#and taking something dark and horrifying and turning it into something beautiful and comfortable and safe.

[littlekingbergara]

YOU HAVE A SALLIE HOUSE AU????

kinda!! it lives in my head and in the tags of a few posts but basically i love the sallie house and i think it's neat that the kitchen cabinets have hearts on them. and like look at them the first time they're there. they look so cute in that little living room.

like imagine if they weren't there because of ghosts and demons and instead they looked at that little house in little atchison kansas and thought it could be their home. maybe it needs some work but maybe so do they. but there's space to live and space to grow (nursery upstairs) and like. this is Their place now!!! i just love it.

[rs-hawk]

Female human x vampire!gf and dragon!gf

Fluffy/smut

Plz

I'm touch-starved

Honestly? Getting lost on that castle tour was the best thing that ever happened to you. You ended up trapped in a hidden hallway, with only the the torches lining the walls to guide you. Panic and fear welled up inside of you, as did tears. As you leaned against the wall, you slowly slid down it until you hit the ground with a soft thunk.

“Now now there. You don’t have to be so scared. It’s just the dark,” a hissing voice seemed to come from everywhere, making you curl more into yourself.

“Not everyone has night vision as excellent as yours, my love,” a purring sort of voice answered.

You wiped your tears away, feeling your pockets for your keys. Sure, they weren’t much, and you typically weren’t afraid of other women, but being lost and scared made you feel more paranoid than you usually did. Stumbling to your feet, you turned towards the side of the hallway you thought the voices were coming from.

There was the clicking of heels and the sound of… wings? The second sound puzzled you enough to make you drop your guard, your head tilted as you tried to identify it. Yeah, wings. You were fairly certain of that.

Into view stepped a beautiful woman. Tall, elegant, with pearl-like skin. It seemed to shimmer under the torchlight, and it was so clear, so pale, that it seemed nearly opaque. Her eyes were dark and slightly sunken in, but that did nothing to take away from her stunning beauty. Despite the terror that began clawing at your brain when you saw her, something in you screaming Predator. Danger, you couldn’t bear to look away from her.

The only reason you looked away was the creature that landed next to her. A towering terror of a woman that made your mouth go dry with a mix of want and fear. Her eyes were slitted, and teeth too long, too sharp, for her mouth protruded from it, reminding you of a crocodile’s maw. Her nails were long, black claws that were carefully draped over the pale woman’s shoulders. She had to stoop to fit in the hallway. It was no wonder that she was flying, using wings that were half tucked behind her back.

“You’re…,” you trailed off, staring at them in wonder. A thousand words filled your mind to describe them.

“Frightful?” the pale woman asked, flashing a fanged smile.

“Disgusting?” the dragon woman echoed, tilting her head as she looked at you.

“Horrid?”

“Horrifying?”

“Monstrous!”

The last one made them both laugh, but you stayed rooted to the spot in awe. “Stunning,” you whisper, feeling like you were in a trance state.

That made the laughter die on both of their lips as they turned back to look at you, now looking curious and slightly confused. “Is that so?” the pale woman, a vampire if you had to guess, inquired, her clicking heels echoing in the empty hallway and she sauntered closer to you.

“Wow,” was all you could think of as she closed the gap, taking your chin in her hand. Her cool touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you stared up at her, mouth slightly open with an unfounded excitement.

The Dragon chuckled as she dropped to her hands and knees, crawling over like a lizard would run. You tore your gaze from the Vampire just to be able to look at her with that same awe and wonder. She popped up besides the Vampire, running a claw down the bridge of your nose. For some reason, you giggled, grinning at her. You felt so… safe. Comforted. Like you were in the presence of two beings that could only love you.

The two women exchanged looks before looking back at you. “You’re not scared?” the Dragon asked. You shook your head as much as you could with the Vampire still holding your chin. “You’re not going to scream or ask us to leave you alone?”

“Why would I do that?” you blurted out.

They both looked at you with confusion, but you couldn’t help but let the words tumble out. You felt safe with them, and you knew that was silly because you hadn’t even really met them, but you couldn’t help it. They seemed confused but softened as you talked, and especially the way you started leaning into the Vampire’s touch.

“Maybe we should play with her, at least a little bit,” the Dragon nearly purred as she cupped your cheek.

“You read my mind as always, darling,” the Vampire grinned as you whined against both of their touches, trying to stand on your tiptoes to lean more into them.

The Vampire drew you closer to her so she could plant a cool, forceful kiss against your lips. You moaned softly against her lips as you reached for her, trying to wrap your arms around her neck to draw her in closer, but you’re stopped by the Dragon, who started to kiss and nip along your neck. You’re picked up and sat on the Dragon’s lap as she sat down, the Vampire leaning down to keep peppering you in kisses as the Dragon’s tongue flicked out to tease your neck.

You whined again, leaning back against the Dragon as she racked her claws over your your stomach, trailing down to the sweet, wet spot between your legs. Your mind was fuzzy as you felt the heat between your legs burn as she easily cut away the fabric there teasing your clit carefully with one of her claws. Part of you wanted to flinch away, but you had enough sense to stay still.

“What a pretty little one she is,” the Dragon cooed, her tail now between your legs, prodding open your dripping hole.

“Maybe could keep her,” the Vampire agreed.

She sat in front of you, helping it guide the Dragon’s tail into you. You grunted as it was pushed in, the thickness and texture of the scales unfamiliar but not unpleasant. Before you knew it, you were whining and limp in the Dragon’s arms, legs spread widely by her as she kept fucking you with her tail. The Vampire had her lips attached to your clit, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you, not caring as you sobbed from over stimulation. Not that you ever actually asked her to stop.

The Dragon pushed her tail deeply inside of you, mocking you in a warm voice for how wet you are, and how easily you take it. All you can do is babble out a thank you as the Vampire teased another orgasm out of your poor spent body. By the time they’re done with you, you’re sticky and exhausted, but you still cling to the Vampire as she helped you redress.

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not leaving you after that much fun,” she promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead as the Dragon took you both in her arms.

[rowretro]

𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘'𝖘 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗

✧warnings: yandere/toxic themes, stalker won, violence and Gory scenes. 

♡synopsis: Yang Jungwon, the campus crush, tall, handsome, and seemingly innocent to many. Hence no one knew how dangerous he truly was. However you knew, and you couldn’t tell a single soul. The man you assumed to be a sweet social butterfly with dimples like wells you’d find yourself falling through, was dangerously obsessed with you.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

She didn’t hear the commotion at first, as her earphones were on a high volume, but when she saw the crowd of students looking so traumatized, horrified, some even running to the restroom to throw up, Y/n knew something was up. She arrived just as the teachers did, police officers were yet to come and investigate the bloody mess left behind in the science class. Was there perhaps a new serial killer in their neighborhood?!

The victim had multiple slits on his neck, the blade resting in his cold, dead hand. His eyeballs were also stabbed into. She backed away, not wanting to see it anymore. That boy was none other than Xiaojun, one of the seniors who had been hitting on her for a while now. Y/n gripped onto her chest wondering what could’ve happened, a little sense of guilt left behind as she remembered her last words to was to tell him to fuck off. 

Jungwon smirked to himself when no one saw. He was the only one who knew. His father had connections to many gangs, he’s off the hook. He knew what happened. He’s the one who had a strong grip on Xiaojun’s wrists, making him stab his eyeballs for staring at what’s his. He’s the one who forced the dying man to draw bloody lines on his neck, making sure he was out of the picture. Y/n didn’t feel anything for Xiaojun anyway, he was annoying, none of the girls liked him as he was practically a playboy. So not many people really cared too much for him.

Eventually the police took over, taping the scene, securing any evidence and questioning the students. Jungwon was used to these by now Handling them like a pro, the police didn’t suspect him one bit. “Y/n? You ok?... you seem a little upset-” Jungwon asked as he gently caressed the girl’s back. “Oh it’s nothing, just… do you think he’d come back and haunt me???” she asked as Jungwon frowned “Just because you rejected him? I’m sure his ghost won’t even make it on earth- stop overthinking-” he said as the girl sighed.

That night Y/n walked to the cafe, despite it being pretty late at night. Jungwon wasn’t too far behind. His figure and shadow hidden in the darkness. She made his job a lot easier, the way you didn’t turn back once, ignoring the fact that you may be followed. Y/n entered the cafe Jungwon, watched from afar, making sure no one was there to steal her from him. To his luck, she was alone. Heck she even walked out alone, into that dark, alleyway that hand no cameras purely because it was a very easy shortcut to her home.

3 years of stalking his princess and he finally got the chance to take her home, driving his Koenigsegg in the middle, blocking her path. The girl frowned, then saw Jungwon. “I’m taking you home.” he simply said. As y/n just frowned. Why would he offer a ride to her? It’s not like they knew each other well, and she was closer to her home anyway. “No need, I’m only 3 minutes away from my house” she reassured as Jungwon laughed. “Oh sweetheart… I meant OUR home.” he said with a smirk, forcefully yanking her in before pushing a cloth drenched in a drowsy med to her face.

Everything seemed like a blur to her. Y/n woke up in a rather unfamiliar room. Her back met with the comfort of the plush, white silk sheets, and soft mattress, a blindingly beautiful chandelier in the center of the room. She couldn’t move. Her hands cuffed to the headboard. Her uniform was replaced with much more comfortable pajamas, the kind she could never afford. “You’re up darling?” a voice called. The girl stared in shock. It was indeed Jungwon. Yang Jungwon, the sweet, innocent, handsome man, now standing before her, dressed in his gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

“Jungwon?... why what? Why?!!!” she managed to ask, though it wasn’t exactly the question she wanted to asked. “Calm down, calm down. Yes yes, I was the one who murderred all those whores, Yes I’ve been keeping a close eye on you and protecting you from all harm, but it seems impossible to keep you safe out there… so I can keep you here, in my palance my princess.” He said with a smile as she just stared in utter shock. However she knew better than to mess with him. This is a new side to him, a dangerous side that no one would ever expect. Y/n had to play it safe with this man, she doesn’t want to end up being his next victim. 

