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inuhalfdemon · 4 months

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Dirty Dealings (1/21)

Word count = 1,454 Words

Chapter 1: The Deal

“I do not deal in…sexual favors. I find them rather….distasteful. No offense, I hope. Still…” He sighed. “I find there are times it does need stated…” - Alastor

June 25th, 1950

New Orleans, Louisiana

She knew not to go into the forest. She knew even in the light of day, it held its monsters. Now - despite knowing this - in the fading half-moon’s light, she was running deep into its depths. Branches grabbed and tore at her, ripping at her clothes and tearing at her skin. Desperate, she wiped away at the tears that were streaming, blurring her vision.

Clouds skirted the black of night, dimming what was left of the dwindling moonlight even more. Her chest flared painfully from her flight, air rasping sharply into her lungs with each gasp. Stumbling, her feet slid into bog; warm, swampy water sliding over her knees and threatening to hold her fast to the sucking mud beneath. She struggled to keep her momentum, half-crawling up a slick bank of reeds and muck.

Trembling, she paused, pulling air into her burning lungs; feeling the throbbing ache of muscles all over. Pinpricks of light danced and sparked as blinking, she shakily rose from her knees and looked around. She couldn’t run anymore. She was very near to passing out as it was. Blinking again, she waited for the small bursts of light to separate themselves from the soft glow of skittering fireflies.

A cool breeze crept through the swamp and she felt goosebumps crawl across her skin; the hair on the back of her neck rising like hackles. A low groan came from the nearly complete darkness. A mass of shadow moved just beyond the bog; something both solid and hulking but spindly and frighteningly long in limb. Feeling all strength leave her body, she sunk to her knees; starring at the stark form that shifted against the dark of night. It was impossible to make out what was lurking directly before her but she could hear the soft tearing of flesh, the snapping of bones…

An involuntary noise crept from her throat and the thing’s form jerked, bright green eyes burning through the darkness to rest on her. Her heart was in her throat. Every part of her recoiled from whatever this thing was. But, this was it. Her last chance.

“…y-you…you’re a demon.” She gulped, steadying her voice. “I’ve come….I’ve come to make a deal.”

The thing made no move, it’s green eyes smoldering; she wasn’t sure if it was even breathing.

Clenching her fists, she screamed at it; “Well!? What are you waiting for!?”

The black mass shifted, moving ever so slightly toward her. Parts of the unnatural darkness caught a sliver of moonlight, and she thought she saw a quick impression of massive antlers moving among the limbs of surrounding trees. Before she could fathom more, a cool blackness enveloped her into nothing…

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Sounds of the swamp came to her first; the creaking of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft buzz and fizz of dragonflies, the soft cooing of an owl somewhere beyond all of it. A flare of light shocked her eyesight and she blinked blindly against the blaze. A flame quickly dimmed, a surreal candle casting light across a small, bog meadow. The candle occupied an antique tea table that stood with two chairs beside it. Sitting at the table, sipping at a steaming teacup was a…..man?

No, he wasn’t a man. He was very tall and long limbed. He wore a vibrant red, pin-striped suit with stark black dress pants and the nicest shoes she had ever seen. Soft candlelight danced from a monocle resting at his right eye. Stranger still, he had red and black hair; styled rather uniquely into a bizarre haircut. He hummed softly to himself as he sipped his tea, seemingly unbothered by her quiet staring.

She blinked rapidly, trying to make out the odd hat he was wearing when he spoke, “My apologies, my dear. My deepest apologies. You caught me in the midst of a feed…the midst of dinner. Not my usual first impression I like for my potential clients to have of me, I assure you.” His voice crackled like it was being played from a radio.

While he was talking she realized he was wearing no hat. Atop of his head were what looked to be a pair of long….ears and even more absurd…a small pair of antlers. The ears swept smoothly with his movements and were even expressive in their placements. They were just like the ears…and antlers of a deer. Most disconcerting though was his smile…

He cocked his head, the smile growing bigger across his face.

“You are a potential client, aren’t you?” He said it like he was enjoying some private joke.

She shivered.

“Oh, where are my manners tonight!?” He exclaimed. “You’ll catch cold, darling. Here.”

His fingers snapped, there were bright sparks of green and she suddenly was dressed in dry, warm clothes and a hot cup of tea appeared at the opposite end of the small table, near the empty chair. Rising, he pulled the chair out for her, sweeping his arm dramatically to invite her to sit.

Slowly, she went to the chair. He slid it smoothly underneath her before going back to his own chair.

“Please. Enjoy.” He continued to smile, going back to his tea.

Her hands shook as she took the hot cup in her hands. It radiated heat and promised warmth. Bringing it to her lips, she sipped. Instantly, she felt her veins flare with a comforting heat and a burst of flavor flooded her mouth.

“I hope I got the spices, right.” He conversed. “The senses tend to get a little muddled when…well…” He shrugged, still smiling like he found humor in some subtle punchline.

“So….” He sipped from his cup. “You want to a make a deal?”

“Yes…” She breathed.

“Hmm…Interesting.” He smiled, almost to himself now. “Can’t say that I’m not terribly curious as to what you might have in mind.” He smiled fully at her now.

“I…” She started, “I’m not sure how to begin…”

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing, waiting.

“I need more time.” She breathed, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t she continued, “So much of my life…it’s been wasted. I haven’t gotten to do any of the things I’ve wanted…need to do.”

She was having trouble finding the words.

“…I just can’t continue living the life I am now…”

“I see…” His smile glaring back at her. “What…terms have you considered?”

She was confused by the question briefly, then realizing what he was asking she dug into a pocket and was relieved to find it still within her possession. Carefully, she pulled the smooth wooden ring into the light of the candle and slid it toward him. Still smiling, he watched her place the ring before him, then looking at her he laughed lightly.

“Oh, I’m afraid this won’t do.” He picked the ring up between his index finger and thumb. His smile never faltering, his eyes tightened and the ring burst into a lick of green flame before disappearing completely. “Mere trinkets are of little use to me.”

She gasped, watching her one prized possession winking out of existence completely.

Swallowing, she persisted. “What terms would you prefer?”

His eyes softened, his smile never leaving his lips. “I’ve had my hand in a great many sort of deals.” He assured her. “As long as the terms are equally rewarding to both parties, I’ll agree to just about anything.”

“Except.” He emphasized. “I do not deal in…sexual favors. I find them rather….distasteful. No offense, I hope. Still…” He sighed. “I find there are times it does need stated…”

“What do you want then.” She said, her teeth clenching.

“Oh, I think you know.” He told her, his smile jeering at her now. “You knew I was a demon and you knew a deal could be struck with me.” He sat up straighter now. “What do you think I would want?”

“I won’t just give you my soul…” She said.

“And, I won’t just give you what you are asking for free.” He sneered. “You want more time? You want to go on and live happily and freely at your leisure with no obligation? No consequence? At the cost of something with absolutely no value to me. I decline.”

She stood up, her anger flaring in her desperation. She pressed her hands heavily onto the table, glaring back at his smug, smiling face.

“Then take my soul.” She snapped. “Take it from me when I no longer want it.”

His eyebrows shot up, his smile tightening, his interest piqued.

“Just…give me more time first. Let me live my life, do the things that I want and when I’m done…my soul is yours.”

He laughed, heartily.

Taking her hand, his smile twisting into a wicked snarl.

“Deal.”

And she was consumed in green.

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Chapter 2

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

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Welcome to the Carousel House in Gallatin, Tennessee.

Interesting- I wonder where the Freddy Kreuger carousel came from.

For what must’ve been spent on these horses, I bet they could’ve afforded better furniture.

This one has a plaque, so maybe it was restored.

They don’t look antique, so I’m wondering if they’re just new decorative pieces.

In this room, there’s a vintage rocking horse, as well.

I love that piece- it must’ve come off a carousel. Maybe it’s a calliope. Is that Jiminy Cricket on the coffee table.

What is happening in the kitchen? Not one stinkin’ horse. Look at the sink- that’s different. I like the wallpaper, too.

Gee, couldn’t they get a runner? I can’t help feeling that something is missing in the way this collection is displayed.

I like this room. It has a nice ambiance and color.

If this is the main bedroom, it’s awfully bland.

Don’t care for the en suite.

The yard has a path that leads down to a footbridge.

