#(...or were. rip brad)

[leaveharmony]

Love when he gets a benign weirdo. Especially with such a snappy wardrobe <3

[fratttymatty]

You're Smoked

(All characters are 18+)

It was just another quiet Tuesday evening when everything changed for Quinn, Eric, and Alex. The three 29-year-old nerdy best friends had always been inseparable. They spent their nights playing video games, debating superheroes, and diving into comic book lore. Life was predictable, comfortable, and easy.

That was, of course, until Quinn discovered a peculiar game at the local thrift store. "The Alteration," the box proclaimed, adorned with strange glowing symbols that beckoned them like some irresistible mystery. The trio wasn't into supernatural gimmicks or odd fads, but it was a game, and that was all the convincing they needed.

They gathered at Quinn's apartment, excitement buzzing in the air as they set up the game on his coffee table. It was more complex than they expected—dice with too many sides to count, cards, and tokens scattered across the table. But there was something captivating about it. The kind of feeling that made you ignore any misgivings and dive in.

Each took a turn, rolling the dice, drawing cards, and following instructions. The game progressed—strange, but harmless enough. That is, until they each drew the same card: "Transformation."

In an instant, the room seemed to warp, and a tingling sensation spread through their bodies. It wasn’t painful, just dizzying, like waking from a dream where everything felt off. And then—poof—it was done.

The trio looked at each other in confusion, but the first thing they noticed was how completely different they looked.

Zane—formerly Quinn—was the first to speak, his voice a low, cool drawl that didn’t even sound like him anymore. His once-thin frame had morphed into a broad, muscular build, and his hair was now a wild, tousled mess of brown waves that looked like they hadn’t been touched by a comb in years. His sharp jawline was prominent, and his once-framed glasses had disappeared, replaced by a pair of dark sunglasses that now sat comfortably on his nose.

He was wearing a white t-shirt, but it was simple—just a plain, snug fit that clung to his chest and shoulders. His jeans, baggy and worn-in, hung loosely from his hips as if they were the most natural thing in the world. Everything about his new body felt strong, confident, and unmistakably cocky.

Zane didn’t even think twice before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a vape. Without hesitation, he took a deep drag, the cool mint flavor swirling in his lungs before he blew out a thick cloud. He smirked at the feeling of the nicotine buzz. It felt right. Too right.

Brad—formerly Eric—looked down at his body, which had transformed in ways he could barely comprehend. His hair, once neatly styled and short, was now a tousled brown mess, still kind of messy but somehow perfectly styled in that carefree, too-cool-for-school way. His chest was now broad, and the sleeveless hoodie he wore was so tight on his biceps, it looked like it might rip at any moment. The rest of his body was covered by black sweatpants that hung low on his waist, his legs thick and athletic. His confident grin was now permanent, like he was daring someone to challenge him.

Brad's hands automatically went to his pocket and pulled out a vape of his own, the smooth, sleek device fitting perfectly in his grip. He took a puff, exhaling the smoke slowly, and felt a rush of satisfaction flood through his body. He looked at Zane, nodding in approval. "This is living, man."

Jared—formerly Alex—felt the change as well, looking at his reflection with a stunned grin. His hair had transformed into a messy, tousled dirty blonde wave, perfect for someone who spent their days outside and had no care for combing it. His physique was now long, lean, and athletic, with strong shoulders and toned legs. He wore a white t-shirt, but this one had a yellow and purple design on the front—loud and attention-grabbing, exactly the opposite of his old style.

His jeans were baggy, the kind that hung low on his hips, and they felt more comfortable than anything he’d ever worn. He wasn’t used to the carefree, devil-may-care attitude, but right now, he didn’t care. It was like he had been reborn, and he liked it. A lot.

He pulled out his vape, taking a smooth drag as the buzz filled him. "Dude, this is awesome," he said, watching as the vapor swirled in the air before dissipating. "We’re unstoppable."

The three of them looked at each other for a long moment. The lives they had known—playing board games, chatting about nerdy topics, debating superheroes—felt so distant now, like they were from someone else. Instead, their new reality—their new selves—felt exciting and irresistible. They felt alive, like the world was theirs for the taking.

"Let’s hit the gym, grab some food, and maybe hit up the beach later," Zane said, already starting to walk toward the door, his voice confident and smooth.

Brad nodded. "Hell yeah. I feel like I could bench press a car right now."

Jared laughed, taking another long drag of his vape. "Yeah, let’s go mess around. I’m down for anything."

And just like that, the three of them—Zane, Brad, and Jared—walked out into the night, completely unconcerned with who they used to be. Their new lives were everything they had dreamed of, and they were ready to embrace it all.

But as they made their way toward the local gym, they didn’t expect what happened next: the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk, a group of girls appeared out of nowhere.

They were tall, blonde, and bubbly, their smiles wide and bright. They giggled as they approached, their eyes locking onto the trio with obvious interest.

The first girl, a bubbly blonde with a ponytail, nudged her friend and giggled. "Hey, guys! You’re looking cute tonight," she said to Zane, her voice sweet and airy.

Zane grinned, the cocky smirk never leaving his face. "Thanks, babe," he said, flipping his sunglasses down and taking another puff from his vape.

Brad raised an eyebrow at the girls and winked, adjusting his sweatpants. "What’s up, ladies? You want to hang out?" His voice oozed confidence as he looked them over.

Jared chuckled, his hand moving to the back of his head as he rocked on his heels. "Yeah, you girls look fun. Wanna come grab some smoothies or something?" he offered with a mischievous grin, his tone laid-back.

The girls giggled in response, looking like they’d hit the jackpot. "Totally," the blonde with the ponytail agreed. "You guys are so cute. We should hang out!"

It was a perfect moment—everything was exactly how they’d imagined their new lives would be. And as they all walked off together, Zane, Brad, and Jared realized that the changes weren’t just physical. They were free—free to be the people they had always wanted to be, no regrets, no looking back.

There was no turning back now. The past was nothing but a distant memory. And with their new, ditzy valley girlfriends in tow, life had never felt so thrilling.

(from left to right: Brad, Jared, Zane)

[nctstar]

Can I get a smut of Johnny suh using his size and strength kink on a petite female Y/N? Thank you~

heyy! i'm so sorry this is absurdly late :(( but hope you still like it! <3

small

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.4k

genre: romance, smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! as per the request the reader is smaller than Johnny but I refrained from describing body parts or her specific size or anything like that, she is just short. if you're sensitive to this kind of talk though maybe don't read <3 mild profanity, lots of kissing, johnny carries reader, manhandling, descriptions of johnny's torso and body throughout, dirty talk about the size of his ding dong schlong, mild degradation (use of slut), ripping clothes bc those muscles do more than lift weights <3, clitoral stimulation/fingering, reader is pretty slutty and dumb during sex (aren't we all), missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), condom use, talking after sex (post nut clarity fr)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: i have been in such a writer's slump particularly with smut! like i think i need some time off to write some good fics and some good smut, so i'm sorry anon and to all my lovely readers if this is shit :(

“Now why would he ever say that?” You peeked at your friend pacing around your small room through your hair. Scissors in one hand, your (new) bangs in the other, you winced. “Wait, girl, I made a mistake I think.”

She sighed as you let the strands flutter across your forehead, uneasiness settling in your stomach. “Didn’t you follow what he said?” Brad Mondo’s curtain bangs tutorial continued in the background as you turned your head expectantly from side to side. Your friend held your head in place with open palms, looking at you through the mirror. “It’s actually kinda cute. Makes you look…well…”

“Don’t say small.” She snorted, bringing a hand to her face to unsuccessfully cover her mouth. “I don’t care, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

You pushed yourself off the stool, rolling your eyes as you started undressing. “He didn’t mean it like that.” Your belt clinked as your jeans fell to the carpet, and you started bringing your shirt over your heard. “I’m sure it was his way of complimenting me.” Despite all your efforts, you couldn’t stop the annoyance that cemented your words into place. “I guess.”

“Girl, you need to tell him that it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, and it’s not weird to call some girl you’ve been on two dates with small.”

The doorbell cut through the air, making you both jump. “Shit. It’s like he heard or something.”

“Shit. Wait, just let him in and get him to wait downstairs. Okay?” Sudden panic was settling into your body, making your hands shake. Your friend got the message and hurried downstairs, zipping her skirt up in record time while hobbling downstairs. “Hope I don’t smell like chicken. I hate having shifts on Fridays.”

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you pulled the skirt over the curves of your thighs and butt, watching the way it held onto your body. Stuffing the ends of the top into the skirt, you walked over to pick out a pair of shoes.

“I’m heading out! Johnny’s waiting down here!” Your friend’s voice made your body do the kind of useless flurry that it does whenever you know you’re running out of time, and you drag out the highest heels you own. Small, my ass.

“Hey!” As usual, he softened his frame when he saw you, placing his hands in his pockets and smiling so big so you would forget to feel intimidated by his 6-foot stature, or rock-hard physique. His eyes were like small moons, bursting on his face whenever he smiled. “Hey, nice bangs.” You instinctively went to fiddle with them, silently cursing yourself for messing them up. “Thanks.” Your smile was a little forced, but you were giddy to see him, your body rocking back and forth without your permission, ankles rubbing against each other.

∞

“The pasta was so good,” you couldn’t stop raving, your hips knocking into Johnny as he walked you home, arms linked. “Like seriously, Johnny. So good.”

He laughed, the sound leaving him effortlessly. “I’m so glad you liked it. I remember the pasta here being amazing, but I was worried you would think I’m cheap or not taking you seriously. The place being run down and all.” You shook your head, your bangs shuffling from side to side as you did. “No, of course not. I would rather eat something good on the street than a tiny portion of something small and pretentious at an upscale place.”

He hummed, moonlight hitting his body, softening some angles and sharpening others, hair glowing golden brown as he walked. Your heels clacked against the linoleum of your front porch as you wondered whether your friend was home, but before you could reach for the front door, your knees buckled. You let out a small gasp as you felt Johnny’s arms around your body, pinching into your skin almost uncomfortably. “Oh shit! I’m okay, babe.” You both froze at the sudden nickname, his arms loosening around you as you straightened up. You shakily continued. “U-uhm, sorry, I mean-“

“I think your shoes broke.”                                                                   

Yeah, no shit, you wanted to bite back. But you held your tongue, frustration seeping through your pores as you held onto the rail, Johnny hovering protectively over you as you took the right heel off, now newly broken in two pieces. “Oh my god. These were so expensive! Ugh!”

“It’s okay. Maybe I can buy you another pair. Babe.” He said the last word almost sarcastically, and you glared at him. “Johnny.”

“I’m serious. I’m sorry those broke so easily. I’ll bring a new pair next time?”

“Johnny, wait.”

