#I´d like to report a murder

[liltaz-asatreat]

oooh 1 and 11 for the horror fic with Lup and Taako ! :3

Ooh!! I never get to talk about this one :3 I worked really hard on it too, and not a lot of people saw it so I'm just gonna sliiiiide a link right here <3

Also, anyone can send in a question about a fic from these questions here or just other questions in general! I like talking about my fics and never know how to shut up lol

What inspired you to write the fic this way?

So this was back when I first started getting back into writing and had virtually no following of anyone who consistently read my stuff or sent me prompts. Actually, I think at the time of writing it, I may have not even reblogged a prompt list yet. It's hard to say because this was obviously before I got an ao3 account, and when I tried to upload all of the fics I had written by the time I did get an account, somehow the publish date on some of them got mixed up and was set for the day after I actually published them?? And I didn't know how to fix it, so I no longer know the order in which I wrote everything. That's neither here nor there though. Point is, I used a prompt from a pdf of a prompt book I got in an online writing bundle called Roll-A-Prompt Writing Journal Box Set, box set meaning that it had prompts for horror, sci-fi, and fantasy. I used that book a lot in the beginning because it's a really fun book to use the few times I used it. Basically you pick a set of prompts from any of the three genres, and the prompts are ordered in three different aspects of the prompt (in this case, it was character, mood, and word, but there are other options depending on the prompt set you choose), and each aspect has a list of six options. Then you roll a d6 for each aspect, and you generate a prompt by combining the three different options you rolled. Like the monster factory from Wonderland! lol Only, I took it up a level and rolled a d4 to determine what genre I was going to do (usually I use it as a d2 to pick between sci-fi and fantasy), and then I roll a d100 to pick what prompt set I use because there's thirty prompt sets in each genre. I just used this roll as leaving it as is if it landed on 1-30, then if it was 31-60, I would just subtract 30, and if it was 61-90, I would subtract 60, and if it was 91-100, I would just reroll. Then I count that many numbers down starting from the top of the chapter until I got to the right prompt set.

If anyone is interested, I could share it! It is a pdf though, so I think I'd have to send it through email because I don't think that's something I can just share elsewhere.

Anyway, I felt like throwing in a little extra, why not? that day when I decided to roll up another prompt and added horror as an option to my d4 roll, and I ended up getting that, so that's what I went with lol I am definitely not a horror person though and know very little about the genre, and I'm unwilling to do anything too gory or gross. The most I can handle with horror is creepy and abstract concepts of other horrific events, and the top thing that came to mind that day that I thought I could pull off was someone torturing students to bring back an old dead god. So I looked up wheel torture methods because I couldn't remember exactly what the torture device I had in mind was called or did, it was the wheel thing that like, you get tied to on the side and it's supposed to stretch your body apart? Idk, it's the torture method that always stuck out most to me besides quartering, and there was no way in hell I was writing that. I get uncomfortable even rolling that idea in my head and have to try really hard to not picture it every time I remember it exists. Anyway, so I looked up wheel torture methods, and the only thing I could find was the wheel that is called a female name that starts with a c then wheel? Cathie's wheel? Cassandra's wheel? idk I don't want to look it up. Last time I looked it up (to write this fic), I literally gave myself nightmares, and I already watched a fucked up movie today. It's past 11pm and I have to be somewhere at 1pm tomorrow, so I have to go to bed soon, but the grossest part of the movie I watched is still playing in my head and aaaahhhhh

So yeah, that's why I went with a hopefully more creepy vibe for most of it (also to build up tension), and I used physical descriptors of the dead bodies in the wheels very sparingly. Probably not the most immersive experience, but hey, I'm not a horror writer usually lol

Anyway, so I needed characters to be in this scenario, and I thought doing a sibling bonding moment would be cool, and it definitely seemed like the kind of weird shit that would happen in Taako and Lup's lives pre-stolen century. Also, it gave me an excuse to end the story with Taako saying he'd always find Lup >:3

I was really proud of how it turned out when I wrote it, and I suppose I'm still proud of it because it's something I wouldn't normally do, and I do feel like it's okay. But I can definitely tell I grew in my writing capabilities since then, and honestly, the twin interactions after Lup gets kidnapped is so cringey lol 🤦🏽‍♂️ I was so worried about trying to make sure that I didn't portray either of them as weak or like a damsel in distress, especially Lup, that I didn't just let her need to be saved. I wanted to show that I still think of her as a badass who can take care of herself, especially because I was really worried about the weak woman trope or whatever, that I didn't let her just need help. I honestly thought about switching the roles, but Lup just seemed like the one to pick up on something being wrong first while Taako got distracted by how hot the professor was than it being the other way around, and of course the person who picks up on it first has to get kidnapped lol

Anyway, I've rambled on about that long enough sldgkhsldaghd

11. What do you like best about this fic?

Honestly, the part where Taako gets hit with Phantasmal Killer. It was interesting figuring out what exactly would be his number one nightmare that Keth could conjure up, and between having an inconsistent childhood where either the twins left places for their own safety or people left them and them only having each other, having Lup being the one to yell at him, blame him for fucking up a great opportunity, and then leaving him would probably be something major psychic damage worthy lol I also really like how I wrote that confrontation in his mind in general, though I feel like I could do it way better now

It's just a perfect way to spin the situation on its head you see, and fuck the both of them up just a little bit <3

[noctude]

fine. fine. fine. here it is. DON’T watch this

mp3 download / youtube go nuts my friends.

also if you like this but you also hate it why dont you umm check out my real music i have a new instrumental album coming out soon :D

[video description under cut, written by @starberry-skies​]

[Video Description: A parody of the song "No Children" by The Mountain Goats, from the perspective of an Among Us imposter. The video begins with the title "No Amongus Babys" as synth music begins to play. The video show various Among Us screenshots and lyrics with typos and emoticons. The lyrics are:

"I hope that our small surviving crew Gives up on trying to catch us. I hope we come up with a failsafe plot to throw off all the proof they attached us. I hope the wires we mended Start an electrical fire! And I hope we disable the light fixture, I hope the impact is dire. And I hope the reactor a few rooms from here Someday blows up; And I hope that the broken airlock funnels me into space, And I never come back to this ship again!

In my life I hope I lie, And tell everyone you were a crewmate. And I hope you’re sus… I hope we’re both sus."

[Music break, and as the words “lalalallalalallla yayyy” sparkle on screen]

"I hope I murder a witness tomorrow, I hope they bleed all day long. Our crew says there's no one to trust but ourselves, We know too well they’re not wrong! I hope we sabotage quickly, I hope the tasks aren’t over, I hope you vent before I do, I hope we never get voted. And I hope when you vouch for me days down the line… You can’t find one true thing to say. And I hope that if I kill and I self-report, You’d let me just dig my own grave.

I’m in medbay… I am faking a task. You are coming down with me, Scan in unloveable scan. And I hope you’re sus I hope we’re both sus!"

The lyrics end, with the glittery text "i love among us". The rest of the text flashes in with cheesy effects, which read: "i'm noctude this one goes out to kal cabbagegunk he gets prophecies when feverish about among us its normal". End VD]

[luminiamore]

FATAL ATTRACTION.

ghostface armin arlert x black witch reader

warnings: minnie is psycho & stalker ish, murder (not reader), possessive, mention of branding, minnie has a big d!ck!

a/n: i just wanna say that scenario is crazy, but it’s armin!!!

masterlist

New York City, renowned as the place where dreams come true, the city that never sleeps, but also, unfortunately, the city where danger lurks. Recent events have shaken the East Side with a series of gruesome murders, each marked by the presence of a Ghostface mask. Residents, be vigilant: lock your doors, stay armed, and avoid deserted alleyways. Let’s unite to ensure the safety of our beloved city.

Armin remained indifferent as he listened to the static emanating from the car radio, his expression unmoved. Tsk. As if that would save them. On that dark night, a vast moon cast its glow across the sky. A faint swoosh of cold water could be heard from the harbor directly beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. The cream-colored 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air he had stolen roughly 20 minutes earlier emitted a creaking sound before finally coming to a stop.

He forcefully shut the fragile car door before moving deliberately to the other side. With swift motion, he dragged the unconscious, thin man, securely bound in the passenger seat, onto the freshly laid cement pavement. Two sharp punches to the face jolted the man awake.

“Damn it!” The man grimaced, holding his now bloody nose. “Listen, I’ve got about a grand in my wallet. Just take it! Please, I haven’t done anything!” Armin listened to the desperate pleas, his oceanic eyes rolling in irritation. He contemplated shutting the man up with another punch. With a sigh, he grabbed him by the collar and dragged him towards the edge of the dock.

“D’you want to know why you’re here?” Armin coolly asks, unfazed by the tears the man started dropping. His patience was wearing thin; just looking at his face made him itch to kill him.

“N-no! Please, I just started college! I have-” Armin lands another punch on his jaw, a resounding crack at his sheer force echoing across the empty dock. The man groans as his eyes twitch slowly, open and close. Armin crouches down, bringing himself to eye level with the man on the ground, his gaze fixed on the screwed-up, bloodied, frowned face.

“Does the name Y/n L/n ring a bell to you? You wouldn’t like the outcome if you lie, so try not to.” He asks yet another question with a flat face. The man looks up with a shaky breath; in fact, his entire body is shaking. He nods, trembling.

Armin gives a hum, “I thought it did. Do you remember the interaction with her just yesterday?” He calmly tuts, tilting the man’s semi-dislocated jaw as if examining him.

“L-Listen-” The man gets cut off again with a forceful grip on the same jaw. He cries out at the pain.

“Think about your next words, Porco.” His voice deepens by an octave, and Armin’s demeanor is noticeably less composed this time, his anger slipping beyond his control.

“I was high out of my mind, man! I don’t- I don’t remember anything!” The dirty blonde-haired man sobs. He was petrified for his life. Tonight, Armin wasn’t even adopting his other persona, Ghostface; he was acting solely as himself. He didn’t want the police to suspect —what could he even call her?

The woman he stalks every day? The woman he kills for?The woman who causes him to beat his dick red every night at just her aroma? The woman he craved incessantly, day in and day out? The woman he’s in love with? 

“No? That’s okay, I’d love to refresh your memory.” The moment Porco gazes up in desperation, his breath catches at the sight of a knife—the same knife he had seen on TV after the news reporter detailed yet another gruesome murder by the man in a ghost mask. Am I about to die? That same thought again and again was at the forefront of his mind; it was a broken record.

“You approached her pretty arrogantly, might I add. You tried to take her home, but naturally, she denied. You got upset,” Armin drags the knife slowly against the blue vein on his neck. Lightly grazing, barely applying any pressure to make a mark. He draws closer to the petrified man.

“You touched her.” He seethes. “But my girl is strong and pretty special, too. So, she handled you. I’m sure you remember that, there’s the bruise right here to prove it.” He applies pressure with the tip of the knife to a purple bruise on the left side of his throat. A slow trickle of blood falls down the inside of Porco’s shirt. 

“S-She already made me apologize, man. I don’t k-know how many times I can say sorry-” The sound of gurgling pierced the stillness. Armin, tired of listening, drove the infamous Bowie Knife into the man’s neck, then glanced to the side. 

The man feebly tried to grab Armin’s arm; he was nowhere near stronger, though, and once Armin twisted the knife, the struggle abruptly stopped. He pushed the knife deeper. Porco, too deeply penetrated, fell limp on the ground.

Armin paused, taking out his phone to check the time. ‘10:47’ Shit. It was almost time to check on his girl. He still had one more kill left before he saw her again tonight. He swiftly pulled out the knife from the dead man’s neck and kicked him right into the freezing water below. This was one kill he didn’t want Ghostface to be responsible for.

