#do Not tell me what happens I will hunt you down

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Love at first (club) Meeting.

Damian wants to make friends in school. He asked Colin what he should do to get this accomplishment after months of failure.

The friend recommended joining school clubs, affectionately telling him that he was in a sewing club at his own public school.

Damian didn't see how getting into an organization dedicated to some hobby was going to cause friendships, but Colin seemed to have a decent amount of friends when he wasn't running around as Abuse.

He went to check on the clubs available, but nothing really got his attention. There was the art club but only one meeting told him that it wasn't for him. The club was more for his classmates to stand around and chit chat.

None of them actually did any art, seeing as the ussually club advisor was away on maternity leave. The substitute is the baseball couch on off-season, and although he encouraged everyone to draw, it wasn't the same amount of fun as normal activities.

The other kids assured him that they would be painting and sculpting once Mrs. Flor came back, but Damian didn't want to wait.

So he leaves and tries to find a new one. The world history club bored him with useless trivia, and the chess club had no worthy challengers.

Damian decides to try one last time before giving up, when he encounters Daniel Fenton trying to get a second signature for his Ghost Hunting Club.

Fenton is from outside of Gotham. He moved here with his family after Father bought out his family business, having turned their research into defenses against aliens. Damian had seen him around school, but other than the occasional bully, no one paid too much attention to him.

Gotham Academy had four requirements for a student run club. There had to be two members to be officially started. They needed to keep a clear recap of their club minutes, a teacher had to sign as their advisor and, for the first two years, had to be without a bank account.

Fenton held up his pathetic sign-up sheet in front of passing students. He stammers, "Would like to join the Ghost hunter-um if I could bother you for a moment - are you interested in-excuse me"

Damian watches Fenton try over and over to ask for a second club memeber, but no one bothers to even hear his full question. They walk right by him as if though they could see through Fenton. He can't say why but that upsets him.

Before Damian knows what he's doing he finds his feet marching towards Fenton. The boy is staring down at his clipboard with a disheartened expression before he spots Damian.

Fenton's jaw drops, and his eyes grow impossiblely wide as Damian gets closer. He draws his clip board up to his chest, staring at the Wayne as if he was the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

Surely Damian is not that different looking than any other human. Why is he acting like that?

"Good morning," He says when he finally stands in front of Fenton. The boy's face turns s red "I am Damian Wayne."

"Hi, I'm Danny, um Fenton, I'm Danny Fenton," the other rambles while nervously tapping his fingers on the back of the clipboard.

"Well, met Fenton. I overheard you are requesting signatures for a club?"

"Oh!" Fenton turns the clipboard but in his haste it slips from his hold, landing on the ground with loud thump. Damian raises a brow while Fenton breaks out into a sweat.

Damian leans down to grab the board at the same time, Fenton throws himself forward, and he sees the collusion before it happens, but Damian knows that a regular child wouldn't be able to dodge it without raising questions. He allows Fenton's forhead to slam against his with a hiss.

"I'm sorry!" Fenton gasps out, but Damian heeds him no mind, as he signs the form with a flourish. The harsh strokes of his pen echo in the hallway, informing Damian that he needs to head to class before the second bell.

"I shall see you after school. We can see the famous haunted bathroom in the gym. " He tells the fool, slapping the clipboard into the boy's hand. Damian twists on his heel, strutting away. He throws a hand over his shoulder, calling back. "Ta"

He misses the look of utter awe adoration aimed at his back or the rapid growing infatuation in his clubmates' eyes.

It's the start of Damian's very odd club because he finds he actually enjoys walking around the school trying to find readings for ghosts. He even enjoys following Fenton to abandon buildings, dark sewers and sitting around with childish recordings asking for any signs of the afterlife.

That's mostly due to how nervous Fenton was when wandering into haunted places. He finds great joy in watching Fenton try to put a brave face on despite shaking in his boots when a ghost might be around.

It may be cruel of Damian, but it's highly entertaining.

Danny is not scared of ghosts - that would be a bit counterproductive given his Halfa status. He is crushing hard on Damian Wayne, and when he has a crush, he gets ridiculous nervous around them that it's easier to blame the shaking, the sweating and shuttering on phasmophobia.

But could anyone blame him? Damian Wayne is a walking work of art, so much that when Danny first saw him in the hallway, he was half sure, the surroundings had dimmed.

He wasn't exaggerating when Danny thought Damian had stardust and white doves floating around his head at all times. He was that stunning.

And he had walked up to Danny to join his club, the one he had been trying for almost a week to get started because he was tired of being a friendless loser and took up Sam's advice in a desperate last ditch effort. He is so glad he had that video call with her because without it, he would never have gotten to speak to Damian.

They were in different classes, had different lunch periods, and frankly, Damian was the son of the richest man in the country. Danny was the random kid on scholarship with creepy ghost powers hunting other ghosts.

He wrote poems about Damian's eyes when flying over Gotham, sighing like a pathetic school boy. He also dodges a kuni shoot at him by Robin.

Ugh, he hates that guy. He's so rude and has been trying to hunt Danny down ever sense they arrived in Gotham. He was scary good at what he did, and the only reason Danny stayed free was Robin not understanding that he was after a ghost.

Robin thought he was a meta and had attack because of that. Which, racist much? Danny openly mocked him just to get on Robin's nerves.

Batman let Robin cause after the meta because he could tell from that little smile as he raced after the glowing figure that Damian found the other attractive. It reminds him of his early years chasing Catwoman across the rooftops.

Maybe Gotham wasn't so bad a move after all.

[moonlitnyx]

“𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 !”

ᯓ‪❤︎‬︎‬ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Boothill x GN Reader

ᯓ‪❤︎︎‬ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: Fluff, mentions of alcohol, It can be inferred that reader is not a fan of drinking, mentions of puke, catcalling (only happens once, and it's just a whistle!), Reader is a Galaxy Ranger, Boothill and Reader are in a relationship, story is set in a pub

ᯓ‪❤︎‬︎‬ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: Drabble

ᯓ‪❤︎︎‬ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR WEEKS ummm is this a sign of writers burnout??? Anyway boothill 🤤

The first thing that greets you when you enter the pub is the reeking stench of alcohol and sweat, and the laughs of half-drunk individuals on their second glass of beer. 

It makes your nose scrunch up, your hands itching towards the hilt of your gun. The atmosphere makes your skin crawl, and with a defeated sigh you remind yourself why you're here in the first place–to see your favorite cyborg cowboy who had a penchant for visiting the more…seedier places in town.

You sidestep a tired waiter, dancing around arms reaching for their next shot of booze and glaring at a scarred individual who whistles in your direction. You almost want to start clawing your eyes out when you pass by what seems to be dried vomit on the floor.  

When you finally see him, you almost kneel down to the ground praising the Hunt (you hadn’t thought–because you were probably sure you’d get vomit on your pants). Instead, you hit the back of his head, earning you a string of colorful curses before he glares up at you. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Boothill rolls his eyes, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. “Haven’ seen ya in months and this is what I get,” He dodges your second attempt of a hit. It's your turn to roll your eyes, but you plant a chaste kiss on his lips which effectively makes the man's cheeks a red hue.

“Thank the Aeons that I found you! If I had to dodge another poor lightweight, I'd have killed someone. Someone being me.” 

“Dramatic much?” One metal finger traces the rim of his cup and you scowl. 

“How do you even handle these places?” You begrudgingly ask, and he answers with a laugh. 

“People like you don’ belon’ here, doll.” You shove him away playfully as he toothily grins, twirling a strand of hair between his index and thumb. 

“You bet. I’d rather sleep after a mission. Soooo, tell me about yours.” Boothill groans, dragging a hand over his face before taking a swing of his cup, draining the golden-brown liquid in it. 

“That bad?” You offer him a sympathetic smile.

“The IPC, bein’ the lil fudgers that they are, are on my case 24/7. Even when I ain’t dealin’ with those lil brats, I still have bounty hunters chasin’ me up and down.”

“Poor, poor Boothill.” You coo, earning you a nasty glare from the Galaxy Ranger and a laugh from yourself.

@ MOONLITNYX. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr. do not put my works in AI

[pbnbucks]

can you write something about meeting Caitlin because ur family are family friends and you two develop a relationship?

Caitlin x Reader!

What Happens In Bora Bora Stays In Bora Bora

word count : 1574

warnings : cussing, friends to enemy’s to lovers, somewhat leads to smut, jealousy

summary : your dad and caitlin’s dad worked together and made lots of money so when they had a scheduled buisness trip and decided to bring the whole family down you and caitlin where put to room together.

i made this at 6am so if it sucks my apologies!

your sitting in your cabana in Bora Bora waiting to be told the rooms suituation only to be hit with total disappointed “I just got off the phone with Brent and we decided you and caitlin will be staying in a cabana together while we are in Bora Bora” your family was close with the clark family because for generations they worked together in the family industry. you where close with Brent and Anne, along with their sons except their daughter caitlin. she often picked arguments with you and she didn’t bother hiding her hatred for you. nobody knew exactly why she hated you, your guy’s parents always thought it was because you where the same age (16) and similar in many ways and equally stubborn. although caitlin wasn’t always like this, when you first met when you where 4 and she was a sweet heart up until you guys where 14, thats when it all changed and compliments changed to snarky comments. something in her changed the way she viewed you she went from idolizing you and protecting you to being disgusting by you and filled with hatred towards you. but by the end of the trip it would all change because by the end of 3 weeks shared in a cabana in bora bora together something was bound to happen.

“do i seriously have to share a room with her i mean she hates me and i don’t want to deal with her the entire time” you say trying to convince your dad to make any change in the vacation arrangements. “actually it was her idea she wanted to share a room with you, wouldn’t let anybody else get the spot” great. her goal was to make the vacation terrible for me. “please dad im begging you its a trap her entire goal is to ruin my vacation” he just rolled his eyes at you “they will be here any minute so better hurry up and choose your side of the room.” you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. as soon as he walks out you hear her voice making small talk with your father, she has always kisses up to the adults and the second they turned a blind eye she completely changed. she of course walks in with a attitude already and waits for you to tell her the room arrangement “so i picked the left side of the room so that leaves you the right and i’ll probably go explore in about 30 minutes once im unpacked.” she walks past you making sure the shove against you, not hard but hard enough for you to notice. “look if you just forced yourself into being my roommate just to make my life hell ill gladly go find somebody to room with instead” hopefully trying to get her to quit whatever act she had going on but instead she just laughs at you “your not scary so just sit down princess, and i think i will join you on your little scavenger hunt” shes unbelievable.

TIME SKIP.

its now been 3 days that where full of hiding from caitlin making sure to be out by the time she was awake and come back when she was asleep. shes caught up to what you where doing but to entitled with her ego to question it so instead she drops subtle hints to inform you that she knows what your doing and to cut it out. but you genuinely have no want to argue with her. a good this is you met this girl Maddie on you trip, you brought her by your cabana once but it was extremely awkward with caitlin there, all of a sudden she became extremely possessive with you and even putting her arm around you saying that you where her best friend. you thought that maybe she just didn’t have friends back home and it would make sense with the way she acted.

you where brushing your hair getting ready to meet up with Maddie but instead caitlin walks in on you in the bathroom, “where are you going?” is she being serious? she treated you like shit for the past 3 days and all of a sudden wants to know where your going. “im going to go swimming with Maddie ill be back around 10.” she immediately shuts down you idea and tells you otherwise “no your not im tired of having to wait and stay up at night cause you want to go out with some girl all day and night.” “dude caitlin what the fuck are you even talking about right now, maybe act like a normal person on vacation and go make some friends clearly your lacking some.” she scoffs at your true, but mean comment. “im not lacking any friends nor do i need any, and you one to talk about friends in supposed to be your best friend and yet your blowing me off to hang out with some random girl” best friend? she wishes. “what are you talking about best friend? we are far from friends because you cant get your head out of your own ass. now if you will get out my way so i can hangout with my friend and enjoy my vacation away from you” you shove out the way not giving her the chance to even disagree with you and walk out the door only to greet maddie’s face as she is already there waiting for you, before she can even greet you, you drag her by the arm and run down the long hallway to the water. “im sorry caitlin was giving me a tough time and she was close to coming out and breaking the door down” she laughs thinking you where joking but only if she knew what you had to put up with. “i think she might be in love with you.” you cant believe the words that just came out of her mouth. “whats with everybody and trying to ruin my day.”