“You like me, right?” His face crumpled just a tiny bit. Not exaggerated like in the movies or anything, so subtle you would never notice from afar, or if you weren’t close. You warmed at the thought of knowing him so closely, so well, enough to know that something was not right in the lines of his eyebrows.

You gulped, not knowing how to respond.

“I feel like you kinda hate me.” He crinkled his nose when he said hate, almost sarcastically, but his tone jabbed you straight in the chest. You shook your head. No, of course not, you wanted to say. I like you. I like you so much. But I am small to you. I wonder if you think of me as small. Do YOU like me?

“I just, I don’t like being small.” He frowned, and so did you, the words sounding stupid as soon as they filled the small space between your bodies. “I mean, you called me small the other day. And I know you probably, well, definitely, meant it as a cute thing. Like physically. Like a term of endearment, you know? But, I don’t wanna be seen as small, like more than physically. You know what I mean?” You cringed internally at your words, watching him stare blankly back at you.

“Right.”

“I’m so sorry. I sound like such a jerk. I don’t mean to be hung up over one little word you said.” You bit your lip, tasting the remnants of your lipstick on your tongue. “It’s just what made me feel a little weird. But, I do like you, Johnny.” Your heart raced as you looked up at him. Your body moved without permission for the umpteenth time, and your arms melted around his hips, fingers splaying across the small of his back. Your mind screamed at you, but your body ignored it, burning up from within.

Tentatively, he brought one hand to your chin, skin warm but rough on yours. “I don’t think low of you. I never have. I just think you’re so fucking gorgeous. So perfect the way you are.” The butterflies in your stomach were now dancing, free, leaping over hills and grassy plains. “Sorry for the poor choice of words.”

You smiled, some of the tension leaving you as you let your bodies merge seamlessly, like lanes on an open road, like the sun as it meets the horizon. You kicked off your other shoe, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. He tentatively glazed his hands over your sides, making you shiver and moan into his mouth. You brought your fingers to the nape of his neck, savouring the taste. “Mmm, Johnn-“

You yelped when he gripped your thigh, guiding it to press against his hips. “Jump up for me, baby.” You giggled, nodding as you straddled him, his torso gently rebounding back with your weight. As you met his lips once more, dragging your forearms across the top of his shoulders, you heard your front door open and close, the door to the downstairs bedroom fling wide open. As your back hit the bed, your hair splayed out onto the fresh sheets, knees bent, lipstick smeared.

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

“Uh huh.” All the shame left your body as you drew circles on his body and face with your eyes, letting his thick frame tower over you. “Is this okay?” He breathed into your collarbone, and when you nodded fervently, you felt his lips suck and nip at your neck. Gasping, you gripped onto his neck, letting your ankles hook around the back of his jean-clad legs. “Y-yes. Yes please. Don’t tease, I want y-you so much.”

“Yeah?” He played with the buttons of your top, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait…just rip it off, please. I need you. Right now. Please, just use me. I know you can.” He drew an eyebrow upwards, and you almost felt a slight twinge of embarrassment until you heard the top rip, cold air exposing your lace bra, tits bulging as you arched your chest off the bed. “What a slut. Is this what you wanted all along?” He laughed as you wriggled under him, mouth latching onto the tops of your boobs. He released you only to throw your arms up, pinning your wrists down to the bed to watch your reaction. When you bit your lip in response, bringing your core closer to his, he laughed darkly. “Freak.”

“Yes, just for you, fuck, please.”

“Bet you’re just soaked under this tight little skirt. Want me to rip this off too?” You nodded before he could even finish his sentence, and the sound of your fabric ripping filled the air. “Mmm, just as I suspected.” As he dragged your panties down your thighs, you felt your wetness pool onto the sheets under you. “Please, please, hold me down and fuck me.” You whispered into his ear, letting your plump lips graze against his skin as you massaged the nape of his neck with your fingers. You whimpered when his jean-clad bulge bumped against your clit, the burn in your core growing with every passing second.

He kissed you deeply, pulling away at an agonising pace. “Tell me why, baby.” You whined, trying to gather some friction between your legs with no avail. His arms pinned yours to either side of your head, his legs like heavy weights against yours. “Please, I just, I want your cock i-inside me, w-want it to split me open…” He shook his head. “What makes you think I would do that to you? I’m too big for you, honey.”

You whined. “N-no, please. I don’t care, just, push it in me…” He laughed, kissing you. “Please, I want to feel so full…” He shushed you, sitting up to unbuckle his jeans. “Mmm, yes, yes please…” You were just babbling nonsense, the anticipation too intense to bear. His cock sprung out of his boxers, hitting his stomach, precum spilling out the edges of the tip. You heard him rip open a condom packet, dragging it on his length at lightning speed. He ran his cockhead through the folds of your pussy, making you whimper. “So wet.” He breathed, and you gasped as his tip entered you at an agonisingly slow place. “J-Johnny.” Your brain fought your body, wanting him to continue but feeling apprehensive at the impending stretch. “You’re so big. Fuck.” You snuck a hand down towards your clit, but Johnny grabbed your wrist, leaning over to kiss your chin. “Let me.” As he pressed one finger onto your core, you gasped, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. “O-oh, oh my…”

“You like that?” He started speeding up, your gasps and moans like drugs to his system. When he pulled away, he started pushing his length in, and you let out a deep breath, as if you had been holding it in the entire time. “Fuck.” You drawled, feeling him in every corner of your insides. “Fuck, Johnny. You’re, you’re so big, and s-strong.”

Johnny laughed, and you wondered for a second whether you had ruined the mood. “My cock making you lose your filter, babe?” You blushed, but the constant bump and stretch on your clit had your vision go foggy, your head spinning deliriously. You used your forearms to push away, breathing deeply as if his cock had suffocated you from the inside out. Johnny wrapped his arms around your hips, bringing you flush against his pelvis in one swift movement. “Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?” His snarkiness and the fulness in your lower stomach made your core squeeze excessively. “Ah, shit! Fuck, I think I’m gon-“ You felt it before you could finish your sentence, your climax stealing the words out of your mouth, making your heart thump incessantly against your ribcage.

Johnny cooed at your, his forearms now caging you by your head, peppering light kisses on your face. “You alright, sweet girl?” You nodded, gasping. “Please, please move.” He chuckled, groaning as he pulled back to thrust into you, making you throw your head back and scream. “Fuck, oh my god.” Your body shook with the force of his steady thrusts, his legs pinning your body down to the bed. “Good girl, that’s it.” He groaned, getting sloppier as he reached his climax. “You’re so good for me. So eager for me to pin you down and fuck you. Because I’m so big and strong, right?” You reached for Johnny’s neck, the embarrassment at your previous comments leaving you as you felt your core tighten, coil ready to snap. “Fuck, you just gripped me so tight, fuck. Nasty girl.” You moaned as you came, feeling him release inside the condom with a throaty moan.

Both of you heaving, gasping for air, you pulled Johnny close to your body, kissing his collarbone, his neck, his face. “I do like you, a lot.” Your breath tickled his skin as you spoke, and he stroked your hair gently with one hand, using the other to pull away from you to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you small. I admit, it’s a little weird.”

“Apology accepted. I think we’ve both called each other things we’re never gonna say again.”

“No, hon, you should always call me big and strong Johnny-“

“Johnny, please. Never mention that again. It was a moment of weakness!” You whined, shielding your face as he laughed, slipping off you to lie next to you on the bed. “Kinda sexy though.” You slapped his arm playfully, laughing as slipped down his forearm to take his hand in yours.

“I’ll think of something better for next time, promise.”

[uwuwha]

And oh, I wish I could hold you in my arms || but lately my body has been so afraid

A comic for @cometquest's blocktales apocalypse au! Can be interpreted either romantic or platonic. I kind of made my own story here, but you should definitely go check the au out!! His character designs are sick as hell and I've been a bit insane about them lately 🙏🙏!

Text reads: And if I knew you a little less, and my soul held a little less pride, I'd ask for you to stay safe by my side. But in my heart, I have long known what your answer would be.

Some extras below the readmore! Fair warning it's quite long

The comic without leetspeak!

In honour of the most recent lore post

Banner says: and me I feel also not so good Griefer's saying: Dude this yogurt fucking sucks

And my original tags condensed into incomprehensible paragraphs because there was not enough space to fit all of them underneath. Dear lord.

Genuinely I keep thinking about them oh my lord. The way in a normal world they would have never met. Wouldn't have even known eachother existed except in passing and rumors. Yet in this world where everything is falling apart Griefer and Jim are the only lifelines in their towns, do they meet even if its in voicechat. The only way Roadtown can talk to Turitopulis. And if Red lives in somewhere other than Roadtown or Blackrock, then Jim is quite literally the only way Brad can get updates on his father.

So they start talking and planning and communicating. And they communicate and they learn about eachother and they start talking more than strictly necessary and days or months or maybe years later, Griefer suddenly realizes that he's looking forward to his next conversation with Jim. He likes talking to him. He finds comfort with him. He cares a lot for Jim. A lot. Like a bird trying to rip out of his chest. Over the voice on his headphones who hes never seen before.

And if he knew Jim a little less well. If he maybe he were willing to beg a little more. He might've asked Jim to go and live in blackrock like his dad, or even go to Turitopulis to stay with him. But he knows who Jim is, and he knows who he is, and if someone had ever asked him to leave Turitopulis he would've socked them in the face. And even though he's calmer and more mellower than him, Griefer knows Jim would never think about leaving Roadtown for it to defend itself. And nobodys really manning the planes except for Jerry nowdays. So he never bothers asking.

But like a riving pounding against stone, the voices know they can't last forever and one day, maybe the voices finally got to him or maybe it was an act of self sacrifice, but Jim blows himself up. And all of the sudden Brad is left with headphones that emit static, no contact to Roadtown, and a sinking pit in his stomach. Do you see my vision here. Gripping myself.

[gassyboy02]

Sam waited in his truck for me so we could hit the lake for a day trip. I was floored when I opened the cab door. Sam was obviously ripping some pretty strong farts while waiting for me to arrive. He laughed excessively as I winced at the stench attack.

“Sorry man, you ride with me, you gotta take the farts.” Sam tried staying stoic but couldn’t help breaking out in laughter. He stank. The car was hot and humid in the summer heat which only intensified the smell.

“I’ll think of you like my ride or die… only it’s more like ride and die given the gas.” Sam leaned back in his seat and ripped a long blast into his leather seat. His windows wouldn’t roll down, the AC didn’t work. The only thing that did work was the power lock on his old truck. Every breath made me that much closer to cumming in my swim trunks.

The lake water was surprisingly cool to the skin on a hot summer’s day. However, given that Sam and I were roasting in his dutch oven Truck it was a safe bet that even lukewarm water cold feel like ice.