This next kill, though, he did. He strolled over to the classic car, retrieved the black hood and cloak with jagged edges, and draped it over himself. The ghost mask rested on the leather seats, its eyes fixed on him under the moonlight. With a slight smirk on his pink lips, he picked it up and disappeared into the night.

Quite to the contrary, New York wasn’t your birthplace. Your parents were esteemed practitioners of witchcraft in Cap Haitian, Haiti, renowned for their formidable abilities throughout the country. However, their prominence also drew numerous adversaries. When you were born, they resolved to shield you from the harsh realities of their world and allow you a childhood free from the burdens of survival. Thus, they made the decision to move to the mystical city of New Orleans.

There, they taught you their practices. Every day was dedicated to honing your powers, relentlessly training until you surpassed both of them following their passing. Despite possessing the ability to prolong their lives, your parents chose to embrace their human existence and concluded that their time on Earth had reached its fulfillment.

The pain was too bearing for you, and so you decided to move to The Big Apple. Impulsive decision on your part, really; you just wanted to get away. But your life in New York proved to be incredibly peaceful, your only concerns being your powers and the three cats you lived with. 

It started off being peaceful, but your beauty unfortunately came with repercussions, too. With senses finely attuned, you remained acutely aware of your surroundings, quickly detecting a figure shadowing your every move. At first, you believed he was stalking you with intentions of abduction, and though you suspected he was a killer, three months passed without him making any advances towards you.

It was a game. You noticed him watching you closely, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of your awareness as well. Armin knew you wouldn’t address him first, and he was fine with just stalking you. But Armin was just a man. A man who got captivated by your beauty every time he saw you. A man who noticed that killing everyone who approached you would be a never-ending task. A man who made the consecutive decision to claim you instead.

Claims come in different forms, Armin knew that. He could brand you, permanently etching his name into your body so you knew you were his. He could mark you, letting the world know he was the only one who had the pleasure of painting your skin like a canvas. His favorite idea so far was to dump his seed past your pretty brown pussy lips daily. 

Would you let him? Who were you kidding? You were aware of someone monitoring your movements nearly around the clock, yet you still chose to wet your sheets almost every week with the help of your Rose toy. He’ll make sure to punish you for that. The only time he ever wanted you to come was with him. You even leave your windows open as if inviting him to perform such a task. He knows you’re not stupid; your actions had a purpose.

You sat on your silk cream sheets, arranging your supplies and ingredients for another round of setting up a protection spell. The lavender and rose sage aroma filled the air, leaving a potent scent of smoke in the background. You were genuinely fatigued from constantly performing various iterations of the same spell each day. Why weren’t they working?

Black salt, Rosemary, Cinnamon, Bay Leaves, Mint, and Sage ashes. With the black salt, you draw a circle around you and light tall black candles in the dim light of your room. You start chanting. 

Elements of the moon,

Elements of the night,

Come this way

And grant me with your might.

Powers of night and day,

I summon thee,

I call upon thee,

To protect me.

So shall it be.

The flames coming from the candle become stronger, whooshing rapidly. An unseen gust extinguishes the flames and sends the sand you placed around you swirling into the air. Huh? That wasn’t supposed to happen. That shouldn’t have happened. Why the fuck did that happen?

As rustling outside your window catches your attention, you glance sharply but see nothing. Returning your focus to your sacred space, you raise your hand, ready to relight the candles, only to be halted by a gentle yet commanding voice.

“You look pretty tonight, Y/n,” Armin catches your attention as he stands from behind your closet door. You had yet to spot him. You understood the importance of maintaining composure and clarity in moments like these. The awareness of being followed had long been present, ever since it began. The protective spells were intended to deter him, yet frustration mounted as they proved ineffective against his persistence.

Armin wasn’t really thinking of any of that; rather, he fixated on how the red robe you wore accentuated the curves of your ample chest. The way you knelt emphasized the softness of your thighs, he wanted to drown in between them. 

“Come out. You’ve stalked me enough,” Your honeyed voice calls out. You survey the room, your gaze shifting from the cabinet housing your altar to your queen-sized bed and then to the wooden door of your walk-in closet. Your gaze settled on there a few seconds longer before shifting away.

You hear a small chuckle, and your frown only deepens, “The fuck is funny?” You’re about to get up from your position on your carpeted floor, only to be stopped by a large hand on your shoulder. When did he even move? Armin sits on the edge of your bed, eyes taking in every inch of you. When he firmly presses down to keep you still, your breath hitches.

You sense his presence drawing closer, the fabric of your silk robe brushing against him. Though you didn’t know what he looked like, his energy alone had you on the verge of surrender, prepared to relinquish control of your mind to him. You always knew you weren’t normal. After all, you are a witch. Getting sticky from a man that smelled like Baccarat Rouge 540 and commanded attention from just aura alone, though? That was beyond you.

“Relax, love.” He whispered gently in your ear, as if not to scare you. You were anything but. Your nerves were racking up in a different way, and small tears of sweat were forming on the inside of your pressed thighs. You had no panties on, and when Armin leaned down into the crook of your neck to smell you, his eyes caught sight of this.

“E-excuse me? Nigga if you don’t-” You continued to resist and shuffle out of his grip, and Armin understood the reason behind it. Your pride stood as a barrier to your surrender, but he remained undeterred. He’ll break you soon enough. 

He silenced you abruptly with a firm grip on your delicate throat. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool with you—not unless he was fucking up your insides. You weren’t in control here. And the problem was, you still thought you were.

“That’s wasn’t nice. Be nice, Y/n.” He squeezed tightly, restricting your airway a bit. You knew you weren’t normal when you felt a long trickle of your slick slip down the side of your soft brown flesh at the action.

“I want you, y’know? I think-” He pauses and sucks in a breath when he brushes his nose right against your sweet spot. You shudder. “I think I like you?” He seems confused himself, Armin really never felt this way before. He couldn’t even describe precisely what he was feeling with accuracy. Infatuation? Obsession? Devotion? He doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he would gladly offer you the world on the finest silver platter if you so desired.

“I’d like to show you. I want to give you everything I’ve been feeling for the past three months. Let me, baby.” He tilts your head in his direction, your lips a hair away from each other. When you steal a glance at his face, your slick only gets heavier. Fuck, he was pretty. His porcelain face is adorned with small dried splatters of blood, his oceanic eyes framed by long, hooded lashes, and his medium-length blond hair gently brushing against your cheeks.

This wasn’t a good idea, you knew that. Armin couldn’t share the moral compass you thinly held onto because he was just so consumed. He was entirely taken by you, believing that you might have staked a claim on him before he had the chance to do the same to you.

Any doubts and moral compass you held vanish through your half-opened window as he tenderly presses his pink lips against your full ones. Initially gentle, as if testing your response, he gradually presses harder when you offer no resistance, deepening it with intimacy.

You gasp when he squeezes your throat once more, allowing him to slip his skillful tongue into yours. The force of his kiss caused you to moan out in slight desperation. He smiles at this without pulling away from your addictive lips. He presses into you even more.

The way you gave in so easily felt completely out of your will, this wasn’t like you. You usually had more self-control, but before you even caught a glance at this man, he had you captivated. There was something about him, the mystery he held, the danger that clinched onto him just by breathing. It made you curious, eager to know more about the man who didn’t bother to hide his intense desire for you. And you alone.

Armin had a reputation for his patience, remaining consistently composed and collected. But, you and your perfect face had a way of unsettling him, causing him to act out of character with every move you made. He was keenly aware of this, finding himself compelled to do things for you that he had never considered doing for anyone else. Tonight, he learned that patience might not be his strong suit anymore.

Your skin felt like it was being electrified as his right hand traced a slow path down your body. Starting from your neck, trailing down to the center of your chest, and finally arriving at the fat of your pussy. You almost instantly grind against his middle finger, wanting him to do more. 

He noticed of course, he noticed everything about you. “I want you to beg, baby. Can you do that for me?” His whisper makes you shake in anticipation. You were wet, dripping all over the fabric of your carpet.

“P-Please-” You abruptly cut your whimpers off, realizing something that had completely slipped your mind: you didn’t even know his name. You snapped back into reality in a split second, struck by this realization.

Once more, he noticed. “It’s Armin. Moan it real pretty for me, kay?” The way he knew what you were thinking made you less hesitant to give him what he wanted you. What made your control slip was when he slid his finger down to the top of your sopping clit and rubbed lightly, enough pressure to make you squirm. He liked teasing you.

“S-Stop teasing- Ah!” He shuts you up when he presses two fingers harder, his rubbing making tight circles. Your breathing starts getting heavier at the bliss he’s making you feel.

The blonde asshole only smugly tutted at you, “What was that? I didn’t hear you beg, Y/n. Come on, you’re a smart girl.” 

He was teasing as if his heart wasn’t beating outside of his chest, just being this close to you. He was internally scrambling at how your slick was so much it fell off his fingers. He wanted to taste you. He wanted you to beg so he could taste you. 

You would’ve kept quiet, not feeding into his antics. But, he made you feel so.. good. The way his fingers rubbed up and down your slit, not quite going inside your tight walls. His rapid kisses all over your face and down your neck. The way you could feel his print, pressing heavily on your silk fabric. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please just- Shit. T-Touch me, Min.” He groans and exhales sharply at the name your blank mind mustered. Min. You called him Min.

Without warning, Armin hoists you up from the floor and gently places you onto your ice-cold sheets. Lying on your back, your red robe barely clung to your brown skin. You were completely exposed to him, your freshly painted white toenails grazing his shoulders, your soft thighs spread so that sticky pussy was on full display for him.

You must’ve been an angel or a goddess that he’d gladly worship. He could make a religion out of loving you, you were just that enchanting. He leans into your inner thigh and presses a kiss. It burns your skin. He presses another kiss, this time on your twinkling pearl. You jolt.

Maybe teasing wasn’t the best option for him. His erection was painfully hard in his black sweats, his impatient longing hidden from you as he bucks on the edge of your bed. You were too busy choking out pitiful cries when his lips latched onto your sweet nectar. “Oh, fuck!”

You started to feel hazy, your heart pounding and your brown eyes dazed at all the attention he was giving your pussy. Your hip began to spasm and twitch when he sucked harder, teasing your creamy opening with his long finger. 

“Say my name, mama. You remember it, right?” His husky plea fills the air. This time, you didn’t hesitate to let anyone within a 5-mile radius know who was eating you as if he starved himself all day just for this.

“A-Armin- Oh shit, Min! Please, more!” You sob, begging him to drench himself in you. He obliged, more than happily. He was at your disposal for the night and many more to come.

His ring and index finger find themselves nestled deep in your core. He stimulates your sensitive parts fast, quickening his pace inside of you. He relishes in the loud cry you make, latching on your pretty clit again. He knew how messy you could get, I mean look at how you were leaking. You had to be tired of changing your, no doubt, expensive sheets when you ruin them like this.

You felt a burning pressure in your gut, were you coming already? Armin answers your thoughts for you. His movements speed up, and the sounds of light smacking from how deep he was penetrating your g-spot echoed in your room. Your back tries to arch off the bed, the pleasure becoming too much for you. Armin makes you take it, pressing his large hand over the pudge your stomach made. You squeal.

“Fuckk,” Your moans get dragged out when a clear sprinkle of your cum escapes you. You were in a frenzy, the loud, lewd squishing sound of your pussy filling your ears. It was like a dam bursting, and what kept your eyes permanently in the back of your head was when he didn’t stop sucking. How could he? It was like you tasted better when you came, and Armin wasn’t a fool. He was determined to not let a single drop go to waste.