ANOTHER TIME SKIP

its now 10pm and you said your goodbyes to your friend as you parted ways only to be greeted with a locked door, you knock on the door begging caitlin to let you in turning the door knob hoping that she will listen but nothing works, your last hope is to say something you know would piss her off and give you a long night but you just deeply wanted to go to bed. “caitlin seriously let me in before i have to room with Maddie.” once you finish your sentence you immediately hear foot steps coming you way to have your door swing open greeting a angry cait, you push past her “seriously you locked me out? why cant you not be a asshole for one day” she rolls her eyes at you “me, im the asshole now? and stop bringing up Maddie i couldn’t give to fucks about your friend.” unbelievable “well clearly you did cause you let me in as soon as i mentioned rooming with her, and you know what i am going to room with her because thankfully she wouldn’t kick me out my own room.” as soon as you said that her face got red and she pressed you up against the door pushing you bodies close together and her forehead resting on yours “your. not. leaving. this. room. got it?” you didn’t know if it was the butterflies in your stomach or her hands gripping at your waste and her mouth and body extremely close to yours but you craved her touch and you wanted more and the only way you know how to get more was by pissing her off. “or what? you cant control me caitlin especially not with the way you act” there was only one thing you wanted to hear from her and it was for her to beg for you. after all these years of constant arguements someone who claims they hate you, ends up needing you so badly. “cmon cait i want to hear you beg for me to stay.” she hesitates hoping you would give up “ you can be serious, im not going to beg.” you just smile at her words “im serious and if you wont beg im rooming with Maddie.” she groans at your words “fine.” theres a long silence for her mentally trying to prepare herself for what shes about to say “please y/n, don’t go room with her.” there was those words you wanted to hear so badly although it wasn’t enough. something in you just clicked “aww is that really what you want baby?” her eyes widen staying their for a second before deciding her next move, no going back now. her lips attack yours and her hand that was on your hip now find your neck making you moan into the kiss, it was the shock you have because this is the first time in a while that she has shown affection for you. she pulls away to gather her breathe but before she pulls you in for more you stop her “y’know i think i have more control over you then you let me know” she gives you her little smirk shes known for “oh yeah? why don’t you show me princess? you up for a challenge?” maybe this was your chance of getting your relationship back, you couldn’t miss your opportunity “of course.”

[theendorisit]

magnus protocol season 1 part 1 praise and credits

all right my lovelies, we are at our Magnus protocol hiatus and you know what that means?

Credit where credit is due, we do not get wonderful stories without wonderful storytellers, and storytellers don’t get to tell stories without the people working tirelessly to bring the story to the audience. So thanks to everyone at Rusty Quill who makes these stories possible! I also want to shout praises to our part 1 guest writers: Graeme Patrick, Cole Weavers, Jamie Petronis, Shaun Pellington. Stellar work everyone!

All credits and my thoughts on each episode are below, so SPOILERSSSSSSSSS, you have been warned.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 1 – First Shift

CAT1RBC5257-12052022-09012024 Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret [Email] CAT23RAB2155-10042022-09012024 Transformation (eyes) -/- Trespass [chat log]

Written by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall

Script Editing by Alexander J Newall and Jonathan Sims 

Thoughts: stunner of a first episode, juggling meeting literally everyone and setting up the huge diversity of case styles we will be seeing. Also shout out to Alex for making sure we got such a banger of a line: ‘Canaries should stay above ground’.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 2 – Making Adjustments

CAT3RBC1567-23092022-18012024 Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Editing by Jonathan Sims 

Thoughts: Like walking down a stone spiral staircase, you never know what the next thing is going to be (but you know it'll be dark and make your stomach drop a little). Enjoying the twist on accurate CS terminology (yes, contractors ARE called Externals).

The Magnus Protocol Episode 3 – Putting Down Roots

CAT2C8175-03042009-22012024 Infection (full body) -/- arboreal [journal entry]

Written by Graeme Patrick (for more of his work visit https://www.aintslayednobody.com)

Script Editing with Additional Materials by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall

Thoughts: absolutely now a fan favourite, compelling gruesome body horror, with an intriguing backstory. The slow unravelling of a mind. Brings to mind horrors like Kafka's The Metamorphosis and the film The Ruins (not because they are similar stories necessarily, but, well, vibes). Definitely need more Graeme Patrick in my life!

The Magnus Protocol Episode 4 – Taking Notes

CAT3C7494-19111831-29012024 Collection (blood) -/- musical [letter]

Written by Cole Weavers (for more of his work visit https://www.thetownwhispers.com)

Script Editing with Additional Materials by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall

Thoughts: A curious tale, that gets more curious in the re-hearing. Sure, an instrument plays the player. But how was the teacher driven wild BEFORE the pupil got the special violin? Maybe the chaos was from him, and the violin was a conduit? Got to hear more Cole stories! Dear grandpa Augustus does always tell such lovely stories, if Tim Fearon can narrate my life, that would be great thx. Also - need a promotion? get your windows NT to tattle on your boss! Lena giving Gertrude vibes with the killing-my-assistants theme.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 5 – Personal Screening

CAT2RB2377-10012023-05022024 Disappearance (undetermined) -/- Invitation [internet blog]

Written by Alexander J Newall and Jamie Petronis (for more of his work visit https://www.thecellarletters.com/)

Script Editing with Additional Materials by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall.

Thoughts: I really love this one, it is such a brilliant thrilling story that genuinely has me shouting 'WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED? I need more details!!' - which is a hallmark of all good mysteries honestly. Will be on the hunt for more Jamie stories.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 6– Introductions

CAT1RB4824-09022024-12022024 Injury (needles) -/- intimidation [999 call]

Written by Jonathan Sims

Script Editing with Additional Materials by Alexander J Newall

Thoughts: Needles is a lame tryhard. I love him. Also Alice referring to Lena as 'Big Bird' is hilarious. Also, yay, Celia!

The Magnus Protocol Episode 7 – Give and Take

CAT2RC3338-03022016-12022024 Agglomeration (miscellany) -/- congregation [email]

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Editing with Additional Materials by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: I really hope that Mr Clayton turns up again. As the remains of a crime scene. Also, worldbuilding: hello Oxford. hello people in what is essentially an antique shop repeating the same phrases. Getting déjà vu. And Gwen, you know the Civil Service is really easy to move around, right? You can get a secondment, a loan, a transfer, there's internal job adverts... are you sure you want a promotion?

The Magnus Protocol Episode 8 – Running on Empty

CAT2RBC3366-12072023-28022024 Architecture (liminal) -/-hunger [coursework]

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Editing with Additional Materials by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: I feel like I just experienced a TMA/Backrooms crossover and I can dig it. Interesting repetition of ... repetition as a theme ('people' repeating phrases over and over). I like this one a lot, I feel that it communicates a great deal about the way this universe (or at least, its spooky experiences) works. Also, I really really hope Gee Gee is a villain in this story, just so Sue Sims can be the tiny cackling witch she was destined to be.

Interestingly, the official transcript has the name Hostile Workplace - an early title perhaps?

The Magnus Protocol Episode 9 – Rolling With It

CAT3RB3354-14101998-08032024 Dice (bone) -/- fate [Magnus Statement]

Written by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall

Thoughts: This is a fun one, and does put an interesting twist on the idea of owning an artefact, that one could compel others to take the negative consequences. Can't decide if the ending (oh one last time) is too predictable - but definitely immensely satisfying. Also, I'm not sure if the truck/diner death is a direct reference to a final destination movie ending, but I noticed some similarities.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 10 – Saturday Night

CAT1RB2275-06082021-09032024 Mascot (kids) -/- murder [TV interview]

Written by Jonathan Sims

Script Edited with additional material by Alexander J Newall

Thoughts: appropriately named! The sound design for this episode gives me intensely-visual mental images of the TV interview, and I really want a YouTube video unpacking the Bonzo Butcher and his crimes, timelines, arrest, everything.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 11 – Marked

CAT23RC5246-06012020-11032024 Tattoo (corpse) -/- compulsion [email exchange]

Written by Jonathan Sims

Script Edited with additional material by Alexander J Newall  

Thoughts: Shirley Jackson Susan Hill called, she wants to know when she can have her haunted typewriter back.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 12 – Getting Off

CAT1RB4728-09032024-13032024 Mascot (kids) -/- frenzy [insurance claim]

Written by Alexander J Newall 

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims  

Thoughts: Possibly my favourite so far. Alex is bringing the gory horror and it's perfect. Excellent descriptive storytelling - opening a guy's head like a book is a visual I did not know I needed.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 13 – Futures

CAT3RB4622-17092023-14032024 Gambling (application) -/- murder [voicemail]

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: Can someone get Alex in as a writer for Black Mirror? The series might actually get good as a result. Also can someone start a series tally for died in a hospital bed due to wickedly cool sound design? Thanks. Death by personal adjustment is giving TMA season 5 Mortal Garden vibes.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 14 – Pet Project

CAT1RB4426-01081995-15032024 Transformation (snake) -/-horde

Written by Shaun Pellington (https://www.imdb.com/name/nm14461505/)

Script Edited with additional material by Alexander J Newall and Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: Sometimes well-written characters come and punch you in the gut. Character writing isn't always prioritised in horror, as the characters can just be the vehicle through which horror happens. But the transition from report to last message to dad really hit hard, and the story was creepy af. Shaun writes podcasts and voice acts, so check out his stuff.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 15 – Well Run

CAT1RB-6451-22062023-22032024 Hunt (aristocratic) -/- compulsion

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims

 Thoughts: the real horror is being forced to be the monster. Yet you had a choice, you chose the monster, before anyone else could. I will always praise the sound team, though it is amazing how a shot through a window also kinda sounds like a brick wall falling down. I enjoyed Alice's run-in with the drowned woman, great writing, sound design and authentically chaotic. Also, let us all simp for Lady Mowbray, purely because it disgusts Jonny.

The official transcript also has an alternate name Good Show

I know exactly what Jonny means about disgust for the aristocracy, but his reaction is too funny to not do it.

PSA - nellie the elephant was dropped as a CPR technique bc you need to depress a chest by 2 inches to pump someone's heart, and compressions were too shallow when people used that song. Another One Bites The Dust and Stayin' Alive are better rhythms to use.

 The Magnus Protocol Episode 16 – Anti-social

CAT1RB1565-30102023-25032024 Tattoo(influencer)-/- Cardiac

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: I genuinely really like this case and the character. Sure, cringy, but she's young, overexcited, and wants attention, like every other human being on the planet. I think she's quite a compelling character to follow, as she trips headlong into abject misery. Spectacular sound design on the death scene.

Also, a lot of people were complaining about the slang, but given the load of cringy slang that the fandom made the cast read out: this episode was 100% deserved. You want them to call their characters dummy thicc? You made your cringy slang bed, now lie in it (I say with love, affection, and sarcasm).

I am aware part of the complaints were that non-AAVE characters were using AAVE - but unfortunately, that is how real life, and real slang use, works. For example, the word 'cool' meaning good, has been around since the 1930's, and originated from Black Americans in the Jazz scene. Now, everyone uses it. I can't comment on whether this is good or right (and I don't think the show does either), only that the show's use/misuse of slang is accurate to real life.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 17 – Saved Copy

CAT2RC1147-30111997-04042024 Doppleganger (interdimensional) -/- murder

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: Alex and Jonny are very good at twisting existing formats. Evil Twin/Doppleganger? Oh he'll want to kill you, replace you, drain your life, steal your existen- oh he wants a friend to play in his murder dungeon? That's new! Also, the receptionist and orchid-pervert - stop being a tease Alex!

The Magnus Protocol Episode 18 – Solo Work

CAT1RC2374-20032024-10042024 Memory (derelict) -/- compulsion

Written by Jonathan Sims

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: How can a body speak without lungs? Autopsy reports are some of my favourite horror (see The Mortuary Assistant game and the autopsy of Jane Doe film). A house full of fog and forgotten poems.

Also, I got the credit details from the official transcript, so I'm not sure if Jonny writing and editing his own script is an error or deliberate, but it is kind of funny on an episode called 'Solo Work'.