That leads to a dock for a boat. ($2M)

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/164-Hidden-Cove-Ct-Gallatin-TN-37066/42399852_zpid/

#carousel house #carousel horse collection #modern architecture #long post

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chaosworthy · 1 year

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Instructions: Bold whichever hobby your muse feels deeply passionate about, italicize the ones that are more like casual interests to them, & finally, strikeout the ones that they are not likely to take an interest in. Repost. Do not reblog!

birdwatching, pottery, oil painting, drawing, singing, acting, breakdancing, fashion design, cooking, baking, mixology, bodybuilding, beekeeping, crocheting, knitting, sewing, embroidery, fishing, flower arranging, gardening, graphic design, rock climbing, surfing, swimming, lute

kayaking, canoeing, rafting, metalworking, foraging, candlemaking, rapping, mixed martial arts, karate, judo, taekwondo, kung fu, muay thai, brazilian jiu-jitsu, krav maga, aikido, boxing, fencing, tennis, table tennis, stamp collecting, wrestling, capoeira, archery, swordsmanship, viola

kickboxing, origami, gaming, photography, paintball, parkour, figure skating, rollerblading, reading, poetry writing, scrapbooking, skiing, snowboarding, scuba diving, snorkeling, woodworking, video game development and design, whittling, whale-watching, yoga, meditation

stand-up comedy, gymnastics, skydiving, travel, blacksmithing, baseball, basketball, volleyball, golf, american football, rugby, cricket, soccer, cosplaying, hunting, horseback riding, jogging, larping, cycling, shopping, sailing, sculpture, vlogging, journaling, palm reading, tarot cards

witchcraft, ballet, jewelry-making, topiary, tabletop roleplaying, calligraphy, pole dancing, zumba, rock collecting, crossword puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, motorsports, taming animals, hacking, tattoo artistry, storm chasing, ballroom dancing, flower pressing, competitive eating

flying planes, flying spacecrafts, blogging, model building, model engineering, building with legos, building in the sims, stenciling, soapmaking, miming, ventriloquy, computer programming, trivia, ghost-hunting, chasing down mysteries, kite flying, hiking, robotics, watercolour painting

softball, house flipping, sudoku, chess, winemaking, breadmaking, cheesemaking, gossiping, clubbing, salsa dancing, poker, badminton, bowling, bocce, ice hockey, track and field, cross country, astrology, stargazing, colouring, prose writing, makeup artistry, quilting

leathercraft, piano, violin, acrylic painting, guitar, ink painting, sketching, flute, clarinet, hula hooping, toy collecting, spray painting, research, language learning, board games, hairstyling, keeping up with the latest trends, brainteasers, cartography, drums, comic book collecting

digital painting, songwriting, cleaning, freestyle dancing, podcast hosting, toymaking, bingo, pilates, sightseeing, cheerleading, wine tasting, camping, antiquing, metal detecting, art collecting, home brewing, memorabilia collecting, tapestry weaving, thrifting, modeling

shoemaking, furniture building, home improvement, essay writing, leaf pressing, conducting science experiments, skull collecting, mountain biking, dumpster diving, roasting coffee, brewing tea, harp, puppetry, skateboarding, saxophone, trombone, tuba, trumpet, cello, ukulele

#give a little time to me | queue #beyond the lyrics | aesthetic | mina

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peddling-rp-memes · 1 year

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Repost, don't reblog. I didn't make this meme, but can't find the op. Please tag them if you know who they are.

instructions: bold whichever hobby your muse feels deeply passionate about, italicize the ones that are more like casual interests for them, & finally strikeout the ones that they are not likely to take an interest in. repost, do not reblog!

softball, house flipping, sudoku, chess, winemaking, breadmaking, cheesemaking, gossiping, clubbing, salsa dancing, poker, badminton, bowling, ice hockey, track and field, cross country, astrology, stargazing, colouring, prose writing, makeup artistry, quilting

#rb #checklist meme #muse meme #queued from beyond

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spacebookettes · 1 year

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Book 6… Secret Manors

She woke dreamily into a warm bedroom… NOT Her bedroom. The shock of a strange bohemian room with almost rainbow colours, a mirrored dressing table with antique jewellery; delicate classical pieces, some with gems. A giant painting glances down at her. She gets up and uses the adjacent loo. Quilted loo roll. The bathroom is a slightly luminous green, with old threaded beads strung loosely around the panelling and doorway. All the fixtures are antique but she isn’t sure if that loo roll is modern or antique itself. Maybe just a wealthy persons make of loo paper. It is sunny back in the bedroom, the light intensifies as she looks up and around. She feels an old radiator, it is cold, so must be summer time.

She leaves the bedroom onto an old delicate hallway, down some stairs she slowly creeps. The kitchen has fruit and freshly made bread. A full stomach and she is looking out to a kitchen garden of slightly familiar vegetables, but the varieties she has never seen before. The growing techniques are a little unconventional. She makes her way through double glass doors into a sitting room, more large paintings are lazily unmoved by her presence… all but one, who’s unpainted eyes blink.

The library back up the stairs full of books written in perhaps Greek, she isn’t sure. The house is silent, the garden has no bird calls or crickets, the sky is blue. She can see a sprawling garden in the distance, it is lush but does not look Greek. Back in the library she searches the books for something she can read, a door way bookshelf opens with a light ‘thunk’. Inside is a circular spiralling down staircase carved out of an irregular rock cave shaft. The banister is simple though ornate, made of metal. Above her is a shallow glass dome letting the light in. The walls are carved shelves with simple earthenware urns places on them. Each urn is slightly different though they all look fashioned along the same principals or perhaps by the same person; they spiral down with the staircase into the slight gloom with warm light highlighting a lower floor, she can see the stairs continue down further into darkness from this level. She descends. At the next level is a cave exit into a grand garden for the Dead. She walks admiring the abundant though unfamiliar plant life. Something ‘criks’ from the undergrowth. A green glass hand parts the foliage, a green glass body comes after the hand and glass arm, it is carrying a basket of apples; it hovers at body height, a little pulse of green lightning generated below it’s body; no discernible eyes, just the clear glassy green body and arms. The robot ignores her and carries on back toward the cave.

Up the spiral staircase and into the library, she is following. It places two apples on a table in the library and goes downstairs and into the kitchen, where it hovers in a corner.

She goes back down the hidden spiral staircase from the library, she continues past the lower floor and into the darkness. She creeps down the stairs silently, to a sandy cave floor. A cave passageway leads into sunlight, large fronds of palm like bushes. She hears a human humming and stays hidden behind the fronds. A small man, a sort of classical fisherman type is humming and trundling happily along a path, he does not notice her. She follows the path in the opposite direction staying inside the frond cover. A town. A coastal village of rickety Tudor cottages, she sneaks her way through the misty back alleys and lanes, past quiet pubs, past a loud raucous pub onto the centre of the village; a duck pond. Parked next to it is a sleek hovering antique carriage. A smallish laughing man with moustache of the conniving variety, immaculate suit, expensive phone to his ear. Laughing the laugh of a nastily wealthy man. The carriage hovers away toward the other unexplored side of the seaside town. She explores the rest of the village unnoticed. At the edge of town, a little into the frond bushes is an old medieval stone cloistered building, long lines of arches and central courtyards of plain grass. Along the sheltered open air passageways stone shelves and urns in the same style but again all slightly different: perhaps the dead can come and go as they please. Behind the cloistered building is a small ornamentally carved stone house. Its arch features are similar in design to the larger buildings. She goes around to the back and listens near a high open window. It sounds like Greek they are speaking, with a slow pronounced plum to its accent, low and considered. She notices a path that leads beyond the small house and follows it.

The ground is soft, wet, a bog. Mist, cooler damp air, mangrove palms cast shadow everywhere; there is still a path, that leads to a gargantuan old tree: with more palm fronds, though its branches are twisted in serpent like meanderings. Dull silver coloured tubes are twisted around the branches holding them into the malformed positions.

Chapter 2

Back in the manor house. The robot has disappeared. She eats some more. Makes her way to the upper floor and looks inside the other bedrooms: All colorful though plainly decorated, looks like no one occupies any of them. She reaches a turreted stone staircase spiralling Cosily upward. At the top is a room with long views of palm like forests. She can see the garden for the dead it sprawls out away from the large house. She looks out towards the ocean, a distant lighthouse. The village is quiet still, only the occasional person about some errands. It would all be beautiful to her, if not totally alien. A dream paradise with familiar comforts, only totally surreal. She spies the end of a beach and just visible, a stairway up the distant cliff face.

