navigate the building. What she failed to take into account is that there will be traps laid around in case intruders come to the residential floors. Purple smoke released itself from the ceiling just a bit after she got out of the lift, forcing chemicals in her system. Coughing, the lady hadn't made it to the corner yet and she's already getting sluggish. This was a mistake on her part, now she's even more handicapped. "Shit..."

The lady slammed a door open, one leading to a flight of stairs, but her body is still acting from the earlier trap. Her sight is tinted red, and her head is throbbing like someone hit her with a blunt object, on top of it all, she's having severe hallucinations. Like how she's seeing her father right now, mouth bloody like how he looked like when he ate her mother, making her flee upstairs in fear.

The illusions got worse, as the moment she opened the door to the next floor, the corpses of her team crawled towards her, blaming her for their deaths. "You killed us... just like you killed—"

"No!" Arkham cried as she ran away, hiding in a spare room that was thankfully open. The serpent demon appears behind her, lunging for an attack, making the lady shoot her in both fear and reflex, only to end up as another hallucination. Her bullet tore holes to another door inside the room, revealing light on the other side, and upon opening, it was her father's study.

A man turns around, smiling at her appearance, with a look of love on his face. "Mary."

"Dad?"

"Look at what you've done." The scene changed from a well kept office to being engulfed in fire, as her father's skin slowly melted from his body. Mary screams as she falls from the floor as her father bares his teeth towards her.

Mary curls to herself as the pain from her fall, alongside her headache from the hallucinogen, became too much for her to handle. In her blurry vision, she could see the demon knight sauntering towards her quivering body, looking down at her sorry state. "This isn't real. You're not real..." She insists, groaning as she tries to sit up, glaring at the demon who lifted his sword in the air to strike at her.

It was the glint that convinced her to dodge, jumping out of the way as the sword made contact with the floor, reducing it to dust. "You're real." Mary aims and shoots the demon, fleeing the moment he shielded himself with his wings. Disregarding the hallucinations, she took haphazard turns to every corner, bent on losing him in the maze of corridors. But she soon reaches a dead end, with only one door in front of her and the danger of running into the demon behind, Mary opted to gamble that the room in front of her is open.

It isn't.

Mary bangs at the door and tries the handle again, before resorting to aiming her gun at the lock, praying that the demon knight won't pick up the sound. Thankfully, before she could shoot, the door opened and the resident inside shoos her away, but Arkham insists that there is nowhere to go. "I know the Rabbit threatened you, has everyone here hostage, but there is a demon right behind me."

The hooded man examines her appearance and lands his eyes on the DARKCOM insignia on her chest, averting his eyes and starts to close the door. "You're with those soldiers. We don't want any trouble..."

"There are no more soldiers!" Mary pleads, desperate even. "The demons killed them all. It's just me. Please."

The man relents. "Quickly."

A moment later, the demon knight knocks at their door, commanding them to open it. He interrogates the man in demonic language, but Mary's benefactor shook his head, taking off his hood, revealing his horns and pointed ears. She gasps silently in horror upon realizing who she got herself involved with.

The demon knight inspected the room, destroying areas where he thought Mary could be hiding, skipping the lockers where she's currently at, readying her gun just in case; but she was never found and the demon left. The man who helped her sighed as his family collapsed on the floor from fear, before opening the locker and pleading for her to leave, only to get a gun pointed at his head. "Please, just go and leave us—"

The man backs away, looking betrayed and scared. "We risked everything to protect you! Now you turn your gun on us?!" But Mary isn't listening, closing in on him while keeping her gun steady. "We want nothing from you. Just leave, please!"

"Your friends slaughtered my team!" She retorts, angry and in pain due to the hallucinations acting up, making her see them as monstrous. But they only blinked at her in surprise. "You think we're with... with them?"

"She's a sapien." The man's wife, clutching their children, scowls. "Of course she thinks all demons are the same."

Mary looks unconvinced, but was willing to hear them out at least, asking the family why they are here if they're not with the White Rabbit. They replied that they needed a way out of their world, Makai, or what it's commonly known in Earth, Hell; and the White Rabbit provided it. They claim that it's a desolate place, unsuited for life with its toxic atmosphere, adding to the fact that the strong also preys on the weak. "Only the strongest Makaians can stand to love normally."

The wife looks down and pulls her children closer. "For those like us..."

"The air itself is poison." The man looks away, clutching his fists as he remembers their former lives. "Children barely survive their first year. We couldn't accept that fate."

Mary scoffs. "Weak-ass sob story."

Her statement made the family swivel in her direction, offended on top of being scared, as she demands an explanation on how the White Rabbit got demons into Earth. The husband explains that it was due to a device the latter built, saying that the White Rabbit suddenly appeared with it a year ago, offering passage to Earth for anyone who wanted. Many families like them came, mostly for their children's sake and the promise of better living conditions in another world. "Then we realized, there is no better world for us."

The wife looks up at Mary with defiance, saying that the humans despise and fear their kind, and that they can never mix openly with them due to that. She said that they have no choice but to stay in hiding, doing whatever the Rabbit says for survival, and turning blind eye to his experiments. This falters a bit of Mary's apprehension as she inquires more about the Rabbit's actions, only for it to be revealed that he experiments on orphaned Makaians.

"All we're trying to do is survive. Like you." The man pleads once again, hoping to get through the soldier, and Mary's vision of them turned from monsters to actual people. "I know better than to trust the words of a demon," She grits her teeth, but lowers her weapon.

"But after everything that happened, maybe I don't actually know shit."

Lieutenant Mary Arkham walks towards the door, stopping shortly before she could reach for the handle. "My backup should be outside by now."

"I'll find a way to get them in, and then I'm going Rabbit Hunting." The man's eyes widened in both fear and uncertainty, but Mary turned to him with an expression devoid of discrimination. "I'll make sure you're protected."

She then turns to his wife and children. "You and the other..."

"Families."

Mary nods before pushing the door open and running off.

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie @flwerie @deathrye @that-dumb-bitch @sleepykittycx @sidewalkenforcer @devil-might-sob @sophrickingfunny

[strawberriesinbloom]

Fairy Light Flurries

Zayne/Gender-Neutral Reader

Summary: You pick Zayne up from work and relax in your apartment together. Unfortunately for Zayne, your mischievous tendencies can be a bit distracting.

Word Count: 4,098

A/N: Hello, @ticklygiggles!! I was your @squealing-santa this year. :) I hope you enjoy this silly little fic.

This is a tickle fic btw!

~🍓~

As you stood near the front entrance of Akso Hospital, you stared at your phone, spamming your favorite doctor with several text messages to announce your presence. You knew Zayne wouldn’t answer your messages for a while, even though his shift ended a few minutes ago. He was a hard worker, which you admired about him.

A cold breeze cut through the air, and you shivered, drawing your coat closer to your body. Tiny snow flurries scattered throughout the air, dusting your wool hat with white snowflakes. Some of them caught onto your eyelashes. You blinked them away.

Downtown was quite pretty during this time of year. Fairy lights were strung along the buildings, emitting a warm, yellow glow. Some were multi-colored, and others had lights that changed color each second. Red, green, and white banners and garlands wrapped around the light poles.

It was quiet out here save for the occasional sound of a car passing through. You supposed most people didn’t want to be outside when it was so cold. Another breeze passed through. You didn’t blame them.

Your phone buzzed.

You didn’t even get to read the notification before a soft, deep voice sighed behind you.

“You could have waited inside of the lobby, you know?” Zayne shook his head as he stepped closer to you. Snow crunched under his shoes. “Or my office.” He wore a large, brown jacket over his outfit. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

You laughed. “Yeah, but this is more romantic, isn’t it?” You held out your arms to your sides. “The snow. The lights. It’s so pretty out here. I couldn’t help it.”

Zayne puckered his lips. If you didn’t know better, you would have said it almost looked like he was pouting. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He readjusted your hat, making sure it covered your ears. “I can’t believe the Hunters Association is forcing you to work during the holidays.”

“I could say the same thing for you,” you said, pulling at his scarf. Not expecting you to do that, Zayne took an awkward step forward. You evened out the ends before forming a loop and tying it up, so it held closer against his neck. You smiled at his surprised expression and pinched his cheek.

“I chose to work this week,” he said quietly.

“Me too.”

Zayne shot you a quiet smile. You both were workaholics, practically married to your respective jobs. Despite the surface-level differences, you and Zayne were very much alike–at least in that regard.

“Come,” he said, jerking his head to the side. “I’ll drive you home.”

You took his hand as he led you to his car. Zayne always parked in the same spot, so you didn’t need him to lead you, but you just wanted an excuse to hold his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hands were still surprisingly warm. How did he manage that?

“Home?” you repeated with a snort. “Do you mean yours or mine?”

Zayne hummed as he opened the passenger side of the door. You sat inside, shivering when your body came in contact with the leather seats. “Your choice,” he said. He closed the door and entered the driver’s side, swiftly starting the car.

You tapped your index finger against your lip. “Mine,” you answered after a while. “I want you to stay the night.”

“Sounds good,” Zayne said as he drove out of the parking lot.

A few minutes into the drive, you rested your chin against your palm. The colorful lights seemed to blur into one as you passed by. You were tempted to press your cheek against the window, but you knew it would be freezing, so you held yourself back.

“How was work?” you asked, simply wanting to fill the air with something. It didn’t matter what you and Zayne talked about. You just liked being with him.

Zayne took a moment to respond, as though he was recalling what happened today. “It was fine,” he finally said.

You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “That’s it?”

Zayne shrugged. “Not every day can be as interesting as yours.” The hint of a laugh tinged the end of his sentence. “How was work for you?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much,” you said while straightening your posture. “I just saved a mother and daughter from a Wanderer attack.” You flexed your muscles. “No biggie.”

“My hero,” Zayne said. For a second, you thought he was being sarcastic, but his tone sounded strangely sincere.

Unsure what to do with this change in atmosphere, you stared at your lap. “I like waiting for you when you’re done with work,” you said quietly, changing the subject. You knew it was a sudden shift, but you didn’t know what else to say. “It’s the favorite part of my day.”

“Mine too,” Zayne answered.

“Really?” you asked with a slight chuckle.

Zayne spared you a singular glance. Your heart skipped a beat. “Yes, really,” he said. You smiled warmly. You were about to say something else when Zayne interrupted. “We’re here.”

You perked up. “We are?” You looked around and, indeed, you and Zayne were in the parking lot of your apartment complex. “Wow, that was fast.”

Zayne laughed in response. “How time flies.” He stepped out of the car.

Before he could open the passenger door for you, you stepped out and slammed the door shut. Zayne didn’t respond but you did catch him frowning slightly. You stopped his chance to be a gentleman. Hopefully, he didn’t mind too much. You skipped over to him and grabbed his arm as you walked over to your apartment.

There wasn’t any snow or ice on the pavement. The road crew must have come earlier to salt the streets and parking lots. That was good. You wouldn’t have to worry about Zayne slipping and falling. You knew his fancy dress shoes weren’t built for this weather unlike your sturdy boots.

The heat hit you at full blast the second you entered the lobby. It felt comforting–like someone wrapping a large, fluffy blanket around your body.

“I have some spare pajamas in the guest room,” you explained, making your way over to the elevator. “You can take those.” The doors opened with a ding and you stepped inside.

Zayne smiled as he pressed the button to your floor. “They’re my size?”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s always good to be prepared.” You shook your shoulders. “I learned that from a certain doctor.” When the elevator opened, you stepped out and walked over to your room.

The moment you unlocked it and stepped inside, Zayne leaned over and hugged you. You nestled your nose into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. He smelled like peppermint, and his skin felt smooth to the touch. You kissed his jaw, and Zayne pressed his lips against your cheek. While you wouldn’t call Zayne shy per se, he was definitely the type to be reserved when it came to public displays of affection. It was cute.

“I missed you,” he muttered against your skin.

You giggled and tried to pull away. He pulled you back into his embrace for a few more seconds until he finally let you go. His hands lingered on your upper arms as his thumbs softly caressed you.

“Me too,” you said. With a split second of hesitation, Zayne pulled back to start unbuttoning his jacket. You tugged his sleeve. “Wait, let me get that for you.” He stilled, and you helped him peel off his jacket. You hung it on the coat rack next to the front door with a short flourish.

