#THEY MANAGED TO MAKE AN ADAM I NOT ONLY HATE BUT WOULD WANT TO MURDER MYSELF

[aspoonofsugar]

Hello. Been a while since I last sent an ask to you. I wanted your take on why Vaggie's wing design is different from the other Exorcists. If you look closely, before and after she regained her wings, she is the ONLY exorcist with a single stripe while everyone else (including Adam, I know he's not an Exorcist but still something I've noticed) only have one.

Hi!

Thank you for the ask :) I love Vaggie's design and there is so much to say about it!

Since discussing the whole design would probably need its own meta, I will just focus on the detail you mentioned: Vaggie's wings.

I think their unique pattern comes down to our girl never truly fitting in with the exorcists:

Vaggie: When I saw your face You made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place And it felt so good to be understood

She states Charlie makes her feel understood, which implies she never felt accepted by her previous clique. This makes sense, as the exorcists are a cult, which forces its members to repress their selves. In this context, Vaggie's single black line shows she is different in two ways.

1- The exorcists' black lines mirror Adam's white lines:

Both Adam and his soldiers share two lines per wing. However, the leader's are white, whereas his followers' are black. This difference in color marks the hierarchy within the organization. Adam is white and gold, whereas the exorcists are black and white/silver. He frames himself as superior and forces the girls to be weaker imitations. Well, even in such an environment Vaggie can't completely repress who she is. So, she only gets one line on her wings, which marks her as unfitting, strange and flawed. She does not completely conform to Adam's wishes.

2- The exorcists' black and white color scheme is a metaphor of their black and white morality. Lute is a perfect embodiment of it:

Lute: Angels don't make mistakes.

Vaggie, Lute and all their sisters are taught killing sinners is holy. Angels are good and demons are bad. No questions asked. Still, Vaggie can't accept this mentality and she dares to show pity:

This kicks off her arc, which is all about overcoming the white and black vision that was forced on her. She needs to integrate her shadows:

She sees her shadow covering a terrified child and lets him go. A moment later Lute's shadow looms over her before she is attacked. Vaggie has to reconcile she is both the terrifying exorcist and the wounded child. She is both angel (white) and sinner (black).

Our Hotel Manager's new wings are a physical representation of this integration:

Vaggie gains them, as she channels her energy into love and protection instead than hate and revenge. In particular, she learns to value her own life and survival:

Carmilla: Well, look at that. You might just survive this.

She makes a step into forgiveness and acceptance. The brainwashed victim and the murderous warrior start coming together into someone new and stronger: the real Vaggie. As a result:

Her new wings are silver and gray, rather than white and black

Her new wings have a single line, which is much paler compared to her original black one

In short, Vaggie's wings symbolize her ongoing process of integration with her repressed self. They showcase her evolution and growth into someone new. From pigeon to moth :P

At the same time, something else can be said about Vaggie's stripes. Not her wings' though, but her hair's. Vaggie's hair is shaped after her angelic wings and it has two stripes on it. This is an interesting detail and might symbolize Vaggie's inner desire to belong, either with her old group (the two stripes exorcists) or her new one (the Hazbin Hotel demons). So, she has hair, which:

Hides her scars and identity, as they cover her missing eye and the spot where her wings used to be

Highlights these same things, as her hair is stylized after angelic wings and Vaggie puts an X over her missing eye. It's no surprise that Carmilla easily guesses her identity:

Vaggie: Wait… you know I'm an exorcist? How? Carmilla: You have a giant X over your eye and wield an angelic spear. It's not rocket science.

Just some food for thought! What's sure is that Vaggie's struggle with her exorcist identity is far from over and it strongly impacts her appearance.

Thank you for the ask!

[stonebutchery]

i'm glad the unauthorized saw musical parody did a livestream show tonight because, watching it right now, i know that if i had waited to see it vip style in chicago this summer i would either have allowed my fight or flight to kick in and left mid-show or i would've dropped dead in the theater due to the demon core levels of cringe radiating off of the stage

[horrorvillaintourney]

HORROR'S NEXT TOP GENDER, ROUND THREE MATCH NINE: Amanda Young (Saw) vs. Adam/The Monster (Frankenstein)

PROPAGANDA FOR AMANDA:

"my girlboything with horrible haircuts, patron saint of merciless forgiveness, she's my boyfriend and my wife and her voice makes me see angels. she's butchfemme ("what, both at once?" yes.) and hates men. she's killed at least three cops."

"She's so very trans girl coded imo. she also managed to pull off that dubious haircut in saw X, and that alone is a powerful feat of gender. I get gender envy from her and I'm not even remotely a girl thats how gender she is"

PROPAGANDA FOR ADAM:

"Isn't their whole story about being brought into this world anew, fully formed, and then near immediately scorned by his creator because of one minute detail within, that he couldn't change? Isn't there something to be said about having to go out into the wilderness, only because of the consequences of your birth? I mean, i could go on about the inherent transgenderism of making a body in the first place but DAMN there is something to be said about the OG "making a body" story."

"While Frankenstein uses male pronouns for the creature, viewing the creature as a reflection of himself, the creature does not and the authors note from mary shelley refers to the creature with it/its. In addition, the creature is repeatedly paralleled with the female characters. Justine and the creature share similar experiences of having a same-sex creator who rejects them, neglects them, and insults them, but while Justine is able to find a home and recover the creature never is. They’re additionally tied together through Justine being blamed for William’s murder despite the creature being the real killer. Then later, the creature parallels itself to Safie. We call it the creature because that’s how it refers to itself, and while he refers to other people as “humans” to place distance between it and them, it takes a special liking to Safie and refers to it as a “creature” aswell. It takes this fascination to mean its attracted to women and should have a female companion and while that may be true i think theres a level of identification through the other it doesnt realize. Also something something base theme of the creature wants love and acceptance but cant get it because its society and creator are intolerant of it and view it as being agaisnt both nature and god. [...] TLDR I think if you brought Frankensteins monster into modern day it would choose to be some flavor of transfem or demigirl because it naturally relates to women while its masculine identity was forced upon it by its creator"

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Adam Ruzek x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: one of your worst nightmares becomes reality when you find yourself stuck on a ferris wheel. And what makes everything worse, with the person you hate most… Or at least that's what you thought.

• Warnings: maybe few curse words

• Word count: 3,7K.

• A/N: hope you enjoy it! Comment, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated, I love you all <3

A thousand thoughts ran through your brain but all of them ended the same way.

How the hell did I end up in this situation?

Fate must’ve played some tricks, you must’ve committed some crime in your past life because there must’ve been a serious reason why you had found yourself stuck on a damn Ferris wheel. Suspended in the air.

There had to be a reason, because what were the odds that the Ferris wheel would stuck in mid-air just when it was your turn to take a ride.

And there had to be an equally precise reason why, among so many people, it was Adam Ruzek you were stuck with.

God probably hated you, there was no other explanation, he wanted to take revenge for some wrong things you had done and make atonement for your sins.

Why the fuck did you let yourself be convinced to get in that damned killing machine? Whose brilliant idea was it? And why with Adam among everyone?

That evening you had decided to go to a fair with your friends and some of your colleagues including Adam, Jay, Vanessa, Kim and Hailey, a good opportunity to spend time together without there being any robbery or murder to solve.

The atmosphere was light, the fair was overflowing with people who couldn't wait to try all the attractions there. Somehow you managed to avoid everything that required going ‘up’ but couldn’t escape the damn Ferris wheel.

The queue was very long and you had tried several times to escape but the words of your friends convinced you to at least make an attempt since it was quiet and the ride wouldn't last more than five minutes.

The entire Ferris wheel consisted of five small cabins that could accommodate a maximum of two people at a time and you couldn’t even ask to any of them, that the pairs had already been formed and you and Adam found yourselves exchanging annoyed glances, both being the only ones left.

You didn't ignore the giggles and looks your friends sent to both of you, making you realize they had deliberately done it to let you and Adam be alone.

Your relationship with him was, well… Weird, to say at least.

The bickering between you two was the order of the day, there was nothing you said that he didn't laugh at, making fun of you at every chance he got. That man could zap every single nerve in your body and drive you crazy with just one word and you hated him for that.

And the fact you were tremendously attracted to him despite this didn't work in your favor.

He was equally attracted to you, which is why one night – dead drunk – you ended up in his bed and woke up the next day with feelings of guilt and shame and pretended you didn't even know each other. This however didn’t last long as he wasted no time in returning to bother you and argue, making your life at work a living hell.

Adam drove you crazy, he always managed to confuse you, especially when he went from wanting to argue to making sexual jokes and flirting with you and then go back to arguing in a small amount of time.

You hated him, you hated how he made you feel and you hated yourself even more because despite this you couldn't help but be deeply attracted to him, to the point that everyone – both colleagues and your friends – did nothing but tease you and do everything to get you and Adam together, claiming to stop acting stupid because you both clearly wanted each other.

And that's how you ended up stuck on a damn Ferris wheel with the person you most wanted to be away from, about to have a panic attack.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered to yourself when everything stopped suddenly. You looked around, realizing with horror you were several meters above the ground, suspended in mid-air in a cabin that continued to oscillate with every slightest gust of wind.

You pressed your back against the seat, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, feeling the panic starting to build up inside you.

Saying you were absolutely terrified of heights was an understatement.

Adam, however, remained impassive, only huffing at the annoyance of having to be stuck there and rolled his eyes when he noticed your eyes were closed and you refused to open them. “Oh don't be dramatic now. It’s just a stupid Ferris wheel, we’ll get down soon.”

“Adam just shut the fuck up if you don't have anything smart to say,” you spat through clenched teeth, a mix of emotions between pure terror and anger coursing through you.

Adam chuckled, clearly amused by the situation. “Our little detective is afraid of heights isn't she?”.

He looked at you carefully and saw you open your eyelids as you looked up at the ceiling and continued to take deep breaths. You didn't answer him, that's why he decided continuing to tease you was great idea.

“Stop being a pussy and enjoy the view instead. Don't think I like the idea of being stuck with you either.”

Adam didn't really mean it, he wasn't really mad at you, he just madly loved making you angry and teasing you until you’d explode. You were so hot and sexy when you were angry and all worked up, he couldn't help himself even though he was aware he was being an asshole 99% of the time.

He ignored the part of his conscience that told him this was just a way to get you to stay away from him because he didn't have the strength to do it, because for some absurd reason you attracted him like a moth was attracted to the light.

He tried to convince himself it was just physical attraction, although he knew full well what he felt for you was deeper than that.

But this time you didn't respond to any of his taunts, your fear too strong to even think about what he said.

Adam continued to look at you and noticed the way your chest rose and fell quickly, your breathing was frantic, your hands continued to shake despite being clenched into fists, your gaze fixed on the ceiling. The smirk he had plastered on his face slowly disappeared when he realized it wasn't just a little fear, you were completely terrified.

“You okay?” He tried to ask you stupidly. It was clear you weren’t okay at all.

Anxiety was hardly twisting your stomach you feared you’d vomit on his shoes at any moment. Nausea was paralyzing you and the dizziness made your head spin so much you thought you’d pass out right then and there.

You didn't know why you were so afraid of heights, why the fear paralyzed you to the point you couldn't move a muscle and made your heart beat so fast it almost stopped. You just wanted to go down and put your feet on dry land and kill whoever had convinced you to get on that thing.

“Y/n. You hear me?!” Adam's urgent voice brought you back to reality for a moment. You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes which you kept opening and closing in an attempt to calm yourself a bit.

Adam realized you were about to have a panic attack so without even thinking twice, he knelt down in front of you and placed his hands on your knees, worried. “Hey look at me.”

But you couldn't seem to hear him, your body was there but your mind had flown away.

“Y/n look at me please,” he continued, but kept his voice calm so as not to make the situation worse. You opened your eyes and looked at him, too anxious and terrified to realize what he was doing. His eyes shone as they looked at you with concern, making you think for a few seconds how rare that way of looking at you was.

“Breathe with me okay?” He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “Let's do this together, breathe with me. Breathe in…” he said “C’mon, you can do it angel. I’m here with you.”

Your eyes let out some tears and he raised a hand, gently wiping them away and making you lose your mind even more.

“It's okay, you're not alone. I'm right here.”

Was this man really Adam Ruzek? The same Adam who made your life impossible? The same obnoxious Adam?

You couldn’t believe it but you were too scared to react.

“C’mon, breathe with me,” he smiled faintly to encourage you and you nodded, starting to inhale deeply and following him, letting the air out of your lungs.

Your eyes never left each other for a second as he stayed there with you making you take deep breaths, slowly getting your breathing back to a normal pace.

“You're doing great, just keep going,” he murmured as he continued to look at you and smile comfortingly. His thumbs caressed your knees and for some strange, absurd reason this gesture comforted you more than the breathing exercises you had done up until that moment.

“Everything will be fine you hear me? They'll start this piece of junk again and we'll get out of here before you know it. Nothing will happen, you’re safe,” he spoke as his eyes scanned your facial features carefully. He tried to ignore how beautiful you were under those lights, you were so breathtaking and he couldn't stop looking at you. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

What the hell?

I won't let anything happen to you? Really Adam?

You remained silent for a few moments as your blurry eyes got lost in his. You wanted so much to be able to read inside him, to know what he thought, how he felt as he looked at you but you couldn't. God, that man was such a mystery.

You knew he was telling you those things just to make you calm down but you couldn't help but wonder if deep down he really meant those words. For an instant you convinced yourself he did, your heart wanted to think for just a second he had feelings for you.

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to stop the thoughts that tortured his mind at the moment. His expression seemed calm, but an exhausting battle between was taking place inside him.

He struggled between the desire to have you, to just kiss you right there, and the desire to stay away from you because you truly were the most annoying person on the planet sometimes.

He looked away as he sat next to you on that narrow seat no longer able to maintain eye-contact without fear of doing or saying something stupid.

A sudden gust of wind made the small cabin sway considerably, plunging you into complete panic again and almost making your heart stop beating.

A scream of terror escaped you and before you even realized it, you threw yourself into Adam's arms, looking for some kind of protection.

Adam was a little taken aback at first, not expecting this in any way but he returned that hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and holding you tightly to him as his fingers caressed you in an attempt to calm you down.

“Shh it's okay, it was just a little wind. We're fine,” he whispered to you, mentally praying you couldn't hear how hard his heart was beating. That was the first time you had hugged in the years you had known each other and he was about to lose his mind.

“Adam, p-please… I want to get off…” you muttered desperately, your face pressed against his chest as you trembled like a leaf.

His heart sank at the sight. You had always been so strong and brave in his eyes, as if nothing could affect you, so seeing you in that state caused him a sensation he hated, and that he was sure he’d never want to feel again in his life.

“Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here okay? You’ll be fine, they’re all working to get us all down. I promise it’ll be over soon,” he whispered, stroking your arms and tightening his grip around you even more. “Talk to me, don't shut yourself down.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Anything you want, just focus on me.”

You thought about it for a second and told him the first thing that came to mind. “At one point I thought about throwing you off this damn Ferris wheel.”

His chest vibrated as he laughed and you found yourself smiling back, turning serious right back when you realized what you were doing.

Your mind had decided to turn itself off when you realized what was happening: you were hugging Adam and the thing shocked you the most was that you felt really good in his arms. In other moments you probably would’ve walked away but right then you didn't want to think about it, he managed to calm you down and you needed it.

Adam leaned his head against yours, the skin of his cheek slightly pinched by your hair as he involuntarily inhaled the scent of it.

God what am I doing?

What are you doing to me Y/n?

“Well, now is a good time if you want.”

“Don't tempt me, I could actually do it and plead insanity.”

You then took a deep breath as your heartbeat returned to a normal pace and the agitation slowly passed. For the first time since you'd met, you and Adam were able to have a conversation where neither of you let out insults or threatened to put a bullet in the other's foot.

You couldn't understand how much time had passed since the Ferris wheel had stopped but thanks to Adam you managed not to think about it as he talked to you the whole time to keep you distracted.

“Can I ask you a question?” You dared to ask after a small moment of silence. You were still sitting next to each other, his arms around you and your head resting on his chest and you were almost afraid to move, fearing he’d let you go if you did.