Everyone complains about the AQA Anthology (2004) we had to read for English GCSE, but I loved it intensely.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 19 – Hard Reset

CAT13RBC1137-21031684-11042024 Transformation (canine) -/- growth (Crystalline)

Written by Alexander J Newall

Script Edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims

Thoughts: Alex writes the word 'Christendom' in a story and is immensely happy about it. I get the deep suspicion that Alex and Jonny have 'Edward-Kun'-ed the boys into a horrific electronic chimera a la Full Metal Alchemist. Excellent world-building. Wonder if the 'Protocol' is going to be 'yeah, we find people acting sus, and we teach them what the second part of 'fuck around and find out' actually entails'. Also COLIN ISN'T DEAD YET. YAYYYYY.

The Magnus Protocol Episode 20 – Social Stigma

CAT1RAB2534-12042024-12042024 Transformation (tattoo) -/- Social Media (influencer)

Written by Jonathan Sims

Script Edited with additional material by Alexander J Newall

Thoughts: Talking to a supernatural person... in person. I love it. Interesting dialogue on parasocial relationships and Gwen trying and failing to be an authority figure is hilarious (I am very similar!). Gwen's playlist is just RESPECT covered by Aretha Franklin on repeat. She can't get no respect ever.

Created by Johnathan Sims (@jonnywaistcoat)  and Alexander J Newall (@rqbossman) Directed by Alexander J Newall  Executive Producers April Sumner, Alexander J Newall, Jonathan Sims, Dani McDonough, Linn Ci, and Samantha F.G. Hamilton Associate Producers Jordan L. Hawk, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius d’Raven, and Megan Nice Produced by April Sumner    Featuring (in order of appearance) Billie Hindle as Alice Dyer

Kazeem Tosin Amore as Teddy Vaughn Anusia Battersby as Gwendolyn Bouchard (@anouchard) Shahan Hamza as Samama Khalid Sarah Lambie as Lena Kelley Alexander J Newall as Norris Jonathan Sims as Chester Kate Sketchley as Daria Jenny Haufek as Therapist

Tim Fearon as Augustus Paul Schmidt as Klaus

Hattie Quinlan as Operator 1 Harry Roebuck as Needles Tom Park as Operator 2 Joe Bence as Police Operator Lowri Ann Davies as Celia Ripley

Jon Gracey as Gerry Keay Sue Sims as Gertrude Robinson

Catherine Luff as Geraldine Hardy Steve Newman as Nigel Dickerson

Uncredited as Mr. Bonzo Beth Eyre as [Error]

Zena Carswell as Answerphone Euan Shedden as DarrienEp

Jesse Hawke as Voicemail Danny Scarre as Caterer Ellie Dickens as Lady Mowbray Yanick Ghanty as Luke Dyer Lara Sawalha as Drowning Victim

Vera Chok as Ink5oul Ki Griffin as Madam E

Sasha Sienna as Georgie Barker (@sashasienna)

----

Dialogue Editor – Lowri Ann Davies Sound Designers – Tessa Vroom, Katharine Seaton, Meg McKellar, Mastering Editor - Catherine Rinella

Music by Sam Jones (orchestral mixes by Jake Jackson) Art by April Sumner    Fabulous work everyone! Can't wait for the next part!

Official transcripts: https://rustyquillcom.sharepoint.com/Shared%20Documents/Forms/AllItems.aspx?id=%2FShared%20Documents%2FRusty%20Quill%20Public%20Access%2FTranscripts%2FThe%20Magnus%20Protocol%2FPublic&p=true&ga=1

[raayllum]

Full Circle: Season 6 and Through the Moon

Because I love patterns and chiastic structure and watched Prince of Egypt again earlier tonight, I was thinking a lot about the utilization of repeating plot beats in TDP, as I'm wont to do. If you want more detailed examples for what I mean, check out this old meta about the Dragon Quartet in arc 1, or this meta about Karim walking Viren's previous political path.

Now on a basic level, parallels make sense. Characters making similar choices in parallel situations helps build their characterization; characters making slightly or completely different decisions in parallel / similar situations provides character growth (positive or negative / both), progression, and contrast.

However, sometimes you'll get episodes or plot structures that are effectively growing in tandem with each other. I'm going to provide an episode example first, and then a seasonal example.

Episode: In 1x06 and 3x04, Rayla is keeping a secret regarding her emotional pain. Callum tries to get her to open up / support her three times, but she refuses each time. Finally when Callum reaches out to her, she can't keep it all under wraps anymore and has a big emotional spiel / breakdown because she doesn't feel worthy of that support. While understandable and accidental, these poorly timed outbursts leads to something awful happening to Zym (egg in the ice, and stolen by Nyx).

Season: In 2x01, both Callum and Viren are denied something they want (an arcanum and a seal) because of their current lack of status (magical, political). In 2x04 they are tempted by a more self destructive path (the lightning rod and blood deal with Aaravos) but ultimately step away. In 2x07, they go back on this more positive decision, and tether themselves to Aaravos/dark magic (Callum uses it for the first time, and Viren does the blood ritual). 2x08 sees them face their mirrored reflections (dark magic Callum and Aaravos in the mirror). At the end of the season, they both achieve higher magical prowess, but for Callum it's internal (primal magic) and for Viren it's external (little bug pal) and more forcefully enters his body (through the ear). Callum is 'free' (sky magic) and Viren ends the season in chains.

What these examples mean, then, is that I think there's good grounds for a lot of Through the Moon's plot beats to work their way into Season 6, but with reversed roles than we see in the graphic novel. And here's why!

[ Warning: Spoilers for 6x01 due to con notes! If you want to go in without knowing anything, don't read this! ]

Paranoia, Nightmares, and Partnership

Back when season 4 aired, it was noted by many (myself included) that Callum and Rayla had taken on a fair few of each other's more arc 1 personality traits. Callum was more prone to paranoia and more closed off; Rayla was more open and wanting to talk about things. Callum asked her to kill him (because he's 'already dead') displaying more of her overt self sacrificial tendencies, and Rayla left the drake in the wood much the same way Callum (and Ezran) were willing to leave the dragon back in S2.

While we see a bit of a return to form in S5 — Callum is more optimistic, sunnier, and intensely supportive; Rayla is more secretive, unsure, and struggling with water — it doesn't erase their continuing parallels. Callum, much like Rayla leaving in TTM, goes to a dark place to try to protect her and then doesn't tell her about doing dark magic afterwards. They both agree on hunting down information about killing Aaravos. Rayla learns how to open up and ask for help more readily, which is something Callum was always quite willing to do ("Look, Rayla [...] I just think this cube thing might help me").

And it seems going into 6x01 that we're seeing the parallels come out even more blatantly with Callum's behaviour compared to Rayla's behaviour in TTM. The first episode indicates this in a few ways:

Rayla having nightmares about Viren and her family + Callum → Callum having nightmares about Aaravos using him

These nightmares inspire more fear and paranoia in each of them, while their partner tries to be supportive but ultimately isn't as worried

What they're worried about is something that shouldn't be a massive threat, given that Viren was 'dead' and Aaravos is trapped, and yet it persists anyway

Like in TTM, they're in close proximity, as it seems Rayla has permanently moved into Ezran's old bedroom connected to Callum's by a door, and she and Callum shared a room in TTM as well (at the Nexus and at the Castle)

Conversations about said worries do happen on beds, though

We do see some differences though. In TTM, Rayla never mentions her nightmares to Callum, or to anyone, whereas in 6x01, Callum runs right to Rayla to tell her even in the middle of the night and never tries to keep them a secret. While Rayla was scared of her family and Callum being trapped and immobilized by Viren, Callum is worried about accidentally freeing Aaravos.

That being said, the escalating fear and worry, as well as the more skeptical partner still offering heartfelt support, feels familiar to say the least.

Onto the next:

Rayla's parents

Through the Moon and S5 had some of the biggest focuses on Rayla's family and her grief regarding her parents. They also have their similarities. While Rayla deeply wants to know what happened to her parents in both TTM and 5x01, she ultimately puts it on the backburner. In TTM, she goes through the portal primarily to find Viren, just as she puts the world first in S5.

Now, there's a few valid reasons that Callum doesn't likewise prioritize Viren in TTM (for starters, Rayla hasn't told him about any of her nightmares in which he heavily features), so he assumes the main problem is about her parents. It is worth mentioning, though, that S5 likewise reaffirms this dynamic of Callum being the one to prioritize her family and her by extension even when Rayla is telling him not to.

C: Sorry, Rayla. I just... hate you seeing like this [in pain]. / You know I'm always here for you, right? / Together. That's the most important thing. Together.

While whether the Moon fam will get out in S6 is yet to be determined, and I could see it going either way (we may get an attempt, but that doesn't mean it'll be successful, for example), the chance of freeing them and the opportunity to try has never been more present. We already see what is likely Rayla reminding Callum of the current state of affairs, citing "The fate of the entire world is at stake" and that she may be more inclined to prioritize the Nova Blade, whereas he prioritizes the coins and diamonds.

Their last attempt, after all, to seek out her family 1) didn't yield the results either were hoping and 2) ended in disaster of going to "a dark place" but more on that later.

Illusions

This is more of a tiny thing, but Through the Moon is also the place where we see Rayla and Callum engage in illusions most directly together. Although this is always an undercurrent in S1 and S2 regarding whatever Rayla is holding close to her chest, Callum's plan and Rayla's ultimate approval of lying to Lujanne to rebuild the Nexus shows characteristics we see again in s5 with sneaking off to the Great Bookery.

TTM also has to do with illusions of course overtly in the text, with Rayla and Callum's whole "white lies are illusions you build to protect the hearts of those you love" thing that they inherit from Lujanne, and Rayla eventually uses in her justification to leave. This is the main time thus far that the 'heroes' have used illusions in a negative way, as deception ingrained magic (false Viren, hiding corruption, Aaravos' general mystery) is typically more negative, whereas the two illusion spells the main trio have used (the fake princes and Zym's dog form) were short lived and not consistent.

It does make me think about how Callum apparently makes an illusion for the pearl, though, to be kept in the castle's dungeon. It would make the most sense to me if this eventually gets worked around into real harm happening because someone (like Claudia) thought it was real and wanted it back.

I also think that while there's precedent in most of arc 1 for Callum learning the moon arcanum, which I've detailed elsewhere, TTM feels like one of the biggest switches in regards to how much he understands Rayla. If Callum does connect to the moon arcanum individually and in the show itself, I think S6 is the most likely, and it'd tie well into TTM; that was the last time he believed in any kind of illusion, and now he's understanding that even more full circle in S6, potentially.

Seeking out Information

With all this in mind, though, I think S6 may parallel TTM the most precisely because it's Rayla and Callum seeking out information, together, regarding 1) her family and 2) a threat to the whole world. While we almost saw this combination of events elsewhere — 3x08 gets close with Callum and her parents, and 5x04 gets close with the worldly threat and Callum seeking answers about her family — those ended up being more... happen stance-y.

I also feel like going to the Starscraper with the twofold intent — save her parents, stop the threat — is more adjacent to TTM because it's intentionally two folded there, too. The kids weren't trying to figure out the threat by finding more about her parents in 3x08, and they also weren't trying to find out more about her parents by going to the Bookery in 5x04.

That said, the following two sections are why I actually think S6 is going to wrap up the bulk of the Rayllum development from TTM beyond them just having their talk, and that's because of

The Underworld / The Ascent

In their quest for the information, Rayla (and Callum) go through the portal, and Callum (and Rayla) go to the Starscraper. We know thanks to the S6 teaser trailer that Callum is going to have a personalized trial of some sort with his wings and the blindfold; this could be similar in theory to Rayla having to face her fear with water in TTM, if Callum develops hesitance towards Star magic because of Aaravos... or just having to pass some kind of obstacle in order to get information they seek.

This may seem like the opposite, given that the portal is a very unambiguous Underworld. It's a mirrored reflection of our living world, and it's a literal descent into water. The Starscraper means literally going up to the heavens, and presumably no massive brushes with death. At least at first.

However, I think both places are going to pose similar problems, at least in a character-theme sense. For Rayla, going into the portal was a massive risk, with Lujanne citing, "If you pull her out now, she'll just be a mindless husk. We have to wait and hope that Rayla will be back by morning, before she's lost forever."

Since it's likely that Callum will either be 1) outright possessed at the Starscraper, or 2) whatever happens there will snowball into his possession, I think you can see where I'm going with this. Callum fears a similar loss of identity (which has also been set up, i.e. "I'm not a dark mage, I will never help you" + "I was his puppet" + "you completely lost yourself"). Aaravos' possession is like the most extreme version of the snake-bird soul transfer spell, Aaravos' soul inhabiting and hiding in Callum's body to make him do terrible things / things against his will, and Callum will be the person taking the fall for it. The fact that dark magic, and the possession subsequently, are symbolic of death only enhance these parallels further.