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[tacosaysroar]

SEVEN

I’m finally painting the living room. I stalled out when my first round of potential colors was too dark, but I got an email yesterday about a 40% off sale at a local paint store and that was just the kick in the butt I needed. Painted two more swatches, picked the one I liked best, and bought two gallons of paint today. Et voila.

Adelaide had her first unchaperoned DATE last weekend: Kung Fu Panda 4. This new boy is into acting instead of sports like the previous boy. The one before that was a musician. Seems like Adelaide is sampling all the different sorts of boys. And why not.

I need to buy a new bathing suit before this summer, probably before Las Vegas next month, and ooooof. I don’t wanna. Ugh. The worst. I think I’m going to order a few different options online so I can be horrified in the comfort of my own home.

Speaking of, I went dress shopping today for that Vegas wedding, and dear god. We MUST all band together and fix dressing room lighting once and for all. I mean, do you want me to buy something or spend the rest of the day despising myself? It’s very unclear.

Last night, a VERY large spider crawled over Adelaide’s book as she was reading it and then ran across her bed and under her pillow. She . . . was not brave about it.

I made a very impulsive decision yesterday. A jewelry store here was having an inventory reduction sale (moving locations) and Saturday was an additional not-insignificant percentage off on diamond stud earrings. So I bought a nice pair in a very respectable cut and clarity to save for Adelaide’s college graduation or when she turns 21, etc. It feels a little silly considering she’s only 13, but it was a good deal (according to my hasty googling) and I figure by the time she’s done with college I may not have much money for an expensive gift. Now I just have to figure out where to keep them until then.

NFA is the absolute best. (And yet somehow keeps getting better?!) He’s ruining the curve for all other men. Absolutely destroying it. I get to see him in Vegas in three weeks, here and Asheville at the end of May, and then (as a post-birthday present) he’s taking me to St. Martin/Maarten in July and I. CANNOT. WAIT. There will be monkeys (MONKEYS!!!) and tropical birds and nude beaches and we’re staying in this beautiful little place way up in the rainforest with amazing views and have I mentioned how excited I am?!?!

[vodika-vibes]

hello hello!!! I saw your follower celebration and I thought I should join in! Do you do Rebels characters? If so, Ezra Bridger, Aquamarine and fall would be a great combo! (as specially if it includes Ezra’s trauma 😁). If you only do TBB/CW, then instead you could do Hunter, Amaythyst, and winter! Thanks for taking the time to do this (if you do it, that is!) love your writing sm! (btw is SFW only okay? Not a huge fan of smut reader inserts lol)

Comfort

Summary: Ezra has always been prone to nightmares, it’s a jedi thing he often claims. Luckily, he has you to help settle his nerves.

Pairing: Ezra Bridger x Reader

Word Count: 608

Prompt: Aquamarine - Healing Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I've never written for any Rebels characters before, but that's never stopped me before! So here you go! One Ezra story! This is roughly based around the time that he returns...probably. The timeline is vague. I hope you like it!

When you wake at 2 am, after a horrifying nightmare that leaves you trembling and your hands sweaty, your immediate instinct is to roll over to check on Ezra. 

And when he’s not there, not sprawled out next to you sleeping peacefully, terror clenches your heart. 

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, and where Ezra might be. It takes you a bit longer to stop your trembling long enough that you’re actually able to roll out of bed to find him. 

You pad through the halls, your feet leading you to the dimly lit training room.

Ezra’s training room.

The comforting hum of a lightsaber reaches your ears as you open the door, and you make sure to stay close to the wall as you enter the room. Not because you’re worried that Ezra will hurt you, but because you don’t want to disturb him.

You move away from the door, and then slide down the wall to sit on the floor and you watch him. 

You’re beginning to think that the original jedi must have been dancers, with the way that the lightsaber forms look. Seeing a group of jedi practicing in unison must have been a sight to behold.

Pity that you’re never going to see it.

“Did I wake you?” Ezra asks as he pauses his movements.

For a split second, you consider telling him the truth, but he’s got dark circles under his eyes and for him to be awake so early means that he had a nightmare too, so instead you smile at him, “I rolled over to steal your warmth and you were gone.”

There’s a soft laugh, “Sorry, beautiful. I needed to move.”

“It’s alright.” You watch him for a moment longer, his arms are shaking, “Have you been training for long?”

“A couple of hours.” He admits, “I had a nightmare.”

“A nightmare or a nightmare?” You ask.

“Just a regular nightmare, not a vision.”

“Hm.” You fall silent for a moment, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He glances at you, and for a moment, just a moment, there’s something dark and bleak on his face, before it fades away. “I dreamt about you.”

You blink at him, “You had a nightmare about me?”

“A nightmare involving you, rather. I watched you die. Over and over and over and-” He trails off, his grip tightening around his lightsaber.

You push yourself to your feet and walk over to him, reaching up to press your hand against his cheek for just a moment, before you take his free hand in both of yours and press it right over your heart.

“I’m right here. And I’m alive and well.”

He presses the palm of his hand over your heart, and you hear the steady hum of his lightsaber vanish as he turns it off and puts it away so he’s able to press his other hand against your cheek. 

“How is it that you’re always able to make everything bad seem so much smaller?” He asks as he leans in to bump his nose against yours.

“It’s my superpower.” You reply with an easy smile. 

“I love you,” Ezra murmurs, “The idea of losing you-”

You move your hand to press a light finger against his lips, “I love you too.” You move your finger and press a light kiss against his lips, “And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

And Ezra releases a soft sigh, before he lays his head on your shoulder, “Can we stay here for a bit? I need to keep you close.”

“Of course. We can stay as long as you need.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

naku weed | ayato kamisato.

✭ tags ; extremely dark content ahead, mother/son incest, noncon, penetration, oral(f!recieving), age gaps, 18+. pls do not read if u are squicked.

✭ wc ; 2.3k (horrified)

✭ a/n ; i needed to get this out of my system rip. i am choosing to blame @/saintshigaraki. AND CREDIT TO lamb for ayatocest worms in the first place

✭ synopsis ; naku weed. flower. naku. verb. translated to 'to cry'. ayato loves you more than any man ever could.

You never remarried when their father died.

Your marriage within the Kamisato clan had been of convivence. It's an old story. You were young and beautiful and Mr. Kamisato was kind and diligent. Of all the men who tried to court you, he had been the only one polite enough to ask you questions about what you wanted.

The answer wasn't much. Your only dream of course was to get out of that stuffy place you'd been born into. To feel the sun in your face and the wind in your hair. What desires did you have but peace?

Young and impatient - you married within the year. Your marriage to your husband was awkward and clumsy. But you loved each other. Despite all of his responsibilities, you spent more time together than you thought you were worth. He was kind and caring. You were impassive and easily embarrassed.

You were expected to provide an heir. Ayato felt like a blessing from the archons in that way. His father was always strict with him while he was raised.

Despite your grievances with showing your husband affection, showing Ayato that sort of love didn't trouble you. He was a bright boy. Cunning and clever but thoughtful and strong. A perfect heir who depended on you for warmth and comfort and sympathy.

(Looking back, perhaps it was your fault. You had always felt that something in Ayato was...off. He was a good, kind boy - mostly. Maybe denial was only a given. What mother could turn her back on her son?)

Ayato was a good child. He rarely got into physical altercations. Behaved perfectly. Was well-educated and charming and polite. Perhaps the only thing was the way he was fond of you. Even up to his teenage years where that kind of motherly affection was supposed to be embarassing - Ayato had accepted graciously. Hugs and kisses.

(When he was at the age to attend galas overseas, Ayato would often offer you a hand to dance. His usual desires for affection and touch didn't go unnoticed, nor did the way his hand rested too low on your back.)

When Ayaka was born, no longer did he hold the pretense of being a young boy. His love for his younger sister is something you could never admonish him for even now. He adored her so wholly and always made time for her to play.

Ayaka brought more responsibility to you as a mother, but you didn't mind. Such a brilliant little girl she was, eager to learn etiquette and how to brush her hair up into pretty styles like you did.

When Ayato was 18, his father passed in the blink of an eye. A storm had breached their boat. No survivors. It left you alone with two children, a widow amongst it all. After the initial devastation, the loss, the heartache—you were left only with Ayato.

You had never intended for the boy to take on so much responsibility. He was still young, after all. You should be strong. But truthfully, you only had their father. You cut-ties with your family long ago. In your devastation, Ayato comforted you. Told you he'd take care of fathers role in due time and that he'd take care of the family.

("Please rest easy, Mother." He hums, voice courageous and melancholy "I always intended to follow this path.")

The first time you found Ayato's desires out had been only a year later. He was 19 at the time, half your age. He'd requested you to his chambers for comfort. At the start, he was stone cold sober. A bottle of sake sat on yumemiru wood table, Ayato deep in thought by the fire place.

("Come drink with me, mother."

"You're not old enough to drink." You tsk. Ayato gives you a coy smile.

"If I'm old enough to become the commissioner, surely this much is fine."

You're unable to counter his point. He looks pouty. You sigh.

"Just a bit then.")