Taking a quick peek in his pockets, you noticed he had one of those hand-warming packets in there. That sneaky doctor. No wonder his hands were so warm earlier. You wondered if he did that on purpose, knowing you would try to hold his hand. Zayne’s thoughtfulness always made your lips curve into a small, appreciative grin. He tried to be subtle with these things, but you knew how much he truly cared for you.

“Thank you,” Zayne said as he untied his scarf and placed it next to his jacket on the rack.

“Go get changed,” you said. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

Zayne nodded and went to the guest room. You stepped into your bedroom to change into your nightwear before heading to the kitchen and opening the last cabinet on the right. Way in the back was the matching snowman mugs you got for the both of you last year. They were meant to be used for special occasions, and sharing a warm drink in your abode counted, at least, in your opinion.

A part of you wanted to make hot chocolate from scratch, but after the long day of work you had, the mere thought of it made you want to pass out. You had to settle for the instant packet stuff instead.

It didn’t take long for you to prepare the mugs of hot chocolate considering how all you had to do was microwave some milk and stir in the powder. Zayne came up from behind you while you were in the middle of stirring. He had changed fairly quickly. The light blue pajama set suited him. He placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You should add a pinch of sugar in mine,” Zayne said. He pressed the side of his head against your ear. You could hear him swallow at the end of his sentence.

“Sugar?” you repeated. “This is the powder stuff. It’s already sweet,” you clarified, thinking that Zayne would see the error in his ways.

Zayne glanced at the open box of instant hot chocolate on the counter. “I know,” he said. “It’s just a pinch.”

You should have known. Zayne’s proclivity for sweets had no bounds. Just as he asked, you added a spoonful of sugar to his mug (and then another when he gave you puppy dog eyes). He would have denied it if asked directly, but you knew what he was like.

With your mugs of hot chocolate, you and Zayne sat in the living room. “Do you have any preferences?” you asked as you picked up the remote. You turned on the television and scrolled through the wide array of movies.

“Not particularly,” he said, sipping on his drink.

“Alright.”

You played a random holiday movie that was featured on the front page of the streaming platform. From its summary, it seemed like a decent watch: a meet-cute romance between a hunter and a businessman. Apparently, the hunter teaches the businessman about the magic of the holidays. You settled next to Zayne once the music began to play. He lazily laid his arm around your back.

The beginning of the movie was cute, but your mind began to wander halfway through. As the movie droned on, your eyelids started to droop down. All your hours spent awake working and saving the day were beginning to catch up to you. You were almost finished with your drink by now.

Placing your mug on the coffee table, you leaned into Zayne’s side. He hummed and set down his mug next to yours before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and lying down, dragging you down with him.

“What?” you asked as you awkwardly fell over him. You shuffled around until you were lying down on his side, pressed against him and the back pillow of the couch.

Zayne kissed the top of your head. “You’re feeling tired, are you not?” The gentle drum of his heartbeat almost lulled you directly to sleep. He lowered his voice, so it was barely above a whisper. “You can sleep. Don’t worry.”

You turned your head to the side, nuzzling your nose against his chest. “Okay,” you said with a yawn. “Tell me how the movie ends.”

You hugged his side, your arm worming underneath the small of his back. You sighed as the movie became nothing more than background noise. The rise and fall of Zayne’s chest kept you steady. Every so often, his breath tickled your cheeks. You smiled, your fingers flexing against his back.

Zayne stiffened, and you raised your head slightly. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Zayne said, petting the top of your head. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered into your ear.

“Are you sure?” you asked. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You tried to pull your arm from underneath him, but it was stuck–pinned against the couch by his weight.

Zayne squirmed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s just…” Zayne stopped when he saw your expression. You weren’t going to let this go, and he knew it. Zayne bit his lip, his ears suddenly flushing red. “It just tickles. A bit.”

You propped yourself up on your other arm. “Does it?” Experimentally, you curled your fingers, watching in awe as Zayne arched his back. That allowed you to pry your arm from under him. He gave you a pleading expression–like he was begging you to drop your discovery, but how could you?

“Please–” Zayne said, cutting himself off when you clasped his side and squeezed it. “I’m not th–that ticklish…” He bit his bottom lip as you dragged your nails over his stomach. His abs tensed under your feather-light touch. “…so you caha–!!”

Zayne gasped as you suddenly launched your attack across his stomach just above his belly button. He scrunched up his nose, refusing to laugh. He was always so stubborn. You moved over, so you were now sitting on his lap.

“I think you’re more than ‘a bit’ ticklish,” you said.

His lips were caught in an awkward half-smile that he was desperately trying to keep at bay. Zayne grabbed your wrists, temporarily stopping your pursuits. “Don’t you want to finish the movie?” he asked with the tiniest bit of desperation at the edge of his voice. His fingertips quivered against your skin. Even though you weren’t tickling him anymore, he was still trembling.

“This is much more interesting than some movie.” You pulled your hands out of his grip and latched onto his hips. Zayne bucked up on instinct, and you laughed as he almost bounced you into the air. “Wouldn’t you agree?” You massaged the skin, taking care to dig deeper at the spots that made him jerk especially hard.

His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to stop himself from succumbing to your touch, but you were far, far too powerful. “I–ehehehmhm…” Zayne giggled breathily. It was satisfying to see him break albeit a little. He seemed to be at a loss for words, his cheeks dusting a light pink. His smile, now much wider, wobbled slightly.

Zayne was still trying to half-heartedly stop your devious hands, but it felt more like a kitten pawing at your arms than anything else. You wondered if that was his way of allowing you to keep going. Surely if he genuinely wanted you to stop, he would have put his foot down by now. Alas, Zayne was putty in your hands. You were one of his few weaknesses.

Your fingers slowly wandered up his torso as they made their way to his ribs. Zayne jumped, clamping his arms to his sides. This seemed to be a much more sensitive area, which you took to your full advantage. “Is this a bad spot, Dr. Zayne?” you asked in a light-hearted tone. “Are you too ticklish for your own good?” You clawed at the soft skin in between the grooves of his ribs.

If you were particularly evil, you might have even tried to tickle him underneath his shirt, but you were feeling a little merciful today.

Zayne squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly no longer able to look at you. “Behehe quiehehet!” he suddenly cackled. “Dohohon’t tickle me there! Eheheh!” He grabbed at your upper arms but didn’t try too much to stop you. Even though you were nowhere near his hips, they still jerked and flinched with every new spot you explored.

“So I can tickle you somewhere else, then?” you teased.

“Nohoho!” he gasped out. Zayne turned his head from side to side as he attempted to wiggle out from underneath you. It was no use, however. You were simply too determined. “Stahahap!”

His laughter was deep and almost husky, peppered with the occasional gasp or winded yelp. It was beautiful. Zayne twitched and jumped with each poke and prod. He was so sensitive. It enamored you. You wished Zayne would laugh like this more often. The sound needed to be captured in a bottle and tossed out to the sea for everyone to have a chance to hear.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayne,” you said softly.

You wondered what Zayne would have said if you weren’t tickling the life out of him. He tossed his head back and cackled when you started digging your fingers deep into the soft fleshy parts of his sides. “Ahahahaha! I–I cahahan’t–!” He squealed, squirming from side to side. “I cahan’t tahahahahake it anymore!” Zayne tried to curl up into a ball, but he couldn’t do that with you sitting on his legs.

“Do that again!” you said, trying to elicit that same squeaky squeal. You dragged your nails up and down his sides, but you weren’t as lucky this time. Oh well.

“This ihihihis too muhuhuch!” Zayne managed to giggle out. He kicked his legs out from underneath you, but you held yourself steady. “Hhh…ehehey!” His shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of rosy pale skin. A slight sheen of sweat glistened against his toned stomach, and you realized that you were, indeed, evil. Very evil.

You targeted his exposed skin. Your fingertips immediately latched onto his bare stomach, tickling him there. His muscles flexed instinctively underneath your touch. You dug your thumbs into his soft warm skin, and he jumped. The way his stomach shuddered with each gasp of breath in between wild laughter made you want him more. You could simply devour him.

Not wanting to go too far, you slowed down. Now, you were lightly dragging your fingers up and down the sides of his stomach. “I like hearing your laughter,” you said quietly, “It’s lovely.” You were barely speaking above a murmur, so you weren’t sure if he could hear you much less understand your words.

“Hehehmmhmm…” Tiny droplets of tears clung to Zayne’s eyelashes, sparkling under the soft overhead light. It took him a moment to realize what you just said, but when he did, Zayne flushed a nice shade of red. His cheeks twitched as residual snickers spilled past his lips. “Thank you,” he mumbled awkwardly. You didn’t blame him. It was an odd compliment considering the circumstances. It was nice seeing him all embarrassed. Zayne shifted slightly, staring off to the side. “I uhahahAHAHA!”

Unfortunately, that little moment of peace had to come to an end because you were once again overcome with the same ruthless mood that started this mess. You began tickling his armpits. He flinched–hard. It didn’t take long for you to find a spot at the very center of his underarms that made him cackle. Your thumbs drilled directly into his armpits, and you snickered at the way he jolted.

“Whoa,” you said in between your own giggles.

“WAHAHAIT!” he practically screamed. “Not thehehehere! Nohot thehereee…!” Zayne managed to flip himself over on his side even though you had been sitting on his legs. Huh. You sat on your knees, hovering over his lower body. He crossed his arms to his chest, effectively blocking you from tickling him. “Ehehehe,” he giggled.

“Come on, please, Zayne?” you asked. “Just five more minutes?” You tried to lift his arm, but he wouldn’t budge.

“No,” Zayne said, slightly out of breath.

You puckered your lips. “What? You can’t handle a little bit of tickling?” You poked down the length of his arm with each word. “Are you too ticklish?”

He shivered. “I’m not–” Zayne began to protest before he thought better of it. He puffed out his cheeks and corrected himself. “I’m not that ticklish.”

You pressed your index finger into his cheek. “I beg to differ.”

“Be quiet.”

You chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute,” Zayne repeated under his breath. “That isn’t a word most people would use to describe me.”

“Well, most people don’t know you the way I do.”

Brushing his bangs out of the way, you leaned down and kissed his temple. His forehead was a bit damp. Probably from sweat. Oops.

Zayne closed his eyes and nodded. Then, to your surprise, he lifted his arm. “Five more minutes,” he said quietly. He glanced at you for a brief second before diverting his attention elsewhere. His ears were redder than you had ever seen them.

You blinked. You blinked again. You were tempted to scoop Zayne in a hug and kiss him repeatedly, but you couldn’t waste this opportunity. Your heart pounded in your chest. Who knew when you would get this chance again?

You reached over and–

Zayne flinched, bringing his arm down before you got close to his underarm. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered under his breath. He repositioned himself, so he was lying down on his back, again.

“I’m surprised most people don’t call you cute,” you said, pinning his arm above his head. “They’re really missing out on this side of you.”

You lightly dragged the tips of your nails around his underarm, and Zayne’s body went rigid. He bit the inside of his cheek to probably stop himself from breaking into laughter right away, but the way he puckered his lips and scrunched up his face told you everything you needed to know.

Zayne let out an odd, strangled hum, and you knew he was done for. “Aha–ahAHAhaha!” He hiccuped before his laughter softened into sweet giggles.

“Aw, you’re so–”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence because of Zayne’s abrupt cackle when you started clawing at his armpit. “Eeehehahh…HAHA!”

“That was a weird noise,” you said. You prodded at his sensitive skin, wiggling and swirling your thumbs against it as much as you could.

“Shhhehehahaha…shut uhuhuhp!” His free arm lightly batted away at you, but you didn’t let that deter you.

You puckered your lips into a fake pout. “Seriously, Zayne? How rude.” You dug your fingers into his armpit.

You loosened your grip on Zayne’s arm, and it immediately came crashing down, pressing it up against himself. You took this as an opportunity to tickle his other underarm, as well. You quickly spidered your fingers, targeting any spot you could manage.

“AHAHA! Wahahait! Wahait!” The corners of Zayne’s eyes crinkled as he tossed his head to the side, filling the room with the melodious sound of his laughter. “St-stahaHAHAP! I cahahan’t take it! I’m seriOUS! Hahaha!”