“Dude! Come here, look at this…” Sam motioned me to join him on his side of the lake. As I neared him he pulled me in closer and instantly my crotch met his backside. Sam ripped a fart that came up as huge bubbles from the water. The stench was magnified and condensed as Sam laughed at my reactions again.

“Silly Brad, why did you never tell me you liked farts? You’ve been sniffing up all my gas from afar when you could have been nose deep in this bubble butt 24/7.” Sam smacked his ass after pulling himself out of the water onto the dock. The wet swimtrunks clung to his ass tight and I was amazed at the amount of growth his ass acquired over the three years we had been friends.

We laid in his truck bed for a good bit of the evening. I spooned him from behind as his butt began to strike my cock fart after fart. “If I fart on you one time for every day you’ve hid your secret then I only have like 1000 to go today.” Sam’s words sent chills down my spine as my cock was already ready to pop.

“How did you know?” I asked by whispering in his ear.

He didn’t respond but to rip the longest blast of the day right onto my cock. Cum sprayed in my shorts as it continued on. “Quiet slave, get down there and sniff!”

I did. I think I’m gonna like this new game with Sam

[artisticprocrastionator]

Mayor Thaniyel in my INSECT AU! (TRAPPED SAGA)

This was very fun to make! He’s just so sweet! This is a deeper view of Mayor Thaniyel in the INSECT AU (TRAPPED SAGA), so enjoy!

———

Mayor Thaniyel was an explorer before settling in Turitopulis to start up his cafe/nursery (for plants). He would explore the forest and find exotic plants in the wild to sell at his shop. He also sold tea, specifically matcha (which is his favorite).

He continue to run the shop even after he became mayor which the locals would often meet their favorite mayor working behind the stand at his shop. When Brad got older, he would also help out his dad.

Restating from the first AU post I made, one day a huge storm came in that caused massive flooding and left Mayor Thaniyel stranded. He was rescued by the Poisonfang tribe which assisted and cared for him until help came. Thaniyel would grow close to the tribe and mutually supportive each other through their trades (Mayor Thaniyel trading his tea for plants). This would get recognition from Shedletsky and Builderman who saw him as the perfect fit to be the guardian of the Venomshank.

After Thaniyel became mayor, he met someone through his coffee shop and they would date, married and have Brad. However, a huge forest fire struck the rainforest which took most of the town and his wife. Grief-stricken, Thaniyel sought to protect Brad at all cost from something ever happening again.

When Brad got eaten by the Venus fly trap (see my AU post to understand the context), Thaniyel didn’t hesitate and with his bare hand ripped the plant open to pull Brad out. Thaniyel still has scars on his arm from the acid burning him as he pulled Brad out of the plant.

That incident definitely made him lose passion for plants which made him close the shop for a few months. However, he regains his love for plants and open his shop up again (With Brad’s encouragement).

Before the incident, his relationship with Brad was very strained until they rekindled their relationship after it and overall made this father-and-son duo more closer and stronger than ever. Brad doesn’t live in Turitopulis but very often visits his dad to spend time with him. They often go on hikes, explorations, or just catch up. Thaniyel cherishes every moment with his son.

Mayor Thaniyel has a close friend, Mayor Monty, who runs a small town named Roadtown near Blackrock. They were best friends when they were little and often went on many explorations together. Monty would settle down in Roadtown after being promoted to Mayor which left Thaniyel to continue his exploration alone. However, they do make a point to meet up every month to catch to one another. Monty is especially a supporting character for Thaniyel as he navigates his grief after the incident for those following weeks.

[almostempty]

What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader)  wc: 4.6k | other fics 

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??) 

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3. 

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for. 

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes 

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume. 

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps. 

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink. 

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university. 

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot. 

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing. 

“Viper!” 

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue. 

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night. 

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv. 

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights. 

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room. 

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again. 

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air. 

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party. 

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him. 

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you. 

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him. 

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks. 

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock. 

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.” 

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover. 

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder. 

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks. 

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party. 

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly. 

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously. 

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted. 

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do. 

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret. 

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously. 

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.” 

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty. 

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does. 

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.” 

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.  

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers. 

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party. 

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice. 

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth. 

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade. 

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name. 

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.” 

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups. 

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity. 

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity. 

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak. 

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little. 

“What for?” you ask playfully. 

“To fuck.” 

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man. 

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.” 

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies. 

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties. 

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze. 

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh. 

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.” 

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair. 

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago. 

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair. 

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed. 

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth. 

More, more, more. 

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.  

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice. 

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.  

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress. 

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers. 

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues. 

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning. 

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity. 

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction. 

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room. 

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at. 

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought. 

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs. 

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance. 

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep. 

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for. 

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs. 

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv. 

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle. 

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door. 

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy 

[ammodup]

PLEASE PLEASE PLSEA ANGSTY ZERO DAY HEADCANONS JUST THE WORST YOUVE GOT I WANT TO HAVE MY ORGANS RIPPED OUT 😭😭

HEHE your wish is my command !! 😌🫶 Another Anon asked for angsty headcanons so hope you like! :]

Zero Day + Caldre Angst HCs

When there are temporary strains affecting Cal and Andre’s relationship, they automatically assume that their previous argument ruined everything they have together. The first time they fought physically, immediately post-brawl, Andre was worried that Calvin would never want to talk to him again as he may have hit him too hard… but Calvin was worried that Andre would loathe him for shoving him down against the floor, which is such a hard surface in his bedroom. Yet, both boys can’t reciprocate a feeling of hatred for one another. They crave each other like two cannibals; they’re drawn to the idea of consuming the other physically, mentally, and emotionally. They thrive off of eating up the good parts within each other, and thus, they’re left as the soulless beings they’d proved themselves to be during Zero Day. They’re half the men they formerly portrayed themselves as, and with nearly identical viewpoints, they see their peers— especially Brad— as threats, as targets. Specifically those who hurt them in some way.

Andre had received a scholarship for scoring above average on state tests and maintaining his high GPA. Because of this, he had 75% of his tuition covered. Previously apart of the Class of 2001, it likely should have sparked some concern that Andre had little interest in participating in some school activities. He never cared for the senior pranks, special lunches, or field trips. Yet it was only natural that most people let their guard down. Additionally, his parents were ready to see their son grow wings and soar high, to watch him become a successful young man. In the end, he developed these “wings”— but in a wholly different sense.

Calvin used to take his siblings to the community park nearby. He’d watch them play and would monitor their behavior. When they’d start fighting with other children, he wouldn’t engage. Instead, he’d calmly walk up and pull them away, even as they both whined about how, “He started it!”. Cal had never been an instigator when it came to his siblings— he only wanted what was best for them. He believed that they were going to be okay without him without actually telling them this; he had his own “prophecy” that he was going to fulfill. He had his own fate, essentially, which included going down with Andre after carrying out such a harrowing crime.

Andre’s track trophies and science fair awards were tossed into a cardboard box, only to be deposited in a storage unit within the New Stratford area and never to be touched by anyone again. Before its departure, though, Mel kept on sniffing the box, meowing for her brother. Where had her Andre gone, after all?

Before they split, Mr. Gabriel ended up throwing out some of Cal’s band and music performance assessment awards. Mrs. Gabriel wanted to keep some of them, but Mr. Gabriel asked her what she was even going to do with them. She didn’t know.

After Zero Day, after the suicide of both her son and a boy who she practically treated as her own, Calvin’s mother now cannot stand seeing pictures of Calvin— she starts tearing up, breaking down in tears as she remembers what he did. But as Calvin’s little brother and sister grew older, they began to understand the weight of what their deceased big brother did. They no longer ask about him anymore, no longer ask why he died, no longer ask their mother and father about why they were crying; they don’t particularly enjoy watching the color drain from their parents’ faces at the mention of their firstborn. Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel didn’t explain the “Cal situation” willingly; they never do anymore. Calvin Kenneth Gabriel has become an unspeakable topic. He existed at one point, though. He sure did.

Mr. Gabriel suggested getting rid of most photos containing Cal and only keeping the ones of him when he was young, but Mrs. Gabriel refused. Instead, while she took down the several wall-framed photos of him, she keeps each photo of him in a separate box. Later on, the Gabriel parents ended up splitting due to their contrasting views of their late oldest son. Once he got past his anguish, Mr. Gabriel now holds resentment toward Calvin for what he did. He feels like he was a disgrace and truly only sees him as a killer. Following the anger and bewilderment she experienced, however, Ms. Gabriel now feels profuse amounts of sorrow and even accountability. Deep down, she wishes she could’ve done something to help Cal. Anything that would’ve knocked some sense into him. Anything that would’ve prompted him to second think what he was going to do. She also wishes that he and Andre had never been friends. She wishes they’d never even met in the first place. She wishes Cal had never been born, either, as if that could’ve prevented the future teenage murderer from acting on his desires with his “comrade”. But she feels a bit disgusted with herself over these dehumanizing thoughts and feelings.

Andre’s father cannot listen to certain songs or engage in different activities without painfully recalling various memories revolving around himself and Andre. He and Andre sometimes used to go fishing, used to go hunting together. But now, when he goes to try and confront his thoughts by occupying himself in these hobbies, albeit alone, he feels like he’s attempting to reenact special moments that remain lost yet dearly missed. Like he’s trying to fill in the emotional gaps he finds himself containing, as if he wants to act like Andre is still here. Like he never went and did what he did. As a result, he fell into a bit of a depression following Andre’s death. Because now he’s lost 2 sons. Both of his children died in the worst scenarios possible, and it feels as if both of his little boys just slipped through his fingertips.

Occasionally, Mrs. Kriegman visits Andre and Cal’s crosses and leaves flowers and small gifts near them, such as necklaces and other Jewish jewelry. She doesn’t try to talk to their crosses, though, knowing that she’d become hysterical if she even gave herself the chance to speak with both boys in their places of rest. She doesn’t like to picture where they might be now, though. Also, she still talks to Ms. Gabriel. From a mother to a mother, they understand each other and what they’re going through, in a way. But Mrs. Kriegman could not sit through the released footage of the Zero Day tapes, and she wanted to faint when she was shown the photographs of Calvin and Andre’s corpses in court. In the media, Mrs. Kriegman is primarily labeled by a mother who failed, and she mostly believes what news articles discuss about her, villainizing her following the charges she and her husband previously sustained. She thinks they’re in the right for criticizing her, because if it hadn’t been for her and her husband, the Iroquois High School massacre wouldn’t have occurred, right? Yet, she has a difficult time comprehending that Cal and Andre were indeed lost causes. Truly, not much could have torn them away from what they’d planned for months. And nothing… nothing could have certainly prepared the Kriegman and Gabriel families to discover what their children were capable of.

