#finally.... the evil has been defeated once and for all

[luckhound]

like a carnivorous flower.

↻ pairing ✦ elias/reader

↻ summary ✦ You are approached by Elias in the Institute’s break room, after the confrontation in his office. It does not go well.

↻ word count ✦ 3.9k

↻ tags ✦ gender neutral reader, elias being elias, toxic dynamic, mind games galore

note: can you tell i got to #106 and felt a certain way about it? after reading all 3k words of this, probably. the sloppiest of kisses to sierra for her suggestions and encouragement + liya for keeping me sane while i agonized over this fic.

“Damn, look at the time. I should go, my break’s nearly over,” Hannah informs you, waving as she heads out. “See you! Don’t be a stranger!”

You wave back anemically, hoping your expression resembles more of a grin than a grimace. With the last straggler gone, you are finally alone in the break room of the Magnus Institute, London. The pressure that had settled over you dissipates.

You had never been a social butterfly to begin with, but neither had you been a total recluse. Yet nowadays, you vastly prefer solitude over interacting with the Institute staff. Their gripes and concerns are so far removed from your own that it’s almost grating. You have to stop yourself from scowling the entire time you’re around them.

You feel a little guilty for being such a curmudgeon, but they’re so... chipper. Oblivious.

Ignorant.

Like you once were.

Sighing, you shuffle deeper into the kitchenette and swing open a cabinet. Now that you’re on your own, you want to finish what you came here for and leave. Before you have to make more small talk with your colleagues.

The kettle whistles all of a sudden, piercing the quiet of the break room. Though you’d anticipated it, you still flinch. Your fingers squeeze tighter around the handle of a ceramic mug; you force them to relax, loosen one digit at a time.

With your free hand, you reach over and take the kettle off the stove. It stops screeching almost immediately. You should feel relief, but the abrupt absence of sound puts you further on edge. Given recent developments, you’re more aware than ever of how heavy silence can be.

Though the Magnus Institute hosts over a hundred people a day, from staff to researchers to visitors, the same cannot be said of the Archives, nestled like a secret—or grave—underground, beneath layers of concrete. Only the Head Archivist and his archival assistants, with the occasional statement giver, stalk those corridors.

You had not minded the seclusion. In the past, it could be quiet in the Archives, but you seldom felt isolated or uncomfortable. Sure, Jon sequestered himself in his office for much of the work day; your fellow archival assistants, however, tended to be nearby, thanks to the open office floor plan. If you needed advice or wanted to chat, you merely had to crane your neck. It would even irritate you, sometimes, how often Tim would pipe up with a comment when at his desk.

Now you’d gladly welcome his familiar chatter in your ear.

An oppressive silence has fallen over the Archives. That had been the case for some time, but now there is a sense of hopelessness to it. A sense of despair.

It’s rare for the archival staff to be at their desks. Most prefer going out for drinks or conducting personal research elsewhere. You on the other hand have elected to bury yourself in work. Though you spend time with the assistants now and then, you can’t stay away from the Archives for long.

It feels strange to shirk your responsibilities. Even now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, pushing the offending thoughts far into the dark recesses of your mind. You don’t want to contemplate your new normal. You’ve done enough of that in the last few months, over stacks of case files or in the middle of the night, when sleep eluded you.

At this moment in time, you just want to brew some tea.

You set the mug in your hand on the counter. Then you grab another from the cabinet. Martin was in the basement, last you checked; he had been preparing to record a statement. He’d appreciate a hot drink once he’s done.

As you go through the motions of making tea, you try to empty your mind. Focus on adding the teabags to the mugs, then pouring in boiling water. The sharp, earthy fragrance of chamomile wafts up soon after. The taut line of your shoulders loosens.

You fix your cup the way you like it, then begin to do the same for Martin. Milk and one sugar. Makes the chamomile too sweet, you think, but he prefers it that way.

You stiffen when the unmistakable sound of footsteps on linoleum reaches your ears. Oh, great. Time to field yet another coworker’s questions and comments. Irked, you go to peer over your shoulder at the interloper.

Only to freeze in your tracks when a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Ah, so you’re here. On your lunch break, I take it?”

It takes a minute for your limbs to thaw. Gaze trained on the mug in front of you, you mechanically stir in the sugar with a teaspoon. “Yeah.”

He hums. “I assume Tim, Basira, and Melanie are out.”