“Hmm,” he hummed positively as his eyes looked around the cabin.

“Why do you hate me?” You asked in a voice so low you feared he hadn't heard you, your breath caught in your throat.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I don't hate you... Well yes, but I hate you because you hate me and because you’ve been an asshole since the first day I joined the team.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. C’mon...”

“Adam,” you interrupted him with firm tone.

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, maybe just a little bit.”

“And why? I don't think I've ever done anything to you.”

Silence reigned supreme for a few seconds while he reflected on your words, his eyes observing the metallic ceiling.

Why did he hate you?

He had asked himself this many times but he had never been able to give himself an answer. He didn't know the real reason, you were right, you had never done anything to him, you had always been kind to everyone from the first moment. But then why?

Maybe because it easier, maybe because he knew from the very beginning you were going to mess up his whole life so hating you was the best thing he could do to keep you away, to not let himself fall for you.

But however, this inevitably happened against the odds and his will.

You took courage and raised your head slightly to look at him and at that same moment his eyes met yours. You were incredibly close, closer than you ever would’ve been even if you were drunk.

His breath tickled your lips as his eyes looked at you with so much intensity so felt like a thousand-volt electrical discharge went though your body, as if he was somehow trying to read your soul.

What the hell are you thinking about Adam?

His eyes were so hard to read, so enigmatic. They were like a puzzle and you struggled to find the necessary pieces to be able to complete it and understand what he was thinking and feeling.

He moved his gaze between your eyes and your lips, trying to maintain a neutral expression even if every cell in his body screamed to close that little gap and press his lips to yours.

But he couldn't, especially not at that moment.

And, above all, why did he think ‘not at that moment’? Did this mean he actually wanted to kiss you?

It was a question he didn't even try to answer, his mind was too clouded to think logically.

One of his hands moved to your face and with a gentleness you struggled to recognize he caressed your cheek, fixing some small, messy locks of hair. Your breathing stopped and your heart started wildly pounding again, this time not because of the dizziness and the fear of falling down.

You were paralyzed under his intense and magnetic gaze, you wanted so much to be able to say something, to break that deafening silence but the words inevitably died in your throat.

He continued to alternate his gaze between your eyes and your lips, you actually unaware of the internal battle he was eagerly fighting.

Anyone who saw you two would think this was just a romantic moment that a couple in love was sharing, anyone could see the way you both looked at each other and no one would’ve doubted you actually hated each other.

Or at least that's what you thought.

You thought you hated him.

You forced yourself to do it, as if to reciprocate his hatred, because of the way he treated you.

But you didn't hate him, not as much as you wanted to. Sure, he made your blood boil in your veins like very few other people in the world did, there were countless times when you would’ve punched him in the face after some of his pranks, but you couldn't deny how much you desired that man just as intensely.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered as he continued to covertly caress your face. Suddenly, however, he moved his hand away, making you instantly feel the feeling of emptiness and cold that his touch had left. His fingers trailed down to your hand, still clenched into a fist without realizing it.

“What are you thinking?” You whispered back as you saw his lips part slightly. His fingers lightly caressed your skin, almost as imperceptibly as he had done to your cheek and you relaxed almost instantly, making you subconsciously hate yourself for the way your body responded so easily to him.

“Don't answer a question with another question.” His lips lifted into a small smirk and your heart simultaneously came out of your rib cage and crashed onto the asphalt.

His fingers played with yours for a while, his fingertips dragging over your skin, as if studying every feature and little imperfection. Your stomach twisted on itself as he intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your hand, drawing little imaginary circles on it with his thumb.

“Says the one who still haven't answered my initial question,” you replied in the same mischievous tone.

“Touché,” he chuckled “I guess… I just think it was easier.”

You frowned a little bit and he refrained himself from kiss it away.

“Easier?”.

He didn't answer this question, leaving it still hanging in the air. But the he leaned even closer to you, almost imperceptibly but when his lips lightly brushed yours, you forgot what that question was and even your damn name. “Push me away angel.”

You didn't do it even though you knew you had to.

Your brain was aware of it but your body couldn't move, instead it continued to crave his touch, his mouth on yours.

“Why?” you whispered as you brushed your lips against his again, and again, until every part of you exploded in desire and passion.

Were you going to regret it? Probably yes, but in that moment you couldn't care less, you were too caught up and overwhelmed by the hurricane that was Adam Ruzek to be able to think rationally.

“Because I might do something stupid…” he breathed out, having a hard time to keep control of himself, his hands tightening their grip on you. “Fuck… You drive me crazy.”

His lips continued brushing yours, this time in such a way you felt like you were being swallowed up by a hurricane and spat out and then thrown forcefully against a truck. Only a millimeter was missing, just a single one for the kiss you were both waiting and desiring so intensely.

You were both waiting for one of you to pull back, to realize the stupid thing you were about to do but neither of you did, even though you both knew if you crossed this line there would be no turning back. You had already crossed this line, sure, but you actually didn't remember a thing from the night you ended up in his bed.

There would be no alcohol or liquor to blame this time, just your stupid minds and bodies that didn't want to be apart from each other.

However a sudden thud made you literally jump and suddenly move away from him, panic starting to take over again as you feared your time had come. Nevertheless as soon as you realized the Ferris wheel was finally unblocked and it had started to rotate again, you let out a sigh of relief.

When you finally reached the ground, you came out of that cabin at the speed of light, almost bursting into tears when you realized it was really over.

Your gaze followed Adam for a moment, who started talking and laughing with Jay and Kim as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't been about to kiss you until a few moments before.

Your friends were talking to you and asking how you were but your mind was completely elsewhere, still stuck in the moment when you were so close to him and about to kiss.

His eyes met yours for a moment. He looked at you with such intensity that your knees almost buckled, a little smirk on his lips making your heart drop with anticipation and that was probably the first time you were able to understand his unspoken words.

Whatever happened up there wasn't over.

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[yanderes-galore]

Hi can I request Yandere Vanessa(and vanny) with a younger sister darling?I looked up when Security Breach takes place and it said 2023-2029 so we are like 18-19 year old?

I'll try, here you go.

Yandere! Platonic! Vanessa/Vanny with Younger Sister! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Trauma, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Kidnapping/Isolation, Forced companionship/family dynamic.

Honestly, a younger sibling may be perfect for her to keep her company.

This would give her someone to talk to, especially since she's shown to be lonely and dealing with all sorts of mental trauma.

Vanessa is in her 20's, I believe she's 22.

So yes, you could still be a little sister at like 18-19.

What may be easier is if you and Vanessa both work at the Pizzaplex.

Maybe she got you a job there so she could keep an eye on her little sister.

Plus, extra money doesn't seem so bad for the both of you.

Her behavior would certainly change between Vanessa and Vanny.

Let's do Vanessa first.

Vanessa often wants you around her during work, day shift and night shift.

She makes it so your shifts are nearly always the same.

She really hates being away from you.

Vanessa speaks about her interests with you and is sure the animatronics keep you safe when she isn't around.

You often speak of fashion and puppies as she likes them.

She also eagerly listens to what you like.

You won't have to worry about being hurt, she keeps a close eye on you and has you registered in the system.

Vanessa seems like she'd be teasing with you, essentially having you distract her from the evident mental issues she has.

Vanessa feels less anxious around you and actually feels happier.

She loves you as her sister and has vowed to herself to protect you no matter what happens.

Due to being conditioned by Glitchtrap as a teen, she probably ends up calling you her "little bunny".

It's a nickname, she loves to call you bunny.

She finds it as cute as you, her little sister.

You haven't minded the nickname, although you wish she didn't use it during work often.

You swear some of the animatronics call you that at times as they hear her calling you it.

Vanessa herself is rather normal.

She has a tendency to be overprotective and clings around you, yet there's nothing violent.

She's... just your sister, one you love very much.

Then there's Vanny... the true manifestation of her more violent thoughts.

This version of your sister is more playful and childish, only coming out during the night shift.

She's also fully capable of murder and violence... fully molded into what she is by Glitchtrap.

Honestly, you wouldn't know she was your sister at first.

She skips about the Pizzaplex, following you around during work.

You feel uneasy around the robots at the Pizzaplex when Vanny is around.

The band acts weird... the STAFF Bots seem to stare.

The red eyes of the rabbit gaze into you.

This version of your sister leans more into the nickname she calls you.

You're affectionately referred to as "bunny", "little bunny", "rabbit", "cottontail", etc.

That's a hint that you're dealing with someone you know.

Then soon Vanny drops the bomb... she's your sister.

You're terrified of her, the patchwork white rabbit stalking ever closer.

It's unknown if Vanny would actually hurt you... but I like to think she wouldn't.

Vanny would probably trap you in a room and never let you go.

She loves to hug you and call you nicknames.

Part of her wants to make you like her... to answer the orders of Glitchtrap and help her in her "job".

You're adamant on not doing that, making Vanny disappointed.

So instead... the white rabbit keeps you tied to a chair under her care.

If you managed to escape then Vanny will have every animatronic in the Pizzaplex hunt you down to bring you back to her.

She has control here... even as her sister you feel powerless.

In her eyes... this is still protecting you!

No one can hurt you if she's here to watch you.

If anyone did... well... it's not like she hasn't killed before, right?

She doesn't understand why you look so scared.

She's your sister!

If anything she's planned hours of fun for tonight...!

So much so you'll never want to leave.

[missheavenfield1215]

Beetlejuice The Musical Headcanons Pt 2

Hi again, guys!! This is a second part of my headcanons about the Broadway musical Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice didn't harass Lydia, because she was able to get away from him because of that.

Even though Beetlejuice was very inappropriate with the Maitlands when he first met them and seemed to have a preference for Adam, he genuinely doesn't know personal boundaries, but it doesn't mean he doesn't know that what he did was wrong...

We can agree that Lydia was the person who hurt Beetlejuice the most for the entire duration of the show. She is the only one who managed to betray beetlejuice THREE TIMES IN A ROW!

I honestly believed that in a way, he would also do something very small to Lydia, I mean make her uncomfortable in some way, you know, what Keaton's Beetlejuice did to Ryder in the original movie.

My theory is that Beetlejuice knows that touching people without their consent or invading their personal space is wrong, but being so lonely, he does it to vent his painful loneliness... But he knows that's wrong, and he knows that the Maitlands despise those inappropriate touches and despise him for doing so, too.

That's why I firmly believe that Beetlejuice refrained from touching Lydia in the same way as the Maitlands, (Even if we're talking about the person he loves the most) and he didn't make any inappropriate comments to her, because he didn't want to give Lydia reasons to abandon him or hate him.

I don't think Beetlejuice's clones are distorted representations of himself.

I think Beetlejuice has ADHD to some degree, but I don't think that's why all of his clones are physically different.

I agree that maybe Beetlejuice doesn't have the proper physical recognition to know every part of his being in detail. But I don't think ADHD makes you look like you're another race, or a different physical build...

It would be very strange if Beetlejuice never crossed the veil into the Netherworld, it is very likely that he has done so many MANY times, and he has encountered all kinds of people. Like Lauren Boebert, from whom he contracted Herpes, but perhaps, he found people who really liked him. But it is likely that they have abandoned him and as a sad reminder, Beetlejuice formed his clones based on these strangers who cheered his immortality at least a little.

Lydia is and was Beetlejuice's ONLY choice to get married.

"Beetlejuice could have chosen Delia once Lydia left... But he felt so betrayed, that he preferred to murder everyone, rather than even think about marrying someone else."

Because even though Lydia had already betrayed him once, Beetlejuice immediately looked at her, but once she left with her father, Charles, there was only one last woman left alive, Delia...

In fact, his plan could have gone better, since he could go after them. Beetlejuice may have threatened Delia to marry him, and bring Lydia and Charles back.

But when he feels that Lydia has betrayed him again, he immediately cries: "Why does everyone keep leaving me?!"

I think he could have chased her to the Netherworld, but for fear of meeting his mother, he didn't want to go.

But he didn't, Beetlejuice didn't use the absence of the father and daughter to extort Delia, I have a theory that, even a little, Beetlejuice came to love Lydia to suddenly accept her: "I don't want to go through life alone".

Well, I also want to emphasize that, he did believe Lydia, but not Charles, so Adam had to intervene.

I mean, Beetlejuice was willing to believe everything Lydia told him (and I'm pretty sure if Lydia told Beetlejuice that the moon is cheese, he'd believe her). But, yes, Beetlejuice could only believe Lydia.... Not Charles....

Adam had to intervene to make the charade make more sense...

Plus I feel like if Beetlejuice believed Lydia for all of her lies, he didn't believe Charles because BJ may have thought Charles had a plan to take her away from him. Not knowing that the whole plan was made by her...

And although Lydia became the most beloved person by the pinstripe suit demon, and even if she would take every opportunity to hurt him....

he's going to want to keep trying.

Lydia was able to make Beetlejuice give up the urge to murder.

We all know that Lydia has some power over Beetlejuice, being, apparently, the first person to "genuinely love him as a friend" and may have actually manipulated him into doing more things for her.

I'm sure that if Lydia had shown interest in helping him reform, he wouldn't have refused.

Beetlejuice isn't as bad as we think.

From the beginning, Beetlejuice wanted Lydia to agree to release him, but he NEVER lied to her.

Beetlejuice told him that they are a great team, and in the song "That Beautiful Sound", he really believed that they were kindred souls, and he believed that because of that they were already friends.

But think for a moment, if Beetlejuice had wanted to manipulate her, he would have inquired into the reasons why Lydia wanted to commit suicide and there he would have discovered that she wanted to see her mother again and there he would have tricked her into saying his name three times and maybe even marrying him in order to bring Emily back.

But no.... As soon as Beetlejuice knows that Lydia wants to see her mother again, he is completely honest about it... And at least we know that he never lied to her, and while the way he convinced her to marry him was mean, at least it wasn't a lie.

He kept his word to get everyone out of the house and save Barbara.

Beetlejuice really holds Lydia in high esteem and we know that she is very special (because she can see and understand him), so BJ held her back as much as he could to keep her from leaving.

Even after being betrayed THREE TIMES IN A ROW, he was willing to face his worst fear by confronting his mother, just to save Lydia...

He was willing to sacrifice himself to prevent his mother from touching a single hair of the girl.

And that says a lot more than the manipulation he did out of desperation...

Well, that's all for now... Maybe I'll get a third part, but I'd have to watch the musical again to get more information.... Maybe...

(You can update this post regularly, because I keep adding a lot more)

If you made it this far, thank you enormously for reading my writing again...

Merry Christmas to all!! 💖💕

Link to the first part of these headcanons.

Part 1

[hodgepodgequack]

Emio Demo 2: Electric Boogaloo

So it’s been more than 24 hours since I beat the second part of the demo (I hate that we have to wait 5 days for the next part man) and I have some thoughts.

First of all, I called it when I said that Kuze knows Utsugi from 18 years ago (I was wrong about her being the sibling of one of the female victims though). Instead her connection is through the disappearance of her brother Makoto (haha Danganronpa reference) and Utsugi was in charge of that. Must be tough to see the person who was supposed to bring her brother home (and failed) after a murder that reminds her of the og incident.

So let’s talk about Makoto first. According to the game, Junko had not come home for some reason so he went out to look for her. Junko comes back (clearly shaken) and Makoto is nowhere to be found. I wonder if she came home late because the OG killer was targeting her and M someone managed to find her in time, but something bad happens to him. What happens: Killer kills Makoto and for some reason threatens Junko to not be a snitch otherwise he would come after her. (Also possible he abducts him for some reason and tells J to not tell or she will never see him again)

why this stops the murders completely I don’t know, but it is possible the killer thought he might have been getting caught soon and that’s why he stopped. But if that was the case he could have silenced her permanently right then and there. Unless she sees the act occur, killer knows she’s there but doesn’t see her and makes a bluffing threat saying I know who you are and if you snitch it will bite you in the ass. Hence she survives and comes home scared.