Zayne grabbed your hands, prying you off of him. Deciding to be nice, you stopped. You stole a quick kiss from his lips, which was still quirked up in a wide, sappy grin. He sighed as his chest heaved up and down. His chest trembled while he tried to catch his breath.

“You good?” you asked.

Zayne nodded breathlessly. His fingers twitched at his sides. For a moment, you thought he was going to exact his revenge before he grabbed your shoulders. He pulled you down, and you clumsily fell on him with a soft gasp. He liked doing this to you, didn’t he?

“Don’t tease me anymore,” he said into your ear. His voice was slightly weak with just a hint of a pant. He pulled you into a hug, embracing you with two strong arms. “I don’t think I will be able to handle it tonight.” His warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear. You shivered.

You smiled against his collarbone. “I’ll try not to,” you said, cuddling him. “No promises, though.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Hmm…love you, Zayne,” you whispered into his shirt.

“I love you, too.” He kissed your forehead.

You closed your eyes with a small, content sigh. Zayne’s warmth and peppermint fragrance soothed you. His steady breathing slowed down into long, deep exhales. His chest rose and fell against you, bringing your head up and down with him. You hummed. The witty reply in the back of your mind soon dissipated into nothing but flurries and fairy lights.

Somewhere in the background, the movie finished with the two romantic leads caught in a passionate kiss outside in the snow.

[paradoxicalli]

Geminislay in Gotham Part 2: The murderer is a friendly cottage core bookworm

“I dont know, she seems pretty chill to me.” 

Bruce pinched his nose. “Jason, she killed five people.” 

“In self defense!” 

“She beheaded a man, Todd.” 

“You gotta admit, it was a clean cut.” 

“…tch.” 

Tim tipped back his coffee. They’d looked at the footage extensively, and it only brought more questions. 

“So we have a ‘not meta’ girl named Geminislay who killed four men in twenty seconds.” Barbra said through a speaker. 

Yep. Just their luck. 

“She’s unpredictable and prone to violence without remorse. As of right now, she is to be considered armed and dangerous.” said Bruce. 

Tim paused. “Like… normal armed and dangerous for Gotham, or actually armed and dangerous?” 

Tim could tell Bruce was holding back a sigh. 

“Initiate standard Unknown Meta in Gotham Protocol. I want all of you researching her identity and weaknesses. She is a threat until we are fully aware of her abilities and how powerful she is.” 

“Perfect.” Jason said, “Sounds like a problem for the Day shift.” 

—————————

This was not the kind of interdimensional travel that Gem signed up for. 

For one thing, she couldnt leave. There was a blank space where the ‘SAVE AND QUIT’ button was supposed to be. And for another, she didnt even sign up for this in the first place! 

But now she was here, in a random hardcore city that was beautifully constructed. She was glad that the sun was rising, the moonlight didnt do the intricately carved gargoyles justice. 

A growing pain behind her eyes distracted her from her admirations. She took half a heart of damage, then a full heart. Alarmingly, the wither-like damage sped up when she faced the sun. 

Oh right, there are only nights in Phasmophobia. Ghost hunters dont exist during the day. 

Gem slipped into a hiding spot and changed to her normal skin. The pounding pain in her head immediately disappeared. She ate a piece of bread to get her health back. That solved one problem. The other problem (aside from being ��kidnapped by another universe) was that she was going to run out of food eventually. But, she didnt have to worry about that if she got home before then. 

Okay think. I have no idea how I got here. 

Gem thought back to what happened. She was building when she felt something pull her out of her world. She had blinked, it went dark, and- 

Gem gasped out loud. 

And she had seen a flash of purple. Gem probably would’ve been more cognizant of that, but she had been a bit busy being held at gunpoint and fighting for her life at the time. 

Gem didnt know the exact shade of purple, but she knew that Portal + Purple + Dimension Antics = Watcher. Not good. Gem wasnt connected to the Watcher Lore, which meant she was stuck here for the foreseeable future. 

Yeah, no. She’s not having that. Gem had been right in the middle of detailing her build when she was rudely removed from reality. No way was she going to let it be uneven just because she ceased to exist in that world! What kind of builder would that make her!? 

Certainly not the kind of builder who made the Crystal Cliffs. Gem had bound Xornoth to a crystal and hatched a freaking dragon egg. How hard could it be to rip a hole through the universe? 

—————————

There were a number of reasons that Duke liked working the Day shift. 

The most annoying edge lord rogues come out at night, and therefore aren’t his problem. He was able to maintain Bat level stealth without the cover of darkness. And he really liked having a normal sleep schedule. 

He did not like the sheer amount of shit the Night shift managed to get into while he was out. 

Duke woke up before dawn to patrol before school and see what the Night shift left him with. Apparently, whatever it was this time was so bad that he needed to be briefed on it. 

Duke stood next to Tim, who for some reason was glaring intensely at a piece of bread. Duke quietly pushed a day old coffee cup away from Tim; he really needed to sleep more. 

“Signal.” 

“Batman.” 

“Red Robin encountered a meta-human with shapeshifting abilities.”

Batman pulled up a video from Tim’s suit cam that showed him running towards a fighter that looked more like a red and black blur. 

“She’s killed five people with three different weapons.” 

Duke gave a low whistle at a trident throw that would’ve delighted Aquaman if he had seen it. 

Tim spoke up. “She can be reasoned with, though. And she was very alarmed that I only have one heart.” 

Silence. 

“Apparently, she has ten.”

Duke raised an eyebrow. “Not meta my ass. I gotta head out, but I’ll see what I can find.” 

He got a total of four steps away before he was interrupted. 

“Duke.” He turned back, because he knew that really meant ‘Wait’

Bruce hesitated. 

“…she’s armed and dangerous.” Which really meant ‘Please be careful’  

“She’s an unknown meta, and a threat to Gotham.” And that… that meant exactly what it sounded like. 

Duke nodded and left, ignoring the weird feeling in his chest. His gaze turned down as a single thought ran through his head. 

You say that about every meta-human. 

—————————

Well, Duke hadn’t found anyone with an outfit that matched the three photos, but the red head walking down the road below him was definitely weird. He focused his vision. Sure enough, different outfit, same face, and a bright yellow flower in her hair. 

He had to remind himself that this was an easily provoked killer, but it was a bit difficult when she was smiling up at the gothic architecture with a little pep in her step. Everything about her screamed ‘Mug me now please!’ 

Maybe that’s why Duke decided to go up to her alone. He would probably have to save some poor mugger from her eventually. 

If Duke could gain her trust, this would get a lot easier. He melted into the shadow of the building and resurfaced in the alleyway. He casually stepped out and nearly bumped into her. 

“Oh!” She jumped back. A sword flashed into her hand for a split second, then it was gone. “Jeeze man! You scared me.” She said as she smiled at him. 

Not inherently violent after all. Duke laughed and put his hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, I really didnt mean to. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, its just that…” she paused. “Would you happen to know where a library is?” 

Huh? Doesn’t matter, act helpful. “Yeah, I can walk you there.”

“Oh my gosh, thanks. I really need to look something up.” 

Now I can be inquisitive. “Nice, are you researching for a project or something? 

Her pitch went up. “Ummmm yeah, you could call it that.” 

She dodged the question, but I’m on the clock. Move on. “Are you from out of town?” 

“Definitely. Imma be honest with you man, I have no idea where I am.” 

Well what do you know, the dangerous meta is a lot friendlier when she’s not held at gunpoint. 

Duke smiled. “Welcome to Gotham city.” 

“Gotham? What the- who named this place?” 

“Some edgy billionaire? I don’t know, I just live here. How long are you staying?” 

She sighed. “A while.”

“Oh. Are you here for work or…?” 

“I’m here because somebody decided to make my life miserable.” 

Interesting, go for empathetic. “Well that kinda sucks. Do you need help with anything?” 

“Um,” she thought for a moment, “actually, how much do you know about magic?” 

That is not something he wanted to hear. “Not a lot, why?” 

“No reason. Do you know anyone who does?” 

“You know that magic isn’t real, right?” 

“Uh huh. Totally.” She said with a bright smile. “Oh, are we here?” 

They were standing in front of the library. “Yeah, I hope you find whatever you’re looking for. 

“Me too.” She said wistfully. 

Establish continued communication.“Here’s my number, if you need anything else.”

“Oh, thanks!” 

“By the way, what’s your name?” 

“I’m Gem.” 

“Signal. Nice to meet you.” 

Duke realized something. “You’ll have to wait a bit, the doors are locked until-“ 

“That wont be an issue!” Gem chirped, She pulled an axe into existence, slammed it down on the door, and waltzed into the library before casually returning the door to its hinges like nothing happened. 

What the fuck!? 

PART 1: Is it really murder if they started it? https://www.tumblr.com/paradoxicalli/786030415065530368/geminislay-in-gotham-part-1?source=share

[theink-stainedfolk]

Phantom Class

Snippet 1

---

The world blurred around Aleksi as the rift continued to expand, its energy rippling outward in waves that warped the air and sent tremors through the ground. Emergency sirens wailed in the distance, but they were drowned out by the relentless howls of monsters pouring out of the breach. The streets, once filled with panicked civilians, were now littered with overturned vehicles, shattered glass, and craters where buildings had once stood.

Aleksi adjusted the straps of his disaster management pack, pretending not to notice the chaos around him as he darted into an alley. He pulled out his communicator and keyed into the emergency channel, his voice steady despite the situation. “Sector 7 is cleared of civilians. I’m moving to assist with structural containment.”

The reply crackled back immediately. “Roger that. Be advised, additional hunters have arrived to assist with the breach.”

He muttered a faint acknowledgment and slipped the communicator back into his pocket. He didn’t care about the hunters—he just needed to ensure the civilians were safe before things escalated further. Yet, even as he moved toward the next danger zone, he felt it—a shift in the air, an overwhelming presence that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Aleksi froze mid-step and turned his head slowly, instinct taking over. There, emerging from the thinning veil of rift energy, was a massive creature, easily three stories tall. Its body glowed faintly, etched with strange runes pulsing in a rhythm that seemed alive. Its jagged maw opened wide, revealing rows of crystalline teeth that vibrated with an unearthly hum. The ground beneath it cracked with every step, and the few remaining hunters in the vicinity scrambled to coordinate an attack.

Aleksi pressed himself against the wall, narrowing his eyes as he watched. “Too soon,” he muttered under his breath. The creature wasn’t fully materialized yet—its form flickered at the edges, unstable. A premature attack could destabilize it further and make things worse. But no one else seemed to notice, their desperation clouding their judgment.

“Get back!” a voice shouted nearby.

Aleksi glanced up to see a group of hunters advancing on the creature, led by a man who seemed unfazed by its towering size. The man moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his weapon slung casually across his back. Aleksi recognized him instantly—Cha Si-on, the S-Class prodigy from South Korea.

“Idiots,” Aleksi muttered, stepping deeper into the shadows as he watched the scene unfold.

Si-on stopped a few meters away from the creature, his posture relaxed as though he were facing a mildly annoying inconvenience rather than a monster capable of leveling the city. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” he said, addressing the beast as if it could understand him.

The monster roared in response, the sound deafening as it shook the nearby buildings. But Si-on only grinned, unsheathing his blade in a fluid motion. The weapon was massive, its surface etched with intricate patterns that glowed faintly in the rift’s light.

The hunters behind him hesitated, clearly unsure whether to advance or retreat. “What are you doing?” one of them called out. “We need a coordinated attack!”

Si-on didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he launched himself forward with astonishing speed, closing the gap between himself and the creature in seconds. His blade cut through the air with a whistle, slicing cleanly into one of the monster’s legs. The creature screamed in rage, lashing out with a clawed limb, but Si-on moved like water, dodging effortlessly as he delivered another strike.

Aleski couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration—Si-on’s movements were precise, calculated, almost too perfect. But as the battle raged on, something shifted. The monster began to stabilize, its flickering form solidifying as it absorbed the energy from the rift.

“Damn it,” Aleksi muttered under his breath.

He stepped out of the shadows just as the creature reared back, its runes glowing brighter than ever. The hunters shouted warnings, but it was too late—the monster unleashed a wave of energy that blasted through the area, sending debris flying.

Aleksi reacted instinctively, raising his arm to shield his face as he sprinted toward a group of hunters pinned beneath a collapsed wall. He reached them in seconds, using his strength to lift the debris just enough for them to crawl out.