But at the same time, this comparison isn't all bad:

Rayllum and the Retrieval

Because they're going to get each other out.

Callum goes into the Nexus Portal — into death — to get Rayla out before she can die, and lose herself. He retrieves her. They have to work together in order to successfully reach the surface, Rayla grasping the moon phoenix feather as a tether to guide them the rest of the way.

Likewise, there's been seasons of buildup that Rayla is 1) tied to Callum's sense of identity, as he is to hers and 2) that she will ultimately save him from the possession.

This is reinforced by Elmer and Soren's assertion of compassion, names, breaking cycles, freedom, and identity: "I win, cause this hunk of wood obeys me no matter what! [...] I own you, I control you!" "That's not my name."

Callum, like Rayla, is going to meet his metaphorical death due to the search for knowledge (possibly even over her parents and a threat to the world yet again). Rayla, like Callum did for her, is going to be instrumental in getting him out, and reaffirming his identity — finding him, ensuring that he's not a lost, empty husk. Callum will likewise be helping her do so, perhaps even with another Moon (arcanum) tether, and they'll ultimately escape together.

Cause you know — Through the Moon and S6 are like poetry. They rhyme.

And what initially split them apart is now what's going to bring them fully back together. Chiastic structure my beloved.

[deans-queen]

But, Daddy I Love Him!! 🤍

NEW Series

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)

Summary: You and Dean have been dating for over 6 months now. Almost everyone knows except for one person - your father; because you know that he has never approved of Dean’s bad boy attitude. Once he finds out, he tries to keep you and Dean apart. Will your relationship last??

Inspired by the Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift *bold text includes song lyrics*

Warnings: SMUT, p in v (wrap it up kids), oral (female & male receiving), mature and sexual language. These are some of the themes through the story but I will label the warnings accordingly.

Chapter 1: Reader’s P.O.V

Chapter Warnings: light SMUT, mature and sexual language

I never thought I would be the one to be attracted to bad boys until I met Dean Winchester. Meeting him made my whole world change in the best way. I met him while on a hunt 6 months ago and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Most people know about our relationship, except one person - my Dad. He has always been very protective of me ever since my Mom died when I was little. My Dad is also part of the hunting business so he knows Sam, Dean and Bobby very well. My Dad loves Sam but unfortunately, he thinks that Dean is bad boy and not exactly the kind of person I should be spending my time with. Which is true…However, when I first met Dean I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. I thought he was cocky, arrogant, and big time player. But as time went on we developed feelings for each other then we became a couple.

I did my best to see Dean as much as possible. Even if it meant sneaking off when my Dad was away on hunts. I would lie and say I was spending time with Sam, but I was really with Dean.

I wanna tell my Dad about us but I know he will never accept it. He would rather me date someone like Sam but those guys aren’t my type… Dean is. Dean is so bad but he does it so well. So until then I guess my relationship is going to remain a secret. This could either be the best thing that happened to me or it can blow up in my face.

I was at the bunker sitting in the main table where we would see each other in the morning. I was supposed to be doing research on cases but I couldn’t stop thinking about my Dad and how he would react to dating “Bad Boy Winchester” as he would call him.

I rubbed my temples to prevent myself from getting a headache but I think it was too late.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Dean said as he walked in the room. He walked behind me and gave me a kiss on my temple.

I sighed, “Nothing, just thinking about stuff.”

Dean looked at me and raised an eyebrow

“You’re thinking about your Dad again aren’t you?”

I sighed deeply. “Yes I am.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him some time babe, before he finds out on his own.”

“I know…..I’m just scared of how he’s going to react. I know he’s not going to be happy…..and I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me sweetheart, no matter what your Dad thinks it’s your life, your decisions….you’re a grown woman, my woman.”

He said while winking at me.

I got up from the table, walked towards him and kissed him on the lips. He stood up to face towards me then grabbed my face to kiss me once more, deepening the kiss and our tongues colliding.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.” He said.

He took my hand then lead me back to his bedroom shutting the door softly.

We both sat down facing each other and began kissing again, his lips traveling down to my neck and collarbone.

“Dean please…..you’re gonna make me want you even more right now.”

“I want you too sweetheart.” he said looking at me and kissing me softly on the lips. He whispered in my ear and says, “I want you so bad so get on top of me now!”

I froze in excitement and said, “Yes, Dean.”

As he lays down, he starts to undress himself staring at me with his cold stone face and smirking. “Take it all off for me baby.” he says.

Immediately once I took off my clothes Dean was ready and hard to have sex. I was super nervous because it had been so long.

He grabbed me by the waist and started kissing all over my tits while slowly fingering me and teasing me. “Oh Dean..” I moaned.

“You’re so wet baby, you’re wet for me huh”? Dean said while sucking on my neck.

“Yes I am.” I said softly, “You have that effect on me.”

He continued to finger me but slowly inserted his dick inside of me.

“Mmmmmmm fuck!” we both moaned. We both made eye contact with one another as I was bouncing up and down moaning his name and pulling on his hair. It wasn’t even a minute and I was soaked, he was trying so hard not to cum right away so he told me to go slow, but i ended up going faster and faster as he started smirking and grabbing onto my ass he said “I’m going to cum, want to cum on your tits sweetheart.”

I quickly jumped off and put my tits right between his dick and waited for him to cum.

“Oh baby that was amazing. You’re so beautiful.” He said while I was blushing. Towards the end of the night Dean cleaned me up, slapped my ass and went back on doing his thing.

I know he’s crazy but he’s the one I want

Authors Note 🤍

Hope you enjoyed this story and new series! Shout out to my bestie for helping me with the smut as always ;) not all chapters will have smut, but there will be some spicy moments so BE PREPARED!!!

Feel free to let me know what you think!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories! Master list 📝

[bartychaser]

I might have done something... I'm not finished... this is only one scene of the fic I'm working on and it's an exclusive sneak peek bc it's not published

TW: vivid description of a wound with blood and bones- you get it

Words: a little more than 4,000

“What the- BARTY! Get away from here, run, just fucking run!”, Evan screams in complete terror. He himself stands still, shocked. Not a single muscle in his body moves. He wants to run, he really tries to get his body to move, but there he stands, frozen, looking at a full-grown lion.  

Evan, you must get away from here! Now! Just fucking move! He screams internally. Get. The fuck. Away. 

He still can’t move. Not even when the panic starts taking over the last bit of his body. Not when the lion starts slowly moving towards him, obviously in hunting-mode. He cannot move until he sees Barty, who followed Evans scream instead of doing what he was told – running away. 

“Evan! Do not. Move! Not yet! You will bloody run away when I tell you to, do you understand?! I’m responsible for you for as long as I am on my bloody shift and God help me when I will tear you apart if you try to get yourself killed by fucking moving now!” Barty seems calm, as if he had his shit together, he really does, but his voice and choice of words tell Evan the exact truth about Barty’s inside. He is in a state of panic that is far beyond terror.  

“O-Okay, Bee. I got you, but whatever you do, don’t get that beast to chase you!” Evan looks at Barty, as if he tries to calm him in some way. He knows what Barty’s plan is, but he will most definitely not let that happen! “And what else am I supposed to do?! In case you for-fucking-got, I don’t have a weapon to shoot that beast! Your bow you have left hat home, dickhead, so tell me what else should I do?!”, Barty shouts back.  

They look at each other, and for a moment it’s just them. They see only each other. They don’t have to talk to know what’s going on in the other’s head and heart, and Barty sees nothing but love. Evan often communicated that he loves Barty. He did that when he thought or hoped Barty wouldn’t hear him, but he always did. He did hear every single one of Evan’s ‘I love you’ s and ‘maybe one day you will love me back’s. And Barty just never got himself to say it back. To tell Evan he loves him too.  

Well, Crouch, now would be the perfect timing to tell him you lov- 

His inner voice couldn’t end that sentence when suddenly there was a roar. They both snapped out of their thoughts and Evan couldn't even take a breath before he was buried under that lion, screaming in pain as the beast dips its claws into his stomach. For a moment Barty was frozen. His head spinning, ears ringing, and his heart pounding heavily against his ribcage, It’s only a moment though. He looks around him, searching the grass for some sort of weapon. His sight becomes a blur, his hands are shaking, and he doesn’t know where he finds it but just as the screams stop, Barty holds in his trembling hands what looks like half a tree. He doesn’t spend much of a thought about what he is going to do with that, he just starts running towards Evan and slams that huge, heavy stick down onto the lions back, too scared to hurt Evan if he aims on that beast’s head and misses. The huge cat growls deeply once again as it lets go the man underneath her and bites Evan where shoulder and neck connect with each other. It looks back at Barty who still is trying to somehow make that beast leave by pocking it with the stick. He finally finds a spot to really hurt it, pocking there hard enough to think he might stab it with his stick. After what felt like hours, he manages to make it run away, deeper into the woods. But Barty is not relieved yet. He doesn’t let that feeling happens. Neither does the view; Evan is laying on his back, unconscious, bleeding – there is so much blood. Blood is everywhere and it makes Barty panic. He- They need help. He has to get help, but he doesn't know how! They aren't allowed weapons or phones in case some prisoner gets access to this. He has nothing to defend them or get help! He can’t just go and leave Evan to get help, but neither can he stay and not get help. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, bloody hell!”, Barty whispers, dropping on his knees next to Evan. “Shit, Evan come on, open those eyes. Stay awake. Don’t give in to the darkness, please!”, he begs. But Evan doesn’t magically open his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”, Barty whimpers as he scoops Evan’s lifeless body into his arms and starts running to where he thinks the exit is. He runs, runs as fast as he can. The thoughts make him wanna go even faster. 

If you keep that bloody pace, he will fucking die! Faster, Barty! Run bloody faster! 

Barty can feel Evan’s blood running down his arms, hot and sticky. It’s soaking his clothes; Evan’s clothes are already dripping. Barty tries, he really does try to be faster. He wants to be faster! He gives every last bit of strength there is left in his burning muscles. But he can’t push away the thought it might be too late already. 

You have waited too long! If you'd have had your pity feelings under control for fuck’s sake! No make up for it, live with the fact you bloody killed him! That is your fault, and yours only. Never forget that. It’s you who has his blood on their hands, Crouch! The voices shout. And they are right. Barty must admit, they are right. He was too slow. He is too slow. And now Evan has to pay for his indiscipline. 

Barty dares to look down to Evan for a second. He didn’t dare before, and he wishes he hadn’t looked when he sees the clump of flesh hanging from Evans right shoulder. He feels like throwing up, but he will not let this moment of weakness cost Evans life. Or maybe it's already too late. Barty can’t make out any signs of life. He cannot hear or feel Evan’s heart beating, he can’t see or feel Evan breathing, but he hopes he does. He hopes, and runs, and cries, and panics, and he does everything he can humanly possibly do to be at the exit faster.  

“Mister Crouch? What the- What happened?!”, the guy at the massive steel gate shouts as soon as Barty and Evan reach it. “No questions, Snape, open that fucking door and get the hospital staff here right now!”, Barty demands. His panic is obvious, he doesn’t even try to hide it and that may be one aspect that makes the gate keeper, Snape, to do what he is told immediately instead of arguing with the warder as he usually does. 

“Cell 8, send the hospital staff here immediately!”, the black-haired man breathes into his phone while pressing some buttons to open the gate. “No, I don’t know, but Rosier’s bleeding like a bloody slaughtered pig, so if they need more than five minutes to get here, we will need a fucking undertaker!”, he barked. Even Snape’s eyes couldn’t hide the panic he feels when looking at the young man in Barty’s arms.  

As soon as the gate was opening just the slightest bit, Barty heads through the slit into a hallway. At the other end of it, he could already see the nurses running towards them. He hears something like an “Oh bloody hell” and an “Are you sure he’s not already dead?!”. But his inside turns from afraid to absolutely horrified when some guy says “We don’t have enough blood bags! Not if he has B and even if he had A he would for sure need every single bag that is left.” Barty knows Evan’s blood type, it’s B. So he can only get blood of the types zero, B and AB and 0.  

“His type is B”, he peeped. “How do you-”, asks some nurse who’s name Barty doesn’t know. “That doesn’t quite matter at the moment, I believe! Get him to the hospital and find someone to donate him blood or something!”, the warder demanded as he lies Evan on the bed. It only takes seconds, five at max, for the sheets to be soaked in blood.  