He removes himself from your lips with a resounding pop. “I’m going to fuck you now. So, don’t run.” Your eyes widen at his statement, your jaw almost dropping at his sheer size when you realize his sweats are carelessly scattered on the floor. There’s no way that’ll fit inside of you.

Armin knew what you were thinking, he surveyed the way your eyes wandered around nervously. He grasps your chin and plants a gentle peck on your slightly pouting lips, intertwining his fingers with yours to calm your nerves. 

“Breathe, mama.” He softly grunts. His kisses start getting heavier, blocking you from letting out a loud scream when he pushes into your weeping walls, inch by inch. He was making sure you felt everything, every vein, as he penetrated you. He blesses your ears with a breathy moan, caught off guard by how fucking tight you are.

He had to remind himself to breathe. Your muffled moans against his lips consume him, making his entire body tremble on you. You were being pushed to your limit, and Armin only paused for a second to let you adjust before his animalistic tendencies got the best of him. He wanted to fuck you up, bad.  

His hips begin to snap against your twitching legs at a desperate pace. The position he had you in was honestly mind fucking. Your thighs were firmly pressed to your chest, his hands caressing the balls of your unusually soft feet. Was everything about you so smooth? So beautiful and perfect. He answered his own question when your frantic mewls got louder. Yes.

Your pussy was dripping all over his chest, all over the fat cock rapidly pushing in and out against your cervix. Your pretty tits bounced under him, matching the forceful thrusts he fed you. They looked too... bare for his taste. He wanted you to be covered in his love marks, he wanted to make it impossible for you to remove them. He leans down, somehow pressing your shaky thighs closer to your upper body.

His wet tongue laps around your dark areolas, biting and pulling at them with his teeth until you push your hands into his hair and pull hard. Armin becomes drowsy, losing himself in the comfort your body gave him. He sucks and bites on the fat of your pretty tits, leaving behind deep purple bruises.

Was this heaven? You thought you saw the pearly gates as he continued hitting your G-spot with extreme accuracy. Every deep thrust he made you take caused you to let out helpless, euphoric shrieks. You press your hands against his rock-hard chest, running away from the pleasurable torture you are receiving. 

Well, you were trying to. You’ve convinced yourself you couldn’t take it, but Armin knows you can. So, why are you playing with him?

Armin grappled your wrists, pinning them above your head, and sucked his teeth, “You don’t listen?” He heatedly addresses you, trying so hard not to fill your perfect cunt with his seed. 

“Why you running, mama?” He questions you softly as if he wasn’t splitting you in half with his girth. He listens to your jumbled screams with a sly smile, pressing a delicate kiss right next to your diamond nose ring.

“I- I can’t, Ouuu shit Min! Can’t take it- Oh god!” Your sweet voice wails out. He makes a tsk sound, and to prove that you can take it, Armin reaches a hand down your stomach. Not once stopping his merciless rhythm, he rubs your engorged clit, desperate to see you cum again. You keen, and in an instant, your sweet juices spray all over him, your creamy essence coating his cock. 

“See, there you go. Fuck, you wanna take my cum, pretty? Want me to fill you up?” He deeply murmurs in your neck, sucking lazily. Your body falls limp against him. He was so close, so close to showing you just how much you have an effect on him. You nod frantically, mind not even on planet Earth as he overstimulates your now bruised pussy.

“Please, Min! I-I want it!” 

How can he deny when you beg him like that? When you gaze up at him with tears in your eyes, as if he’s your sole lifeline. You look at him as if he’s your deity, as though you can’t exist without him. You’re almost sure that after tonight, you can’t. His thrusts start getting sloppy, his hips stuttering as they leave a resounding slap against yours. Armin tenses and whimpers pathetically in your ear, unable to take the ecstasy your wet cunt made him feel. 

He gives you everything, all his cum, all his passion, and pumps in and out of your warm hole slowly. He shudders, his eyes clouded with pure infatuation as he leans down to force you into a nasty kiss. The kiss was incredibly messy; Armin seemed to be devouring you, with saliva escaping both your mouths as he began sucking on your tongue. When he notices you sucking in heavy breaths, he pulls away from you.

Armin pulled out of you, watching as his cum overflowed out of your sobbing slit. What a sight. He flips you over, on your stomach this time. You let out a long whine when he presses your back into a deep arch. What is he doing? His following words cause your breath to catch in your throat.

“You didn’t think we were done, right? Ass up, mama.”

[bonchobrick]

Duke and Danny bestie fic im co-authoring with some cool people for Patrol Partners! :D

A fic where Duke knows a lot about Gotham’s new problem, ghosts. The Waynes think the worst and assume he’s had some terrible experience with ghosts in the past (in reality is just very happy to talk about his best friends culture and doesnt realize how odd it is that he knows all this stuff)

Or

Duke is pretty much just vibing, the bats are having a meltdown, and Danny is having a blast!

—-

Then Duke pops the question

“So, what are you guys researching?” He asks raising a brow to the papers littered all over the room

Collectively the entire room groans as Duke absentmindedly picks up a paper on the table with the failed, static over-run image.

“We don't know!” Steph bemoans frustrated

Tim starts, “There are new entities–”

“Creatures.” Bruce corrects

Tim casts a piercing glance at his father, “I am pretty sure those are entities. Eye witness reports state that they look fairly human-like–”

Bruce challenges him right back, “Eye witness reports were also very likely to be unfactual, they seemed partially intoxicated. It’s more likely they are some kind of mutated animal.”

His son’s teeth grit, “Even so we still can’t rule out–”

“Oh right, the ghosts are back in town,” Duke's comments, gaze absorbed in the static image

Silence drowns the room as their weary eyes blink at Duke, processing what he had just said.

Then it clicks

“R-repeat that?” Tim stares intensely at Duke

“Um, the ghosts are back? That's what these are.” Duke nervously replies confused, “It’s been a bit since they visited Gotham

Tim opens and closes his mouth, immensely struggling to find any words to say. It seems like the rest of his family is fairing no better, some of them letting out noises of surprise and shock with others trying to hear if they heard that sentence right.

“There used to be ghosts in Gotham?” Bruce says incredulously

“Yeah?” Duke tilts his head, “I mean they don’t like living here with the corrupt ectoplasm but I’m friends with a few ghosts?”

Jason springs on him with wide eyes, “What are ghosts like, personality-wise?”

Duke thinks and responds with the first thought that comes to mind, “Fickle, they can be super friendly or super destructive. They do whatever they’re in the mood to.”

“Are they aggressive?”

“Sure? Sometimes?” Duke blinks at them bewildered before a petty smile crosses his lips, “They can be, hmm, commanding.”

Dicks eyes turn cold and protective, “What–”

“Listen guys,” Duke backs away from the discussion going with his internal task list in mind, “I gotta go wrap up putting together all my documents for my topic on my science fair project so uh, see-ya!”

The second youngest bounces out of the cave and the rest of the family stare dumbstruck at him.

New entities (ghosts?) pop up in Gotham + Duke describes them as fickle and commanding =

Duke is being made to do things for Ghosts who can be kind and cruel which =

= Duke is being bullied by Ghosts?!

Not on their Bat-watch!

Damian is already sharpening his ‘not murder tools’, Tim has sprung into research on the bat computer and the rest of the family have already dipped into Gotham ready to search for these perps!

Paranoid Family #1 will help Duke’s ghost problem starting now!

( pssst heres the fic :)

[chaichaiiskai]

Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.

If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.

notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.

warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.

The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.

However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.

As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.

One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.

"He's there! There!"

He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.

And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.

With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.

The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.

From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.

The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.

You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.

After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.

Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.

Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.

Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.

Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.

For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.

The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.

. . .

Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.

But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.

Consuming a wasp.

The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.

Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.

Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.

Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.

. . .

The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.

Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.

Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.

And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.

You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.

To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.

Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...

[evilminji]

Ya'll remember The Clench?

The ebola varient unleashed on Gotham that kills in 12 hours, by the Order of St Dunham?

Can... can Limnals even GET sick? I remember a fantastic book where the Charade was broken for mythical races SPECIFICALLY because a massive plague broke out... and they were left standing there, completely fine, going (o.o ) ( o.o) "uuuuuuh, we can explain". Because they just? Weren't effected.

We KNOW Ectoplasm don't play around. It is ACTIVELY and VICIOUSLY hostile to anything that harms it. Corrosive af.

Once incorporated into a living system... why WOULDN'T it take over for the immune system? It's BETTER at going completely Scorched Earth on any invading microorganisms or diseases, regardless of origin. With the sole exception being Ghost diseases.

So Dash, Wes, Sam, or whomever is visiting? Passing through? STUDYING at GCU? They would be suddenly surrounded by panicked humans who are bursting into body horror symptoms all while they stand there like? :T

Just 👉👈 I... I can explain... Officer Batman, sir... 🥺

Granted, it's probably AFTER hours spent helping people, covered in UNSPEAKABLE bodily fluid gore. And Amity Certified Nerds already on the other line because.. Well Shit, guess I have to fake my death now. This was KINDA NOTICEABLE and I DO Not wanna end up in some lab somewhere, for "The Greater Good(tm)".

Like? They aren't even a DOCTOR, man. They are a reporter. A cop. A fashion house designer. Maaybe a an eco-terrorist (Sam, No! D:<) (Sam, YES! >:D). But? Weird plague unleashing Murder Cults are sorta a... EVERYBODY problem. So guess this what they're doing today!

Man... FUCK Gotham.

[unbidden-yidden]

Ok so I can't screenshot so I'm putting this in the asks but people are talking about netanyahu because he's getting the attention right now. And that's because he's genociding Gaza right now and nothing else of that scale happened since. So of course he's the it girl rn.

Like I wholeheartedly agree with you, we shouldn't be saying people "deserve to die", I just want to point out that I don't like it whenever people go "but why are people talking about this figure (who's getting all the attention right now) and not these other figures? (Who aren't getting attention)"

But TLDR netanyahu's doing some fuck shit that's getting reported on so obviously he's getting talked about the most generally.

To bring it back to the original conversation, people were talking about Putin when the Russo Ukraine war was going on. I saw people get excited at the idea that he might have cancer when that lump on his face showed up. Putin was the it girl and now it's netanyahu.

Look I'm sure you don't mean it this way, but the original comment I was responding to was antisemitic and your comments excusing it are microaggressions.

[Original post for reference]

There are a few things going on here:

1. People are giving a hugely disproportionate amount of attention to Israel's military response to the October 7th massacre in Gaza because they are antisemitic. There have been plenty of humanitarian crises affecting Palestinians in Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and Egypt, yet the world literally only cares about them if they can use it as a cudgel against Jews. Obviously it's a humanitarian crisis and it deserves attention, and Israel deserves scrutiny and accountability for its actions. But the laser focus on Israel and only Israel belies the true motivation.

2. There are numerous other humanitarian crises happening right now that affect substantially more people, and which are unquestionably genocide. Can you name them? Can you tell me the relevant major players by name? Can you tell me the number of people murdered? Why or why not?

3. Specifically naming Bibi out of every possible vile human one could name, to me, specifically, a Jew - that's extra sus. Taken in combination with the previous points? Yeah, it's antisemitic.

4. The genocide of Ukraine by Russia is still ongoing, and ignorance about it is leading to dwindling support to such an extent that Ukrainians are having to ration bullets to defend themselves with. This one isn't meant as a scold, by the way — the plight of Ukraine is getting intentionally buried. Please don't stop talking about Ukraine, they need all the help they can get.