For the first time in your life, your son opened up to you completely. Though it wasn't the emotional sort of whining. Still ultimately reserved. He'd told you quite a bit. And you were happy that he could depend on you.

When the conversation fell on you, and your life - and your marriage to his father, you had no problem in telling him. Loosened up by the warmth of liquor.

("Your father was a good man," You say, wistful. Ayato's face darkens, if only a little. It's barely noticeable.

"I envy him." He says back. You frown.

"You did? What for?"

Ayato looks up at you.

"He had what I wanted most.")

You had asked about it then. Though deep down you were afraid of the answer, you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to know. It was then that Ayato had cut in. He asked if you were lonely since his father passed.

A fear struck into your heart then. You confessed only a little. How could you be lonely when they ere around, you had said. A half-answer Ayato sees right through.

("You know that's not what I mean," Ayato says, voice so low you hardly catch it "Without a husband, Mother. Has it been lonely?"

Your breath hitches.)

The first time Ayato forces himself on you, it's like this. Your only son. Your clan heir. Your clever, cunning, brilliant boy. You could never turn your back him. Even so, the deliberate way in which he embraces you makes you stumble. How he approaches you that way is too well-practiced and too wanting. You are too afraid to ask when it started.

Ayato tells you, anyways.

("I've coveted you my whole life," Ayato mumbles. You push him away. You try too - but you've forgotten he is no longer a boy. He is a man like this and like many men - he is stronger than you.

You are pinned underneath him in earnest, his tongue licking a stripe up your neck - feather light kisses where your jaw meets your neck.

"Since I was born. Even when I lost my innocence to that girl," He confesses, though you don't think it's meant to be a secret "I was picturing you the whole time."

"Ayato," You whisper. Softly, hoarsely "Please stop this."

"I don't want too," He tells you so blatantly it startles you. He tips your head back, thumb on your chin. The way he kisses you is intimate and devoted and well-practiced. Disgust washes through at how good it feels "I've only every wanted this."

You believe him. It's horrible how much you believe him. Ayato touches you like a man who desires you. Your own son, flesh and blood, has forced your legs apart. It's been a long time since anyone touched you at all. The growing wetness and dull ache of desire in your body fills you with a sense of dread that almost makes you sick.

But, Ayato touches you like a man who loves you. You cannot deny this much no matter how much you'd like too. His tongue trails down your neck from your pulse to the valley of your breasts - his fingers grasping the soft swell of flesh with admiration. A strike of lightning passes you, like the Electro Archon herself permits this.

"I've loved these since I was young," Ayato whispers in some sense of self satisfaction. "Mother, you're truly more beautiful than any one woman I've ever laid eyes on.")

That night, Ayato doesn't do much more than rut himself against you to cum and fall asleep next to you. He kisses your temple and tells you he will move through this gently - so you don't have to worry too much. You want to be assured by his words. But the only thing you hear from it is the promise of next time.

When you say this much, that this cannot happen again, Ayato gives you a look of amusement. Kisses your knuckles and whispers against your skin that no man other than him will ever enter your chambers. He does this because he loves you, more than anyone.

("I resent father for touching you, despite knowing that is why you've given birth to me. I do not know if I was blessed or cursed to be your son."

His expression betrays his words. If his face is anything at all to go by, Ayato does not regret being born your son even a little.)

As time passes, his touching of you grows more persistent. Though, he's never violent nor threatening, he is possessive and shameless. He only reserves himself in front of Ayaka.

But the house maids and the butlers and Thoma all seem to know of Ayato's desires towards you. Some pity you, some seem disgusted. Most seem pleased that the commissioner is in a good mood when you are around and do not bother asking questions.

The first time Ayato takes you is on his 20th birthday. He requested you to his room. He even bought you nightwear to put on for him. By then, you're unable to refuse him. He'll take it out on his sub-ordinates if you do.

You wore it for him, bashful and shameful. He is still your son and he requests little from you other than this. In some twisted way, it often feels like this is all you can do. He's pristine and diligent and kind. In that way he's so much like his father.

("It suits you," He says, like he was predicting it. You swallow a sob as a wave of awareness graces you "Wedding lingerie, custom order. You're beautiful." )

That night he takes his time like he's always wanted you. You lay there so helpless to him. He has smooth hands and moles in all the places you remember. He takes to touching you delicately - too delicately for a woman your age.

He treats you like you are a young girl, a newly-wed couple and the feeling that overwhelms you is not one you can put a name to. He is not unkind. He pulls you apart with frustrating patience, relishing each and every inch of you. You're not sure where he learned this.

The comparison haunts you but even his father did not treat you like that. Maybe that is a given. Ayato is your son after all. A man could not compare to a sons love for his mother. Even if the thought makes your stomach churn, the way he treated you is not something to take lightly.

You felt pleasure from him. He licked and bit and nipped at all parts of you. Kissed down your navel with a thumb brushing over your stretchmarks (each part of you is his) and dug into the plush of your thighs. A womans body, he mumbled, taken by you.

He even licked you. It'd been a first for you. He was delighted to learn this. He tongued at your clit and sucked at you so diligently. He's always made you cum with his fingers and his hands before then. But that night was different, a special and cherished occasion for him.

And despite it all, you are in no place to deny him of joy. He has the world on his shoulders. When Ayato fucked you like two lovers, not mother and son - you only thought to brace yourself.

("Easy," He whispers. His voice is on the precipice of broken. You can feel him entering you, an awful intrusion. A reunion of it's own sort. "That's it. Good girl."

To be called girl, haunts you. But you can feel him. His cock. Hard velvet over steel and burning. He's thick and long, much bigger than anything you've ever taken before. Ayato holds onto your hips, fingers digging carefully into you. Your legs rest on his shoulders, knees pressed into yourself as Ayato folds you in half.

You whimper. It's been two years since you've experienced this, maybe more. When you look up at him, he's the splitting image of his father. He's grown up to be so handsome, it troubles you. He could have anyone if he chose it.

Why you? You want to ask, so much it's impossible to swallow. Ayato must sense your apprehension. Even as his cock penetrates you so deeply and so slowly - a shallow thrust like he's digging your insides out - you cannot bear it. You whimper and Ayato kisses you tenderly. Strong hands go to fiddle with your clit as a wave of desire clings to your ribs. Sticky, sensual arousal makes home in your heart. It feels good.

"Mother," He whispers, so lovingly you cannot turn away "This is the most blessed night of my life.")

It feels like so long ago now. Ten years is but a blip in time, and Ayato is yet to grow out of this. He still seeks you almost nightly. Your little girl is all grown up and clueless - only stopping to comment about how close you two are.

Your excuse is always that you were young when you had him, to which Ayaka doesn't question. By all means and all measures, Ayato has not let go of you. In the ten years that have passed, he has only gotten worse.

He's thirty, now. And you're well-past your prime, yet he cannot stop himself from leering at you. The guilt and shame still live inside of you, but lately you are uncertain there is a point.

You sit with your two children having tear in the mid-day. Sunlight pours through the cracks of the window. Ayaka rests her palm on her cheek.

"Nii-san," Ayaka asks, a curiosity in her voice "Won't you ever get married?"

You still. Ayato glances at you, then laughs.

"I don't have any plans to. Who will take care of our mother?"

You don't say a word. Ayaka hums.

"You've never been interested in anyone?"

Ayato thinks on it.

"Mm. A woman much older than me, once. A widow."

"Really?" Ayaka exclaims. He pauses to glance at you, then laughs over his tea.

"Really."

[icycoldninja]

Terror (Raiden x Reader angst)

Tw: Death, blood, violence, and dark themes. If you are not comfortable with these themes, DNI!

-------------------------------------------------------------‐----------------

Heart pounding, you dashed into an alleyway, breath shaky and mind swirling with fear. Just 2 hours ago, you and Raiden had been on a mission, slicing open cyborgs with ease--until someone shot Raiden in the shoulder. It was superficial damage in terms of how easily it could be healed, but it hurt. That was the problem. In seconds, Jack the Ripper had emerged and immediately started massacring everyone in the vicinity, and once he was done with them, he turned his attention to you.

Red eye glowing with an insatiable lust for blood, he stalked towards you, his unhinged laughter echoing in your ears and filling your mind with clouds of terror.

You loved Raiden and would have never run from him, but this thing was not Raiden, at least, not anymore. Before you could even think, your body acted on impulse. You took off, zipping like a lightning bolt through the streets, too afraid to even look back. Behind you, you could hear the loud thumping of metal hitting the streets as Jack the Ripper chased after you, laughing like a maniac.

"Doll, where ya going? Don't you wanna stay and play?" You instantly became aware of something whirring behind you, turned, and saw the fully charged HF blade about to be thrown at you by powerful cyborg arms. You ducked, dropping to the ground and evading the sword, but losing your balance in the process.

That single moment of weakness was all Jack needed to catch up and pin you to the ground, his strong metal legs caging you to the pavement, preventing any movement from the shoulders down. Jack let out a long, horrifying laugh before taking your face firmly in his clawed hands with none of the gentleness Raiden usually exercised.

"God, you're beautiful. So much prettier when you're not running away." More insane laughter. He bent down and licked a long stripe up your cheek, still gripping your jaw firmly while his sharp claws dug into your flesh like little needles, making rivulets of blood trickle down your face and pool into his hand, which only served to delight him further.

"So beautiful..." He roughly tugged you forwards, red eye searching yours with a type of hunger you were unable to identify. You struggled, trying to escape form his impossibly firm grip, but it was impossible.