“Move!” he barked, his voice sharp.

The hunters scrambled to safety, barely sparing him a glance as they retreated. Aleksi turned back to the battlefield, his gaze locking onto Si-on, who had somehow managed to stay on his feet despite the blast. The prodigy looked unfazed, but Aleksi noticed the faint tension in his stance—the subtle shift of someone who realized they’d underestimated their opponent.

“Hey!” Si-on’s voice cut through the chaos, his sharp gaze landing directly on Aleksi.

For a moment, Aleksi froze, caught in the intensity of that stare. Si-on’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

“You,” he said, pointing his blade toward Aleksi. “You’re not just a disaster worker, are you?”

Aleksi clenched his jaw, his heart pounding. “Now’s not the time for games,” he said curtly, turning away.

But Si-on wasn’t having it. “Funny,” he called after him. “I think this is exactly the time.”

Aleksi didn’t respond. He couldn’t afford to. Not when the rift was still growing, and the real danger had yet to reveal itself.

---

My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @keeping-writing-frosty @oliolioxenfreewrites @vesanal @dauntlessdraupadi

[sabrondabrainrot]

I finished the 87 series as a whole (except the European vacay season like I can't find it anywhere) and want to cry!!! My boys!!! I can't believe it's done!!!

What an awesome show. I might have to rewatch it just to write down more notes and thoughts. ;)

Anyways here's some headcanons about my sweet 87 boys and some show observations:

Hopefully with this people might give the show a chance. It's so delightful and charming. You won't be disappointed.

🐢🧡🐢💜🐢♥️🐢💙

The turtles are all basically 3-4 years old. They make tons of comments about living half their lives in a fish bowl and when Yoshi comes across them they're still babies. When they're shown mutating, they go from baby turtles to the older bipedal forms we know them by.

They're all identical sans their voices. (In the 87 show not only does April have trouble telling them apart at the beginning but so do the animators in every episode)

They all seem to possess super strength and some levels of invulnerability. Donatello in particular had a multiple story brick building dropped on him, which he just walked off. They've all shown varying skills such as bending metal with their bare hands. Raphael as a practical joke in one episode picks up a couch and hurls it at Donatello just to be smartass. Leonardo cuts metal like tinfoil.

They still think of themselves as turtles first and foremost, so they don't refer to each other as brothers. (despite the fact they're totally brothers) and simply address each other as friends. (They're brothers tho we all know the truth 💕)

Something not explained in the opening of the 3rd season, the turtles as babies, before they mutate, are shown with different shell patterns. While it's not obvious which turtle is which it is neat the artists went out of their way to animate each turtle with a unique pattern.

When you watch the show the amount of people and mutants that dislike the turtles is shocking. For a fun kids show made in the late 80's to mid 90's, it's basically a huge allegory to the civil rights movements and you can even take relevance to human rights movements of today.

Despite being so lovable they have only a small circle of friends. Most of those friends at some point have betrayed them too.

The boys have seen two different futures of themselves. (not counting their shared apocalypse nightmares) The first future is where they get old together in a mansion and they're heralded as heroes and everyone likes them. The second future doesn't show them but in the second future it's stated being a mutant is a crime punishable by death and all mutants are criminals regardless of deeds. This is before the red skies studio era of writing. That's before it's supposed to get edgy.

They all are highly intelligent. They can each pilot every vehicle ever present in the show despite none of them having a formal education, license, or understanding of the rules of the road. Michelangelo in particular seems to have a knack for US fighter jets.

In season 7 episode 11, titled "Dirk Savage: Mutant Hunter!" We meet two new mutants named Rahzar and Tokka. They're a gay couple. You don't believe me? Go watch the episode. I'm not pulling your leg. I swear. I promise. It's a good episode go watch it.

Master Splinter calls them his sons. He also calls Carter, his newest student, son occasionally too. It's his term of endearment.

The turtles in this version are known to get sick pretty regularly. (probably because of their still developing immune systems). They always get sick as a group and they totally soak up the pampering.

They in the first season share a 4 stack bunk bed and then after the bunk is destroyed in the season 1 finale they each get their own alcoves which they treat as their own rooms.

I didn't remember which Punk Frog said it, but one of them called Leonard and Michelangelo his Bubba which is a term of endearment for brother. The punk frogs call each other bubba too. So unlike the turtles they were either all frog brothers who mutated together or after mutating they just decided they're brothers and they also adopted the turtles as their brothers too.

Mondo Gecko seems older in this series because of his appearance but he's the same age as the turtles and actually mutated from the same ooze as them on the same day at the same time so he in 87 is like a mix of their brother and cousin? He's related regardless. (We all know the truth in our hearts)

Shredder and Krang act like a married couple who've been married too long and are on the cusp of a divorce but they've been together too long so they just keep tolerating eachother.

They all love the unhinged gross unholy pizza combos. Michaelangelo's stated combos are actually tame compared to some of the things they've eaten. One episode the boys committed to the bit so hard they ate lit candles just to mess with Michelangelo. They get pregnant sardine fudge pizza cravings at midnight. They put cereal on regular pizza for breakfast. They hate vegetables though. They literally gag when Splinter eats sushi. They refuse to eat bugs despite their turtle origins (interesting enough the Punk Frogs don't even like pizza at all first unlike them) but like they will eat out of the garbage. But not fresh handmade sushi.

They're so casual about being in public. Like they have disguises but sometimes they just go out in public as themselves. They also have so many elaborate disguises. In the first episode their first instinct to blend in was to throw on bright neon shoes, various bomber jackets, and start publicly beatboxing and breakdancing.

The turtles get called slurs by Shredder, Bebop, and Rocksteady. The slur in question is "Shellback" . When Donatello makes an evil clone the first thing the clone does is call him that slur. It's so funny like that's yourself. Donatello basically called himself ugly. Why is that so funny.

Shredders go to threat in the show and many other villains go to insult is to straight up threaten to eat them. Like, do none of the villains care about getting salmonella? Why do all the villains want to eat them?

Something I've noticed, they refuse to use nicknames. They only use each other's full names. It makes me wonder why? I theorize it's probably to do with the fact Master Splinter gave them their names and that's the first thing they received? It's not like they're not playful enough to use nicknames.

Despite his fatherly role in their lives, the turtle boys don't call Splinter their father and this is more than likely to do with the fact they see themselves as turtles and know they have turtle parents. (Again we know the truth)

April in this show is an adrenaline junky. She's also a child endangerer. She's helped save the day a lot but she would much rather the world burn so she can film it as her next big scoop.

The boys treat April like their mom in this show. April herself doesn't really get that. In one episode she got poison flowers and thought it was from the boys and went to "let them down gently" because she thought they romantically liked her.

April on multiple occasions reads bed time stories to them. She in one episode read the same bedtime story 4 times just because they liked it that much. She was going to read it a 5th time just for Leonardo.

When Zack, the 5th turtle, was in danger instead of helping him April shouted "What a scoop!" and filmed a child in a death trap.

Splinter believes in wholesome gaslighting in this show. He once cured three of them of permanent balloon-itis with moth balls but made up a story about how it was an ancient mythical legendary cure. Then after they were better he said it was moth balls.

April actually got fired from her job because she wouldn't badmouth the turtles on live television (also for other reasons). She focused on freelance while helping the boys on the side.

April is really bamf. She's actually saved the turtles just as much as they save her.

I just want everyone to know I love these little guys. The turtles are pure little snookie pookie baby bookies. No one knows the amount of space these silly little fictional turtles take up in my heart.

I hope maybe with more word out people might give the 1987 tmnt show a chance. It's really cute and funny. A super enjoyable time. It doesn't deserve the ragging it gets from other shows and fanbases. They're just goobers.

Thanks for reading my ramble list. :)

Also! if there's any fanfic recs please let me know I'm making a list and checking it twice ;)

[sonicasura]

Okay, sure a boobytrapped glacier was one thing. But where was the level of genius to build a functioning rock wall door that could open and close when it came to defending Berk? Especially one that could tell when someone wasn’t pulling the two “keys” in sync! Hamish the second was decisively shaping up to be more Hiccup ancestor than Stoick-esc one despite having a jacked body build.

Dart wonder if Hiccup himself would get any ideas from the traps set up here. The Omniverse knows that the village itself had varying stages of development. Functional if medieval prosthetics yet very very poor hygiene, blech. Scattershot remained perched even as the rock walk closed behind the group.

—————————

‘I take back everything nice I thought about Hamish the second, he built a death trap!’

The still-a-terrible-terror kept firing off small blasts of fire to ward off the Fireworm dragons. Not even the subtle scan confirming a new transformation halted their efforts to defend Hiccup as he chose one of offered key pieces…

Only to then have to try to slow his fall as the floor itself gave out in addition to a rocks falling from the freaking roof! Terrible Terrors weren’t meant to carry a human larger than themselves!

They were left panting up a storm as Toothless thankfully caught both of them. Scattershot groaned on the Night Fury’s saddle, as Hiccup managed to land on a secondary cave chamber. The transformed teen ignored him petting them as he slid off to investigate something. Toothless gave a worried yet appreciative croon at them that they were too tired to fully translate. Viking were stubborn both ways.

————————

‘Having less muscle mass doesn’t necessarily equate having a sharper mind. The more diminutive form merely forces the individual in question to rely on reasoning over brute force.’

‘Not the point of this, Omnitrix...’

‘Fine, fine. It must be relieving for Hiccup to know he isn’t the only forward thinking Viking.’

‘Better.’

Hamish the second was a twig.

He also had a propensity for philosophy if the way his puzzles always ended up collapsing based on a choice was any indication! A fake freaking hill or collapsing a real one, leaving the treasure hunter safe and sound if the feather was chosen. Brain over brawn at its finest… if deadlier than normal. Scattershot let out a low warning hiss when someone tried to pick them up from resting on the remains of the puzzle.

Let almost asleep dragons lie!

—————————

After having the cause of all this repainted, Hiccup felt much better about his place in his village’s eyes. The young Viking knew now that his father valued him more than treasure—which made the sight that greeted them outside the Great Hall all the more surprising.

A majority of the golden statues and chests in Hamish the Second’s final test. Had been reclaimed and dragged until they were situated right outside the doors… Mud cake a majority of the things, but there was no hiding the gold.

In messy runic.

‘You dropped this… Consider the missing chest labor tax.’

(Pettily, Dart took one of the smaller chests full of gold coins back to their warren. A treasure hunt without actual treasure was okay—yet they knew the village could use the gold.)

—ROB’d Anon.

If Dart were a more greedy person, they would have absconded with all the treasure after excavating it using Clay-More. They aren’t.

Not even Dart can resist the draconic urge to horde gold or anything of value. I won't be surprised if Gobber says something about a shapeshifter. He does have a decent amount of superstitious amongst the vikings in the village. Plus Hiccup usually comes to him for advice especially on weird situations like this.

[hellhound5925]

One shot (that isn’t really a one shot) - Sargent Hunter

Warnings:

18+, It’s filth so enjoy accordingly. Dark smut? Mentions of being a victim.

Masquerade (Part Three)

Summary:

Wrapping up the night of her dreams Circe rides into night her knight in shining armor. Not much else to say about this one.

Thank you to my girlies for their help as usual 💖 Part Two linked here and Part One is linked in the second one.

Reminder: Dance Macabre by Ghost was the original inspo but now I’m feeling a little Hunters Moon and you’ll see why.

After being dragged out onto the street, Hunter stops for a moment and looks around.

"Whats the matter? Get a little lost?" I tease. He gives me a sided eye glare and huffs a sigh. An idea hits and I start to take me heels off.

"What are you doing?" confusion laced in his words.

"I can move faster without them and besides...." I grunt struggling to pull off the second one. "They aren't that comfortable" the shoe finally frees itself from my foot almost sending me tumbling over. Two strong arms catch me before I can actually fall. Hunters face is only inches from mine, his breath fans over my face.

"Thanks" I say under my breath. My eyes wonder his face, tracing the skull tattoo before stopping at his lips. At this distance it wouldn't take much to reach...

He lets go and we both collect ourselves for a moment. Taking the mask off my face, I gather my things into one hand before grabbing my dress with the other. I start walking off in one direction and realize he isn't following me.

"Are you coming?" I sass not really meaning to. Hunter hesitates for a moment before joining me.