[And in b4 someone thinks I'm trying to say you shouldn't pay attention to what is happening in Gaza: please DO keep paying attention to Gaza and keep holding Bibi's feet to the fire. He's awful, his policies are awful, and he's encouraging the absolute worst members of Israeli society for his own selfish reasons. The people of Gaza are going through hell and need our help. Just please, for the love of G-d fact check things first and make sure you're not "supporting Palestine" by being antisemitic. Also make sure you are holding Hamas responsible for its part in the humanitarian crisis.]

[anyaeras]

Fucked up day || Wandnat

Paring Wanda x Natasha x Reader

Summary || Wanda and Natasha got a little carried away this Friday the 13th, but they did it in the name of love hmm?

Warnings || smut ,, AFAB!reader (They/them pronouns) ,, dom!wanda ,, dom!GP!Natasha ,, sub!reader ,, cunnalingus ,, d!v sex ,, light bondage ,, murder mentions ,, dark!plot ideas ,, slight mommy!kink ,, (a little degrading, if you squint) ,, manipulation concepts

Twitter Masterlist

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Friday the 13th Was all a joke to you, a stupid day that everybody wanted to act absurd, especially this Friday the 13th as it was in October approaching Halloween, you on the other hand had decided to have a quiet evening, until the news came on.

Reporting that multiple suspicious murders have taken place in your nearby city, no idea who the suspected killer is and it seems that they were still loose.

Clearly that's a little unsettling as a serial killer on the loose nearby isn't the most comforting feeling, yet it must be a whole Nother Friday the 13th prank that has gone way too far.

Now around 8:30 at night long after the sun had set, the cold brisk of the fall evening had settled, in the kitchen y/n was preparing a late dinner, simple really cutting up a few vegetables for the dish just than their phone with off.

'Unknown caller ID' the name read thinking nothing of it y/n let it go to voice mail, yet moments after the number called again.

Curiosity, overpowered ignorance, with that y/n picked up their cell.

"Do you like scary movies?" A strange male sounding voice asked over the line, leaving y/n with a shiver.

"Umm not really, I don't watch them a lot" y/n replied not thinking to much about it as none of this seemed familiar.

"What a shame, I wanted to know what's your favorite scary movie?" The raspy voice asked and that's when it hit her, the movies with the stabbing, that's what the line was from.

"Haha very funny, trying to prank me with a line from a movie" y/n said clearly not impressed before hanging up, a huge horror movie mistake.

Then again it was just a joke, going on continuing, making their meal, the sound of the front door opening, caught them off guard.

"Hello? Can I help you?" Y/n voice shouted threw the house.

"Yes sure you can y/n." The same raspy voice from over the phone now was heard throughout their house.

"This isn't funny what is this a sick joke to you?!" Y/n shouted now finally a bit uneasy with the whole situation, especially because I had no idea who would come into their house.

Y/n felt something or should they say someone quickly grab them pulling them backwards, kicking and screaming to get loose yet someone in a ghost face mask also now stood in front of them.

"every good screen movie always has two killers" the ghost face in front said.

Y/n was manhandled into a chair tied down in merely seconds.

"See y/n all these killing tonight were for you, we did it for you." The ghostface behind y/n explained

"What do you mean you did this for me? You killed innocent people?!" Y/n shouted out now confused and disgusted.

A phone was pulled from the front ghostfaces pocket, showing y/n each person who was killed, each one in someway had a relationship to y/n and they knew it.

"Y-you kill my friends? W-why?" Managing to stutter out words, almost frozen in a form of shock.

"They weren't your friends, especially not him!" the first ghost face was clearly becoming impatient as they should the photo of y/n's boyfriends slashed body, causing y/n to gasp, a few tears falling down their face.

"You're sick!"

"We aren't sick, we are protecting you, he would've just hurt you honey, we will protect you" at that point the slasher in front took off their mask, revealing themself

"Natasha?" Y/n gasped seeing the fiery redhead under the mask

"W-who's that-" now asking referring to the other masked murderer confused if one of them was Natasha, then who could the other one be?

Removing the mask, a shimmering Burnett was revealed

"Wanda? Why? Why me? Are you both going to kill me now?" They asked the two once masked murders who giggled in response to said question.

"Of course not silly, we did it all to save you, we wouldn't want to hurt you dear" Wanda spoke softly her knife touching y/n face gently.

"S-so what exactly do you want with me" clearly y/n was still confused on why their friends caused all these killings when the only reasoning they gave y/n was they killed them was to 'save you'

Natasha took her turn moving closer so that she could grab y/n's jaw forcing them to look up at her.

"Y/n, Wanda and I want all of you детка. You are ours" Natasha spoke soft words in a harsh tone

"SO YOU KILLED A BUNCH OF PEOPLE, ARE YOU GUYS DUMB WHAT IF YOU GET CAUGHT?" Y/n shouted finding the whole situation absolutely absurd.

"Are you going to turn us in?" Natasha's face held the same signature smirk, each word was taunting to the person tied in the chair.

"No they wouldn't turn us in, they don't wanna lose us" Wanda joined in on the teasing, giving y/n a quick kiss

Y/n couldn't help but enjoy the kiss, as much as they didn't want to due to the circumstances, y/n did have a tiny crush on the two women.

"That's pathetic y/n, you didn't even pull away" Wanda laughed clearly y/n wanted them even after they killed, and tied them up, and both older women knew that would be the outcome, that's why they did it.

"Guys I- umm" y/n being flustered made Natasha laugh, now taking a kiss herself from the tied up y/n.

"It's okay to want us детка" Wanda spoke softly brushing some of y/n's loose hair out of their face.

"But I shouldn't-" quickly y/n's words were hushed by the two other women who wanted to ruin the innocent one who was tied to a chair.

Natasha was getting fed up with y/n going back and forth and finally took things into her own hands. Swiftly moving to kiss now down y/n's neck, making them gasp at the feeling.

"T-Tasha" y/n's words were breathy as the redhead kept kissing on them

"Darling it seems you're a little trapped, would you like us to stop?" Wanda asked softly yet she was serious, for being a bit crazy, she was still caring and didn't want to do anything to harm y/n. Natasha also pulled away for a moment looking up at y/n for their consent yet when y/n whined for them to keep going the knew it was free game.

Natasha moved back into sucking non y/n's neck while Wanda dropped to her knees between y/n's legs.

"Can mommy taste you honey?" The name caught y/n off guard yet they still nodded giving Wanda the go, now as the witch moved y/n's pants to the floor, along with their panties she almost went feral just at the site.

"Fuck" the one tied to the chair huffed out biting their lip as Wanda got to work, having fun working y/n up

"Look at you, all tied up for us" Natasha teased as Wanda was a bit busy.

Natasha moved to grope y/n's body even more, slowly bringing them over the edge.

"Let go for us моя ангел" the redhead coaxed them over the edge, forcing y/n into their first orgasm.

Wanda lifted her head to forcefully kiss y/n, making them taste themself on her cherry colored lips. As Wanda held the kids her hands moved behind the chair, untying y/n's arms, so that the Burnett could reposition the once tied up y/n, now pushing them onto all fours, Natasha stood behind, while Wanda moved to stand in front.

"Can we use you pretty one?" Wanda bent down asking softly, yet her words were far from innocent, yet with y/n's brain already being fuzzy they were quick to nod along.

Natasha undid her jeans, pulling out her dick, finding a way to line up with y/n's cunt, slowly sliding into them making y/n moan out loudly, which Wanda countered by forcing y/n's mouth onto her cunt, giving the Burnett pleasure each time y/n moaned, Tasha on the other hand was railing y/n from behind as her dick was covered now in y/n's slick juices, making it easier for her to move in and out, which was causing y/n to scream moving closer to their second climax's.

"F-fuck I-I'm close" y/n groaned out, making Natasha thrust harder, as she herself was rather close.

"Make mommy cum and you can cum y/n" Wanda ordered making y/n work even harder at eating out Wanda, focusing on her clit more than before until the women's legs were shaking as she let go her orgasm left, prominent on y/n's face.

"Go on дорогой let go" Wanda whispered as Natasha also let her seed fill y/n, which was the finally push, making y/n shake as she orgasmed loudly.

"You did so good baby" Natasha whispered pulling out slowly, still using her arms to help support y/n, as it was clear they couldn't stand on their own.

"So so good for us, but детка, we have got to get out of here" Wanda explained now lifting y/n, supporting their weight, as Natasha grabbed keys, they were ready to skip town due to the early nights activities but as well as taking y/n far far away from this fucked up town, on the fucked up day....

[aouiaa]

Who are you, really?

Outline: Love is many things; beautiful, transformative, but isn’t always like that. It can also be dangerous, deceiving, and in this case, it’s all the above for you. Can you break your morals for love?

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Modern au + Reader’s pov + No baby JJ + D and R are in their mid 30s + Established relationship + Description of violence + Mentions of death + Multiple mentions of sexual depictions + Flashback + Angst + Mentions of R being a workaholic + Fluff + Raunchy humor + Italics are R’s thoughts + The bold italics are just for narration!

Chapter one -> Next Chapter

The loud sound of something being slammed on your desk disrupted your “eye rest” break. Startled, your eyes subconsciously snap open to see another pile of files on your desk. Fuck, more?! And standing behind them is your boss.

Shit..

“Sleeping on the job again, I assume?” the feminine voice penetrates your eardrums.

You groan, rubbing your eye, “No, no—“ you sigh, “just resting my eyes, sorry ma’am.”

“Well resting your eyes—“ she emphasized, “—ain’t gonna solve the cases that are piling on your desk, Y/n.”

You sighed, “I know, I know, you know I wouldn’t slack off on these cases—just…need some coffee.” you responded. You need more than just coffee, you needed some fucking clarity. An explanation to tell everyone around you, but mostly for yourself. Having multiple endless sleepless nights trying to conjure up an explanation. With all these unsolved cases—or should I say horrific cases piling your desk like damn skyscrapers. How could you sleep?

From the last viewing of past crimes, you’ve seen the gruesome length, this killer isn’t afraid to tread. But this wasn't unusual for you, you’re a crime scene investigator—lead crime scene Investigator on this ongoing case—sorry. So this became the norm for you. But with the norm came responsibilities, and with responsibility came stress. This maniac has been roaming around for years now, murdering innocent victims.

Only now, their murders have been getting more brutal. Old reports stated, “victim found with multiple stab wounds to the chest area” to now reporting, finding them with stab wounds and or either their “abdomens gutted” or “limbs missing” that would be later found spread out in public spaces.

What a sick fuck.

But the one thing they were notorious for was leaving evidence. It wasn’t actually evidence to get them caught. No, They were fucking smart, you’d give them that. It was just evidence to get you and your team excited to only realize it leads to a dead end, leaving everyone frustrated. This fucker was toying with you. You were gonna make sure this asshole pays for what he did. Even if it kills you.

Because having the victims’ family belittle you and your team infuriated you. Because who were they to call you and your team quote on quote, ‘just a bunch of useless idiots sitting on their asses eating donuts?!’ My god, that’s just a fucking stereotype!—actually a glazed donut sounds good right now—

“Hey, Y/n?—Y/n!” a voice ripples through your ongoing thoughts.

“Huh?—Ahh shit!” You hiss as the scolding hot coffee lands and burns your skin. Pulling your hand to your chest and holding the irritated skin, you look behind to see your colleague, Sam.

“Shit—you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m fine.” Fucking coffee, “You staying late tonight?” you ask.

“No, no, gotta get home to the missus tonight and you?” he says with a gruffy chuckle.