“Probably.”

“Martin is still in the Archives, isn’t he? I wanted to have a word with him about the, ah, recent changes around here.”

You clench your jaw. Stir the spoon for longer than necessary. “I’ll let him know.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. I’ll head down with you. He is nearly finished recording the statement.”

The certainty in his voice, the knowing in it, makes your skin erupt in goosebumps.

The spoon clangs against the side of the mug. You toss it in the sink, resolving to wash it later, despite the cheery note from management taped to the fridge reminding staff to clean and put away any dirty dishes. Someone might spot it before you can, but you could care less.

Grab the tea, keep your head down, get out. That’s what your mind is more preoccupied with. If you walk a little faster than normal, you might be able to lose him in the winding corridors of the Institute. He can make his way to the basement on his own.

You pick up the mugs, square your shoulders, and turn around.

Your plan falls apart quickly. You have taken all of two strides before you realize that your escape route is blocked. At some point during your plotting, he must have moved closer, with you being none the wiser.

Instinctively, your head lifts. Your startled eyes meet cool grey.

Elias looks the same as ever. He’s dressed in a tweed three-piece suit, an emerald green tie knotted at his throat. His black hair, greying at the temples, is perfectly coiffed save for an errant lock that falls over his forehead. The corners of his lips are raised, his features soft. As if he’s actually pleased to see you.

Once, not long ago, you would’ve smiled at him. Greeted him warmly. Asked him to join you if he had the time. You would’ve offered to make him a cup of tea. You know exactly how he likes it: black with no sugar.

You do none of those things. You flinch and stumble backwards.

Then you recall, much too late, that you’re holding cups of hot liquid in both of your hands.

The pain is instant. There is no time to brace yourself. Thankfully, only the tea from Martin’s mug scalds your palm; yours managed not to spill over. Still, you hiss out a pained breath, wincing.

As you struggle to maintain a tight grip on the drinks, Elias sighs. “Really,” he says. “There was no need to overreact so severely.” The mild reprimand in his tone would have made you bristle had you not been distracted.

Then he reaches out a long-fingered hand and wraps it around your own, over the ceramic handle. You restrain the impulse to rip your hand out of his gentle grip. Instead, you let him take the mug from you. He sets it aside before taking the other one as well. It joins its twin on the counter.

When you don’t move or say anything, he looks down at your injury. “You should run that under some cold water. It’ll only get worse.”

You curl your fingers into a fist. Do your best to ignore the throbbing pain. “It’s fine. I... I need to get back to work. My break must be over by now.” You’re not sure if it is, to be honest, but your priority has not changed. You want to be as far away from him as possible.

To your dismay, Elias doesn’t step aside. Your back is to the counter, and he stands between you and the sole exit.

These past few weeks, he would never linger long in your company. When you made an excuse, he’d dismiss you immediately. Nothing like how it used to be, when you’d hang back in his office or he’d loiter near your desk, chatting about whatever came to mind. Stolen little moments that you tried to make last for as long as you could.

He must have realized—with or without his powers of omniscience—that you were avoiding him.

This is the first time he has stopped you from beating a hasty retreat. You feel a sense of foreboding, like a cold finger running down your spine.

Elias folds his arms behind his back, his stance widening. Each movement precise and economical. “I have been giving you space to come to terms with the situation. I understand that you’re upset. You think I deceived you.”

His words are so baffling that you can’t bite back a scoff in time. “I don’t think, I know. You’ve been lying to all of us—for years.”

“That’s not what I was referring to.”

“This whole time, you’ve been keeping the truth from us. About the Institute, the paranormal, everything. What more is there to be pissed off about?”

You have difficulty discerning what Elias is feeling or thinking at any given moment. It used to perplex you. Captivate you. You’d spend countless minutes puzzling out what a particular word or glance had meant, only to come to no proper conclusion.

That penchant for observation, coupled with your current proximity, may be why you’re able to catch the subtle reaction. One of his eyebrows twitches, the lines around his mouth tightening before smoothing out. From irritation, possibly. But at what?

“You know,” he begins, his tone as sedate as ever, “I find your dedication to your work commendable. I’ve felt that way from the start. But you have been especially diligent as of late.”

“Learning you could literally die if you try to quit your job can do that.”