"Let go of me!" You yelled, even though you knew it was hopeless. Raiden chuckled, yanking you forwards and smashing his metal lips against yours. The kiss was cold and devoid of the warmth and love you were used to. Whimpering softly, you managed to pull away with some difficulty.

"What's wrong, doll?" He sneered, insanity in his eyes. "Don't you love it when I kiss you? Don't you love me?" You trembled, body quivering from head to toe as you tried to summon up the courage to answer.

"I love Raiden," You finally admitted. "Not you."

Raiden growled in response, looking angrier and more disappointed than you'd ever seen him.

"So that's how it is, eh? No one cares about Jack--everybody's after Raiden!" An expression of pure anger on his face, the psychopath got to his feet, raised the HF blade, and rammed it right into his target: your heart.

A stabbing pain shot through your chest, and before you could even register what was happening, the world suddenly went fuzzy and faded to black, with the last thing you ever heard being Jack's maniacal laughter, echoing in your ears like a nightmarish song.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

A god killing black kitty, seem to be perfect fit for a cat speaking as a cat mom myself

How would human fighters be when they learn to hat they love cats the most when they went on any worlds for her trip, their real form is too mind breaking even gods can't comprehend of what they are

They seem chill with the four sage due to them to be more interesting then seeing worlds die and replace times over to the point that they act liked a cat around them sometimes

-At first, you were just a void, a being made of darkness and energy, holding a conscience of your very own.

-Your true form, if ever seen by another with a conscience, your form was said to be so horrifying they immediately went mad and their very being imploded from the inside.

-So if you visited other worlds, you always took on an unassuming form of something native to the land, so you could travel and inspect these worlds without risking any unnecessary lives.

-When you transformed, your appearance was always pitch black, much like a void, with glowing orange eyes

-When you found the Milky Way Galaxy, the third planet from the sun was the only one that held life, so you took on the form of one of the creatures on Earth, a cat.

-Humans came to adore what you looked like, calling you a Persian, a breed of cat, and you found their affections and attention pleasant, unlike many of the other worlds you have visited.

-You were able to sense those with much more power, gods, being of great power themselves, but none could hold a candle to your immense power.

-Your fight with Eris had been a quick one, you had been quite disappointed as all of the gods had bragged, before they knew who you truly were, on how powerful they were and how none could stand against them.

-You enjoyed this section of this world, Valhalla, more than you did down on Earth, finding it beautiful and full of wise and interesting people.

-Throughout your long life, you had seen cultures grow and fade, empires rise and fall, but this world, even though these things have also happened, humanity and the gods continued to thrive, learning from the past and taking civilization to new heights each and every day.

-Once your power was known through Valhalla, there were many who were scared of you, but some didn’t seem bothered in the least.

-Goll had thought you were a normal kitty, picking you up and taking you to a quiet room where she provided you with a pillow, so she could just stroke you, finding you soft.

-Sasaki Kojiro was very relaxing to be around, you found his lap most comfortable, curling up on it, he wasn’t bothered, thinking that you were just a normal cat and provided you with something called ‘salmon nigiri’. It was delicious.

-Ares had picked you up, holding you up under your front legs, letting the rest of you dangle down, “What’s a cat doing here?”

-You open your mouth and without moving again, your voice manifested, surrounded the two of you, “What are any of us doing here?” he froze in shock, turning to stone and you hopped down to continue your journey.

-You found solstice with a group of men called the Four Sages, Confucius, Socrates, Jesus, and Buddha, who all seemed to vibe with you.

-They knew of your immense power, but you seemed to be content as a cat, curling up on Buddha’s lap, basking in the warm sunshine of his garden.

-Many of the other gods were still afraid of you, of your power, but you just trotted around, finding those you liked, like Kojiro, to nap with or get snacks from, and you found amusement freaking others out, like Ares.

-He had found you and demanded you speak to Zeus who knew it was you, but he couldn’t help but laugh when you just meowed, like you were a normal cat.

-Once Zeus left, you opened your maw again, “They will never believe you.”

-You were able to keep this prank going on Ares for almost two full weeks and he pouted once you were outed, saying that you were cruel, but you curled up on his lap, apologizing but did speak once more, “When you react with such shock, it is quite funny.”

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites: Unleashed Scene: You’re Jsut Trying Too Hard

As Korvo and Terry panics while pacing around, Yumyulack and Jesse continue looking down at the floor horrified while Phoebe comes downstairs after putting the Pupa down for a nap.

Phoebe: Okay, the Pupa is now asleep. We just need to come up with a plan to get you guys out of hou- notices the kids’ horrified faces Yumyulack? Jesse? Are you okay?

Yumyulack: This is all our faults.

Yumyulack: We should’ve known Barnaby was a crazy person. We trusted him and he fucked us like fools. Now, he’s took everything that is meant to help our friends, including the scanner, the files, everything! starts to hulk out as his horns appear on his head and his starts to grow bigger and muscular

Jesse: Ugh! I can’t believe we acted like fucking fools! Those headphone guys and the Stacies were right! We are total fuck ups! starts hulking out as she starts growing bigger and muscular and turning black

Korvo and Terry gasp as they realized how overwhelmed their children are and runs up to calm them down.

Phoebe: Whoa whoa whoa kids calm down!

Yumyulack: eyes starts growing lavender CALM DOWN?! CALM DOWN?! WHY SHOULD WE STAY CALM?!

Jesse: eyes starts glowing black and dark pink WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE UPSET!

Korvo and Terry: leaps towards and hugs their kids in a huge embrace Whoa whoa whoa! Hey! Hey now! Yumyulack… Jesse… soothing shushing sounds

The effects wear off on Yumyulack and Jesse as they shrink down to their normal sizes and starts weeping as Korvo and Terry gasp sadly and continue soothing them.

Yumyulack: tearfully We’re so scared guys.

Jesse: weeping What’s gonna happen to us guys? Barnaby was right. We’re just little kids. We can’t even do anything right.

Phoebe: What?! Who these bitches think they are- Korvo puts his hand on Phoebe as she grows surprised by the look on Korvo’s face

Korvo: to Phoebe Don’t worry, we’ll talk to them. turns to Terry; whispering You talk to Yumyulack, I’ll talk to Jesse.

Terry: Okay.

In separate directions, Terry takes Yumyulack outside while Korvo takes Jesse to her and Yumyulack’s bedroom as Yumyulack sits down on the picnic table and Jesse sat on her chair and looks at the mirror.

Terry: Buddy, what’s wrong? Talk to me.

Korvo: Jesse darling, is everything okay?

Yumyulack: tearfully; sniffles No Terry, everything is not okay. I can’t do anything right. All I do is fail and get beat up by other kids. I can’t even get Mark to notice me.

Terry: puts his hands on Yumyulack’s shoulders Hey come on, everything’s gonna be okay.

Jesse: tearfully No, it’s not okay. I wished I never found that glowing lipstick. chokes a sob Now it turned me into an ugly monster. sobs

Korvo: But why did you do that?

Jesse: sniffles as tears fall hard I just… wanted to be beautiful Korvo… just like the Stacies… and all the other beautiful women in the world…

Yumyulack: voice breaking I just wanted people to stop walking over me Terry… I wanted to be something more…

In each separate parts, Korvo and Terry put comforting on hands on their children’s shoulders as they deeply understand how their Replicants feel.

Terry: I know honey, but that is not true.

Korvo: You are the most beautiful sweetest girl in the world. You don’t need makeup to prove that.

Terry: You are so smart, so brave, yet stubborn. But, that doesn’t mean you should exhaust yourself from that. You are a very brave little alien who can do anything.

Korvo: To me, you are an amazing beautiful lady who is so kind and thoughtful and very caring towards other people.

Terry: Your father and I will always support you no matter what…

Korvo: And you have people who care about you too, and you are never alone…

Korvo and Terry: But most of all…

Terry: You don’t have to try so hard

Yumyulack sobs into Terry’s chest as Terry hugs his step-son and soothes him.

Korvo: puts his hand on Jesse’s shoulders You shine brighter than all of them.

Korvo puts his arms around Jesse for comfort as Jesse tearfully smiles and hugs Korvo by his arms. Phoebe smiles as she sees her friends comforting their children.

Two hours later, Yumyulack and Jesse fall asleep on the couch while Phoebe puts two blankets on them as she smiles. Korvo and Terry then approach each other as the two husbands look at each other lovingly.

Korvo: How come you never tell me how well you do with our kids?

Terry: Let’s just say, I got advice from a grumpy blue-ass alien who became my sweet hubby.

Korvo: Oh Terry. But don’t you worry, we’re gonna get out of here. Once and for all. It’s a promise I can never break with you.

Terry: And that’s something I can’t break with you either.

The two alien husbands French-kiss as they embrace each other lovingly.

Music for this Scene:

Phoebe MacCarthy belongs to @themagicwolf6677

[candycandy00]

Ahem, can I request a Dabi x innocent nun fanfic?💦 I mean never saw this concept before so maybe get your interest? Love your stories 🫶

Thank you for the kind comments! Please keep in mind I know next to nothing about nuns or the Catholic religion in general. I was raised a Baptist lol.

Smut. 18+. I’m not even sure what else to warn about.

You’re halfway through your evening prayers, kneeling in front of the altar with your rosary clasped in your hands, when you hear the doors of the church open and shut. Without even looking, you know who it is, and you double up on your prayers. 

For weeks now, the mysterious black-haired stranger has been coming in when the church is mostly empty, late at night, and taking a seat in the very back pew. He wears dark clothing and a black medical mask, and he seems to be trying to keep a low profile. 