Feeling bad for him I decide to make conversation "This must be a lot for you. All the noise...your senses are probably working overtime."

He signs and looks down at his feet before responding, "Sometimes it can be, yeah."

Letting go of my dress, I take his hand. "Well don't worry. Where we are going, it'll be quiet. Promise."

When he looks at me his eyes seem to sparkle under the walkway lighting. He gives my hand a light squeeze and my heart skips a beat.

We stroll for a while and make small talk to get to know each other more. I've interacted with him a few times before but solely on a professional level, things never got personal. The one thing I notice is he only seems to talk about his brothers...the other members of Clone Force 99.

"What about you though? You talk about your brothers so much. What about you?" I prod him a little hoping he will give me more.

"What do you mean?"

The clones have done so much for this galaxy whether they wanted to or not, the Sargent...a man...deserves at to want. I sigh trying to figure out how to word it, "I mean what does Sargent Hunter want?"

He thinks for a moment, "I've never really thought about that. We were bred for war and my job is to protect my men. That's all I know."

We walk in silence until we reach my apartment building. I take him up to the roof where its nice and quiet as promised. He follows me over to a small table with two chairs.

"I put this up here when I moved in. I like how quiet it is." I explain, setting my things on the table before sitting down. Hunter sits in the chair across from me, staring at the ground deep in thought.

"Everything okay Sargent?" I try to lighten the mood. "If it's something I've said, I'm sorry. I mean no offense but just curious is all."

He still doesn't look at me which worries me more, the war between his feelings - one he probably never thought existed - was written all over his face. Feeling like I ruined everything, I get down on ground in front of him and rest my hands on his knee, looking up at him. At this point he's forced to look at me and his expression changes back to the unwavering confidence of a Sargent. 

"You" he says like he's giving his men an order.

I'm even more confused, "Me, what?"

"I want you" the words fall from his lips and hit me square in the face. My heart begins to race and heat pooling in my core, as a smile spreads across his face. His words ring in my ears as I process the fact that this is really happening.

The moonlight bathing us in its bewitching glow, this moment is too perfect. It's everything a girl could have ever dreamed. The two of us sitting on the roof top staring into one another eyes and in this moment thats the only thing the matters. I reach for his face, the stubble a welcomed sensation under my palm.

"Then you'll have me."

Before I can even process whats happening his lips are crashing into mine, they are softer than I'd imagined. His tongue begs for entrance to my mouth and I welcome it with my own. The taste of him like a divine revelation, a start of a new chapter for both of us. Pulling me onto his lap, the warmth of his arms sending a rush of excitement through my veins. I make myself comfortable pressed completely against him, forcing him to lean back in the chair. His arousal makes itself known between my legs, creating a new desperation. I deepen the kiss to prevent a sound from escaping.

We break, foreheads pressed together and both panting from the lack of oxygen. My eyes flick down to his lips, they are stained with my lip stick. Huffing a small laugh, I lean back. Confusion plastered all over Hunters face, until I notice him look at my lips. Reaching up he gently, runs a thumb around the edge of my lips - probably from smeared lip stick. His hands return to their place on my hips. I take the time to delicately return the favor and watch as his facial expression turns to one of a starved man.

Leaning in, I kiss his neck which causes his chest to rumble with a low growl. I make my way back up to his ear and whisper,

"Make me yours."

His breath hitches in this throat, he's a complete mess like I was earlier in the night. "Are you sure?" He asks between heavy breaths.

Dragging my nose across his cheek - making sure to take my time - both hands firmly on his chest. Slowly I trail both hands down his torso, he inhales sharply and I can't help the lusty chuckle that graces us with its presence.

"I'm sure"

My hands find their way down to his waist, undoing his belt and carefully undoing his dress pants. The entire time neither of us dares break eye contact. He takes care, to adjust my dress in a such a way to not ruin it but allow him access to my center. One of his hands makes it was up to my shoulder gently tracing over my collarbone in such a way that I close my eyes in anguish. His other hand, tails up one of my tights before his fingers skillfully make themselves at home in my core.

Suddenly having removed his hand, I whimper at the cold. He adjusts himself before grabbing my hips and burying himself as far as he can inside me. I let out a sharp gasp and reach behind me squeezing what I can grab of his thighs, throwing my head back. Hunter lets out a deep lusty grunt that sends a wave of vibrations through him into me. Never in a million rotations could I have imagined the rapturous delight that flowed through my body at the hands of a man.

I’m so close to the edge, his slow and steady movements are almost painful. Throwing my arms around his shoulders pressing myself back into him and taking over. His hands slide down my hips to my thighs, grip tightening as he takes back control.

"Easy Meshl'a...I'm going to....m-make you mine" he grunts pulling me closer kissing and nipping at my collar bone. As he makes his way up my neck, to the spot behind my ear I can feel the marks starting to form.

Both of us so caught up in the moment that seems to end too soon. The two of us sit in silence, unmoving for a moment. I look up at the sky and notice the stars and moon are willing themselves to peer through the foggy sky. Hunter doesn't take his eyes off me, I can practically feel it.

The feeling of finally giving in and having had a sweet taste of intimacy with one another lingers. Covered in a thin layer of sweat and arousal, I’m left panting and heart beating so fast that it feels as though it might leap from my chest. Peaking together in our shared extract felt like a drug. I craved more… no I needed more. More touch, more kissing, more lust… It was the reward of my longing.

I meet his greedy gaze, greedy for me. Not being able to hold back any longer, the kissing and touching begin once again. Our cloths from the evening hurriedly piled on the ground. It all happened to fast, the cool night air was quite a surprise to my bare skin.

He effortlessly, stands from the chair with me still in his lap and places me on the table. I wrap my legs around his waist, trapping him there. Without much warning, he once again buries himself in my center, his thrusts into me hard and fast. I feel every inch of this mammoth size, making every part of me his. This time was different…this time it was selfish, greedy, and feral.

"You smell so incredibly mouth-watering when you're aroused" he grunts between pants and moans.

For a moment I find myself unable to speak, a response is on the tip of my tongue, yet I swallow it, far too engrossed in pure pleasure he sends burning through my veins. Hunters gaze glides over my body, hot and demanding, his hand grips my chin before his tongue again dominates your mouth, each velvety collision sends explosive fireworks racing through your body. He lets go of me for a brief moment taking a deep breath expelling it as his eyes meet mine, his pupils dilated to the point they resemble an animal with its prey in sight.

"Hu... oh Hunter" I cry out like the hopeless victim.

My whole abdomen trembles as his pace becomes more brutal, the intense feeling of being so close to our peaks is almost too much. Hunter rails into my dripping wet opening greedily my lust filled cries only encourage him. Inhailing our scents deeply, he closes his eyes briefly and lets out an animalistic groan.

“Fuck mesh'la, You feel so good around me."

I feel his pelvis slap harshly against me again and again, naked skin against naked skin, a glistening layer of salty sweat coats our skin.  The speed he fucks me at, his regal voice send my body over the edge, I come undone for him, coating this throbbing cock in my juices. Pure white hot liquid pleasure surges through my veins, my vision clouded with all the stars in the galaxy. I shake and shudder underneath him moaning and cursing in my native tongue.

"Hunter!...Osi’kyr (Oh shit)!"

I feel the force of his blaster calloused hands grip down onto my hips once again, knowing I will be bruised from this encounter. He half swallows a moan as his pace now becoming irregular, the base of his cock swelling inside of me smacking against my cervix. Every nerve ending in my body feels on fire. My sounds are not my own as he finally spills his warm seed inside of me, we grip onto each other as he fucks me savagely through our highs. Seeing the Sargent fall apart like that for me was completely exquisite.

Hunter rasped a breathy moan as he softened inside me pulling out slowly, once more he presses his forehead to mine nuzzling my face and kissed me sweetly on my temple.

“Now you’re mine” he whispers between panted breaths.

Taglist: @cloneloverrrrr @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @idoubleswearimawriter

@savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @jediknightjana @techs-goggles9902 @clonethirstingisreal

[tlgtw]

Aside fromsoft, are there any fantasy game settings/stories you're into?

Like what was the first game that pulled you in and before you realized you were checking dialogue for inconsistencies?

Zoooooomg, I *wish* had any other answer for this but the first game that "pulled me in" indeed WAS a Fromsoft game; and it was Bloodborne.

This came around a few months after it came out, (Meaning I was 14.) and I'd wanted Bloodborne the whole time because of how wicked fucking awesome it looked. (even if perhaps I was a little too young for it.)

I can't remember how, but by some means or another leading up to or concurrently with Bloodborne's initial release I got into all the "Loretubers" from that time, as they're known now.

VaatiVidya of course--most likely he was the first person I ended up watching, but also the other ones. Like the one who wrote that big book about it basically called like "The Paleblood Hunt" or something, and a few others!

The most significant of which I can tell you for a fact was the 'late' Jerks Sans Frontieres.

Her videos shot straight into my spinal cord because she wasn't a summarizer. She, in a similar sense that I am now, was a detective.

At that point I was still purely an audience-member for that latent genre of YouTube videos. As the consumer I enjoyed all of them, but I liked her's best. And I must've rewatched each of her Bloodborne videos at least a half-dozen times before I finally got my hands on the game myself--for my 15th birthday--and I got *so* scared by my experience in Central Yharnam that I think it took me days to pick up the controller again the second time.

I legitimately considered returning it! It was my first FromSoft game. I'd never played something that just, say, *didn't* have background music all the time, for example. I remember it still, clear as day, how unnerving it was just walking around the early areas hearing just your footsteps and the background rumble and when I was unlucky the screaming sounds of the crows and other enemies.

Precisely, when I first came up that ladder to the Central Yharnam checkpoint, when I heard the scream of the Cleric Beast, it scared me out of my wits so goddamn hard that I stopped moving for like 15 seconds.

I was still *just* turned 15, but at that point I had watched all of Bloodborne over and over again like 80 times. I'd watched tutorials and build guides and cheese strats and weapon movesets and everything else I could about that game, before I finally got my hands on it. I thought I would be, at least, ultimately okay. Cause I would still know everything I'd have to do.

I was wrong.

But I did get through it, hahaha.

In-fact I ended up getting through it so hard that by the time I got my hands on the actual DLC, my main save file was in NG++. So the first time I beat The Old Hunters was in NG++.

Fortunately I was very grinded-up so I think ultimately the experience balanced out.

And nowadays I've beaten Bloodborne so many times that I have the entire level of Central Yharnam actually memorized. Until a few years ago could've draw an accurate map of it from memory (and I have).

With Bloodborne being my introduction, as it were, to the concept of Videogame Story Explained Videos, it was also my introduction to the concept of seriously reading a videogame's story in the first place.

What this wasn't, yet, was me actually going in *myself* to actually cross-reference item descriptions and dialogue, for my *own* understanding. You don't do that sorta thing unless you're specifically involved in discussion. And I was involved in *no* discussions in 2015, or 2016, or '17 or '18 or '19 or anything all the way up to until 2022, because online I have the tendencies of a weird hermit.

Although that is me exaggerating. In truth prior to my dealings with Elden Ring I had been a Redditor and I talked (argued) about the story details of Little Nightmares 1 and 2 (My favourite games.) on the subreddit for those games. By then I had already become the kind of person I am still now, most of all in my disinterest in finding any answers regarding a fictional story that can't account for every extant element... of that story. (As you've seen, and will see more of in Episode X of ERwSET. When an idea I have appears to conflict with work in subject, I drop the idea. And develop one that doesn't conflict with it instead. This is opposed to the alternative of making up reasons or justification to keep the initial idea regardless)

No doubt doing that instead would probably make me a lot more content to make money with... Personally, doing so isn't engaging to me, because I am already someone who writes fiction. And in my opinion, "Videogame Story Explained Videos" are fundamentally a non-fiction genre of video, and for me are more interesting in general when they conform to that, because they interface directly with the media itself, and the material that media's author's put into it. Rather than just the individual video creator's personal experience of that media, of that material.

In part this comes from my background as someone who writes poetry and fiction. Of course.

*Of course,* an author who writes and puts meanings into material themselves, finds themselves more interested dissecting the material and creative decisions of *other authors,* who do the same thing, as opposed to the material and creative decisions of just *other readers.* Who most of them don't--generally maintaining more humane professions and areas of expertise instead.