“Mm, no. I don’t believe that’s the reason.” His head tilts in a birdlike motion, his gaze intent on yours. You want to look away but you know it won’t help. You can’t hide from him. You’re starting to realize you never could. “You tend to use your duties and responsibilities as a shield against anything you find unpleasant. A way to avoid your parents’ inquiries into your life, your friends’ attempts to force you out of your shell, your own anxieties over how dull and threadbare you have become.”

You cross your arms over your chest, fighting hard not to react outwardly. “Is there a point to this, or do you just enjoy listening to yourself talk?”

“Of course,” he continues as if you hadn’t spoken, “no one has bothered with that for some time. Still, you find comfort in steady work. In routine. Though that has been tested since the day Jane Prentiss disturbed the peace, hasn’t it? Learning more about this place hasn’t helped matters either. You wonder if you should continue as you always have, or if you should follow Tim’s lead. Perhaps doing what the Institute wants, what I want, is wrong.” His lips spread into a small smile. “But you do so loathe to disappoint an authority figure.”

You become deathly still. “That’s not what this is about.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Elias agrees, to your surprise. “Though I must admit, when you were hired as an archival assistant, that’s what I thought it was. Surely the reason you went out of your way to speak with me, fetch me drinks, learn what I liked was because you wanted to ingratiate yourself with your employer. That’s how you saw it too. Then Tim and Sasha”—don’t bring her up, you want to snarl, leave her out of this, but your breath is caught in your throat—“teased you over it, called it a crush, and you knew it was different. And so did I.”

He takes a measured step closer. “It all came to a head at the annual Christmas party last year. You had a little too much to drink—to make conversations more bearable, especially after the Prentiss attack—and when we happened to find ourselves under the mistletoe, it was like fate... Except you couldn’t bring yourself to close the distance, and I didn’t make a move, so you convinced yourself it was a bad idea. A momentary lapse in judgement. Better to pretend it never happened.”

Another step. There are mere inches of space left between the two of you. “Then Tim insisted there was something strange about the Institute, something I must know about. You refused to entertain the idea. Though privately, you wondered.” His eyes remind you of smoke before a fire: the first sign of danger. “Which brings us to recent events. You were as shocked as the others when Jon reappeared out of nowhere, after being suspected of murder, and confronted me. When I finally revealed my hand. But that’s not all, is it?”

You shake your head, your arms dropping to your sides. “That’s enough, Elias.”

“You felt betrayed. I must have lied to you, encouraged your affections, for some nefarious purpose. Worse, you couldn’t unburden yourself to anyone. What would they think if they learned that you once held such tender feelings for me?”

“I mean it,” you say, voice low and warning. Your hands ball into fists, your injured palm twinging in protest, but it’s a distant feeling. “Stop.”

His gaze flays you. Cuts through flesh and sinew to your bone-white center. “Yet underneath all of that, what upsets you most is that you feel like a fool. You prize yourself on your intelligence, your diligence, your meticulousness. The very idea that someone may have been able to manipulate your thoughts and emotions... It infuriates you. Frightens—”

It happens so fast that not even your mind can keep up. One second, you’re standing across from Elias in the kitchenette of the break room. The next, you have him pinned against the opposite counter, your hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket.

You’re not sure what you meant to accomplish with this act of aggression. To make him stop talking. To see him lose his composure. To throw him off-balance for a change.

Except you’re the only one who seems affected. You’re panting for breath like you’ve run a marathon, the fists you’ve made around his lapels unable to disguise the trembling of your hands. Meanwhile Elias smiles at you, completely unruffled, looking almost indulgent. Like an adult allowing a child to throw a temper tantrum, content to wait until they’ve tired themselves out.

Is there anything you can do that he won’t already see coming?

“So you knew,” you say hoarsely. “That this entire time, I...” Your mouth is unable to form the words. “Which means you were going along with it. What I don’t get is what the point was.”

Elias sighs, the force of it causing his waistcoat to brush against your dress shirt. “You still have no idea, do you.”

You don’t like the sound of that. “Have no idea about what.”

“I have a finite amount of free time on my hands. Extremely finite. The reason I entertained your affections is simple.” He waits a beat, no doubt savouring the suspense, then says, “I wanted to.”

You blink at him, uncomprehending. He says nothing more.

“You wanted to.”

“Yes.”

You don’t ask what he means; you have a feeling you already know. The issue is that it makes no sense whatsoever.