They all inhale sharply at the sight of Evan’s shoulder; the wound is bad. Very bad. Beneath all the blood you can spot what looks like his bones. You could also just flap over the piece of flesh that wobbles loosely around at his shoulder to take a closer look at Evan’s shoulder joint. Or at least what is left of which.  

Barty believed even a surgeon couldn’t recognise what this puzzle of bone splinters is if he didn’t see the full picture.  

“What the hell happened in there?!”, whispers the man, who without a second thought starts pushing the bed towards the part of the gigantic building Barty knows work the surgeons. “Get the Blacks and their team into room 4, now!”, he demands only a moment after they start running. There is no second to waste with chatting or waiting; Evan is dying and Barty can’t do anything about it.  

As they are rushing to the only place Evan can now possibly get help one of the nurses, whose name Barty knows is Dorcas presses numbers on her mobile. “Doctor Black, get your brother and your team, room 4! One of the prisoners has a puzzle for you to complete in the next half an hour before he’s dead!”, she shouts breathlessly and doesn’t wait for an answer before she hangs up the. “Someone, open the door!”, another person says. Barty sprints towards the upcoming door and almost bangs it open for his boyfr- for Evan to be pushed through it after Dorcas who opens another door.  

“I’m sorry, Crouch, hospital staff only. Hygiene and stuff” Dorcas looks apologetically at the warder. “Oh come on! I’ll scrub my hands and change into hospital clothes but - fuck - let me see him!” Barty doesn’t even care about his reputation as the always restrained, calm elite warder with neither mercy nor sympathy for any of the prisoners but Evan isn’t just any other prisoner. And Barty couldn’t give less of a fuck about his reputation right now. All he wants is Evan, alive and healthy!  

“You can’t and you know that! I’m sorry but that’s the rules and I do not intend to break them!”, she scuffs. “Dorcas, please! I- I need to be with him!”, he tries again but Dorcas remains resistant to his begging. “No, Barty! But he’ll be fine, okay? The Blacks are the best of the best, everything will be alright”, says Dorcas as she puts her hands on Barty’s shoulders. “I know what they are capable of but that is bad! That is really bad, for fuck’s sake! He can’t go back in there, Dorcas!” Barty can’t hold it back anymore; the fear of losing Evan overwhelms the young man. “Hey, it’s going to be alright! Calm down, Barty, Regulus and Sirius got this, okay?” The woman lays her hands on his shoulders once again, trying to calm the hyperventilating mess of a warder down. He even reacts to her; he starts breathing controlled now. He is breathing himself away from a panic attack, but calm is not the word you can use for his mental state. 

“Okay now, do you can tell me what happened? Why can’t he go back to his cell?” Dorcas obviously tries to get Barty’s attention away from the fact that his boyfriend-? Lover? Best friend? Whatever they are - that Evan faces death at this very moment and Barty cannot help him. Well, it’s not the best topic to distract Barty, because he seems to relive every, brutal second of what happened to Evan, but he still tells Dorcas as much as he can recall. 

“I- I was just walking through the forest around his hut- doing the standard checking-thing in case they found something to escape with or anything that doesn’t belong in a cell and- and then- Evan just shouted I should get- get away and I- I didn’t because why would I- he is my prisoner and my responsibility-” And the love of your life “- so I just run to where the shout came from and there- there- fuck- there was this- this lion! There was a huge bloody lion and I- I didn't know what to do and I was so shocked, and I did nothing, and this lion just attacked Evan, and- and bit him, and would have torn him apart, but we don’t have guns or shit and it took too long for me to get some stick and I tried to punch it to go away and it- it did and Evan was awake, he screamed so- so loud and he was in so much pain- I'm so scared, Dorcas, I’m so scared” Dorcas thinks Barty didn’t breathe just once while telling her what happened so the last sentences were nothing more than a whisper.  

Never ever in the years she knows this man for by now has she seen him in such a bad mental condition. Not even when his father’s sister’s family, including herself were murdered brutally. Not even when his mother was diagnosed with the fibromyalgia syndrome. Not even when his uncle in law beat him up when he was only 13. Never.  

“What? How- There can’t be a lion! I mean- how?!”, the young woman asks in disbelief. “I don’t know, Dorcas, I really don’t. But it was there and-” Barty is interrupted by Snape. “Fuck, Crouch! Was- There is- There is a lion! I- I just closed the gate and- Fuck it’s huge!”, the black-haired man screams through the corridor. “Is that... what happened?”, he asks breathlessly. Barty can only nod, starring into nothing.  

“Who’s calling Dumbledore?”, says Snape after a moment of silence. Barty shrugs. “I can do that. He is my prisoner anyway”, sighs Barty, his careless mask sitting perfectly again. And as the steps he goes away turn into a steady pacing around the area in front of the door through which Evan disappeared what feels like hours to Barty, the young man waits for Dumbledore to pick up.  

“Dumbledore’s office, Minerva McGonagall, how can I help you?”, his personal assistant picks up after around ten tuuuts. “Hey, Maggie, here’s Barty. Is Dumbledore in his office? There was an incident with one of my prisoners”, he introduces the topic to the elderly lady. “He’s gonna be back in a few moments. That man’s talking to his Loverboy” The woman laughs quietly; it’s even getting Barty to smile a little. “Anything I can help you with, Barty?” He shakes his head, though she can’t see him and says: “No, that’s a Dumbledore problem I fear, but I can tell you either way as long as he’s busy” Minerva chuckles again. “Sure, what happened and who is the incident?” Barty takes a deep breath. “Number 8, Evan Rosier. He was attacked by a lion when we were- when he was out getting some firewood and stuff. There is a bloody lion wandering around in his cell and it almost killed him. He’s with the Blacks, in surgery, but he lost too much blood. We don’t seem to have enough blood bags for him”, Barty summarises the situation with a shaky voice. “A lion? Barty, are you kidding me because that’s not funny at all!”, the woman huffs in disbelieve. “I swear I tell you nothing but the truth, Maggie” Barty swallows. “His right shoulder is nothing but some sort of puzzle, the bone splattered into a hundred pieces and the blood loss makes it quite probable that he will die.”  

McGonagall stands up and rushes to the office door, phone still in her hand. Barty can hear something like “Albus, I don’t care what you two are doing but this is an emergency and I will come in now!” she opens the wooden door as Dumbledore says: “Let’s talk at home, Minerva yells something about an emergency through the door. Bye!” He lies his phone down and looks at Minerva with eyes practically the shape of question marks.  

“Crouch is at the phone; we have a problem in cell 8”, she introduces. “In or with?”, Dumbledore jokes. “Both, I guess” With that Minerva hands over the phone. “Barty, how can I possibly help you when you have a problem with your prisoner?”, he groans. “Because my prisoner was attacked by a lion in your cell in your prison and might die within the next few hours” Barty practically growls out those words. Dumbledore remains silent for a few moments, so Barty continues talking. “And I doubt that you want the world to know what happens behind the walls of your prison, obviously not taking your responsibilities seriously?” Dumbledore huffs. “Are you threatening me, Barty?”, he asks calmly, with a voice sharp as a sou chef’s knife. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare threatening you, Mister Dumbledore”, mocks the young warder. Dumbledore hums. “And you expect me to do what? If your prisoner has had an accident when you were responsible for his safety, I can’t help you” He speaks slowly, provoking Barty knowingly. “It is in fact not my responsibility to watch out for lions or any other kind of predator, because the only animals that are supposed to be in that cell are some fish, and some Bambis, and birds, and insects. It is also not my responsibility to arrange the apposition of blood bags, type B, to secure the prisoners’ lives if anything happens”, Barty states as calmly as Dumbledore. The old man sighs. Minerva on the other hand, despite the fact that this situation needs to be taken seriously, silently laughs about how Barty puts his Big Boss in his place.  

“Then go on and tell me how I could possibly help you there, boy”, says Dumbledore. Barty smiles to himself. “We need blood, type B. You need to get to know where that bloody lion came from and get rid of it. And maybe you’d also like to inform his sister, Pandora Lovegood, that her brother might not make it and give her the opportunity to- to say her goodbyes” Barty had to swallow in order to get the lump, that formed as he said the last sentence, out of his throat. “I think I can arrange your last two requests, but I do need to tell you that even for me it is not possible to get blood bags from the banks in time.” Dumbledore talks slowly. Too slow in Barty’s opinion. “Fuck, shit”, he breathes. “And if staff members have type B? Would it be possible to have them donating some of their blood?” Barty continues his pacing faster than before, waiting for an answer what feels like minutes but after only a few seconds Dumbledore answers: “I cannot force them to but I will let them all know that type B is needed and that those who are willing to donate may find themselves in the hospital wing immediately.” Barty lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, that has to be enough” He sighs, not bothering to thank Dumbledore before hanging up and walking back to Dorcas and Snape. Just as he arrives, he can hear Dumbledore’s voice echo through the building. “Because of a soon-to-be deadly incident, the prisoner of cell 8 needs blood transfer. Everyone who is willing to donate blood and knows is type B, please find yourself in room B578 in the hospital wing. Everyone who is willing to donate and does not know what blood type they have, please find yourself in room B577. Immediately!” Then the soundboxes give off a scratchy noise which end the announcement.  

“Barty, you are absolutely unbelievable” Dorcas smiles at him as she pets his shoulder and makes her way to the B-floor where the rooms B578 and B577 are. It makes Barty feel as grateful for having her as a friend as he never felt before. Snape nudges his shoulder. “Hey, I know we never got along, and don’t believe I’m doing this for you, but- I'll get up there too. You coming?”, asks the black-head. Barty huffs. “Don’t believe I’m thankful for you but thank you”, he says as the men walk up the stairs and towards the assigned rooms where, to Barty’s disbelief are already standing about ten of his colleagues.  

“Barty? But what was the incident then? I was afraid we’d lose our favourite coworker of all!”, some red-head calls. “Oh, if it’s just the prisoner...”, another woman mutters and is about to leave as Barty’s voice cuts through the air. “If you would have donated your blood for me then why not for someone who is worth to me to argue Dumbledore?!” His voice is gravelly and sharp enough to cut paper. “Because I’m not going to save a life that took so many other lives!”, the woman laughs humourlessly. Barty takes another step towards her. “Who guarantees you I never took a life before? Who guarantees you that I would be worth a life?”, he hissed. The woman swallows almost unnoticeably. “The fact that you are working here, standing right under Dumbledore”, she insisted. Barty lets out a laugh. It’s humourless, flat, and most definitely not real. “Do you really believe Dumbledore never killed anyone? Do you really believe he is the pure good? That’s hilarious!” It’s not. But he has the attention of everyone in reach of his voice now. “That man waged a war with his arch nemesis making children his soldiers, teenager his spies. That man killed more than Rosier ever could”, he growled before he walks to the room to get his blood type tested. He meets Dorcas on his way.  

She shakes his head. “I’m sorry”, she says. “What for? It’s not your fault”, he smiles at her weakly. Then he enters the room to get his blood tested himself; a nurse pokes a needle in his finger and lets Barty’s blood drip on fife different pieces of paper. She then adds blood from three different containers. He doesn’t know how the hell all of it works but after just two minutes that felt like hours he finally knows if he can save Evan’s life. If there is a life left to save. 

“Oh!”, the nurse exclaims. “You’re type 0, you can donate to everyone! And everyone can donate to you if you ever are in need of a donation”, she explains. Barty cannot quite believe it; he is in fact able to safe his love’s life. It leaves him shocked. He is paralysed. After the realisation hit him, he starts smiling. Wider than he ever smiled in his whole twenty years of living before. “He’ll live?”, he whimpers. The nurse smiles at him. “Hurry now, Darling, you have blood to donate” She pushes Barty a little bit to get him to move, to get him out of his paralysis. “He’ll live!”, he cheered. But before he could move a blood-soaked Sirius Black storms in. He still wears his mask and the once sterilised surgery kit. He is panting, which is quite understandable considering the fact that he had to speed up two levels to get here.  

“Blood! Now! We need blood!”, he screams. You can practically hear his heart pounding against his rips. “Type B or 0, please!”, he adds. His voice is shaking, his eyes are wide in terror. Dry sobs escape his lips as nobody moves. “Please, anyone!” His voice seems to echo through the walls. The nurse behind Barty is the first one to recover from the shock. “Mister Crouch has 0”, she breathes. Sirius sobs, hope returning to his eyes. He grabs Barty’s arm with his blood-covered hand and pulls him away, down the stairs in a speed that feels supernatural. The way to the surgery rooms will always be the longest for Barty.  