You chuckle as well and respond, “Uhh—no, I’m staying late tonight, gotta finish up a few things…” you say while grabbing your steaming coffee carefully and walking over to the coffee counter display. He follows slowly behind and leans against the counter beside you and replies, “Oh…alright—just be careful. These recent killings, man, they have everyone on edge.” he warns.

That warning makes you chuckle, “Trust me, I can deal with some asshole.” you reply while pouring some of the coffee out and ripping open a sugar packet, pouring the contents inside your cup. But you didnt hear him laugh along, instead a unamused sigh leaving his mouth, “Y/n—” Fuck, here we go again, “—Alright, alright, I’ll be safe, god.” you interrupt with a little chuckle to avoid an awkward moment.

He sighs, “You can’t joke around like that—“ This fucking guy “—I said I’ll be safe.” interrupting once more with a serious tone. The immediate seriousness in your voice catches him off guard, making him back off. “Alright, sorry…I’ll…see you tomorrow.” he responds sheepishly and begins to walk away as you finish making your coffee.

You turn your head to see your colleague walking away, feeling the guilt settling in your stomach—Fuck..

You didn’t mean to blow off on him like that. You’ve just been restless and so tense lately and no one can take a fucking joke. Granted, it was a shitty one, but still! Pull the sticks out your asses, guys and laugh! With a sigh, you sip your still bitter coffee—after putting in a bunch of creamers—and enter your office to resume on an unfinished report.

You were on a roll! Finishing report after report, you loved the adrenaline you got from this. You could run two fucking marathons this rush coursing through your veins. Until the sound of your alarm disturbs the high. That stupid ass Justin Bieber song starts to play; “Baby, baby, baby oh!” With a groan, you grab the noisy phone from your pocket, holding it in your hand causes the phone to light up. It gives you a better look at the alarm’s display and with the name for it above, “Time to cum home!” Upon reading the name, it causes you to laugh while turning off the alarm.

God, I love her..

Standing up from your comfortable office chair, you begin packing your belongings up and pushing aside the empty coffee cups that desperately need to be thrown out. Eh..I’ll do it later. you won’t be doing it “later”. Nonetheless, you shut off the lights and begin trudging to the main office’s elevator, pressing the call button.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket once again, you go to the message app, and texting your girlfriend, Dina. You smile at the past conversation with your lover and text her.

You wait a couple seconds for the “Delivered” receipt to turn to, “Read”, but it was a possible chance it wouldn’t since you knew tonight she was gonna stay up late working on designs for one of her clients. But the dinging sound of the elevator doors causes you to look up from your phone and walk inside. Turning off your phone and putting it back in your pocket, you press the button for the ground floor and begin your descent when that stupid ass alarm blares off again; “Baby, baby, baby oh!” You groan, immediately take out your phone to turn it off.

“Stupid ass fucking song.” you mumbled annoyedly.

Few months prior…

You walk into your shared bedroom to find your girlfriend fiddling with your phone. At first, you didn’t mind until you started hearing multiple alarm sounds coming from Dina’s direction causing you to turn around.

“Bae, what are you doing?” you ask while settling yourself down behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, and placing your chin on her shoulder gently to look down at what she’s doing.

“Setting an alarm for you.” she replies.

Her answer elicits a chuckle and you begin to try taking your phone away from her playfully. “Dina, bae, you know I don’t need my phone to wake me up in the morning. I have the alarm clock for that.”

With every attempt to grabbing your phone results in being unsuccessful as she moves it out of your reach. “It's not for that.” she states, causing you to become even more confused.

“Oh?—what’s it for then?” you say with a cheeky smile and start to hum dramatically as if you’re thinking what it could be used for as you inquire again, “is it a reminder to eat you out—“

“Y/n!” she interrupts you, causing you to burst out laughing while she elbows your arm.

“No, you perv!” she quips with a smile, “it’s so you know when to come back from work.”

Your laughter slowly dies out and immediately giveher a look, “to stop working? babe—“

“—Ah, ah, ah, no, before you start, this is set because I know how you are.”

“anndd” you drag out, “how am I?” you ask playfully with a smirk.

She huffs, “You’re a workaholic” she bluntly says, “and tend to stay in your office for a long period of time even after your shift has ended!” she argues.

Her statement causes your playful demeanor to drop instantly and rest your head on her shoulder again, “Baby, you know I’m trying not to do that anymore.” you say softly.

“I know you are, but this is just to ensure that.” she softens her voice and looks back at you. There’s awkward silence between the two of you. Before a sigh from your girlfriend breaks that silence, “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.” You knew that she meant well and just acted this way out of fear. Terrified, She’d get the heart dropping call that you “collapsed at work and now in the hospital” again. No, she couldn't relive that moment again. No, you wouldn’t let that happen. Not again.

So you didn’t protest any further, just giving a nod and watching your girlfriend set the alarm. And even trying to lighten up the mood by helping her pick the most goofiest alarm sound that you knew you’d come to hate. But you didn’t care since you knew it’d bring the one girl you entrusted with your heart, comfort.

Present…

The pattering of rain hitting your windshield as you drive down the familiar neighborhood feels so relaxing. Soothing even, it’s one of those rare comforts you get from your chaotic life and each time the feeling eventuates, you embrace it. But even though you try desperately to cling onto this feeling tightly, it always leaves. Always leaving a bitter feeling behind. With this same feeling coursing through your body, you pull into the driveway of your one story house. Turning off the engine, you don’t move instead resting your head on the steering wheel, listening and counting carefully to all the soft thumps that cast down on your car.

Pull yourself together..

Reluctantly, you get out of your car and walk to the entrance of your house while stuffing your hand in your pocket, searching for your keys. Fucking keys, where are you? Until the sharp edge of the key prickles your finger as you mouth the word “ow” before grabbing the key and sticking it in the keyhole. Twisting the key, unlocking the door to your cozy house.

Ahh, home at last.

Walking inside, you throw your keys into the bowl with Dina’s. “Dina?” you call out as you shut the door behind you and begin kicking your shoes off. No response. “Dina?” you call out again while losing your tie. No response once again—wait is that the water running? You hum in confusion and walk down the hallway, looking to the right, you see Dina’s ipad on the dining table with papers scattered around it.

Tattoo sketches..but where is the artist?

You avert your gaze ahead and continue walking down the winding hallway. The running water can be heard more prominent now, She must be in the bathroom. Now in front of the bathroom door, you can confirm that the water is running from the other end—but there’s also rustling. “Dina?” you knock on the door, “Baby, I’m home.” you say, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll be out in a bit…just using the bathroom!” The familiar voice says, causing you to smile.

“Alright—I’ll be in the kitchen.” you say and begin your way to said location.

“Okay!” you hear faintly as you walk away.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself some water, leaning against the counter, and closing your eyes. Trying not to think of the stresses of work, even though that’s all what’s been clouding your mind for months. Dismembered corpse—public space—some gutted—missing limbs—some having the same fate—oh god…

The sound of a door opening and soft footsteps approaching cause you to open your eyes and clear all those thoughts. You exhale, preparing yourself—For what? Upon seeing the raven haired girl, you set your glass down on the counter and walk over to you. Wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning in to kiss her.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, you okay?” she says with a hint of worry in her tone.

The feeling of Dina caressing your cheek elicits a sigh, “Y-yeah—no, I'm okay. You took a shower?” you ask, noticing her damp hair.

A frown adorns on her face, but she answers your question. “Yeah, couldn’t really think so i took a shower.”

You nod, “Alright—well I should probably take one.”

She just hums in acknowledgment, seeming to be lost in thought. You knew when she was quiet like this—something was up.

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause, before uttering out, “Are you sure, you’re okay?”

You stare at your girlfriend, hesitant to worry or even plagued with her thoughts with those gruesome scenes that certainly keep you up at night. But you know, that it’ll only worry her more if you don’t say anything so—“Just work…I don’t know—“

“You do know, Y/n” She interrupts, not impressed by your response.

That intrusion leaves you speechless, pulling away from her embrace, you lean against the counter, “I know…just need—little rest that’s all.”

She crosses her arms once you pull away and just watches you. Eventually she walks past you, muttering something under her breath.

You feel your heart drop to watch your girlfriend act this way. Can I blame her? You sigh and walk towards her while she looks inside the fridge, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I don’t mean to worry you, Dina—“

“—Well you are.” she sighs, shutting the fridge door. Her focus turns to you, “I just want you to talk to me. To tell me your worries—to just communicate with me.” she says, almost pleading.

You nod, “I know—I just..” you sigh, “I just don’t want to…paint out these gruesome images in your head.” You try to hug her, but with caution—scared she’d pull away.

She doesn't though, immediately embracing you, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n” she sighs, “I just don’t want you to hold it all in, It’s not good.”

“It’s not exactly good for you either.” you say with a slight chuckle. You feel her smile against your skin eliciting a little laugh from her, “Like i said, don’t worry about me.” she repeats, pulling away to look at you with a smile painted on her face.

There it is again, that comfort you seem to look for subconsciously. It’s in front of you right now with the beautifulest smile in the world. Until she pats the side of your shoulder, “Now, we should cook something before heading to bed. ‘Cause I’m fucking starving.”

You groan, “Do we have to?” you emphasize on “have” in a whiny tone as you begin kissing her neck—hoping to distract her, “Can’t I just have you for dinner and call it a day?” you quip—but not really.

Dina chuckles, “That would be no fair, what would I eat?” She plays along.

“Oh? you can have this pus—“ you’re stopped midword when Dina puts her hand over your mouth, gasping, “No, you dirty dog. We're eating actual food and getting rest.” You smile and lick her hand causing her to snatch it away and yelling which makes you burst out laughing.

Dina wipes the palm of her hand on her jeans, “You’re such a freak…” she huffs while opening the fridge to get ingredients for this mini past midnight snack. You cross your arms, watching her with a smile adorning your face. It’s only when she has a handful of things in her arms when you lean off and take some weight off her hands, “woah—babe.” you chuckle, “what’s all this?”

Your question elicits a smile, “Dinner.” she states, settling the ingredients down. You follow her actions and look at her, “Dinner?—what are you exactly making?” you inquire with a nervous laugh. “Stop questioning the chef and help.” She demands playfully. Her demeanor makes you laugh,“Shit, yes ma’am” you say dramatically.

“Chef.” she corrects with a smile.

“Right.” You say as you begin washing the vegetables.

Although you were always exhausted from your average eighteen hour shifts, you weren’t gonna let that stop you from having these types of moments with your girlfriend. Even if they were small as carpooling with one another to work or sitting down and just talking to each other. You didn’t care, it was small and vulnerable things that mattered the most to you. The ones you cherished. You have always been an observer since a child. That’s how you landed in the work you do now.

Taking the smallest moments and finding tranquility in every single one of them. Because without them, Who are you? Without these memories to keep you afloat, you’d be nothing. You wanted to be wherever Dina went because without her, you’d probably be in some dingy apartment eating pizza with static playing on your tv, losing your mind or worse.

God..don't even wanna think about that right now.

So you don’t, instead you watch your girlfriend ramble on about work, finding yourself entranced by her beauty. The way she stops and drops the spoon to occasionally move her hands around while talking, the way the strands of hair that come loose from her bun cast perfectly down her nape. God you loved her, you’d do anything for her. Anything.

“—I swear if I get one more client asking for fucking roses or skulls, Ima lose it!” she exclaims.

You snap out of your thoughts, “Yeah.” you say with a chuckle.

She stops and looks at you, “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

You smile, “I've been listening.” you respond, crossing your arms.

She rolls her eyes and resumes cooking while you walk behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist, “I have, please continue.” you assure her, placing light kisses on her shoulder.

She hums, “Well, I’ve been working on this piece for a friend of mine.” she continues.