You shake your head. “That’s not true. You never... But I thought...”

Elias adopts a puzzled mien. “Did you wish for me to announce my feelings? That would hardly be very appropriate. I am the Head of this Institute—your employer—for one. Not to mention that once you learned of my plans, it’s highly unlikely you would be receptive to pursuing a relationship. As does appear to be the case.”

He says all of it in such a calm manner. So matter-of-factly. As if he had considered the state of affairs between you and come to a conclusion about it long before.

His response should clear up your confusion, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it. Not completely, anyway. Suspicion continues to tug at you.

For years, he has kept secrets and misled everyone, for reasons you are not entirely privy to. Could this be another attempt at deception?

You had wondered whether he felt anything stronger for you than a boss does for their employee. Sometimes you got the inkling that he did. But when you had nearly kissed him at the Christmas party, he hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t smiled, or closed his eyes, or leaned in. He’d just stared. Watched as you had shifted nearer, before you lost your nerve and backed off.

Because it wasn’t appropriate. Or so he says.

Are you supposed to believe him without question? After everything he’s done?

You wish you had a way to check, to be certain.

An idea, half-formed, occurs to you.

You don’t let yourself consider it. You’re unsure how his power works, but you get the feeling that if you mull it over for too long, he may learn what you’re planning. So you move, pure instinct guiding you.

You shift closer to Elias, until your chest is pressed flush against his, and rest your injured hand on his cheek.

He hadn’t been moving much to begin with, but you feel him go unnaturally still at the sudden contact. The bone of his jaw tenses under your palm. His eyes widen a touch in what seems to be genuine surprise. For once, you don’t shy away from his gaze; you stare back.

You study him carefully, waiting for a twitch of the shoulders or twist in his features that will give him away. Prove his words false.

That doesn’t happen.

Instead, you watch as his pupils dilate. Black threatens to swallow grey whole. You don’t think you have ever seen his eyes look so charged, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. All of that intensity, that emotion, remains fixed on you.

Neither of you move.

For a few heartbeats, all that you can hear is the sound of breathing. Yours and his.

Then slowly, deliberately, Elias leans into your touch.

“Well?” he asks, his voice a deep murmur. “Are your concerns assuaged?”

His facial hair is thick and neatly groomed, but his cheeks are clean-shaven. The skin there is smooth against your palm, and warm. It might have even felt nice, had you not burned yourself just moments ago.

The contact aggravates your inflamed skin, but that’s fine. Preferred, even. It shouldn’t be pleasant.

You swallow against a dry throat. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, I doubt the sincerity of my affections provides any comfort to you,” he answers. “But it is the truth. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

The question elicits a scowl from you.

“Not even close.”

Elias barely bats an eyelash when confronted with your ire. “As... riveting as this has been,” he says in a drawl, “we will be joined by other Institute staff within the next minute. I doubt you’d want your colleagues to walk in and see this.”

You furrow your brow at him, confused. His gaze falls to look meaningfully at something between the two of you. You follow it.

You still have him pinned against the counter, your front moulded to his and a knee parting his legs. Your hand is clutching his lapel, while your other cups his cheek, thumb resting just below the mole under his right eye. One of the buttons on his waistcoat has been digging uncomfortably into your stomach this entire time.

You had been so caught up in your thoughts, your emotions, that you hadn’t considered what this could look like to an outsider.

Should someone stumble upon you two right this second, their first impression wouldn’t be that you were physically accosting your boss over his duplicity. They would think that you were up to something far different.

Unconsciously, your attention is drawn to Elias’s mouth. His bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top. You wish you could say that you’d never realized it before, but it would be a lie. You have fantasized about how those lips would feel against yours more times than you can count.

During the Christmas party, you had almost found out.

You’re jolted out of your musings by Elias releasing a breath. You snap your head up, meeting his eyes once more. There’s a gleam in them that you can’t decipher.

“I see,” he says. Two words that you have come to dread hearing from him.

Your stomach drops.

“I was certain that your infatuation would end the moment you learned the truth about me. It appears I was wrong.”

You let go of him as if he, not the tea, had burned you. “What? No.”

He arches his brows. “No?” he parrots, a mocking edge in his tone. “Just now, you were considering—”

“Stay out of my head.” You only realize that you’ve been backing away when your hip meets the counter behind you.