And probably this is rooted into my tendencies as a 'weird hermit,' too. But, from my perspective, if I wanted to see what a fellow member of the audience thinks are the inner working of this character or imagines regarding the off-screen elements of a story, I would read their fanfiction.

...

...

That is of course reductive, but I think saying it like that is really funny, so that's why I'll be still saying it xd.

"Everyone consumes, but not everyone makes," you could say. The same way there are less farmers than people in the world. There are less writers than readers in the world. When I analyze a work of fiction, underneath it all what I'm looking for is to see what decisions the authors made, for *their final product:* "What does that do?" "What does this do?" "If it was different, what would that make?" "What does this matter? Does it?"

"Would I do this too?"

And this interest excludes the question of 'why,' predominantly. I'm not interested so much in wanting to know 'why,' because the only way to learn that is if the author themselves actually decides to share "why." I'm interested just in what the final decisions "are."

"Why'd the author decide to make this character do this?" Well, maybe they were really hungry that day. Or maybe they saw an ad on TV. Or maybe they were talking to their friend about something unrelated and their friend happened to say a phrase in a peculiar and cool way and the author decided he wanted to make use of that, too. And everything else that encompasses the spectrum of the human experience.

"Why" is whatever it wants, it's not like it would change what the final product "is," right?

And of course this doesn't preclude the fact that author's can just *lie* about their motivations too. For that reason, actually trying to find out 'why' is generally an impossible task.

And I'm not interested in pursuing those/I'm not interested in not #winning.

Perhaps this, you could say, then, is the ultimate source of my attitude. Not in the way that it's why I actually decided to write and draw and voice and edit my 80% Elden Ring lore series and 15% weird cartoon; "Elden Ring Explained with Snake-Eyes Teieruji." I did all those for completely circumstantial reasons! (And I go into detail about them in Issue #0 of the Kinda-Monthly Newsletter.)

Nor even in how my show is... the way it is! 'Cause even that is just me being really really slow and meticulous, (as you've no doubt suffered) and anyone can act like that~!

But it is, perhaps, what made me come up with the idea of making such a show as ERwSET, at all, in the first place. (And you can also read about the *second* major exclusion in my recounting here from that same article in Newsletter #0, which was the Sekiro-related project for which Snake-Eyes Teieruji was actually created, that didn't end up going anywhere.)

You'd have be a pretty specific kind of chucklehead to actually think of doing, specifically all this; y'know?

But you may be surprised to learn that I'm normally not like this at all, when I play videogames. Most of my creative energy in such regards are channeled into my poetry, art, and fiction. When I eat games, or movies, or books or TV, I don't really feel a want to find out "exactly what the author did for this character" or "exactly what elements of this scene connect with another scene" because I guess, perhaps, I'm too occupied with enjoying myself...

Hm.

Well, maybe it'll be more accurate to say that what I'm presenting, "of myself" in ERwSET, is effectively extremely extremely scripted and deliberate.

I spend months writing my scripts. (sorry about that.) And those months include the meticulous cross-referencing and fact-checking that gives those videos their noticeable pow.

It's a large amount of *work,* that that is. The desk-jockeying kind. And it's not something that can just do itself when you're relaxing playing any game normally. (I'll never just stop what I'm doing while playing a game to fact-check whether I'm currently right about something, while I'm still in the middle of playing it.

For example in my first playthrough of Elden Ring: I wasn't actually sure how Marika's name was spelled until I had finished my first playthrough. That I wasn't sure if it was "Marika" or "Merika" at the time just legitimately didn't concern to me. I just didn't pay that close of attention whenever I passed a Church of Marika or whatever to actually remember how it spelled her name, afterwards.

I actually kept a journal to keep track of all of my sidequests and stuff for my first playthrough, too! So maybe here's another example, haha:

And here's one more dfbjkskjdbfbkjsdkjbfsjdsf. These are all things I actually wrote down in the middle of playing the game so reading these myself is really fucked up I just remember what I was doing when I wrote them:

What I'm referring to as 'the fucking castle' there is actually what I thought the Siofra Aquaduct was, the first time I saw it, hahaha. I was even a little bummed out when I actually got to it, I'll admit. I thought it was gonna be an entire dungeon.)

In any case;

The experience of *creating* something, and the experience of *consuming* something, are just fundamentally incomparable things.

You could never figure out how houses are built by just living in one, even if you lived in one for a really long time. Right?

It's that very sort of thing; in terms of cross-referencing dialogue and noting game-wide consistencies and inconsistencies for discrepancies and explanations, no playing a game inspired me do that, or could. It was my becoming an author of fiction that inspired me to do that, and my burgeoning desire to understand the decisions *other authors* made, for *their* fiction.

"I wanna know how to do that too." Right?

Eventually this desire lead to me writing poems instead.

Which lead to me (once I finally became good enough at writing to realize--as related in that poem I flashed from highschool in ERwSET1) disavowing the written word entirely! TOO limited for me, I though...!

Pictures have WAY more pow than words!!!

And that's how I got into drawing...

(which are like *way* more powerful than words, right, like it's not even comparable, the only thing words are up-to-down unbeatable at is, indeed, non-fiction... but also in being a trillion times faster than everything else to actually work with. I have returned to the written word, since then, as you might tell. And I'll tell you that writing also has one advantage that no other skill on Earth has--and that's you can practice it using only your head. Every other skill needs equipment, lit only needs words.)

...which is lead me to my foray *now;* the likes of 2-dimensional medias like video! (visual + audio)

:DDD

But that's maybe not the kind of question you were actually asking, either... so...

Y'know... maybe it actually *is* Elden Ring, that's what 'pulled me in'.

I'm pretty far-in-deep right now in this, aren't I? And I've certainly never been this deep in something before!

How... did I get here...!?

I talk all about this in Issue 0 of the Newsletter as well but it's because of how Elden Ring served to combined FromSoftware's skills in atmosphere, the acting of the characters, visuals + audio, and gameplay, with George RR Martin's skills in actually have a coherent plot to present with those elements.

I've stated so before so I'll say so again that earlier FromSoft games such as Bloodborne and (especially) Dark Souls 3 are, to *a* meaningful extent, "not worth" looking into closely from a narrative perspective. In the way that their stories were never purposely finished.

The Soulsborne games have the reputation of having stories that are predominantly based on vibes, and that's not by accident. They are based on vibes.

Gameplay, atmosphere, acting, etc. Those are things that dictate the vibes. But they're not precise. You can't find the definitive answer to a character motivation in their boss theme, that's music.

*Power,* of course, they have in spades, but obviously not any 'precision.'

As we know, Bloodborne had a lot of cut content. And Dark Souls 3.

And as a result of the same internal situations (i.e. real life reasons like time, budget, and workforce) that lead to all that content being cut, a number of the questions you would ask regarding the plot details in those games, literally do not have answers *in* those games.

The stories of Bloodborne and Dark Souls 3 are ambiguous. But not in the way that there are multiple answers: In the way that there are *no* answers.

Again, that isn't by accident. The games themselves are obviously, literally, finished products. It was deliberate decisions made during production to *remove* material communicating parts of the story, for variable reasons, from what would become the finished product.

Thus, leading to parts of "the story" being, for the reader; missing.

Most people will frame this as equivalent to "the audience deciding what the truth is." And I think this is completely inaccurate.

"The audience can choose what the truth is" is when there would be multiple possible answers. (Little Nightmares 1 and 2 are my favourite games.)

"The audience can *never* know what the truth is" is when there are no possible answers.

And in my opinion they are completely different narrative outcomes. They shouldn't be equated.

...

...not acknowledging, of course, the *massive* amount of subjective legwork the word 'possible' is doing there, with those vibes-based definitions:

"Possible" as in, coherent with what is (percieved to be) in the text... by the reader?

Or "possible" as in, literally possible to be imagined by someone... such as the reader, whoever that happens to be?

The topic is only more complex from there. (All into academia and shit tho I wouldn't know I'm an art school dropout.)

And... almost definitely that's also not what you asked, either...

Hm...

Well, I ask that you forgive me.

As for *why* Elden Ring was special to me, circumstantially, such that it lead to my actually making ERwSET, the explanation for that will remain in Issue 0 of the Members-Only Kinda-Monthly Newsletter.

As to *what* lead to me becoming this way, as you see before you? (Insane.) I hope I was able to answer it.

As for RECOMMENDATIONS, for games in general, that inspire ME, personally!?!?!? (Specifically, in the way that they inspired me to think about the setting and wonder about how things in there connect. These listing might look random but I'm positive they're exactly what you might mean in you including, specifically, what "settings" I'm into. Albeit, you are getting this from a poet. So... there is that as well. I hope if you end up looking into any of these that you do end up pleased with the experience.)

Hohokum (2014), for PS4 and PC

GRIS (2018), for basically everything

Bloodborne (2015), but note it standing directly *on* Elden Ring

Minute of Islands (2021) for PC and consoles

The surrealist artbook "Codex Serafinianus" by Italian artist Luigi Serafini (originally published in 1981, but still added to by him occasionally with an updated 40th anniversary edition having been released in 2021.)

Gorogoa (2017), for basically everything again

Child of Light (2014), also, for basically everything, somehow

Flower (2009), available on PC (and I really cannot overstate how important 'Flower' is to me, I didn't even know games could *be* like that, before I played this)

And of course, my all-time favourite book "The Vine That Ate the South" by the band The Legendary Shack Shakers's basically only actual member, JD Wilkes. (A book that has all-but baked itself into my genome since I first read it in highschool, and the additional 29 times I've read it since. 'Cause I have been counting. I voraciously recommend the Audible-licensed Recorded Books and RB Digital audiobook version; the narrator T. Ryder Smith's voice is a trillion bucks for that book.)

And y'know what I think I'm wanting to mirror this answer directly into the Kinda-Monthly Newsletter itself. Not all my readers follow me on Tumblr, even fewer'll be online at the right time as to actually *see* this post this before it's buried under everything else I'll post afterwards, and I've just spent the last few hours enjoying the hell out of myself writing all 3100 words of it, gyahahahhahaha!!

So, for those who aren't reading this!

Look forward towards seeing it the first time, in Issue #1 of the T-L-G-T-W Official Fanclub Members-Only Kinda-Monthly Newsletter. (The Issue that'll be available for free.)

My reader, I also hope you don't mind your ask ending up inspiring me to do this. But you might be the first of more, too.

So for now, going forward for any questions and answers such as these asked to me (even anonymously) on Tumblr blog, that activate me like this one has; *they* might just end up in the *next* Issue of the Newsletter, too...!

I can't say for certain I'll announce every that do, ahead of time.

But, maybe... you'll just be able to just... tell. Somehow.

Hm

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

Butch's nightmare brings him into a vast ruined building of concrete and rusted rebar: a warren of corridors, rooms, catwalks. upper levels and open spaces under a rotting metal roof that exposes nothing but a night sky caught in a furious thunderstorm. The smell of damp permeats the air. If there is exit or entrance, the vast confusion of this prison of stone walls have hidden both well.

He is being hunted down.

Lightning flashes periodically and it is the only light that breaks this overwhelming darkness. And through that darkness, the Hunter is moving swiftly, silently. Going from shadow to shadow, there and gone. A deceptive noise here and a misleading shifting of air there. Taunting, teasing, waiting, watching, closing in ever so steadily to make that quick fatal strike.

It is a delightful game to them. A carefully woven trap designed to scrape and pull Butch's fear from his guts as easily as cleaning the entrails of a dead deer.

But the true pièce de résistance of the nightmare finally comes when the Hunter having wrapped tight their tapestry of terror descends upon Butch without warning. He doesn't recall what they attack him with. Gun or knife or inhuman claws but whatever it is, there is pain and confusion and the sudden crack of gunfire that splits through a moment of silence.

He sees the face of the Hunter clearly for a second, a slavering smeared mess of liquid gold, eyes as gold and dead as a statue's, gold pouring from a grin stretched into a rictus of agonized delight, the desperate grin of a mad man.

He knows that face in that moment, the sick punchline to a sicker joke. It's the face of one beloved to him.

And he knows with a odd sickening sense of dread and despair that if he does not kill them, they will gladly kill him.

Send My Muse A Nightmare. // @foxedthecards

Butch wanders through the darkness of the corridors with a sense of mounting dread… something is after him. Something malicious, but he doesn’t know what. He just knows that he has to keep moving.