Who did it: Now in order to keep someone silent you need to bribe (or as mentioned beforehand threaten) said person or make them believe that no matter what no one will believe them. Maybe the culprit is a cop. And Utsugi works with the police. Maybe J can’t bring herself to trust anyone in the force (again another reason why he joins because if you want the job done right, you have to do it yourself). And that would explain why she’s standoffish towards U because she still doesn’t trust him.

Another Observation: the game mentions it’s a possibility that Makoto was the original culprit (because the murders didn’t stop until he disappears). He was old enough to pull it off. But that means something would have to have happened to him. Did he run away and leave a note that only J saw? Or did she see him messing with bodies and he asks her to hide his body because he can’t live with the guilt anymore now that she saw him and he offs himself.

Game is also adamant that the mystery man who went missing after the first girls death may know something (was he an accomplice I don’t know) there’s not much info I can theorize about him right now.

Kamis age is still not revealed to us in this chapter. Very very sus. I wonder if he is Makoto and he just has amnesia. Him and J could both be adopted or step siblings. Only problem with this is that J should recognize him.

Additionally the game mentions Kami can’t have a gun because he is a terrible shot. I wonder if at some point you have to pick between him and J to raid a place and the gun makes a huge difference. Hell I wonder if knowing said info can influence the game (because it is completely optional dialogue)

Speaking of potential game mechanics: phones. During some point of my gameplay I used to phone to call everybody that was in my contacts. While playing through Ayumis section, she gets a call from the protagonist (whether or not this is scripted I don’t know) and she doesn’t pick up. There’s also an option at some point if you call the office to leave a voicemail (which I didn’t take, I’m curious to see if anyone else did). I wonder it this is going to be a serious mechanic that at some point you need to call XYZ at this time or something bad is going to happen to them, or if it’s a way for the game to gauge the players playstyle (just like they did in the Girl who Stands Behind).

Now I’m not done talking about the demo part 2, but I’m going to leave this post here for now because it’s getting long and I want to dedicate more time to Kamada and the Taxi Driver is separate posts. See you in a bit.

[sixofpomegranates]

"I told you, if i can't fix your problems, I'll just get rid of them."

♜𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠♖— 𝚂.𝚁.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub!Fem!Reader

A/N: !Skin Color & Ethnicity Neutral! Inspired by a book idea I have.

CW: angst 18+ | Mentions of Spencer's canon TRAUMA/Cat Adams/Murder/Crime Scenes, PTSD, GORE, failing justice system, very vague Sex Scenes,

I'd often found myself in helpless situations. I was kidnapped, tortured, drugged, held hostage, almost sacrificed... The thing that always got me through was my fundamental belief in justice.

I never did bad, always played by the rules. I helped the helpless, I caught the bad guys, and I hated myself for every ounce of harm I had to cause to survive.

I am a good person, and yet it seems to bring me nothing.

She'll be out. In a couple of days, Cat Adams is going to be out of prison.

An error of the court.

The lawyer had been high on heavy pain medication during her trial.

There will be a new court trial, according to everyone involved, but I know better than to believe in it.

The minute Cat Adams is free, she will vanish into thin air. All my suffering, all the statements of myself and my therapist, and all the times I had to stand before court and explain the torture I went through due to her have been for nothing.

I'd held back the urge to scream, cry, and vomit as I was informed about it, and by the time I am home that evening, I solely feel tired.

How much do I have to endure?

How did I always be a good person, following the rules, and yet I'm still getting fucked over?

How do the people, molding their morals as they seem fit and simply doing as they please no matter the harm they cause, always win?

I need a calm minute.

Darkness is clouding my mind; a depressive state starting to numb my bones. If I can't rely on justice, then what do I have left?

As I open the door to my apartment, I'm struck with dread.

The light in my bedroom is on, the half-opened door allowing it to illuminate the dark living room, and soft jazz music comes from my record player.

Somebody is here.

Cat isn't out yet.

It can't be her.

No.

Oxygen becomes a luxury as my body falls into a state of panic.

I grab my gun and slowly walk forward toward the bedroom. I can't hear a thing going inside, can't make out who is in there.

Pressing my eyes shut for a second, I take a deep breath and then storm inside.

"Freeze," I exclaim, taking in the scene before me.

It isn't Cat, yet there sits a barely dressed woman on my bed. A woman I know all too well.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, having her not even look up from what she is reading. She hadn't even flinched as I'd thundered in with my gun pointed at her.

"Put the gun down, Spencer. You're going to hurt yourself," she states, relaxed, going through one of the FBI files I keep locked away in my safe.

"How did you get in here?" I question her, and she finally looks at me.

"You need better locks, baby," she lectures me more than disinterested.

She has never been in my home before... at least not that I know. She usually keeps her distance, keeps it more accessible for herself to vanish before the morning, leaving me to wake up alone in a hotel bed.

"You picked my locks?"

She scrunches her nose, feigning disappointment. "Every novice is capable of getting in here. I almost feel insulted that you're surprised I managed to get in."

I finally lower my gun. This woman is a menace, but my messed up sense of self refuses to let me feel threatened by her.

She is like a dark shadow following me for over a year now, yet, I don't fear her, detest her, or want to get rid of her. Somehow I feel a connection between us – something not only coming from the nights we spent together in hotels across America.

She is almost always where I am. In the beginning, I seriously thought we would just randomly meet every other month, but she is always there.

When I am out there, hunting an unsub, my dark, little shadow follows me; when the unsub threatens to get away or harm me, my shadow devours the threat, leaving them served on a silver platter – more times than not, this happens literally.

Sitting down on my bed, I don't worry about turning my back to her. The fright of might getting stabbed by her eased after the first eight months of our... relationship. I sigh deeply while kicking off my shoes, slumping together like a sack of potatoes.

As I rest my elbows on my thighs, face buried in my hands, I feel hers on my back, softly rubbing circles into my skin.

"Where were you today?" she asks, something close to concern in her voice. "You weren't at the headquarters."

I stopped questioning how she knows information like this a while ago.

"Court," I reply as she hugs me from behind, her legs on either of my sides.

"Why?"

I chuckle weakly as she pulls me back, having me rest with my back against her chest. "You can't bare it not to know everything, am I right?"

"Pains me," she admits, wrapping one arm around me, the other running through my curls. "Diana's doing fine, by the way. They have her on this new medication that is very well-spoken of in Europe, and it appears that there are almost no side effects and just positives. They also have this new home-movie system somebody so graciously donated, and now there are many, many movie nights with James Dean, Frank Sinatra, and Fred Astaire for her to enjoy."

Relaxing into her, I smile at the knowledge that at least one Reid is doing well. My shadow had me suspicious of her as I met her as a nurse at my mom's care facility four months into our thing.

That was when I started counting one and one together:

She was at the crime scenes.

She was at my hotels.

She was everywhere.

Wigs, contacts, accents, different languages (I've counted four until now, spoken without any accent, flawlessly), different handwriting, different body languages, different walks, different names and IDs.

My shadow is smart, but somehow I intrigued her enough to come out and play. Meeting me in hotel bars, keeping up her disguises, both of us knowing it is her – me, still not exactly knowing who she is.

"Thank you, love," I tell her, and she kisses my temple.

"Now, why court?"

"Cat Adams," I tell her, triggering one of her almost medically clean information dumps.

"Catherine Adams. Alias's Cat, Miss .45, and The Black Widow Killer. Convicted for murder – over 204 – two attempted murders, one murder by proxy, 2009 attempted murders by proxy, two abductions by proxy, taking hostages, assault with an unlicensed gun, drugging, conspiring against the federal bureau of investigation–"

I interrupt her, "I was in prison because of her. She is obsessed with me."

I feel her tense up but continue her sentence, "Found guilty and to be executed by–"

I interrupt her again. "Court Error. She'll be free to go by the end of next week."

"No," my shadow says, no readable emotion in her voice.

"Just found out about it today. The system fucked up, and she'll be out to roam the streets again."

The woman behind me exhales sharply. I search for her gaze and am met with the cold stare of a predator. "She will come for you again," she states.

I nod, smiling through the tears pooling in my eyes. "I don't think I have a chance of escaping her. Don't even think the justice system is able to fix this mess once they let her out."

Getting up, I start stripping out of my clothes and walk into my bathroom. I step into my shower and wash off the signs of me crying. It has been a while since I last cried due to a helpless situation.

I feel my shadow get behind me into the shower, her arms wrapping around my naked body, her body pressing against my back.

"It's going to be okay," she vows softly, her cheek pressed against my back.

"You can't promise that," I answer croaky.

She turns me around, the warm water now running down my back. I stare at her beautiful face and naked form. I'd like to say I love every single imperfection on her body, but the feelings I have for my shadow are running so much deeper than that.

Rationally, I should avoid her, should inform the team about how deeply we are involved.

I should think of the one time we caught her at a crime scene. How she was standing there between crucified men, who'd been wanted for sex trafficking children. How impassive she was as I put my handcuffs on her, telling her her Miranda Rights.

"We're fixing this, Spencer. I promise I'll help you," she coos softly, brushing my wet hair out of my face. "I'm very good at fixing problems. I swear if push comes to shove, I'll make it go away."

My shadow has an astonishing thrive for justice. She is a dangerous weapon, yet, I am able to feel safe in her presence.

She cups my face and brings my lips to hers. I let it happen, deepen the kiss, and I counter every touch. It's dark and animalistic when we are together; it seems brutal, downright unholy, when I press her face first against the shower tiles and take what I need.

I always considered myself a gentle person, a gentle lover. I always held back, always made sure my partner came first in every instance, but my shadow thrives on seeing every part of me, no matter how depraved and selfish. She provides me with an outlet for all my pent-up feelings. She sees my ugliest, most unlovable self and still looks at me as though I am the most beautiful piece of art she ever laid her pretty eyes upon.

The darkness enveloping me when I am with my shadow is the only time I feel safe without seeing the light. It's the only time I ever consider their to be grey in the term justice.

How often does justice fail to happen, even when brought to court?

How often does a victim do everything right, and yet the perpetrator walks free?

Is my shadow truly a bad person? She never hurt anybody who didn't deserve it. The only thing speaking against her actions is the laws against vigilantism.

Maybe I should've killed Cat Adams when I had the chance; should've ignored all reason and common sense and strangled her.

My hand between her shoulder blades, I press my shadow harder against the tiles. She groans in a mixture of pleasure and pain as I glance at the scar on her trapezius muscle between her lower neck and shoulder blade.

Under the scar is a tattooed number: 1.007

Once she was taken into custody, the team and I came to many realizations:

She had no fingerprints (the skin from her fingers had been professionally and cleanly removed when she was relatively young, leaving her with now healed but fingerprint-less hands), she had no real identity, was in no system, and she was an intelligent and well-trained soldier of whatever kind.

Within two hours after her arrest, Linda Barnes, followed by men dressed in black working under the President himself, had come to get my shadow and every ounce of information we had on her.

Number 1.007 has immunity.

Number 1.007 has many names and identities, but to the nation, she's a number.

Number 1.007 is a weapon that was once chipped like a dog.

I don't know what happened to her, what organization trained her, how old she was when taken in, if she had family, or how she ended up hunting on her own without supervision.

All I know is that my shadow found me, and something within me let her let her guard down. The trained weapon considers me hers, and I welcome her claim on me.

*****

Sent home from a case two hours earlier, I exit the cab I have taken to the FBI Headquarters in Quantico.

Emily had gotten a call from Barnes. That is all I know.

I enter the FBI's Assistant Director of National Security's office, being met by her cold gaze and two police officers.

They all greet me professionally. I shake their hands, although everything within me finds it revolting.

I sit down, and they offer me coffee. I decline and question their reason for bringing me away from a case—all three exchange uncomfortable glances.

Linda Barnes speaks first, insisting that she ordered it since she found it imported I'd come here and hear it first from the officers instead of the news. Her cold gaze looks more sympathetic than I ever thought her able to be.

Then one of the officers informs me: Cat Adams is dead.

I don't know how to feel. For a moment, it just feels like somebody pulled the carpet away right under my feet. I am glad I am sitting.

Dead.

They inform me about Barnes having given them my alibi (being in a different state, working on a case). They ask me if I want to see photos of the crime scene, thinking I'd recognize something – anything – as they appear to have nothing.

I agree. Barnes assures me that I do not need to feel obligated to do so, but I agree.

Somehow I don't feel like Cat is actually dead (that the nightmare is over) until I see her body.

Symbolism.

Cat Adams was murdered in an unidentified location but presented on a silver platter in the very courthouse she gained her freedom in.

The scene presents itself right in the grand entrance hall. Right in front of the statue of Lady Justice.

The Lady's scale holds Cat Adams's heart on one side and a stag of papers (her charges) on the other.

Her lifeless body has been gutted and placed kneeling in front of the statue; with a brush in her hands, she (or rather somebody, as she was already dead for a couple of hours at this point) used her blood as ink to write "Summum ius, summa iniuria." Latin for "More law, less justice." on the ground between them.

This is my shadow's work. I can feel her energy radiating from every detail of the crime scene. I don't mention her with any word, though I should. This should scare me. I should feel more than I do.

I can't help the cops with their investigation. Cat Adams had many enemies. She hurt plenty of people. Many were angered as the verdict was revoked due to the court's errors. People had called for justice, but the law had to let her go.

This could be the work of anybody she wronged. Just not me. I have an alibi.

Barns wraps the questioning up, sending me home for a few days.

*****

I already lie in bed when I hear my apartment door opening. My brand-new home-security system goes off, but somebody enters the code and it falls silent.

The door closes, gets locked, and the security system gets activated again.

There are no sounds, and I consider the possibility of her having left again until the mattress behind me sinks in, and she snuggles up behind me.

"What the fuck have you done?" I ask her calmly, making her giggle. "Oh, big boy words."

I turn on the lamp on my bedside table, sitting up. Just now noticing the missing one on her side. How does my shadow manage to smile and be happy although she murdered somebody no 24 hours ago?

"I am serious," I say, angrier than I thought I was. "You killed Cat."

"I told you I'd help you," she says, her smile leaving her face. "Why are you angry with me?"

Pressing the heel of my palm against my eyes, I try to be calm, but my past trauma shows itself in pure anger, annoyance, and confusion. "You realize that this is not a normal conversation I should have with you, right? I should not have to explain to you why killing somebody isn't okay. D-Do I have to worry that one day you'll snap, and then I am next?"

I speak my last sentence without thinking about it. I don't fear my little shadow; I love this mystery of a woman I barely know.

Her face pulls into a hurt expression. "That's bullshit. You know I'd never hurt you, Spencer."

"Do I know? Fuck, I don't even know your name."

"That's because I don't have one," my dark shadow hisses at me, tears in her eyes. She takes a deep breath and then explains, "I told you, if I can't fix your problem, I'll just get rid of it."

She did. She had told me the – for her so logical – plan.

"I didn't think you would go that far... Or do anything at all," I admit.

A sob escapes her. "I- I didn't want to do it." She clears her throat and starts again. "I wanted to do it for what she did to you, but I was willing to simply keep an eye on her until her trial because you like your justice to be legal."

"And yet she wound up dead."

"Because she showed up here. The minute she was out, she came here, and let herself in like she owned the place," my shadow says, adding, "I told you you need better locks."

"So you killed her?"

She looks at me, irritated. "No, Spencer. I tried to talk to her. I made clear that you're mine and that I don't want her anywhere near you. She was the one attacking me. I'm not letting myself get attacked by a psychotic bitch, so I whacked her with the lamp from my bedside."

So that was why the lamp was missing.

"So it was self-defense?" I ask, tracing the deeply dark, bruised skin of her shoulder as she pulls my cardigan (the one I thought I lost) over her shoulder.

"Don't know if I'd call it self-defense since she didn't exactly have the military training advantages I have, but yeah. Sure. But it's not exactly like I could just call the cops, you know?" My shadow lifts her hand as to hint at the fact that she legally doesn't exist, then drops it again. "I didn't kill her with the lamp, but, like, it's not like there was a way to step back from the situation, so I just continued as I usually would."

"And that was the scene before Lady Justice?"

She nodded, stating, "If you can't live as a good example, you'll die as a warning for others following down your path. I tried to do it your way, and it didn't work. I don't regret having done what needed to be done to keep you safe."