[beardedmrbean]

Ex-Gov. Andrew Cuomo committed “medical malpractice” and publicly undercounted the total number of COVID-related nursing home deaths in New York during the worst period of the killer pandemic, a damning final investigative report released by a key House panel found.

The report from the Republican-led House Select Subcommittee on the Coronavirus Pandemic, released Monday, also concluded that Cuomo “likely gave false statements” about his role in pandemic decision-making.

That includes him actually being “directly involved” in the infamous March 2020 edict directing nursing homes to admit recovering COVID-19 patients — and downplaying pandemic-related deaths of residents in a July 2020 report, the House panel found.

In another finding, the report concluded that Cuomo “acted in a manner consistent with an attempt to inappropriately influence the testimony of a witness and obstruct the Select Subcommittee’s investigation,” referring to his contacts with former adviser James Malatras.

The House had previously released documents laying out the allegations about Cuomo and his administration’s actions — but the more-than 500-page final report paints a devastating picture of the three-term Democratic governor’s decisions that the subcommittee claims undermined public health.

Cuomo — who is weighing a political comeback run for mayor after resigning as governor in 2021 amid sexual misconduct accusations he denied — ripped the report as a partisan GOP witch hunt.

“This is the same weak gruel the MAGA Republicans on this committee have been peddling for months if not years,” said Cuomo spokesman Richard Azzopardi.

But Rep. Brad Wenstrup, an Ohio Republican who chaired the panel, said in the opening letter of the report that there was bipartisan consensus on numerous topics including “that former New York Governor Andrew Cuomo participated in medical malpractice and publicly covered up the total number of nursing home fatalities in New York.”

A more than 40-page section of the report focuses solely on Cuomo and the state government’s response to the pandemic. Cuomo’s name appears in the report 203 times.

Among the findings alleged in the report are that:

The Cuomo administration’s March 25, 2020 directive to admit or readmit recovering COVID-19 patients into nursing homes was “medical malpractice,” “antithetical to known science” and inconsistent with federal guidance — and the Executive Chamber “attempted to cover it up.”

Contrary to his denials during House testimony, Cuomo and his top aides and advisers were “directly Involved” in and approved the infamous directive, which was later rescinded following public outcry.

Cuomo administration officials testified that the governor ordered the controversial July 6, 2020 state Department of Health report — which was criticized for lowballing nursing home resident deaths from COVID — to combat criticism of the March 25 edict.

Cuomo was directly involved in editing the July report and directing people outside the government — such as Northwell Health CEO Michael Dowling and Greater NY Hospital CEO Kenneth Raske to review it. In a memo shortly before the report’s release and obtained by the House panel, Dowling offered to help “rewrite” it.

Cuomo’s executive chamber decided to remove “out-of-facility” fatalities — such as nursing home residents who died from COVID after falling ill and being transferred to hospitals — from the July report, thus dramatically reducing the total death toll.

The panel also concluded that “Mr. Andrew Cuomo Likely Gave False Statements to the Select Subcommittee in Violation of 18 U.S.C” — a federal crime that if proven could result in a sentence of five years in prison.

The committee in October said it had referred Cuomo’s “criminally false statements” to the US Department of Justice for potential prosecution.

Cuomo’s rep, Azzopardi, claimed the House was out to get “perceived political enemies.”

“From the very beginning this has been an abuse of power and a waste of taxpayer money aimed at punishing perceived political enemies – like Dr. [Anthony] Fauci [then Director of the National Institute of Infectious Diseases], Governor Cuomo and ‘the deep state’ – that does nothing to make us more prepared for the next pandemic,” he said.

He claimed federal data showed that New York ranked 39th in terms of per capita nursing home deaths in 2020.

“The DOJ -three times – the Manhattan DA and others looked at the nursing home issue and found no wrongdoing, while the meritless civil lawsuit launched by the very same people who have been working arm and arm with this committee was tossed out of court,” Azzopardi added.

Families of loved ones who were nursing home residents and died from COVID said Cuomo was finally being held to account.

“Cuomo has been lying about following the Trump CDC guidelines for years,” said Peter Arbeeny, whose father, Norman, died from the virus after being released from a Brooklyn nursing home.

“If the Cuomo administration would have followed the Trump [administration] CDC guidelines and also used the the USS Comfort ship and Javits Center [for more patients], thousands of lives would have been saved.”

[wishmaster]

I’m hosting a party but I was hoping we could make anyone who rocked up turn into a twink I invited a few coworkers and gym buddies who need to loosen up!

I gift you this welcome mat, place this where they enter, who ever steps on or over it becomes a new man, a younger very twinkish gay horny man.

You take it home and get your place ready for your party. you lay the mat down and the entire time you wonder if it works.

You check yourself in the mirror before your curiosity gets the better of you. You walk out and walk back in over the mat. You feel something flow through your body as you return to your mirror to see if it worked.

Staring back was twink version of yourself, your sexy, slutty costume seems to fit your new persona. Damn you're so damn horny if you could you'd fuck yourself. Your new twink Go Go boy life takes hold just before your first guest arrives. The man you were before you crossed your new welcome mat quickly faded from your memory , you check your new needy fat ass in the mirror, it's firm new look showing off in the extremely tight leather pants.

The doorbell rings

It's your workmates you invited.

Your new persona wonders who the fuck these losers were, but as they stepped through the door they each changed.

Debra was first, she passed the mat and suddenly.

She quickly transformed into Jose, who was the gayest of your work friends, he had the most clothing on now, his talent in the club was stripping and teasing his fit body, having being female when she crossed the door mat she was the least twinkish of the three.

Next was Harold, the boss of your old job.

He became Jamal, the wildest of your new work friends, his costume was so tight it barely contained his twinkish young body, he immediately began making out with Jose as your final work friend, Jon crossed the door, he was sexy but ripped so when he transformed it was the least dramatic as at work he was more shy.

His shyness disappeared AS the flirty and horny new Jax stepped into your house immediately rush to plant the most intense kiss on your needy new lips. His kisses shifted from your lips to your nipples were you screamed out in joy as you noticed how much higher your voice was now.

Your next group of friends arrived from the gym.

you were shocked at how stern these boys looked, acting tough, like they reallly didn't want to be there. They needed to loosen up.

George , left, entered first as he did he became Jorge and extremely wild

Brad, in the middle entered next,

Brad became the star dancer at your new job and your best friend, he rushed to you and you both gave air kisses.

Kyle walked through in his sexiest Witchy look he could find, he started twerking put his firm new bubble butt on stage as he joined the Twinks only party. You party quickly became a fuck fest as your door closed and the mat disappeared. As it did everyone in your house were cemented in their new lives.

[charlotte-wolfe]

Brad Pitt x Fem!Reader

Teacher!Brad!Pitt X Student!Fem!reader

Warnings : mention of cold / college / eye contact / use of y/n / mention of performing arts / rubbing pussy / skirts / swearing / whimpering / whispering / panting / moaning / teasing / waist holding / door creaking / v in p / smacking / shaking / screaming / squealing / aggressive sex /

The cold winter breeze drifted across your face as you walked to college. Your nose and cheeks were a rose pink. No matter how many layers you wore, you’d always be cold. Your legs and arms shook as your bottom lip quivered. Finally you open the door to college and the warm air conditioning hits you, making a sigh of relief leave you mouth. You walked to tutor and then sat down in your usual chair. The chair was cold making you shiver slightly. Whilst taking off your scarf the new tutor walked in and immediately made eye contact with you before looking away awkwardly. “Erm.. Good morning class. My name is Mr.Pitt. I will be your new tutor until you leave.” He glances at you and then coughs onto his hand. He wore these glasses that defined his eyes quite well. His shirt was neatly tucked and obviously had ironed it before coming in. “So why don’t you call introduce yourselves and say something about you?” He looks at you then points his pencil at you. He raised an eyebrow signalling if you want to start. You nod shyly and smack your lips together before speaking. “My name is Y/N and I like the performing arts.” He smiles at you and stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. He bites his lip then continues the tutoring without remembering to ask everyone else for their names. He was so lost in thought, he was imagining you. “So Y/N. Would you mind staying after tutor just for a minute to help me mark some papers? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind?” You nod and smile a little. Mr.Pitt chuckles and looks down at the ground suddenly he looks at the time and tells everyone to leave except you. He walks up to you when everyone has left. He elegantly squats in front of you seat. “So, I don’t actually need you to help mark any papers, sweetie.” He groans a little then bites his lip at you. You look at him shyly and Mr.Pitt whispers to you. “Why don’t you get in my car with me? We go to my place and hang out?” He gently strokes your thigh and tilts his head at you. “Okay… I’ll go with you.” He smiles widely at you and takes you outside. The cold air slams against your face and you both walk to his car. He opens the door for you then goes in his side. Just as he grabs the steering wheel he turns to you and softly speaks. “You can call me Brad.” You nod at him.

*TIMESKIP*

The doors creaks open as Brad pushes it. You walk in first and he shuts the door behind him. Brad walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Holy fuck. I need you. When I first saw you I thought, I need to fuck this girl. You’re so hot.” Brad gently lifts up your skirt behind you and rubs his index finger on your clothed pussy making you whimper. He groans in your ear satisfactorily. He slips your panties to the side and gently fingers your pussy. You moan and bend over slightly. He kisses the back of your neck softly and stops fingering you. Brad pulls it out and forcefully bends you over his sofa. He rips your panties open and immediately undoes his belt. “Oh fuck…” Brad lets his hard cock swing out and he immediately starts fucking you relentlessly. He smacks your ass angrily, moans escaped your mouth like gunshots. Brad goes even faster which makes you suddenly scream his name. “Oh fuck! Brad! Brad!” Your head was dug into one of his silk pillows. “I felt your pussy tighten. Are you close?” He leans in slightly as he fucks you harder. You literally couldn’t respond because you were so lost in the pleasure. “Are you gonna fucking answer me, slut?” He smacks your ass again making you squeal with your moans. Everything that escaped your mouth was muffled. His cock twitched inside of you and immediately you knew he was close too. He groaned into your eyes as he continued fucking you hard. Suddenly you scream aloud, your legs were shaking because you had just came and he was still going. Brad thrusts his hips one more time and he cums all over you pussy and inside. He pants and pulls out of you. “Your pussys so good.” You lift your head off the pillow and look at him. He sits you up and kisses you softly. “We should do this again tomorrow after college. Wear something sexy.” You smile at him and he drives you back to college. Suddenly you realise your panties are ripped but nobody’s going to really see except Brad so you ignored it. He dropped you off at college and the cold air immediately brushed against you, your spine sent chills down your body and you finally walked into college. After blowing a kiss to Brad you walked back to class and did the rest of the day.