Something about him scares you. Maybe it’s the haunted look in his beautiful eyes, the air of danger that seems to float around him like a cloud, or the way he looks at you as if you’re a tiny mouse under the gaze of a hawk. Or maybe, you’re afraid of him because he stirs feelings in you that are unbecoming of a nun. 

Once, you tried approaching him. You welcomed him to the church and asked if there was anything you could help him with. He’d looked up at you, and your breath had caught in your throat. Those eyes were so much more beautiful up close. Then he’d reached up and pulled the mask down, revealing horrific scars covering the bottom half of his face, and said, “No thanks, sister. I can’t be saved.” 

When you recoiled in shock, he grinned, and you thought you’d seen the devil himself. You hurried away, retreating into a back room. 

For the next few days, you avoided going into the church alone in the evenings. The man had terrified you, but he had also intrigued you. Gradually, you’d worked up the nerve to start going back into the church for your evening prayers. And when you saw him again, you smiled and gave him a nod, though you kept your distance. 

He’d seemed surprised to see you alone in the church again, but he’d pulled the mask down again and returned the smile. Since then, he’s all you can think about. 

You’ve never known the touch of a man. You’re a nun after all. But lately you’ve even been dreaming about the stranger. The dreams are shameful, and you wake up with damp panties, the proof of your sinful thoughts. 

You haven’t told anyone about him, partly out of shame and partly out a fear that someone else will approach him and he’ll stop coming in. You still can’t figure out why he comes at all. He doesn’t seem interested in religion at all. 

Today, you stand up from your kneeling position on the carpeted floor and turn around to look at him. You smile your usual smile and give a small wave, then wait for him to smile back. 

He doesn’t. Instead he just stares, a look in his eyes you haven’t seen before. Then, he raises one hand and curls a finger, motioning for you to come to him. 

You hesitate, surprised by the sudden invitation. This is the first time he’s initiated any sort of contact. You glance around the church to make sure no one else is around, then make you way toward the back. 

The stranger is sitting casually in the pew, his arms draped across the back of the pew on either side of him and his legs comfortably wide apart. You can’t help thinking that you could easily slip between his thighs and sit on his lap. You shake your head. You shouldn’t be thinking of things like that! 

He reaches to his mask and pulls it off, revealing that horrifying yet beautiful face. He watches your reaction, and when you don’t recoil like last time, he finally smiles. “Not scared of my face this time?” 

“I wasn’t scared last time,” you say, “I was just surprised.” 

He tilts his head to one side. “You shouldn’t lie, sister. Can’t you nuns get in trouble for that?”

“We nuns are human. We are prone to sin, just like anyone else,” you tell him. 

“Really?” he asks, his eyes moving up and down your body in an obvious way. “And what other sins have you been prone to lately?”

You turn away from him by reflex, as if he can see through your clothes to the growing wetness between your legs. You hear him laugh behind you, so you look back at him. He pats the pew beside him and says, “Why don’t you sit, sister?”

Your heart is pounding rapidly. One part of you wants to run away and hide until this man is gone. The other part wants him to ravage you right here in the church. Where are these sinful thoughts coming from?

After several seconds of hesitation, you finally sit down in the pew beside him. He moves his arms down from the back of the pew and scoots closer to you, so close that you can feel warmth from his body. You fidget, clutching your rosary as if it will give you the strength to resist him. But you already know it’s no use. 

He reaches over with one hand and slides up the bottom of your black robe, pulling it up to your waist, revealing your curvy thighs covered in black silk thigh high stockings. Above them, a pair of black lace panties. You’d never worn things like that until a few weeks ago, when you had the sudden urge to feel sexy and bought these on a whim. They were your secret indulgence, and your secret shame. 

Now, this stranger was staring at them, his eyebrows raised as if surprised. “Wow, do nuns usually wear stuff like this?”

You’re so embarrassed that you can’t speak. So you shake your head “no” while looking at the floor. Then you feel his warm hand on your thigh, and you stiffen, letting your eyes fall on that scarred hand, rubbing upwards, slipping between your legs, and finally groping your most private spot through the lace. 

You grab his wrist and try to push it away, your face becoming red and flushed as you squeak out a weak cry of “Stop!”

He doesn’t budge, his hand still massaging you. “Do you really want me to stop, sister? Because your panties are awfully wet.”

You freeze in place, then slowly let go of his wrist. “I… I don’t know what I want,” you say. 

“I think I do,” he says in a low voice, then he slides his hand inside your panties, pushing one finger into your folds to stroke your clit. 

The shock of the pleasure makes you jolt and cry out, your legs automatically opening to give his hand more access. You’ve never purposely touched your clit before, being so determined to avoid sinful thoughts. You had no idea how sensitive it was. And now this man was rubbing it, over and over without pausing, smearing your wetness all over it in the process. 

You gasp and turn your body toward him, gripping his jacket in your hands, shivering as the pleasure takes you. Then, a great burst of pleasure explodes within you, and you bury your face in his chest to stifle a moan.  

As you pant and come back to your senses, he pulls his hand away and grins at you. “Was that your first orgasm?”

You nod weakly, still clutching him. Suddenly, he pushes you onto your back, and jerks your robe up and over your head, using it to restrain your arms. You’re not wearing a bra, you rarely do, so your full breasts are bare before him. He uses one hand to hold your arms above your head, though you’re not struggling at all, and the other to grope your breast. 

“You are one sexy nun,” he says, then releases his grip on you so that he can sit up and open his pants. You don’t move. You don’t want to move. You have no desire to stop this now. All you want is for him to take you right now, to make you his. 

You glance down at his erect cock just as he moves on top of you, then you feel him shove it inside you. It hurts. It’s too big. You’re tearing. But you still want this. You still want him. He slowly pulls out, then thrusts back in, this time going deeper. After the third thrust, you feel like your body is getting used to him, and pain gives way to more pleasure. 

His hands are holding onto your hips, using them as leverage to keep thrusting deeper and deeper. You arch your back, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his cock inside you. You look up at his face, and he’s watching your breasts bounce as he pumps in and out. Then he’s groping them again, making an animalistic growling sound, leaning down to take one nipple in his hot mouth, his tongue driving you crazy. 

Your first orgasm was quickly followed by your second, and you moaned loudly as your eyes slid closed. Then you felt it, hot liquid shooting into you as the stranger pushed as deeply inside you as possible. 

Afterward, he slowly pulled out and stared down at your gasping, shuddering form.  Then he said, “Have you ever been kissed?”

You blink up at him in surprise. What a strange time to ask that. You shake your head. “No, I haven’t,” you say. 

He laughs. “So you lost your virginity before you had your first kiss? What a slutty little nun!” 

But before you can say anything in response, he leans forward and kisses you on the lips. It’s a strangely sweet and gentle kiss, and when he pulls away, he’s grinning. 

He stands up and buttons his pants. “I’ll be back, sister. Be ready for me.”

“Wait!” you call as he walks toward the door. “Can you tell me your name?”

He looks at you for a moment, as if thinking about something. Then he says, “It’s Touya.” And with that, he walks out of the church, leaving you alone. 

[tales-from-a-little-witch]

A little kitten saved my life

Tw: men being horrifying in the dark

This happened not too long ago on a late cold night that I was craving something sweet, was around 1:40 or 1:50 am, I grabbed my bag and decided to walk down the gas station.

Let me paint you a picture of the way to the gas station. It’s a pitch-black road that goes on for at least five minutes, and the only light you’ll see is the light from the gas station. There are no streetlights down this road.

I got down to the gas station, and everything was normal. But leaving the gas station is when I got a bad gut feeling – that sort of feeling that turns your stomach and gives you goosebumps.

I reached into my bag for the knife that I always kept inside of it.

Now, admittedly, this is where I messed up. I didn’t check my bag for my knife, and my knife wasn’t in my bag...

Instantly, I was on edge. There I was, without a weapon, and with this terrible, gut-wrenching feeling.

I figured I'd walk home quickly, and as I began walking, I heard the most gentle mewing from behind me. I turned around and saw a beautiful little tricolor tabby.

She was tiny, and her little legs were rushing to catch up to me as she mewed and meowed the whole way to me. Then, she stopped at my feet. I’m thankful that she caught my attention because as I was looking at her, I spotted a movement in the darkness behind her.

To my horror, it was a man...

I tried not to freak out. I tried to rationalize it, thinking,

"He must have just been walking back from the gas station, just like I was."

There was no need for me to worry about it. I've walked that road plenty of times with others, and this was no different.....Or so I tried to convince myself....

The sweet little cat looked back at the man and then back at me and suddenly darted off, and something inside of me told me that I needed to follow her. Intuition told me that I needed to run, and fast.

The little cat kept looking back at me as she ran, her eyes checking to see if I was still there. It was as if she was making sure that I was still running alongside her. We ran and ran through that dark and empty road.

She darted straight towards my apartment and stopped under the one light that was illuminating the darkness.

Relief flooded through me, and my heart pounded furiously in my chest, my breaths coming out heavy and ragged. But I took comfort in the fact that the man was still a considerable distance behind me.

I stood there with her in the light for only a moment before gently scooping her up into my arms, stroking her head and thanking her. After all, I’d always been taught to be polite to cats.

I was planning on taking her inside with me......

That’s when it happened.

She looked off into the darkness and began hissing and yowling, struggling desperately to break free from my arms. She positioned herself in front of me, facing the pitch-black darkness. And that stomach-churning feeling of dread returned…

Her fur stood on end, and her yowling became so loud that she was practically spitting. My eyes slowly followed hers to the source of her distress. There, standing in the darkness right outside my apartment line, was the man. He was staring at me, that awful smile curving his lips.