Cat Adams broke me. She had me rot in prison for months; she let me live years of believing she raped me; she made me a murderer, let me think my mother was dead, that I'd caused her miscarriage...

Cat ridiculed the trauma she caused me and did what she could to convince me I was just as much of a monster as she was, so I'd let her lay her claim on me.

The woman beside me sobs, a tear running down her face. "You hate me now, don't you?"

"I don't. Could never," I answer. I delight in the knowledge that Cat finally got what she deserved.

The monster haunting my nightmares and messing with my head for so long is gone.

She underestimated my little, dark shadow and put herself in a cage with a monster just as big and scary but way more efficient than herself.

In the end, Cat Adams chose her ending herself. She could've left but refused to let go of the chance to have me. She chose her fate by challenging my shadow's claim on me and forcing her hand to keep me safe.

"I can't believe that it's over," I finally say, realizing I am crying like a child as the woman beside me cups my face in her hands. "It's over."

People say to forgive and forget. They insist on never holding a grudge and moving on, being the bigger person. Forgiveness is a cute idea, but it doesn't change that you suffer the consequences of another person's evil doings.

I laugh through the tears, savoring the relief of justice.

Cat will never again be able to hurt me.

I can move on and heal without fear.

I wrap my arms around my shadow, pulling her into the pillows with me. She cries too. Fair enough, I cry harder, but she clearly sheds tears of compassion, of love.

Who would've thought that the most real form of raw, unapologetic love I'd ever experience would come from someone that officially doesn't even exist?

"[y/n]," she whispers, making me look at her. "I don't have a real name, but I like [y/n]. That- That's all that I can give to you."

"It's more than enough," I whisper back, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

She freed me from the specter haunting me in the only way she seems to have learned how to, and although our future is uncertain, I doubt she even knows who she is herself, and one day my shadow will have to step into the light: I have laid my claim onto her just as much as she has laid hers on me.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

First Of Her Name

The first two chapters of my long-delayed birthday fic for @handwrittenhello are up! It's a Geraskefer warlord!Yennefer fic featuring role reversals, arranged marriages, kidnapping, and pining.

Rating: E

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; canonical child death in prologue

Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer; Geralt/Yennefer; Jaskier/Yennefer

Summary: Fifteen years after deposing the kings of Aedirn and Lyria and being crowned the Warlord of the North, Yennefer has everything she could want: power, security, and an only moderately irritating lover, her court mage, Jaskier. But she's taken off guard when Queen Visenna of Rivia offers Yennefer her youngest son’s hand in marriage. Yennefer is skeptical, until she meets Prince Geralt and his daughter, Ciri, and is fonder of both of them than she expected.

But as they begin to plan for a wedding, it becomes increasingly clear that someone wants to stop Yennefer and Geralt’s marriage. And they’re not picky about who they need to hurt to make that happen.

You can read the prologue and the first scene of chapter one below the cut or find the entirety of the first two chapters here on AO3!

Prologue

Yennefer fucking hates portals.

Her stomach lurches as she drops to her knees in the sand, clutching the Lyrian princess to her chest. She just barely manages not to heave.

“Oh, fuck,” the Lyrian court mage says behind her as he closes the portal. “Oh, shit.”

The scent of blood is cloying and the baby in Yennefer’s arms has no heartbeat.

“Is she—” the mage—Yennefer never bothered learning his name—starts to ask.

Yennefer lowers the princess to the sand. The little face is pale and still, her silken swaddle stained with blood. “She’s gone.”

The mage curses and drops to his knees next to Yennefer, brushing her away as he places his hands over the infant and begins to chant in Elder. Yennefer sits back, catching her breath and cataloging her injuries. She has a gash in her arm from the krallach’s claws and another in her back from where the assassin’s blade barely missed burying itself between her ribs. It could have been worse, she knows. At least she’s not dead in some far away desert, like Kalis.

“Fuck.” The mage lets his hands fall away and closes his eyes. “What do we—”

Yennefer brings a blade to his throat, resting the tip of it against his Adam’s apple. “Did you know?”

He swallows hard and a bead of blood wells under the top of her dagger. “No.”

“You’re King Villem’s court mage,” Yennefer reminds him. “And you didn’t know that he was planning on killing his wife and daughter?”

“Of course not!” The mage’s heart is hammering so hard that Yennefer can’t tell if he’s lying. His sweet honeysuckle smell is shot through with lingering fear, despair, and anger. “Do you think I would just sit there while a baby was getting murdered?”

“Every Ban Ard fucker I’ve ever known would feed a baby to the Lionheaded Spider itself for power.”

“I see you’ve met Stregobor.”

Yennefer can’t help but snort.

Blue eyes open and fix on her face. “I didn’t know anything about what Villem was planning. I’ve been at his court for five years and he’s never trusted me with anything more advanced than enchanting the ceiling of the throne room. He’s never liked me, to be honest. I think he thought Kalis and I were fucking.”

“Were you?”

“No, but not from her lack of trying. I may be an idiot, but I’m not enough of an idiot to fuck the queen.” The mage smiles shakily and Yennefer wonders if he’s as young as he looks, no older than twenty-five. “If you’re still thinking about slitting my throat, I’d like to remind you that I just portaled all over the damn Continent trying to keep you alive.”

“And to keep yourself alive.”

“I won’t apologize for not wanting to get ripped apart by a giant bug.” He shudders.

Yennefer doesn’t put the knife away, but she sits back, putting space between them. His shoulders sag with relief. “I think you may need a new job,” she tells him.

The mage lets out a humorless laugh. “I definitely need a new job. That assassin was supposed to kill me too.”

“I noticed.”

“You saved my life.”

“I did.”

He wipes his bloodstained hands on his doublet. “I’m Jaskier.”

“Yennefer.”

“School of the Raven?”

“What gave it away?”

“I’ll admit, I haven’t met many witchers, but I don’t think the witchers from any of the other schools are quite so beautiful.”

Yennefer doesn’t bother hiding her eye roll. “Wait until you’re not covered in blood and ichor before you try flirting badly.”

“Badly? Madam, I’ll have you know, I’m an experienced and accomplished flirt.”

Ignoring him, Yennefer scoops the baby up in her arms, turning away.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier calls after her.

“I’m going to bury the babe,” Yennefer tells him. “And then I’m going to go back to Vengerberg, get my horse, and get the fuck out of this kingdom.”

“You should absolutely not go back to Vengerberg.”

Yennefer turns to glare at him. “And why not?”

Jaskier gives her an incredulous look. “Because do you think it was a coincidence that they hired a witcher to escort a transport with the queen and the princess when the king was planning on having his wife and daughter slaughtered?”

“It was King Virfuril who hired me,” Yennefer tells him. “Not Villem.”

“Virfuril, who is actively negotiating a treaty with Villem and just happens to have a daughter who just came of marriageable age. I would bet my left nipple that the two of them came up with this plan together. Kill the queen, the spare princess, and the inconvenient court mage, frame the witcher, and let Villem marry the young, fertile princess of Aedirn.”

Yennefer feels ice settle in her chest. It makes a terrible sort of sense. “Those fuckers.”

“If you go back to Vengerberg, all that waits for you in the gallows.” Jaskier looks at her with such sympathy that it makes her want to stab him. “I’m sorry.”

Yennefer has been on the Path for thirty years. She’s very used to the bullshit that humans throw at her and the bullshit that nobles like to throw is usually the worst. She’s been chased by angry mobs, had poison slipped into her food and her bathwater, and has been lured into more traps than she can count. But this is the first time that a royal has had it out for her.

Fuck, she never should have taken this job; she’s a witcher, not a damn royal babysitter. But a thousand crowns to escort Queen Kalis from Vengerberg to Lyria was too good to pass up. After several contracts that didn’t pay and nearly losing her arm to a wyvern last month, she needed the coin. In retrospect, it was far too cushy of a contract; she should have been suspicious from the start.

And Yennefer knows where this will go, because she’s seen it before. They won’t be able to catch her; she’ll slip out of Aedirn without discovery and then the next witcher who passes through will be hung in her stead. Probably a Wolf, since their keep is just north of here in Kaedwen. That may not be her problem, but the thought of another witcher dying in her stead leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“You saved my life,” Jaskier says. “I owe you. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll portal there.”

Yennefer looks down at the still, pale babe in her arms. Only a few months old, dead before she’d said her first word or taken her first step. All because a greedy fool of a king wants to marry a girl young enough to be his daughter. “Take me to Vengerberg.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen. “I thought we’d established that King Virfuril—”

Yennefer flashes him a smile, displaying her too-sharp incisors. “King Virfuril and I need to have a chat.”

***

One: Raven

Fifteen years later

It’s Jaskier who breaks the news to Yennefer as they lie together in the enormous four-poster that has never quite felt like hers, not even after all these years. She’s lying on her stomach next to him, eyes closed while he runs his fingers down her back, calloused fingertips tracing over the scars left by three decades on the Path and fifteen years as the so-called Raven of Vengerberg, Warlord of the North.

“Are you fucking joking?” Yennefer lifts her head from the pillow to gaze incredulously at him.

Jaskier is unfazed by her annoyance, as he usually is. “The Queen of Rivia wants to form a marriage alliance,” he says again, more slowly this time. “She’s offered her fourth son’s hand in marriage.”

“To me ?”

“Quite frankly, you could do better, but marriage offers aren’t exactly lining up right now.”

“I don’t consider that a problem.” Yennefer sits up, dislodging him. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with the fourth son of the queen of a vassal state?”

Jaskier smiles wickedly. “I suppose it depends on how good-looking he is.”

Yennefer throws a pillow at him. He makes it vanish in mid-air with a flick of his finger, the bastard.

“Like I was saying,” Jaskier says without missing a beat, blinking those impossibly blue eyes at her. He claims that his eyes were just as blue before his Ascension, but she’s never believed him. “Prince Geralt is thirty years old, Queen Visenna’s youngest son, known for being an avid horseman and exceptional swordsman—”

“You sound like a matchmaking aunt.”

“I feel like a matchmaking aunt, dearest.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes and grabs her dressing gown from where she discarded it on the ground earlier. She’s rarely self-conscious about her nakedness, particular in front of the man she’s been fucking for the better part of the past decade and a half, but this seems like the type of conversation best had clothed. “And why are you bringing this up now?”

“It was Tissaia’s idea. She thought the afterglow might sweeten your mood.”

“When has being in your presence ever sweetened my mood?”

“Fair point. A rare misstep on her part.” He shoots her a crooked grin and presses a kiss to her shoulder blade.

Yennefer just manages not to lean into the touch. “My empire spans Lyria, Aedirn, Kaedwen, Caingorn, and Kovir. What the fuck can this Prince Gerard—”

“Geralt.”

“What can Prince Geralt do for me?”

“Rivia’s a country that’s rich in resources,” Jaskier says. “And I think it would behoove us to start having a more… diplomatic approach to foreign relations.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing with the whole not conquering those fucks in Redania, Temeria, and Cintra?”

She can feel the quirk of his lips against her skin. “I think we can do better than ‘don’t fuck up, or we’ll invade you and slaughter your nobility.’ A marriage alliance shows that you’re willing to reach out to other kingdoms. To work with them. To meet them halfway.”

“Ugh.” Yennefer hates diplomacy.

“And then there’s the matter of his first marriage.”

“Oh, so not only is he a fourth son, but I’ll be a second wife?”

“Prince Geralt’s first wife was Princess Pavetta of Cintra.”

Yennefer turns around to face her lover. “You should have led with that.”

Jaskier looks very smug, like he always does when he’s captured an audience’s attention. She often thinks that if he hadn’t become a mage, he would have ended up a traveling minstrel. Or perhaps a jester. “They caused a bit of a scandal when they ran off together. He was seventeen and she was fifteen. Calanthe had a marriage alliance all set with some jarl’s son from Skellige, but Pavetta had other plans. If it hadn’t been for the baby, Calanthe probably would have declared war on Rivia and taken the boy’s head.”

“Baby?”

“Princess Cirilla of Cintra, born only six months after her parents’ marriage. She’s twelve years old now. After Pavetta died at sea, she’s bounced back and forth between Rivia and Cintra.”

“How did I miss all this?”

“We were conquering Kovir the year Geralt and Pavetta married and there was an uprising in Lyria the year Pavetta died. You were busy with the warlording, dearest.”

Yennefer sighs. “Aren’t I always?”

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement. “Rumor has it that there’s tension between Queen Calanthe and Prince Geralt over the girl’s future.”

“I take it he doesn’t want her married off at fifteen to a Skelligan jarl?”

“I imagine that’s part of it, yes.” Jaskier leans back, reclining on the pillows like he expects a scantily-clad serving girl to come along and start feeding him grapes. “Cintra has been a thorn in our side since the start. Having the next Queen of Cintra as your stepdaughter will help us form an alliance with them once Calanthe’s shriveled heart finally gives out. And can you imagine the look on Calanthe’s face when she finds out that her former son-in-law is marrying a witcher, and a part-elf witcher to boot? That might be enough to kill her.”

Yennefer can’t stop a slow smile from creeping across her face. “I thought you wanted me to be diplomatic.”

“I do.” He nods. “But I also like the idea of you pissing off Calanthe in a way that will leave her helpless to retaliate. What is she going to do, declare war on the largest empire in the Northern Kingdoms because you married her dead daughter’s widower? It would make her look petty and vindictive, not like the Lioness of Cintra persona she’s tried so hard to build.”

It’s easy to forget sometimes that Jaskier is a Ban Ard-trained mage. He presents the image of the fop with his silly doublets, floppy hair, and ever-present lute, but he’s actually got some sense under all the peacocking. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him in the early days of their acquaintance. Still, she invited him into her bed because he had pretty eyes and a wicked tongue and she knew a good lay when she saw one. And by the time he threw himself between her and an assassin’s blade six months later, she knew she had his loyalty. And in the years since, it’s never wavered.

Her eyes travel to the silver ring on his pinky finger. He’s fidgeting with it, like he often does when he’s deep in thought. It looks like a plain band at first glance, but there’s a raven’s head engraved on the inside. The ring is linked to her medallion, a charm that Jaskier put in place after she was briefly captured during the conquering of Kovir. No matter where she is on the Continent, Jaskier will always be able to portal to her. There’s no one else she would trust with something like that. Peacock or no, she knows she can trust him to have her best interests at heart.

“Do you think I should do it?” she asks quietly.

Jaskier sits up, pinning her with that too-blue gaze. “I think that you’ve built yourself a vast and impressive empire here, Yennefer. You’re the most powerful person on the Continent. But you need allies, or someday, you will meet an enemy you won’t be able to take on yourself. Prince Geralt may not be that big of a catch on his own, but the potential of a future alliance with Rivia and Cintra could potentially save us a good deal of headaches in the future, especially if Emhyr starts to turn his attentions towards the Northern Kingdoms.”

Yennefer groans. She knows Nilfgaard is going to become a pain in her ass one of these days.

“And of course, have you seen Queen Visenna?” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. “If her son is half as attractive, you should sign whatever marriage contract they put in front of you.”

Yennefer huffs in exasperation. “You’re an incorrigible lech.”

“Something you had no complaints about twenty minutes ago,” he says with a leer, then abruptly sobers. “By all accounts, he’s a good man with a steady head on his shoulders that dotes on his daughter and his horse. You could do worse.”

Yennefer hates it when he gets serious with her. It’s highly inconvenient. “I’ll think about it.”

***

Read the rest here on AO3!

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Got an ask. I have been feeling sick lately. I don't know why. My appointment is next month. I cannot wait to see my doctor.

You loved your children but you have been having three strange thoughts lately...

You felt like you would be happier... dead.

You felt nostalgic. Grace, your triplets raised on earth after Quaritch's death. Your side of the family on earth. Your cottage in the countryside of France. Your kittens and horses.

Everything.

You hated living in Pandora. Visiting here for vacation was fun. Not living here.

After the twins went to sleep. You went to the the bathroom mirror cabinet. You took out the scissors you would use to trim hair of your family.

You sat back in your bed. Suddenly, your cellphone vibrated. A text message from your fiancee.

It was another stupid picture of an erected dick. It was annoying. He would send you nudes and text how he is thinking of you and how you make him hot and all that shit.

He would 'ask' you for nudes. Like he wouldn't punish you if you ignored. You had enough of him. He shot Grace, his chopper team killed Trudy and innocent Navis. Not to mention you remembered the times he raped and beat you when he was human.

You were traumatized. Miles was still with Jake. You told Neytiri of your new twins. And she told you the death of neteyam. Poor thing. You loved neteyam l. He was one of Mile's best friend. Only Loak and Kiri were alive. Tuk was alive too but she was too young to play with Miles.

Quaritch shot at him. Poor dear.

You felt guilty that the man you now love murdered most of the people you love. That's right. You now love him. But you are unhappy with him.

...

Quaritch was at the gym training with Lyle. Lyle managed to escape the final battle and the others were dead. Now, new recom Navis were assigned under him.

He was planning to attack Sully again.

As he was lifting weights he heard the squeakiness of running shoes against the floor.

He saw an ugly nurse man running towards him.

"Colonel, your wife is in the emergency!" The nurse said. The colonel paused and looked over. He dropped his weights. "She tried to kill herself by slitting her wrist!"

The entire gym was quiet and the Colonel heard Lyle gasp.

The colonel ran past the nurse.

...

Miles sighed as he stared at the stars of Pandora. He felt worried now. Like something evil is ahead. But what? He couldn't put his finger on it. He thought of you a lot. His precious mother. He missed Val and Isabella Maria and his father a little. But mostly you

Neytiri told him that you gave birth to Navi twins and she is secretly speaking to the Sully family.

If Quaritch finds out. You might get beaten by him. Only he and Sully family know. Even tuk.

It was strange, his mother and father made history as the first mother of half breeds. Like Adam and Eve.

He wondered to Quaritch. Before Miles swam away to Jake, Quaritch begged him to join him. Quaritch called him son.

He was told by Neytiri that you missed him and cried for him. Yet your mother told Neytiri that she wants Miles to stay with Jake. Quaritch is evil after all. But you still miss Miles.

Miles wondered of your beautiful face. His mother crying for him.

He wanted to rescue you, his siblings and his new set of Navi siblings. But how?

Back to Quaritch...

Quaritch ran to your unconscious side and held your hand. You got stitches on your wrist. You poor stupid thing.

The doctor informed Quaritch that you had postpartum depression. Quaritch sighed. He noticed you stop wearing makeup and styling your hair. Quaritch brushed it off as you busy with the new babies. Come to think of it. You stopped reading books and gardening. Loss of interest. He caught you staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping. Usually after sex, you would blankly stare into space as you laid on his chest. He would ask you what you were thinking. You assured him it was nothing. Quaritch didn't buy it but let you have your privacy.

Quaritch felt guilt, he should have gave you depression medicine and made you see the therapist at the base. He was busy with work. He didn't help you with the new babies. He also stopped playing with his older kids. But he was so occupied and tired. He knew you missed your first son.

And your twins were always crying loud and hungry for milk since they are Navi.

Worse than human babies. But you were a light sleeper and Quaritch slept heavily. You would wake in the middle of the night to care for them. He felt like a bad husband to you.

His poor name almost killed herself. He blamed Sully. Sully turned you against him. Quaritch vowed to skin Sully alive

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 3

♥ Characters: Nyoko Kokonoi & Bonten

♥ Warnings for Series: Drug use, Semi-Dark content, Guns, Gang related activities, murder, general warning for Bonten being Bonten.

♥ Timeline: Bonten

♥ OC summary: The 15 year old daughter of Hajime Kokonoi has a luxurious life, having never wanted for anything in her whole life. She seeks to be recognized by her father, and in doing so, becomes more involved in Bonten’s dark world.

♥ wc: 1.2k

♥ a.n: three chapters in. Nyoko may have learned her lesson a little too late.

She could get away with just about anything.

Except interrupting a meeting at the office. That was one of the few ways that Nyoko could make her father mad at her. Her frustration blinded her. She wanted to barge in anyway, so angry that he'd sent Sanzu after her.

"The rules still apply even when you're throwing a temper tantrum, Princess." Rindou managed to snatch her away from the closed door before the girl could throw it open. Bonten's business wasn't to be interrupted.

"Let me go!" There wasn't much she could do when the younger Haitani lifted her off the ground with one arm around her waist. Her dainty size made it quite easy to be overpowered.

Violet eyes were muted with mild annoyance. An entitled little brat. The large office building housed all the executives, many of them on this very floor. Rindou kicked the door shut to his office, tiring of wrestling her around.

He wasn't aiming to hurt her.

Nyoko hit the wall with a decent thud, his fingers digging into her jaw almost too tightly. It only fueled her rage. How fucking dare he! No one ever treated her this way. She only raised her leg a fraction.

Having had a gun against her back only hours ago, she could easily recognize the nozzle of his pistol pressing against her stomach.

"Do you fucking understand yet?"

Rindou absolutely hated that defiant glint in her eyes. The sole thing stopping him from disciplining her himself was that she was Kokonoi's kid. It wasn't really his business. Too much of a headache, really.

"You wanna know why your dad sent Sanzu after you? Cause you can't do shit. A little princess up in your tower spending daddy's money and pretending that you have any fucking part in Bonten."

He hit every nerve.

"Fuck you-" Nyoko barely got the words out as Rindou tightened his grip on her jaw, telling her to shut up without saying so. She wasn't naive enough to believe that she was a member of Bonten and had any claim to a spot in the organization.

Yet.

Rindou jammed his gun further into her stomach, tilting his head to the side. "You're just plain stupid for being a brat with a gun held on you."

"You aren't going to shoot me."

It was that confidence that pissed him off more. Her ego too damn big. She'd end up dead because of it. Nyoko had no strength to back it, only her dad's name. Any sane person would spend hours attempting to talk her down.

He wasn't one of those people.

The bang from the barrel startled the girl as he'd intended. Her body rigid and the adamant, obstinate gleam in her eyes dissipated into shock.

Rindou would need to replace his couch in the office, but the fear he'd wanted to give her had been successful. "Trembling like a terrified kitten. No more hissing to pretend you're tough." She had been correct, he wouldn't shoot her, but someone who has a grudge against her, wouldn't hesitate to shut her up.

"Why the fuck are you holding a gun to my daughter?" The door nearly flew off the hinges as Kokonoi threw it open. The gunshot had drawn the attention of everyone. He hadn't expected to find Nyoko pinned to the wall with Rindou's gun pulled.

"Just having a conversation. I think I made my point." The younger Haitani released the teenager, amused by the way she scampered over to her father for protection. "You baby her too much. It's gonna get her killed."

Kokonoi frowned, ushering her from the room. "Don't ever point a weapon at her again." He hated the dispassionate expression on Rindou's features. No one spoke as Kokonoi and Nyoko disappeared across the large hall to his private office. "Are you hurt?" If she had a single bruise on her, he'd break Rindou's jaw in return.

Nyoko tried to calm her racing heart. The gun firing inches from her body truly alighted panic within her nerves. She hated that Rindou was right. Nothing he'd said was a stretch of the truth. She was weak... Crimson irises lifted from the floor, accepting that she'd been in the wrong. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for him."

"No... not about that." He didn't know that she'd tried to interrupt a meeting, mad that he'd sent Sanzu to protect her. That she'd been a complete brat. "I shouldn't have tried to provoke Himekawa. It's my fault that he hired that hit man. I followed him into that alley-" She'd wanted a confrontation but wasn't prepared for what it would entail.

She'd tried to be something that she wasn't.

"I expected as much," he replied. That was why he had her follow. He knew his daughter was reckless. Partly his own fault. It irritated him that his colleague was correct. He did baby his daughters, more so Hisui than Nyoko, but his failure in his oldest daughter was that he hadn't properly shown her how weak she was.

She was so headstrong.

And if he did nothing but accept her apology, she'd do it again. The results could be much worse next time.

"I'll call a car to take you home." It wasn't easy. He wanted to hug her, tell her that he'd protect her, and it was alright. But it wasn't. He needed to determine the best way to teach her a lesson. "We'll talk about this when I get home."

Kokonoi needed time to think. He would never raise a hand to his daughters, and he was positive that Rindou had put a good dose of fear into her with his stunt. Perhaps he needed a different approach, one that he hadn't thought of yet.

So, he sent her home while he finished his work.

Nyoko flopped onto her sister's bed, groaning loudly. "I really messed up, Hisui. Dad's so mad at me. He didn't even lecture me. He just sent me home." Her skin crawled, wanting to take a bath to rinse off the assault.

The younger Kokonoi turned in her gaming chair, dropping her headphones around her neck. "Are you okay? I heard that boy hired a hit man. I was really worried." Blue eyes watched her sister mope. Nyoko was often causing a bit of a fuss.

"I'm fine. Himekawa wasn't going to kill me. He wants me to be his girlfriend." She was confident that the hit man was for show. That worm didn't have the balls to have her shot.

"Himekawa wasn't the one holding the gun."

Nyoko sat up at her statement, as if it were the missing piece of the puzzle of the day's events. Oh... shit. She had a point. "I... That's why..." Why everyone was upset with her. It hadn't even occurred to her. "I'm such an idiot."

Hisui nodded her head, spinning back around to face her game. "Yeah, you should apologize to dad." The sound of the fight filled her ears, finished with the conversation. She liked the safety of the apartment, and never did anything that would put her in danger.

The older girl went to bathe while she waited for the inevitable punishment and lecture that awaited her. She deserved it, but Nyoko's mind floated a new idea. She disliked having to use physical violence, but perhaps she could learn a few self-defense techniques.

Perched on the edge of a marble sink, her phone screen lit up with a notification. Download completed. And as quickly as it popped up, it disappeared, as if an invisible hand had swiped it away. Access to the personal device left her vulnerable.

She wasn't prepared for the storm that had begun to brew.

[heavyasafeather]

2023

1. What did you do in 2023 that you’d never done before?

I don't know if this counts because it’s not like I’ve never played any videogames before, but since I’m not really a gamer, and the only real game that I’ve actually enjoyed to the point of obsession was Far Cry: Primal, playing Hogwarts Legacy definitely took over my life.

I also finally pierced my ears... and then tried to hide it from my dad for about 4 months.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I told myself to workout during lunch or take the stairs more, and I barely did that. I usually don't make resolutions, I don't even know why I tried.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

--

4. Did anyone close to you die?

--

5. What countries did you visit?

--

6. What would you like to have in 2024 that you lacked in 2023?

Joji.

7. What date from 2023 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

May 13th, 2023 - I saw Joji at the Forum.

June 24th, 2023 - I pierced my ears.

August 6th, 2023 - I bought tickets last minute to see Joji at Bleached Fest.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Realizing I don’t want to be stuck at my current job, then telling my boss that I was unhappy and that I wanted to go to school, and him being really supportive.

Going back to school.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Telling some people that I was quitting my job.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nope.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Any of the tickets to see Joji.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

?

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

If cancer was a person, I would murder that motherfucker. Also, I'm pretty sure my manager gaslighted me earlier this year.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Bills, school.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Joji at the Forum.

16. What song will always remind you of 2023?

The Cactus Blooms, "Mississippi" Hot Hot Heat, "Magnitude" Daneshevskaya, "Estuary Dig" Vaundry, "Odoriko" The Specials, "Gangsters"

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? Sadder.

ii. thinner or fatter? Fatter.

iii. richer or poorer? I feel poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Skating.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Going to work.  Caring

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Christmas Eve: Literally binging The Last of Us. Christmas day: I went home, and didn't do shit for the rest of the day, except like play Hogwarts Legacy.

21. Did you fall in love in 2023?

With Special Agent Dale Cooper? Yeah, maybe.

22. How will you be spending New Years?

Probably binge watching some show with Adam. Yeah, he's got on Succession right now, but I'm not even paying attention.

23. How many one-night stands?

0.

24. What was your favourite TV program?

Orville! TWIN PEAKS!

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

If cancer was a person...

26. What was the best book you read?

--

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

...binaural beats?

28. What did you want and get?

To see Joji. I also got a Twin Peaks shirt for Christmas.

29. What did you want and not get?

To see Joji at the Crypto.com Arena in October.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

The Whale. No Hard Feelings. Killers of the Flower Moon? I don't know. I can tell you what movies I hated: Incendies. or Brimstone. (No, they both were good - just what the fuck).

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 32. The day of: I went to work, but my coworker made me cake. And then I went to Korean BBQ with my parents. The Monday before, my Japanese teacher made me dinner and bought me a piece of cake and flan, and we just hung out; it was pretty sweet of her, and she also got me a kiiroitori stuffed animal.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably satisfying?

Being able to start school right when I was wanting to quit my job.

Having the balls to tell people to shut the fuck up.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2023?

Scrubs.

34. What kept you sane?

Nothing - I’m pretty sure this is the most I’ve ever had a panic/anxiety attack. Weekends watching Twin Peaks.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Seriously? ...also young Kyle Maclachlan was a new one.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

I just... don't.

37. Who did you miss?

I'm not sure if I did. There's one person I think about often, but then I get just mad because I doubt they give a shit (or ever did for how seemingly easy it was for them to just drop me).

38. Who was the best new person you met?

You know, she's not new - but my Japanese teacher has been amazing - she's basically become my new grandma.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2023:

--

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

And I move lightly in the dawn. Try to, gently ever on the lee. Though, I liked summer light on you. If we ride a winter-long wind. Though, time's not what I belong to, and I'm not the season I'm in.

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 18: Yellowjackets S2 Eps 1-6

I took the morning off sick from work, so life is going really well right now. I did manage to make it in, and then go shopping afterward. I've felt mostly okay since coming home--tired, but not sad. I watched another episode of Yellowjackets (took me like 2 hours with pausing and so on) and soaked my feet, which does seem to be helping with how badly they've hurt the last couple days. It doesn't usually feel as good as I think it will while I'm doing it, but it feels better after.

Anyway, I don't know what to write about and I also really want to shower and get to bed, so here are some few thoughts on YJ S2 so far. I've just finished Ep 6, Qui.

I guess I get why some people really don't like this season and consider it a sharp drop off from S1. I don't, but I haven't been totally inhaling it like I did S1. It's slower, I think. That makes sense for the 96-era scenes: it's winter, there's not as much to do, they're losing their minds a little. I've read some criticism of those scenes too and various arguments as to how they could be done better but I honestly don't take any issue to anything (other than having to get used to the idea that newly introduced minor characters have been here this whole time). They do a lot to provide plot even though what's really happening is they're sitting around devolving: Tai and Van's relationship, Misty and Crystal, the mouse, Ben's alternate life (which I actually find rather chilling), the Javi stuff, and of course, the growing cult situation. The mood of the scenes matches the mood of the characters matches my mood while watching.

The '21 story line... I don't know. Mixed feelings. It's a little frustrating that every YJ is doing something totally different. A part of me gets it, like, they are all being ushered toward the compound and I still have 3 episodes' worth of plot for them there... and I also get that there was a fair bit of separation between stories in S1 as well. But it feels like the separation is more severe now; they're even in different genres in a way. I was also worried at the end of S1 that killing Adam would sort of spiral the show into something else--it's hard to not make a big deal out of a literal murder--and that's sort of happening. But only for Shauna. I actually do like how the story is allowing for Callie and Shauna's relationship to develop, but it still feels... like they opened a can of worms with this and now they're either stuck with it for a while or they have to stuff the worms back in as fast as possible, which will be unrealistic and unsatisfying. And what of uh Shauna literally killing a man? I know it might be nothing compared to the '96 crimes, but it still doesn't really gel with me, that she would be really that unbothered. That seems to make a claim about her character that I don't think is otherwise supportable. I don't know. Just thinking as I type here.

I don't hate the wilderness compound stuff at all, though I'm not quite sure what to make of it yet (or Lottie... a tough nut to crack for me honestly; she's like almost a couple different archetypes but not quite), and I like Taissa and Van meeting up again. I love Van. I love Lauren Ambrose. I want to watch Lauren Ambrose in everything. Van grew into one of my favorites over the course of S1 and I'm liking where she's going in S2. Tai's story in the pre-Van eps surprised me a little: she is spiraling way harder and way faster than I thought; it was very creepy and well-done, though.

This ep (6) was really hard to watch, as I'd been anticipating, and I definitely did cry at the end. Well done but sad. It's like you can't even be angry at something that upsets you that much when your emotion is tempered by respect for the craft. That's how I feel anyway.

[yanderenightmare]

How would the yanderes react if their darling was the one to initiate intimacy/sex for the first time, and how do you think their darling would come to that point? (stockholm syndrome? being touch starved/deprived as punishment? etc.)

thirsty ! BNHA imagines

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon/dubcon, abuse, profanity, anxiety, guilt, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mind control

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

-ADDICTION

She was riding for dear life, chasing that light at the end of the tunnel.

Eyes tightly squeezed shut as she hopped up and down, sliding upon Bakugo’s impressive girth, moaning each time his tip poked into her cervix as she clapped down onto his lap again and again and again and again, harder and harder, deeper and deeper, hitting knew spots upon new spots, messaging uncharted territory, rearranging her organs, poking and prodding and fitting so snuggly and perfectly inside her she could all but start crying from the bliss of it all.

She was crying. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks, numb with how warm she was, feverish and febrile and growing madder with pleasure, drunk and drowning in euphoria.

“Fuck.” He stuttered out his gruff moan, barely holding onto her hips anymore.

He'd been inspired and insured that it would be fine to let her move on her own now, knowing he’d made it clear enough she wouldn’t be going anywhere without him being satisfied first, thinking she was showing so much enthusiasm simply to make him come quicker.

He hadn't yet sensed how desperately she was chasing the same release he was, especially since he’d already made sure she came twice before they even started. Once on fingers, once on his tongue. He wasn’t at all thinking she was preparing herself for a third time, especially not on his cock.

Having left her to do all the work for a while now, having been rendered completely blissed-out and awestruck with feeling her eager movements on top of him, he couldn’t really care much for how pathetic a mess he must have looked beneath her.

His eyes scrunched together to hold onto every sharp movement of her hips, lips pursed out and puckered with his grit-teeth, his cock standing proudly, pushing into her again and again at such a fast pace he was barely able to feel his climax coming dangerously close, too numb with pleasure to part it from his release, but as his balls were emptying inside her he shot up into a sitting position in favor of lying down, needing to hold her still so he could pump his load without it spilling, arms reaching around her to keep her pushed down and impaled on him.

She tried humping for more friction even in the tight secured lock, rocking into him, kept snug against his chest, trying so desperately to reach with his cock what was screaming inside her.

He made some indication he was done. His thick arms losing their grip around her torso, head resting on her shoulder as he panted, not yet understanding what hell or heaven he was in for, taken by surprise, by overwhelming panicked surprise.

“No!” She roared out her little whine. Her smaller hands protruding nails digging into his chest to push him back down on the bed, then continuing to ride despite feeling him tense beneath her. 

He tried moving again, fearing, panicking because of his overstimulated cock being continuously pleased almost enough for it to be painful. The hunger already quenched being kept fed, drowning the thirst, so much he felt as though something might burst.

Her hands moved to yank his hair, pulling him back to rest on the pillow, her other hand pushing, seizing around his throat, violating his Adam’s apple, forcing him to gasp as he choked both on the action itself but also at the sheer controversy of it all.

Her mouth hovering above his own as he groaned from the pain of having his hairs ripped from his scalp and his vocal cords abused, whereas she only moaned in return, too concerned with feeling every inch of her being on fire to care.

“Oh fuck, please, Katsuki, please, more.”

Something tight tugged in his pelvis at the same time awe blossomed in his chest at the sight of her and those pretty eyes looking at him with tears and that sweet crinkle of plead between her brows.

His name dripping from her tongue like honey as she continued going up and down the length of his oversensitive cock, slipping even easier in now when coated in his cum. Her thighs sticking to his in juices as her head dipped to lay against his chest while she continued slapping, jumping on his cock with an unrelenting, unsatisfied determination.

His cock throbbed inside her, nearly crying, screaming with something playfully akin to aching, a pressure building again even as he thought it impossible.

She was stabbing herself with his cock, squeezing and seizing and fluttering around the blade, driving him mad.

But as soon as he got over the feeling of bursting, could he pull himself back.

Grabbing her waist and hoisting her off him, she nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.

He pouted in mimic, condescendingly. “Is the little slut begging for more?”

He grinned maniacally as he mounted her, surprised to see and feel her desperately trying to get closer as he pushed her down into the sheets beneath him, lining himself up with her sopping greedy cute little cunt.

He only teased for about a moment more before impaling her on his length once again, pushing all the way into her in a mere swift second, dragging a real pornstar-beautiful moan from her, gleeful to see her squeal with pleasure as he began thrusting into her sharply, angled to hit that sweet blissful spot inside her.

“Be a good girl and cum for me again.” He growled and she swore she felt it like thunder in her stomach, like explosions, like lightning striking. “That’s what you want isn’t it?” The frenzy in his voice, once only terrifying, now made her toes curl and her head feel like cotton. “You want me to make you cum? You want to cum on my cock like a good slut? My slut? Come on, cum for me.”

She was being fucked completely silly.

Tongue falling from her mouth along with a string of wet moans and drool and his name. Her eyes swimming with tears as she tried focusing on his and the gut-churning look of feral dominant lust in the heat of them that had her pussy clenching around him, yet was barely able to hold his gaze as she was being fucked into a cross-eyed mess, feeling the pressure build and build and build and getting so close to bursting she was crying with how she was being kept from her climax by some unknown cruelty.

She just needed him to go harder, go faster.

She just needed more, she just needed him, needed him and his glorious cock to help her.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

-APOLOGY

“I hate you!”

It slipped before she was able to stop it, before she could reconsider, before she could save herself.

She watched with terror-wide eyes locked on his, awaiting whatever awful murderous intent he chose fit for her punishment, and was at once trembling.

Knees growing weak, apologies falling broken on her tongue as her fear’s need to cry outweighed her wish for recovery, resulting in simply blubbering on her sobs. Small frail hands reached out in protection, in a timid means of making him give her a second to gather herself as she fell apart with the painful fear that clenched around her heart, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see, hard to stand, hard to think, hard to do anything except for gasp for air, air that seemed to not want to enter her lungs quick enough.

“Hey, hey… breathe.”

She hadn’t even realised she’d collapsed, nor that Izuku had come to catch her fall, rocking her back and forth in his arms, head resting in his palm. Her eyes wide and frantic as she looked up at him for help, helpless in her crippling anxiety, anxiety he was the trigger of and seemingly the only source of comfort as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please, forgive me, forgive me!” She gulped on shuddering breaths, sobbing, hysterical in her scrambling, so completely panicked, so utterly destroyed by her fear of him, knowing how those hands of his could hold the world just as easy as her head and her heart, where despite knowing that through and through she still sought out the comfort in how his fingers stroked through her locks, petting her calm.

Her hands, retrieving more and more mobility, reached up to fold across his back.

“I don’t hate you, I’m sorry, I’m just stupid, forgive me, I’m just ungrateful and spoiled and stupid.”

Tears rolled down her face as she propped herself up in his lap, hands desperate as she intertwined them in his locks, fervently trying to make up for her mistake, trying to prove she was able to correct herself, that she didn’t need another lesson, another one of his mind-shattering bone-crushing lessons. 

The fact that he’d forced her into a perverted set of lingerie had fallen to waste, the fact that he’d been lecturing her about how she belonged to him, how she had no right to disobey him, how she was just a dumb little girl in a world too big for her to ever possibly understand, how she was good for nothing but being stress-relief for him. None of that mattered anymore.

What mattered was persuading him into taking enough pity on her to let her indiscretion slide.

She just needed to beg enough, she just needed to grovel and plead and cry enough.

“Sweetie…” He hummed, no anger present in his voice, but then again, there never was. Tone always laced or dripping with honey, giving no hint as to where his mindset was or what he was about to do.

And all it managed to do was make her cry harder, hold onto him tighter, fear climbing higher.

“It’s okay, Sweetie… I know you didn’t mean it.”

His words were all but reassuring, as she was waiting for the other side of the coin to show its face, waiting to hear his but’s and if’s and punishments and corrections, waiting for those hands of his to show her, to prove to her what she already knew yet let herself forget, that she was a small helpless stupid girl and he was nothing short of god.

“But…”

And there it was, her worst fear, her worst nightmare, all sounded in one word.

She couldn’t let him continue, and by god she couldn’t let him finish.

Wet soft bloated lips met, or rather pushed, forced themselves upon his stiff ones, suffocating all reprimanding comments, all and everything he was about to say.

She shuffled into a cradling position on his lap, body and chest glued tightly in his embrace, hands running, tangling, gripping desperately onto the emerald locks at the nape of his neck, lips whimpering upon his ones, as though begging them to kiss back.

That desperation tasted delicious on his tongue. How she sat on his lap like some wounded animal, begging for the kind and nurturing hand of their master to help soothe the pain away.

He wasn’t about to discourage that type of behavior, that form of apology.

She wasn’t ready to take his cock, but then again, she never was with how gifted he was and how cursed she were. His cock being so threateningly huge, just like the rest of him.

But given the rest of him was just as threatening, she could manage, she could survive taking but one of his limbs rather than having all his brutal strength take care of her.

So she buttoned up his pants, trembling fingers working hurriedly, spiked by fear of both what was to come and what would come were she to stop. Her mouth still laying sloppy tearful kisses onto his lips, as he didn’t seem to mind just how much she was sobbing to please him.

She was at once stroking him when he was out, her other hand rushing to save her own life as it messaged her clit, trying to warn her of what was to come, what needed to come.

Still he hadn’t said anything, still let her slave for him. Though that might be for the best in this case.

His large hands placed palms down on the floor, simply supporting him as he leaned on them.

When she broke off the kiss, he was about to correct her, yet she ducked quicker, wrapping her warm and wet lips around his cock and giving th head a swirl with her tongue before pushing down as far as she could, glucking on him so eagerly and desperately, rendering what reprimanding movement was to come of his hand to an encouraging petting of her head instead.

She only sucked for a brief moment, leaving the proudly bobbing spit-slicked pole cold once she parted with only strings of drool connecting them. She shuffling back up to align him with her entrance hurriedly.

Her lip quivered as she looked at him to search his stoic features, her body frozen, left to simply hover and sway above his impatient member, as she tried her best to quickly brace herself for the pain she was about to feel.

But then his patience wavered, and strong hands griped her hips and forced her down to take the cock, impaling her as he sheathed himself fully, earning a high-pitched screaming whimper from her.

She fell to his chest, hands tugging his shirt to steady herself as she winced at the feel of him tearing her apart.

“Silly me…” He chuckled, the sound cold and gut-wrenching. “Rewarding you when I should be punishing you.”

She breathed sporadically, hitched and hiccupping.

“I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it-”

Agreeing was the only course of action for her, the only thing she could afford.

“That’s right, you don’t deserve it.”

But the world is far from fair.

TODOROKI SHOTO

-DISTRACTION

He was coming.

He was coming and nothing could stop him, nothing could change his mind, nothing could help and nothing could save her, except maybe the next worst thing.

Bargaining pain with unwanted pleasure, the price being her pride, her dignity, her strength.

It would happen anyway after he was done making pretty artwork of her flesh, after he’d tampered with her limits long enough.

She had the chance to skip to the end. But the price remained her spirit, steep like her fear and heavy like her mind, heart and soul scaled together.

And yet, she made the gamble.

It was either she let him bite, chew and swallow her heart and spirit and soul on repeat or she bit back.

This was her biting back.

This was survival of the fittest.

This was her surviving.

She needed to take her aim now or never, before he did it first. So, she barreled the arrow, struck the bow, leveled her hawkeye and took the shot.

“I love you, Shoto.” She proclaimed.

Arrow flying, hands smooth in receiving his chest before he could tug her towards him. Meeting his hungry approach with a focused desperation of her own, dedicated as she pushed him back so that he was the one sitting and she was the one on top for once.

Hands gentle, without much pressure, drumming up the bruises and scars of his chiseled stomach, one side cold, the other hot.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you?” She questioned.

Time to see if the arrow had hit, lips pressed firmly to his forehead a short second later, before pressing one against his temple, careful to not hurt him where the skin was scarred and sensitive around his eye, then one against his jaw, and neck, and shoulder, and chest, trailing down further and further.

He stirred once she kissed on a particular cut, his hands coming to hold her back as he began sitting up.

Yet she was firm in her resolution, her own hands pushing his shoulders down.

“No, no...” She tutted, tone still soft. Not at all as though she was giving him a demand. Not at all like how he thought a command should sound, what he’d learned his mistakes would grant him from those people he trusted.

Not at all like his father’s voice of tyranny and terror.

“Let me take care of you.” She whispered it, and his heart clenched with memories of how his mother would patch him up after training.

The arrow well planted in his chest now.

“You just lie back...”

She kissed his cheek then, adamant she’d make him cry, make him become soft, help him, to save herself.

“Relax....”

She kissed his lips then and she swore she heard him whimper like a kicked pup, all fragile beneath her, broken and just a boy rather than the cruel man she knew him to be.

And then he was crying. Softly and quietly, but crying nonetheless. Thin streams of saltwater running down the corners of his pretty eyes.

He looked so vulnerable then. Vulnerable like glass, no… like ice melting.

And when the ice had finally melted she could either swim or drown in what ocean was left behind, all depended on how softly she handled him, where one wrong word would make him sharp like bladed icicles again, and the right words would keep him like this. Small, weak, needy, tame. You can only kiss storms when you’re right in the eye of them, where one misstep will send you flying, falling, to your despair, to your death.

She could make no mistakes.

She aligned her naked sex up with his. The steam in the room layered thick with dew on their naked bodies, alongside nervous sweat.

“You and I are the only ones that matter in this entire world, Shoto…”

She sat down, hungrily ripping a groan from his chest at her almost brutal pace, and she moaned as she dipped down to lay herself on his chest, feeling him sink and twitch inside her, fill her up so perfectly, like two things falling into sync, like yin and yang, like balance.

“It’s only you and me between heaven and hell.”

She whispered the words like a chant, like witchcraft, the breath of them tickling his skin as she kissed down his pelvis, still firmly planted on top of him, hand trailing after, running over him smoothly and precisely, careful in their venture, before dropping down from the loft of his hips to entangle her small breakable finger in his destructive hands

“And everything else is just falling snow…”

She rocked her hips, like a smooth wave rolling into shore, thighs cradling his torso snugly, keeping him safe and trapped beneath her as she continued lolling forward on repeat, tentatively feeling after the pressure his hands gave hers, how tightly he squeezed, if it were a form of encouragement or discomfort, their wrists laid on the warmth of her thighs.

“I love you, Snow-Angel.” He cried, voice jagged and so far away from anything she’d ever heard.

And though this was what she’d been aiming for, having it enrol before her was a frightening type of uncharted waters she hadn’t at all any knowledge of how to tackle.

And that fear, the fear of drowning, increased so spectacularly when he sat up.

His fingers slipping from hers, leaving her control and wrapping around her torso instead, tightly, so tightly she feared he’d break her spine.

And then the heat followed, the blistering heat.

And then the cold, the promise of frostbite.

But then… he was still crying...

Crying like a toddler into her shoulder, nuzzling in her neck and all those terrifying and painful promises seemed to mellow, leaving her unscathed yet panicked, as without the pain she had no way of knowing when or where to go, resulting to her simply sitting there, comforting her captor, speared on his cock of her own choosing, with his tears running down her back.

Her heart beating painfully rapid in her chest as she slowly and unsurely raising her freed fingers to wrap into his dual-coloured locks, petting his head and hoping, praying she wasn’t falling prey to any false sense of safety.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

-HABIT

They were doing what they always did.

Simply lounging.

Slugged on the bed, in each-other’s arms. Sickly sweet fumes in the dank room. Air thick like a cloud, dark and grey and matt.

The walls having been erased or rather blurred out into nothing, leaving them there, floating in and about nothing, each-other’s warmth the only constant.

Where in the complete lack of scheduling it had become like schedule, like ritual to simply lay and do nothing, then do something that threw them back into exhaustion which in turn resulted in yet again doing nothing, except maybe sleep.

The day lacked much, and in its lacking there were certain expectations, certain instincts and impulses that had arisen inside her.

She knew something was coming, anticipation, she knew something was supposed to come, and yet they still laid there and did nothing, when they were supposed to be doing… well… something, so that they yet again could go back to doing nothing.

It was safe to say her head had become rather empty at this point.

“Are we forgetting something?” She felt the need to ask, felt the need to hear Dabi tell her, give orders in where she should go and what she should say, something not allowing her to feel the terror of why those necessasties had become second nature or why she found refuge in them.

He mumbled in return, tone dark and scratchy like gravel or coal, evoking something to twist in her lower abdomen and purr with pleasure. “And what would that be?”

Dabi’s hand still fingered a rolled blunt, perfect with his expertise and nimble lanky fingers. Hand dragged to his mouth to take the final blow, smoke puffed out into the small space of the bedroom, layered thickly in the air.

Her eyes puffy and watery and red yet remaining open out of habit. Her lips burned, or rather stung, prickled from the after affects, her mouth dry as though full of ash, and as she breathed she felt the scratchy raw feeling of her throat by how much she’d been coughing earlier.

Dabi was always certain she didn’t take proper drags, therefore resulting in taking the drag for her, locking his lips painfully tight around hers, blowing until her face turned red and he could be sure the smoke reached her lungs. He was never satisfied before her eyes glossed over, blank and stupid, blinking at him so softly, as all off her became softer and softer, both her gaze, her voice, her words, her actions, her thoughts, her resistance.

“I don’t know…” She honestly didn’t, all she felt was that something was missing, that she required something, or that something was required of her, the feeling that she was supposed to be doing something or have something done to her. 

Dabi turned his head to look at her, inspecting her features, the cute confusion warping her face into a feeble timid expression, brows softly scrunched together, eyes focusing on nothing yet something as she raked through her empty head, her foggy ditzy subdued head.

A look of near endearment present on his face as he watched on for a second for the sake of amusement.

He cupped her cheek, her eyes quickly skittering to meet his, as though on command, knowing by instinct that was what she was supposed to do.

“Are you waiting for something, doll?”

Her lips quivered, and he could already spot the brimming of bubbling tears that came flooding to the surface. Soon to be spluttering out hopeless mumbles if he didn’t save her from the fall first. He was almost tempted not to, if only to scoop up what was left afterwards, put the pieces back together in whatever order he so wished, but he was feeling benevolent tonight.

His smile was soft as it neared her, deceptively so, kind and well-wishing, as his lips met with hers.

It felt like salvation, it felt like peace, it felt like all was falling into place, the way they should be, and she felt safe, no… she felt saved. From what? She did not know, as she had not the mind to care. All she had the mind for was to kiss back.

She moved more on her own now, with the reminder of his tongue in her mouth, the taste making her feel like she was being welcomed home.

Leg sweeping over his to plant herself in his lap, in her rightful place, feeling the all too familiar poking of his hard cock kept bulged beneath the comfort or discomfort of his briefs and jeans, brushing into and past the thin fabric of her cotton laced panties, soon to be drenched, as on cue, as though she’d been taught that would be best.

Her eyes were wide, wide with falling, with being lost, with wanting him to catch her, to save her, wide with waiting, hanging onto his every movement, as though incapable of doing anything on her own, as though only capable of taking orders. Just as he’d shaped her.

His finger drummed alongside her thighs where she knelt on his cock. His other hand doing the same, meeting where his jeans were kept on, unbuttoning, then zipping down, all so slowly, all to watch her features turn even more lost, into something that looked so adorably like hope.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He pulled his stiff dick out of his boxers, having it spring and stand proudly in the air, curved and pierced with all sorts of fun.

She licked her lips mindlessly, eyeing the pole, wanting, no, needing, no… compelled to pull her underwear aside, revealing what dripping drooling well-trained mess had pooled from her.

Feeling so utterly fulfilled, it feeling so positively right, as though what she’d lost was now returned, was she’d been missing she’d found, and what more, what she’d been missing had been missing her as well, hungrily so, painfully so. It was all she could think of when she eased down onto the towering pole until she was filled up to the brim, only to push down some more to envelope him entirely, feel him stretch and curve inside her.

More after that, she didn’t know what she needed to do, but she was sure she’d know once she got there, she was sure Dabi would be a saint and tell.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

-BOREDOM

She was losing her mind.

It was a horrendous type of silence. Silence that wasn’t really silence at all as it was cut and sliced and murdered and bled out into the tactless endless mocking clicking of Tomura’s consoler.

Sharp aggressive smacks where he thumbed the joysticks, quick slaps with his long veiny bony fingers slamming with unneeded force into fragile buttons. 

She felt the sting in her temple, eyes squeezed so impossibly tight to a close as her ears sung with irritation.

“I’m done.”

She only barely recognised her own voice. Though she knew she mouthed the words and she knew she added timber and tone to sound them, but that whine, that sickly sweet defeat that laced the syllables, as though she were crying, as though she were begging, that wasn’t her, but that was who she’d become.

“You win.”

And she wasn’t at all sure if she cared anymore about her defeat.

“No… I’m about to.” He mumbled, eyes glancing to her briefly, split-secondly, before they swiftly, with lightning speed, stuck back to watch the bright screen a foot in front of him, the clicking made by his ruthless fingers never once stopping.

She wondered how such force was even possible, given he had to lift one digit on each hand in order not to destroy what he held so preciously. How he had the grip, the agility, the mobility and speed and precision was something that spurred through her mind each time she watched him go on, winning more so than losing. She guessed it was practice. Sometimes it would amaze her, somedays she would watch mindlessly as he sped through all levels, all ranks, all challenges, all side quests, win after win, wondering if it even posed any challenge, any stimulation when he seemed to complete them all with such ease and finesse, effortlessly.

Sometimes it would amaze her, but this was not one of those times.

She swore her ears were bleeding, they were screaming and crying and strangling all wishes she had of sleep. The bed was too soft and everything was too soft, too quiet, yet not quiet at all and she was so fucking bored, so fucking drained of everything and anything except irritation and the need for something and anything, something loud, something sharp to wake her up, something terrifying or something anything everything that could make her feel something anything everything.

She needed it, and she needed it desperately, all things aside, fuck who she was, and especially fuck that shitty fucking game he was playing.

“Fuck! Your stupid! Game! Tomura!”

She hadn’t even realized she’d slid off the bed and was standing on her numb feet, game controller snatched from him in one second and smashed to smithereens on the wall in the next.

She looked more shook than him, if he was being honest.

Nonetheless.

“What the fuck?!”

He was mad, no, he was fuming.

And she lived for it.

“I swear, you’re gonna pay-”

He hadn’t even reached her before her lips split into a grin, eyes like lightning awaiting the thunder.

“Gladly, punish me, do something, do anything!”

She wasn’t proud with her playful hinting, but you aren’t supposed to live your life without doing things you regret. And though she was playing spoiled brat for a notorious villain, the most dangerous individual she’d ever met, he also had a cock crafted by monsters that seemed to hit every spot it needed to, finding and creating new ones as it filled her up to the brim and she was salivating just by the thought of being split open on it, especially by seeing what mood she’d conjured from him.

But, even though her pride dripped from between her thighs, she was not too eager to plainly say that she desired his dick balls-deep within her needy cunt.

“What?”

He’d stopped in his tracks, eyeing her. And though some part of him wanted to believe what disgusting depraved thoughts he had regarding why she was seeking his attention, he knew better, rendering her annoyance to simply picking a fight with her captor, quite like a how child throws tantrums at their parents or prisoners riot.

Turns out her playful words did little to sway his thoughts regarding the situation.

“You’ve been playing your dumb videogames all week!” She whined, almost screeching. Eyes angry and lips pouty.

He wanted nothing more but to show her what bad behaviour would give her, but seeing how punishment would be giving her what she had requested, he wasn’t too quick to fold to his desires.

“It feels like I’m dying, make me feel something, anything…”

She was pleading he realized, and stopped in wonder at the revelation.

She was pleading with him, begging for him, for anything of him, anything meaning anything…

Yet… surely not what he wanted it to mean.

“No.” He forced on a nonchalant tone. “You smashed my controller, I’m not rewarding you for that, there are nicer ways of asking…” He drawled and turned casually to get back in his chair, pondering his need to purchase another custom-made console, thinking he had a couple things he wanted to fix anyway.

Was she really going to have to be so literal? Was she really going to have to bend over and beg for him to take her? Was she really going to have to serve him her heart, her spirit, her mind, and soul and body on a silver platter for him to take it?

She thought he was greedy. She thought he was depraved enough to hear what she was asking of him.

No way he was ignoring the invitation, right?

If that were the case, he could at least mock her for her begging, but he barely seemed to even recognise her change in attitude at all. Granted, she couldn’t really see much of his expression beneath that mop of hair.

She wanted to scream, pull her hair out of her head, yet as her knees hit the floor and Tomura sat back down in his chair, she realized she had but one thing to do.

Crawl.

She was silent, shuffling under the table, taking one gluttonous drag through her nose, mouth watering at the reek of male musk, his musk, Tomura’s musk, a smell so undeniably him.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him know she was there yet, but decided to be a tease and better prepare him for what she was about to do.

Experienced and confident fingers pressed a woman’s touch to his ankles, running skilled tender touches over the flexing of his calves’ muscles, despite feeling him tense beneath her. Undiscouraged as they went smoothly over his thighs to reach the hem of his boxers, reaching inside them to pull out what she was proud to feel thick and stiff and just as needy as her, warm and pulsating in her tiny palm.

Handling him delicately. First she licked her lips wet and gave the head a pretty popping kiss, before producing her tongue like a pillow for the cap and flicking the pink muscle from side to side under the sensitive skin that was already oozing with precum onto her tastebuds.

She her his breath stifle, but allowed him no rest as she closed her warm wet mouth around him.

He broke instantly.

Now knowing it wasn’t his mind playing tricks.

“Fuck! You win, you win!” He hissed, hand wrapping around her throat to pull her up from her conquering. “If I’d known what a needy little slut you were I'd have given you cock earlier. You should’ve just said so...”

They both giggled ludically as he threw her down on the bed, Thrill already bubbling up a storm on her insides with such lust to be fucked out of her bloody mind she was quaking from head to toe and screaming out her moan when he pushed perfectly into her wetness in one fell swoop.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

-NECESSITY

He heard the padding of her approach. Soft footed and gentle. Not at all like how she would usually stomp around in rage of being trapped.

He didn’t look up at first, thinking she didn’t want anything to do with him, as per usual, yet in his blurry unfocused vision he could spot she’d stopped in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgement, where he sat on the coach, undisturbed and undisturbing until now, scrolling through his phone.

He decided to ignore her, testing to see if she’d speak up and announce her demands, yet was surprised to see she stood there patiently, no words, no screams.

Curiosity getting the better of him he looked up, finding her standing there bare-footed, skin wet, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping, eyes leaking, though not from shower-water, but from brimming with tears.

His instincts kicked in then at the sight of her.

“Are you okay?”

He sprung from the coach, expecting her to push him away once he reached for her, yet was surprised to feel her attach to him, latch around him, welcome his warmth and his offered condolence instead of her usual rejection and snarling.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, why are you crying?”

He realized then that her body was quaking, seemingly febrile, so much plead knotted between her brows he’d never seen anything like it.

It made him concerned to say the least, eyes searching her body for any possible explanation in the form of bruises, thinking maybe she’d hurt herself, already scolding himself for having left her alone.

“Baby? What's going-”

He didn’t smell it at first, what with the scent being washed off and all at the hands of her shower, but the aroma was soon layered thick in the room, growing alongside her desperation.

A scent so heavenly, so lavish and sweet and ambrosial, already making water pool in his mouth.

Her shaking made sense then, so did the tears, and the desperation and the potent adorable look of despair written all over her pitiful little cute face.

“Oh… I see.”

He was going to take advantage of this.

He was going to ring it for every drop it was worth.

“Does my little angel need me?” His voice shed its concern swiftly, curling into something sweetly sadistic and salacious.

His fingers hung onto her chin, or rather, her chin hung off his fingers.

“If you ask nicely perhaps I’ll-”

“You’re being cruel.” She stated, voice so sweet, so vulnerable, breaking as she sniffled, bottom lip trembling so preciously, as he wasn’t sure the shower-water was instead not indeed sweat. Knees weak, arms heavy, head pounding, stomach hurting, eating her from the inside in desperate need to feed the bottomless hunger that was growing and weeping in her lower abdomen.

Her hand held loosely over her stomach, visibly shaking.

He ignored her statement. “That was a long shower…” It was an insinuating observation, cocky in its nature. “Were you trying to help yourself on the showerhead?”

He quirked a brow at him, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Trying to get out of grovelling for me, hm? Despite knowing how my cock is the only thing that can save you.”

He was gleeful, sadistic bliss tickling through his body, sending pleasure through every nerve, because he knew, he knew he was right and he knew what was coming. He knew she would fold, surrender, succumb, and he knew how grateful she’d be afterwards, dripping with his cum, eyes opium-blown, euphoric and fluttering, and looking at him with such wholehearted, such won-over love.

Though, know all that filled her eyes were glistening tears and swirling suffering.

“It hurts…”

His heart clenched at that.

She looked like a toddler, small and weak and helpless and innocent, as though if it weren’t for her predicament she wouldn’t be abusing every ounce of energy in her being to make him miserable.

How ironic, she being the miserable one now, all dependent on him.

“It hurts, please, please help me, help me, Keigo.”

She was aching. Her small needy hands coming to grab at him, to pull him closer as she sobbed, whining so beautifully for him.

“I need you, Keigo.”

He was getting wrapped up in it, hanging onto every perfect needy jerking she did to try and get closer, to try and help herself against him, licking it up as though he was parched

And he was, he truly was, she’d drained him dry, rejecting each and every proclamation of his love. She’d laughed at it, waged war against it, and here she was, finally, embracing it, begging for it.

He realized, he needed this just as much as she did.

He didn’t need anything weightless like a stupid apology, he just needed to hear her say those pretty words.

“I need Hawks.”

Her eyes grew dark, pupils blown wide with lust as her words were laced with such feral carnality.

His hands grabbed ahold of her ample hips, grinding her into himself, where she met his attack by effortlessly maneuvering her legs to wrap around his torso, hands cupping his face as she peered into his eyes, wanting to drown herself in the gold.

“I need you deep inside me, filling me up, wreaking me…”

Her lips hovered above his own as she clutched tightly onto him, begging with every inch of her body, clinging to him as though it were for her very life.

“I need your cum, I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk or talk or think or feel, until I’m numb and all I can see is you, all I can think is you, all I am is you and yours.”

He was left awestruck by the way she looked at him, as though he were the world, or her god, with so much love and so much desperate desire and fear.

A fear he’d come to know all too much chasing her. A fear of rejection, a fear of having her heart broken, a feeling that’s all too much like dying.

“I need your love, please, please love me, Keigo.”

He couldn’t refuse, despite wanting to have used this opportunity as a lesson, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her suffering and he most definitely couldn’t leave himself suffering now that his cock was hungry for the attention she was all too eager to give him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

-SUBMITANCE

She knew she should be disgusted, she knew she should be angry, she should be fighting it.

If she were the feral creature quite alike the lioness or tigress or any other wild cat, she should by law be scratching and clawing and snarling. She should revolt, reject, uproar at the feel of a collar around her throat.

But here she was, big wide glossy opium-soaked eyes staring up at her Master and his compelling lilac orbs, feeling her stomach curl at the feel of his big fist tugging her leash as he hovers above her, purring like a little kitten, like the little kitten she was, at the feel of his swollen thick cock filling her up so snuggly, breeding her good, while she drools at the collar put, not just on her throat, but on her mind, panting over the thought of having his commands lick every nerve of her body, making her twist and bend and bow all to his wishes.

Fluffy tail wrapped around his leg, holding onto him in the softest form of embrace as her hands are otherwise occupied with being tied to the bed-post.

She whimpered, aching fingers wanting to touch, to run smooth soft fingertips over his skin, his scars, tangle in his wild lavish purple locks.

She bit her lip and clenched around the member inside her, making him groan as he bottomed-out and pulled back again.

“Could- could Master… untie me?” She needed to ask, voice timid and hopeful, again feeling him slowly inch into her core, messaging her insides, her walls kissing alongside his girth, sucking on him gratefully.

He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask why, or to tell her why he couldn’t do that.

“I want to touch you…” She pleaded, a confession so sweet and voice anything but brazen or wanton, blinking shamefully, guilty of her lust, even though in the light of what he’d done to her and made her do to him, it sounded like mere child’s play, something she shouldn’t even be allowed to be embarrassed about.

His eyes scanned her, curious, doubting her, yet having felt how her legs wrapped around his torso, and the ever-playful cuddling tail that had slithered between his thighs and latched itself around his ankle, tugging on him like such a clingy little devoted kitty.

His lips curled up into a smile, looking down at his little bashful housebroken pet, thrilled to see her look up at him too, eyes full of awe on both sides, lustful, loving.

He pushed himself fully into her, cockhead kissing her cervix, and she gave a mew, moaning while he bowed down to meet her lips with his.

His hands danced up her arms, drumming alongside her limbs before they met with the knots around her wrists, tugging them loose.

Once she was free she hesitated. Eyes still so wide, as though asking for permission, as though asking for guidance, or… as though she were waiting for him to tell her what to do, and then, as though a question was burning at her lips.

“Master… ask me a question?” She requested, slowly bringing her hands down from their position, placing them around the back of his neck, fingers playing with his soft wild hair.

He needed to take a second or two to really fathom what she’d just said, where his mind seemed to leap once he did.

“Something you don’t want the answer to.”

He swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a rush of blood pool in his cheeks. His breathe grew heavy and eyes intense.

“Do you know what you’re asking?”

He needed to be sure, he needed to hear her say it, admit to it

His doubts were answered as she blinked, biting her lips, looking away shyly, clearly knowing how wrong it was of her to request him entering and playing with her mind like that.

“Yes…”

He couldn’t help but smile at her timidity, how she blushed under his gaze. But still, he needed her to give him the entirety of her desire.

“Tell me…”

He rested his forehead on her hers, happy with butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her affectionate hands running through his locks.

“What do you want from me, Kitten?”

Her breath shuddered, legs climbing higher up his back, pulling him closer. Their eyes so adamant on looking, drowning in the other. His storm of lilac so dominant and dangerous, making her mouth water and toes curl and head flutter with knowing how she was completely trapped, completely where he wanted her, loving it all the same, finding refuge in the fact, finding safety and belonging and peace.

“I want…”

Her eyes where only wide, wide with hope and searching for if he’d catch her when she now jumped, leaped into his arms.

“I want you. I want your- your teeth in my mind, marking me, making me yours, making me… feel…”

All of her was clinging to him now, her tail so neatly and snuggly slithered around his ankle, as though chaining him to her, her hands as well entangled with the unruly hair at the nape of his neck, her legs wrapped around him so tightly and desperately, pussy clenching around his cock like a vice, and her eyes hanging off of all and everything of what was giving her.

“Making you feel what?” He pushed, giving another thrust where he barely pulled out only to rock into her again.

“Safe.”

That was such an innocent word, such a sweet wish it made his heart hurt with something he couldn’t quite place, whether it was guilt or satisfaction he couldn’t tell.

“Will you do that? For me?”

He could get lost in those eyes of hers forever, those moon-big round eyes, opium-black and blown pupils so wide he thought he was falling through space with how much they reflected the limited light inside their room.

“Do you love me?” He asked then, fearing the answer.

“Yes.”

A word can be so many things, a vow, a promise, an echo, a welcome.

Her eyes went blank then, but not before she gave the softest hum as though to say thank you as she felt his presence seep into her mind. Her limbs losing all types of stress, becoming numb and soft. All her worries blanketed, where all she dreamt of was velvet lilac-tinted oceans, getting drunk on grapes and the smell of lavender and all things purple like those great godlike eyes staring down at her, the ones keeping her spellbound and tethered in a deadlock, the ones she belonged to.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

-COMFORT

The slamming shut of the apartment door, followed by the digital clicking of the lock being closed is how she knew he was home.

He hadn’t said anything.

Where usually he would at least greet her as she quickly sprung across the marble floors to welcome him home, take his jacket, kiss his cheek, all so perfectly like he’d taught her.

He hadn’t said anything.

No ‘I missed you’ or ‘thank you, princess’.

He hadn’t said anything at all.

But most things with Kai weren’t verbal anyway.

She’d learned to pick up cues, analyze a raised brow, or a slight shift in posture, or the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.

He hadn’t said anything, but the scowl that accompanied his aura spoke volumes to the girl. Finding his state of mind, concerned with what she found, as it was not his usual nonchalance nor his occasional contempt, but bitter.

He groaned then, once she’d helped him out of his jacket, green and tacky, purple faux fluff, something so out-of-place on Kai, yet also serving as one of his key recognizable traits.

He kicked off his shoes, also something so very out of character it brought her concern, followed by him shuffling, feet dragging on the floors in complete opposition to how he would usually walk, with his head held high, regarding the floor as though it should be grateful to be gifted by him walking on it.

Now though, he slumped, still without a word, up the stairs, sauntering without haste, without enthusiasm, all in goal of reaching the bed, which he laid out flat on once he got to it.

“Are you okay?” She asked timidly, having followed him and standing unsurely on the threshold of the door, not knowing whether she was welcome or not.

He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, giving her the answer she’d guessed already.

“Can I do anything to help?” Again, she kept her voice soft and tender, hopeful; cheerful in hopes of cheering him up.

“I doubt it.” His answer was curt and bitter as he sat up on the bed, tugging loose his tie with an exhausted growl of irritation.

She padded around the bed then, not exactly having been given an invitation to stay, but not exactly having been given any indication to leave either.

Careful as she climbed up behind him, like a cat easing in on its prey, gracious and soft and focused on not alarming or disturbing the goal.

“Surely there must be something I can do?”

His ears picked up on the play in her voice, the thin hairs at the back of his neck rising, yet his curiosity was stifled as her hands, once so small and insignificant, became the hands of God.

Fingers kneading into his back, thorough and forceful yet welcomed by him through a breathy guttural groan, closing his eyes with much needed rest as he let himself fall completely to the feeling of her messaging all his tense stress right out of his shoulders, seemingly sucking all the bad out of him.

He gave yet another throaty groan as her fingers rubbed and dug into his back, her hand stopping his head from slugging forward, cupping him tenderly and guided him to rest against the softness of her chest instead.

“Do you feel better now?”

She spoke like how a mother should, sweet like summer breeze, just above a whisper, eager to please, affectionate, without ill-will, without anything to gain, selfless and beautiful, and something he was in desperate need of.

He moaned, a long dragged out breathy moan, one filled with such potent gratitude it made her smile.

“Getting there...”

She hummed, her hands like absolution handling his back like dough, thumbs rubbing the stiffness into tender soft flesh once again, working through the knots, before climbing, mounting his shoulders and ensnaring his neck, gentle fingers running smoothly to unbutton his shirt, her face nuzzling in his neck as it was exposed to her, soft plump lips kissing the sensitive skin found there, knowing exactly where to focus, hearing him moan in relief as she zeroed in on his soft-spot.

Her hands running, dancing down his chest, unbuttoning the last of his buttons, helping him slide out of it.

Quick to take her bra off, still while kissing his neck, before pushing her warm soft mounds into his back, hugging herself against him.

“How about now?” Her voice like honey as her words tickled on his neck.

“Almost…”

She slithered around to seat herself in his lap, hands cupping his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss him, naked chest rubbing up against naked chest, warm and soft, homey and safe. 

Her hand drummed playfully down his stomach, reaching his pants, moving skillfully on its own to undo the belt-buckle, then the button, then pulling down the zipper.

He shuffled them down his thighs on his own, still keeping his chin lifted to receive her kisses. His clothed erection bumping up into the thin protection of her panties.

Her hand, still so smoothly, reached under the band of his boxers to pull him out. Though his rough way of ripping her lacy underwear off managed to break through her calm demeanor as she yelped a bit and flinched.

However the surprise was quickly followed by giggles as she continued to kiss him, feeling his smirk against her lips and soon his hand cupping her ass before running hungry pressured fingertips around her thigh to play with her slit, thumb roughly pushing into her clit as other reckless digits ran though her folds to test the waters, quite parallel to how carefully she handled his cock with her own elegant hand, rubbing him up and down ever so gently, with the tenderness he carved.

He hissed once her thumb rubbed over his sensitive head, biting into her lip, and though his beastly impulses used to alarm her, now she could only think of them as an invitation.

Holding his cock up to her entrance, giving him time to remove his fingers from her now soaking folds. 

She sunk down on him slowly, moaning softly against his lips as he groaned upon hers. 

“Better now?” She asked, without giving way to the cockiness her question carried, but he deciphered it with ease nonetheless, giving her ass a playful squeeze before guiding her to lay down on her back, nibbling on her neck as he chuckled at how she disguised her devilish naughty humour as being innocent, wanting to make her choke on that haughtiness as he gave a quick sharp thrust up into her.

Her moan rung throughout the massive penthouse where no doors were kept closed, as he licked the sin right off her expression with one needy hungry kiss and a promise as well as a threat.

“I will be once I hear you scream my name, princess.”

TIP-JAR

[yanderes-galore]

Hiya hiii hello greetings (yes I am very annoying 🥹) could I please request yandere toga?

If you want to write for this here you go!

Fandom: Mha

Character: yandere Toga Himiko(or someone else if you want)

Type: headcanons

If you need a personality for the reader you can use this

Personality: shy, smart, cutish like toga somehow just got very clingy towards them

Yeah, sure! Sorry for the long wait :( You're not annoying! I hope she isn't OOC as I'm not sure if she changes her persona later on in the series a ton or not- Aged up as usual.

Yandere! Himiko Toga Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Blood, Blood drinking, Sadism, Torture, Stalking, Kidnapping, Violence, Murder implied, Jealousy, Clingy/Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Threats, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.

It's clear in canon that Toga has a very unhealthy sense of love.

This is presumably due to her having a blood quirk.

While she is compassionate at times, most of the time she's going to put her darling through pain.

She claims it's out of love.

None of what she does to you is any healthy form of love.

Towards you she acts very loud and cheerful.

But she's dangerous and won't mind hurting anyone around you.

Toga would be Obsessive, Sadistic, Clingy/Possessive, Manipulative, Compassionate, Easily jealous, Unpredictable, and Violent as a yandere.

She's almost a classic yandere in terms of behavior.

Although she tends to have an obsession with collecting some of your blood.

Toga probably grew fond of you if you're connected to Izuku or just somehow cross her path.

Poor luck, honestly.

After that the villain stalks you closely.

She really does crave a genuine friendship/relationship.

It's her execution that's the problem.

Toga gets extremely obsessive about her darling.

You quickly become her newest obsession and are all she can think about.

The idea of you and her together fuels her pursuit of you.

That and the fantasy of making you bleed.

Obviously as a villain and someone with a blood quirk, she's sadistic.

The moment she cuts your skin, she wants more.

She wants to cut you and keep your blood...

She wants to be close to you.

Storing/tasting your blood is the best way to do it in her eyes.

Also, once Toga manages to get her hands on you she's clingy.

She hates the thought of letting you go or letting anyone else have you.

When she does drag you to the League of Villains against your will, they are told to stay away.

Only she can hurt you, only she can hold you, only she can love you and make you bleed.

Toga is very adamant on making it known you two are meant for each other.

When you're kidnapped she'll be sure it'll be just you and her.

Toga is manipulative, which makes sense.

Her quirk is based on deception and she can be threatening.

The way she clings to you, tone sickeningly sweet, strikes fear into you.

She has the ability to be intimidating and uses fear to get her darling to listen to her.

She wants companionship between you two but it can frustrate her when you refuse.

You two have very different views on what's normal.

Despite Toga being unstable and sadistic, there's times she's softer.

She genuinely cares for you even if you still need to warm up to her.

She sits beside you softly, trying to calm you if you breakdown due to the situation.

This softer behavior is conflicting with your views towards her.

Toga is easily jealous and experiences mood swings.

She's capable of care... but the more sadistic part of her obsession towards you is much more thrilling to her.

She could be so happy and clingy towards you, yet when someone tries to step in...

She swaps her mood quickly to be more hostile.

Toga is very obsessive with her darling to the point she'll harm anyone who threatens her fantasy.

She's capable of murder, torture, and kidnapping with little remorse.

When hostile she can be quite the problem.

You may be able to disarm her rage, however.

With her violence, bursts of compassion, and random mood swaps... Toga is a very unpredictable yandere.

You won't know how long she's stalked you...

You won't know when she'll kill for you...

You won't know when she'll decide to harvest your blood for herself again...

The thing that makes her the most dangerous as a yandere is her unpredictability.

You can't read her and your efforts to sway her behavior may not work.

Toga loves everything about you even if you're afraid of her.

She's delusional and unstable, unable to determine healthy connections.

You'll always be on your toes with her as your yandere...

She always manages to surprise you with her obsession towards you.

[missheavenfield1215]

Ok yes, I also made this one another AU...

"Driver's Seat AU"

What would have happened if Lydia had been slow to murder Beetlejuice?

(based on the plot of the musical)

In this AU, the marriage between Lydia and Beetlejuice causes him to become an ordinary human, as he has given up his immortality to marry Lydia, causing him to expel his demonic powers.

Lawrence coughs very violently and expels a mass of black tar, which splits in two and becomes wedding rings for both of them. But when Lawrence falls unconscious, he is taken to the guest room, where unfortunately, he will spend 5 years in a coma. Lydia feels quite sad for him, so she never missed a single day of those 5 years, to greet him to say good morning and talk to him to accompany him. (Both Lydia and Lawrence cannot take off the ring, because it is intrinsically linked to their soul)

But when Lydia is in College and returns home for Christmas break, she learns that Lawrence has woken up from the coma. When Lydia arrives, she surprises him playing the piano with envious mastery.

But when he looks at her, he seems absolutely surprised but seems to know her from somewhere. As the two get a little more familiar, Lydia realizes that Beetlejuice seems to be much kinder, sweeter, polite, respectful and even tender. It seems that when he became human, all of his disgusting attitudes left along with the demonic part of him.

It turns out that Lawrence has asked everyone in the house to call him that and after a while, Adam and Barbara suspect that all his memories and behaviors of Beetlejuice are gone, he is just a version without the desperate loneliness and misery that Bj was sunk in. Lawrence is a wise and empathetic young man, since there were small memories of everything he learned from living with the recently deceased people.

But, once Lawrence feels comfortable, he confesses to Lydia that he has only seen her in his dreams and was wondering when they could met.

But Lawrence is surprised to learn that they are actually married.

And yes, I based the human version of Beetlejuice on Alex Brightman... I still hate myself for that... But drawing Alex is quite challenging, since he is the first real person on whom I base my own design.

"Umm I remember seeing you in my dreams... Isn't it weird??"

"Wait... We are married?!?"

But there's something else... Within Lawrence's mind, Beetlejuice continues to exist as a second personality and manifests only to make Lawrence feel helpless and let him take control over his body again.

So, Beetlejuice, using Lawrence's romantic interest in Lydia, threatens him...

"What did you do to her, you monster?!

"Well... All I will say is that she didn't marry us exactly for "love"... "

Beetlejuice really wants to be back in control of his body, so they both face off in one song and yes..... It's as if Beetlejuice and Dewey Finn are facing off in a fight for control of his body.

Juno found out that Beetlejuice managed to become human, it is then that she seeks him out to return him to the Netherworld and that means that Lydia is in imminent danger.

After the song, Lawrence agrees to let Beetlejuice take control of his body, as he has complete control of his powers and so they can both defend Lydia from Juno.