Rushing through rooms that make no sense and up flights of stairs that seemingly have no end, he feels the presence growing closer despite how quickly he tries to push away from it until it’s on his heels.

It happens all at once and when he goes to sling his guns from his hips, he quickly realizes that they’re not there! Nor is his rope! He has no time to channel any energy to produce any fire in a pinch either! He has no protection. He’s left utterly vulnerable to the Hunter who’s all too aware of this when he corners his prey.

The cowboy isn’t sure how or what had pierced him more than once, but everything sounds static when it happens and pain shoots through all of him. It’s just by chance that he spots his assailant, briefly and through blurred vision. It’s…

It’s…. Jonas. His eyes are glowing gold and It doesn’t feel like him, but it looks just like him, and that once sweet face is full of malice and indignation. It means no good will and this he quickly learns when he’s unable to react. He concedes to his fate—he doesn’t want to hurt someone he cared about. He’s done so many times before and it never got easier.

He just… feels fortunate when he finally awakes and his eyes are focused on the fabric of the tent surrounding him. He’s still reeling from the nightmare, wondering if there was some sort of deeper meaning to it since it had made him feel so strongly. He tries to steady himself, going so far as sitting up and brushing his hair out of his eyes as he tries to catch his breath.

The pain is still there…

He knew that presence… had it been Jonas all along?

[mdhwrites]

Do you think Papa Titan was made for the shortening? Since he contradicts the show message of the Chosen one and raises questions on why he didn’t intervene earlier

No and I think he was made for a different purpose but first why I don't think he existed for the shortening: His fingerprints show up too early. They establish King's father issues and his ancient lineage early in S2 and from all we can tell about the production of the show, the shortening at affected S2B. King was already from conquerors of a sort, of those with immense power and importance was already being placed on whoever raised him. Admittedly, this is all kind of normal for the hammering home of the found family over adopted one that happens eventually... poorly since King returns because his life was at risk, just like Hunter abandoning Belos. Which also in fact means he never actually rejects his heritage over found family which I'm actually fine with. Let kids have two families, not that King ever gets that.

The second, potentially more damning, thing though is actually The Collector. We know for a fact that the Collector was not actually planned to show up this early. Dana has gone on record to say that he was an idea that they liked and then when the news of the shortening came down, they decided to cram him in because, well, they liked it. The needs of what had to be changed about him though for that cramming to happen though is probably why The Collector is so different from his dream appearance in Knock Knock Knocking. They couldn't build him how they wanted and so went more Bill Cypher with him, or they had to hammer out an actual character for him rather than keep him nebulous which is similar to what happened with Alador when he finally actually had to show up and the incongruities there.

Why does all of this matter though? Well, it has to do with the fact that the second The Collector was introduced, with only three specials left, I turned white as a sheet. The Collector was entire SERIES, multiple seasons, levels of power above literally anything in the show before then. The characters themselves might have been prodigies but moving a moon with a finger? They couldn't fight that. Which meant there were only a couple options for how that could go down in the end, especially with the lack of time they had. Either A: they redeem him and it never turns into a fight which is what happened or B: they pull something out of their ass to give someone power on par with the villain... Which also happened in order to defeat Titan Belos.

And I'll admit that King being a Titan had never crossed my mind for that but it syncs up well with why King was given daddy issues: He needed SOMETHING to do finally. Needed something to bring him back into the plot as the show became more plot focused and he could no longer be a mascot with a tired joke. He needed something to make him important and being the avenue for an escalation in power was what they went with.

This is why I make the claim that King's heritage is more important than himself. The fact that a Titan EXISTS has more effect on the show than literally anything King ever does. Period. His one choice that impacts anything is when he pulls the Collector out and he does it because, well, otherwise literally everyone he has ever known dies. That's nice but it's not exactly deep. He would have likely still done it pretty early in the series, WELL before he does, honestly. He just might have played at asking the Collector to be his minion as well instead of just being a little marshmallow who is willing to BLEED for this. At EIGHT YEARS OLD.

But that's the point. He is now a mcguffin who can provide powerful magic that can rival the level of threat that Dana wanted for the finale. The level of threat that she had wanted to implement eventually regardless since the Collector was already on her and the other writer's minds.

Also, you know, TOH manages to fuck up it's messaging all the time. The Coven System is inconsistent, Amity learns to care about her friends regardless of other's opinion and then abandons her friends when Luz disapproves of them, etc. etc. So even if all my conjecture is wrong and Papa Titan was changed for the finale, it's not exactly a mistake we haven't seen before. Not even a mistake we haven't seen before regarding this theme since Willow might as well be a chosen one with the level of plant magic she was just born with because she is probably at least half a decade behind the rest of the kids at school in practicing plant magic but is about as impressive as TERRA when it comes to what she can do.

And finally... Why does it matter if the shortening changed it? S3 still has lots of wasted time and no one forced Dana to make Titan Belos happen. She could have opted for a resolution that didn't require a deux machina like this. You know, maybe actually had The Collector be the final boss and his redemption as him turn on Belos and get rid of him properly this time. It was still the writer's choices that led to requiring Papa Titan to bless Luz like this and nothing is going to change that.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[nightingaletrash]

Now that I've watched the Bakura vs Bonz duel, I think I've figured out why the insistence on turning the Rare Hunters' death threats into shadow games feels so flimsy. (yes this is just an excuse for me to talk about the shadow games vs the death games shhhhhh)

First off is that it doesn't work with the lore: none of the Hunters have the power to turn a duel into a shadow game because its the Millenium Items that make shadow games possible. Without their power, it's just not possible, and adding a purple cloud doesn't change that. I really doubt that Marik goes around and 'blesses' buzz saws and bits of glass to give them access to the Shadow Realm in very specific ways.

Second, the death games are all about the illusion of power, whereas the shadow games are based on real power; if you put Marik and Arkana next to each other and ask an outside observer to pick who they think is more dangerous, they'd probably go with the guy who locked a kid in shackles and threatened to cut off his legs if he lost a card game, because that's a very extreme measure and it gives Arkana a lot of power over that kid. But Arkana's power starts and ends with his power over Yugi. It's contained to his stage, just as all the other Rare Hunters only possess power over the stages they construct. Yet their power is only as real as their abilities, which are very limited, and so they build in safeguards to protect themselves. Parachutes and hidden keys, means of escaping their own death traps in the event they lose because they know that their power is so limited. That's why they rely on theatrics and death threats. It's a projection of power, to make themselves look and feel more powerful, all while plotting a way out should their intimidation tactics fail to overwhelm their opponent.

And this is where the Bakura vs Bonz duel comes in. Whereas the Rare Hunters make their death threats very overt, Bakura's threats are very subtle despite his being so blunt. He doesn't state his intention to send them to the Shadow Realm... because he brings them there immediately. Its evident that when the duel begins that the environment has changed in a way that it doesn't in the death games. The colour palette has changed and the characters comment on the fog, and those visual cues are enough to clue in the audience to what has happened. Bakura has made this duel into a shadow game, and the world has changed to reflect that. But Bonz doesn't realise he's in a shadow game because he has no idea what that is; he thinks the only stakes are a place in the Finals. Only as the duel nears its end does Bakura reveal what the stakes really are and what they stand to lose. And those stakes go both ways. There is no built in loophole for him, no pre-planned way out if things go south. You win or lose in a shadow game, and while Bakura certainly has power here, there is an element of control that he's surrendered for the sake of terrorising and condemning some guys. Yet he doesn't fear it, doesn't fret about it, because he's got full control of the situation thanks to the power imbalance between him and his opponent.

And that's what 4kids really screwed up when they turned every threat of death and violence into 'being sent to the Shadow Realm' because its not meant to be some random threat that anyone could pull out of their hat and could happen to anyone. It's not something anyone can do just because they know about the Shadow Realm. It's about how even the most extreme of mundane threats still pale in comparison to the threat of something that can be barely understood.

tldr; while 4kids really watered down just how much of a threat the Shadow Realm is, the people who actually play shadow games are operating on a whole other level from the guys making death threats.

[clankryze511]

THE KNIGHT AND THE SLAYER: An Ultimate Spin Prequel

Black Knight’s Office

Unknown Location

1 Year After The Worldwide Curing

Black Knight: What’s the status on the intruder?

Black Pawn: We don’t know! This thing… it’s not a…

Gunfire, screams, and static came through the radio with the Pawn trying to explain whilst fighting for his life.

Black Knight pressed the button on her conference speaker.

Black Knight: It’s not a what? Damnit tell me!!

Black Pawn: IT’S NOT AN EVO!! Oh god. No don’t! Aaaauuuughhh!!!

The door was broken down as the Black Pawn she was talking to landed at the front of her desk, with an agape wound from his chest.  She saw the silhouette of the thing… no not a thing as she saw the insect like arms folded retracting into its back all the features of this creature faded and shifted into the silhouette of a human man. The person walked out of the shadows to reveal a man with a fine cut beard and mullet-like long hair with a suit she never seen before with a spider-like symbol engraving the chest area and some kind of touch pad on his left arm.

???: You should insist on better guards.

Black Knight pulled out her sword build and armor without her helmet.

Black Knight: And you should insist on better manners. Who are you?

???: Let’s just say I’m a certain individual who is taking an interest in you.

Black Knight: And what interests would that be?

???: We both want the same thing. To heal the world. To better it. To make it in our own image for a brighter and better tomorrow. 

Black Knight: How does your agenda align with ours? What does your plans have to do with the Consortium?

???: I wasn’t interested in the rest of your entourage. No you and only you knows what it’s like same as I to be brought down to lowest of levels. We both know what it’s like for others in power to turn their backs on us and what we would bring, to have the means to achieve it only to have it snatched away multiple times by meddlesome pests and traitors and fools! You still have a way. Many ways to take it back. I can give you the means to do so but to do it is to look elsewhere. Not out there in the wider world, or in space, but in other dimensions. Parallel Universes.

Black Knight: We already have the means to travel other dimensions. We have a second dimensional portal under construction. Why would we need you for it?

???: You’ve only scratched the surface. What I’m offering is something 10 times beyond your wildest dreams.

The man reaches into his pocket and reveals some type of flash stick.

???: May I?

Black Knight rolls her eyes.

Black Knight: Sure. By all means.

The man plugs in the drive into her computer showing things she has never seen or ever even dreamt of.

Black Knight: Incredible.

???: I’m offering more than just that. I will give you more powerful force that matches Providence  nearly almost in every way but without their flaws. More tech, more weaponry, everything you and your Consortium will ever need including to expand your research. But that’s not all.

The man pulls up on her computer a set of schematics and plans from his drive.

???: what we require to build this will be using my tech and yours and the brilliant minds to do so from both my universe and yours. For my part and to ensure Providence and our enemies don’t get in our way I know of a few individuals who could help us. Willingly or otherwise. 12 of these people you don’t know but there are 5 you do.

He opens file and brings up a list of people and names familiar and unfamiliar to her.

NORMAN OSBORN

OTTO OCTAVIUS

CURTIS CONNORS

PHINEAS MASON

ADRIAN TOOMES

MAC GARGAN

FRITZ VON MEYER

ABNER JENKINS

SERGEI KRAVENOFF

CLAYTON COLE

HERBERT LANDON

HUNTER CAIN

BRANDON MOSES

WEAVER

GABRIEL RYLANDER

ATHONY HADEN-SCOTT

HAROLD OSBORN

???: So, Black Knight…

He raises his hand out to offer her a handshake then her speaker chimed.

???: Do you accept my offer?

Black Pawn Captain (on radio): Black Knight, we’re in route to you now. Men, the intruder is to be shot on sight.

Black Knight pressed the button on the speaker.

Black Knight: Negative, Captain. Stand down. We will be attending a guest and a possible business partner.

She reaches out her right hand and both shake their hands in agreement.

Black Knight: It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Mr.

Alistair: Smythe. Dr. Alistair Smythe

[alphamales-rp]

Hunter wasn't waiting a second longer after the sound of Mickey's tone-perfect begging that had him leaking on the spot. He needed to be inside of the younger frat member just as much as Mickey needed him. He'd never heard Mickey's voice quite like this before, it was something totally new and erotically exciting and the king of the frat wasted no time in towering over the other, his chest pressing to Mickey's back and his cock lining up with his pink, well-prepped hole and began to push in.