My heart dropped straight into my stomach, and I felt nauseous in an instant. I was absolutely dumbfounded; he was supposed to be a good distance behind us. We had RUN. We had sprinted, for god's sake. How in the world had he made it here so swiftly?

I hadn't even heard him, my mind swirling with a thousand racing thoughts, and my body beginning to tremble. I tried to rationalize it, grasping at any logical explanation.

He must have run after us, I thought. This man had pursued me all the way here while I fled with the kitten.

I spun on my heel so swiftly that the Devil himself would have grown dizzy. In a heartbeat, I dashed into my apartment, only pausing for a brief moment to glance back at the little kitty. She stood her ground, hissing fiercely like a little sentinel determined to guard me or buy me some time.

Once the screen door slammed shut, the little kitty dashed away, seamlessly vaulting over the neighbor's fence and into their backyard. As she disappeared, I watched the man lingering in the shadows, his gaze locked on me. I watched him from behind the safety of my curtains, my eyes glued to the spot where he had been standing. Gradually, as time ticked on, he finally turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows. Of course I reported it but that did a shit of a lot good.

He knew where I lived now, knew exactly the apartment in which I resided. That realization sent tremors of terror coursing through me, yet the even more chilling thought that sent ice-cold dread into my heart, was what he might have done to me on that darkened road if it wasn't for the brave little tabby.

I guess all that cat karma did me some good, I don’t think that little kitten showed up by coincidence.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird Chapter 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Pairing: Elvis x female OC (Valerie Pedretti)

Word count: 2,500

Warnings: None!

Summary: Valerie Pedretti is a quiet, unassuming girl of 22 with little money but a lot of heart who just so happens to turn into a force of nature when she sings. A chance encounter with Elvis in an elevator at the International Hotel changes her life forever, for good and bad.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

Valerie Pedretti was not at all prepared to meet Elvis Presley. 

If you had told her she would soon come face to face with the biggest star on the planet, she would have probably laughed in your face. Then, if she realized you were actually serious, she would have at least wanted to look nice. Without question, she’d have spent hours in the front of her tiny, chipped robin’s egg blue vanity primping and preening and making sure her nails were a beautiful crimson red.

Then, she’d have slipped into a knit wrap dress to accentuate her waist or something flirty like that and made sure her ink black locks were curled into place. Her face would be painted to meticulous perfection, having obsessed over every flick of eyeliner, pump of mascara, and swipe of strawberry pink gloss. 

In that alternate reality, Valerie Pedretti would've met Elvis looking every bit the star that he was. But life, with its unpredictable turns, had other plans.

Instead, she found herself dressed for comfort in her oldest and rattiest pair of jeans, her hair a tangled mess on top of her head, and she’d been schlepping, with great difficulty, what seemed like the two largest suitcases known to man. She thought her face must have been horrifying, what with the dark circles under her eyes and the sleep-smudged mascara running halfway down her cheeks. Val, as her friends lovingly called her, wanted nothing more than to dart out of the airport, peel off her sweat-slicked clothing, plop into her hotel bed, and start fresh tomorrow. 

It had been a horrendously long day. A simple six-hour flight to Vegas turned into a 19-hour odyssey thanks to inclement weather. On the cab ride to the hotel, she didn’t even care to look at the lights illuminating the strip. Normally, her eyes would have been peeled, taking in all the sights and sounds of Sin City as they flashed by the window and melded into one big neon strobe. Instead, she lay her exhausted head down against the inside of the doorframe and drifted off to sleep. Before she knew it, she was shaken awoke by the gruff cabby, drool pooling at the side of her mouth. So attractive.

“International Hotel,” he grunted, his voice an ice bath to her face. As if on autopilot, Valerie stuffed a few crinkled bills into his hands and spilled out onto the hotel's paved entryway in a crumpled, tired heap. The fluorescent bulbs were absolutely blinding, and she felt the rumblings of a searing headache. She fingered inside her purse, hoping to find her sunglasses, and almost broke into tears of joy when she realized she'd remembered to bring them with her. The sweet promise of sleep propelled her legs forward as she pushed the doors open to another world. An arctic blast of air conditioning greeted her. It sent a chill across her sweat-soaked back, making her already uncomfortable clothes feel like shards against her body. 

It was 11 pm, but you'd never know it by the comings and goings in the cavernous, opulent lobby. Smartly dressed men walked arm in arm with elegant women decked out in sequined gowns and impressive bouffant hairdos. It seemed as if everyone was either puffing on cigars or sipping on zippy little cocktails and she could scarcely see more than 10 feet in front of her for all the smoke. Impeccably uniformed bellmen milled about while friendly, peppy reservation agents stood at the ready behind a gigantic marble check-in desk. 

As she moved closer into the foyer and her eyes adjusted to the light that even her sunglasses couldn’t dim, she realized there were Elvis banners, pennants, and signs everywhere. Shit, was it his opening weekend? If only she could afford a ticket! The people buzzing around must have been fans, mingling in every corner of the lobby and all over the first floor of the hotel. Their elegant clothing belied an excited boisterousness, and the energy in the room was absolutely electric. Standing there holding her meager belongings and looking decidedly out of place in her t-shirt and Robert Clergerie knockoffs, she felt as if she’d been plucked from Long Island and dumped on Mars. Scanning the crowd of revelers in their finery, her clothes had never felt so threadbare. 

Even though music was her life, Valerie didn’t have the money to spend on concerts, nor was she the type of person to ask for charity to do so. Her gentle presence caused some to underestimate her and, moving through life with a calm and quiet grace, she often blended into the background. But her soft-spoken voice belied a deep steadiness within (not to mention a wicked sense of humor), and the kind of resolve one attains only from truly having struggled. With her doll-like features and tendency to speak only when she deemed it absolutely necessary, it was easy to mistake her for a fragile and delicate creature. But there was a depth of strength lying just beneath the surface, for Valerie Pedretti’s life had been anything but easy.

Born to a single mother who struggled to make ends meet, Valerie often found herself bouncing from one apartment to another in search of that which eluded her little family most, stability. Her mother worked long hours as a waitress, leaving Valerie home alone for much of the day. The radio became Valerie’s constant companion, and she learned to channel her pain, her hunger, and her uncertainty, into singing. She never knew when her next meal was coming, but she could always depend on her voice to carry her through the bad times.

Ah, her voice. It was a thing of beauty, a rare gift that she honed and fine-tuned to stunning perfection. When Valerie sang, her quiet exterior crumbled to bits, transforming her into a thundering force of nature that could shake the rafters. Transmitting a power that was both breathtaking and awe-inspiring, Valerie’s voice left listeners in a state of bewilderment, for nobody thought it possible that so much power could come from someone so little. 

At seventeen, she dropped out of school to work full-time, toiling away scrubbing floors and flipping pancakes just to help her mom keep the lights on. But even though her weary bones ached and her spirit was tired, her inner light wasn’t entirely dimmed. Valerie refused to give up on her dream of becoming a singer. I’m going to see this through, she told herself as she recorded some songs on her neighbor’s tape deck and sent them away into the ether with a prayer. 

She spent every spare moment rehearsing and writing her own music, and took every odd job related to singing that was made available to her. Any gig was a good one, whether it was singing a jingle for a supermarket or working as a session singer on one-off contracts. One day, she’d even gotten the call to audition for Frank Sinatra in Las Vegas. Well, technically, she didn’t get the call. It was her friend Deena who did, but she’d come down with mono. Nevertheless, this was her shot, and she was going to make the best of it—come hell or high water.  

Someone walking by spilled their drink on her sleeve, and this brought her back to reality. Weaving through the crowd, Valerie found her way to the check-in desk. She cleared her throat.

“I’d like to check in, please.”

“What’s the name of the reservation?”

“Val—uh, Deena Lovelace.”

The blonde woman with a pixie cut whose nameplate said Brenda thumbed the appointment book and, after what seemed like an agonizing wait, found her tired guest’s name. “I’ve got you! You’re in room 2106. Just a moment, please.” She headed into the back to retrieve the key, and Valerie swayed from side to side in order to stay awake. 

In an instant, weighty keys were plunked into her hands. Avoiding direct eye contact, she turned on her heel and hoofed it for her room. The hotel was a dizzying array of turns—this way and that—and in her tired stupor, it reminded her of a twisting maze. Her thudding, ungainly steps were muffled by both the shag carpet and the din of the fans congregating in the reception area. 

However, as she continued her journey, the ambiance gradually shifted. The hum of voices grew fainter, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled she was far from the bustling core of the hotel. Finally, she found herself in a secluded spot, standing alone in front of an elevator. She pressed the button and waited, arms aching from the weight of her bulging valises. Inner Valerie cursed herself for packing way too much. 

With no effort at all, she slipped out of her heels and bent her toes backwards and forwards, allowing her feet to relish the feel of the carpet below. It was soft, springy, and just what her aching soles needed. On instinct, she began singing a familiar, yet nameless tune—just a few absentminded bars of sweet little sounds to make the time pass. Notes she’d always turned to when she needed comfort. The thought of washing her face and jumping into bed was the only thing on her mind as the golden doors opened with a tinny ding, only half-startling her out of her exhausted stupor.

The light emanating from the gilt cabin was so intense she hadn’t realized there were people inside. As her eyes adjusted, she quickly shoved her feet back into her shoes, feeling like a complete mess.

"Evening, miss," greeted a man with a shock of red hair and a face peppered with freckles. He held the elevator door with a gesture of gentlemanly politeness, his eyes twinkling with warmth. As she stepped inside, he turned his attention to his companion. The contrast between them was stark.