[ryanmarshallryan]

GAME SHOW FOOD CHALLENGE

VORETOBER SHORT VORE STORY DAY 19

“For your next challenge, we’ve loaded up an extra long sloppy joe with some of the hottest hot sauce we could find, with a 2M Scoville rating -” the announcer began, beckoning to a waiter who came in holding a large sandwich. Evan, the one competing in the eating contest, nodded understanding, approached the waiter, picked him up and swallowed him whole. The waiter in his surprise dropped the sloppy joe onto the ground. The announcer gasped in confusion, watching the waiter wriggle and writhe down into Evan’s stomach. Buttons began popping open on Evan’s shirt until the fabric gave way all together and ripped down the side.

“For such a high scoville rating, Joe wasn’t that hot!” Evan said, catching his breath and rubbing his gut after downing such a big meal.

“You ate the waiter? I didn’t say a guy named Joe, I said a sloppy Joe!”

“Hey I thought his name was Joe, and he was dressed pretty sloppy. Don’t matter none now though,” Evan said, slapping his gut that was showing signs of squirming insides and deformed lumpy shapes beneath the layers of fat. He noticed the sloppy joe on the ground that the waiter had dropped, picked it up and gulped it down as well, dripping sauce onto his belly. He took a deep breath to calm his taste buds from the hot sauce, belched and continued, “I see what you were saying, that was pretty hot. All right, what’s next?”

After a pause the announcer shrugged and went on, “Next up, you’ll be eating bread, but not just any bread -”

“Wait just clarifying, you want me to eat another guy named Brad? I’m okay eating one guy, but I don’t know if I can handle eating a whole party if this keeps going…”

“Bread! Bread, not Brad!” the announcer said, then turned to one of his crew members holding one of the close up cameras for the game show, “Brad you better go take a break until the next contestant comes out.”

Featuring TeaCub from grommr as Evan the pred :)

[coderooster]

I've solved it guys!

Major spoilers ahead if you haven't seen the leaks...

So, a lot of this goes off things I've heard because someone (Oliver) has a habit of deleting things straight away. Anyway, here goes.

I think we all agree there's just too much laxity when it comes to filming this funeral and now wake if Bobby is ACTUALLY dead. Not only have they filmed in a very public place and not tried to stop people taking photos and videos but there was the photo from inside the firehouse from a crew member that shows a like memorial table in the background. Add on that supposedly Oliver posted a photo of a script page that says or suggests Bobby is buried alive, then we can assume that he's still alive, just maybe buried? (Although I believe this was posted 1st April so who knows yknow?)

Now HOW does he end up buried alive? Well, we also know Gerrard is back as captain of the 118 somehow, despite landing his dream role on Hotshots in 8x04. Why would he give up that job and come back to captain when we all know Hen is there and perfectly capable of taking over? One word. Brad.

Another recent post-delete of Oliver's was a still of Brad hugging Bobby. And it looked like Callum Blue was part of the photo the cast were taking together during the filming of the procession. And we all remember how the 911 social media was posting Brad and only Brad for months on end. So it's possible Brad is back. Why?

Brad hates Gerrard. He hates Gerrard because he's not Bobby. Brad is obsessed with Bobby and I don't know about you guys but he also gives off real sketchy vibes. He was verbally abusing someone on the phone and nothing came of that? He shouted at that poor waitress? And was generally and all round dick to anyone who wasnt Bobby? And yeah, Bobby put him in his place but it just always felt like they were setting him up to be a major villain but then just stuck him with a last minute redemption arc when he talked the jumper down and somehow convinced Eddie to move to Texas. Well this is the moment. He's become the villain.

I think Brad has had enough of Gerrard and thinks the only way to get rid of him is to send him back to captain the 118, because not only will that get him Bobby back, but it will also punish those that took Bobby away from him in the first place. He saw how close Bobby was with the 118 and knew he wouldn't just willingly leave without a fight from either Bobby or the 118 so he has to stop that fight from happening And because Brad is a dramatic piece of shit he's gonna do this via a fake death-buried-alive-ripped straight-from-a-TV-melodrama-script scenario to just sweeten the deal. The 118 are traumatised and grieving their heroic captain, Gerrard goes back to captain the 118 in the interim at least while they find a permanent replacement for Bobby. But then Bobby is found alive! Wow! Thank God! Its a miracle! But oh no! Gerrard is already back captaining the 118! Well, to make things simpler Bobby can just come back to Hotshots! Boom, Brad gets his best mate Bobby back!

So yeah. Brad did it. Or at least that's my theory, from what I've heard/seen.

[hypermoyashi]

Hello, Trigun fandom! Recently, we ran a server exchange event on the Pen Pals discord server, where everyone made something for everyone who signed up! I wanted to promo all the works that were created for this event, as everyone really went above and beyond to create something amazing for it.

I want to thank everyone who contributed, and for making it a wonderful event to run.

Please check out the works created by our wonderfully talented members! And be sure to check to ao3 itself for any additional warnings and tags that may be relevant.

to new heights by @beesinspades for @nexadarling: 2k | G | Livio & Razlo

Razlo stiffens, fighting the urge to rip his hand away. Only reason he’s not shaking her off is because she’s holding on so tightly he might snap her little wrist. Don’t wanna deal with angry parents and bills Livio will insist on paying with the money he just earned. That, and it turns out when one does honest work, hurting clients doesn't bring more jobs. (They won’t be welcome in Voldoor for a while.) (Bastard deserved it, though.)

The Phantom Pain by legendofthesevenstars for @fish-ears: 3k | G | Livio & Wolfwood, Razlo & Wolfwood

Livio and Razlo deal with an unexpected haunting at the orphanage.

Oh, let the suns beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream by @spectre-writes for @hypermoyashi: 10k | T | Tesla & Vash, Luida & Tesla, Brad & Tesla | CWs: Mild Body Horror, Disability, Trauma

Tesla dreams that she dies. It must be a dream, because it doesn’t last.

Frosted Snow Trees by Plumerias_of_BlueMaroon for @spectre-writes: 10k | G | Meryl & Vash & Wolfwood & Milly | CWs: Chronic Pain

Weather fluctuations were common on No Man's Land, tending mostly towards heat, and less towards anywhere close to cool during the daytime where two suns bore down on the planet's heat-reflecting sands. However, on occasion, there were times where cold could descend unpredicted by anyone. That is to say, anyone human. Among the many items of Lost Technology that the crashed colonies had lost, so was the knowledge that plants, of all things, tended to be incompatible with the cold, and actually fell into a sort of stasis that resembled, faintly, the concept of hibernation. But who would ever think to remember that on a desert planet? Even Vash hadn't known, not to this extent.

blossoming by @markcampbells for Plumerias_of_BlueMaroon: 5k | T | Milly/Vash, Milly & Vash | CWs: Referenced Transphobia

"Can I ask where you're taking me?" she asks softly. "I know I found the place for the mochi ice cream, but you said it wouldn't be just that…" "Well, of course not. Just dessert wouldn't be a proper night out. I wanted tonight to have all the trimmings." He puts on a goofy smile, just for her. "We're almost at the restaurant, so I'll let that speak for itself, but after—it'll be a light meal beforehand, so I thought maybe you wouldn't mind—would you like to go dancing with me?" Following their getting to know each other better, Vash and Milly go on their promised night out for mochi and many other things besides. A followup to lend a friend a hand.

We Get Through by @nexadarling for legendofthesevenstars: 2k | T | Meryl & Milly & Vash & Wolfwood, Milly & Wolfwood, Vash & Wolfwood

“I had it under control,” Vash yells, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “You didn’t have to–” “Like hell you did!” Wolfwood interrupts. “You even had the girls involved, and I was supposed to, what, just let it–” Vash pokes a finger hard into the center of Wolfwood’s chest. “I wouldn’t have let anything–” “You know, and a ‘thank you’ would be nice every now and–” Wolfwood’s mouth clicks shut as a gunshot rings out in the clearing. Wolfwood watches over Vash’s shoulder as Milly’s shoulder jerks back, as she falls with a scream, hand curled around her arm. Milly gets shot. She also takes it better than pretty much anyone else.

A Good Feeling by @hypermoyashi for @bendycxmet: 5k | T | Vash/Wolfwood, Vash & Meryl, Meryl/Milly | CWs: Misogyny, Heteronormativity, Amatonormativity

Vash, as the princess's personal guard, is meant to ward Meryl from physical threats during the ball; too bad most of the threats aren't physical ones, with Meryl forced to deal with the expectations of high society and Vash not able to say a word. Thankfully, a chipper princess comes to her rescue.

Deck the Malls by @bendycxmet for @markcampbells: 6k | T | Vash/Wolfwood, Meryl/Milly

Especially with the hustle and bustle the holidays bring, Vash and Wolfwood were two much-needed seasonal hires for the fashion shop. And who was Wolfwood kidding, he also thought of this job as an excuse to hang around Vash more often, to see his boyfriend and sneak kisses in the stockroom throughout the day, breaking apart when they would hear the incoming echoes of Knives’ loafers or Elendira’s heels on the tile floor.

And then finally!! @tea-n-shade did some wonderful artwork for @beesinspades based on their fic for the event!! Please go take a look at the artwork, as well!

[astro-nomaly]

The Graveyard Shift: Thus Saith the Lord

Me? Posting two TGS snippets in as many days about the same fucking topic? More likely than you think. Here is part 1. Or 2 it doesn't really matter what order you read it in. This is actually canon to TGS, as in it’s a legitimate scene in chapter 40 so. Spoilers ig? Lots of missing context but I did my best to fill in the blanks

@highbookwormofthecentury @mother-spore-missa @flirty-anon @dumb-about-legos @pinkyprom3is come get yo food y'all :D

CW: murder, forced murder, child abuse, child murder and death, blood and gore, emetophobia, cult setting, cult brainwashing, fear mongering, religious trauma, religious abuse, mentioned stalking, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, victim blaming, cannibalism, implied torture, psychological horror, surrealism

Content under the cut (this is over 6k so sorry if it crashes your browser)

Thus Saith the Lord

Lloyd screamed as the world blended into blackness. He and Harumi, locked together, tumbled through blackness. He didn't let up the fight, tearing at her hair as she ripped at his skin and clothes. They snarled at each other, uncaring of the ground quickly catching up to them.

Just as Harumi raked her hand across his nose, they hit the floor. The force of the impact shoved them apart, sending Lloyd rolling in the opposite direction. He gasped, the breath ripped from his lungs.

Before he could blink away the spots in his eyes, Harumi was back on top of him. Her manic grin shone in the black as she came in swinging. It was only instinct that had Lloyd catching her hand, bending and kicking her off. The girl stumbled back a few feet, and her hand went to her hip. Lloyd waited on one knee, ready to sprint to the side when she drew her knife.

But she didn't. Harumi blinked in a rare show of confusion, giving a double take at her empty hip. Her hand grasped at empty air.

She glared at him. They both breathed heavily, breath ragged from the ongoing fight. Lloyd half expected Akita to burst in snarling, ready to take advantage of their state, but she didn't.