He chuckles. “Rest assured, I didn’t use my abilities to deduce your intentions. It was practically written all over your face, my dear.”

You’re frozen. Caught off-guard by both his insinuation and the term of endearment. You want nothing more than to deny his absurd accusation. Of course you aren’t attracted to him, not after everything he has said and done. But something holds you back.

Perhaps the dawning horror that it might not sound very convincing.

You stare wordlessly, helplessly, as Elias adjusts his cuffs, then straightens his tweed jacket and fastens one of the buttons. Just in time for a small group of Institute staff to enter the break room, spot the two of you, and greet you cheerfully.

You somehow manage to muster a smile and return the greeting, before turning to the mugs of tea on the counter. They must be cold by now. It doesn’t matter. You’re no longer in the mood to drink anything. You empty them in the sink, then start to clean them.

Behind you, Elias exchanges pleasantries with his employees. He sounds like his usual self, the polite but distant Head of the Magnus Institute.

(Not like how he would speak with you. You had privately thought that his gaze was more keen, his tone warmer. Enough for you to notice, but be left wondering. Uncertain if you were seeing what was there or what you wanted.)

(When will you stop reminiscing about the past?)

You stiffen when you hear your name, spoken by that too-familiar voice. Though you don’t want to, you glance over your shoulder.

Elias lingers in the doorway of the break room. He smiles, a baring of teeth. “I enjoyed our discussion today. It was very enlightening. Let’s continue it another time.” He knocks twice on the doorframe, a parting sound.

Then he’s gone, and you’re left with the mess you made.

[peaches2217]

Just to be safe i would consider blocking that crazy person.

Fun fact: I DID block them. Numerous times. Anon blocking can easily be bypassed with a VPN, though.

But the good news! I figured out who might be sending the hateful anons, referenced her by name (didn’t tag her or anything, just used her online nickname)… and she blocked me the same day. I already had her blocked, but some snooping from my girlfriend showed that she’s been stalking my page anyway. My gf was sending me receipts, and all of a sudden the offender’s account just… disappeared. Accessing it on another account proved the blog is still there, so that means I was blocked.

So I’m 98% sure the trash has taken itself out, and thank God for it!!

[robertpattersonsleftcoochieflap]

Genshin Impact headcanons

BIG TITTIE COMMITTEE

Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Childe & Wriothsley

Contents: Big tiddie men react to you (their partner) shoving your face in their tiddies.

Warnings: men tiddies, suggestive content, slight nsfw, fluff

Itto

"Hey, babe- What are you doing?" Itto laughed in surprise at your sudden affection. You feel his hard chest rumble as he laughs, making you nuzzle your face between his pecks. Both of your hands reach up and grope his muscular pecks, lightly squeezing them.

"Woah there! Getting handsy are we? Two can play at that game, baby." Itto reached down and grabbed you by the waist with two large, strong hands and easily hoisted you up so your own chest was level with his face.

"Hey! I was enjoying myself there!" You whined at him, giggling lightly at his fluffy white hair tickling you as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. He stopped and looked up at you with a smirk.

"Don't worry, I got something else for you to enjoy."

.

.

.

Did I mention that he has nipple piercings?

Kaeya

You were truly at your wits end with Kaeya. All day you'd been watching him strut in and out of your office, delivering you paperwork in his usual outfit. Only throughout the day, you had noticed something strange. Every time you saw him, his undershirt seemingly became lower and lower. He'd also made sure to bend over your desk every time he passed you your work, giving you full view down his shirt.

You'd finally had enough by the end of the day. It was late and everyone in the knights of Favonious' headquarters had gone home -- besides the usual knights that guarded the front entrance, yourself and of course Kaeya. You had just finished signing your final piece of paperwork when your blue-haired partner slinked through your door.

"Finished yet?" You looked at him, immediately taking note of his teasing smirk.

"Not yet." You paused, your eyes dropping down to his semi-bare chest, "There's still something I need to do." You look back up into his eye. You motioned him over with a single finger. Once he stood before you, you grip him by his ridiculously slender waist and pull him into your lap, finally burrowing your face into his firm-but-ample chest.

"My, my~ It seems somebody has been struggling today." Kaeya mused, his arms hugging your shoulders. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you all day. You groan into the valley between his pecks.

"Kaeya, you're truly evil." He laughed at your defeated tone.