Back unseen through the village she reaches the end of the beach and ascends the stairs up to a colder clifftop. Low bushes with miniature split patterned palm fronds... they retract and close up as she touches them, an automatic response to whatever munches up here she believes. A tall hooked claw like rock, orange in colour it reaches three stories into the sky. Silvery water bubbles up from its base, it surrounds the stone claw in a pool. The plant life keeps its distance from the strange water and the stream that runs away from the peculiar rock. The miniature palmed moors stream off into hillocks and mounds of all distant sizes.

She walks back down to the beach, she hears children and stands behind the larger palm bushes. The kids stand below the stairs up the cliff face. Giggling they look upwards excited and scared, pushing each other towards the stairway. A cold wind blows down from the cliff with just a hint of dog barking. The children run back down the beach. She makes her way past them through the palm fronds and back through the coastal village town. The other side is more beach that leads to the lighthouse, at it’s base are stylized red waves painted. Locked. She shoves the door and it breaks open quite easily. Up through rooms of empty wooden crates, some remnants of past living, a kitchen with 360° views and finally a giant light bulb fitting but no giant light bulb. She looks out at everything and sees a wide cobbled road leading away from the town and into the distance.

Chapter 3

She sits in the library slumped looking at a large floor level painting, notices a thread, a long thread by the eyes like an eyelash; she pokes the eye and a flap of painting opens. Two eyes rise up to greet hers and look surprised. She backs away. The whole painting opens inwards and out steps a woman. “do you like, apples you call them?” she backs away from the small woman. “My name is Aromond”. The woman walks to the table with two apples and picks them up and walks back through the painting door, “come on".

They walk through behind the walls corridors. Down some behind the walls stairs. Along and then into a small wooden panelled hidden study, it has double glass doors leading out onto a small balcony, with views into the distance of the road leading away from the town. They sit and eat the apples. The green glass robot hovers into the room. Aromond speaks the Greek like language and asks it if anything unusual has been happening in the village. The robot answers that the spies have seen nothing. Though someone has been seen climbing the cliff stairs to Shadow Corps point.

“amazing work! Though You’ll need to do better, if you are to find your way back home”.

Chapter 3

She is sat behind a curtain inside a plain looking floating carriage. The road is long.

A new town surrounds the carriage; more tudor cottages, a duck lake with neat grass parkland. Brick industrial buildings next to the park. She slips out of the carriage as it is moving. Finds a patch of unused industrial buildings. Inspects them all. They are covered in moss, little plantlifes in all the cracks and damp corners. Behind some straggly overgrowth she sees a tunnel, a smooth bricked circular tunnel of deep terracotta. The long underground tunnel has occasional shafts up and open to the air… the shafts get taller and darker. The end of the tunnel has a shaft with no light at the top, she climbs its metal tubed ladder. At the top is a metal door hatch. It is locked. She pushes, it doesn’t move. She pushes her back up into the hatch, wedges her feet and pushes with full body strength. It ‘clanks’ open into a beautiful water garden. Fountains. Pools. Ponds. Cascading streams and rock pools. All informal with moss everywhere. Tiny palm fronds higher up attatched to the high rocky parts. The garden is surrounded by a high brick wall. One wooden gate that she swiftly breaks open. Along a path surrounded by palm tree forest. Not far a house made of lighter terracotta coloured bricks. The door is open. She’s been warned about the robots and checks every room before entering. Finds a study, behind a painting is the safe she had been told would be there. She listens for the clicks of a simplified locking mechanism; opens the safe. Inside are documents. She takes out a small rectangle, slides its lense opening sideways. Takes all the usual pictures and is away back through the secret gardens tunnel.

In the town she has a look around. A sign made with red circle and medical looking equipment designs surrounding. She peers inside from one corner of its window. A waiting room. Men and women sneezing into cloth masks. They all look very unwell. A doctor with another villain moustache ushers someone from the waiting room. The person who had been before them looks healthy and happy and leaves.

She continues into this new town, lots of raucous pubs... eventually another beach, misty and cooler. She hides in the mist and follows the beach to its end. There are caravan homes with the mist, along the beach, wider plastic rectangles with large windows and single wheels in the middle for moving them. No one sees her hidden in the mist. She looks out to sea. A grey boat that looks translucent, large with sails the design is nothing like she has seen before... it disappears into the mist. She turns and sees a gray woman in elaborate dress on the beach waving at where the boat was; the mist curls around her and is gone. She looks down at the rocks at the end of the beach, a little further along is a large sculpture of a Lockness type monster staring out to sea. This world could almost be cute she wonders, if it wasn’t so alien.

Chapter 4

Back in the first house, Aromond is telling her about the local legends, ghost ships with a terrible lady who betrayed many sailors. The large reptiles that swim in the seas around here, the sculpture is to scare them away; it is larger than the real ones, who only see in black and white. A local legend hermit who lives behind a waterfall, he makes polished glass crowns with the local sand: his cave behind the waterfall is filled with sparkling polished glass jewellery and tiaras, no one has found the cave, though there are plenty of waterfalls in the region.

The robot comes into the lounge and Aromond ushers her into another painting doorway to hide. She watches through more eye holes. A man walks into the room, he has the metal emblems of a lord mayor; he too has the conniving moustache. They look at odds whispering the greek like language. He smiles an evil smile and leaves the room. Aronmond does not beacon her to leave her hiding place and stands motionless in the centre of the room. Men come into the room and assault Aromond, she struggles and they begin to drag her from the room. She bursts through the painting and throws the men to the ground, stands in shock at her strength, she notices that the men are all slightly shorter than her. They regroup and attack, she beats them down again, they seem to be significantly weaker than her. The people of this world have evolved differently. She is a super woman here. A surge of excitement and the men are all tied up. The robot will see that the men are cared for... her and Aromond leave the house. She expertly hides them both from the towns people as they leave the village and go to the lighthouse. On the rocks behind is another Lockness sculpture. Under its head is a switch that Aromond presses. A dark blue submarine surfaces out of the water. They swim a little way to it and climb inside.

Chapter 5

They are laying back in hammocks, Aromond is singing translated ocean riddles... tales of hillock gremlins, hope goblins and tiny bakery flour stealers. Giant ocean crustacean-mollusks that hold pirate treasure made pearls; you have to break the precious pearls and hope for gems or the lost cities coinage. Giant sea reptiles are hated by fishermen’s mothers. Tales of oddly sugary syrup seas, the many coral pinks of the seas weeds. The submarine bleeps. Water rushes from under the compartment door. They get into the torpedo launch tubes and swim out into the cold water, they surface to see the cave ceiling of an underground beach of stalagmites and stalactites. They turn and watch the surfaced submarine bubble and sink into the water. Remote controlled sabotage Aromond says... “that’s why i sleep by the torpedo launch bay”.

They walk up the beach of solid rock and up a rock carved staircase. It seems to go up forever. They are almost dry when they reach the top. Hot and exausted. A dusty storage room, old boxes. Shelves of skinny blue dolls. They reach the front of the shop, a gift shop: ocean clowns, tall blue cloth figures with bark covered wooden swords. Spiny plastic sea creatures. All dusty. They reach the street of ruined modernist roman like buildings. Ruined fake columns. Cracked reinforced concrete pretend domes. Shells of rubble and old armless fake marble statues. They pass an ancient library, there is life inside. People are sat reading, large old canvas books with gold titles. None of them notice they are being watched. A wild goat-ling walks past staring at Aromond and her. More goat-ling eyes stare out from the ruins they now notice. They walk to a crumbling old train station and sit. It is getting quite dark now. Streams of solar powered party lights blink on all around the abandoned city. The moons twirl and dance with each other in the sky as Aromond tells her about the two cults. Their country is run by two secret cults. No one speaks of the cults openly and no one knows who might be a member of each cult. Most people try not to be apart of it but the secret organisations secretly organise everything in their country. They have no headquarters nor hidden bases. Everything is organised in the houses of the villages along the coastal regions. It is morning, some naughty children are throwing rocks at the ruined buildings. They come over with backpacks full of pasties. Aromond buys some. An old smelly diesel train grinds into the station, it’s blue fumes release at ground level onto the platform. They get on board. Aromond tells her about her involvement and why the men attacked her... the usual tales. The train cackles and stutters along the tracks through a desert, a large triangle of metal on the front shifts the shifting sands… distant hulled out skyscrapers, more ruins. They pass in between two colossus statues... naked stone men battling. A skeletal face peers out from a hood above them on a sand dune. They sleep in the dark of a night train. The train shunts to a stand still and they get off into a dark cool night. A platform, sand all around them. They follow a wooden raised pathway from the platform. The desert night is packed with bright pins of white light that collect into an arch across the centre of the deep blue nights sky. The wooden path is following this line across the sky. Behind a large sand dune is an outcropping of yellow rock. They walk between its cliffage. They reach a rock face of all carved palace, all around them. An ancient giant carved stone stepway walks up the cliff face at the far end. They ascend onto a high platform covered in pooling silver water. A flat reflective surface of trembling tension. Abstract star light flashes up to them as their feet make ripples in the shallow water. They reach a shiny silver chrome hatch shimmering in the middle of the high plateau. She breaks it’s fixtures and with all bodily might heaves the hatch doorway open. Water drains down into the dark hole. They climb down. Aromond takes out a little spark box that lights the underground rooms. There are puzzle symbols etched into the walls and a crude circuit board of the usual unmet connections. Aromond rearranges it and the symbols on the walls glow with fluorescent pink. A doorway opens. Inside is a room with a large deep blue painted stone serpent coiled around a stone tablet. On top is a small box. There were other small boxes around the floor, all empty. Aromond opens this box, inside is a posh mechanical watch, etched on the back are the words Naughtiless6363. This ancient watch is worth 20,000,000 says Aromond as she stuffs it into a pocket. The room rumbles, liquid silver stars to seep from the edges of the ceiling. They run back, but the hatch is closed again. She pushes her back into the hatch and wedges her feet pushing open the door, silver liquid gushes onto them

To be continued

#art #scifi #creative writing #artist #fantasy #book #short story #scifiandfantasy #fiction #secret room #secret mansion #hidden rooms #mystery

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izuku · 3 months

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instructions: bold whichever hobby your oc feels deeply passionate about, italicize the ones that are more like casual interests for them, & finally strikeout the ones that they are not likely to take an interest in.

#oc stuff #lillie delacour #q: izuque

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truelistmarketing · 11 months

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Truelist : Best Buy And Sell App

TrueList is India's leading buy and sell app and the largest local marketplace for purchasing and selling items. Our app provides an enjoyable and intuitive shopping experience, enabling you to sell your unwanted items, find great bargains on pre-owned products, and interact directly with sellers from the comfort of your home. With just a few clicks, you can post ads and sell items online in India effortlessly.

We offer a diverse range of products across categories including Mobiles, Cars and Bikes, Electronics, Real Estate, Fashion, and more, making TrueList a comprehensive platform for all your buying and selling needs.

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TrueList is India's top classified site and a one-stop-shop for all your shopping needs. Download the best buying and selling app today and become a part of India's largest online marketplace. Connect with us on LinkedIn - https://www.linkedin.com/showcase/truelistdeepnucleus Connect with us on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/truelistt Tweet to us - https://twitter.com/truelist Follow us on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/truelistt For support and queries, visit [email protected]

#best buy and sell app india's top classified site

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hvidbendsen8 · 2 years

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Discover a Luxurious Lifestyle With Flats in North Kolkata

North Kolkata and opulent lifestyle? These people are not quite synonymous to every other, right? Are you sure relating to this outlook? Well, the truth is based on a different story totally. North Kolkata essentially represents the antique charm from the metropolis. There something distinctive about the region. While walking over the lanes of this region, you'll take place across homes which were built through the British era as well as before. The lane are narrow exactly where you'll find kids succumb to playing 'gully cricket'. You'll are available across the regular retailers selling fried eatables or as the Bengalis call it 'Tele Bhaja' along with some iconic sweet shops. However, high-class lifestyle calls substantially more than like features. It phone calls for modern features that will enhance your living criteria and simplify it as well. Therefore, things are altering for North Kolkata. The tiny shops, outdated vintage houses and even narrow lanes are getting replaced by simply contemporary facilities and modern living spaces. However, does that will mean this place will provide a person with a magnificent lifestyle? Let's get into the blog to be able to familiarise with all the truth. Luxury Living as well as North Kolkata- Do they Go Hand-in-Hand? Modern Residential Tasks: Luxury starts with residential complexes identified by opulence plus style. The casing complexes in N . Kolkata provides an individual the same. A lot of the projects in this kind of region are dazzling defined by comfort and ease, luxury and modern-day conveniences under 1 roof. The household complexes are wrapped in the pure essence of mother nature backed by modern day features, thereby getting you the very best associated with both worlds. Many of the projects are spread across a massive acre of land with 60-70% open spaces identified by lush alternative foliage. Such jobs also consist of landscaped gardens, ponds, pocket gardens, children's park and the likes to be able to provide one with well-rounded lifestyle among a stunning milieu. Upgraded Living Spots: With modern real estate complexes, you'll likewise get the benefits to live within fine living places which will essentially improve your being standards. Constructed applying leading edge technology, the projects consists involving comfort packed bedrooms, quality apartment technical specs (like bathroom as well as kitchen fixtures) plus an amazing town view. What's extra? The current luxury apartments rentals in North Kolkata are open on 3-4 sides plus are Vaastu up to date, thereby bringing ease and comfort and good vibes in your new home. Some tasks will likely provide you with duplex residing spaces within a price range of 30 lakhs to 40 lakhs. Isn't that outstanding? Excellent Amenities and Facilities: In this world, it is obligatory for a household complex to offer the residents along with a remarkable place of amenities and even facilities. Understanding the particular significance of the particular same, the designers are making positive to provide the residential complexes with club amenities and household project facilities of which will enhance the living standards a step further. Luxuriate with residential things in North Kolkata consisting of functions like: Rooftop pool. Adda Room Swimming pool Table Modern Gym A Multi-Purpose Lawn Court. Landscaped Eco-friendly Areas Reflexology Recreation area, etc. Apart through these three principal features, connectivity subdivision in North Kolkata has improved while well. The location features seen a rise in local train routes, vehicles, auto-rickshaws, call taxi cabs and even metro links, thereby streamlining the daily process of travelling to be able to various parts of the particular city. For example , in the event that you buy flats in Barasat, you'll stay considerably close up to the airport, local railway channels and upcoming city link for a great easy travelling event. With connectivity, the region in addition has seen an improvement throughout commercial facilities. The location now consists regarding popular schools, well being care centres, shopping malls, departmental stores, amusement zones, etc ., therefore meeting your necessity for a well-rounded lifestyle. Hence, does indeed luxurious lifestyle plus North Kolkata will go hand in hands? We can say without any following thought they carry out go hand in hand. Hence, North Kolkata is definitely becoming a center of high stop residential projects to provide you together with a posh living standard. Are you planning to buy a new home? Why no longer you check out the non commercial complexes in this area? The dream home is most likely hidden here. The writer has years involving experience in composing across various genres. Recently, she has grown an interest on paper real estate weblogs and her study comparable endows the girl with enough knowledge about flats in North Kolkata. Why don't see what the lady has to state about the non commercial projects in this region. intended for more info rmation go to here - https://www.fortunerealty.in/

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vintagehomecollection · 5 years

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Tab curtains evoke a period feel in the master bedroom, which includes eclectic pieces such as an antique three-legged English cricket table.

Country Home Collection, 1992

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arantiques · 7 months

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#Welsh Painted Cricket Table #Antique CRICKET TABLES #Antique TABLES

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rottenshroom · 2 years

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sweet grass and wild water | part one

01 › wishful thinking – series materlist

summary: the routine of your day-to-day life in the bustle of tokyo quickly becomes mundane. it’s when you receive a letter from your estranged father that your routine is disrupted, for better or worse. following the mystery of your absent father’s past, you find yourself in a small town that’s anything but ordinary.

warnings: southern!kirishima, quirkless au, based loosely on the plot of stardew valley with a little bit of night vale lore, part one is mostly plot driven, eventual smut, mystery, minor character death, reader has daddy issues, mature themes such as strong language and violence, hella angst

words: 3.6k

click here to be tagged in future content

Eijirou Kirishima is exhausted, to put it simply.

It’s in the middle of August, golden sun hanging low in the sky. He thinks he could stand here forever, watching the pale blue atmosphere melt into vibrant pink, purple and orange. He wants to bask in the warmth of the day’s dying light. The world is still at this hour - quiet for the exception of a lone cricket’s chirps emerging from the thick grass. Then two, then three. The growing harmony wakes him up from his daydream, just as the sun begins its descent past the horizon.

Dark comes quick around here, he knows, and finishes up the yard work in haste.

It’s when he gets inside, greeted by a cold glass of sweet tea in his grandmother’s extended arm, that he allows himself a moment of reprieve. He pulls a chair out from where it’s tucked beneath the dining table and sinks into it. He takes a quick swig of the tea and offers thanks to his grandmother - much to her content. She’s still a tough woman in her old age, but more fragile now than ever before.

“S’good, Ma.” He says.

“Did ya’ work on the chicken coupe, Eiji?” She asks, turning to the kitchen sink, where she wrings out a damp cloth with her lithe hands. She shuffles over to her grandson and puts the rag to his forehead, sweeping his bangs up and out of the way with her other hand.

“Sure did. Damn coyotes will have to find somethin’ else for supper.” He says, which earns him a chuckle from his grandmother. He replaces her hand over the cloth, securing it over his head. She returns to the kitchen and fixes him a steaming plate of dinner as he works to shuck off his boots. The floorboards moan under his weight.

When his toes are free, he wiggles them from their home in his socks. He allows himself a moment here, where he breathes in deep, toned chest puffed out, and he looks towards the sky. He squints in effort to avoid the harsh light overhead - an antique pendulum lamp hangs just over the kitchen, casting it in a dull yellow wash. His eyes fixate on the water damage on the ceiling, and he sighs. He thinks, as he observes the dark stain above him, about how it’s something he’ll probably have to look into fixing tomorrow. He’s sure the air conditioning unit in the old house is leaking. It has to be.

The old wood floor feels so brittle beneath his feet, he notices. He closes his eyes then, pressing the pad of his thumb to the crease between his brow. He adds pressure to the little wrinkles there, like it’ll aid in easing his worried mind. Eventually, after a minute or so, he lets out the air that he forgot he was holding in. As he finishes this routine, a ritual of sorts, his grandmother puts the dish on the table before him. She steps back when his eyes flutter open. Her hands are folded over her chest in prayer. When he sees her, he winces and mutters a quick ‘Amen’ like it’ll convince her that he’s a believer. The pair eat in silence.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

There’s a rumor that the town is hard to find. It’s a difficult place to leave and a difficult place to enter as you’ve come to learn, relying on no more than the vague directions your father left in his letter.

Your beat up sedan has surely seen better days, you think, as it sputters down the single lane highway. You bought the damn thing years ago from a used car lot, never intending to put so many miles on it. But the drive to the small town your father grew up in is further into the boondocks than you thought. You’ve been driving for hours, it seems, with no sign of respite. You’re surrounded on all sides by expanse pastures and rolling hills of plush grass.

This is farm country – pale blue skies, acres of tilled land, and the shape of silos in the horizon.

People are sturdy here, simple. Your father wasn’t much different, from what you could tell. When you were younger, before your father completely abandoned his family, you spent a couple summers in his little farmhouse: climbing big oak trees and learning how to manage the land. It was always supposed to be yours, he said. The farm was his livelihood. He put every last penny into the damn thing.

You know you’re in the country when the voices on the radio start to break up with sounds of static. You blindly flip the station, eyes trained on the road. As night begins to fall, you pass an old wooden sign. It’s something you barely miss, partially hidden by the overgrown grass around it: Amekawa.

The outskirts of the town are primarily vast pastures, riddles with lots of dense wood. It’s quiet out here – lonely. You think about how different it is to the city, and wonder if you’ll even last out here for longer than a few weeks. Regardless, you continue down the open road, shaking the thoughts from your head. You’re here for a reason, and you’ve gone as far as to quit your job, end your lease, pack up your life and move. You might as well keep on, because what else have you got to lose?

Lost in thought, you don’t realize the low hum that comes from under the hood of your car, followed by a thump. The movement wakes you from your daydream, bringing you back to the reality at hand. Did you just run over something? A pothole?

Your questions are quickly answered when your car spits, lurching your body forward before stalling out and coming to a screeching halt. Your head narrowly missed the steering wheel as you jerk from the sudden movement. You twist the key several times in the ignition, praying for a miracle, but the car remains silent. You swear, shifting the gear to park like it even fucking matters, because clearly the damn thing isn’t going anywhere. You swing the door open, stepping out of your vehicle and into the brisk country air. You grimaced when the stench of cow shit hit your nose.

“Don’t do this to me now!” You cry, kicking the front driver’s side tire, like it’ll do anything. You huff, resorting now to the third stage of grief: bargaining. You look up at the night sky, littered with twinkling stars – ones you haven’t seen in ages. The lights in Tokyo are far too bright for you to make out constellations like you are now. You sigh, “Please! Just get me to Amekawa!”

Much to your chagrin, nobody is listening. Your call echoes in the void.

You duck back into the driver’s side of your car, removing the keys from the ignition. Your hands fumble against the center console, fingers aimlessly wandering in the dark until they find what you need: your cell phone and wallet. Tucking them into your pockets, you slam the door closed and proceed down the road. Surely, if you keep walking, you’ll find some sign of life.

It isn’t long, maybe twenty minutes or so, when you find a mile marker leading into the town. Beneath the words ‘ Amekawa Mile Marker 4’, it reads: For Towing, Call +81 042-00-0000. Following the sign’s instruction, you dial the number on your cell. After a few rings, a gruff voice picks up, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this, uh, the number to call for towing?” You ask, meek at the deep voice on the other end.

“Y- Yeah,” He says, though he sounds unsure. You hear an unmistakable rustling sound come through the receiver. You must have woken him up, you realize.

“Sorry to have woken you. I didn’t know if it was a 24 hour service.” You apologize.

“No, that’s okay,” he laughs roughly into the phone. You can hear the sound of a belt buckle rattling – he’s getting dressed. “You’re in Amekawa, right?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just got here from Tokyo and my car stalled out on me. I’m at mile marker four, but my car’s about a half mile back.” You say, explaining away the city area code he’s probably seen on his screen. Judging by his question, the town probably didn’t get many visitors – especially not from the city.

“Alright, I know where you are – just stay there. It’ll probably take me about fifteen minutes to get to you. Can you hang tight until then?”

“Mhm,” You nod into the phone before it registers in your mind that he can’t see you from the other side, muttering a “Yes, thank you.” before the call drops.

It’s just past thirteen minutes when the sound of an engine roars through the otherwise empty road. You see a pair of headlights in the distance and cup a hand over your eyes to squint as you watch them approach you. The car comes to a halt on the road, before the driver rolls down his window to address you. In the dark, you can still faintly make out the stranger’s features. He’s young, you discern, with long hair that ventures just past his shoulders. He’s got a pretty face, from what you can tell, and although the tow truck he drives is fucking huge, his hulking frame isn’t lost to your weary eyes.

“Evening, miss.” He says, in such a stereotypical drawl you almost want to roll your eyes. Instead, with bated breath, you squeak out a greeting. He smiles in return.

“You said she was just a mile down the road, right?” He says, nodding in the direction of your vehicle. You crack a smile, “Yeah, she is.”

“Hop in, then. I’ll have her hitched to my tow and then get you where you need’a be.”

Swinging around to the passenger side, you slide into the seat. You nearly moan at the warmth that envelops you, a stark contrast to the chill air outside. When you buckle your seatbelt, his truck begins to roll down the street. He introduces himself to you, as a way to break up the silence.

“Name’s Kirishima,” He says, eyes trained on the road ahead of him. You respond in kind, giving him your name. After a brief trek, Kirishima’s truck comes to a stop in front of yours.

Once he’s got your dingy little car hooked up to his tow truck, the two of you are back on the road and in the warmth of the cabin.

“So what brings you to Amekawa, miss?” He asks, in an effort to fill the quiet air between you. Living in a small town like this one, making small talk was second nature to someone like him. You play with your fingers in your lap, feet curled up on the seat to accommodate your duffel bag on the car floor.

“My father. He, uh, he passed recently. I’m coming here to manage his ranch and distribute his assets.” You said, eyes low and trained on your fumbling hands. They’re restless, it seems, a way to calm your nerves as you talk about the death of your father. Yeah, he didn’t mean much to you, but he was still him. Despite leaving you and your mom, you still remember fishing with him in the river that crosses the agricultural region of japan, helping him put slop out for the pigs, and sitting on his lap as he harrowed the fields in his tractor.

“There any chance your old man was Mr. L/N?” He says, suddenly, pulling you from the dark thoughts that started to consume your mind.

“Yeah, you knew him?” You ask, picking up your head to look at him. The reflection of the moon hit his face, causing the bridge of his nose to glow silver. You could see him a little better like this, side profile showing off his defined jaw, light bouncing off his sharp ruby eyes.

“Knew him?” He scoffs, “Everybody in this town knew the guy. His passing was a sore spot for us all. Up here we all called him Torino.”

“I didn’t realize he had such a reputation.” You stammer, almost shocked. You can’t help but simmer in jealousy at the admission. Your father, the man who left you, was a popular figure in the little town he hid away in. You don’t know if it’s because you always expected him to be a bit of a hermit out in the woods here, but hearing otherwise almost made you seethe at Kirishima when you spoke.

“Oh yeah. In fact, Mr. Yagi has been taking care of his girls while waiting on you.”

“His girls?” You ask, nearly boiling. There’s no way he started another family out here, after –

“Yeah, his dairy cows,” He clarifies, “they were real special to him. He made a pretty penny selling bottles of milk to the corner store on 18th and Darling Rd.”

You feel stupid now, even when you sigh as the relief floods through you. Of course, how could you forget his cows? When you were younger, he taught you how to milk them. Memories fill your mind at the thought of pulling a stool out to sit comfortably beneath Kyoto, your favorite of the cattle. Your dad knelt beside you, low enough to direct instructions in your ear. You can feel your eyes brimming with tears, threatening to spill over your waterline and down your cheeks. You blink them away slowly – once, then twice. And they’re gone. In an effort to alleviate the thick lump building in your throat, you clear it.

“So you all knew I was coming?” You ask, effectively changing the subject.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, eyes trained on the road before you. You’re surrounded by empty pastures on either side, broken up by thickets of wood, “word travels fast in small towns, you know?”

It’s the first time his eyes meet yours, glancing in your direction. They’re even prettier like this, dazzling vermillion orbs. The moment is over quickly, as his eyes shift back to the street.

“Yeah,” you reply, simply nodding, before your gaze drifts to your lap again.

After a few moments of silence, Kirishima reaches for the radio, turning the dial up just enough to hear what sounds like some sort of news broadcast. The low hum of tires on the road isn’t enough to distract you from the uncomfortable quiet, so you listen to the radio. Static cackles between words as the host speaks: “We are eternal, but we will not last.”

You snort, “is this a podcast?”

“Huh?” Kirishima says, lowering the volume. The static becomes overwhelming, swallowing the host’s voice, “No, this is our local news station.”

“So what is that supposed to mean then? We will not last?” You ask, quoting the last sentence you heard verbatim.

“Most humans live normal lives here. I wouldn’t worry about that too much,” He shrugs, almost sheepish in his movements. Unsure as to what he might mean, an expression of confusion adorns your face. Kirishima doesn’t seem to notice though, a look of content stretched over his own features. You brush off the weird behavior, choosing not to press the topic much further, as he clearly wasn’t going to give you any more answers than the vague ones he provided. It’s probably just a small town thing, you think.

One thing, however, is for sure: people from the country are just as odd as you’ve been told, and your father was likely no exception. The thoughts that swirl in your mind – conspiracies of the person your father might have been – leave you reticent for the remainder of the drive.

Kirishima pulls the truck into a long and winding driveway. You can barely make out the structure of a home from where it sits for back from the property line. You realize that the two of you are pulled up next to a large shed that looks more like a warehouse than anything. The garage door is wide open, so you can make out a number of tools lining the back wall inside and a few cars on suspension. You look unsure, voice shaky under your breath. Kirishima seems to notice your hesitance and speaks:

“Now, Miss, I’m just gonna drop your car off here at my garage, if that’s alright with you. Then, I’ll take ya home.” He says, head twisting to get a good look at you.

“H- How am I gonna get to you tomorrow?” You say, in a blatant attempt to hide the grimace on your face.

“I can pick you up in the mornin’ and we’ll figure out the car situation after we’ve both gotten some rest.” He says, nonchalant and assured. You can’t help but simply nod your head in ignorant agreement. He smiles at you, an unmistakable stretch of his mouth across his face as the corners pull up to expose his sharp teeth. His beaming face glows under the silver bath of the moon. He hops out of the car when you return his expression, like it was the validation he needed to continue.

Just as quickly as he hooked your car up to the hitch, he’s directing it into the mouth of the garage. He returns to your side in the truck after a few moments of you watching him through the window. He’s massive, this hulking unit of a man. Standing proud with broad shoulders at 6 '5 at least, you judge, determining his stature in comparison to that of the environment around him. The truck buckles to his side when he gets in, jolting you slightly.

“I can assume you’re staying at the old man’s house?” He asks, shifting the gear. You mumble in confirmation. He doesn't ask you to repeat yourself, despite the low grumble in your voice. He just nods his head and drives on.

“Do ya plan on leaving, miss?” He asks. You nearly groan at the formality. You think he must mean, how long are you gonna be here for? You give him a tight lipped smile, before replying, “I think I’ll be here for a while.”

He hums in thought, and falls silent. It isn’t long before you’re pulling up to the familiar dirt driveway, covered in a thin layer of dead leaves despite the season, winding through the trees that hid your father’s home from curbside view. His truck comes to a stop once the house is visible, though you’re too enamored with the sight of this truly humble abode and the memories it holds for you, to notice. It looks like it always has, albeit a little more dull now than the luster it had to you as a child. The same porch swing is there, right where you saw it last, and the old brick trim around the base of the house. It’s not red like it used to be, more of a pale terracotta with overgrown weeds. You snap from your daydream when Kirishima gets out of the truck and starts to unload your few bags from the small storage space in the cabin.

You pop the door open, but before you can climb out of the truck yourself, Kirishima is there: door swung wide open, and a warm but rough hand on your hip to steady you. It was a big truck, and a lot harder to get down from than it was to get up. You’re grateful for his support, and thank him when your feet hit the ground.

“You’re picking me up in the morning, right?” You lead him to your front door, unlocking it to let him barrel through the entry with your bags. He sets them down, as gingerly as he can manage to be. As to not intrude, he’s quick to duck out and onto the porch. You turn to him, now standing in the doorway behind the screen door that had shut behind him.

“Bright and early, sunshine. I hope you’re a morning person,” He chuckles. You return the gesture with a weak smile.

“How do I know you’re not gonna leave me out here?” You ask. You fold your arms over your chest – guarded.

“I brought ya home, didn’t I?” He smirks, like he knows you mistrusted him. You flush beneath the look he gives you, stammering.

“T– Thank you,” you tear your eyes from his piercing gaze, “I’ll see you in the morning.” you say, finally, shutting the door behind you.

When the door closes, you’re left to your own demons in the dark and empty structure. You exhale deeply, eyes cast down as to avoid the pictures on the wall of your once happy family. You lock the front door in haste, trudging up the stairs immediately at your left to where you know your old room is. The path is so routine to you that you’re thankful you know how to fumble there blindy, in the shadows of the staircase.

When you reach the last step, you can make out the layout of the hall leading to your room. Fingertips bumping against the wall, you walk to the wooden doorway you’ve lived on the other side of: a former version of yourself – young, naive, weak. On the door is a little golden symbol, a broken sort of cross. You gasp, memories flooding back. The nostalgia is almost overwhelming, causing tears to flood your vision. Now that you were back, and looking at this blurry image through your tears, you remembered. It’s like when you left this town, so did the thought of him. Of Yorba.

tags: @idimmadontgiveashit @hitoshislut

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chaosworthy · 1 year

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#give a little time to me | queue #can't control what i'm into | aesthetics

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thesightstoshowyou · 3 years

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The other day I read about slashers waking up to a blowjob. Asa was missing, though. Do you think Asa is the type to let you do (possibly making you choke now that he is awake) or pins you down to f*** you? I feel like he maybe will put up a punishment for touching him without permission but it's not like he has to pretend he doesn't like it cuz he seriously doesn't. But I don't know. Maybe he is another type, out of ordinary.

Ah, but what if he was too exhausted to protest?

GN Reader (NSFW)

The gold, antique lamp perched on the end table bathes the worn pages of your book in soft, warm light. On the other end of the sofa sits Asa, reading glasses resting on his nose, student papers rustling in his scarred hands. You lick your finger, flip the page, and glance up just in time to see him nodding off, his work nearly tumbling from his lap.

He’s been so busy lately, working all day at the University and nearly all night with his...hobby. He’s wound tight, irritable, ready to snap. You’re not sure how he hasn’t collapsed from exhaustion before now.

Maybe he needs some help in order to relax. It must be hard to rest with such an active mind.

Silently, you place a bookmark between the pages before setting your book aside. You slip off the sofa and gingerly retrieve the papers from his lap before placing them in a neat pile on the floor. Kneeling, you settle back on your heels before your dozing predator.

The next step makes you hesitate. You need to touch him to push his thighs apart. Normally, you would never dare; the punishment is never worth breaking the rules, but tonight.... Maybe tonight could be different.

Your fingers quiver as you place them on the Collector’s knees. Gently, you ease his legs apart as your palms slide up his clothed thighs. You scoot closer, move between his knees, eyes anxiously darting from his lax face to his groin and back again.

The furrowing of his brow is your only warning before his eyes flutter open. He fixes you to the spot with a dark glare. You freeze, swallow thickly, wait for the bite....

It never comes.

He watches you intently, studying you, maybe even daring you to continue. Against your better judgement, your palms continue their ascent until your fingers reach Asa’s belt. Heart fluttering frantically in your chest, you unclasp the buckle, pop the button, slide the zipper.

Slowly, you lean forward and mouth along his clothed length, feeling him harden as your hot breath and warm tongue tease him through the fabric. Curling your fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs, you free his half-hard cock.

Glancing up at Asa from under your lashes, you drag your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip. Your suck the head in your mouth, toying with the slit with your tongue until you feel his thighs tense under your palms. Boldly, you moan and pull away before teasing his heated flesh with small kitten licks and kisses.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the hand on the armrest clenching into a fist. Perhaps it’s a warning, perhaps it’s just an unconscious reaction, but you don’t push your luck. You take him into your mouth again, sliding down as far as you can without gagging before resurfacing. Your eager hands make up for what your mouth can’t reach.

Soon, you’re rhythmically bobbing your head and rolling your fists up and down Asa’s hard, wet cock. His chest heaves and when you glance up at him again, you see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he fights the pleasured sounds. You flush with pride and redouble your efforts.

His hips involuntarily twitch. He’s close. Hollowing out your cheeks, you quicken your pace until Asa’s thighs tense and tremble. A shuddering breath reaches your ears as the first drops of salty slick spill onto your tongue.

Then, something happens that nearly makes you choke. A low, raspy moan—a sound you’ve never heard before—spills from Asa’s parted lips. The sound goes straight between your legs until you’re keening along with him.

With one, final thrust into your suckling mouth, Asa falls limp against the cushions. Dutifully, you audibly swallow and thank him. You’re about to move back to the couch, but you pause, contemplating.

You’ve come this far. What’s a little more?

Instead of removing your hands, you smooth them up his clothed abdomen, following closely behind with a trail of soft kisses. You move up his chest, pulling down his shirt so you can graze your lips along his collarbone. Your hands tremble, your heart pounding faster the closer you get to his face, but he has yet to react. Are you tempting fate?

When you reach his neck, he finally speaks, “Cricket.” His tone is stern, terse. It’s a warning.

Recklessly, still riding the high of pulling that wanton moan from such a stoic man, you reply sweetly, “Yes, Sir?” You press a kiss just under his jaw, lightly sucking the sensitive flesh there until he inhales a little harder than normal. Moving to his ear, you nibble gently on his earlobe, then kiss and lick the spot just under his ear.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end. You flinch when his deadly hands shoot out and grab you around the waist. You expect pain, or to be shoved down into the floorboards, but Asa surprises you once more when you’re placed next to him on the couch, unscathed.

“I’m going to bed,” he grumbles, standing and stalking away. You watch him go, a small, self-satisfied smile pulling at your lips.

#slashers #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector 2009 #the collector x reader #n sfw #the collection #my writing #thank you for the ask #slasher x reader

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slutfreeforuse · 2 years

Text

Monster bar Glory hole

In the bustling oasis city of Ja Radeez. The magic naturalism of the winding stone roads, buildings interlocked between the roots of the great giant glowing tree in the center of the city. Centuries of built-up culture. In this luminancent utopia rests a small but frequently travelled bar. Many drinks are served to the eclectic collection of guests which range from brutish orcs, to fluttering faeries. On the outside you are led up to the establishment via a beaten stone path, amidst a sprawling residential district. The roots of the great tree twisting around the wooden buildings, and paper lamps illuminating the evening air. Moss overtakes the roofs of each building, including the bar which has no door. There is a large open-arch which allows guests to enter without any restriction. A large aged wooden sign on the sloped roof that reads “The drunken Roc”. The bar has a certain reputation among the students that attend the nearby university. It’s often frequented by those looking to get up to some frisky, some sexual encounters of the casual kind. The booze flows cheap enough, and acts as a social lube for those unfamiliar with the night-life of the antiquated city.

You enter through the archway and into the loud but cheerful sound of those patrons already getting up to throwing back their favorite drinks. Mugs clinking, shots being gulped back swiftly before being set down firmly upon the counter where the androgenous hucow bartender with long black hair walks back and forth swiftly trying to keep up with the orders. Mugs being filled, shots being poured. Blue-collar workers going on about their day. The song of the bar, the song of the city filling the air. Laughter, crickets from outside, and the sounds of drinks being filled in the bar. There’s a group of human men playing cards and making bets, at a wooden table in the middle of the room. Many other tables are filling out the rest of the relatively spacious inside. All the same stained and dull circular wood tables, they’re worn from years of use, and accompanied by similar looking chairs. Among the blue-collar workers are the students of the college that have come here on dates, or singles looking to get lucky. You look around and make note of several couples. Some of them are mixed races, very non-conforming gender pairings. Some even appear to be non-couple relationships, many in the group, and unconventional dynamics. The bar has that inclusive, and very wholesome atmosphere that proceeds it. You take special note of a group of men. At the table there’s a harpy, a gray-skinned orc, satyr, vim-vim and an elf.

A vim-vim is sort of a desert dwelling cat person with interesting cultural mannerisms. An orc is a brutish person with a wicked lower jaw that has teeth poking through their underbite, and a tribalistic hairstyle. A harpy is similar to a human if you can get past the muscled bird legs, and the fact their arms have built in wings which makes it difficult to do any job that would be anything other than delivery. A satyr is a short and pudgy goat-race that is very hairy, and oftentimes culturally crude. The elf has long blonde hair and blue eyes. He is well kept, well dressed, and has the typical elongated ears elves are known for on full display. This table of friends, eclectic in nature. They’re having a merry old time. They’re taking shots of a unique looking liquor in a clear glass bottle. The liquor irradiates an unnatural green color in the dimly lit room. Between shots they make flirty comments at each other and even kiss one another in various regions of their admittedly quite attractive frames.

There is one **other** thing this bar is known for, and well actually that’s why you’ve decided to come. You’ve heard that “The Drunken Roc” is famous for its gloryhole. You’ve come to the bar as a night off from your studies, and well you do have a certain craving. A craving for something in particular and well it’s not the booze. You have an oral fixation, and the thought of anonymously blowing a bunch of cocks, and slurping up their thick viscous nectar has you drawn here to this **unique** establishment.

Upon entering the establishment you notice there’s a closet sized room in the left-hand side of the spacious interior. The outside of the closet has a wooden door on one side. On the other there is a pair of tiny red curtains hanging from a curtain rod, covering something? Perhaps it’s a tiny window. Above that you come to the realization that the rumors are true. Above the tiny curtains there’s a clear sign carved into the sign of the stained wooden closet. It reads “FOR GLORY; STEP INSIDE”. A very clear and obvious message for those who might be interested in receiving a cock between their lips, or those seeking to have their penis orally massaged by those willing.

The bartender calls you over to the counter with a friendly wave and a shout. They have a pudgy face, wear glasses, and long black flowing hair. The cute androgenous hucow bartender also has cow horn horns poking out through that flowing fur that extends down their back. They’re wearing the typical looking apron you’d see in this kind of bar. It’s almost maid like but is very worn from many years of use. All patched up with different multi-colored fabric and stitching with stains that line what white bits remain. The bartender asks you what you’re having and gives you a wink. You tell them you’d like an apple ale and they swiftly turn around. They turn around and then start to pour it out of the cooling tap. The cooling tap which is powered by the glowing magic crystal embedded in it. The crystal gives off a similar blue glow to that of the great tree in the center of the city.

You drink with the bartender and make casual talk about the bar being a popular destination for tourists for dates. The bartender brags about how many people their establishment has brought together. How their special blends of alcoholic drinks just brings people together like no other bar in the city. They go on to explain the art of finding the perfect drinks for those interested and how they can help build an experience to be shared between two or more people. You then bring up the **special** drink you’re interested in, subtly hinting about the potential **experience** in the corner. Their eyes light up, and their tone of voice changes to an excited one. “Oh I see” they go on to explain that it’s been a quite a while since someone has ordered **that** drink. They slide an empty pitcher across the counter and instruct you to go inside the closet from earlier. They explain that it’s illuminated there, and there’s a stool for you to sit on while you wait for your **drink** to poke through the curtains of glory.

So you do walk all the way over to that off-beaten part of the bar that has suddenly become the attention of everyone. The patrons of the bar, their eyes seem to follow you as you make your way slowly to the closet. That excitement that you’re trying to hold back, as the space between your legs becomes engorged from the arousal. From that arousal an anticipation is welling up inside you as your receptacle between your lips yearns for the meaty packages about to be inserted between them. You can’t help but to drool while being wholly aware of their focus upon you as you open the closet and step in. As soon as you’re inside you’re greeted by that faint familiar blue glow. The walls are bare wood, not even painted, there’s counters carved into them counting what you know to be the cocks the previous occupants have pleasured with their lips. You sit down and lean forward toward the curtains. Just as you do you hear the bar-tender announce that “Hall of Glory” has opened for the night. “Feel free to use it until your cocks are content”.

After a bunch of comotion you hear footsteps just outside as the curtains part and a massive cock slides in. There’s a musky smell that fills your nasal cavity. The gray phallic stick just in front of your lips is engorged. It must be as thick as your forearm. You grip it around the base and begin to slide your fist around it which can barely meet at the other side of the thick member. What a wonderful way to start the suckathon. You press your lips against the soft mushroom-cap giving it a kiss. As you hear a groan of pleasure muffled by the curtains in reaction to your attention. Your lips part as you slide that cock between your lips, at least as far you reasonably can. It’s a massive penis, and saliva is dripping down your tongue as your oral-sex hole just craves in desperation to lube itself up for this literal monster cock. It’s not long before it begins to stiffen more, and begins to pulse with that effort, that pleasure you’re spreading from your drooling drip hole straight into this phallic friend that has you aroused and aching. Aching for that cum which is spurting into your mouth. It’s thick and warm. Those big balls emptying themselves in your eager and horny mouth. You can scarcely contain the growing mouthful you’ve captured. He pulls away and you gasp, spitting the cum into the pitcher the bartender provided to you.

After your mouth is cleaned out into the pitcher you see another cock slip through those red curtains of lust. Your mouth is dry and drooling for more cum. You eagerly lean forward on the slightly scaly but otherwise normal human looking cock. Your saliva lubricates the otherwise rougher exterior as your lips slide down upon the new guest that has come to visit you. Your new guest which has entered your mouth, that phallic friend being massaged along by your tongue which is wobbling back and forth along his shaft as you grip and suck the cum. Your pressure between your lips causes the pressure in his balls to become too much until your pleasure becomes too much. Too much sucking, too much lips brushing against his sensitive scaley cockhead which is now pumping between your lips which are so firmly gripped around the cock in your mouth. You hear him moaning, almost singing from the pleasure as you take him deeper, as you go deeper with every suck, deeper with every spurt hitting the back of your throat and pooling on your tongue. There’s even more cum than last time. That hot and thick creaming monster juice enters you. That creamy thick heat of the cum filling you up, and making you tingle for more.

There’s even more cum filling your ballooning cheeks. Your lips are covered by the semen dripping through your closed mouth. The absolutely inhuman levels of cum which you shoot into the pitcher. Quickly removing it from your closed mouth, and into that pitcher which is already half full of creamy fluid. Your lips are watering darling, as you crave more cock which has already entered. More cock has entered the hall of glory. A soft spongey cockhead is poking you in the cheek. You spin around to find a penis resting pleasantly against your lips. A short and fat cock is resting against your horny, tingling, and eager to please lips. Your cockhole is drooling. The fur at the base of the cock makes you think of the goatman from earlier. That Satyr that was hooting and hollering with his friends. Certainly you wouldn’t mind sucking him off. As your lips plunge down on his throbbing penis which clearly hasn’t had much attention in a while. Every slip and slide of your tongue, of your lips going along the thick shaft seems to make him moan desperately for more. Your mind is going blank from the lust filling your tingling hole. That space between your legs aching more and more for you to continue to suck, drool, to slide along that shaft, and to take that mushroom cap deep. Almost as deep as you’re going into this, as much as you’re enjoying being a glory hole. Your mouth feels glorious as you suck these wonderful cocks that have entered your domain. That have spread your lips and pumped such juicy liquid. Such sweet nectar inside of you. He grunts and his cock stiffens as hard as a board. Cum is gushing out as you swallow. This load is almost as big, and almost as thick as the last. You struggle to keep it inside as his cock begins to twitch and he wails in pleasure as other men outside say “Holy, wow, they’re that good huh?” Your pride in sucking guiding you deeper into this as the cock pumps itself soft inside of your drooling drip hole. He pulls away, and must be as white as a ghost after that act of lust you enacted up his horny prick.

You deposit the cum swiftly into the pitcher as you await another phallic guest. It’s almost three-fourths of the way full now. You’re almost ready to get your **drink**. Just as you finish the deposit, as all that spit and semen pours into the glass the next cock slides in just as erect and yearning as the other ones. It’s long and skinny, and there’s no indication that it’s exactly a monster cock but it is pretty big and delicious. Delicious enough that you crave to slide your tongue along the length to tease it. You lick this cock back and forth fervently before allowing that fleshy helmet to part your lips. Allowing that fleshy cock to plunge into your oral cavity that is dripping wet. You can’t help but to touch yourself as one hand grips around the base of his cock. Stroking him, stroking yourself as your lips slide along his wonderfully pumping shaft. That heat that is spreading through your dripping and tingling lips. You hear a high pitched moan, and a voice from early comes back to you. You realize that yes, yes you’re sucking off that cute elf from the table. His cock embodies his outward appearance “long and skinny”. He begins to thrust in rhythm to your stroking. You're stroking as you glide your lips around him. He’s grunting, and he’s panting. One more later and his dick stiffens even more before twitching furiously, as it surrenders to the onslaught of your tongue. Cum pooling into your mouth, and dripping over your lips as you milk it out. You’re milking him dry with your dripping wet hole.

He steps away and you gasp as you spit up more juicy jizz into the pitcher. The pitcher is now full and you decide to finally give it a drink. So you lift it up, now completely full and honestly quite heavy. You place your lips to the part which would normally be used to pour the contents into mugs. And you begin to chug, cum flowing back into your mouth. A slurry of layers of cum dripping backward, as you swallow and take your lust deeper. That creamy cum being guzzled down into your belly until finally the pitcher is light, and almost empty but your belly is full of your reward. That juicy cream you sought so hard, that you sucked off a bunch of bar patrons anonymously.

Finally another cock from that table slips through those curtains. Your drink is empty but there’s still more cock to suck. Your lips wrap around the bumpy cock of that noisy vim-vim from the table. The sound of purring filling the air. You begin to suck and as you do, you hear more feet, more people, and more monster folks lining up to be pleasured by you. The night is still young after all. You’re still dripping and horny. So you bliss out and continue to suck until the wee hours of the morning.

*snap*

#brainwashing #hypno slave #hypnodoll #hypnokink #hypnosis #hypnotist #hypnotized #hypnotized girl #mind control #trance

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