It was quiet. Way too quiet.

Last Lloyd remembered, Harumi had been straddling him and strangling him, trying to knock him out. She'd been in his body, which meant she was way too big to kick off, and his ghosts had been preoccupied with Akita and the cultists, so he couldn't call for their help. So he'd gripped the sides of Brad's Harumi's face, practically shoving his fingers into her eye sockets, and screamed her name. He'd been woozy, and unsure what he was planning to do.

But something had worked, because they were here. Wherever here was.

Lloyd chanced a look around. Confusion began to replace the adrenaline as the environment came into focus around them. They were in a dark corridor lit by dim artificial light that bled through decorative stained glass windows. There was darkness on one end, and slightly lighter darkness on the other. The air smelt faintly of mildew.

Lloyd slowly stood, keeping Harumi in his peripheral. But she seemed as confused as he did. "Where are we?" He muttered, brushing his fingertips against the stone wall.

Harumi shot him an ugly glare. "How should I know? You did this, Conduit."

Lloyd rolled his eyes. "Wasn't talking to you, Quiet One."

"I'm the only person here, genius! God, how are you in AP classes-"

"I'm not the insane cultist, crazy!"

"That wasn't even a topic-"

Their argument was interrupted by a faint sound down the corridor. They both froze, Lloyd instinctively holding out his hand for his weapon. But it doesn't form from the energy of the Veil. He blinked, stunned. His power hadn't failed him since he had Veil Sickness.

Lloyd turned to look at Harumi. Now that he really looked, she didn't seem confused as to where they were, so much as why. Right. Harumi Hutchins was the most compulsive, pathological, insane liar he'd ever met in his entire fucking life. Of course she knew where they were.

"Harumi," he said. She didn't look at him, just kept staring down the hall. He balled his fist up at his side. "Where are we?"

"I don't know."

"You do."

Harumi rolled her eyes. "Alright, sure. I recognize the damn place."

"I knew it!"

"Hurrah," Harumi mocked, clapping her hands mockingly. "You're a little genius. Now take us back, so I can murder that stupid fucking mutt and finish kidnapping you."

Lloyd recoiled. "I didn't do this," he protested, "I have no idea how to go back."

Harumi gave him that condescending look he hated, like she thought she was so much better than him. The look she wore when she started talking about how she 'knew him better than he knew himself' as if she didn't only know that because she was a manic stalker.

"Of course you did. You grabbed my face like a little maniac-"

"You were strangling me!"

"-And yelled, and now we're here! Of course it was you, Conduit. Now take us back."

Lloyd stepped back. "And let you get your hands on the Realm Crystal? Absolutely not. And I'm not letting you kill Akita either."

She smirked, placing a hand on her hip. "Oh, riiiiight. I forgot! She's for you to kill, my bad. That is what you two have been doing, right? You know, between all the screaming and betrayal and, oh yeah, knives, I was under the impression you didn't give a fuck if the mutt died."

Lloyd glanced away, flushing. He hated it when she did this, talked in circles around him like he was an idiot. He hated how familiar it was. Every single thing he'd ever found endearing or sweet or funny about Harumi had become some horrific reminder of what a terrible person his best friend was.

Oh, but of course, she never was his best friend. She was his stalker, manipulator, would-be kidnapper and abuser. Not his friend. Not even fucking close.

"Doesn't matter," he spat. "Even if I wanted to, I have no idea how."

Harumi made an angry sound. "Your power is wasted on you," she snarled. Before he could back up, she stalked over and snatched his wrist. He tugged at it, trying to twist out of her hold, but it was iron-tight.

Harumi didn't say another word, turning on her heel as she stalked down the hall. Lloyd dragged his feet, tugging against her grip. "Let me go!" He grunted, beating his fist against her wrist. Her eye twitched, but she didn't spare him a glance. Her bright pink nails dug into his skin.

"Shut up, Conduit," she snapped, "I'm getting the hell out of here, and then you're coming with me. I have not been chasing you all over the goddamn country just for some paltry little trick to stop me from getting what I want."

Lloyd glowered, but stopped fighting. He was sore all over, and pretty confident he had a concussion. He resented it, but Harumi never took no for an answer. He followed her down the hall.

The noise they heard earlier gradually grew louder, more repetitive. It was weird. Lloyd swallowed, glancing at the dark shadows of the hall from the corner of his peripherals.

"Where are we, Harumi?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

"Yes you do."

"Fine!" She snapped, whipping around. Pink eyes, bordered by the black sclera they shared, glared at him. "Yes, I know where we are, but it makes no fucking sense! This isn't the real world, and I have no idea how we are where we are, or where we actually are!"

Lloyd took the chance to snatch his hand back. "Then where are we?!"

"Fuck, don't you ever listen?!" Harumi crowded up into his face. This time, he refused to duck back. He was so tired of letting her push and push. So this time, they end up inches from each other's noses. "I. Don't. Know." She hissed. In the light, her red face paint looks like real blood. "You grabbed me, and said my name, and now we're here. So, Conduit, why don't you. Tell. Me."

Lloyd glared right back, hatred seething under his skin. It could be nothing but hatred. The other options are too painful.

He really does want to believe that the rest of the team can handle everything, but he doesn't. Not that he has no faith in them, but Harumi, as irritating as she is, is usually right when she's not lying out of her ass. They're not in the real world. How could they be? They were just fighting each other in the middle of the woods, in the temple. And now they're, what, underground? It made no sense.

So… he had done something. This was the result of his powers. Again.

He backed up, dropping the glare. He thought for a moment. He usually only yelled names like that for his ghosts when he needed their power boosts. But with Harumi… he'd been woozy from the strangulation. He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking, or if he'd only yelled out of desperation.

"Wait," he said, lifting his head. Harumi gave him an irritated 'go on' gesture. "I… when I yell the names of ghosts, I sometimes get their memories. Or, well, emotions. From when they died."

Harumi pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fucking moron. I'm not a ghost, and this isn't a fucking-" the noise from down the hall returned. Harumi paused. She stared at the floor, gaze far aware.

Lloyd craned his neck, trying to catch her gaze. "Harumi?"

"…memory," she whispered. Suddenly she straightened, neck snapping as she stared down the corridor. Her wide eyes were locked on the dim lighting emitting from the end of the hall. The same noise echoed down the stone. Harumi's lips parted slightly. "No," she hissed, "not this one."

Without another word, she bolted down the hall. Lloyd balked, confused as hell. Harumi was obsessively one-track-minded. She'd done nothing but try and kidnap him for months, why would she run away from him?

Not away from him. Toward something.

Harumi was dead, once. She'd confessed as much in his grandfather's tomb, in his abandoned apartment. She had died, and was resurrected. Was the only person to ever be.

So how did those memories work?

Lloyd ran down the hall, chasing Harumi's back. The sounds grew louder, the dim light brighter, until he emerged in a large circular room with a tall dome ceiling. He slowed to a halt, looking around. It was at least two stories large and lined in bleachers, like the ones in the pictures of the acropolis his mom showed him. They were packed with people, each one with a dark hood over their head, shadowing their faces against dark figures.

What really caught his attention was the kid.

A girl, no older than thirteen, was shackled to the ground in the very center of the chamber. Her hands were bound by thick vengestone cuffs, giving her barely five inches of lead. She wore a plain white nightgown that did nothing to protect her from the damp cold. She was gagged. The noise came from her, scared little whimpers as she stared through the strands of her stringy brown hair at the crowd gathered.

Harumi stood, frozen, at a pillar. She was staring at the girl, eyes wide. Not panicked or surprised, just wide and almost… in shock. The kind of shock people experienced after natural disasters where they got that dead-eyed look in their face.

"Harumi?" He said quietly. "What is this?"

She didn't respond to him. She just stared at the girl. "Not this one," she whispered to herself. "Not this one."

He looked back to the girl. "Is this you?" He asked, stepping closer. Harumi was unpredictable, these days, like a bomb that was constantly active. There was no way to defuse her, but there were ways to make her even more explosive. "Is this your memory?"

He's interrupted by a loud, yet somehow soft voice. "My family," it says, carrying over the entire chamber. Lloyd flinches, trying to place it. Harumi stiffens, her hand digging into the pillar.

"I have gathered you for a very disappointing announcement," the voice, male, continues. "It has been brought to my attention that Dove Elizabeth Hollister," the girl bound to the floor flinched violently, "Has committed a truly heinous appropriation of our rules."

The voice makes itself seen. A man, tall and thin with an angular face and deep purple eyes and black sclera. Liminal, then. He was dressed in a strange black and purple robe set, like an old-timey priest, save for the hat. His hair was slick and oily, smoothed down over his skull.

Harumi's hand shook at the sight of him. Despite himself, Lloyd found himself shifting to place his body between the man and Harumi.

The girl on the ground shook too, whining as he drew closer. Lloyd wanted to do something, but he knew he couldn't. This was a memory. There was nothing to be done.

"Who is that?" He hissed.

"The Overlord," Harumi said quietly.

"Pretentious name, isn't it?"

"He's a pretentious guy."

The man paced, projecting his voice for the whole chamber to hear. "This girl has brought outside knowledge to our protected home! She has brought taint and rot to our place of worship, and in doing so, defied our God and Her ordinances." Murmuring flowed through the crowd, whispering dissent. The Overlord nodded sagely. "Yes, yes! She has dissented, defied, denied our God's teachings. She has brought what would have tainted us all, had this not been brought to light."

The murmuring grew louder, and Dove shook in place. Tears pooled in big brown eyes. She had white sclera. She wasn't Liminal. Why was she here?

The Overlord raised his hands, quieting the talking. "Yes, yes, I understand! But, please, my friends and family, listen to my words. Is there not regret?" Dove looked up, hope shining in teary eyes. The Overlord nodding, circling the young girl. "There is! Regret, sorrow, repentance, even!' The man stood in front of the girl, looking down into her pale, tear-streaked face. He bent down, his face only inches from hers. His hand shot up, snatching her by the cheeks. She shrieked behind the gag. "Regret at being caught!" He yelled, and the chamber erupted in enraged yelling.

Voices overlapped, echoing in the dark room. Yells, jeers, insults thrown at the girl chained to the ground. Anxiety slowly curdled in Lloyd's stomach.

This was Harumi's memory, but that girl wasn't Harumi. So where was Harumi?

He glanced at her. She hadn't even twitched, still enraptured in the scene before them.

Why 'not this one'?

Lloyd swallowed, and turned back to the memory.

The Overlord had stood back up again, his face passive as he looked down at the girl from the tip of his nose. "That's right," he said. "Dove here is not the one who brought such dissent and disobedience to my attention! She had no intention of bringing it to attention! This girl has misbehaved for all the time she's been here, a dissenter since the beginning. This, this horrible and incorrigible act, only proves the existence of the rot that has taken place in her soul! A rot she would have spread to the rest of you!" He spun, spreading his arms to the crowd gathered. They murmured amongst one another, anxious and quiet.