Beside the redhead in white stood a tall, lean man, exuding an air of effortless elegance. He was dressed head-to-toe in black: sleek trousers, a crisply tailored shirt, and a sharp tuxedo jacket that hung perfectly on his lithe, powerful frame. The one pop of color came from a chic scarf looped around his neck, its pink, black, and white patterns accentuating his perfectly tanned skin. His raven-black hair, styled to perfection, gleamed like quicksilver in the elevator's light. But what really gave him away were the expensive-looking horn-rimmed sunglasses perched atop a flawlessly sculpted nose.

Valerie didn't need a second glance. Even with those sunglasses on, there was no mistaking him. His images, large and in living color, adorned the walls of the hotel's lobby. Everywhere she looked downstairs, his face stared back, and now, she was sharing an elevator with him.

Every ounce of self-awareness about her disheveled appearance vanished instantly, eclipsed by the sheer magnitude of his aura. Her eyes widened to an almost cartoonish extent, and she found herself involuntarily scanning him with exaggerated deliberation—starting from his polished shoes, moving upwards past tailored seams, and culminating at the crown of his meticulously styled hair.

If only he could've peered behind her sunglasses, he'd have seen a gaze not just of surprise, but of utter disbelief. Valerie had never met anyone famous before, let alone a celebrity of his magnitude. 

The man she recognized as Elvis leaned casually against the elevator’s plush wall. His observant eyes, always used to the spotlight, now turned their attention to her. He took in her slumped shoulders and the subtle signs of fatigue etched into her features as she leaned into the far wall across from him.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, honey?” His voice, usually filled with the charisma of a performer, now carried an undertone of genuine warmth and concern. It startled Valerie. 

She nodded, feeling her heart rate pick up. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean, yes. S-something like that." She cursed at herself for not being as eloquent as she wanted to. 

"Hey,” he soothed. “I get it.” He flashed a smile that seemed to blind her in the already bright cabin. "My name is Elvis, and this here is Red. And who might you be, honey?" 

Her intuition was right—it really was him. As if he needed any introduction. A warm blush colored her cheeks. "Valerie," she murmured, her eyes darting downwards. “My name is Valerie.” A small sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw her shoes snugly in place on her feet and not in her hands. 

"Val-e-rie," Elvis repeated, rolling the name over his tongue—savoring every syllable. "That's a beautiful name. Are you in town for a show?"

Valerie shook her head. "Technically, yes. Well, no. Just an audition," she replied, her heart thundering in her ears. Her pulse quickened. She wondered if its rhythmic beats were audible. 

“Who for?”

“Frank Sinatra.”

“Too bad. Could’ve used a pretty little voice like yours in my show. Never hurts to have another one,” he chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief and warmth behind his tinted sunglasses. "Well, I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead," Elvis said, chuckling softly. "You have a lovely voice, I can tell."

Suddenly, Valerie’s cheeks scorched and her throat felt tight. "How do you know that?" she managed to stammer.

Elvis laughed again. "Well, darling, I have a sixth sense about these things," he said. "Plus, I heard you humming just as the door opened. You're just a li’l songbird, ain’t you?"

As Valerie tried to process what was happening, her breath grew rapid and shallow. Every ounce of air she inhaled seemed charged with energy. Here was Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll, not more than three feet from her face, complimenting her voice and giving her a nickname on the spot! She was floored. 

Before she could give an answer, Elvis extended a graceful hand and took hers in his. His cold rings practically smoked upon touching the searing heat of her flushed skin. And just as the elevator doors began to part, revealing his floor, Elvis leaned in and whispered with heartfelt sincerity. “Give it your all tomorrow. I’ve got a feeling they’re in for a treat. Knock ‘em dead, songbird.” Valerie shivered. She thought she saw the slightest glimpse of a smirk on his lips. 

Then, wordlessly, he smoothly, almost teasingly, stepped out of the elevator alongside Red. All that remained was a cloud of heady, spicy cologne. So utterly captivated and dizzied by the overwhelming rush of the brief encounter was Valerie that she found herself leaning against the elevator’s cold wall for support, lest her legs give out and she crumple to the floor. “What was that?” she muttered to herself in disbelief, frantically pressing the button for her floor. As she ascended, her ragged breaths slowly returned to normal. Her body, coiled like a spring, gradually loosened. Warmth dissipated from between her legs. 

It was the first time that Elvis Presley and Valerie Pedretti would meet, but it would be the last time he would ever forget her. Little did they both know that their paths would cross again, in a way that would change both of their lives forever. But for now, Valerie was content to sink into her hotel bed and dream of the handsome stranger she had met in the elevator.

-------------- Tagging you all, because who else would I be without an obsessive rewrite that I wanna show you all? @aliengoth3 @arrolyn1114 @basicpresleygirl @be-my-ally @butler-on-beale-street @buckyysdoll @babylovepresley @ccab @devilsflowerr @dirtyelvisfant4sy @damcoquette @elvislittleone @ellie-24 @foreverdolly @gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @heartbrake-hotel @if-i-can-dream-of-elvis @j-v-9-2 @kendralavon7 @kaiistheguy @loving-elvis @missmaywemeetagain @notstefaniepresley @polksalademma @presleyhearted @thatbanditqueen @whatstruthgottodowithit @whositmcwhatsit @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @samfangirls @powerofelvis

[no-i-cant-decide]

Someday (ao3 link)

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 856

Tags: Fluff, Parenthood, Hope

Requested by @leximitchells 💜

"What are you smiling at?"

Callum glanced up from his phone, still grinning from ear to ear as he showed Ben what was on the screen.

"Stacey brought Lily and little Charli home earlier today," he said. The photo showed the newborn sprawled out in a bassinet while she slept, her dark hair sticking up at wild angles and her tiny hand clutching one of Stacey's fingers.

"As if it ain't noisy enough over there, now we get to hear her crying at all hours as well," Ben complained, though his soft expression didn't match his annoyed tone. "Better kiss your beauty sleep goodbye, babe."

"Nah, I bet she's an angel."

"She's a Slater, Cal. Every Slater woman who's ever lived is part banshee, and that little baby ain't gonna be any different."

Callum hummed in response, swiping through the other photos Stacey had posted, still with that big smile on his face.

"Are you alright?" Ben asked, giving him a funny look. "Anyone would think you've never seen a baby before."

"I just think she's cute, that's all." Callum clicked the screen off and set his phone down on the side table, wrapping his arm around Ben's shoulders as he brought his attention back to the telly.

"It's weird though, innit?" Ben said after a few moments of quiet, snuggling in closer to Callum's chest. "Having a baby at that age. Lily and Ricky are barely a few years older than Lex. Just don't seem right."

"Yeah, I'm with you there. But at least that little girl's got a huge, loving family to help take care of her, eh? It's better than what I had growing up."

Ben smiled up at Callum sympathetically, grabbing the hand wrapped around him and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I ‘spose you're right; there's worse things than having Stacey as a nan. She's done alright with the rest of her lot if you disregard the pregnant twelve year old."

Callum tutted at him, though he didn't argue. A comfortable silence fell over them again as they passively watched the movie playing on the telly. It was one they'd both seen plenty of times, but it was a favourite of theirs. And they loved any excuse to be together, curled up close on the sofa tracing idle patterns across an arm or a leg.

"Do you ever think about it?" Callum asked quietly as he ran his fingers through Ben's hair.

"What, having a pregnant twelve year old?" Ben responded, horrified.

"No, god no! What a nightmare!" He chuckled and scratched gently at Ben's scalp until he felt him relax back against him. "What I meant was, do you ever think about having a baby?"

Ben turned to look at him, a soft smile starting to spread on his face. "Like, us having a baby? You and me?"

"Well, yeah," Callum admitted, feeling his face flush.

It was something that had been on his mind a lot the last few days. Well, not just the last few days. But Callum realised in all the time they'd been married, neither of them had ever brought it up. Not that they'd had enough time to bring it up between every crazy, screwed up thing they had been through in the last four years of their lives. The more time went on, the more Callum wondered if that could ever be in the cards for them.

"I know we haven't really talked about it before, like at all. And I'm not saying I don't like how things are. You and Lexi mean the world to me, our little family is like a dream come true for me. I never in a million years thought I'd be lucky enough to have what we have–"

"Babe, it's alright," Ben soothed, cutting off Callum's rambling by reaching up a hand to cup his jaw. "I know what you meant. It's just- it's bad timing, innit? I've got to make sure Lexi's my focus right now."

"No, I know. That makes total sense." Callum smiled sadly, but tried to hide it by kissing Ben's forehead.

"But that don't mean I haven't thought about it," Ben continued, much to Callum's surprise, "because I have. And I do. Want to. Someday."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just, y'know, when things are more stable with Lex. And with me."

"'Course. I weren't talking right away."

"How could I say no to a little rugrat with your dimples and adorable ears?" Ben said, the fondness in his voice clear as day.

"A baby brother or sister for Lexi to boss around," Callum added with a laugh.

"Oh, she'd love that! She'd absolutely adore them."

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment; looks filled with love and an excitement for the future, something that had become rare for them this last year or so. Callum then leaned down to connect their lips in a chaste kiss. They only broke apart because the giddiness bubbling inside both their chests made their smiles too broad, making it impossible for their lips to keep touching.

"Someday, yeah?" Callum's eyes were shining.

"Yeah," Ben agreed, "someday."