"I know." With that, he pulls you up into a kiss.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was perched in his usual reading corner when you arrived home from class. He greeted you and continued his reading. You had a very long and tiresome day at the academia that day. It seemed like nothing you did was right and it made you want to crawl into a hole and cry. You needed your boyfriend.

Alhaitham looks up at you as you approach him. "Can I touch you?" You ask, knowing sometimes your boyfriend gets a little overstimulated after a long day at the academia.

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he sets his book down and moves himself into a more comfortable position to accommodate you. "Of course." You immediately fall onto his lap and bury your head into his chest, his pecks making for a good pillow to rest your head and his heartbeat calming your soul. You close your eyes and just listen, enjoying the calm ambience.

"Has something happened today?" He asks. You shake your head and mumble, "Jus' needed you." You look up from his chest and see a light blush dusting his ears and face. His strong arms tighten around your body and he gently kisses your forehead.

No more words were exchanged for a while after that. You both just enjoyed the quiet ambience of each others company...

.

.

.

That was until Kaveh came home after his class and complained both your ears off about a project he was assigned.

(Autistic Alhaitham is real.)

Childe

Despite your husband being a fearsome harbinger of the fatui, he was gentle with you. Even during your episodes of play fighting. Ajax laughed loudly as you attempt to tackle him to your shared bed. He'd just made it back home from his business trip to Liyue and you were eager to get your hands on your ginger partner.

You had missed him dearly, but you also understood that his work was extremely important and he even had to complete quests asked of him by the beloved Tsaritsa herself. "I swear I'm going to lock you up so you cannot leave me again." You wrapped your arms and legs around his sturdy body, nuzzling your face into his neck and taking in his familiar scent.

Ajax chuckled and hugged you tighter. "Alright." He sat you both down on the bed where you finally pulled away to take in his appearance. You raised an eyebrow.

"A harness, Ajax? This is what the fatui have you wearing?" You tugged on his chest harness, enjoying the way his body came forward with it. "Yes, they do. Got a problem with that?" He asked, amused by the question.

"Perhaps I really should lock you away." Your hands ran over his chest, admiring the way it looked with the harness tightened around it. You flatten your hand in the middle of his chest and shove him down, leaning over to look him in the eye. "Can't have anyone else seeing you this."

The ginger raised an eyebrow and smirked, watching as you stared at his chest with a glazed look in your eyes. That's when you begin unbuttoning his shirt, making sure to leave the harness on. Once his shirt is unbuttoned, that is when you strike.

You waste no time shoving your face into his pecs, gripping them with both your hands and squeezing them together. Ajax laughs, his hands rub up and down your waist, as you continue your assault. That's when you bite. His whole body twitches and he lets out a yelp. "H-hey!" This does not deter you though. You've been without this man for weeks and you're determined to get your fill of him. You nip, suck and bite across his chest, leaving marks in your path. By the end of it, your husband was thoroughly ruffled, his face sporting a deep blush and his chest and neck covered in marks left by you. You sat up and smirked in satisfaction with your work. You meet his half lidded eyes.

"Take off your clothes.... Leave the harness on though."

.

.

.

You'd truly never seen this man move faster.

Wriothesley

You had been pissing Wriothesley off all day. You'd made it your objective today to see how long it would take him to crack before he punished you -- And you were doing a hell of a good job of it.

The Duke was at his wits end with you. You'd purposely been flaunting around his office all day in your skimpiest clothes and talking back to him. Making sexual innuendos at every possible opportunity and even going as far as to flirt with guards in front of him. It was an hour away from lights out and he was almost done with his paperwork when you sauntered out of your shared bedroom, and back into his office. He immediately gritted his teeth. You were in nothing but one of his dress shirts.

You were thoroughly enjoying the reactions you so easily drew out of your husband. It was immensely entertaining to you. Especially since there was little to do in the Fortress of Meropide. I mean, what did he expect locking you down here?

You sauntered your way over to him, taking no notice of the work he was doing and drape yourself across his lap. He let out a deep growl of your name. You only smirk up at him in response and play with the tie around his neck, tugging on it.

"What's wrong with you today?" He grumbled out, his tone frustrated.

"Bored," You say nonchalantly. "And I want attention." You run your finger down his chest, picking at the dip in his dress shirt. Wriothesley let out a groan. "So you've distracted me all day? Because you wanted attention?"

You grinned up at him, "Yep." You said, popping the P. He let out a sigh and shook his head at your ridiculousness. "Well, I have a few more things to do. Do not distract me." You didn't reply.

The Duke continued to do his work, ignoring you completely. You pouted. Then an idea bloomed in your head and your gaze dropped down to the muscular chest before you.

Wriothesley let out a yelp. You were too busy groping him to notice. You had your face shoved between his tits, rubbing your face in the grey chest hair between them, your hands slipped into his shirt, squeezing and pulling at his pierced nipples.

"Okay, that's it." He gripped the back of your collar and pulled you out of his cleavage like a scolded kitten.

"Hey! I was busy-" You were cut off by him throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and storming off with you to your shared bedroom.

.

.

.

It was going to be a long night for you.

[dokidokitsuna]

GameSwap!AU #2

Thank @earthykinous for this idea; I saw it in the tags of the first GameSwap and immediately knew I had to give it a try ^^

-Taranza seems like a very ‘devoted’ character, the kind who very easily latches on to personal influences…so as part of the HWC, I think he would be just as involved with the Mother Computer as Haltmann, maybe even more so, just to be able to share something with him. Just in general, he’d be agonized about his father not recognizing him anymore, and desperate to prove his worth despite it, trying to replace familial love with company loyalty in a VERY toxic-positive way. ^^ And besides, if he uses that control helmet often enough, maybe he’ll lose all his painful memories too… And in this scenario…maybe the reason Haltmann dies is because he sacrifices himself to Star Dream to save Taranza somehow, finally recognizing his son when he realizes he’s about to lose him again. OR, maybe he just feels like Taranza is too important to lose without knowing why, leaving only Taranza to bear the true emotional weight of that sacrifice.

-I think Susie is a more mature character than Taranza– despite her sad backstory, she seems to handle her situation well during the game, and doesn’t even seem that affected by Haltmann’s death post-game. If it’s not maturity, at the very least it’s a much lower level of emotional attachment.

So how would she go about dealing with her crush mutating into a tyrannical insect queen? I think she would actually just lose respect for her, and end up turning on her.

Despite staying by her side and aiding in her conquest, she would secretly be plotting her downfall: praising and obeying Sectonia to her face, while trying to undermine her in the background…keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say. Rather than mistakenly capturing the wrong ‘Hero of the Lower World’, Susie would’ve picked Dedede on purpose, knowing that Kirby was the ‘real’ hero who would come to save him AND defeat Sectonia. She’d then pretend to oppose him throughout the game, throwing challenging bosses his way to prepare him to face the Queen…and finally, she’d reveal her true motivations once Dedede has been freed.

But maybe, just to bring back the stakes and drama…maybe Sectonia overhears this reveal, and enters the scene. Through the ensuing argument, we could learn a bit about how Sectonia became evil in the actual game, and have Susie basically call her out, admitting to her treachery and daring her Queen to do something about it. To throw away the last shred of their former friendship, once and for all.

Which Sectonia does, of course, and from there the rest of the game could proceed like normal. Only, I think Susie’s characterization as a tough-yet-caring friend and a twist-hero would make her return with the Miracle Fruit a lot more satisfying. Rather than failing to see how evil Sectonia had become until it personally affected her, she knew exactly how far-gone she was, and put her life on the line to try and wake Sectonia up.  And despite losing that gamble, despite witnessing her friend choose to become a monster in more ways than one, she survived and came back to help us end the battle. ^^ I think that would be really heartwarming~

[byuntrash101]

the better friend

f!reader x san x mingi ft ateez smut | mdni 7.3k a good friend lets a friend watch but a better friend lets him join nsfw tags under the cut

idol!au, dom bf!san, switch simp!mingi (rengoku hair mingi because im weak for him), a teeny tiny bit of plot, san is an evil genius in this, biting, marking, exhibitionism/voyeurism (mingi peeping at reader and san), sensory deprivation (blindfold), suspicion of dubcon but it's cleared out, masturbation (m), oral (m), fingering (f), threesome with sangi, unprotected sex (don't do that kids), praises and degradation (good girl, darling, princess... but also slut, whore, etc), lots of begging, so. much. teasing, kitty slaps <33333 (san is the kitty slapper™), finger sucking (f & m), ruined orgasm (f), dumbification (reader and mingi are fucked stupid), sloppy seconds, cum play (lots of cum), multiple orgasms (f & m), overstimulation (m), facial (f), a bit of spit kink, squirting, lowkey wholesome ending (we love to see it)

this a sequel to the good friend but it can be read as a stand alone. you just have to know san and reader have been dating for a long time and mingi has been simping for reader for almost as long.