You lay your head on her shoulder, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m really excited!”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Ellie, you remember her, right? From college.”

You nod and hum, “Oh yeah, I remember her.”

“Yup, I’m gonna be doing her left arm.”

“Ooo, sounds like that’s gonna hurt, especially in the armpit area.” you scrunch your face in displeasure.

“Well, she asked me to recommend an area where it’d look good and I suggested there.”

“Ahh—mm…well what’s the design she has in mind?”

“I don’t know, We haven’t gone in much depth into specifics, but definitely space related?”

You hum, “I’m excited for you, seems fun!” you say to her while watching her hand move the wooden spoon rhythmically around the pot until her voice snaps you out of your trance, “Set the table for me, yeah?”

With a quick nod and “Okay.”, you walk down the hall to the dining area. Upon arriving, you see the true mindset of an artist. Like seen when you arrived home, papers scattered midway of the dining table, some blank and some scribbled over unfinished designs that seem not to meet the artist’s high standards. You carefully grab all the papers and pile them into one neat pile.

Placing them aside, you grab Dina’s ipad that lights up immediately upon grabbing and showcases the unfinished sketch on the screen. Ellie’s tattoo, it’s a rough sketch of the design but some prominent details are visible. Upon closer inspection, you can see what looks to be a lightly sketched astronaut with wings attached behind it.

Scrutinizing the image comes to a short end when you hear footsteps behind you. Turning off the ipad and placing it on the stack of papers, you grab the bunch and turn around to see Dina with two bowls in hand, “Hey, sorry for the mess on the table” she says, placing the two bowls down and grabbing the stack from your hands.

“It’s no problem, seen your work. Fucking sick, babe.” You remark.

Your compliment elicits a smile from Dina, “Thank you, It’s not the final cut, but it’s something.”

You hum in response, “Well I like it already, finale or not.” you say with a smile.

The corner of the raven haired girl’s lips curve upward, “Heh, thanks babe.”

You shoot a wink at her and sit down while she sets the supplies aside and sits with you. Looking down at the contents in the bowl, it looks fucking amazing and you tell your girlfriend that. Finally, a real fucking meal. Not some fast food place down the street from your job.

A real meal.

“4:26” is what is displayed on the clock sitting on your nightstand. How stupid of you to think, this’ll be the night you would actually get some sleep. Fuuuchhhkk.. Lying flat on the bed once more, you stared up at the ceiling. The soft breathing of your girlfriend fans lightly on your cheek, only annoys you more. Fuck it, I’ll just take one of Dina’s sleeping pills. Sitting up, you look beside you to see your girlfriend’s figure and looking over her form. You don’t see the pills that usually sit on her nightstand.

Fuck, Where the fuck did she put them?!

Throwing the sheet off your body, you slowly get out of bed and walk over to the other side of the bed. Carefully opening the drawer, you don’t find what you’re looking for. Fuck, she must’ve left them on the counter. Shutting the drawer lightly, you sneak away to the entrance of your bedroom, twisting the knob to exit.

Upon opening the door, you peek your head out to the abyss clouding your vision. You begin your descent into the dark hallway like a bat, gliding your arm along the wall for a light switch. When you’re almost down at the end of the hall, you kick something that goes flying down the end of the hallway.

Fuck..

You quickly find the switch and look down to see what you kicked, Dina’s backpack—Shit—You walk towards it and bend down to pick it up, but stop when something catches your eye. On the backpack can be found a dried substance.

is that blood?—

“Babe, what are you doing with my bag?”

The sound you come to love is now sending a chill down your back; Your girlfriend's voice,

Dina.

AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE; Please look at these links for palestine!! — How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE. Please view these links to better educate yourself. If you could read this entire fic then you can take a few moments to learn and support palestine!

a/n; I know you’re sitting at the edge of your seat (hopefullly) to know what happens next 😭. And trust me I will be posting chapter two soon…maybe? I don’t wanna make promises because a lot of shit has happened in tumblr and my personal life which will hinder my progress of writing. But i honestly love fucking writing, it’s one of the few things that bring joy to my heart. I and I absolutely found joy in writing this chapter and I can’t fucking wait to start writing on chapter two!!! AHHHHH there’s so many fears and discomfort that do come to mind when i think of this fic and i’ll discuss one of them; the little recognition that Dina fic get :(((( i won’t go into detail but i do have to remind myself that this is for my pure enjoyment. GIVE DINA SO JUSTICE WTFFF?!!! And i truly can’t wait to write chapter two!!! Just the anticipation I’m having for it AHHHH okay okay ima stop yapping 😭😭 But i just before i fully stop yapping in my papping, I’d like to thank my two favs, @dyk3ang3l and @elliesprettygirl for listening to my thoughts on this! Especially syd, because whole fuck you really encouraged to me to write this and i love you so much 🤍😭😭. But with that, thank you for reading this, you seriously don’t know how happy I get seeing people enjoy what I enjoy making so Just thank you. And with all that cheesy shit out the way, MAKE SURE TO LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE TO NEVER MISS A BANGER LIKE THIS!!! 💯💯🔥🔥🔥

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[save-the-villainous-cat]

Idea:

hero broke their arm, and is now trapped in their bathroom trying to bathe (only lit by candles because light went out) when Villian (their roommate) comes looking for them and then help them in bathing and wearing clothes afterwards

Just some hurt comfort please.. No teasing, just them basking in each other's comfort

"You know you can ask me whenever you need my help, right?" The villain helped them into the bathtub, one hand on the hero's waist and the other holding their hand. They had never thought the hero would be their roommate. But the city was big and apartments were expensive.

The villain couldn't move and the hero couldn't either. And somewhere along the way, the hero - despite their hatred - had decided not to report them to the police. Maybe it was pity, maybe compassion. The villain wasn't sure yet.

"So you can break more of my bones?" the hero asked quietly.

"I didn't break your arm," the villain said. They let go of the hero and sat down next to the bathtub, eyes glued to the ground. It was difficult, the villain had to admit. The hero was a horrible roommate, trying to make the villain's life as miserable as possible. Never cleaning up, bringing over random people, listening to loud music, ignoring them all the time.

Of course, the villain didn't blame them. They were enemies. But they didn't want this.

"You have broken much more than just my bones." The villain closed their eyes. Did the hero not know that this was the exact reason why the villain couldn't sleep? Why they had developed several questionable methods of distraction?

God, the villain knew they were no saint. They worked with dangerous people, built dangerous stuff. They could barely live with themselves.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just really need the money," they whispered. Shame had become a companion. The villain wasn't quite sure if they could ever get used to it. "I don't mean to be...violent."

"That doesn't give you the right to bite," the hero answered and the villain was quiet for a long time. The hero didn't look at them. Their eyes stared into the water, the broken arm - still blue and green - put onto the edge of the bathtub and their legs pulled against their chest. They could've put their chin on their knees but the hero hadn't done that.

Their body was decorated with scars, each an individual and unwanted present for the hero. Usually, the villain covered their own scars and they knew the hero did that, too. So, it was the first time the villain saw them like this. And for the first time, they didn't see scars as something disgusting. They wanted to stretch out their arm and trace the large scar on the hero's back. But they didn't do that.

"I know. I'm scared...I'm sorry." Slowly, the hero's gaze softened and they looked at their nemesis, somewhat pitiful.

"Why are you kind to me?" the hero asked. "Why aren't you trying to murder me here?"

"I really do it just for the money and you pay half the rent." It was an attempted joke and to the villain's surprise, their enemy smiled.

"We both know you're not kind out of convenience. I haven't seen you out there in months but I have seen the bloody bathroom or the open window at night. You're still out there, you're still fighting. But you're avoiding me," the hero said.

"Well, it is strange to break your bones now. I got to know you. I know your coffee order, I know your favourite food. I know your favourite movies and your favourite books. I know when you go to bed or when you wake up."

"Still, I wasn't kind to you," the hero said. Their cheeks were glowing, maybe out of embarrassment, maybe because the bath was hot.

"I can't blame you. I get attached to people too easily." It was the truth. Every time, the villain fell in love with their best friends. They couldn't help it. Being around someone their age was like a curse. Whether that person was good to them or not, the villain fell for them eventually within weeks. They loved like a dog. But the hero did not need to know that. "I don't want you to hate me."

"I'm sorry," the hero said. "When I was being rude, I didn't see the person, I just saw my enemy. Maybe I am the one who has to learn not to bite."

They reached for the villain's shoulder.

"Maybe some peace will be good," the hero said gently. "Maybe we could become friends."

The villain was doomed. They would lose this relationship too.

[kadextra]

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about current lore, so it’s time to ramble my thoughts/theories/analysis whatever you wanna call it >:D

(long post get ready)

Alright, let’s talk about q!Cellbit… there is a lot happening with him rn. It’s been so crazy keeping up with all the enigmas lately

(these next thoughts about the character will all be centered on the idea that this is indeed him doing the worker murders, and he’s not being framed.)

His emotional state is unrestrained, and returning to past ways of violent behavior from the days of war and prison. he’s not repressing his feelings anymore, no more holding back. I could go on about these emotions and what they mean for him, but instead I’m gonna talk about the strategic reason I think q!Cellbit would want to kill the workers to begin with. I strongly believe that even if he’s in madness, no way is he mindless. his intelligence is sharp like the point of a dagger, and aimed straight at the federation. this is a plot of revenge on the “little bear” after all. “his toys will keep falling until he pays for everything.”

This is a guy that’s always careful about not leaving traces in all the investigative work he does, but here q!Cellbit is choosing to leave the bodies around the main spawn area where everyone can see, complete with encrypted messages next to them meant for Cucurucho to read (intercepted by q!Bagi) that so obviously leads right back to him. an intentional move, he stated in one of the messages that it’s a show and he wants people to watch- wants Cucurucho to watch, and hopes for the hunt to continue. though I think by being so obvious, he ultimately intends to get caught. ofc it’s not turning out the way he wants because q!Bagi is getting there first, but he is still set on a self-destructive path that I can only see ending up with him going down in a fight… but only after damaging the federation to a degree they can hopefully not recover from. which we know is his goal, he said as much in his last conversation with q!Bad.

Back then, q!Cellbit talked about how he realized that since q!Bad kidnapped Ron, it caused the federation to get into a lot of problems, he saw how going after the workers could cause some big damage. in the federation’s reports it’s shown how they had to put vital resources that would’ve gone to finding the eggs & pacifying the chaotic islanders into their own internal affairs, because all the workers were freaking out over the kidnapping. it was bad enough to make them need to hire psychological professionals to give therapy, send out people to search for Ron, and assign guards to the A-ranks so they could move safely around the island.

All the employees were already in constant fear over the past several weeks that they’d be the next one to disappear… and now here comes q!Cellbit turning the fears into a living nightmare.

Fast forward to today with workers being targeted left and right. as for why it’s only B-ranks? maybe because the A-ranks are too hard to catch alone right now (Bad also had trouble) but B’s are still a high level and can cause some major chaos as seen by Ron. and they just keep on dropping.

q!Cellbit’s building on this snowball of terror that q!Bad set off, all to crash into the federation and send it into even more disarray. it’s working. which gets even more chaotic when you factor in how he’s not even the only one doing something like this right now. q!Etoiles is unintentionally adding to it by breaking into federation facilities on behalf of the resistance and mercilessly taking out more workers. plus how the federation doesn’t even know q!Quackity has A-rank Fred locked in a jail. (or maybe the higher-ups know. tbh I still don’t know how qQ did this and still think the situation is sus. I have the theory that the federation let it happen as fred’s punishment for getting close to an islander)

Agent 18 told q!Foolish that all the employees are scared out of their minds right now with the danger of kidnapping + getting assassinated by the killer. they are staying shut inside the office cubicles and are too afraid to go outside alone. Agent 18 literally stepped out for 5 minutes, heard a small noise and it was enough to send them running back to hide

it’s clear that the federation workforce is now in shambles, and honestly I wonder how many might be getting disillusioned with the federation’s ability to protect them…. because yeah they are very weak right now. which is why I believe the federation has been introducing all this new tech to cut the losses: Minimes to give the workers an army as protection (failed because it was stolen by the islanders) and Cucuruchito placed at spawn, one of the main islander meeting points, and where it just so happens the worker murders are

Cucurchito is intended to passively gather intel for the federation, which I think they’re in dire need of because I am seriously doubting in the federation’s ability to know anything about what’s happening in these current events. they are in a rough state, just as confused as we are about where the eggs disappeared to, the islanders are all going crazy. they don’t know what the dark matter is and also somehow lost the president in the nether, there’s an obvious egg who’s supposed to be dead running around which they aren’t doing anything about. they got distracted from Ron’s case, don’t know Fred is missing, who the culprits behind both that and who is doing the worker murders are. employee morale is below negative.

but everything is a-okay because they have this little creature now!!! he’s the perfect solution :3

okay that’s the end of my rambles :D

I love the lore and as always, hope for future events to be unexpected and surprise me!! it’s really nice to have theories confirmed, though I also enjoy getting proven wrong ^^ excited to see what happens next, it be chaos on these quesadilla island streets

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 1: Sick with Dread

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

There are a lot of new people here who may not know I have an ongoing series, so here's a little info about it. It started as a request and quickly grew into a multichapter fic (the longest one I've ever created!) The reader is Whitebeard's Daughter, who has a volcano devil fruit ability and who has been away for two years, only to return and meet a familiar spunky fire user. There's nineteen chapters before this, so you might want to go read those first for some background information, but we've just entered the start of what leads to the Marineford arc, so things are about to get real. It's a commitment, but I believe it's worth it if you're looking for a character-centric in-depth story!

If you're keeping up with the story, releases will be on Monday and Thursday unless I say otherwise!

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.5k

You were fairly certain you were about to die. Jinx hadn’t left you alone for days. Jinx, who couldn’t stand you or your presence. Jinx, who only saw you as competition from the moment Ace saved her from that stupid box and she claimed him as her own. 

That cat had hated you from the moment it saw you. But now she was curled up on your chest, sleeping soundly. You could’ve sworn she was just waiting for the moment your heart stopped, so she could boastfully sit atop your corpse. That’s just how Jinx was. 

You couldn’t blame her; you were an easy target right now. The Spring ecosystem you were in had completely messed with your allergies. It was only a matter of time before she would be able to smother you and completely get away with murder. Some days you were so sick, you couldn’t even get out of bed to go throw up. Today was one of those days. 

You were sick from allergies and sick with worry. It was one day past due for Thatch to report back to the ship before the crew would have to send in a second team. He could’ve been caught, or killed, or tied up and made a mockery of. You had plenty of time to think about it, since you were basically bedridden at this point. 

You were certain the commanders and strategists were all thinking of a plan to go find out what had occurred, but it would take at least two days to mobilize them. And in that time, Thatch could be taken away or sunk to the bottom of the ocean. It hurt to breathe just thinking about it.

The door opened quietly, and you heard Ace’s voice from the doorframe. “Are you awake?” he whispered. “I have someone here for you.”

“I’m awake,” you said, your voice scratchy and raw. You almost got your hopes up about the visitor, but Ace sounded solemn, which was a good indicator that the visitor wasn’t Thatch.

Marco stepped inside instead, and you groaned at his appearance. “Just let me die, Marco. Leave me alone.”

He hummed, frowning over your body as you laid in bed. “I’d really like to run some tests,” Marco said. “The concept of fever and colds are completely foreign to your body, and yet something is clearly off. You shouldn’t be this sick for so long.”

“Or maybe the substitute cook has been cooking so badly he gave me food poisoning that’s lasted the past two weeks,” you shot back. “I want Thatch back.”

“I know.” Marco sat down on the bed next to you. “He’ll be home soon. In the meantime, let me get some bloodwork to check out.”

“No,” you hissed, pulling your arm away from him. “I told you, it’s just allergies.”

Marco looked at you with skepticism. He knew that it wasn’t just allergies, and you did too. 

“Allergies don’t make people throw up,” he reminded you gently. 

“Worry does,” you argued. “And so does food poisoning. So leave me alone.”

“If you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m taking your blood by force,” Marco said, getting up and heading for the door. He gave Ace a knowing look, as if to say “Good luck!” and then left you two alone. 

Marco had dealt with your varieties of illnesses over the years, and he knew you were too stubborn and whiny to listen to any of his advice. But for Ace, this was relatively new territory. You had been sick a few times over the past few months, but it had never been anything serious. Not like this. But you had been sick with worry ever since Thatch left. Something just didn’t feel right about this mission. 

Ace laid down next to you and began to brush your matted hair from your face, but instantly pulled back. 

He scowled at you. “I know you’re upset and want to be alone, but you don’t have to burn me.”

“I’m tired and I want to rest,” you groaned, turning away from him in bed. “Just let me sleep for a little bit, please?”

Ace sighed and got up from the bed. It was clear Marco must’ve given him some pointers. 

“I’ll let you know if I hear any news about Thatch, okay?”

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying your best to sound normal. 

The door opened and with a soft click of the door handle, he was gone. 

You hadn’t meant to burn him, but you couldn’t let him know that. Your powers had been a little haywire recently. You were overloaded on stress and high emotions, and though you had thought you had gotten that mostly under control, it seemed that your powers sometimes had a mind of their own. 

You’d be more concerned about it, but you were so damn tired that you fell asleep before you had time to think too hard. 

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but you woke again to Ace’s voice, jostling you awake.

“Y/N,” he whispered, shaking you lightly. “Thatch is back.”

You sat up immediately, looking around the room. The sudden motion made Jinx hiss and bolt away from you, but you didn’t care. At least she was acting normal again.

“Where?” you asked. 

“Out on the deck.”

You jumped up, ignoring the queasy feeling in your gut, and took off towards the deck. As you emerged, the setting sun illuminated the ship in a golden glow. You scanned the ship, desperately searching for him. He was here, somewhere. He had to be. 

And then you found him, his pompadour hair making him stand out from the crowd. 

“Thatch!” You screamed, running towards him. 

His eyes moved over to you and he broke out into a massive grin, holding his arms open to catch you. 

You slammed into him with such force, the two of you almost fell to the ground. But he kept you steady, like he always did. You did your best to keep the tears out of your eyes, but you were so relieved that he was okay. 

“I told you I’d be back,” he said, rubbing your back.

“You’re late,” you sobbed into his chest. “You promised two weeks.”

“Will you forgive me?”

You pulled away from him, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I guess I can this time. Just don’t do it again.”

He smiled and gave you a nod. “Yes ma’am. You have my word.”

You had been so happy to see him, you hadn’t realized he had come back with a prize. 

“You found a devil fruit?” you asked, looking at it skeptically.

“I did!” Thatch grinned, holding it out for you to see. “Take a look!”

You took the fruit from him and examined it. It was a small purple fruit that looked relatively unimpressive. There was no real indication of what it did exactly. But still, finding a devil fruit was a great feat, even on the Grand Line. 

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked, still checking it over for any indication of what it could be. 

“Not sure yet,” Thatch admitted. “I’m not sure I want to lose my ability to swim, especially if it’s a lame power. I might just sell it.”

You nodded. “There’s no good way to tell what it does, really. Probably better selling it than taking a risk for a lame power.”

“Pretty cool though, huh?!” He stood proud and tall. 

“You’ve got color again!” Marco called, walking over to the two of you. “She was sick with worry, you know.”

Thatch laughed and pulled you in for another hug. “It was definitely a challenge. You were right, we were better off taking a few members from Division Two. But we made it work.”

“I knew you would,” you said, giving him a tight squeeze. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from you and addressing the crowd. “Let’s eat!”

He took his devil fruit back from you and headed for the kitchen. Your appetite was back now that your cook was back. All felt right with the world. 

“You look better,” Ace said, grabbing your hand with his own. 

“I feel better,” you admitted. “God, I was so nervous. It feels so silly looking back on it.”

Ace pulled you in, dropping a sweet kiss on your lips that tasted like cinnamon. 

You pulled away from him, grinning giddily. “Did the commanders do Welcome Back shots?”

Ace gave a nervous laugh. “Maybe two or three,” he admitted. “You weren’t the only one who was nervous today.”

That was a little bit of a relief. Everyone else had kept such cool demeanors, you were worried you had been overreacting. But everyone had been nervous, they were all just better at hiding it. But now the anxiety that had covered the ship was nothing but a fading memory.

“Let's go eat,” you said, pulling him along with you. You were excited to finally have food that agreed with your stomach again, and finally felt like you could eat in peace.

--

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[demi-shoggoth]

2024 Reading Log, pt 2

006. Gardening Can Be Murder by Marta McDowell. I honestly thought that this book was going to be about something else. With the subtitle “how poisonous plants, sinister shovels and grim gardens have inspired mystery writers”, I thought it was going to be about, you know, that. True crime themed to gardens, discussions of poisonous plants, that sort of thing. The book is actually about the mystery books that have gardening as a theme. And while the author’s dedication to not spoiling anything (seriously, anything, even 150 year old stories like The Moonstone or “Rappacini’s Daughter”) is admirable in its own way, this leaves the book feeling like endless buildup without any payoff. Big fans of murder mysteries might enjoy this—especially the last chapter, which interviews writers about their gardens—but I found it more boring than anything else, and finished it only because it was very short.

007. Antimony, Gold and Jupiter’s Wolf by Peter Wothers. This book is about how the elements got their names, and most of it deals with the early modern period, as alchemy transitioned to chemistry and then into the 19th century, when chemistry was a real science, but things like atomic theory were not yet understood. The book goes into fascinating detail, and has a lot of quotes from primary sources, as scientists then were just like scientists now, that is, opinionated and bickering with each other over their preferred explanations. And names! Many of the splits between elements and their symbols (like Na for sodium) are due to compromise attempts to appease two different factions with their preferred names. A book covering arcane minutia of history always has the risk of feeling like a slog, but this is a fast and fun read.

008. Doctor Dhrolin’s Dictionary of Dinosaurs by Nathan T Barling and Michael O’Sullivan, illustrations by Mark P Witton. This book is an odd concept, but one that I was immediately on board with—a D&D book written by paleontologists with the intention of bringing accurate and interesting stats for prehistoric reptiles to the game. The fact that it’s mostly illustrated by Mark Witton definitely clinched my backing that Kickstarter. And this book is a lot of fun. So much so, that I read it all in a single sitting. I don’t know how accurate the stats are (like, a Hatzegopteryx has a higher CR than titanosaurs or T. rexes), but they seem like they’d be fun in play, and the writing does a good job of combining fantasy fun with actual education. Even for someone not running a 5e game, the stuff on how to run animals as not killing machines, and the mutation tables, could be useful. There are multiple types of playable dinosaurs, all of which seem like they’d work well at the table and avoid typical stereotypes, and a lot of in-jokes and pop culture references (like the cursed staff of unspared expense, which looks like Hammond’s cane in the Jurassic Park movie).