The Overlord smiled, nodding along. "Yes, I thought the same. How could she do such a thing? Are we not a family, formed by the love and truth brought by our God? But that is what made me reconsider." Dove blinked, newfound hope finding a place in her eyes. Harumi's nails dug into the pillar.

"For we are a merciful family, for what is death but merciful? So, I considered mercy. Do we not all misstep, in our youth? Stumble, along the path to the truth, tempted by taint created by a world shrouded in lies? Can we blame the girl? After all, is it not difficult to discern the truth from lies, when you have never been told a lie?"

"This is insane," Lloyd muttered, shaking his head as he backed up. He glanced at Harumi. "W-we need to leave," he whispered. They're still enemies, and he's still planning on killing her when they get out of here, but he doesn't want to be here any more than she apparently does.

Harumi doesn't acknowledge him at all. She just keeps staring. Lloyd has no idea how he would leave anyways, so he sighs and crosses his arm, gripping the rough fabric of his jacket.

"The world pastes over the truth with lies and sugarcoated candies," the Overlord preaches, pacing around Dove's crouched body. "But our God, our Eminent Preeminent, has never told us a lie! Every word, beautiful or sad, is the truth. Can we blame the child, for asking the same of the world?"

The crowd murmurs, nodding in agreeance. The Overlord, who Lloyd is really starting to hate just based off of vibes, smiles and presses a sincere hand to his chest. "It was these questions and considerations that led me to choose mercy. For what is death, but mercy?"

Lloyd's brows furrowed at those words. Why had he said it like that?

The Overlord turned to face them. Lloyd flinched, but he wasn't looking at them. He was looking past them, into the dark hall.

Wait a minute. This was Harumi's memory. They'd both appeared in that hall.

Had he missed something?

"It was not Dove who brought this transgression to my attention, no," the Overlord said, "but a child gifted to us through tragedy. A child who knows the repercussions of lies. Quiet One, step forward."

Lloyd's breath caught in his throat as he whipped his head around. His eyes went wide at the sight. A young girl, younger than Dove, stepped out of the shadows. She was barefoot, and wearing a simple white dress and overcoat. Her hair was a similar white, bangs hanging over pink eyes bordered by black sclera.

That was Harumi. That's where she came in.

A traitor, just like she'd always been.

Dove's eyes went wide at the sight of Harumi, flooded by betrayal first. Then came the rage. The girl shrieked behind her gag, lunging forward despite her unforgiving chains.

The small version of Harumi stood uncertainly in the archway. The real Harumi, sixteen, choked on her own breath. She stared at the smaller version of herself, twitching.

"Not this one," she whispered in a strangled voice. "Goddammit, not this one."

"Harumi?" Lloyd said. His chest felt tight. Everything here felt all wrong. Something very, very bad was about to happen. And despite everything, the stalking and manipulating and gaslighting and kidnapping and murder and Brad Tudabone, he still didn't want anything bad to happen to Harumi. He still loved her too much.

Not enough to stop trying to kill her. But enough to really, really not want to.

The Overlord extended his hand, ignoring the furious shrieks of the girl beneath him. "Yes. The Quiet One knows the tragedy lies bring. But from that tragedy, we have been given a gift." The Overlord stepped forward, taking the young Harumi under his hand. He placed it on her back, spreading the other arm to the crowd gathered as if presenting her. "Not the one we have been looking for-" Lloyd's blood curdled. The Conduit. "-But a gift nonetheless. A gift, to make us pure again when we misstep. To put tainted souls to good use, so that even in dissent, we may serve Her Eminence. A path… to absolution."

The Overlord reached into his robes, drawing out a long, sharp vengestone dagger. The memory of Harumi looked confused, scared, as he pressed the handle into her thin fingers. She looked up, questioning silently.

The Overlord shook his head sadly, pressing that faux sincere to his breast. "It pains me, truly, to admit. But alive… Dove cannot be saved. She has no intention of genuine repentance, and no love for the home we have here. There are many punishments for dissent, but I have chosen the path of mercy for our misguided child. The path on which she will serve the Preeminent… by serving our Mistress' young chosen."

Harumi and Dove stared at one another, frozen as their eyes met across the room. The white-haired girl clutched the knife close to her chest. Dove's hands clawed at the chains binding her to the ground.

A sacrificial lamb.

No.

Lloyd stared at Harumi's memory. She was young. Innocent. Doe eyes wide in fear. Dove wasn't the lamb — Harumi was.

The real Harumi spun, bracing her hand against the pillar she stood beside, her other hand coming up to block her face from view. She trembled, staring wide-eyed at the ground with the same far-away look. "No, no no no…" she mumbled to herself.

The Overlord pushed the young memory of Harumi forward. The girl stumbled, legs trembling. She looked back, questioning.

The Overlord nodded. "Take it, Quiet One," he commanded, "And put her body and soul to good use."

Harumi looked back at Dove. The other girl trembled, slowly shaking her head in fear. The Overlord held up a hand, then, stopping them both. "Of course, we are merciful. So, in the interest of such…" He moved behind Dove, and waved a flippant hand. The gag around Dove's mouth melted away. "I will allow her her last words."

Dove wasted no time. "You SNITCH!"

The Overlord tsked, shaking his head. "How unfortunate." He leveled Harumi with a cruel look. "Quiet One. Now."

Harumi slowly advanced on Dove, holding the knife between her two hands. Dove screamed, struggling against her binds. They offered her no room to back away, but she didn't let up. The cuffs chafed against her raw wrists, smearing blood over pale skin. "You snitch, you snitch, you told on me you- no, no!" Dove's bare feet scrabbled against the stone as she flailed to get away. The memory of Harumi kept walking.

"It was a comic!"Dove screamed. "It was just a comic, I wasn't doing anything wrong, it was a fucking- I just wanted to read Spider-Man! I just wanted to read a comic, stop! Stop, stop!"

Harumi's memory spoke for the first time. "Stop talking," she whispered. Lloyd's arm wrapped around his stomach, the other covering his mouth. He felt sick.

Dove didn't stop talking. She shrieked, "SNITCH! You little fucking snitch, you brat, you tattled on me! How could you- you fucking snitch!"

The knife in Harumi's grip shook at her side. "Stop talking."

The real Harumi dry heaved, a broken wheeze cracking out from her blood-red lips. Lloyd backed away.

Dove kicked out when Harumi got too close, shrieking. She was sobbing now, fresh tears and snot pouring down her face. A ghostly hand snaked up from the floor and snatched both of Dove's ankles, holding her down. Lloyd's breath became strangled.

"NO!" Dove screamed, "you snitch, you snitch, you little fucking snitch snitch snitch snitch-!"

Harumi heaved again at his side. Her hand came up to her throat as she breathed heavily, panting. Dove kept screaming and crying. The white-haired child kept shaking.

"Stop. Talking."

"SNITCH SNITCH SNITCH YOU SNITCH-!"

Something in Harumi cracked. Her face contorted in rage, and the knife in her hand raised high above her head. Dove screamed bloody murder. Harumi screamed right back.

"BE QUIET!"

The knife came down and buried itself in Dove's collarbone. Harumi, at Lloyd's side, whined.

Lloyd's eyes slammed shut as he stumbled back again. The sound, though, did not disappear behind closed eyes. He could hear it all in perfect clarity. The knife plunged in, and the distinct sound of blood sprayed up. Dove screamed, gurgling in the back of her throat. Harumi's memory kept screaming.

"QUIET! BE QUIET!"

The Quiet One.

Lloyd had built up a tolerance for the grotesque. He'd seen desecrated corpses, reanimated rotting carcasses, the horrific remains of ghosts and their final moments. He looked at Kai's burned form, bubbling with pockets of pus, every day. He looked at Nya's bloated, drowned face, pouring water from her mouth, every day. He saw Zane's gruesome frostbite scars, and Jay's singed corpse, and Cole's caved-in head, brain splattered across his face. He'd grown desensitized to the dead to the point where he barely noticed his friends were dead. Hell, crazy shit had happened to him. He'd had his radius ripped out, had been possessed by his own cousin, had broken bones and ripped organs fighting the Quiet One and Red. And still he wanted to gag.

The dagger went down, again and again as Harumi pulled it out of Dove's corpse and shoved it back in. Lloyd's breath came in strangled and tight.

Finally, the sound stopped. Both Liminal teens stood still, breathing heavily. Harumi, at Lloyd's side, wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand. Tears burned her pink irises.

Lloyd opened his eyes, chancing a look. The corpse of the girl had been brutalized. Her guts spilled from her chest, bloody entrails dying her dress red. Her eyes were still open, staring up at the ceiling. Harumi, the memory, was bent over. Her hands were locked around the handle of the dagger, still buried in Dove's collar. The girl shook, sucking in ragged breaths through an open mouth.

The crowd had dispersed. It was Harumi's memory — had she forgotten the presence of the cultists, or had they left? Had that much time really passed?

The Overlord remained. The man rested a large hand on Harumi's shoulder. Then that hand moved to cradle her head, stroking snow-white hair. The young girl slowly wound down, her shoulders untensing.

Then that hand tightened, and pressed down. Harumi's memory tensed again, tightening her arms to hold herself up in a surprising show of strength. She gasped, looking back as much as she could with the hand holding her head in place. "Wh-what-?"

"Eat, Quiet One."

Harumi puked. Lloyd gagged, pressing a fist to his mouth. The entire day has been too much, and this is the icing on the cake. God, no. No.

Eat her? Eat her?

"I like mine rare."

The way the Quiet One was bone-thin. The way Harumi never ate unless they were at his house, the place she confessed she loved. The dinner table where Uncle Wu sat them all down and made pho.

Eat her?!

Lloyd looked up. Harumi's memory was staring wide-eyed at her murder victim. The real Harumi had turned around. They both watched on. Lloyd, on the ground, Harumi standing to his left. And between their figures several feet apart, kneeling in the middle of a sacrificial altar, Harumi Hutchins bores down on her victim.

"Wait," Harumi whispered. "Wait, please. I- I can't. I can't eat Dove."

The Overlord tsked. "I expect better from you. You killed her, child. Now finish the job."

"N-no, wait," Harumi strained against the hand holding her down. "Please, I can't. Please don't make me." Lloyd's vision swam. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never, not once, heard Harumi beg. In fact, the closest she'd ever gotten was his grandfather's tomb, screaming and demanding that he return to the cult with her. Pouring her entire soul out, baring herself just for him to panic and run. And even then, she hadn't begged.

Harumi Hutchins did not beg. She demanded, and took, and pushed you out of her way until she had what she wanted. But she did not beg.