I'd love if you'd give me feedback, I don't know if it's catchy and angsty enough and stuff... I'm new to writing fics and I'm German so pleaaaase point out language mistakes!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

At what point do the boys take Sister Winchester to therapy?

Personally as a person who is not very consistent with their mental health and has been in therapy before, I am always amazed at all the traumas that Sam and Dean have to go through and seem to be fine.

How would Sam and Dean cope if their little sister had depression? Would Sam and Dean realize their sister's problem?

She stops eating, sleeps too much or doesn't sleep at all, many nightmares, she no longer enjoys anything, she is very irritable, it seems as if she can't even cry anymore, she just doesn't feel anything.

And something that happened to me (I don't know how it is for others) is that the months and days went by very quickly, suddenly the whole day passed in which I did nothing but sleep and exist haha, I feel like this is something that would happen to Sister Winchester, suddenly she realizes that she was locked in her room all day and only came out to go to the bathroom but she doesn't even care anymore she just locks herself back in

Would Cas notice? Can angels perceive mental or psychological illnesses, such as depression, anxiety, etc..? What event would cause Sister Winchester to break down and enter this depression? Would she realize on her own that it's wrong or would the Winchester brothers realize it? Who is the first person to tell Sister Winchester "you're not okay and you need help"?

It would take a lot to get the boys to bring her to therapy, because 1) they weren’t raised in the time/environment where that was normal, and 2) it’s not like she can tell the therapist about monsters.

I think the sister would be set off by Charlie’s death (because let’s be real, that’ll do it). But they can’t deal with it for a while because then there’s the whole moc/demon Dean thing. Sam would be so obsessed with finding a cure for the mark that he wouldn’t really notice, and Dean would be so far gone that he wouldn’t see/care. I think Sam would finally get it after Dean becomes a demon—ironically, him leaving makes it easier for Sam to spend some time with you and see what was going on.

He’d pause the hunt for demon Dean for as long as he could (not very long—he still needs to save his brother) in order to get you some help. At first, he just tries to talk to you and spend some time with you, but when he sees how bad it’s gotten he realizes he’s just not equipped to help you—you barely eat or sleep, you always have nightmares, and you barely talk anymore—so he takes you to a therapist.

You don’t go with Sam when he finds out where Dean is—demon Dean asks about that, but he doesn’t really care. He is surprised to learn that Sam put you in therapy, though.

“So she’s off the rails,” Dean scoffed, and Sam would be glad that he’d left you at home.

“She just needs some help, Dean. So do you.”

Cas would notice a little bit before Sam did (I don’t think angels can detect mental illness, I just think he’d have a little more presence of mind to think about something other than Dean). In fact, he’d be the one to suggest therapy.

“Can’t you just…” Sam doesn’t want to sound like a jerk, but he has to ask. “Can’t you heal her?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Cas sighed.

The little sister would know she’s not ok, but I think she’d be too busy beating herself up about it to think about a solution. She hates that this is happening to her while Dean is off being a demon. She wants nothing more than to help, but she just can’t seem to get up the energy to do it.

Sam would go to her, and he’d tell her over and over that it’s not her fault. He’d tell her he wants her to take a break for a while and go to therapy and get some rest—she would hate the idea, but he wouldn’t give her a choice.

Therapy wouldn’t fix her over night, but as the months go on, she slowly gets a better sleep pattern (but she still has nightmares) and she starts eating a bit more (but it doesn’t always work, and it’s always a struggle) so when the time comes to get Dean, that’s why Sam makes the decision to leave her behind—she’s not ready. She’s angry at him for it, but she relents anyway.

When Dean is back to his old self, he’s so worried and wants to know everything that happened to his sister while he was gone. She’s scared that he’ll think therapy is weird, but Dean supports her 100%. In fact, with him back, he’s able to help her a little more so she can get better. At least for a little while, before the mark starts to change him again.

[bloodurged]

a “that’s my wife!!” face if ever I’ve seen one.

[bitegore]

every so often i have to really wonder about the people who watch me talk about how badly i want someone to let me hurt them and fantasize about murdering imaginary characters i like and somehow assumes i'm a sub primarily and wants to be killed and chased and not, like, do the killing and chasing

[chrollohearttags]

aot boys + ovulation week (feat. armin, eren, ony, connie, jean and reiner)

exactly as it sounds, another one of my early morning thoughts getting the best of me..a little drabble, nothing more lmao! This is also filthy

content + themes: black coded reader, ovulation, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, squirting, masturbation, birth control, brief mentions of anal sex, spit play, fingering and some other thingsss

📝: this literally came to me out of nowhere. They are not fact or gospel, just my own opinion. But I could be wrong, feel free to change it how you please.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|

eren • the tease: the second he gets wind that you’re ovulating, it’s almost as if he takes the shit as a challenge. He doesn’t directly say anything but he notices the signs fairly quickly. The way you clench your thighs together when he’s around, flustering when he has no shirt on, etc. he finds it so cute in fact that he can’t help but to make your life harder. It’s not a matter of if you’ll cave to your urges but when and he definitely tries to speed up the process. Smirking once he realizes why you’re acting so strange. Walking around the house in gray sweatpants with no boxers, touching you even more so than he already does and is just incredibly flirtatious. Even grabbing your waist as he walks past you in the kitchen. “What’s wrong, princess? You look a lil’ tense, c’mere.” “I’m fine, Eren. I promise..” but he knows better than that when he catches you touching yourself because he happened to say something in passing earlier in the day that turned you on. (mind you: he called you a ‘good girl’ whilst the two of you were doing your morning workouts because you finished a set) but he doesn’t care..now that he sees you writhing around, spreading yourself open and stuffing those nimble little fingers in that dripping pussy, he’s glad to come help. “Look at you..so cute. I knew it.” And you’re in for it now because it doesn’t take long before he’s got you in his lap, back pressed to his chest with your legs spread completely apart as his larger digits are now thrashing around inside of you with a thumb on your clit and he’s whispering in your ear. Pinching your nipples and even kissing on your neck whilst he watches you turn into a drooling mess. “…You just needed me to come help you out. I’m right here..let daddy take care of you, baby..imma stretch that shit out. Use all them’ pretty holes..how’s that sound?”

armin • the sneak: he’s not dumb by a long shot! If anybody can sense when it’s that week for you, it’s him. The brainiac even has it down to a science..even if you don’t tell him, he can guess from the time you’re off your cycle till then. And once he does guess correctly, he’s on the hunt then and you’re his prey. He tries to use reverse psychology and all the other nonsense to lure you in. He clearly sees you’re trying to avoid him and not cave because he knows you’ll pounce like a wild animal the second you do. He’ll say things along the lines of: “it’s okay, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Or “..I just thought you looked so pretty today, that’s all. I couldn’t help myself but I understand. We can wait until you’re ready.” After an intense makeout session that stops right before things get too far gone. And while he’s playing his little innocent act, you're frothing between your thighs and praying that he rips your clothes off right then and there. He also gets a kick out of seeing you get aroused by the simplest things. For example, when he’s fixing something in the house and his veins protrude from his hands and you wish it was your throat he was squeezing. It doesn’t take two hours, less known a week for you to give in and all but beg him to fuck you! And he’s excited because this man all but dreams of getting you pregnant! “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart..all you have to do is ask.” Declaring as you find yourself on your knees, swallowing his dick whole (because he knows it gets you so wet) before he lightly cups your chin and fills your mouth with spit before rewarding you with a kiss. “Might even put a baby in you..you’ll look so fucking good.”

onyakopon • the pleasure dom: this man…this man right here. You might as well be prepared to block his damn number because he’ll have you ready to live in his skin when it’s all said and done. He knows you’ll try to evade him and act as if you’re just busy but he knows. He can tell you’re nervous around him or not wanting to make eye contact but he wants you to admit it. Tell him what it is that’s really on your mind. “What you acting so shy ‘round me for? Don’t be like that, ma. I’m your man. You can tell me anything.” As if he doesn’t already know you want him to use you as a fleshlight and make you come until you’re seeing stars. That much is apparent by the way you’re rubbing up on his chest, twirling his gold chain and biting the tip of your finger whilst you’re laying in bed. “What’s up with you, mama? Sum’ on your mind? Tell me what you want..” And it doesn’t take him long to deduce or figure things out when you start to move that hand lower towards his gym shorts. Naturally, he strives to give you exactly what you want so moments later, he’s between your thighs, allowing you to rub on his head; wrapped with a silk durag as he devours your pussy. Sucking and lapping on your clit…drinking in your juices. He knows you get wet but it’s not even a full ten minutes of him pleasuring you that you found yourself squirting into his mouth. Of course, there isn’t a single complaint from your man. He lives for it! “Lemme have that shit..c’mon, baby.” Adamant on the fact that he’s not coming up until he’s certain you’re satisfied. Fuck his own pleasure. And once he sets you atop his dick, bouncing you up and down, he’s focusing solely on you. On your orgasms, on the way your body reacts and especially how much you’re gushing down his shaft with those creamy juices. Squeezing him so tight as if you don’t want to let go. “Take that dick, baby..get your nut. That’s all I’m worried ‘bout right now. Get your fucking nut.”

connie • the freak: mr. constance shows no restraint as is but when you’re ovulating, it goes from bad to worse. Because he knows you won’t hold back either. So nothing is off limits! Every position, every kink, every type of nasty, salacious thing you can think of, he’s using this week as a means to let them all out. Your sex drive is super high so he’s matching your energy tenfold. “Imma fuck the shit out you, wait till I get home.” Vowing with conviction when you send him videos and texts throughout the day filled with freaky treats. The stuff you’re saying to one another is down right deplorable but you love every moment of it. He gets especially excited when you send him a small clip of you touching yourself and the web of arousal is twirled around your nails. You find yourselves engaging in every debaucherous activity possible from letting him bend you over the kitchen counter, legs spread open as he pounds you relentlessly..hands on your throat, hand roped between your thighs as it strokes your clit and you’re so sensitive, he loves it. He’s kissing on your neck, telling you how pretty you look. It’s bliss for the both of you. But then things intensity and Connie is NAWT playing. When you keep begging him for more, he doesn’t hesitate. He does everything he can to fulfill your filthy urges. Exploring every kink that you guys have wanted to try. Sucking toes, spitting in your mouth, fucking your throat..he’s using every hole you have. Even that one..he may even throw some liquor or weed into the mix and things really get fun. “Open that shit up, baby. That ass feels so fucking good. Love how nasty you get f’r me..” y’all literally never rest when that week rolls around!

jean • the bedroom bully: jean is a whole lover boy, no doubt..but he’s lowkey a bully in bed! Jean sort of likes it rough and he lovesss that you never shy away from telling him how you’re feeling…sometimes! When you’re ovulating, it depends on how you’re acting and how he’ll proceed. If he knows you’re in the mood and you’re being a bit more aggressive than usual, he’s with it. He’s loving that you’re tugging at his belt buckle, begging to suck him off.. “yeah, baby? That’s what you want? So what are you waiting for…suck this fucking dick.” Petting your head on the way down and trust, he’s not gentle about it. Even making you hold it in place.. “this is what you wanted, right? For me to treat you like a little slut? C’mon, baby..answer me.” Slapping your cheek in the process. If he’s feeling extra rude, he might deprive you. If you’re acting a little shy, he’s gonna find out what’s going on. He’s aware that you can’t control yourself and he doesn’t hold it against you (but he certainly exploits it!) When he sees you on your phone and acting a little secretive, he gets curious..only to find out you’ve been watching porn and he had a field day! “You’re really something else this week..” Pushing you against a wall, shoving his fingers into your panties and roughly grasping your chin as he forces you to keep eye contact. “What’s this? Can’t even wait for me, huh? That’s alright, I’ll take care of you.”

reiner • the breeder: good god, need I say more?! This man’s breeding kink stays on go as is but when ovulation week rolls around, you have to all but lock his ass out of the house because he’s going to be on you so bad and honestly, you want it. You want him just as desperately so you have to be the one to exercise caution because you know he won’t! You’re up against the kitchen counter or folding laundry and he’s all up on you..touching, kissing and licking on every inch of your skin, just not wanting to let go.. “Reiiii, baby..we can’t, not right now.” Whole time, you’re dripping between your thighs, your nipples are erect and you even find yourself whimpering and rutting yourself against him. “Really, sugar? Because the way you’re grinding on my dick says otherwise.” And it’s on from there, you cave! You cave bad..allowing him to bend you over right there, hoisting your skirt up and fucking you like an animal. You’re both so unhinged and primal; moving about the house in different positions, getting filled in each spot. He’s filled you with so much cum, he can barely even stay in it. You’re scratching at his back, faintly grasping him because you’re terribly overstimulated. “C’mon, darling. You can take one more f’r me. You’re gonna look so good when I fill you up..give you my baby.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

sometimes i long to eat you up ; ryōmen sukuna

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth; even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on.

little moments, precious moments, few and far between. that’s just how sukuna is; unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them. always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it; a hand on the small of your back guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table.

but, above all else — sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, soft and hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen. dyeing the open space in a golden glow, like something out of a summery daydream. 

as you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily. stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, and sukuna watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the coffee beans himself, grinding them into coffee grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be.

it gives him peace of mind. and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest.

but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still. his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch upwards. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly. he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue — but never once pushes you off.

all sukuna does is caress your arm, absentmindedly, where it rests around his midsection. still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron.

but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking. of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice. so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip — struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work, but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble. ”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

a soft silence washes over you, once more. just for a couple of blissful moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills, for a moment. only barely, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. 

ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out like a sleepy cat. ”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body.

”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have him to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a smile. he sounds cute when he gets riled up. ”aw. i like it, though...”

a moment passes.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unperturbed. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is; but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists, and shake your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something akin to pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content.

finally, the kitchen falls silent. only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears, until that dwindles out too. a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. 

he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more. absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. 

then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing a little on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the flowers by the windowsill. he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it, glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

maybe later.

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing at his waist affectionately. taking a sip of the bitter brew.

a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning. the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. 

only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, a bit, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would eventually forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind.

you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise. you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead.

a sigh slips from your lips. your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes.

”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all — but it is what it is.

if only you hadn’t forgotten it…

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth. tied neatly, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your silent stupor — unable to do anything but look at him. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the exterior. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap with a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you where you sit, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, just a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting. ”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment.

a smile sprouts on your lips. you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have.

”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. meeting his gaze. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him.

it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be.

(but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.)

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves. collected and confident, languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time. with an eager kind of giddiness, you begin to unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp.

the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri. they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds. you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun seeping in through the window behind you — it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads through your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue.

the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this, in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients and seasonings, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue.

the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty. there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again — but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes. his love.

god, you can’t wait to get home.

a soft, orange glow simmer in the kitchen, an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scent mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls. and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot, made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum. petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he took.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, but…” he raises it to his lips before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?”

a curt nod is all you get.

it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile; fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization — the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue. 

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice.

sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for the little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, leaving his homemade ice cream in the freezer for later. cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil.

there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease. and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. 

sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with. he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. 

he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever; but there’s no way you’d ever sit still for so long. 

so he carries you to bed. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad.

(it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe. but he brushes the thought away.) 

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again, that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping onto your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers. brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. 

he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. 

a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy — far more grueling than any of the bloodshed. 

(you chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life. one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. but you don’t need to know that, so he doesn’t say it. he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

”g’night, honey,” you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums; a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. 

”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous; a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate.

”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

he throws a glance over his shoulder, meeting your crinkled eyes. ”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding on what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, half an hour later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths the words into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure.

but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. 

because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. you can feel it in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

[ellecdc]

Hiiii! I have a request, poly!marauders x animagus!fem reader (you decide what type of animal) and everytime it’s full moon she turn into an animagus and watches hboyfriends (kinda lurks around secretly) as they take care of Remus. The thing is they don’t know that she’s an animagus, and what would their reaction be when they found out?

(You’re an amazing writer and your fics makes my day🫶🏻)

this was so sweet - thanks for your request and for your patience in me getting this to you!

please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.

poly!marauders x fem!reader who's a secret animagus

Prongs was very confused.

This was the third moon in a row that he, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Moony had been romping through the woods when Moony seemed to get caught up on something.

He wasn’t sure what had changed; they always followed the same routine: transform in the shack, let Moony out, follow their trail where they can run (and roll, in Moony & Padfoots case) down a large hill, chase each other along the river bank, drink from the edge of the Black Lake, and slowly make their way back to the shack for Moony’s transformation. 

Except, once again, they seemed to be caught up under this unassuming tree.

Prongs looked to his canine companion who offered what he could only assume as a doggy shoulder shrug as Moony yipped and stood on his hind legs in an attempt to see through the lowest bows of the tree.

The first time this happened, Moony almost took one of Padfoot’s legs off for trying to encourage him to leave the tree. 

The second time, Moony could only be convinced to leave as his bones actually started stretching and reorganising themselves as the transformation started.

What was even stranger, though? After both of those moons, Remus woke up in a panic asking where you were and if you were ‘okay’.

It took Sirius shifting back into Padfoot and laying across Remus’ chest in order to provide grounding pressure to his chest before they could get him to calm back down and convince him that you were safe.

James hated seeing this side of Remus; the side of him that none of them had seen since before the Marauders told him that they knew his secret. He felt horribly paranoid, reclusive, and entirely too guilty. 

Guilty for daring to love you even though he felt you deserved better. Guilty for allowing you to love a werewolf. Guilty for not telling you that you were in love with a werewolf. And guilty for lying to you about it every month.

Sirius and James hated the secrecy too - but it wasn’t their secret to tell. They loved you, but they couldn’t take away Remus’ autonomy when it came to his infliction.

But, tonight - the third moon in a row of this nonsense from Moony - and Prongs had had it.

Prongs bowed his head and scooped Wormtail up into his antlers, hoisting him up to the lowest branch of this damned tree Moony was fucking obsessed with and encouraged him to investigate. 

Moony let out a little whine and a huff as he sat and watched the little rat disappear through the bows of the grand pine. 

A squeak alerted the two animagi and one werewolf to trouble when the top branches began to move and out flew a large black crow with a rat trapped in its talons. 

The crow gently glided to the ground about ten feet away from the trio and let go of the rat who quickly ran up Prong’s leg and situated himself in the safety of his antlers. 

Padfoot - ever protective of his pack of misfit toys animals - began stalking toward the offending bird, sure that Moony was just as excited as he was about this impromptu hunt. It wasn’t their favourite - it was not a rabbit - but it would do. 

However, much to both Padfoot and Prongs’ surprise, Moony quickly leapt in front of the crow and grumbled warningly at Padfoot, going so far as to bare his teeth at his pack member. 

Padfoot tilted his head in confusion at Moony as if perhaps the situation would make more sense at a 45 degree angle, but it appeared that it made no difference when Pads ultimately huffed and turned back towards Prongs. 

Prongs wanted to laugh - but deer stags couldn’t do that - so he let out a ‘bleat’ as the crow flew above Padfoot and teasingly landed on his head.

Padfoot, ready for a fight, turned to nip at the bird who simply jumped back up and hovered just out of reach of the dog.

Prongs was suddenly even more confused.

What crow willingly releases a plump, likely juicy, rat from its talons instead of enjoying it as their meal? And what crow willingly teases a large werewolf sized dog in front of his werewolf friend? 

This one, apparently.

And Moony - usually very possessive and exclusionary when it came to the other creatures they came across in the Forbidden Forest - seemed not only accepting of this new addition, but really quite pleased with it. 

But it was time to go if Moony’s flinches and groaning was any indication; the transformation would happen soon. 

Padfoot moved towards Moony and affectionately nudged him with his shoulder, hoping to encourage him towards the Shrieking Shack. 

Moony seemed to understand that he ought to go, but couldn’t bring himself to leave without his newest friend.

Somehow - to Prongs’ absolute astonishment - the crow seemed to understand what the hold up was and flew over to situate itself on Prongs’ antler.

Prongs - far too tired after a night full of romping with a werewolf directly after a full day of classes - acquiesced to being a glorified chauffeur for his smaller friends and led the way to the shack. 

The crow sat quietly on the top of the old fireplace as the Marauders went about business as usual. 

Padfoot convinced Moony to curl up on the bed so he would wake up at least semi-comfortably, whilst Prongs used his antlers to encourage a blanket up around Moony so he wouldn’t wake up completely nude, and Peter ran back towards the castle to give the lovers some privacy. 

Once Moony returned fully to Remus, Prongs and Padfoot took a moment to shift back to their own human forms and started up on the healing process, completely forgetting about their interloper.

With a groan, Remus came to after James encouraged healing potion down his throat.

“I’m sorry, Moons.” He apologised in a whisper as he handed the empty vial to Sirius’ waiting hand.

“Where is she?” Remus croaked. 

“Where’s who, babe?” Sirius asked, sharing a concerned glance with James. 

Remus choked in his attempt to respond and both boys began shushing him. “Dovey.” He finally got out.

“She’s at the castle, Moons…she’s safe.” James placated.

“No.” Remus argued. “She was there.”

James turned to see if Sirius had any idea how to handle their boyfriend’s insanity when he spotted it behind Sirius.

The crow.

“You.” He whispered in awe, causing Sirius to whip his head around.

The crow hopped down from the mantle of the fireplace and landed gracefully on the floor before it spun and grew back into you.

“Dovey.” Remus groaned. James turned to see there were tears in Remus’ eyes, though he knew not what for. 

“Hiya Moons.” You answered shyly, shooting guilty glances at Sirius who was still staring at you in shock and to James who was looking frantically between you and Remus.

“It’s been you?” James asked incredulously.

“How long have you known?” Remus asked at the same time.

You smiled sadly at Remus and knelt down beside him. “Long enough to become an animagi?”

“You sneaky little witch.” Sirius finally let out with a breath, sitting down unceremoniously at the foot of the bed to look at you.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” You begged quickly; eyes darting nervously between your three boyfriends.

“You’re worried about us being mad?” Sirius asked disbelievingly. 

“Angel, you’ve caught us sneaking around and lying to you.” James teased with a certain level of sincerity, nudging you with his shoulder. 

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered, eyes still trained steadfast on you.

You looked at him like he had grown three heads.

“Remus, I love you. That’s why I’m here.” You pressed severely. 

Remus laughed out a sob and covered his face with his hands. 

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck were you thinking?” Sirius asked suddenly.

“What?” You responded warily.

“Casually inserting yourself into a werewolf pack! What would you have done if Moony hated you?” He barked, flinging a hand towards Remus’ general direction.

You scoffed derisively and shot Remus a look like ‘can you believe this guy?’ “I’m impossible not to love, Sirius. Do keep up.”

Your cheek earned you a scoff before Sirius was launching himself at you and the two of you fell to the floor, disturbing layers of dust and causing the particles to dance through the air. 

“You’re so lucky you're cute.” Sirius said in faux contempt as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses. 

James sighed in relief as he looked back over at Remus who was watching the two of you with a look so full of fondness, James was surprised he couldn’t see hearts pouring out of his eyes.

“You okay, Rem?” James asked him quietly, pulling one of his hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Perfect, Jamie. Just perfect.” Remus said with a content smile and a single happy tear trailing down his cheek.

James was more than inclined to agree.

[bigfatbimbo]

Can you do a Alastor x married reader? (No smut please just wholesome and gore shit)

omg i didn’t know if you wanted Alastor with a reader who’s already married to somebody else or if you want reader who’s married to Alastor.

Initially i thought it was the ladder so that’s what i wrote. If you wanted the first option you can drop another ask and i’ll write that too!

✧.* He goes absolutely crazy for your wedding anniversaries, like i’m not kidding. He would probably do really extreme borderline insane grand gestures

✧.* like say you like nirvana he would probably hunt down kurt kobain and steal his soul just so you get a free concert

✧.* that was a ridiculous example but the gestures are seriously that crazy 

✧.* His love language would probably be gift giving and acts of service. He’s the type to unexpectedly get you flowers or chocolates because he doesn’t really know how else to express his affection towards you.

✧.* On your wedding day, your first dance would probably start slow but then halfway through the song pick up the pace and have like an electro-swing type beat. 

✧.* I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t tell you about it either, just all of a sudden started spinning and dipping you. 