He'd heard a lot of bro-talk about how tight Mickey was and how good he felt, but with Hunter being the biggest in the frat - something he knew from various other initiation rituals - it was a whole new level as even with him having slicked and worked Mickey, he could feel him having to stretch even more to take him and his massive cock, his hands rested over both of Mickey's and he buried his head in the crook of the bottom's neck as he didn't stop until he reached his hilt.

When he reached his hilt after a minute, he lifted his head so he could softly growl into Mickey's ear, "Dressed like a whore, begging like a whore- now it's time to fuck you like a whore," and with that he began to move his hips, gently at first pulling out and pushing back in again, adjusting his legs slightly so he had complete control and dominance before focusing on building up his pace, getting faster until the sounds of skin on skin repeatedly meeting began to fill up the room.

Fuck sakes Hunter was something else, his focus on pleasuring him was intense and single minded. No one had ever been this level of intent on working him up. He groaned as his a finger replaced the tongue and the kisses and bite to his ass.

Beg? Oh begging he could do. "Please Sir," he said putting in just the right amount of whining desperation into it. "I need you. Need to feel you inside me, using me. Need you to fuck me till all I can think about is your cock." It was genuine too he was more desperate for Hunter than he'd ever been before.

[moonlightspencie]

takes one to know one

Part 7 of ‘the sweetest con’

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: hotch gets a little owie in this one

<- LAST PART

We sat on the jet, nothing else to be said about the case that we hadn’t already discussed. 

We were traveling across the country to Wyoming on account of a hunter wreaking havoc on a small town. I decided to take a seat away from the crowd after we’d finished talking and divvying up assignments for when we landed. I looked over our case files again, but was distracted a few minutes into it by her laughter. 

I glanced up, an involuntary twitch of my lips almost giving way to a smile. She hit Morgan on the arm playfully, shaking her head. He looked at the others sitting with them, hoping they’d back up whatever claim he’d leveled at her. 

I looked away again, trying hard to not to show that everything she did made me want to smile. Until I heard my name. 

I quirked a brow as I looked up again, seeing Morgan and Emily looking away from me just as quickly. She kept her eyes on me the whole time, however, only smirking when I looked back with questioning eyes. 

“Something I should know?” I asked in their general direction. 

“Nothing you want to know,” JJ said with a laugh, popping her head over the seat to see me. 

“You four aren’t allowed to sit together anymore,” I noted, looking back at the files with my mind elsewhere. 

Reid snorted at the comment, silently continuing to read his book across from Dave. 

“That rule should have been established a long time ago,” Dave noted, pulling a smile from me. 

Emily turned around. “Can’t help if we’re curious. Why was your car at the building all night last week?” 

JJ tried quietly reprimanding her for the question, but she didn’t back down. 

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying not to let on that it was a question that made me very nervous. 

“Your car didn’t move the night after the last case. It was in the same spot the next morning, and you came into work with Y/N,” she said matter-of-factly.

I glared at Dave for a moment. He raised his hands in surrender. 

“They pulled it out of me,” he said, a smirk on his face. 

“Plus,” Emily continued, “She won’t tell us what happened and it is making the whole situation way more suspicious.”

I sighed. “This is not an appropriate conversation to be having when we’re supposed to be focused on chasing down a serial killer.”

Everyone looked at me with blank faces. All but the woman who still wore that smirk. Luckily for me, nobody else seemed to notice that she seemed almost proud of herself. 

I followed behind as Reid, JJ, and Y/N walked into the precinct. The others had already gone off to interview the few families of victims who were available at the time. 

Usually I had a relatively easy time separating my work life and personal life, but I couldn’t get the possibility of being found out from my head. 

I greeted the police chief and let him lead us to the room set aside for the team. 

I hadn’t thought I was being obvious about the crush I had on her, but it seemed the others were beginning to pick up on it. I hoped she would remain blissfully ignorant. 

JJ prepped to handle a very nosey reporter. She was committed to her favorite phrase: “no comment”. 

If she was aware, it certainly didn’t seem to worry her. She was all smiles when the team was trying to get information out of her. I knew I shouldn’t look into that too much. 

“Hotch.”

She had a sweet voice. I’d hate her to stop speaking to me if my secret got out. I couldn’t handle it. 

“Hotch?”

I snapped out of it as I stood at the table, staring blankly at the map Reid had set up. She was looking at me like I’d grown a second head. She was much closer than I’d realized, too. Close enough to reach a hand out to touch my arm. 

“Are you feeling alright?” She looked so cute when she was concerned. “You seem pretty clocked out right now.”

I cleared my throat. “I might just need a glass of water. I’ll be alright.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” she said, guiding me into a chair. I felt completely brainless. “I’ll go get you that water.”

I nodded, partially aware of what she was saying, and painfully aware that I needed to get a grip. I took a few deep breaths, coming back to myself. I had to get it under control, and I was determined that I’d do it immediately. I straightened in my chair, putting on my work face again. 

She came back, handing me the water, watching as I quickly downed it. 

“Thank you,” I nodded curtly.

She nodded back. “You’re okay?”

“I am. I was just feeling a little out of it,” I said, standing back up. 

She didn’t move. I took the initiative to put space between us, getting a brow raise from her. 

“Okay,” she said, suspicious. “If you need anything, I’ll be here, you know?”

“I know,” I accepted her offer. 

She watched me for another moment, then nodded to herself and walked back to Reid. I huffed out a hard breath, then got to work. 

We got a call a few hours later from Dave. 

“What’s up, Rossi,” she greeted, putting the phone on speaker. 

“A lot, kid. We think we have a lead, but we’ve got to move it quickly.”

I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re right, he’s on the way to his next victim right now.”

I sighed hard. “Okay. Go ahead and start over with the others. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I’ll have Garcia send you the address.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

She hung up the phone, standing straight. 

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, beginning to walk out of the room. 

I quickly moved towards her, catching her arm. 

“You’re staying here with Reid.” 

“Why?” she questioned, annoyance already lacing her voice. 

I raised a brow in surprise. “Because I am your unit chief and I gave you an order. I don’t need to explain myself.”

She scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re staying.”

I pushed past her to step into the hallway. 

“Being friends doesn’t mean you treat me differently,” she said after a beat. 

I stopped in my tracks. I turned slowly, jaw clenched. 

“This is not the time, nor the place. We’ll talk later,” I said, my tone indicative of a final warning. 

I drove fast towards the destination, the vest on me already feeling suffocating. The last thing I needed to be thinking about was a minor argument when I was supposed to be making it to my team. I had too much going on in my life in general. A divorce. Not being able to see my kid. The stress of the job. I didn’t need to be worried about her being annoyed at me. That wasn’t important in that moment. 

I tried to shake it off, pulling next to the cars that were now empty in front of the cabin. I unholstered my gun, following after where the team had said they were going. A minute before I arrived, they called to say they were heading into the house before they checked out the barn.

I walked up the old steps, going in through the open door. I checked my surroundings every time I stepped into a new space. I heard the creak of a floorboard in the kitchen, slowly turning into the room on high alert. 

I stiffened as a saw a figure, though I quickly let out a breath when it was a figure I recognized. 

Morgan visibly relaxed when he saw that it was me, nodding at me when I gestured towards the door next to me. I turned to open the door, but felt a hard shove. I fell to the ground, immediately fighting against the man on top of me. I got one good hit to his face before I heard a gunshot ring out. 

He fell limp on top of me, and Morgan ran over to push him off. I moved to get up, letting out a groan at a hot pain in my side. My hand flew to the area that caused the pain, and I looked down in horror when I realized it was wet. 

“You’re hurt,” Morgan commented quickly, dropping to his knees next to me. 

He helped me to lay back down, taking off his jacket to prop up my head. 

“He stabbed me,” I muttered out in shock. “I didn’t see a knife.”

Rossi, Prentiss, and one local officer ran in, freezing for a moment before starting to call orders for another ambulance. I heard something about the victim being found in an upstairs bedroom, but my focus was shot even more than it had been earlier. The next several hours were a blur. I got a ride to the hospital, hearing murmurs about the amount of blood I’d lost. I stayed awake until they put me under for surgery, worried that the knife had hit internal organs. 

When I finally woke up in an unfamiliar bed wearing a gown, my first reaction was annoyance. 

“What am I doing here?” I said, voice hoarse. 

I heard a rustling, looking over to whoever was in the room with me. She lifted her head from the side of the bed, eyes wide. 

“You’re an idiot,” she breathed out, standing to hug me. 

I accepted, wrapping an arm around her. I breathed in deeply, annoyance fading into a thankful feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, sighing softly. 

She didn’t let go, quietly holding me for a while longer. The smell of her shampoo was a comfort, and I let my eyes close until she sat back down. 

“He was like a centimeter away from causing some serious internal bleeding. If you had died I would have brought you back just to kill you myself,” she said, trying hard to be mad at me. 

I was too tired to not smile at her. Her face betrayed her, a small smile pulling at her lips as she watched me. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said quietly. 

“You’re lucky. I just switched with Derek an hour ago,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her. Her eyes were a little glassy still. “What happened?”

“He caught me off guard—“

“Hotch.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why didn’t you let me go with you?”

“You couldn’t have stopped this from happening. It could’ve been you.”

She sighed hard. “If it was, that’s the job. It’s what I signed up for. Not sitting at the precinct when you could have used backup.”

“Morgan was there when it happened. I wasn’t alone.”

“I still would’ve had your back.”

“Y/N—“

“No,” she stopped me. “Why did you make me stay?”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s not how this works, Aaron,” she said, trying to stop her voice from raising any higher. 

I paused, unsure what to say next. She huffed out another breath. 

“You can’t treat me differently. It’s not fair to me or anyone else. You wouldn’t have made anyone else stay behind like that. I always come with in those situations.”

“I know.”

“Every time something like that has happened in the past, I went. Why did it change this time? That’s not fair.”

“It isn’t, you’re right.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t explain that.”

“Yes, you can,” she said, desperation in her voice. “You can. You just don’t want to.”

“I have too much going on right now for this,” I said, my eyes closing tightly. 

“For me, you mean?”

“No.”

“For what, then?” she asked, scooting in closer. “Because it seems a whole lot like you’re trying to convince yourself to stay away from me and I don’t get why. If it was because of the job, that’d be one thing. But I know it isn’t. You could have died today and you still won’t be honest with me.”

I kept my eyes firmly squeezed shut. I knew I couldn’t run from this anymore, but I wished I had more time. I couldn’t explain my feelings to myself, let alone to anybody else. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally got out in a small voice. “I don’t want things to change.”

“You don’t?”

I opened my eyes, seeing her looking back at me with a questioning gaze. She almost looked hurt, and I felt immediately guilty. 

“There’s been so much changing.”

“I know.”

“You’re always there for me. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“You think I’d stop?”

“I’m worried you would.”

She swallowed, not taking her eyes off me. I felt her take my hand in hers. 

“Why would I do that?”

I paused. “I don’t know. I’m just—“

“You don’t have to be afraid of me going anywhere,” she said, brushing her thumb over my knuckles. “I’m not the one who runs around getting stabbed.”

I laughed lightly, but quickly stopped, feeling the pain in my side. 

“Oh,” she cooed, a small smile on her face as she watched me put a hand to my side. “Do you need more meds?”

“I’ll be okay. You’re just now allowed to make me laugh anymore.”

She chuckled. “Maybe I should’ve kept Derek in here, then.”

I smiled. “Maybe.”

She was quiet for a minute, reaching her hand up meet the other as it caressed my own. 

“We have to talk about this, you know?” she said softly. 

“Can I just have a little more time?”

She nodded. “Only if you promise me two things.”

“Anything,” I said quickly. 

She smiled again, looking away from our hands and back at me. I sighed, somehow feeling perfectly content with her, even in circumstances like these. 

“That you’ll stop treating me differently, for one.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“And,” she added, “That we’ll have a real, sit-down conversation about this. Soon.”

I let out a breath, taking a moment to appreciate her still tracing patterns on my hand with her own. She felt soft and real and wonderful. I admired her for a moment, letting my eyes linger on her face. She seemed to already know what I needed to say, so there was no use in hiding it anymore. Not when we were alone. 

“I promise.”

NEXT PART ->

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