009. Romaine Wasn’t Built in a Day by Judith Tschann. I’m a sucker for books about etymology. And this one, on food etymology, is a pretty breezy read. I had fun with it, and it even busted some misconceptions that I had, etymologically speaking. Like, there’s no evidence that “bloody” as an explicative originated from “God’s blood”? Wild. Etymology books tend to be written in a sort of stream-of-consciousness style, where talking about one word may lead down a garden path to the next one. The book also has a couple of little matching quizzes, which is something I haven’t seen in a book since like the 90s.

010. The Lives of Octopuses and their Relatives by Danna Staaf. I was previously a little disappointed in The Lives of Beetles, another book in this series, but I knew I liked Staaf, who wrote the excellent book Squid Empire about cephalopod evolution and paleontology. I’m pleased to report that this book is also excellent. Staaf takes the “lives” part seriously, and the book is arranged by ecology, looking at different marine habitats, the challenges that they pose to living things, and the cephalopods that live there. Cuttlefish get slightly short shrift in this book compared to squids and octopuses, but that’s about the biggest complaint I had. I like how the species profiles cover more obscure taxa, and information about the best studied (like Pacific giant octopus and Humboldt squid) is kept to the chapters.

[theballadofmars]

RANKING MDZS CHARACTERS AS HOW MUCH I THINK THEY WOULD SURVIVE IN FNAF:

11. MO XUANYU: he dies during the first five minutes. Don't know how. He just does.

10. JIN ZIXUAN: he doesn't listen AT ALL to Phone Guy and just...doesn't do a thing? He probably thinks he's too rich to die.

9. JIANG CHENG: he dies the first night. Just, sorry. He wouldn't follow Phone Guy's instructions at all, or try at the beginning but then gets mad and fights the animatronics. Sorry jc you're not winning this one.

8. NIE MINGJUE: he's not fucking surviving more than 2 nights, I'm sorry. He doesn't know how anything works, he survives the first night by sheer stuborness, but gets out of luck on his second night. He dies fighting thought.

7. XIAO XINGCHENG: he actually gets to the second night, but his problem is that he tries to help the children to move on and, unlike lxc, he gets killed.

6. SON LANG: survives 4 nights, but gets bitten by an animatronic and dies from the injury. He's the only other character who makes it to night 4 this is so funny mdzs character's would be amazing at surviving or terrible.

5. WEI WUXIAN: he ALMOST survives, but he gets scooped in night 5. Idk how, because this is based in fnaf 1, but he gets scooped, 100% sure.

4. LAN WANGJI: is lwj. He doesn't involve himself in the drama like his brother, but is able to survive the 5 nights. Never comes back.

3. LAN XICHEN: weird position, because lxc doesn't look like he would be the best with computers, but he's a Lan. He's not only going to survive the 5 nights, he also saves the souls of the murder children, because he would try to talk to the animatronics and give them therapy sesions.

2. NIE HUAISANG: he actually suffers the first night, because he doesn't know what's going on. The second night tought? He already knows the cheats. He survives and as a plus makes a theory about the lore that it turns out to be true.

1. JIN GUANGYAO: listen, LISTEN. He not only survives the five nights, the extra night and the 20/20 mood. He's jgy. Being a night guard at Freddy's is actually a vacation for him. Animatronics aren't worse than rich people. He even gets bored at night 5.

HONORARY MENTIONS FOR CHARACTERS WHO DOESN'T GET TO BE IN THE RANKING BECAUSE THEY'RE A SPECIAL CASE:

-XUE YANG: this fucker messes with the animatronics ans disassembles them for fun. The animatronics are the ones hiding from him.

-THE FOUR JUNIORS + A-QING: they are the kids possesing the animatronics. Sorry juniors :(

-YANLI: befriends the animatronics somehow. She makes them soup :D

-MIAN MIAN: stays one night, survives, never comes back. They don't pay her enough for this bullshit.

-WANGXIAN: they fuck in the security office and the animatronics are traumatized.

-WEN QING: finds the bodies of the kids and reports it do the police

-WEN NING: look, I think he would get springlocked but wouldn't become a vengative animatronic (unless he's possesed). He's just there behind a wall.

-LAN QIRENG: survives because Lan power, but instead of doing his job as a security guard starts to reprimend the animatronics and tries to teach them THE RULES.

Tgcf characters ranking

[devilsrecreation]

Outlander incorrect quotes part 5426 (jk idek how many there are now)

Kion: You cannot deny that you trespass into the Pridelands almost every day!

Janja: YOU CANNOT DENY DEEZ NUTS!

Janja: Me and my boys are gonna mess you up!

Chungu: I rolled a 1

Cheezi: I rolled a 1

Janja: Fuck-

Kenge: I’m going to need a skull and I can’t have you ask any questions

Sumu: *shows Kenge his skull collection* Take your pick

Kenge:

Sumu:

Kenge: This one’s fine

Reirei: I got to get back before Goigoi realizes I’m not in bed

Goigoi: Reirei?…..REIREI😭😭😭

Janja: I kissed Jasiri!

Chungu: Woah….

Cheezi: We owe Nne and Tano so much money!

Every time the two-leggers come to the Outlands

Nduli: The most obvious two-leg trap I have ever seen

Tamka: I’m gonna touch it!

Nduli: NO TAMKA, YOU’RE GONNA GET KIDNAPPED

Piga (Kiburi’s son): We never should have come in the Badlands

Bingwa: No guts, no glory

Piga: Are you ever scared of anything?

Bingwa: Yeah, dying alone. That’s why I brought you here

Makuu, talking about Ucheshi: We need to find my mate. I’m worried about her

Fuli: Seriously, what do you see in her?

Makuu: She makes me laugh

Human au:

Tamka: Neema, what am I gonna do to lose all this weight?!

Neema: [Stop inventing things like cheesecake pizza]

Teaching the Idiots how to act around royalty:

Mzingo: One should bow gracefully and say: “My dear Queen, how delightful to meet your acquaintance.”

Goigoi: *bows* My queer deen, how delightful to aquaint your maintenance!

If Scar met my oc’s

Scar: When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to see out of both eyes

Kiatu: Congratulations, you are as effective as pollen.

Scar: I MEAN I’m going to make you feel pain!

Nguvu: Rabies already does that. Next

Scar: You won’t be able to think straight!

Ucheshi: Try being looney.

Scar: I’M GOING TO BASH YOUR HEAD INTO A WALL!

Kifo: That’s already happened to me. Come on, be creative!

Scar: I’M GONNA MAKE YOU WANT TO DIE!

Wakali: I’m a part of Gen Z! You’re late to the party!

Scar: WHAT INTIMIDATES YOU?!

Aibu: The skinks!

The Outlanders in an escape room

Jasiri: We need to find a murder weapon. It’s been a while since I’ve played clue

Reirei: We found a rope!

Mzingo: Rope…revolver…

Kiburi: There’s a dagger…

Janja: And a banana!

Reirei: There’s no banana!

Janja: Then why did they give me a banana?

Reirei: How do you kill someone with a banana, Janja?

Janja: Maybe they’re allergic!

Kiburi: Who’s allergic to bananas?

Janja: Lot of people

Mzingo: Name one

Janja: NO

The Outlanders in an escape room part 2:

Janja: Alright, fellas! I want you to spread out and look for clues

Chungu, Cheezi, Nne, and Tano: YOU GOT IT, BOSS!

Janja: Now get to it!

Cheezi: Janja! I found a door, Janja!

Janja: That’s a good report, Cheezi!

Chungu: *on the floor* Janja! I found the floor!

Janja: That’s terrible! Get off of that!

TLG writers: Have you ever heard the sound of a snake falling into lava?

Us fans: Uh uh

Writers: W O U L D Y O U L I K E T O???

[mariacallous]

Alexei Navalny returned to Russia in January 2021. Right before he boarded the plane, he posted a film titled “Putin’s Palace: The Story of the World’s Largest Bribe” on YouTube. The video, nearly two hours long, was an extraordinary feat of investigative reporting. Using secret plans, drone footage, 3-D visualizations, and the testimony of construction workers, Navalny’s video told the story of a hideous $1.3 billion Black Sea villa containing every luxury that a dictator could imagine: a hookah bar, a hockey rink, a helipad, a vineyard, an oyster farm, a church. The video also described the eye-watering costs and the financial trickery that had gone into the construction of the palace on behalf of its true owner, Vladimir Putin.

But the power of the film was not just in the pictures, or even in the descriptions of money spent. The power was in the style, the humor, and the Hollywood-level professionalism of the film, much of which was imparted by Navalny himself. This was his extraordinary gift: He could take the dry facts of kleptocracy—the numbers and statistics that usually bog down even the best financial journalists—and make them entertaining. On-screen, he was just an ordinary Russian, sometimes shocked by the scale of the graft, sometimes mocking the bad taste. He seemed real to other ordinary Russians, and he told stories that had relevance to their lives. You have bad roads and poor health care, he told Russians, because they have hockey rinks and hookah bars.

And Russians listened. A poll conducted in Russia a month after the video appeared revealed that one in four Russians had seen it. Another 40 percent had heard about it. It’s safe to guess that in the three years that have elapsed since then, those numbers have risen. To date, that video has been viewed 129 million times.

Navalny is now presumed dead. The Russian prison system has said he collapsed after months of ill health. Perhaps he was murdered more directly, but the details don’t matter: The Russian state killed him. Putin killed him—because of his political success, because of his ability to reach people with the truth, and because of his talent for breaking through the fog of propaganda that now blinds his countrymen, and some of ours as well.

He is also dead because he returned to Russia from exile in 2021, having already been poisoned twice, knowing he would be arrested. By doing so he turned himself from an ordinary Russian into something else: a model of what civic courage can look like, in a country that has very little of it. Not only did he tell the truth, but he wanted to do so inside Russia, where Russians could hear him. This is what I wrote at the time: “If Navalny is showing his countrymen how to be courageous, Putin wants to show them that courage is useless.”

That Putin still feared Navalny was clear in December, when the regime moved him to a distant arctic prison to stop him from communicating with his friends and his family. He had been in touch with many people; I have seen some of his prison messages, sent secretly via lawyers, policemen, and guards, just as Gulag prisoners once sent messages in Stalin’s Soviet Union. He remained the spirit behind the Anti-Corruption Foundation, a team of Russian exiles who continue to investigate Russian corruption and tell the truth to Russians, even from abroad. (I have served on the foundation’s advisory board.) Earlier this week, before his alleged collapse, he sent a Valentine’s Day message to his wife, Yulia, on Telegram: “I feel that you are there every second, and I love you more and more.”

Navalny’s decision to return to Russia and go to jail inspired respect even among people who didn’t like him, didn’t agree with him, or found fault with him. He was also a model for other dissidents in other violent autocracies around the world. Only minutes after his death was announced, I spoke with Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, the Belarusian opposition leader. “We are worried for our people too,” she told me. If Putin can kill Navalny with impunity, then dictators elsewhere might feel empowered to kill other brave people.

The enormous contrast between Navalny’s civic courage and the corruption of Putin’s regime will remain. Putin is fighting a bloody, lawless, unnecessary war, in which hundreds of thousands of ordinary Russians have been killed or wounded, for no reason other than to serve his own egotistical vision. He is running a cowardly, micromanaged reelection campaign, one in which all real opponents are eliminated and the only candidate who gets airtime is himself. Instead of facing real questions or challenges, he meets tame propagandists such as Tucker Carlson, to whom he offers nothing more than lengthy, circular, and completely false versions of history.

Even behind bars Navalny was a real threat to Putin, because he was living proof that courage is possible, that truth exists, that Russia could be a different kind of country. For a dictator who survives thanks to lies and violence, that kind of challenge was intolerable. Now Putin will be forced to fight against Navalny’s memory, and that is a battle he will never win.