✧.* as you know, he is SUCH an attention whore and his jealousy gets even worse after you two get married. He wants your eyes on him at all times and throws a little tantrum anytime someone else has your attention.

✧.* Luckily you know him well enough to figure out when this happens. Maybe even call him out on it, that’ll get him going.

✧.* If you do end up saying something about his jealousy, especially if it’s in a teasing way, watch his grin tighten and his eyes widen before shaking his head slightly. Obviously trying to hide how much you just caught him off guard.

✧.* He’ll probably say something like “Oh, my dear, you know me far too well.”

✧.* Kisses aren’t as common as they are in other peoples relationships, not to say they don’t happen. Usually he’s the one to initiate it as he’s not that big of a fan of physical touch.

✧.* But he’ll wait until you two have a moment alone and lean down to kiss you.

✧.* Although if he is in a touchy mood, however rare that scenario might be, he will show you very discreetly. maybe you two are just lounging in bed and he’ll gradually scoot ever so slightly closer too you until your practically squeezed together.

✧.* Maybe you take the hint and start to hold his hand, or even rub his back. He wouldn’t say how much he liked it but maybe even let him lean on your shoulder.

✧.* Brother has mad parental issues and misses his mommy so he actually would love feeling taken care of like that.

✧.* More on his jealousy, he will ABSOLUTELY WITHOUT A DOUBT kill for you. Whether it’s someone who just had your attention for a little too long, or someone who just plain annoyed you, they’re a goner. OH, and it will not be fast. it will be drawn out and slow because this bitch is absolutely crazy.

✧.* He loves to dance so much that’s probably the most common form of physical touch between you two. 

✧.* Alastor also has a terrible habit of just talking AT you. Usually you humor him at listen even if it feels like he’s talking to himself more than you. Buddy just thinks the things he has to say or super important so you just nod your head and smile.

✧.* If you’re especially known for being Alastors wife then people will absolutely steer clear of you. Actually, a week into dating he probably already sent a message to people who even thought of messing with you. Yeah, it doesn’t happen often anymore.

✧.* He also likes it when you cook for him. It reminds him of his childhood and probably makes him happy. 

✧.* He will DEFINITELY join it and help you cook because my boy loves that quality time!

✧.* Maybe you and him happen to be disliking the same demon and decide to kill them together. Literally power couple shit right there, taking turns beating the shit out of some disrespectful bitch. 

✧.* Probably kissing whilst that’s happening too to be honest.

a/n: OMG IM NOT VERY PROUD OF THIS TBH!! I swear usually i’m better at writing but i literally just don’t like Alastor very much? I don’t know he just doesn’t do it for… well anyways bc of that it might be a little out of character.

[lovebugism]

King Steve being a dick to shy!reader until he found out she was the one who left a note in his locker and not nancy 🥰

he's less of a dick and more of a dumbass in this but i hope you like it :D — when steve thinks nancy's left a note in his locker, he starts pulling away from you (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish but mostly fluff, 0.8k)

You’re not surprised to find Steve in the old chemistry classroom, half-abandoned in the west wing of the school — the two of you often seek sanctuary there, away from the vultures of Hawkins High. No, what’s strange is the note he holds between his hands. And the way he tries to hide it when he sees you.

He shoves the paper into the back pocket of his jeans and rises from the desk he sits on. It screeches and slides slightly back in his fumbling state. He tries to hide his panic with a lopsided grin but wears all the alarm in his eyes.

“Hey, babe…” he wavers.

The door clicks shut behind you. Instead of greeting him with a kiss and a warm embrace, you cross your arms over your chest and cock your hip gently to the side. The softness he’s grown so used to has suddenly hardened. 

“What are you doing?” you wonder plainly.

He stammers. “Uh… Skipping calculus?”

“No, I mean, why are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding you?” Steve scoffs, forcing out a breathy laugh. He stumbles over himself with words and gestures wildly with his hands. “Why would I— I have no reason to— I’m not avoiding you, okay? That’s crazy.”

His deflecting isn’t reassuring. 

A weird, uncomfy feeling pangs in your chest.

“You’ve been acting weird for three days, Steve. I have to practically hunt you down to find you— and when I do, you act like you don’t even wanna talk to me.”

The pained look scrunching your features makes his stomach ache. He averts his gaze and shrugs. “That’s not true, you know that—”

“You won’t even look at me now,” you murmur, eyes glassy and stinging with distant tears. His gaze darts back up to meet yours again. You shrink inside yourself and shift your weight on your feet. “Do you… Do you wanna break up with me or something? Is that it?”

Steve’s face swirls with confusion, pained and panicked. “What? No!” he exclaims, voice ringing across the quiet lab. “Of course I don’t! Why would you— Why would you even say that?”

“Then what happened?” you agonize. “What’d I do?”

He rushes across the room and gathers your worrying form in his palms, fingers wide and warm on the outsides of your elbows. He ducks his head down so he’s more level with your tinier frame. His features furrow with anguish. “Nothing! You didn’t do anything, okay? I swear. It’s just this— It’s this stupid fucking note.”

Your brows pinch. “What?”

He drops his hand and reaches for the neglected paper in his pocket. The thing is folded four different times and slightly crumpled with how much he’s handled it. He waves it wildly in his hand. “Nancy left me this in my locker a couple days ago, and it just totally freaked me out, you know? I… I don’t know.”

He passes it off to you like he’s been dying to get rid of it.

You unfold the note. The sound of rumpling paper is much louder in the quiet. Steve watches you read it with a pained look on his face — doe eyes flitting across the familiar words and more familiar handwriting. 

Familiar ‘cause you wrote it.

It takes everything in you to bite back the smile pulling at your lips.

“Oh…” you hum instead.

“I didn’t meet her!” Steve blurts. “I swear, I just… I didn’t know how to tell you about it ‘cause I didn’t wanna upset you, you know? And I just kept freaking myself out, and I’m… I’m sorry.” The words catch in his closing throat. He swallows hard and takes a breath. “I don’t like Nancy anymore, okay? I like you. I love you.”

“So you didn’t… You didn’t meet her there?” you wonder aloud despite knowing the answer, waving the paper in your hand. Meet me in the bathroom, it reads, sloppier than your usual cursive because you wrote it against his locker.

“No!”

“Okay. I believe you,” you nod, smiling when he drops his chin to his chest and sighs in relief. “…Wanna know how I know?”

He glances up at you then, peeking at you beneath his lashes. His honey eyes sparkle in a silent answer.

“‘Cause I left you the note,” you confess, scrunching the bridge of your nose. “And I waited for you for half an hour.”

Steve gapes, equal parts confused and embarrassed. “…Oh.”

“Oh,” you parrot with a quiet laugh.

He stammers. “I’m— I— We just… Me and Nancy used to meet there all the time during free period. I guess I just… I thought that—”

“That she came crawling back?” you finish with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Because no one can resist King Steve?”

He meets your mischievous look with a shier smile. “It’s not that,” he mutters.

“I know,” you promise with a gentle sigh. “I’m just teasing.”

You lean further into him, both of you less anxious now than a minute or more ago. Your palms smooth over his chest while his arms curl around your back. “I feel like a total idiot,” he admits with a sheepish chuckle.

“‘Cause you are one,” you quip, sparkling with all the adoration you have for him. “And I love you.”

[anthurak]

Something I’ve always found rather curious about the Adventure Time fandom, specifically Bubbline shippers, is that nobody seems to talk about how the show slipped in what might be the most angsty, hardcore and emotionally raw Bubbline stories disguised as a wacky Rashomon-style recap in the episode Ketchup.

Like it’s pretty clear that Marceline is doing the whole ‘Lollipop Girl and Rockstar Girl’ puppet-show because she doesn’t want to traumatize BMO with what happened while they, Finn and Jake were gone, and also because she herself doesn’t want to revisit those memories directly.

But when we start reading between the lines and recognize that Marceline’s embellishments are really more to tone DOWN events, I think we get a very stark and raw depiction of what Marceline was doing when Patience set off Ooo’s elemental apocalypse.

Just to kick things off, how much does anyone want to bet that this joke translates to ‘Marceline and Bubblegum had a fight and Marcy was giving Bonnie some space… and because of that, Marceline wasn’t there to protect Bonnie when she was kidnapped by Patience.’?

Kinda adds another layer to Marcy’s whole ‘I was so afraid something bad would happen to you’ breakdown in Come Along With Me, doesn’t it?

Next we have ‘Rockstar Girl smacking off the potato-heads growing on her’ which pretty easily translates to; ‘while everyone else was getting overrun by the elements, Marceline was able to fight off the elemental contamination for possibly entire days while she tried to find a way to help Bubblegum’. And given what we see with Finn and Jake only able to resist the contamination for maybe a few hours at a time, and how willpower was one of the only things that could hold it off, that says a LOT about just how DESPERATE Marcy was to help Bonnie. I mean, you want a really hardcore and messed up image? Imagine if Marceline was actively cutting or RIPPING off the contaminated parts of herself to keep it from spreading and regrowing those parts with her vampiric regeneration?

Then we have ‘Rockstar Girl went after the Blue Tranch’, which I can only imagine translates to ‘Marceline going on a GOLB-DAMMNED WARPATH to hunt down Patience St. Pim’. And let’s remember that A. Patience was currently a super-charged Elemental and B. Marceline would still be fighting off elemental contamination herself, whether the Candification from Bubblegum, the Ice-ification from Patience, or even both.

I mean, when we think about it; ‘Rockstar Girl played some really loud music that the Blue Tranch didn’t like’ quite possibly translates to the most insane battle of the entire show. Like on one side we’ve got Patience St. Pim, seasoned Elemental who could already make Ice King look like an amateur, super-charged with elemental energy making her probably the most powerful Ice Elemental in thousands if not millions of years. And on the other side, we’ve got Marceline, consumed and possibly more than half-crazed with rage, fear and desperation to help Bonnie, going ALL-OUT with her numerous vampire powers, possibly some of her demonic powers, all while fighting off the encroaching elemental contamination.

And if ‘The Blue Tranch begged Rockstar Girl to stop and go away’ is anything to go by, I think we can assume that Marcy utterly WRECKED Patience’s SHIT. As in, Patience may well have ended this fight with an axe in her gut, a claw choking the life out her and Marceline threatening to devour her very SOUL if she didn’t tell her how to help Bonnie.

(Here’s another fun thought: Something that notably separates Patience from the other current elementals of Ooo is that whereas Princess Bubblegum, Flame Princess and Slime Princess are all physical manifestations OF their elements (Gum, Fire and Slime, respectively), while Patience is human. Yet when we see her during the arc, she seems to have lost her human body and assumed fully elemental form as well. Now we could of course assume that this is simply due to the elemental overcharge just like the others. Buuuuttt… what if Patience was FORCED to assume this new form because her human body could no longer SURVIVE after the utter THRASHING she received from Marceline?)

Finally, we of course have the end. Something which seems all too easy to imagine even with Marceline’s toning down of events:

Marcy rushing back to the Candy Kingdom as fast as she can. Even though she’s exhausted from her fight with Patience and the days spent fighting off the elemental contamination. To the point where now she can only barely hold it off and maintain her sanity. Perhaps she wonders if this is what it was like for Simon during their time together…

Even though she knows speeding back this fast is only draining her strength faster, but that doesn’t matter to her. Because what matters right now is the trinket, potion, or something or other clutched in her hand that Patience gave her. Something that Marcy can’t be sure will even work. But she hopes it will. That’s the only thing keeping her going, the only thing holding her together at this point.

A blind, desperate HOPE that this will save Bonnie…

When she finally returns to what was once the Candy Kingdom, Marceline finds the massive tower of gum. Perhaps like Finn and Jake later on, Marceline at first isn’t sure what she’s looking at and thinks Bonnie is at the top. So she flies right to the top in a burst of speed that drains her already dwindling strength even further.

And there Marcy finds Bonnie. Or rather, what Bonnie has BECOME. Perhaps she doesn’t even remember Marcy.

Perhaps for Marcy, this is like losing Simon all over again. Except instead of the father who raised and cared for her over ten years, it’s a woman that Marcy has loved for the better part of a millennium. A woman she was only just able to start loving again after so long. But now, just like Simon… she’s gone.

And this realization does what all the elemental power of Ooo could not.

It breaks Marceline.

Just like that, Marceline doesn’t even try to use the ‘antidote’ Patience gave her. Instead, perhaps Marcy gives Bonnie one last kiss and just… accepts the madness.

Because now, at least they can be together.