The memory of the girl whimpered. "Please. D-Dove was my friend, I love her, I- please don't make me eat her."

The Overlord tutted. "How disappointing. After three years, I thought you'd have learned. Have you not learned from your parents, Quiet One? If you don't eat her, her soul will remain broken. You will be dooming her to agony. When the Preeminent comes and gives us Heaven, it is Dove alone who will be left behind, because you are too selfish to finish what you started."

Harumi whined, shaking her head. "I didn't mean it! I- I just wanted to protect her-"

The Overlord sighed. "I see. I have been too lenient, I understand now." He pet her hair, fingers snagging the tangles in her hair, a clear threat. Harumi shook under him, but leaned into the touch. The real Harumi's fists clenched. "I have coddled you. I thought you had learned, after that little mongrel you brought in. A mongrel I was kind enough to allow you to keep, in a much purer form. I thought we were past this. But you are still acting like a child. It's my fault — I've coddled you too much, lent you too much leniency. I intend to rectify this now."

He shoved Harumi's head down further. The girl held herself up, arms shaking. She was forced to take a hand from the dagger, bracing it against the bloody shoulder blade of her dead friend. She gasped, face hovering over the strewn entrails.

"No, no no no-"

"Now, Quiet One," the Overlord growled. "Or you will be punished."

Harumi's eyes flicked frantically. Her breath came in short, strangled bursts as she stared at the guts under her.

"No!"

The memory shoved herself away, rolling out from under the overbearing hand. She stood, shaking. "I won't," she said. Her voice came out quiet and warbling. "I won't eat her."

Lloyd looked between her and the Overlord. Back and forth. One pale face, scared and tiny, streaked with tears. One sallow face, hard and angular with cruelty.

The Overlord sighed through his nose. He stood straight, drawing himself up to tower over her. He placed on hand behind his back and raised the other. His thin, narrowed eyes glared down at the girl. "I hope you know," he whispered, "that you made me do this. You could have ended this night with a warm bath. I would have let you play that music you like, given you the tea you like, and you would have gone to sleep in your bed. Now, you have forced me to punish you." He shook his head sadly. "So unfortunate, that some lessons must be learned the hand way."

He snapped his fingers. Ghastly, dripping black hands rose from the floor. Shades. Lloyd gaped as they snagged around the young girl's arms and legs. She shrieked, tugging away, but they didn't let up. The sharp claws of ghosts tore at her clothes and skin, ripping away at the minimal fabric covering her.

Lloyd turned his face away before he could see the rest. The young girl bled from numerous scratches, shivering in the cold room, stripped naked. Harumi didn't avert her eyes from the sight. She just stared at her younger self, eye twitching.

The memory hugged herself, shrinking away as the Overlord stepped forward. Her bottom lip trembled.

The Overlord showed no emotion. "You made me do this. Remember that, Quiet One. You're wasting her."

His hand shot out, snagging the girl by her hair. He dragged her, kicking and screaming bloody murder, out of the chamber. The corpse, tugged along by the Veil energy the Overlord commanded, followed.

The door banged shut, and the echoes of Harumi's screams faded away. The room melted around them, leaving them in a void of blackness.

Lloyd panted. Shakily, he turned to Harumi. She hadn't moved, still staring after a sight that had dissipated. Lloyd slowly approached her, bridging the gap.

"Harumi," he whispered. She didn't acknowledge him. "R-Rumi, god, I- I'm so sorry. I get it now. This— fuck, this wasn't your fault. What they did to you, fuck, it's so messed up. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should've tried to understand—"

He babbled, words falling from chapped lips. All this time- fuck, all this time. He's so tired. He wants to go home.

"Please, Rumi, we can leave. Let's leave, okay? I'll explain everything to Akita, and she'll understand, I swear. We can leave! We can forget everything and go home. I'll take you away from them, I can take you away from this place. I'm the Conduit, I can protect you, I can keep you safe."

He took her hand, standing in front of her. He tried to catch her dead gaze, but even as he placed himself right in front of himself, she didn't look at him. She stared right through him, like he wasn't even there. He cupped her cheek. He grew desperate, too tired and sick and sore to keep this up. "Rumi, we can go now. I'll tell 'Kita, and we can go home. Please, let's go now. Let's go home-"

A sound, behind him. He froze. Slowly, he turned.

He hadn't even realized that the scene had changed, leaving them in a pitch black cell. The small form of Harumi's past self was crouched over a rotted carcass, fiercely tearing away at the flesh. She shoved tendons and sinew down her throat, slurping down slimy entrails. She heaved through it, barely pausing to chew as she chewed through organs.

Lloyd puked.

He bent over, falling to his hands and knees as he retched. The memory kept tearing at the skin and flesh, burying her face in the shoulder blades. Lloyd gasped, dry-heaving.

Harumi stepped over him, looking down at herself. Lloyd gagged, shutting his eyes against the sound and smell. Harumi remained quiet. Then, she glanced over her shoulder. Bright pink eyes shone in the darkness.

"Do you?" Harumi whispered. It's the first words she's spoken since, well, everything. "Do you get it?"

Lloyd says nothing. How could he?

"You don't," she says lowly. Fists ball at her sides. "Because if you did, you would come with me. You would understand. You would help me. You would help fix it. It was never- never Dove who needed fixing, don't you get it?"

Lloyd swallowed back the taste of bile. "Rumi…"

She turned all the way around, bearing down on him. "It was me," Harumi snapped, like he hadn't said anything at all. "It was me. D-Dove didn't need fixing, I did! Because I was forgetting, and slipping. It wasn't a punishment, it was motivation! Because my parents weren't enough, and the fucking cat wasn't enough, and I had to be reminded!"

"Harumi, please. W-what they did to you, I- I'm so sorry, but I can- I can get you out. I'll help you, and we'll tell Akita, and we'll go home." Lloyd reached for Harumi's hand. He wants to be done, now. He wants to take his friends and go home.

But she snatches her hand back. He thinks that's the moment he loses her.

"I had to be reminded," she said coolly. "Don't you get it? My- my parents, the cat, Dove, your boss and fucking- fucking Brad Tudabone, they aren't normal! They aren't like ghosts or poltergeists or shades or Hauntings or any inane fucking word you want to use for a dead person. They are husks. They are empty, soulless husks, and they are broken. They, because I killed them, every person I killed and ate, are doomed to eternal purgatory! They are doomed to agony in hell! Everybody I have ever killed, every body I took, every face I took and wore and spoke with is doomed to hell in my body!" Her voice cracked as it rose, louder and louder until she's practically screaming in raw, halted desperation. "Everybody and every body is in hell in my body, my body is HELL to everybody and every BODY! I am HELL!"

She has him cornered. He falls back in his scramble to get away from the ticking time bomb, and she stands over him, ragged and insane. Harumi Hutchins is insane. Her white hair is wild, strewn over a bloody face.

"I need to," she said, chest heaving, "to fix it. To fix them. To make them whole under the Veil, and make me real again, and get all these bodies out of my fucking body. I need to. I- I have doomed everybody I ever killed to hell in my body while I steal their bodies." Her trembling hand clutched the collar of her shirt. "To make them whole again. The- the Preeminent will fix them. She will. It's the only way to make myself good again."

Lloyd shook his head, dumbfounded. "Harumi, you can't believe that," he whispered. "After what we just saw? You can't believe a word of that."

"That my body is hell? I believe it."

"Rumi, you're not hell-"

"I AM!" She screamed. A boot came up and slammed down on his chest. Lloyd grunted, falling back. She slowly pressed more and more weight onto the foot holding him down as she spoke. "I am hell to every single body and soul that I have ever murdered and cannibalized, but I will make it right and good, because I am going to unite everybody under the Veil of Death. You are going to activate the Realm Crystal, and you will bring forth the Preeminent, and She is going to make me real and whole again." She laughed, then, a broken cracked thing. "She is going to be God, and you will be God, and I. Will be God."

Lloyd heaved, his hands locked around her ankle. "You-" he wheezed, eyes wide as he stared at her. All this time… he'd really believed there was something in there to save. He'd really thought that there was some sliver of humanity in the Quiet One, that she wasn't as evil as she acted. It really proved just how good a liar she was. "You're insane."

Harumi's insane look slowly narrowed. He'd forgotten. As completely insane as she was, she was calculating and cold. And driven. That one-track mind… it really would kill them all.

She let out a breathless laugh, wheezing as it tapered off. "Oh, Conduit. I thought you trusted my judgment."

Before he can even blink, Harumi snatches him by the collar of his shirt and jerks him up. Her own head comes down, and she slams their foreheads together with a sickening CRACK! For the second time that night, everything goes dark.

[myuiis]

incorrect lookism

these were really popular on reddit back in my mxtx days so :)

1:

vasco: so what if i press the gas and the brakes at the same time?

daniel: the car takes a screenshot

zack: please shut the fuck up

2:

zack: why are you like this

johan: i used too much 'no more tears shampoo for kids' as a child and haven't felt any emotions since then

3:

goo: me, an intellectual--

gun: you, an intellectual?

4:

samuel: he died of natural causes

jake: you pushed him into a fucking fire

samuel: fire is natural

5:

daniel: oh boy, its pretty cold today

jay: here, daniel, borrow my coat

goo, looking at them: damn, it's cold today

gun: well shit, not like i can change the weather

6:

daniel, trying to flirt: hows the sexiest person here doing?

jay: i dont know, how are they doing?

daniel, blushing: i- 

zack, from across the room: i'm doing great, thanks for asking

7:

samuel: pass the chili

jake: whats the magic word?

samuel: or else

jake: thats two words but point taken

8:

jake: it's really muggy outside today

samuel: if i go outside and all our mugs are on the front lawn, i'm going to kill you

jake: sips coffee from bowl

9:

goo: yall know what? if youre not perfect, that's okay

goo: you don't have to be perfect. you don't have to feel bad about yourself for not being perfect

goo, putting on sunglasses: because obviously, nobody can be as perfect as me is and that is completely normal

10:

jace: can you recommend me a book that made you cry

zack: general mathematics 6th edition

11:

sinu: what if we inverted our initials? i'll start: hinu san

jake: kake jim

jerry: kerry jwon

jason: yason joon

brad: lrad bee

samuel: samuel se-- this is a stupid game

12:

eli: i unironically believe that i have suffered more than jesus

13:

daniel: *sneezes*

gun: bless you my favorite successor

johan: *sneezes*

gun: get that diseased trash away from me

14:

zack: dating tip: hold the door for your date. rip the door off its hinges. use the door as a weapon to fight off other men. establish dominance

daniel: i really begin to see why youre single

15:

[lookism at disneyland on the spinning teacup rides]

eli and warren: [spinning slowly while calmly talking]

gun and goo: [spinning slightly faster while having a heated argument]

jake and jerry: [flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming]