#Day 18: Galaxy Con

[murasakibonnet]

~Here come the boys~ hello boys

Inktober Masterpost!

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

🍂🐢🍁 Risetober 2023 🍁🐢🍂

--- Day 10/18: Red Fox + Galaxy Con ---

Tenth day of @sariphantom's Risetober prompts! Mikey somehow managed to dress up Mayhem as Jupiter Jim's trusty sidekick, and now the two of them are ready for Galaxy Con! Hopefully with less kidnapping, this time around.

Risetober 2023 Masterpost

[v-albion]

Risetober day 18: Galaxy Con

I really wanna go to a con now

In other news I’m back! Lets finish this

Masterpost

Prev | Day 17: Zombie

Next | Day 19: Scary Movie

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 4: APHRODISIACS

grand admiral thrawn x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: grand admiral thrawn has a unconventional way of convincing neighbouring planets to pledge allegiance to the empire.

cw: f!princess!reader, aphrodisiacs/sex pollen vibes so dub-con, fingering, cum eating, political mind games.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 5: CLOTHES ON ⇾

Perhaps others in your position would consider you a coward. The rebel alliance had pushed a revolutionary manifesto that had bled into the heart of each Empire-subjugated civilian in the galaxy, many taking up arms against the gigantic fleet of storm-trooper manned ships. 

However, lacking a large military and without weaponry or manpower, your small planet lay at the mercy of the Empire leviathan. The decorative crown placed atop your head was just that— embellishment. The significance of your birthright was as vexing to Grand Admiral Thrawn as a speck of dust on his pristine white uniform. A simple brush of his palm enough to toss any resistance aside. 

The hologram Thrawn sent you upon arrival to your galaxy was intended as an olive branch, one you gratefully received. A promise of clemency on the condition that you attend a dinner upon the Chimaera warship. 

“Princess,” Thrawn muses as he walks you towards the vast dining table, his own body language almost regal as he directs you to your seat, “I hope you don’t mind that I took liberty with the selection of delicacies I provided.” 

You had no quarrel; it was like a feast mosaic. Gorgeous, vibrant pomegranates split down the middle to expose the glistening seeds, strawberries doused in dark chocolate and shucked oysters fanned out on a plate of salt. 

“I am grateful for anything you provide, Grand Admiral,” you answer him politely as he pulls out a chair for you. You sit with a small smile, attempting to appease the man that balanced your planet’s fate on the end of his trigger finger. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Thrawn’s lips pull up in a smirk, the silky timbre of his voice dripping like molasses off the edge of your spine, warming something deep in your abdomen that makes you blush. 

Without ceremony, he settled in his seat across the table. Those crimson eyes pass over your frame with a gaze so heavy it’s as though you feel it dance across your skin, leaving flames in its wake. 

“I recommend the oysters, your highness,” he addresses you respectfully with your title. “Freshly farmed a few hours ago.” 

Upon his insistence, you began to feast. A polite silence falls between you, Thrawn’s eyes set on you as he watches you relish the flavour of the delicate oysters. He looks pleased. 

You cannot deny the warmth that creeps across your skin the longer he looks at you. Thrawn's presence makes you almost dizzy, but the fear that had prickled at the base of your neck when you had been informed of his arrival had been replaced with something far more titillating. 

“I must offer you my appreciation for your willingness to collaborate with the Empire, your highness, Thrawn praises you while you take a moment to sip the red wine you had been offered upon arrival. “I think you will find that I serve at your pleasure.”

“So it would seem,” you smile weakly, glancing across the table top. Pomegranate, oysters, wine. Your mind felt numb, slow to connect the thread that ran through each item— a singular quality they all shared. 

“I wish to assure you of my commitment to ensuring you and your people are appropriately cared for,” Thrawn continues, elegantly standing from his seat at the head of the table and approaching where you sat like a Groundlion; a creature you knew belonged to the Chiss star system. “That our relationship continues to develop organically.” 

The air around you vibrates as he approaches, your heart lurching. You had not failed to note the double meaning and slight innuendo to his comments. Flush paints your cheeks when you feel the slick wetness between your thighs, unable to look the Chiss in the eyes as he stands before you. 

The Grand Admiral’s azure palm takes hold of your chin gently, tilting your head back and forcing you to look him in the eye. He’s poised, ice cold and stoic while he watches you burn up. “Don’t you agree?”

Pomegranate, wine, oysters. Pomegranate. Wine. Oysters. 

Thrawn’s fingertips glide down your throat, tracing the dip of your sternum down down beneath your naval, leaving a devastating trail of arousal in the wake of his feather-light touch. 

Pomegranate. Red Wine. Oysters. 

Aphrodisiacs. 

“Ah—“ you gasp the moment the word comes to mind, Thrawn’s fingertip brushing the curve of your sex and finding against your swollen, throbbing clit through the layers of fabric. Your eyes roll back, knuckles bleaching as he steadily and oh so easily works his hand beneath your skirts. Each motion is fluid, as easy as breathing. 

“Apologies, your highness,” Thrawn spoke, his timbre even and mind-bendingly steady in comparison to your broken breaths of ecstasy. His fingers work through your folds, spreading your pussy lips and collecting your slick across his cerulean fingerprints. “I didn’t quite catch your reply.” 

There’s a vague cruelty to his tone, enjoying your suffering. His eyes are glued to your expression, watching it crumple with desperation as he removes his touch from your sex raising his slick-drenched fingers to his lips and relishing in the taste when he presses the digits to his tongue. 

Your chest heaves, utterly undignified with your thighs still spread in the hopes he’ll touch you again, trembling with need. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s eyes slip closed with a quiet hum of appreciation, removing his fingers from his tongue. 

“Exquisite,” he husks, eyes dropping to you once more. 

“Please—“ you beg him, far beyond the political ramifications and the threat of being labelled a co-conspirator. 

“A princess should not beg,” he scolds you with an even tone, his hand easily working itself between your thighs once again, immediately finding your swollen clit and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It’s tortuous, your body practically folding in on itself at the devastating arousal that causes slick to leak down your thighs. “She should command her subject. Demand their service.” 

You cannot even muster a plea of mercy, rocking your hips forward to grind your clit against his knuckles. He appears to savour the way pleasure contorts your expression, your brows knitting together and jaw falling slack as you chase the high that had so suddenly threatened to burst through you like a blaster charge. 

“It would appear that we are destined to have a successful working relationship, your highness,” Thrawn muses, the flat expression on his face doing little to hide the gleeful glint in his eye at just how easy it was to reduce you to a trembling wreck. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You have no time to answer, no chance to even suck air into your lungs before your vision goes white. Pure hot plasma bursts through your abdomen, running hot and thick like the magma on Mustafar. Sobbed wails of Thrawn’s name, sans his title pour from your lips as you grasp desperately at his wrist, drawing crimson blood from his cobalt wrist when you dig your nails in. 

Over the roar of the blood in your ears, rapid heart pounding in your ears as Thrawn continuous to torture your clit through the orgasm that threatens to obliterate you, you hear a twinge in the Grand admiral’s voice. Smug. 

“So it would seem.” 

star wars/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog1 @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @saradika @mylifeisactuallyamess

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[hyperfixated-homo]

Day 18 - Galaxy Con! I drew Mike and Dee in some prebby sun and moon outfits :)

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/26/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Renew As A Crew/Hoist The Ads; Cast & Crew Sightings; Queerties; Twitter Watch parties; Articles; Reasons to keep fighting; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonights Taika;

== Renew As A Crew / Hoist The Ads ==

Tumblr Post / Twitter Post /Instagram Post

Link to vote

==Cast & Crew Sightings==

While the sighting hasn't occurred yet... looks like Vico Ortiz, Nathan Foad, and Con O'Neill will all be attending Galaxy Con in San Jose on August 16-18, 2024 at the San Jose Mcenery Convention Center. Tickets available now. Src: _irene_adler on IG

One thing to note.. Chaos dad has been pretty consistent about reaching out every 3 days-ish lately.. I'm interested to see if tomorrow he shows up again. Just a theory.

== Queerties ==

If you're down, please vote for the Queerties each day! If you want to just vote for OFMD categories, feel free to visit: TV Comedy Best TV Performance Wanna help another Taika/Rhys verse Queertie? Vote for Kaimana for Best Film Performance in Next Goal Wins!

==Twitter Watch Parties==

Sadly, today #PirateOmens came to an end, but our friend @dandeebakes is already fast at work getting other cool Watch parties together! Please send them some love!

=HuntForThePirateHome=

HuntForThePirateHome Watch Party Starts Sunday Jan 28 at 3 PM EST, 12 PT, 8 PM GMT. Hashtags for that event are:

#HuntForThePirateHome

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

Thank you to @blueberreads for catching these trends on twitter during the Pirate Omens watch, definitely kept engagement up.

==LubeAsACrew==

#LubeAsACrew is back on 1/31/24 at 4PM PT, 1PM ET. Next up are S1 Episodes 5, 6, 7.

== How To Help ==

How To Help Save OFMD Task List - US How to Help Save OFMD Task List - Outside US

==Articles==

15 Things We’ll Miss About ‘Our Flag Means Death’

2024’s Canceled Shows, for Your Final Consideration

Relisting The Guardian's article from yesterday because they've opened comments, and it can help with engagement so feel free to comment on it now!

Also, @itsmfgames Has been kind enough to be keeping up a running list of Articles about the campaigns -- so if you have the time and want to go catch up on some articles, please checkout the guide below and visit this google doc for the list! It's been added to the Daily Renewal List for both US and Outside-US, so feel free to check it out there as needed.

== Reasons to Keep Fighting ==

Throwing in some great points from our tumblr folks regarding the cancellation that really helped me feel pumped today.

@celluloidbroomcloset's Our Flag Means Death was cancelled because it’s gay.

@queerly-autistic's break down on why Not All Fan Campaigns Are The Same.

@saltpepperbeard's reasoning for Clinging Onto Hope

@tulipseason's lovely reasons The Show Is Irreplaceable

== Love Notes ==

Alright lovelies. I have so many words to say about how great you all are, how much I love you (and I'm sure you're tired of hearing them), but I went back to work today after 7 days of being sick and now my brain is mush. So instead I'm going to put the text of one of my son's books in here because I think every one of us should feel loved like we were when we were 5.

On The Night You Were Born - By Nancy Tillman On the night you were born, the moon smiled with such wonder that the stars peeked in to see you and the night wind whispered, “Life will never be the same.” Because there had never been anyone like you… ever in the world. So enchanted with you were the wind and the rain, that they whispered the sound of your wonderful name. It sailed through the farmland High on the breeze… Over the ocean… And through the trees… Until everyone heard it and everyone knew of the one and only ever you. Not once had there been such eyes, such a nose, such silly, wiggly, wonderful toes. When the polar bears heard, they danced until dawn. From faraway places, the geese flew home. The moon stayed up until morning next day. And none of the ladybugs flew away. So whenever you doubt just how special you are and you wonder who loves you, how much and how far,  Listen for geese honking high in the sky. (They’re singing a song to remember you by.) Or notice the bears asleep at the zoo. (It’s because they’ve been dancing all night for you!) Or drift off to sleep to the sound of the wind. (Listen closely… it’s whispering your name again!) If the moon stays up until morning one day, or a ladybug lands and decides to stay, or a little bird sits at your window awhile, it’s because they’re all hoping to see you smile… For never before in story or rhyme (not even once upon a time) has the world ever known a you, my friend, and it never will, not ever again… Heaven blew every trumpet And played every horn On the wonderful, marvelous Night you were born

== Daily Darby / Tonights Taika ==

The gifs today are courtesy of our lovely @ofmd-ann who blesses us every day with gifs that make me swoon. Darby / Taika

Warning to all you gif makers, I'm gonna be bugging the crap out of you soon for permission to share on these recaps :P -- feel free to say no!

[gotasenseivebeenbetrayed]

peter

"Preserved from when we were just kids" "The goddess of timing Once found us beguiling"

The first part, they were 18 and 22 when they first got together and during the beginning of their relationship and "beguiling" means enchanting/charming - and the World was enchanted by them when they were together (aside from the haters) and then even while they were off and on over the years, he was always the one that she said would come in and out of her life and they'd "never be over", all which still fits with that beguiling line.

"I thought it was just goodbye for now"

"You said you were gonna grow up Then you were gonna come find me"

This is NOT giving me Matty vibes at all and I'll die on that hill. Again, 18 and 22 fits here more than 24 and 25. Sure, you're still growing at 24/25 don't get me wrong but, Matty was very much not saying "I'm going to grow up and come find you one day" at 25 years old in the height of his addiction and during his "I can't be with someone bigger than me because I want success on my own". This is giving "I was 18 when we got together and I need to figure my shit out but, one day we'll be together when I do". This also fits her saying he was always in and out of her life. She's been waiting for him to grow up and come find her again.

"But life was always easier on you Than it was on me"

She got way more hate during their relationship than he did, as she mentions in Slut! On top of the fact, he dated/had flings with many women back to back and never got shit for it but, she dates men back to back and gets hated for it. Granted, that could fit just about any male if we're honest but, she specifically wrote Slut! about Harry so.

"When crossing your jet stream We both did the best we could do Underneath the same moon In different galaxies"

This is giving me very much "we were constantly traveling for work and maybe my jet would cross over yours and we'd end up in the same place and try to make it work and then again when we were so far away from each other". It's also interesting that this album has quite a bit of talk about galaxies/aliens/moons and then circus/con men etc. when the last two MVS we got from Harry were "Satellite" and "Daylight" - Satellite which has the imagery of the sky/galaxy and saying he's waiting for her and then we have "Daylight" which is a circus theme MV.

"And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned"

Here she's saying she dated other men during their time apart but, she was always still waiting for him to return to her and tell her he's grown up, figured out what he wanted, and that it's her.I also get the vibe she mentions men specifically because she was talking about him still being a "boy", so she dated men waiting for him - Calvin/Tom because they were her age range and they were "masquerading" as her boyfriend.

"And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired"

This specific line is what has everyone thinking Matty but, they MET when he was 25. He was not laying all these promises out to her then and that's not what this line is saying to me. It's saying that the muse made all these promises to her BEFORE he turned 25 and then they saw each other again when he was 25 - he told her "I made those as a kid, they've expired now that we're older, they were just fantasies". Harry was 25 when he released Fine Line and when they saw each other at Ed's wedding. My guess is that was the first time they'd seen each other in a while and there was a talk that night and he might've said something along those lines or she took it that way.

All of this to also say the obvious ties of "Peter" and this song bringing the Peter Pan imagery and then "Peter Losing Wendy" reference in "Cardigan" which is obviously about Harry Styles. The fact people want to connect that with Matty now because they think this song is Matty is wild. Matty was not that young when they met, 25 is still a grown ass adult. Technically Harry was 17 when he met Taylor and who knows if they actually dated before he turned 18 or not. But James in Cardigan acts like a 17/18 year old Harry probably would've acted vs a 25 year old man. And even IF Matty and Taylor had a thing back then, it was an incredibly quick fling. Sleeping together and maybe a few dates but, they were definitely never in a relationship. She did not write Cardigan about a short fling.

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked Masterlist 

a multi-chapter Din Djarin x *reverse age gap* *plus-sized* *fem* *afab* O/C 

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Pairing: din djarin x *no age gap* *plus-sized* fem!O/C  

Rating: will be 18+  

Story summary: Din accepts an ambiguous bounty for an impressive sum. It takes him days out of the charted galaxy through hyperspace to an unknown planet with inhabitants ruled by men, secretive, and unlike anything Din had experienced before. He meets a woman living alone outside of the protected boundaries of the community…

Story warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, explicit sexual content, non-con sexual content, extreme violence, rape, torture, misogynic culture, revenge, and gluten 

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Click Here to read on AO3

Prologue

Day One

Day One point Five

Day Two

Day Two point Five

Day Three (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Four

Day Four point Five (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Day Five

Day Five point Five (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Six (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, SA)

Day Six point Five

Day Seven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, SA)

Day Seven point Five (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Days Eight through Eleven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Day Twelve

Day Thirteen

Day Fourteen (Din) (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Fourteen (Marathel)

Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel)

Day Fifteen (Din)

Day Fifteen (Marathel & Cobb)

Day Fifteen point Five

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part II

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part III (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Din)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Marathel)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part I

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part II. (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III (18+, MDNI, blood, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part IV (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-six point Five.

Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Marathel). (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, murder)

Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Din, Part I).

Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Din, Part II).

Day Twenty-Nine point Five.

Future Days (coming soon)

[shintin]

Gunpowder Dreams

Chapter 5 (Glory-Hole)

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

They didn't know a wounded man would show no mercy when they took the best thing he ever had away from him. What did they say? Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the heat; if you do, expect the flames.

Genre: explicit smut, toxic relation, romance, angst (Mafia au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, sexual situations, dub-con, graphic violence, gore, angst, toxicity, gun-play, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, too many smut scenes, emotional trauma, and etc.

Song Recommendation: Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang

Note: This one has dub-con.

Chapter Index - Next Chapter

"I can save you."

Something shook you, inflicting waves of pain that pierced your consciousness.

"Wake up; I can save you."

The voice cut through the dense fog swirling within your mind. Blackness surrounded you, and it felt like you were adrift in a galaxy devoid of stars while an icy chill crept through your body, serving as a foreboding sign of imminent peril.

A hand firmly grasped your arm, administering another rough jolt.

"There's not much time left. I need you to wake up. I'll help you."

A slender beam of light pierced through the unending darkness of the room, creating a fissure. Your attention was fixated on the light while someone persisted in shaking your body, causing the crack to widen until a dazzling radiance seared through your eyes.

Fucking flashlight!

You let out a groan as a faint glimmer of understanding slowly surfaced. The firm grip on your arm tightened, and the voice urging you to awaken amplified. Once more, you were vigorously shaken, and the harsh movement finally jerked you into full wakefulness. Your eyes flew open, and although the reason was still unclear, your heart was beating out of your chest, pounding against your rib cage with the same intensity as the person shaking you.

The features of an elderly, weathered face with dull blue eyes behind black-framed glasses came into focus, only a few inches away from yours.

Startled, you instinctively recoiled, blinking at him with frenzy and bewilderment. "What's going on?" you choked out. The reality hit you like a thunderbolt in seconds, and you were swiftly reminded of the man's identity. After the ordeal of being kidnapped and enduring a brutal beating from Knives, he tended to your injuries and provided care.

Doctor William Conrad. The man who was currently in your face, staring at you with urgency.

"I'm going to help you. Please, get up."

The spine-tingling fear seeped through the haze and grew more intense as his hand seized yours and forcefully yanked you forward. A startled yelp escaped your lips in immediate reaction.

"I know you don't know me enough, sweetheart, but we must hurry before Vash returns."

With a gentle tug, Conrad pulled you once again, and you noticed the locked door of your room wide open. How had this man sneaked past the armed men and reached you? Was this another mind game orchestrated by that pervert Vash? Yes, pervert. The memory of how he had pressed his every sinew against you a few days ago was still fresh in your mind, and you wanted to rip off your traitorous skin for finding his warmth pleasant. The guilt of enjoying the proximity of a freak who had kidnapped you due to your father killing his partner—Nicholas, who happened to be a man—weighed heavily. A man, you idiot! He was interested in men!

You berated yourself for being foolish, as he likely felt nothing while pinning you against a wall and leering at your cleavage. And wait! The situation grows even more fucked up because, somehow, the fact that he didn't become aroused bothered you more than being trapped within his limbs.

WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT HIM IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS?

Oh, deities! These feelings of yours had no logical justification, aside from the possibility that prolonged isolation and lack of sunlight had shrunk your brain or perhaps your subconscious harbored a cunning scheme. Because, just maybe, if you could entice him... there might be a chance...?

For fuck's sake!

You and your female body offered no advantage in this war. Ugh! Since when had you sunk to such levels of degradation? No wonder self-revulsion coursed through you. Sure, you weren't exactly spoiled for choices, but seriously! Attempting to seduce your kidnapper to find a way out? Had you truly lost your mind?

"Hurry up, sweetheart."

You resisted, and in an effort to stall, you asked, "H-how did you pass the guards?"

"I'm their family doctor. Now get up, please."

Leaving you with no other choice, he hoisted you up, hastening your progress while making an effort to maintain silence.

"Where are we going?" You were nearly frantic, and confusion was muddling your thoughts. Mainly, you couldn't figure out why the hell he was helping you. Wasn't he also involved with the Mafia?

It was then he looked at you, wearing a deranged smile. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe. No one will ever find you, I promise."

A lump lodged in your throat, and you struggled to swallow as the gravity of your situation grew increasingly apparent. No one would ever find you. While he might be rescuing you from Vash and his unhinged brother, it didn't guarantee that you wouldn't require saving from him either.

"Why are you doing this?" You breathed, your gaze darting around the basement, desperately seeking a way out of this dire predicament. There appeared to be only one visible exit, and he was guiding you directly toward it. For all you knew, he would lock you in a box and feed you through a glory hole. The image disturbed you so profoundly that you thought you'd rather take chances with twins instead.

"I became a doctor because I genuinely enjoy caring for people. But the hospitals never let me care for my patients the way I want."

Your heart dropped, and he peered at you with an unassuming innocence like a little boy admitting his crush to the prettiest girl in elementary school. His hand slipped into yours, holding it as though he were on the verge of kneeling down and proposing marriage. A frosty sensation embedded beneath your flesh, burrowing deep like a parasite. His hand was damp with sweat, but all you could feel was ice. This man… he was evil. Touching him felt akin to making contact with a dead body. You wanted to slide your hand from his and wipe it against the fabric of your t-shirt.

"I want to take care of you, sweetie. I-I'll treat you better than these people ever will. I promise I'll be good to you."

Your mouth opened, but no sound escaped. The fuck did he expect you to say to that? Yes, please, whisk me away to your creepy lair. Nothing would make me happier?

You wanted him to let you be free, not into the arms of another creep that would trap you for the rest of your life.

Stepping backward cautiously, you gingerly pried your hand from his grasp. His expression fell, and a wounded look flickered across his pale blue eyes as he watched your fingers slipping away from his. He reacted like he had bent down on one knee, and you had just declined his proposal.

"I-I'm not sure that's a good idea. If you do this, he'll know it was you," you cautiously voiced, attempting to reason with him. You didn't want to reject him flat out. His mental state seemed unstable at best, and you had no inkling of the true capabilities of this man.

Shaking his head, he snatched your hand angrily and pulled you forcefully. You suppressed a cry as he impatiently explained, " If we hurry, he won't suspect a thing. I have a plan; I just need you to come with me."

When he continued to drag you after him, your instincts to resist surged within you. Pain be damned, you snatched your hand out of his hold and scrambled backward. "No, I don't want to go with you," you snapped. His face morphed into a snarling demon, and the coldness radiating from him crystallized. This man was dead on the inside. He resembled nothing more than a rigid, decaying corpse.

You felt the burst of pain lancing across your cheek before you registered him moving. Your head whipped to the side, and fire erupted on the side of your face. Gasping, your mouth popped open as you instinctively clasped your stinging cheek, feeling something wet coat your fingers.

Pulling your hand away, you found several drops of blood tainting your skin. He backhanded you with a fucking ring on. A wedding ring. A mix of disgust and anger churned in your stomach, but you kept your mouth shut.

This had become exceedingly precarious, and you no longer had the luxury of doing or saying whatever the hell you wanted without severe consequences. And as much as you were tempted to throw down with the old fart, you weren't sure if he was armed or not.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Think.

His breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, and his ruddy face displayed clear signs of fury. It felt as if you were gazing into the eyes of a fucking zombie, animated solely by the malevolence dwelling within. "I would lavish you with the treatment of a queen. You would want for nothing," he spat vehemently, slashing a hand through the air as he emphasized his final word.

You nodded your head. "Okay," you placated gently. "But you're scaring me just as much as they do."

His posture straightened, and you observed the anger drain from his gaze like it just now dawned on him that he was acting like a goddamn lunatic. So quickly, his face shifted from a state of hysteria to one of sheepish understanding. "You're right; I'm sorry," he acknowledged, stepping forward. "I'm just… if I'm going to get you out safely, we need to hurry, and it seems you're not cooperating." You tensed but refrained from retreating as he apologetically grabbed your hands. "I'm sorry I slapped you, my dear. I'm just trying to help you. Please, come with me. I promise you'll be happy with me."

The panic and surge of adrenaline reached perilous heights, causing your heart to thump painfully against your chest. It was fucking hard to concentrate when he was staring at you so eagerly, and your entire body felt like it had been mercilessly tossed through a fucking grinder. However, amidst this chaos, there lay a potential opportunity to escape if you played your cards right. You needed to get out with as minimal noise as possible without alerting the terror twins, which left you with two options: hit this clown over the head and flee or let him take you along while seeking an alternative way out. Regardless, one thing remained certain—you were not staying here.

"Okay," you whispered, wheezing in a breath through your constricted lungs. When he noticed your visible relaxation, he quickly followed suit, victory sparking in his icy pools.

Taking hold of your hand once more, he guided you towards the metallic doors, creating a cacophony of clattering sounds. Suppressing any resistance, you trailed behind him through the corridor, shutting the door behind you. He led you directly to the staircase, urging you to keep your steps light as your legs propelled you at an alarming pace. Halfway down, you teetered precariously, nearly colliding with a potted plant. Grasping and holding to the railing, you managed to steady yourself and stifle any loud squeak that threatened to escape. You felt like throwing up, the adrenaline and fear intense and biting at your nerves.

Taking a left turn, the two of you headed towards the living room but swiftly veered into the nearest door upon hearing heavy footsteps approaching from above. Locking eyes with the doctor, your heart raced impossibly faster, and your hands quivered violently as you entered the room.

Casting a glance around, a shiver ran through you, induced by the cold and darkness of the place. The entire room was saturated with shades of gray, lacking vibrancy or vitality. The light fixtures suspended above emitted a disconcerting hum, their surfaces tarnished by layers of dust and the remnants of deceased insects. There was an undeniable absence of anything that could breathe life into this place.

On the wall, a framed picture caught your attention. It depicted a woman with flowing black hair standing alongside two blond boys. Squinting your eyes against the dim light, you studied their features, trying to determine which one was Vash based on their overall appearance.

Goodness, could this be their mother? Surveying the room, you took note of the bed, the sizable bookshelf, the wardrobe, and the dressing table. Evidently, this was her personal space, and it appeared untouched since her passing.

Instead of a typical bedroom, the room gave off an eerie, haunted vibe. The thought of meeting your demise in this space was dreadful, even though it appeared that she had, since the air carried reminiscent of death itself.

As you moved past a table cluttered with empty flower vases, some broken, a dangerous thought crossed your mind. If you could grab one of those shattered fragments and strike him in the jugular, he would be silenced, succumbing to death within minutes. With that threat eliminated, you could seize the opportunity to escape. You weren't entirely sure of your plan beyond that point, but there would hopefully be somewhere you could find help.

With one quick glance, you noted that his unwavering gaze fixed straight ahead, intent on his mission to take you for his own. You grasped a sharp shard from the table. However, as you approached to strike, he detected your presence and turned just as you aimed for his neck. The shard sliced across his nape instead, deviating from your intended target.

Blood spurted onto your face, and you turned away, trying to shield your eyes from the crimson spray. Amid his screams, he retaliated by delivering another forceful backhand, launching you to collide with the unforgiving ground. You landed awkwardly on your spine and yelped from the impact. The agony radiated through your body, momentarily stealing your breath away, and he was on you before you could think of what to do next, let alone breathe.

"You bitch!" he bellowed as his hands tightened around your throat, forcefully slamming your head against the wooden parquet. Stars exploded in your eyes, preventing you from seeing anything for several seconds. It felt as if the back of your head had been cracked open, but the hands constricting your windpipe jolted you out of the abyss of torment.

Panic took over, so intense it felt like acid in your veins. With sheer desperation, you clawed at his hands, the force behind your actions leaving behind a trail of bloody scratches in their wake, but they didn't deter him.

Conrad's face was contorted into a pure rage, his pupils dilated until they were nearly black, and his teeth bared, every single yellow, crooked tooth on display. You thrashed and fought, but his grip remained unyielding. And it was then that your life played out before your eyes, flickering like scenes from an old movie reel.

Your mother bestowing upon you one of her sweet smiles whenever you uttered something ridiculous. Amelia, her head thrown back in uproarious laughter at something you said or did, revealing the endearing gap between her front teeth—a feature she despised but you cherished. The various lovers came and went, each with their own flaws, some more egregious than others. And then there was Vash, the fucking wrecking ball of a man who had led you into this inferno of searing flames, reducing you to mere ashes beneath its weight.

You should have …

As darkness overtook your vision, leaving only a faint glimmer of light, Conrad's grip on you suddenly loosened, and something wet and warm flooded over your face. With a desperate gasp, you opened your mouth, urgently drawing in a breath as your lungs expanded. The taste of copper flooded your tongue, and you inhaled so deep that your eyes bulged from their sockets. It took a few moments to register the shocking discovery that only half of Conrad's head remained suspended above you, a mere second before his lifeless body collapsed onto yours.

Your throat became a warzone, where coughing and a gurgled scream fought for dominance over your throat. Impossibly wide, your eyes beheld the grotesque sight of the doctor's disfigured head now resting upon your shoulder while a pool of crimson slowly seeped into your clothes. The constant coughing fit continued to wrack your body, causing near-convulsions as a swirl of emotions overwhelmed you. Trapped beneath the weight of a corpse, blood trickling into your mouth, you grappled with the horror of the situation. More of his brain matter clung to you than remained within his own exploded skull.

The fragrance reached your nostrils before its owner emerged. The distinct scent of leather permeated the air, accompanied by a subtle hint of smoke. Yet, there was something else mixed within, an aroma so stifling that it would typically prompt an eye-roll if it weren't so oppressively suffocating.

"Stop freaking out. You're fine." Vash's figure bent over you, staring down at you with annoyance and a tinge of anger. "Get used to the sight of dead bodies, love. Looks like you'll encounter plenty every time you attempt to escape."

Grabbing the scruff of Conrad's collar, he yanked him up and suspended him over your face again. An additional deluge of bodily fluids and cerebral fragments cascaded over you. Barely closing your eyes in just enough time, you used your hands as a barrier as Vash laughed and wrenched the body off of you, dragging it toward the corner.

Finally, the pressure eased, and you were able to breathe without coughing, but then a low whimper leaked past your lips. Your body instinctively curled inward, coiling into a tight ball, trying not to think about how blood was in your mouth yet thinking of nothing else.

You gagged, your stomach revolting from the thought. Abruptly, a forceful nudge against your shoulder interrupted the retching, momentarily halting your distress. His boot. Angry at the insult, you proceeded to spit on it, pure red splashing on the black leather. Two birds with one stone—a fuck you to Vash and an attempt to rid your mouth of Conrad's blood.

Vash seemed unfazed by the act, though. "You're going to be fine. Our Doc was trying to kidnap you," he remarked in a nonchalant manner.

"Just as you did. So, you're saying you deserve the same fate, right?" you hissed, your body beginning to go into shock. You trembled violently while a creeping numbness ran up your arms and legs, gradually enveloping them.

Stay calm.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

As Vash's laughter filled the air, you clenched your eyes shut and worked not to freak the fuck out. His presence closed in on you. You knew that he'd crouched down, hovering above you. A warm breath grazed your ear, accompanied by the persistent sound of his chuckles.

"You have a smart mouth on you, but it's not so smart in this world. My advice? Dumb it down until the only words you can speak is 'Yes, Vash.' That way, you'll last much longer."

A solitary tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, while a stifled sob threatened to rise from deep within your throat. "Isn't that what I'd want? To not last long? Better than suffering forever, right?"

He sighed wistfully. "You're right. You're going to die here anyway. I guess it's not a matter of how long you last but how bad it hurts when it's over," he murmured, infusing his words with a somber reflection.

Your trembling lip betrayed your emotional state. Vash let out another sigh, his tone tinged with renewed frustration. "Come on, get up. There's work to be done since you're so eager to die," he commanded, his impatience evident. Rising to his feet, he took a few steps away before glancing back in your direction, expecting you to follow his lead.

In a dazed state, you mustered the strength to sit up. The pain began to resettle in your bones, asserting its presence once more. "Can I at least take a shower first?"

There must be something deeply awry within you to pose such a question. However, if faced with the prospect of death, you would prefer to be drenched in your own blood rather than that of another wretched soul.

Vash's gaze scanned your body, stained with the color of blood, and a grin stretched across his face. "Of course, love. You may shower. I find it more satisfying to discipline a clean brat than one drenched in disobedience."

Fuck.

*

Having him join you in the shower would undeniably be a more bearable scenario than the alternative — being commanded to draw back the curtain and wash yourself. At the same time, he sat on the toilet seat, legs crossed, wholly engrossed in his precious gun. Neither you nor your bewildered mind could comprehend why you entertained the thought of his gaze fixated on your ass when it was evident that he derived greater joy from counting his dear bullets rather than observing a woman drenched in the remains of a deceased man.

Still, you maintained your back turned to him as the rivulets of blood cascaded down your skin, and you nearly puked with the sight of bone fragments and chunks swirling towards the drain.

Already drowned in the piles of troubles that seemed like you couldn't stay away from, you focused on avoiding thoughts of the impending torment awaiting you.Undoubtedly, he possessed an entrepreneurial spirit when it came to devising novel methods to unsettle and disturb you. However, deep down, you harbored the knowledge that whatever pain he had in store would not be lethal. As the maniac had emphasized, he required you alive to provoke your father—an ironic twist of fate indeed.

One thing was clear: this bastard would not permit you to escape unpunished. However, despite the fear of the unknown, it didn't deter you from vigorously scrubbing your skin with whatever shampoo and bar of soap you could find long after cleaning the blood. These seemingly innocuous acts of self-harm served as a means for you to assert control over your body when everything else in your life seemed beyond your grasp. Perhaps, in some way, you hoped that these toiletries could cleanse your physical being and eradicate the weight within, leaving you hollow and devoid of any feeling.

With a fleeting glance, you observed him from the corner of your eye. Resting upon the fucking toilet seat, he exuded elegance adorned in a meticulously tailored ensemble of crisp black garments. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of tattoos on his neck and chest. Yet, amidst his immaculate appearance, a striking and irregular gash marred the center of his chest, adding a mysterious element to his otherwise impeccable appearance.

Your eyes settled upon his deceptively innocent countenance: his big, droopy eyes, soft spiked hair, and pale pink lips, and something stirred within you, a fleeting spark that caused a subtle flush to grace your cheeks. However, swiftly averting your gaze, you turned your head away.

While you diligently washed and rinsed your hair, making an effort not to bend too far over, you couldn't help but notice him reclining with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched you intently, a mischievous amusement gleaming in his eyes, like someone enjoying himself in a private, dirty dance at an exclusive strip club. You couldn't deny a part of you relished the attention, though a twinge of shame accompanied the awareness. Shame on you, you attention whore!

You shuddered as you shut off the faucet and noticed how quickly he rose from his seat, snatching your towel from the hanger before approaching you. Instinctively, your hands moved to shield your breasts and front, only to be met with his chuckles. "I thought I made it clear that your nipples don't interest me, love," he remarked, and you noticed his gaze lingering momentarily on your chest before he tilted his head. "Although I must admit, they are rather captivating." A twinkle gleamed in his eyes as he playfully winked, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

Your eyes widened, momentarily frozen in surprise, as you registered what he had just said. Clutching yourself tighter, your cheeks flushed with embracement and anger. And then, to your surprise, with great care, Vash carefully unfurled the towel and held it out, creating a soft and protective cocoon within his hands. A mixture of emotions danced across your face — astonishment, repulsion, and a touch of defenselessness.

As Vash waited, your heart thudded in your chest, the rhythm quickening like that of a wounded animal wary of any display of affection. It was there. The situation's intimate nature heightening the electric current of awareness. Your gaze oscillated uncertainly between his eyes and the towel he held, your mind struggling to make sense of the sudden turn of events.

He nodded in acknowledgment, and with a subtle tremor in your hands, you slowly lifted your arms, yielding to his guidance as he threaded them through the openings of the towel. Your body briefly tensed, a wave of vulnerability sweeping over you as you felt the tenderness of his touch. It was as if the act of being helped and cared for by him had momentarily stripped away your self-assuredness.

In that instant, you became keenly attuned to his closeness, his mere presence, and an unspoken connection that seemed to materialize between you. Your breath caught in your throat as his hands lingered longer than necessary while his eyes met yours. For a suspended moment, time stood still. Then, his gaze settled upon your scars, jolting you back to reality, causing you to cringe and retreat from the depths of what you were about to get drowned.

Having seen that, Vash took a step back, allowing you space to adjust the towel to your desired comfort. While tying the robe, you found yourself momentarily dumbfounded, your voice stifled by a flicker of something deeper that had emerged—a burgeoning sense of familiarity.

Now, perched on the edge of your bed, your damp hair clung to your forehead and neck, mirroring the weight of the tumultuous emotions that had stuck themselves in your throat. The usual vibrancy of your eyes had dimmed, eclipsed by the shadows of stress and fear that cast over your face. Each passing second stretched into an agonizing eternity as you anxiously awaited his verdict on your punishment. Your hands trembled, restless, as they fidgeted in your lap while beads of nervous sweat formed on your brow.

In stark contrast, Vash appeared undisturbed, radiating an aura of tranquility. The asshole simply stood there, casually observing the pipes that snaked around the room. His gaze remained fixed upon them as though these seemingly mundane serpents possessed an inexplicable allure, as if they were the most mesmerizing objects in existence.

A flurry of unsettling thoughts passed through your mind, each more distressing than the last. What the fuck he wanted to do to you? The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, coiling into a tense knot in the pit of your stomach. Your heartbeat accelerated, hammering in your ears like an unyielding drumbeat, overpowering all other sounds.

The walls seemed to inch closer as time ticked, closing in on your lungs. You stole furtive glances at him, but his unreadable demeanor only heightened your anxiety, leaving you even more unsettled.

Your breaths grew shallow, coming in gasps, as Vash's focus shifted from the pipes to your worried face. A sly grin stealthily spread across his lips. That bastard! His eyes, brimming with mischief, bore into you, further heightening your fear. With a mocking tone, he uttered words that sent a chill down your spine: "Don't worry, love. We're just going to play a game."

Every syllable that escaped his lips reverberated through you, fueling the restlessness within you, like ants in your pants stoked by a raging fire. And then, it happened again. You found yourself feeling like helpless prey ensnared in a cage with a feral predator, incapable of evading the imminent threat that lurked within the confines of the room.

Your words, against your will, spilled out in fragmented stutters as you inquired, "Wh-What sort of game?" Your eyes were wide and unblinking, just like the mounting unease welling up within you.

A wicked smile crept across Vash's lips as he responded, "One of my favs." Evil oozed from his tone, further fueling your apprehension. Nasty motherfucker!

With a deliberate purpose, he closed the distance, settling beside you on the bed. Instinctively, you shifted away, creating a physical space between you, as if this small act could protect you from the blond menace.

However, the devil would not relent until he was sure you were firmly ensconced in the depths of his hell. Drawing nearer, his presence loomed over you, so close that you could feel his breath caressing your cheek. In response, you tightly shut your eyes, desperately attempting to suppress the urge to bite down on your quivering lower lip.

"Russian Roulette," he proclaimed, his voice calm yet brimming with a disturbing thrill. The words bleak like a macabre specter.

Your heartbeats raced with each other, your mind reeling with dread. Vivid visions of a lethal game flickered before your eyes, each one hauntingly distinct. With a trembling hand, you instinctively grasped at the fabric of your towel.

Summoning your bravery, you looked at Vash with a blend of fear and defiance coursing through your veins. "No," you murmured, your voice a whispered declaration. Despite the tremors coursing through you, your tone resonated with unwavering resolve. "I won't participate in your fucking game."

Vash erupted into laughter, his voice echoing in the nearly empty room and darting back to you even more powerfully. His eyes narrowed, the delight maintaining as he registered your resistance. But a creepy grin soon returned to his face, revealing his true sadistic personality

. "Oh, my naïve love," he sneered. " You misunderstand. You have no say in the matter. The game has already begun."

Perfect! A ruthless man entangled you in a dangerous game.

Vash's fingers coiled around the leather grip of his holster. In one swift, well-rehearsed motion, he extracted his colt from its dormant position and clicked the metallic hammer.

"See this, love?" Vash's voice was low and steady. "This here colt of mine, she's a beauty. And she's got six rounds in her chamber."

Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved several bullets, presenting his open palm to you. "But as you can observe," Vash continued, his voice laden with a subtle taunt, "we only have five bullets. That means one round remains in the firearm." Paying no mind to your horrified expression, he casually returned the bullets to his pocket. Tilting his head, he stared at your frightened face, moistening his lips with his tongue, a contented smile playing across his mouth. "The rules are simple," he declared, picking up his colt, rotating the cylinder, and disengaging the safety catch. "We shall take turns firing."

Your terror peaked when you witnessed him placing the barrel of the gun against his own temple. Your heart throbbed relentlessly in your chest as though it could burst through your ribcage. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you held your breath, your eyes locked onto the terrifying sight before you.

With a firm hand, he pulled the trigger.

Click.

The ringing noise was meant to valse across the room, but it was drowned out by your own piercing screams. You tightly shut your eyes, and your entire body trembled uncontrollably. Too much—far too much. This shit was unbearable. Fuck it.

His hand made contact with your neck, and your eyes snapped wide open.

A genuine smile adorned his face. "I must say, I'm deeply flattered. I didn't know you cared about me this much," he mocked, but his smile twisted into a sinister one as he extended the gun toward you. Shaking your head, you moved your hands behind your back, signaling your refusal to accept it. However, he grabbed your arm, pulled it forward, and firmly deposited the frigid metal into your palm.

"Rules are rules, love. I can't make an exception," he stated, tilting his head to gaze at you—your eyes filled with tears, your lips trembling, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. With a gulp, you shifted your gaze from the gun to his face.

"What? You thought just because I said I want to keep you alive, I'll ignore your disobedience?" he said and chuckled. "I told you not to cause trouble, yet you proceeded to do the exact opposite. You have disappointed me. While I may be a kind-hearted man, my patience, like anyone else's, has limits, and you pushed too many buttons at once."

"I-I didn't have a choice. The doctor, he... he forced me," you stammered, despising yourself for stuttering in front of this monstrous being, but you didn't care about your dignity as long as you could live long enough to have a chance to survive in this madhouse.

"Love," he murmured, his fingers caressing your neck, encased in black gloves that always hid his hands. The leather seared against your skin. "Let's not undermine my intelligence. If you truly didn't want to comply, you could have screamed, and someone would have come to your aid. After all, Conrad was not even armed. So, please, do not spoil the fun and continue playing along."

A frigid shiver coursed through your column as the shock settled in. Then remembering what he did to Elendira left you with no option but to participate. Reluctantly, your trembling fingers made contact with the pistol's chilling surface as you held it. The weight of your decision pressed down upon you as if the entire world had shifted onto your fragile shoulders.

Casting a final glance at him, you beseeched him with your eyes, silently begging for mercy as he withdrew. Yet, his gaze held no trace of compassion, only a twisted sense of gratification. Uncontrollably shaking, you held the gun up to your temple with a heavy heart.

In that haunting moment, you closed your eyes, uttered a whispered prayer, and pulled the trigger. The room descended into a deafening silence, broken only by the stark knowledge that you, too, had survived. Yet, this fragile triumph couldn't prevent the shattering of your composure. Overwhelmed by relief and emotional exhaustion, tears welled up in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks.

A ghastly grin stretched across the corners of Vash's lips as he invaded your personal space once more. Masking his true intentions with a sham display of concern, he extended his hand in an attempt to offer solace. However, as his touch made contact with your skin, involuntarily, you pulled away, your tears mingling with fear and disgust. His facade was transparent; you could recognize his attempts to exploit your vulnerability.

Vash's voice permeated the room, tinged with a sickly sweet tone. "There, there," he murmured, his words oozing with insincere empathy. " It's alright, love. You're safe, at least for the time being."

Your sobs shattered the air, a poignant expression of your struggle to fathom the extent of his cruelty. The tears served as more than just an indication of fear; they were also a cathartic release of anger, frustration, and an urgent plea for freedom. Keep your shits together, girl!

A wicked gleam glowed in Vash's eyes as he carried on with his bizarre act. "To motivate you, if I happen to die today, my men will set you free without hesitation. So, let's not stop now, shall we?" he coaxed, his voice dripping with a corrupted charm. "It is my turn once more. May your fervent prayers come to fruition, and I meet my demise, for otherwise, you shall endure yet another round."

He and his mocking priest tone.

You wouldn't be upset at all if his brain splattered onto you and necessitated yet another shower.

Without any pause or second-guessing, Vash brazenly pressed the gun against his own temple, and with a self-assured smirk, he pulled the trigger, his eyes twitching with a disturbing sense of fulfillment.

Nothing.

No fucking thing.

Watching in the eerie silence, your heart sank with disbelief, disappointment, and a glimmer of lost hope. As much as you had hoped for a different outcome, a chance for freedom from this torment, it eluded you yet again.

With each passing moment, Vash's smug expression grew more pronounced, his gaze fixated on yours, savoring your anguish. You comprehended that your turn had resurfaced, and despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, an ember of determination ignited within your heart. Something shifted within you. This bastard may not have a plan to die tonight, but he could do nothing to stop you.

You embraced a newfound acceptance of your fate in a departure from resistance or yielding to fear. Surrendering to the Lady Death, you positioned the weapon against your forehead and quickly squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

Again.

No.

Why?

A hushed silence permeated the room, and within its depths, a wave of hope surged through you. Like a delicate seed of possibility, it found its place within your heart, taking root and blossoming.

You survived. Once more, you dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, you had been granted a chance to turn the tables on your tormentor. If it wasn't you, then it could very well be him. Your spirit, once dampened, now flourished with a sense of supremacy.

"Happiness suits you," Vash said, extending his hand to retrieve the gun. "Your smile reaches your eyes."

He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. You knew. Shitweasel!

"Go to hell!" you spat, devoid of any shred of compassion in your words.

"Stone cold, love. Stone cold," Vash retorted, his tone mockery. "You're breaking my heart."

"Monsters don't have a heart!" you exclaimed and had to ball your fists to control the thrills tripping your heart. You were almost too distracted by the anger to understand the significance of what you were saying.

"Is that so?" Vash responded, unwavering in his gaze, as he pressed the gun against his own throat.

Fire.

You watched in horror and disbelief how the room fell into oppressive silence. The gun had clicked empty five times already, a grim reminder that the bullet in the chamber was reserved for you.

You felt your body tensing, your breath catching in your throat as a wave of paralyzing fear swept over you. Your condition jolted you to your core like a physical blow. Standing on the edge of death, every fiber of your being screamed in terror. The line between life and death blurred, and you found yourself teetering on the edge of an unfathomable abyss.

Vash lowered the gun and shrugged. "Look what happened, love. Maybe your little Gods have abandoned you too," Laughing sickeningly, he said. You felt nauseated as each repulsive word seeped into your ears. When your own father abandoned you, telling these truths face-to-face was cruel, even for someone like him. You had to fight back tears because you knew that no matter how much he hurt you, he would never understand the magnitude of the pain he had caused. You wouldn't satisfy him. Not anymore.

Driven by an urgent desire to end this fucking misery, your trembling hands reached out, desperate to seize the gun from his grip. But your attempts were thwarted as Vash's hand closed around yours. You looked at him with burning anger and tried to free your hand from his; the iron grip refused to release its hold. "Didn't you want to play? Now it's my turn, and I want to finish my fucking round."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to win," Vash's voice dripped with malice as he offered an ultimatum chance. " As proof that even monsters have a heart, I'll offer another option. It's up to you whether you kill yourself or I devise another punishment. But—"

Refusing to give into his vicious desires, you resolved to take matters into your own hands. It would be much better for you if you faced the gun and put an end to this torture. Nonetheless, you got hit with a fucking new rule. A nasty note reverberated from Vash's voice, a reminder of what lay ahead. "...So, choose wisely, love, because if anything happens to you, your sister will suffer the same fate."

You were overwhelmed, your mind clouded by heavy fog, and your sanity was tested. You faced a harrowing dilemma as your love for your sister was entwined with your fear. You could never bear the idea of Amelia suffering the same fate as you.

So, you were caught between self-preservation instincts and the desire to protect her. However, your choice was clear. Every time, it was clear. Your loved ones always took precedence over yourself, and Vash seemed to know how to fucking finger the shit out of your weakness.

Having loosened your grip, you lowered your head in acceptance as you surrendered yourself to the dark thoughts of the man before you.

"Mm," he chirped in delight. "Such a good girl."

You pinched your eyes shut, not even a single strand of hope threading throughout the hysteria.

He tsked. "You're very predictable, love. We're going to have to work on that."

As you sat motionless, a realization gripped you: escape from this house was an unattainable feat. He was smart, but the scariest part was your inability to anticipate a single one of his thoughts. You felt like a dumb rabbit while he, as cunning as a fox, remained one step ahead.

"You're not touching me," you hissed, your voice wobbly and rife with unshed tears.

"What you gonna do if I do?" He directed his gaze toward the ceiling and the pipes. "I'm glad it's the dead of night, and this room is almost soundproof. So, you won't disturb anyone's peaceful slumber."

Driven by instinct, fear propelled you to your feet as you hurriedly made your way to the door, frantically grasping the handle and repeatedly tugging it up and down.

Open!

Please, open!

As you wrestled with the doorknob, attempting to force it open, a sturdy steel arm suddenly encircled your waist and lifted you off the ground.

"NO!" A piercing scream erupted from your lips as you kicked futilely at the space, fiercely resisting his grip.

"Oh, yes, love," he growled, swinging your body towards the wall.

You grunted from the impact, leaning your back against the wall; this time, you used it as leverage to kick against the bastard of a man. "Let me go, you fucking creepy-ass fuck—"

"Keep talking, and you'll just make it worse."

You screeched, out of breath and growing weaker, as he pinned your flailing body against the wall, rendering you powerless.

"We had a deal, didn't we?" Vash asked in a panting tone.

A tear spilled over your lid. And then another and another until you were on the verge of sobbing again. "We had, but—"

"Don't cry, love," he cooed. "It's going to get so much worse."

His breath skated over your cheek as he pressed himself further into your body, just like in the previous encounter. Towering over you, his larger frame enveloped you completely until all you could see, feel, and smell was him—his warmth, the distinctive scent that was uniquely his, and the way his black-clad body surrounded you.

"I like you scared," he whispered, sending shivers down your core. "I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for imaginary Gods to save you."

You felt the touch of leather on your face, and you flinched away. His fingers delicately traced a path from your cheekbone to your hair, gently tucking stray strands behind your ear. "I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably."

"You're sick," you snapped, doing just that. You were shaking from head to toe, and you couldn't seem to stop it.

"You think your pleas will only arise when your life is at stake, but you are mistaken," he grunted, letting out a deep, mocking laugh. "In due time, you will beg for my touch, craving it desperately."

"That'll never happen," you hissed, glaring at him with all your might. Or at least you thought you were. The dim light emanating from the ceiling lights shadowed his eyes. It felt almost like being far-sighted. Your face was so close to something, but clarity evaded you. The shadows were a part of him. He carried them around.

"It's time to punish you, and I've thought of the many ways I could do this," he said, ignoring your jab. It only infuriated you more that he found your lack of consent so inconsequential. So… worthless. "I'll be nice this time." You opened your mouth, but he cut you off with a deep growl of warning, "But only if you reciprocate, love."

Your teeth audibly snapped together, the sound punctuating the air and drawing yet another amused grunt from him. Your pride took a hit, and you wanted to knee him in the balls for it, but you couldn't lift your leg an inch as you tried.

"You freak! What are you going to do?" you spat out, the stutter of your words in sync with the beat of your heart. His searing breath brushed against your cheek as you felt the gentle glide of his lips tracing along your jawline. You swallowed but nearly choked from how dry your throat had become. Those lips descended to the column of your neck, skittering along until he paused on the spot right below your ear.

"I'm gonna play with my toy," he declared right before his teeth clamped down. Your back arched involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in your nerves, sending misfires to your brain. All coherent thoughts escaped from your mind, leaving behind only primal instincts to guide your actions.

But, somehow, as if he was electrocuted, he distanced himself. His gaze shifted downwards towards the collar of his shirt. The cross was there, concealed on his chest. His eyes changed momentarily, remorseful, maybe disgusted by what he had become. As if he was lost, struggling to find himself, but instead, his eyes found you—the one with the answers.

You wished you could show him hatred, but seeing your pleasure, he groaned, his teeth piercing as his tongue lapped at your flesh. Your mouth opened, and a silent scream suctioned away just as his mouth did the same, drawing in deep like he was drinking the essence from your body. And then, with a lingering sensation of pain, he withdrew, his teeth grazing your skin as he released his hold, leaving behind a stinging reminder.

Your hands pressed into his chest for stability or to push him away. You were not sure. Though your question was quickly answered when instinct coerced your hands to curl, gripping his shirt tight and anchoring yourself to him as if he was your lifeline. When in reality, he was the one killing you.

Severe shivers wracked your body when he licked a wet path with his tongue, descending from your neck toward the juncture where your scars resided. He paused, and it felt like your body teetered precariously over a sharpened blade. You held your breath, the anticipation rattling your bones. And then he was biting down again, pulling an animalistic sound from your chest. He did this, over and over, leaving behind a trail of bruises that marked his territory along your neck and across your shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away. "Good girl," he finally exhaled, his own voice airy. Somehow, that made you feel worse. You wanted him to hate it as much as you should've. "You like this, don't you?"

"I…ah," you panted, trying hard to conceal the depths of your desires because you were revealing more and more as he went further. You were fucking seconds away from reaching out and grabbing his cock through his pants and begging him to fuck you since you hadn't been touched by a human for a long time, let alone a man, and this thing in front of you had the power to make you momentarily forget everything, despite being the very reason for your need to escape reality. Then something occurred to your mind.

You couldn't explain why you did what you did next. You would ask Gods later. But at that moment, you were so overcome with a tsunami of emotions that you reached up and bit his tattooed neck. Hard, and you didn't care, just bit harder. Maybe you wanted to hurt him back, give him a taste of his own medicine, make him feel whatever you felt.

Regardless of the reason, he didn't take kindly to it. His hand wrapped around your throat, exerting pressure as he forcefully pushed you back, simultaneously tearing himself away from your body. He was squeezing tightly, but you couldn't care less. You felt justified. If he killed you here and now, at least you could say you left one last mark on him.

He growled low, a sound of frustration and an unnamed emotion that eluded definition. "I'm beginning to think you like to be punished, which means I'm just going to have to do better."

Before you could react, he hoisted you up, effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Fucker!" you snapped, your fists pounding against his back as you thrashed your exposed legs. You were not a potato.

A sharp smack to your ass was his only response. "Love, the wind can do more harm than what you're doing."

"Want to see my teeth again, asshole? I'll sure to grab your ugly face this time."

"Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, we both know you can't resist stealing glances at this face," he retorted, amusement coloring his words. Snarling, you resented his fucking unruffled calm. And because he was not entirely wrong. No, dumbass, he was wrong. He must be wrong.

More curses flooded out of your mouth, but they were cut short when he dragged your body down his front until your legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was cradling you to his chest. Oh, fuck this. You lifted your hands to scratch his face, maybe do a little eye-gouging, but instead, you just squealed. He swooped you backward, your stomach bottoming out as he set you on the bed, flat on your back. Your towel came undone, leaving you inadequately covered when he hovered over you, his arms positioned on either side of your head as he braced himself over you. You swallowed, tears pricking your eyes. "What a gentleman! Letting me look at your obnoxious face as you murder me," you mouthed off, forcing the words through your tightened throat.

You really needed to shut the fuck up. But you couldn't seem to stop yourself. Apparently, when you were in a life-threatening situation, all you could manage to do was make it worse. While some might perceive it as fearlessness, you could only assume it as an act of sheer stupidity.

Balancing himself with one hand, he reached behind him with the other. As you prepared to unleash more insults from your mouth, his arm emerged, revealing a tightly gripped gun.

Another audible tick of your teeth later, you were back to being choked silent with fear.

"I told you not to run away. I told you to follow the orders," he stated, his tone bled dry of emotion. "Typically, I would choose to crack open your skull and forcibly implant the words in your brain, but it seems you require a different method to learn your lesson."

"Okay, I'm sorry," you rushed out, your eyes widening as he pointed the gun at your chest. "I-I'm really, rea—"

"Shh," he hushed. "You're not sorry yet, love. But you will be."

A myriad thoughts ran through your head on what you could possibly say to get out of this. You were sorry clearly, wasn't good enough. "You're going to shoot me?"

Your bladder threatened to explode, and knowing that you might die in a puddle of pee brought tears to your eyes. A bewildering cocktail of emotions engulfed you. Fear had gripped you tightly, its icy tendrils coiling around your heart, as you found yourself trapped in this fucked up situation. Yet, amidst the suffocating grip of fear, there was a grotesque sense of fascination. You couldn't deny the perverse allure that came with the feeling of being trapped, as if a part of you savored being confined, even as it elicited a thrilling sensation. WHAT? What the fuck was wrong with you?

"You gonna taste this gun one way or another," he responded, his tone dripping with impatience. He punctuated his response by dragging the gun down through the valley of your breasts. The weapon continued its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your towel robe's tie. "Will you take the bullet or the gun?" As he inclined his head, his neck tattoos stretched, emphasizing the presence of the pulsating veins that wound their way toward his enigmatic mind. Meanwhile, the small golden loop on his left ear playfully winked at you while he patiently awaited her response.

"Are you fucking serious?" you panicked, your hands gripping the ends of the tie tightly, the fabric moist with sweat. He must be kidding, right?

"I was going to take it easy on you, but when you act like a rabid puppy, you leave me with no choice but to tame you," he said, tracing the tip of his gun along the edges of the towel. "This is your last chance, or I'll do as I see fit."

Your lip trembled, and a single tear slid down your temple. "Please, don't do this."

He cocked a brow, and the act was damning. He appeared so damn unimpressed with your pleas, causing another tear to trace the path of the first. You had to survive, didn't you? You had to endure long enough to witness this man's demise with your own eyes, didn't you? It couldn't hurt that much, could it? Just focus on counting, fixating your gaze upon the cracks in the wall, and listening to the faint chirping of crickets emanating from the pipes.

You gulped and answered, "I-I'll…"

"You'll what? I need you to be loud and clear."

"Y-your…your gun…" you stuttered, words all dropping dead on your dry tongue.

"What about my gun?" he inquired, sliding the weapon beneath the towel and directing it towards your bellbottoms. " Say it, love. Utilize that sharp tongue of yours that knows how to hurl curses."

With your eyes tightly shut, you released your grip on the tie, your hands trembling. "I... I'll... I'll take the gun."

"Take off your towel," he ordered, moving back a little. "Now!"

Sniffing, you finally listened. Hooking your thumbs into the towel's belt, you undid the tie. You fought the urge to cover yourself. Because you knew that the act of hiding would bring him greater delight than being almost entirely naked before him. He dug the thrill of conquering through struggle, and you were determined to deny him that win. You were only able to slide it a little before the muzzle of the gun got in the way.

He took the hint, grabbed the towel, and harshly moved it aside. More tears followed suit as you stuck your thighs together.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

You did as he said; your gaze got tied with his. Yet, as you stared into his eyes, you noticed something unexpected. No hatred, resentment, or even lust reflected in them. Instead, it was a vacant look devoid of any deeper meaning. It dawned on you that violence was his only language, his sole response to the world around him. He had not learned any other way to navigate life. Perhaps the only bright spot in his existence had been his beloved, cruelly taken away.

Maybe, but maybe in a parallel world, you thought, he could have been a different person—a better person, surrounded by love and family. In that alternate reality, you might have looked at him with a second glance, for his eyes, deep azure pools, his lips, and his face were reminiscent of something celestial, qualities that angels would possess, not those cast out from heaven.

Vash's touch shocked you back to reality, causing you to startle, as if you were about to leap out of your own skin. You had to beg your bones to stop shaking.

"Next, your hands," he commanded, jerking his gun to emphasize his directive. Reluctantly, you moved your arms away from your body and let them drop onto the sheets with a huff.

"Stunning," he murmured, his eyes tracing over the curves of your body. He leaned over you again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on your shoulder. "Do you know what these mean?" he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to a different spot on your skin.

You shuddered beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing across your skin. You didn't answer, but he didn't seem to mind. "Those marks," he stated with a sense of ownership, "signify that you belong to me."

The tip of his tongue darted out, trailing your flesh as he moved down toward your breasts.

"Don't—"

His teeth pierced the cigarette burns on your left breast before you could finish your futile plea. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as he left another mark on your skin. "Now, whenever you see these burns, you'll remember me, not that wretched excuse of a man who's supposed to be your father," he said, claiming your old remnants of torment as his own, leaving his mark upon them.

Once satisfied, he moved to the other one, leaving his own hickeys on your scars. And all you could do was just take it. Because you preferred to associate these scars with his sorrowful souvenirs rather than the memories of your father. To be Frank, in some inexplicable way, he seemed to be aiding you in moving past the deep-seated hatred that had festered within your heart for years. It was as if he was sucking that venom out of you, diverting your wrath towards himself. Did he do this on purpose, or was it merely an unintended consequence of his cruelty?

When your body was well and abused by his teeth and tongue, he lifted and forced your thighs apart. You strained against him, but it only hurt you in the end. He was too strong. With a firm grip on your waist, his clothed forefinger traced the delicate crease of your groin, starting from the juncture of your thigh and trailing downward toward the very center of your being.

Before his finger reached your clit, he tantalizingly ran it up and down your engorged vulva, coming perilously close to your pussy. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt deeply ashamed as you realized your body was responding to his touch. You wanted to cover your face because you knew he was feeling your body's betrayal.

"You're drenched," he rasped out, his lips still wet from his saliva. The sweet Vash with kind eyes had vanished entirely.

"That's called discharge! Your gay ass wouldn't know that!" you snapped, hoping your lie would shoo him away.

He responded with a smile. "As much as I hate to say this to you, I'm no stranger to a woman's pussy and what it feels like when it weeps for me."

Your eyes widened. So this fucker had slept with women too? It seemed he had explored every possible avenue. Disgust curled your lip as you retorted, "Last time I checked, most girls weep because they're upset. Maybe you should take a hint."

He let out a chuckle. "Love, that's exactly what I'm doing."

With a firm grip, he spread your legs apart, baring your pussy to him, where the arousal glistened from within. He muttered a curse under his breath as his eyes hungrily devoured every detail of your being. Another tremble of your lips had you biting down on the traitorous flesh.

With one finger still positioned on your pussy, he raised the gun to your face with his other hand. You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut and letting loose a startled yelp. "Calm down," he reassured you, his tone strained. "I just want you to suck it."

It took several seconds for his words to register. To process that he didn't pull the trigger and you were not dead. As the comprehension dawned, your eyes flew open, and you shot him a fierce glare. "Why the hell—"

He tapped the gun's tip against your mouth, effectively cutting you off. The remainder of your words dissipated into thin air as he glided the gun across your lips, almost as if he was painting them with lipstick.

"Suck," he ordered, his tone deepening with finality. Closing your eyes against more tears, you opened your mouth and obediently opened your mouth, allowing him to guide the gun between your teeth. You squeezed your lids tighter as you twirled your tongue over the cold metal, cringing from the nasty taste.

"My good girl," he said, pulling the dripping gun out, a trail of saliva following until it snapped.

Your entire body locked when the cool metal slid against your clit. You flinched against the foreign touch of an incredibly dangerous weapon. A wave of pure terror washed over you, and it took all your strength to keep from full-on sobbing.

Holding a gun to your head was far less intimidating than it being held between your legs. A gunshot to the head would bring instant death, but this? This would be slow and painful. Torturous.

He leaned in, close enough for his warm breath to caress your core. You raised yourself, yearning for a clearer view. He met your gaze at that moment, peering up at you through his long, thick lashes, his perfect blue eyes sparkling with delight.

As you parted your lips to question what he was doing, he stuck out his tongue, saliva pooling to the tip and dripping off onto your pussy.

"Seems like you can never be too wet, can you, love?" Sitting up, he traced circles around your entrance with the gun, the metal slipping against your skin.

What if he shoots you mistakenly?

"Oh, my God, please do—" This time, your words were cut off as he pressed the gun past your folds. Just the tip, but enough to close your throat, only allowing a startled squeak to escape.  

He laughed cruelly. "Don't hold back. Moan if you want."

You'd snap at him if you weren't frozen solid. You couldn't look away. Helplessly, you just watched him push the gun inside you, your rounded eyes barely processing what you saw and felt. Everything so fucking surreal.

Slowly, he worked the gun inside you, eliciting both pleasure and pain. You clenched your jaw, shuddering from his ministrations but refusing to make a sound. You were determined not to grant him the satisfaction.

He gradually worked the weapon halfway in before retracting it to the very tip, granting you a brief moment to catch your breath. However, that respite was short-lived as he buried the entire barrel deep within you. Your hands clenched the sheets as you sucked in a sharp gasp and let your head fall back, unable to bear witness any longer, drained of the strength to endure the sight.

This was so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.

As the gun pulled back and penetrated you once more, a noise did slip through as a wave of pleasure rocked through you. FUCK!

"Good girl," he breathed. "Now open wider, love." His free hand nudged against your thigh. Without a thought, your thighs instinctively parted further. Another praise, but you barely heard it over the beating of your heart.

"I can feel how tight your pussy is. The way it clings to my gun when I slide it out—exquisite."

You bit your lip, but it wasn't enough to hold in the forthcoming moan. Or the one after that. You could hear the suctioning and slurping noises as he fucked you with his gun, and shame filled you in response. The embarrassment nearly overrode the fear. But neither was more potent than the pleasure your body was compelled to submit to.

When he angled the gun in a particular way, he hit the spot inside you that sent your eyes to the back of your head and an unchecked moan to slip free. He growled in response, further fueling your arousal. Your back arched as he skillfully continued to target and stimulate that pleasurable area.

Your hole grew impossibly tight, biting into the gun barrel when his gloved hand gripped your thigh in a bruising hold. Your heart jumped when he leaned closer but only clamped his teeth onto your inner thigh. You cried out from the sharp bite, but it quickly morphed into a moan, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body as he hit that spot again.

His mouth sucked your thigh, and his movements quickened until you felt the familiar stirrings of an impending orgasm settled low in the pit of your stomach.

"Please," you begged but didn't know what for. He relented, briefly tearing his mouth away, only to clamp down again, this time lower but still frustratingly distant from your center. Too far away. Sadly far away.

"Tell me what you learned, love," he demanded, looking up at you, his mouth wet from his biting. The sight made your heart drop deep into your belly, right to where the gun was driving into you.

"Not to bite you?" you guessed, your voice trembling as if you were high. He answered by biting your thigh in a punishing grip. You cried out, the pain blinding. He loosened his jaw, allowing the pain to blend with pleasure.

A primal, guttural sound slipped out as he thrust the gun deep. "Are you going to make me ask again?"

You opened your mouth, but no answer came out. Your silence allowed you to hear his warning loud and clear. He cocked the gun.

"Okay, okay, fuck," you relented with a terrified hush. "I-I learned not to run away from my cage." Those words brought tears to your eyes because uttering them aloud made you feel truly trapped by this man.

"Who owns your life, love?"

You closed your eyes, resenting the lie on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill forth just like the tears streaming down your face. "You," you whispered, the bitter taste of the words clogging your throat.

A battlefield raged in your body.

One part of you craved his touch, longing for him to make you come. Meanwhile, another part of you harbored a dark desire, wishing for him to turn the gun upon himself and fire it.

You glanced downwards at him and noted how he was staring at you. And you had the terrifying realization that he saw through your deceit and didn't believe your lies.

"You have ten more seconds to come, love. No more chances after that," he warned before nipping at your thigh again. "Rub your clit."

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was allow this man the satisfaction of making you come and, even worse, helping him do it. In your mind, he didn't fucking deserve it. And though your body was strung tight with desperation for release, your mind rebelled against the idea.

"Now," he shouted, his eyes blazing with something carnal and dangerous.

Muttering a curse, you reached down and twirled your fingers over your clit, too scared of the potential consequences. If it was between orgasming and getting shot, you were going to have to choose the option that would cause the least damage.

"Good girl," he whispered. It took two more thrusts of the gun before you were propelled over the edge, your ass shooting clear off the ground as the orgasm ripped through you. You were screaming. You could feel the sound vibrating the muscles in your throat and turning it increasingly hoarse. But you couldn't hear it. Not when your entire being was consumed in fire and ice, and you could only see a blissful heaven.

The gun worked inside of you faster and deeper, drawing out the orgasm until you were literally begging for it to come to an end. He ripped the weapon out of you, and your thighs snapped shut instantly, sealing off the remnants of your shameful orgasm.

You were left a shuddering mess from the aftershocks as the waves of pleasure subsided. Meanwhile, his body towered over you. Through your half-lidded eyes, still jerking from the little shocks, you glanced up and met his gaze. His face broke into the broadest smile you had ever seen on his face, and you noticed he had dimples.

He had fucking dimples.

He was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. And you wished you'd never seen it. Because something inside your heart was being torn apart, and it felt like fear, it tasted like panic, and you didn't know how to understand the image in front of you.

You didn't want to see Vash like this. You vehemently refused to perceive him as anything other than a monster. This wasn't right. Your body was full of rage, humiliation, and shame—you knew this. But it was like your brain couldn't process those emotions, so it was just choosing to feel nothing at all. Was this what trauma did? Knowing that you had been violated, yet your body opting for a state of numbness instead?

The silver cross sprung from his shirt, diverting your gaze to the scar it adorned. "Lick this clean," he said, placing his gun onto your bared breast. "I can't use this when it's dripping your cum."

Like a magic trick, he pulled his body back, and every heat you had in your veins disappeared. With one last lingering look, he stood up and turned his back to you, his hands probably adjusting his pants. Then he began to walk leisurely toward the wall, floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Not even a passing glance was spared in your direction. Probably you didn't exist for him anymore. He had taken what he wanted, reducing you to nothingness.

Men.

As he neared the worn-out brick wall, his hand delved into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette. With practiced precision, he placed it in the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as he reached for his lighter, or perhaps it was merely a figment of your imagination. Anyhow, he poised himself to ignite the flame, preparing to immerse himself in the disgusting cloud of smoke that would soon envelop him.

You moved without thinking, your hand wrapping around the sticky gun. You would never lick this shit. You stood on your feet, not caring about covering yourself. The second he realized what you'd done, he backed away, raising his hands in surrender—the stupid cigarette dangling between his lips.

You pointed the gun right at his fucking head, and all you wanted to do was blow it off. All you wanted to see was his brain exploding beneath the bullet. Because you were not looking into the face of the man who could easily steal your heart under different circumstances. You didn't see him at all. You only saw a faceless man who took what he wanted from you, and you let him. But now you wanted him to fucking burn for it.

Tears built in your eyes, your vision blurring. The gun was vibrating from how hard your hand trembled, but he stood close enough that you'd strike accurately. Whether the bullet hit his head, his throat, or his chest, you didn't care.

"Love," he whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the sweet but stupid, stupid, stupid whisper out of your head. You didn't want to hear it.

"I haven't done anything to you." Your voice cracked. "How can you hurt me like this?" Your eyes burned from the tears welling up. And within seconds, they spilled, running down your cheeks. It seemed like orgasm had pushed your feelings out with itself.

And he seemed to realize it too because a subtle change reflected in his eyes. "I asked you to stay away from trouble," he murmured, his voice so soft. "Why don't you listen to me?" He bared his teeth, his own ire flashing in his eyes. "Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"

"I do!" you shouted, thrusting the gun at him. You sucked in a sharp breath as a sob climbed up your throat. He nodded slowly, a glimmer of understanding replacing the anger that had once flamed in his eyes.

Deep down, you knew better. You knew he wasn't angry with you. He was angry because he was helpless. Hopeless. A goddamn lost cause. Because he would never be the same, and he knew that. But what he didn't know was what to do with it.

A sob escaped your throat, but the rage persisted. He slowly stepped towards you, like approaching a frightened animal with vicious teeth. His eyes didn't stray from yours as he advanced, and you were so close to slipping back into that paralyzing hold he had on you. Then he was right before you again, pressing his lips into the gun barrel.

"Does this make you feel powerful?" he murmured.

Another sob broke free, but you didn't lower the weapon.

"Does this make you feel free?"

You scowled but couldn't muster the courage to respond. You couldn't articulate what it made you feel—you just knew it made you feel something. You stared at the gun in your hand, at the smooth, heavy metal, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed the way it nestled within your grip, like an extension of your body. It didn't frighten you anymore.

You could stand still in this moment forever.

"What you seem to have forgotten," he snarled, "is that I am already a dead man. I died months ago. So go ahead, pull that trigger, love. End the remaining fragments of my existence. I am nothing but a hollow vessel."

You broke and screwed your eyes shut against the flood of tears, but it was like putting a flimsy piece of paper over a bursting pipe. Agony etched across your face, consuming you completely. "I don't want to be here," you choked out, barely getting the words out before a gut-wrenching sob tore through your trembling lips.

"Let me help you—fuck love, just fucking kill me," he bit, his voice breaking. He opened his mouth, and the barrel slid in. His lips tightly closed around the gun, his eyes staring at you, begging you.

Pull the trigger.

It wasn't fair, but it was becoming harder and harder to look at Vash and blame him, too. You were beginning to revert to that weak, thoughtful part of yourself that was convinced your life wouldn't be such a goddamn shitshow if your father didn't come barreling into it.

But no! You would no longer let your emotions get in the way. You were supposed to play this game by its own rules. So if it were your turn to shoot, you would do it.

No hesitating. No understanding. Just pulling this little trigger.

Click.

To your dismay, there was only a vacant stillness, a blackhole that swallowed your hopes and replaced them with a rising tide of unease. Your chest resonated with the thunderous cadence of your own heart, the loud thud filling your ears as you refused to accept the defeat. Ignoring the gnawing doubts gnarling at your mind, you pulled the trigger again and again and again.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of the emptiness mocked your growing desperation.

A cold sweat bead on your brow as you stumbled backward, your body shaking with disbelief. Your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the gun, and when your gaze met his face, your world unraveled further into a maelstrom of darkness. His lips contorted into a wicked grin, now devoid of the innocence and sadness he pretended to have. The sight sent a tremor scurrying up your soul, your skin prickling with a nauseating blend of aversion and revulsion.

"You taste fantastic, love" Vash's voice slithered with a perverse delight as he savored the moment, his tongue caressing his lips in a vile display. His hands, tainted with malice, raked through his disheveled hair. Then with an ear-splitting crack, he twisted his neck, relishing in the discomfort he inflicted upon himself. "You hate me enough to try pulling the trigger four times?"

Your blood ran icy as his words seeped into your consciousness, a sting as bitter as poison. Suffocating the room, his laughter took on a haunting quality, a symphony of evilness. Each note of his amusement revealed the true nature of his depravity, shattering the fragile illusion of triumph you once held.

"Did you really think I'll leave you with a loaded gun?" Then as if to prove how simple-minded you were, he reached into his pocket, extracting the sixth bullet with a perverse flourish. He presented it before you, a diabolical offering that sealed your fate. The weight of that one extra little bullet pressed down upon you, an oppressive force that smothered any remnants of hope.

"Game over," he declared, his voice dripping with finality, each syllable a nail in the coffin of your aspirations. The room contracted around you, a claustrophobic arena that confined you to this sleepless nightmare. "You've got balls."

Your eyes snapped up, your mind working quickly to fit all the pieces together, and he was gaping at you, staring at you in a way that was entirely foreign to you, in a way that said he was utterly, absolutely amazed. You were not sure if he was proud.

But the fact that the gun was empty the whole time was a kick in the gut. No. It was a gun in the cunt.

"It… empty…bullet…" Stuttering, you turned to look at the bed, sheets still wet from your heinous climax, and then yourself, every inch of your body bare to his disgusting gaze.

Fingers coiling like vipers ready to strike, Vash extended his arm, reaching closer to your slumped figure. As his hand reached you, he guided it downward with deliberate precision, his touch a phantom of sweetness. You remained motionless, your body as still as a fragile porcelain doll, your spirit hollowed out by his relentless torment. You offered no resistance, Your limbs heavy with acceptance. It didn't have a meaning anyway. This was his playground, and you were nothing but a worthless pawn.

The room held its breath, like you when you thought his fingers were headed for your hole again, only to find them closing around the gun with an ironclad grip.

He leaned closer to your ear, whispering, "You're far too naïve. I would never take even the slightest risk of losing my favorite toy."

Your eyes got shot closed, your lips pressing on each other as he planted a kiss on your temple and walked out without any more words.

You opened your mouth, and you screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately. Just so you could escape this feeling. No. You wanted that gun loaded with bullets to turn it on yourself.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

Unbeknownst to you, concealed beyond that door,

Lurked a man whose rage echoed, fierce and sore.

His clenched fists, like thunder, struck the wall,

Cracks of anguish appeared, a fractured sprawl.

Hiding behind fake smiles, a mask so sly,

His anger, a tempest, veiled in a lie.

A scarlet torrent, his fury took form,

Dripping blood, a cascade of rage, a storm.

Each drop, a vessel of despair and pain,

A sanguine river, flowing through his veins.

Violence and turmoil, a twisted display,

Beneath the veneer, his demons held sway.

In delicate descent, his anguish displayed,

The ruby tears of fury, his soul unswayed.

A tapestry of emotions, woven in red,

His inner turmoil, from which he bled.

Oh, the secrets held within that hidden space,

Where anger, despair, and violence interlace,

A glimpse into the depths of his tortured soul,

A tragic symphony, the blood's solemn toll.

The poem at the end belongs to me, so please don't use it without permission.

Disclaimer: The gunplay scene is inspired by the books I've read.

Taglist: @julk4e - @lune010 - @beanibon - @emptybrain01 - @changingchances

If you want to be on the tag list, leave a comment.

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Til the Cals Come Home (Mini Series) Chapter IV: Blood

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Chapter Summary

You must work with the other women to plan an escape.  Rating: 18+ Words: 3.5K

Trigger Warnings:  Dead Dove: Don't Eat, Non-Con, Drugging, Lactation, Hucow, Kidnapping, Physical Violence, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Beating, Abuse, Murder

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It’s been a few days since Cal started visiting you nightly, his thick length repeatedly rutting into you. You’re on your hands and knees mewing from the feeling of the vibrator rubbing against your clit. 

Cal’s stubble brushes the shell of your ear. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re squeezing my cock just right, baby.” 

Your eyes roll back, his gravelly voice penetrates your fucked out mind. His tone is low and desperate. “Tell me it feels good, taking my seed.” 

Your moans turn to words. “Cal, yes, it feels so good. I’m yours.” 

He bites down at the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing your walls to clench tight around him, making his motion stutter. “Yeah baby, you are mine. I own you. I’m so lucky, getting to use you whenever I want. You’ll always let me use this cunt, right, baby?” 

You arch your back and meet his thrusts, clenching tight, wanting to feel each inch drag through you. “Yes, Cal.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. I get to use my girls anytime I want.” 

You ignore the implied ownership of his words, focusing instead on the burning pleasure shooting up your spine from the vibrator’s friction on your exposed clit. An orgasm crashes over you, Cal pays no mind, hips snapping to fuck you through it. You cry out, but Cal’s hand slips around your throat, a warning of your noise level at this ungodly hour. 

He allows minimal noise, the roaring ship engines disguising your nightly meetings, but he won’t allow you to wake the girls, tainting the quality of their milk. You bite back the sounds and allow him to fuck you through the first orgasm. He pulls the vibrator away, allowing your recovery, while still railing into your cunt. 

“Once you’re thoroughly fucked, I’ll have to start working on the next baby with Merrin.” 

You pant heavily, attempting to return your breathing to normal, but his forceful thrusts make the goal more difficult. His words register, but your post orgasm haze makes you less concerned. “You will?” 

Cal nibbles on your ear as his hand retreats from your neck to resume its iron grip on your hip. “Of course! Can’t resist the thought of seeing you both bred together, both carrying what’s mine.” 

Your stomach twists, picturing Merrin experiencing another pregnancy and loss. Cal presses the vibrator against your overly sensitive clit, causing your hips to buck and drawing your attention to the present. You whimper and he smirks against your skin before placing little kisses along the damp back of your neck. A fine mist of sweat causing some of your hair to stick. 

Cal brushes it away. “I like seeing my girls swollen because of me. Makes me wish I had more of you to fill.” 

You let out a moan, oddly turned on by how he makes pregnancy sound sexy. “Are you finding more?” 

“I’ve got my sights set on another at the moment. Hoping she’ll arrive after you and Merrin are showing. Then she can see how cute she’ll look when she joins you both.” 

The words don’t sit right; you’ve accepted being used by Cal, but the exploitation of another woman is dreadful. His attention is exciting; he makes you feel special, almost loved. Perhaps it’s not the act of hunting and kidnapping a woman that makes you uneasy, but it’s jealousy. Perhaps you are painfully selfish and like being the newest member of the herd. 

You push back the doubt; you need more information. “Why do you want us all pregnant?” 

Cal grunts. “To repopulate the galaxy with Jedi. Putting your babies in wealthy families guarantees their survival.” 

You don’t speak, and he doesn’t seem to care. Tomorrow, you’ll share the information, but tonight you want to enjoy his touch and the empty promise of his love. 

You angle your hips, recreating the pleasure from before, focusing on the vibrations teasing your sensitive bud. The feeling of Cal’s fingers digging almost painfully into your hip, demonstrating how desperate he is to possess you. His heavy breathing in your ear, grunting at the effort of fucking himself into your stretched hole. Each thrust slaps the head of his cock into your cervix, begging for entrance, for a place to deposit himself. You moan, returning his eagerness to cum. 

The focus on his thrusts allows the orgasm to build again. The rhythmic movements rubbing your aching clit perfectly over the device. Pulsing starts deep inside your body, moving outwards rhythmically so that you drop your head down, riding out each shock-wave of pleasure. 

Cal speaks to your orgasm this time. “Good gir- fuck. Good girl, good girl, good girl.” 

He chants the words in a whisper as he cums, pressed tight against your cervix, spewing forth bits of himself into your body. You feel each pulse of the semen leaving his body, stretching your walls further to accommodate the additional substance. 

Cal’s arm wraps tight around your waist as he finishes, ensuring your compliance in accepting every drop of him. You whine, the grip pressing on the bruises from days before. He does not relent until he has recovered, releasing you, shutting off the vibrator, dressing, and exiting your stall without another word. 

You collapse into the soft hay, allowing the exhaustion from the orgasm to bless you with a restful sleep. 

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Morning arrives, bringing a wave of shame that washes over you until pasture time. The enjoyment of Cal’s attention making you feel slimy; an invisible betrayal of the pain he has caused the other women. 

Pasture time arrives, and after mulling over what to say to Cere and Merrin, you are eager to speak with them. All is quiet, finding comfortable spots to rest in the soft grass while Cal lingers. He speaks with Merrin, a hand on her back while she resists slapping it away. 

You don’t dare look at them for too long, or move towards the open gate. Instead, moving towards the back of the pasture, laying within spitting distance of Cere. 

Cal finally leaves after whispering something to Merrin, her twisted expression telling you the nature of his words. The sound of the engines keeps a comfortable level of noise, only partly easing your anxieties. Merrin approaches, avoiding eye contact, clearly still lost in her thoughts over Cal’s threat. 

You shatter the silence. “You were right. He’s been trying to breed me for a few days now.” 

Merrin’s eyes snap to yours, rage brewing. Her muscles stay tense as she sits, as though sitting near you will somehow put her in danger. 

Cere lays back, watching the heat lamps high above. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell us sooner.” 

You bow your head. “I was ashamed for letting him do it.” 

She props on her elbows. “You didn’t let him do anything. Resisting would have earned you another beating.” 

You risk a nervous glance at Merrin. “You’re probably right. He told me some things last night that I think you should know.” 

“Heavens, it’s never good news with Cal.” 

“No, it’s not. He said that once I’m pregnant, he’s going to breed Merrin again.” 

Merrin’s taut muscles react, propelling her to her hands and knees. “No! He can’t do this again!” 

You match the pain on her face, wishing to hug her, to ease that fear. “I don’t want him to do that to you again, either. Maybe it’s time to fight back.” 

Cere lies back into the plush grass. “That won’t end well.” 

“Neither will our current situation.” 

Merrin’s expression hardens. “I’ll fight! I won’t let him do this again.” 

You acknowledge her before turning your attention to Cere. “There’s more…he is preparing to kidnap another woman once we’re both bred and breed her soon after. He said he’s trying to repopulate the Jedi, ensuring the baby’s survival by selling them to wealthy families.” 

Cere closes her eyes. Her expression neutralizing, but one crease between her brows gives away her true feelings. She speaks, saying aloud the obvious. “If he succeeds, that will be three more babies sold.” 

You feel frantic as you speak. “I don’t want to allow him to win, even at the expense of the Jedi not returning.” 

Cere’s tone is calm. “His plight to save the Jedi is undermined by his greed. I see no nobility in his efforts. It’s likely he is lying about those intentions.” 

Merrin chimes in. “I want to fight back, whatever the cost!” 

You look between the women in agreement. “I do as well.” 

“Then I am with you both.” 

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To your surprise, Greez delivers each typical meal with one notable difference: the meal tray has two tin cups instead of one. He gives you a knowing look, alerting that Cere has informed him of the plan. Part of you worries he will be the plan’s downfall, but his adjusted delivery reassures his loyalty. 

You gulp down the cup of water, grateful hydration will be available during this trying week. Cere tried to convince you to not partake in the plan, stating that your lack of connection to the Force protects you from suffering alongside them. But you will not let them suffer alone when you are the plan’s creator. You want to face the same trials as them; it solidifies your connection. Only the trials aren’t exactly the same, because each night, after dumping the cup of milk into the drain at the stall’s rear, Cal comes to you. 

The first night isn’t difficult, a repetition of your breeding routine. But by night two, frustration consumes you for having consumed nothing. His fingers irritatingly dig into your hips, rocking you sick while he unloads himself into you. 

The girls are equally miserable, laying close together in the grass during pasture time. It’s a dual purpose of conserving energy and keeping warm. The pain of freezing from a lack of regular nutrition is a surprising development that your naked bodies struggle against. The heat lamps help, but each consecutive day they lack the same warmth as the prior day. You’d gladly sleep on the surface of the sun to stop the incessant shivering. 

The tremble in your body worsens at night, when Cal fucks you eagerly from behind and your muscles shake in an effort to stay upright. The starvation in your body eliminates most of your conscious presence during each carnal visit. Evenings you used to enjoy have become a blur of aggressive physical movement and are barely pleasurable. 

It’s the last night of this hell, and it’s your job to perform despite a painful lack of food this last week. You put on your best act, though you can’t be sure it’s convincing. Telling Cal how grateful you are for his presence, not entirely a lie, since his body warms you temporarily in the dead of night. 

Cal smirks against your skin before speaking. “Tomorrow I’m going to milk you with the rest of the herd. I’m glad to see you’re getting along.” 

You stutter over your words as he pounds into your weak body. “Thank you Cal. I have a request.” 

His fingers bruise your hipbones. “A request?” 

You whine. “Yes, it’s gross, but it’s important to me.” 

He lets out a short laugh. “It’s gross? What do you mean?” 

“It’s just- I’ve really enjoyed all the special time you’ve given me since I’ve been here. I know we are getting close to the end of your nightly visits and I-” 

He cuts in. “You’re going to miss me?” 

You only nod, grateful to not have to say the cursed words. 

His pace picks up, his voice low. “Baby, I’ll breed you again in the future.” 

“I know, but it’ll be a long time and you’ll have a new girl and I just want the other girls to see that you like me…” 

He hesitates on the pullout, tip being hugged by your entrance. “You want them to see?” 

You wiggle your hips, asking for his return. “Yes, Cal, I want them to see what my body does to you.” 

He pulls you back onto his length, and you fight to not collapse against him. “Baby, that is quite a dirty thought.” 

“Please? Just one time? Maybe you can do it with all of us on the last day you breed us? It’d be fun to watch while we get off during our milking. Bet it makes all our milk extra sweet that day.” 

He fucks you slow, his thoughts elsewhere while he pleasures himself on your body. “I had no idea you were so adventurous. I suppose that would be good for everyone. I’ll consider it.” 

A wicked smile creeps over your face, but your tone stays sweet and innocent. “Thank you Cal, I love you.” 

Cal groans at your words, cumming unexpectedly at the stroke of his ego. He places a few kisses on the back of your head and neck as his heart pounds against your spine. You soak in the last joyous moments of his warmth before he pulls off and out, leaving you to collapse into the hay for one last night of hell. 

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You wake, surprised to find Greez outside your stall before your milking time. He says nothing, a sheepish look on his face. One of his hands reaching between the bars, fist closed, offering you something. You stumble towards him, opening your palm to accept the gift. 

He drops it into your hand and moves on to Cere and Merrin’s stalls before running off towards where he should be. You look over at the girls as they both consume the offering, chewing quickly in case Cal returns. You do the same, shoving the small piece of bread into your mouth and swallowing. It almost seems to make your stomach angrier, but there is relief in the food. Strength that will carry you through this final milking. 

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Cal arrives shortly after, taking Cere and Merrin to the milking room first. As promised, he returns to you, no rope in his hands. You realize he believes you are loyal to him, and choose to keep the illusion. Following him into the milking room, your stomach grumbling loudly, as it digests the morsel of food. 

It’s odd crawling into the milking room and seeing Cere and Merrin already attached to the milking machine. Part of you feels wrong for seeing them in this way, but they are about to see you in a much worse way. They are both leaned forward slightly, obviously keeping themselves away from the vibrators set up behind them. 

You wonder how often they accept the pleasure. The thought of orgasming alongside friends makes you cringe. Cal hooks you up: cleaning your nipples before placing the suction tubing on your breasts. He moves to the far side of the room, retrieving your assigned supply bucket. 

You lock eyes with the girls, giving them a nod, signaling that the plan is in motion after your conversation with Cal last night. They nod back, eyes then flicking to one another, checking in. 

Cal returns to you and you meet his eyes, against the rules, giving him your best begging expression. He doesn’t seem to mind the rule break, lips curling at your silent request. 

He kneels down behind you, unbuckling his pants. “Shall we give them a show?” 

Cere immediately looks away, but Merrin’s eyes widen before averting her gaze. You coo, sweet and submissive. “Yes, please. Show them how much I mean to you.” 

Your body is ready, now accustomed to what happens in this room. Cal releases himself, his pants sliding down, trapping his thighs, and he pushes into your heat. You don’t dare make a sound, painfully uncomfortable by the eyes now watching this lewd act. 

Your heart leaps at how close the plan is to completion, how close freedom is. The suffering is almost over. You’ll go home and apologize to Allory, take back your old life. 

Cal falls against your back, lost in his own pleasure, drunk on the power of breeding you in front of his other conquests. You can’t see his face, but you know the moment his eyes close by the movement of the women across from you. They silently unhook themselves from the milker, climbing carefully to their feet. They are unsteady, but they’ve spent this week practicing with their reclaimed legs. 

Your heart stops. No longer sure if this is the outcome you want, instantly rethinking the entire plan. He has been good to you most of the time. It was your fault when he wasn’t. 

Cal’s thrusts become sloppy, indicating his end, the end, is near. You feel frantic. Part of you wants to warn him. Cere steps near, holding an outstretched hand. You know what she’s about to do. 

You want it to stop. Cal doesn’t deserve to die for falling to the dark side. He can change. 

He thrusts a last time, releasing himself deep inside you. His lightsaber flies from his undone pants to Cere’s hand. Green light surrounds Merrin, her hands raised and poised to fight. 

Cal’s eyes snap open. He pulls out of you, reaching for his pants to cover himself. Upon seeing the threat, he abandons the effort. Instead, wrapping his fingers tight around your throat, hoisting you backwards to shield his body, the suction tubes disconnect. 

He disguises his fear with anger. “What are you doing?” 

Merrin speaks, her words dripping with poison. “It is over for you, Cal Kestis! You are an evil man, and I will not allow you to pollute the galaxy with your hate.” 

He squeezes tight and you try to pry his fingers off your neck; gasping for air. He won’t actually kill you, since this is to protect himself. He loves you. He- 

Blackness dots the edges of your vision as he tightens his grip. You can feel his anger, his rage, his hate. Every memory of how he has betrayed you, been unfair to you, used you, comes flooding back. As consciousness slips away, you remind yourself of one final thought: he is a monster. 

“Oh, please Merrin! You’re being dramatic! I will make you pay for this insubordination. You won’t like the way I-” 

Cere tosses the lightsaber to Merrin. Cal releases your throat to pull the saber back to himself, but Merrin is faster. She wields the deadly weapon, casting the room in an unnatural orange light. Cere extends a hand towards Cal and he doesn’t move as she pulls you away from his grasp. 

You are sputtering, trying to remember how to breathe, but you look at Merrin’s face. She looks conflicted, tears welling in her eyes. You know what she is thinking: she thinks he could change. You wonder if this is the end, if you have lost the battle, if she will strike. 

Suddenly, her expression hardens, and she swings the blade in an arc, removing his head from his shoulders. His body collapses in a pile in your milking spot as the head hits the ground with a sickening thud. You all watch as blood pools around the detached dome from where the temple smashed into the floor. 

There is a long silence, and you know it’s time for you to do your part. You climb shakily to your feet with Cere’s help and move to Merrin. Pulling her into an embrace. At first, she is stiff, but she softens, her forehead resting on your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your naked body. Cere’s arms embrace you both, her head on Merrin’s back. 

You aren’t sure who cried first, but there is a sniff, a shudder, a ragged inhale. Tears stream down all your faces, leaving wet paths on one another’s skin as it drips. No words are needed, you all feel it, an insecurity. Worry that the wrong decision was made, fear that there may have been another path. 

Your legs burn, but no one dares to fall to the ground. You have all spent too much time there. 

The tears subside, and the hug breaks, looking first at one another, then at Cal’s decapitated body, now outlined in the seeping red blood. Cere turns off the milking machine and you all head towards the exit. 

Greez waits at the door, a stack of clothes in his arms. You dress as quick as your body will allow, and head towards the ladder at the back of the ship. Desperate to escape this lower level and never return. 

As you walk away, you hear Cere explaining to Greez what happened. You wrap your hand around the ladder rung, shakily stepping onto the bottom rung. You look back to see a clothed Cere embracing Greez, both crying. Merrin joins you at the ladder, offering her hands to spot your climb. You offer her a half smile and ascend; she follows once you are safe; you reach down, ready to grab her if she falls. 

Everyone makes it safely up. Your mind floods with memories of the first night when you see the upper part of the ship again. You want to destroy everything that reminds you of him. Merrin and Cere move towards the cockpit. 

Merrin looks to Cere. “Now what?” 

You answer, sure of your decision. “Now we go find your baby, Merrin.” 

Cere smiles, it’s beautiful. “I love that plan. I was thinking we may also want to take down this milking industry from the inside. If you’re both up for the fight.” 

Merrin’s eyes fill with tears, but they look different from the ones before. They look how you feel, hopeful.

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Need to Rant with Others Who Have Read This Story?

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[shopwitchvamp]

Ok, so who all wants to see some ancient designs?? Thought this might be fun since there's so many new people around lately, and even the not-so-new people may not know about these! Here's the first 3 skaters I ever made, back when I was still Syppah's Cute Creations mainly doing amigurumi crochet:

Creepy Eyes is a true OG that's been around since about July 2015! It isn't very popular on skaters or joggers since I stopped doing cons, but it's still going strong as midis and maxis. I've also used the pattern on eyeglass cloths, face masks, scrunchies, tights, zipper bags, and more. I don't think I'll ever fully retire it, haha. The other two up there are Rainbow Narwhals and Cute Eyes (original light pink version below, got the hot pink version above as a misprint afterwards).

The next ones I got that no longer exist were Rainbow Candy, Double Rainbow Candy, and Happy Bees:

tiny prehistoric pics because i can only find them in my old old etsy's sales history, haha As you can see, besides Creepy Eyes the vibes were incredibly different. I wanted to make clothing that could go alongside my ˜”*°•.★·.·´¯`·.·★𝓀𝒶𝓌𝒶𝒾𝒾 𝒶𝓂𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇𝓊𝓂𝒾 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓈★·.·´¯`·.·★.•°*”˜ even though my personal style and fashion interests were/are much more goth. That leaked through again with the Guro Guts skirt next.

The first ever Guro Guts skirt was made just in time for Halloween 2015 In 2016, plushies were still my main focus and for a number of health reasons I was essentially dead that whole year. I don't think I added any new skirts at all..

The next big addition to my skirts was in April 2017 with this set:

Demon Summoning and Vampire Night have survived until this day. Good Medicine on the top left was only made in this colorway for a short time before I switched to a purple & pink version that I also kawaii'd up. Vaporwave and Angel Summoning are both pretty much defunct as of 2021.

2017 Blue/Red Good Medicine, 2018(2019?) Purple/Pink Good Medicine. Both are discontinued

In late 2017, I separated out my clothing shop from my crochet shop and started going all-in on a more goth leaning aesthetic. Witch Vamp (originally "Witch Vampire") was truly born. A lot of designs from that time are ones you'll still recognize today

The only other one that's pretty much gone these days is Rainbow Galaxy. I used to have it in skaters and joggers, but it's another one that wasn't as popular online as it was at cons. They're also like A Lot especially for my generally goth-ish shop

Rainbow Galaxy Skater (designed in 2017), Rainbow Galaxy Joggers (2018 or 2019.. unsure, haha) I last ran preorders with Rainbow Galaxy in 2021, but I don't think I got many orders. I've just let them fizzle out since then. But the skirt semi-lives on in the glorious mistake that is the Bomb Pop Skater

Originally I had 3 of these because a few Rainbow Galaxy Skaters got printed without any yellow. But like, what a good mistake! Since then I've ordered them this way on purpose. EDIT: Another discontinued skirt was the Black Widow's Web. Idk even when I made it first. 2018? But it died in 2021.

Next casualties, between 2020-2022 I discontinued a few more joggers due to slow sales:

Astrology Joggers, Creepy Eyes Joggers, Dark Galaxy Joggers (actually the 2nd version. V1 was a bit too.... phallic with the goo drips lmao) So after that, I think the main casualties have been *item types* rather than designs. I've dropped a lot of things (lanyards, zipper bags, wallets, all-over-print tshirts, tights, pvc charm keychains, and soon enamel pins) because they were great for cons, but don't really sell online. Or because they became obsolete (skirts w/out pockets).

It's been a long journey! And if you go all the way back to my crocheting days, I've been at this whole "self-employed" thing since the day I turned 18 in 2008 and was able to open up an Etsy shop (had other jobs too back then tho, like I was a pharmacy tech for 2 1/2 years). Hope you all enjoy seeing these designs from the old days and learning more Witch Vamp lore!!!

[v-albion]

Risetober day 19: Scary Movie

Donnie. verb [c] /dɑːni/ n. Definition: (1) to be used. (2) to use. (3) to be…

Leo. noun [c] /lɛo/ n. Definition: (1) A [leader] dangerous enough to control a multitude of situations simultaneously. (2) A dum-dum, so dense, light should bend around him. (3) Twin. [Mine.]

Scary Movie cause it sure felt like watching one while reading The Lemonade Leak by @turtleinsoup.

You won’t believe how many times I forgot breathing because it was so good. Terrifying psychological horror with god tier writing and the character voice is just *chefs kiss*

Masterpost

Prev | Day 18: Galaxy Con

Next | Day 20: Mutant

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

Risetober 2023 Masterpost

Collection of drawings done for Risetober (2023).

Day 1: Stars

Day 2/5: Masks + Future

Day 3: Pumpkin

Day 4: Amulet

Day 6/16: Baron Draxum + Magic

Day 7/11: Mummy + Jumpscare

Day 8: Green

Day 9: Cat (+ photo of cat)

Day 10/18: Red Fox + Galaxy Con

Day 12: Video Game

Day 13/21: Witch + Ghost

Day 14/19: Pizza + Scary Movie

Day 15: Battle Nexus

Day 17: Zombie

Day 20/23: Mutant + Oozesquitoes

Day 22: Portal Chopped

Day 24: Meat Sweats

Day 25: Vampire

Day 26: Frankenfoot

Day 27: Spider

Day 28: Bilingual

Day 29/30: Shredder/Karai

Day 31: Trick or Treat!

[lackablazeical]

ADDAMS! AU RISETOBER 2023 CHALLENGE -

This was a challenge that I attempted in October of 2023, using a prompt list created by @/sariphantom. Each prompt was posted daily.

Day 1 - Stars

Day 2 - Masks

Day 3 - Pumpkin

Day 4 - Amulet

Day 5 - Future

Day 6 - Baron Draxum

Day 7 - Mummy

Day 8 - Green

Day 9 - Cat

Day 10 - Red Fox

Day 11 - Jumpscare

Day 12 - Video Games

Day 13 - Witch

Day 14 - Pizza (removed)

Day 15 - Battle Nexus

Day 16 - Magic

Day 17 - Zombie

Day 18 - Galaxy Con

Day 19 - Scary Movie

Day 20 - Mutant

Day 21 - Ghost

Day 22 - Portal Chopped

Day 23 - Oozequitos

Day 24 - Meatsweats

Day 25 - Vampire

Day 26 - Frankenfoot

Day 27 - Spider

Day 28 - Bilingual

Day 29 - Shredder

Day 30 - Karai

Day 31 - Trick-Or-Treat!

[rallentando1011]

Risetober 2023: Day 18 - Galaxy Con

Conventions: a staple of metropolises, celebrating unique demographics and groups. One such event being Galaxy Con, a frequent gathering of fans of all kinds who enjoyed intergalactic-oriented media.

Although it was quite the popular attraction, bringing in crowds of fans of movies, video games, and comics, the biggest fans of Galaxy Con had to be the Hamato brothers.

They frequented the center where it took place more than any other person, mutant, or yōkai they could think of. In fact, they attended more Galaxy Cons than Marcus Moncrief, one of the most coveted, in the turtle brothers’ opinion, panelists at the convention. They hardly missed any, no matter the events going on in a given day.

That was not including the time Donnie became so enraptured by an evil video game that he missed the convention, got tricked into controlling a mech suit, and almost destroyed the city and his brothers.

It was not very fun.

Despite Raph, Leo, and Mikey buying an action figure for Donnie, Raph still felt bad that his younger brother missed out on an experience.

So, on the day of the next convention, the alligator snapping turtle ran into Donnie’s room to wake him up.

The tech genius spoke incoherently at first, grumbles of confusion and annoyance. But once Raph explained that he wanted to hang out with him, only him on some sort of make-up brotherly time, he was absolutely on board. Someone specifically wanted to spend time with just him with no obligation? Heck yeah.

And so, sporting their turtle alien costumes, the two brothers spent the day exploring each exhibit, checking out overly expensive yet totally wicked collectibles, and irresponsibly buying the aforementioned pricey collectibles.

(@sariphantom)

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

05/17-18/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Nathan Foad; Kristian Nairn; SaveOFMD Crew; Int'l Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, Intersexphobia, Biphobia; Uproar; Fan Spotlight; Mermay; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

Hey crew, sorry yesterday and today have been busy ones for me, so we're doing a joint day again. Hope you're all doing well the beginning of this weekend!

== Rhys Darby ==

Rhys just getting to be his goofy self, which we love so much.

Source: Rhys Darby's Tiktok

== Nathan Foad ==

Nathan out for a boat ride with his co-stars of Love's Labours Lost. They had their last showing recently, and there are lots of dedications out there to Nathan and this wonderful cast! Gratz Nathan! Can't wait to see what you do next!

Source: Nathan Foad's IG Story Wow Nathan's been busy!! Greta Gerwig will be available on Vimeo on May 31st!

Source: Marybeth Barone's Instagram ALSO I've been meaning to post this for days, but I'm finally getting around to it. Have you seen the ADHD Short Film Nathan was in?

Source: Nathan Foad's IG Stories Days ago

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian's joined the list! Kristian, Con, Nathan, and Vico will all be at Galaxy Con in Raleigh NC July 25-28, 2024! Ticket here.

Source: Kristian Nairn's IG

The latest episode of Kristian's podcast Spektrum is OUT NOW! You can find links to listen on his Linktree!

Source: Kristian Nairn's IG

== Rosy Maple Moth Pie ==

Hey lovelies! Did you miss out on Samba's baking class? Good news! You can access it now on the Momentus website! You can also access the recipes here.

== Int'l Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, Intersexphobia, Biphobia ==

Our dear friends over at These Thems posted a tribute to Int'l Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, Intersexphobia, Biphobia. It was yesterday-- sorry for the delay. To learn more about this day, you can visit UNFPA

Source: These Thems Instagram

== Save OFMD Crew ==

Pride month is approaching and Save OFMD Crewmates would love your feedback on how you'd like to help show Max, other streamers, the media, and the world that we NeverLeft! Fill out their survey here.

Source: Save OFMD Crewmates Tumblr

== Uproar ==

Still havent gotten to see Uproar? It's available on Amazon to Rent and Buy! Uproar on Amazon

Source: Blue Fox Entertainment's IG Stories

== Articles ==

So I thought I posted this back on the 16th with the trends but I guess not! So here's that article, you all have probably already seen it, but if not here you are:

‘Our Flag Means Death’ fans launch #DontStreamOnMax campaign, want David Zaslav fired

Robert Reich: How To Make $50 Million A Year While Your Corporation Goes Down The Tubes – OpEd

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Today's Cast Card is for the brilliant composer Mark Mothersbaugh! Thank you @melvisik and to the tumblr requester for including this fantastic guys work!

= OFMD Colouring Pages =

More colouring pages from @patchworkpiratebear. I feel like we need a bound book once these are complete. There's just so many fun ones.

Source: Patchwork Pirate Bear's Tumblr

= MerMay =

Can I just say that I am loving seeing how everyone's Art has developed over the past month? It's really cool to see slight changes in style/included details! You all are just so dang talented! <3

= SpencerDoesArt =

More catch up mermay prompts from our darilng crewmate SpencerDoesArtt over on Instagram, they've got some really cool stuff please check them out if you have an IG!

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= Snejpowa =

@snejpowa Love you have been just stepping it up with all these gorgeous Mermay prompts. Calypso is stunning~~

Day 17: Have you ever been sketched? / Day 18: Calypso's Birthday

= ErosTheArtist =

More prompts from @erostheartist - I am loving the colour contrast on these, they're so pretty <3 Day 13: Roads to Moscow Day 16: Kraken

= Blueberreads =

Eeeeee I didn't know I needed little pixel Ed drawings, but now that I have them I love them so much. I went them as stickers for my water bottle or something. Look at the little Ed-Gull. I'm dying @blueberreads these are so adorable.

Day 17: Have you ever been sketched? / Day 18: Calypso's Birthday

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies <3 I hope you're having a wonderful start to your weekend (or mid weekend, wherever you are).

Tonight I'd like you to take a few moments to repeat after me, okay? It won't take long.

"I am beautiful"

"I am kind"

"I am loving"

"I am worthy"

"I am a force to be reckoned with"

"I deserve rest"

"I deserve love"

"I am enough"

You are all those things. It's easy to forget sometimes how hard we work and how far we've come. You are so many wonderful things lovelies. Remember to tell yourself that once in a while. You deserve recognition from others, but also from yourself. You are so brilliant, and you continue to surprise and delight us all every day. Rest well <3 A few more love notes from some lovely folks on instagram, feel free to visit them below :)

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A post shared by Darra ✨ Baltimore Artist & Branding Design (@deardarlingdesignstudio)

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== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is just goofy headwear I guess. Now we know how Rhys keeps his hair so silky smooth.

Gifs Courtesy of some of the most darling folks: @fandomsmeantheworldtome and @meluli