[megarax-ponyo]

I'm sorry for bringing this up, but it's about your Welcome Home AU Would you be comfortable with someone continuing or taking heavy inspiration from your au? I know that you are most likely not going to continue it so I was just curious how comfortable you would be with someone continuing the AU or taking inspiration from it, and if so, would you like credit or not? Do what makes you happy, I hope that some day the Welcome Home Fandom (which I'm apart of) can learn to be less toxic. <3 <3 <3 Love your art <3 <3 <3

Before starting everything I think about it, I thank you very much for the importance of the Au... I thought it was not so loved if I am very honest with everyone. Because of everything they have told me and "exposed" me to being the worst when really nothing is like that... it made me believe that no one liked what I did with my Au

It is comforting for me to know and read these beautiful words ❤

Okay... look, most of you know that I hardly express what I think or feel on the internet, since I love being anonymous and a total mystery

But I have to clarify this for people who follow me here on Tumblr or people who follow me on other networks At once I'm apologizing, because I will be very direct and sharp with my answer, to a point where it may sound somewhat rude, but the intention really is to "cut everything clean" so that people don't come later hungry or opportunistic to want to take advantage of my idea

To avoid further detours - The answer is NO

I will specify myself better - I am not going to give ANYONE my Au. More than anything because this is an idea that cost me a lot to polish and I am proud of what I have created, I am not going to leave it to someone since it could ruin the story or turn it into a more horrifying spectacle than what I had already raised

Now making it clear that I will not let ANYONE continue my story If someone is inspired by my story, the kindest or most respectful thing they can do is give me credit that the original idea is mine, since they can inspire you and many people have been inspired by my story, but if more people think about doing it, I ask them I strongly recommend that you give credit to the person you based your story on (in this case me)

In short, YES, I would like to receive credit for it and NO, I do not feel AT ALL COMFORTABLE that someone continues my story

Since I plan to do two things, that my story stays as long as I left it and that the concept can be used for random drawings in the future

Or redo the story with different characters but much softer, since really the original concept of my story is very hard to see, even for adult people

Again, I'm sorry to be crudely honest but I have to be because there will always be people who want to take advantage of it, so you always have to make things clear from the beginning if you want to avoid problems in the future

For now I want to start another project that is much more lively and fun, I will leave aside the dark and cryptic stories for the moment, it also means that I want to start off on the right foot in another Fandom A Fandom that has really shown me support and I like it Because in WH they have only classified me in the worst ways and many artists blocked me without me doing something wrong... more than just writing a dark story

Adding that Fadom is being consumed by toxicity and cancellations all the time... like you really don't want to continue in a community like this, Where everyone is in a pitched war to see who is the worst

That's why I preferred to leave the war in peace, Just leave because I was tired of everyone seeing me as a monster or something worse... *Sigh*

Anyway - I don't like showing my feelings much on the internet, since I think it's useless So I'll leave it here and I hope my answer has been very clear about my decision with my story

Very soon I will return with new things and fresh drawings ✨❤ I love you all and thank you for your support of my work ❤✨

[madphantom]

Susan's Hell Sprint snippet number 2 let's go

Log of Susan Adams, written December 1st, 1973 (cont'd)

I woke up alone in the living room. The light was still on and bathing the place in a soft, warm light. I was still in a half sleep drunken haze, and despite the fact that my neck hurt from falling asleep on the couch, I was oddly comfortable there. I slid down, curled up, and was just about to drift off again when I suddenly heard an ugly scraping sound, like nails against glass.

I opened my eyes. Suddenly I was wide awake. My heart was racing. The sound had been right behind me.

When I turned around I saw something red softly sway behind the window.

“Hello?”, I whispered, my voice cracking in fear. “Who's there?”

Nothing. No answer. The swaying continued.

I slowly got up and turned towards the window, pushing the photographs off my knees. Through the dust it was hard to see a thing. I could make out a vaguely humanoid silhouette, but it was upside down. Everything inside me was screaming not to open that window, but once I had begun to move, I couldn't stop myself.

The handle was cold beneath my fingers. The paint peeled off in tiny white chips. I twisted the handle and with a creak, the window opened.

A woman was hanging upside down in the apple tree and staring at me with wide open green eyes, her burnt cindered face twisted into a grotesque, horrifying grin. Her long matted, crispy hair rustled in the breeze like dry leaves and she was gently swaying back and forth. The wind played with her dress - her beautiful, burning, blood red dress.

I woke up with a scream. It was pitch dark. The wind whistled around the house and the tree scraped against the walls like an animal begging to be let inside. My heart was racing. Before I knew what I was doing, my shaking hands dialed the number on the piece of paper Rory had given me. Tears were streaming down my face. I felt like I was eight again, except this time around there was no Aunt Dot who could come in and save the moment. Aunt Dot was dead and I was alone and that horrifying vision of the woman in red could not and would not leave my mind. It was burned into the insides of my eyelids.

When Rory picked up he sounded surprisingly awake. “Hello?”

“Hi, it's Susan.” I fumbled with the telephone cable. “I, uh, I had a nightmare.”

“Oh, dear. I could be over in, say, twenty minutes? Can you manage that long?”

“Yeah.” My voice was quiet.

“Great. See you then.”

“Thank you.”

The quiet beep beep after he ended the call brought me back to reality. I shivered and curled up on the sofa. My heart was racing. I wanted to get out of here, out of here, out of here.

Something rustled in the leaves outside the window. I flinched, closed my eyes tight. Go away. Go away. GO AWAY.

I heard a scream under my window and for a split second I thought it was a woman and my heart skipped a beat, until I realized it was a fox. The animal hissed. Snarled. For a few moments it was quiet.

“Oh, fuck right off,” I heard a familiar voice call outside, followed by something rustling in the thickets in front of the window.

So there was something there.

The doorbell went off. I took a deep breath. Then I jumped to my feet, and without looking at the window behind me, I raced downstairs, trying my best to ignore imaginary faces grinning at me from the floral wallpapers. GET AWAY FROM ME.

I opened the door and sobbing, collapsed into Rory's arms. I tried to say something, explain how terrified I'd been, but I couldn't even speak.

“Oh my god,” he just whispered reassuringly and ran a hand through my hair. “That bad?”

I nodded. Sobs were shaking me. Rory closed the door behind himself.

“Shh, it's alright,” he whispered, but I could feel he was tense. And when I finally gathered myself enough to take a step back and a deep breath, I realized why. On his thigh, concealed as well as possible by the leather jacket he'd hastily tied around his waist, was a massive gash, and fresh red blood had just begun to seep into the fabric of his jeans.

[beantothemax]

I need all the Travelers in the God au to have at least one scene where they just use their true form and scare the shit out of everyone.

Hikari vs Mugen except it isn't even a battle. It's just Brand finally crushing the Curse he took on and then letting out all his rage against Mugen because how dare he do this in his name. How dare he spill blood for the sake of Conquest and not to bring peace. How dare he. The fight is not a fight. It is judgement and everyone screams for Mugen's head. And who is Brand to deny that? The Earth shakes in fear in his rage.

Arcanette is mocking Temenos and all of a sudden things go insanely bright and you have Aelfric stand before her and tell her she's a fool for thinking she can defeat him. Light always finds a way and just because he's good doesn't mean he's Merciful. He doesn't have to be Merciful to those who twist and manipulate. Light consumes her and burns her from the inside out.

Castti looks upon Timberain and its rain and is eternally grateful for the interventions she's made with her Apothecaries. She's eternally grateful for intervening and making sure they never go down this Nihilistic Path. And then she takes a deep breath and Dohter steps forward to cleanse the rain and waters, walking by the houses to see if her Apothecaries can go to all the houses before walking outside the walls and cleansing those who were unfortunately caught in the crossfire.

Ori is dying at the Fellsun Ruins, realizing last minute that she wants to live and seeing Partitio step forward and apologize. And then she blinks and sees Bifelgan gently telling her that it isn't her time yet and that he's sorry that the world was cruel to her when it should never be. And then she closes her eyes and wakes up at the inn with an Apothecary telling her that a Merchant came by and brought her here at almost impossible speeds and how all they could feel is dread at the idea of their own end. Trade means many things after all.

Harvey laughs at Osvald, saying how he will never be as good as him, and then the moment Elena exits the picture, he feels the Elements crush him. And he sees Alephan walking forward telling him knowledge that he doesn't even know and it's too much and then in a blink he's gone.

Claude marvels at his spawn and how she refused to cut down three of her siblings with her. And then that marvel turns into horror as she steps forward and reveals herself. Aeber is the Prince of Thieves and Treasure and Belongings. And she has decided that her siblings are hers and themselves and no one else's. He wanted a garden? Then rot in it forever. Be undying as your children thrive in your rot and you in turn can not die. A blessing she "borrowed" from Aelfric and Dohter.

Ochette looks to the Lajackel and cries for him and his years. He did not deserve it. The Lajackel looks up and sees Draefendi, the creator of all beasts and nuzzles up to her, comforted by the thought that the god still sees him as himself and not a dark creature. He passes in peace and happiness that the goddess will strike down all those who try to recreate his condition.

Agnea invites Dolcinaea to a dance in private and both of them do dance. They dance in joy and happiness and Dolcinaea turns and sees Sealiteage happy and laughing. And she is in awe by her beauty and voice. And she hears the goddess tell her that she only needs to worry about herself and that her own talents brought her that far. That she used none of her powers to win. That all of it was just what she truly was. If she used her powers then everyone would fall at her feet and give them their everything. There is something comforting and horrifying about that.

TES YE SYE SYSZYEYSYESY YES YES TES TO ALL KF THIS I LOVE THIS

the travelers have all gone through so much they‘ve earned utterly crushing their opponents with divine fury