a/n: i really went all in tbh. i dont know what happened but like. this fic is filthy and I LOVE IT. also consider this our collective manifestation prayer circle to achieve barricade tickets for the upcoming tour <3

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Usually you wouldn’t watch the concert from the crowd. San said it would be too distracting to see you in the pit of faces along with the cheering crowd of entranced fans. Moreover, he could perform any song for you whenever you wanted, you simply had to ask. But you always argued it wasn’t the same looking from backstage because the angle was all wrong and the sound wasn’t as clear. And for the private concerts, they didn’t have the sparkly outfits and San didn’t have the same drive, the same aura he had on stage.

“Even with the best will in the world I can't cheer as loud and stroke your ego as good as a crowd of tens of thousands of Atinys chanting your name in unisson.” 

San only sighed. All those points were indeed valid. And he had to admit defeat.

“Just this once, ok?” and you practically jumped in his arms and kissed him all over his pretty face which traded the deep creases between his straight brows and the pout for an amused smile on his lips. “But you gotta promise me to blend in” he said sternly, momentarily getting out of the array of kisses to make sure he got his point across. You nodded firmly.

“Don’t worry too much about it Sannie~”  you said before hugging him again. 

“Yeah…” he said and you felt his cheek lifting against yours once more. An idea blossomed within him.

***

The concert was insane. You were so glad you had finally convinced your performer boyfriend. Being there in the crowd felt so much different from backstage. There you could cheer and enjoy the show in a way that was so much more intense and raw. You screamed and chanted and sang. You did everything. Yeosang even waved at you and you waved back. But it all felt and looked like a normal fan to idol interaction. So you were doing a pretty good job at keeping your promise to your boyfriend.

Speaking of the devil, that man captivated you. His aura on stage was unparalleled. His moves were sharp, his eyes focussed, his voice powerful and stable. He was incredibly professional. 

He perfectly conveyed every emotion of each act so perfectly. His delivery carried out sorrow and depth throughout the emotional songs and his moves inspired power and aplomb during the upbeat and energetic ones.

The fact that he still manages to surprise you every time with his talent and drive is incredible in itself. You were there every step of the way of his journey. You met a kid with a dream and now you stood in front of a man with passion. 

And what a man he was. You couldn’t get enough of him, enough of the way he moved so effortlessly on stage, enough of the way his presence filled the venue entirely. You couldn't take your eyes off him. The way the tight black sleeveless top hugged his frame, how his broad shoulders moved and accompanied every beat, how the sweat rolled off his temples and neck to get soaked by the black fabric, how his prominent muscles flexed and relaxed, the way the light bounced off his glossy bronzed skin. 

He was born to be on this stage of that you were convinced without the shadow of a doubt. 

But curiously when you weren’t eyeing your boyfriend like candy you found your eyes weirdly gravitating toward another member… Mingi. Well, no it wasn’t that weird, after all Mingi was your friend, a very good friend. Yeah it was only normal that you wanted to witness him in his element too. 

A friend cheering for a friend. 

Everything was perfectly normal. Everything? Even the thrill you felt when he delivered powerful and incisive rap verses with that low voice that was his signature? Even the tingle you felt in your guts when you saw him perfectly execute the body waves? Even the heat rushing to your chest and face when you saw the way his flexible hips rolled and thrusted? Even the unquenchable thirst you felt when you noticed the way his lips rounded up around the water bottle as he threw his head back and swallowed in big gulps, droplets of sweat running down the column of his throat and dripping at the soaked ends of the bright orange and red hair? Yes! Normal! Everything. Just normal…

But what was it, that you felt your eyes locked with his and you noticed he was also watching you. A fleeting second that seemed to last for a lifetime, hung in between the tensed and humid air. A second that silenced the crowd around you. And as quick as your eyes met his, the contact was broken. 

San once again smirked.

And the show went on.

***

When the show ended you waited a little for the venue to empty. Some people were still hanging around chatting excitedly about the fresh core memories they had made or taking selfies to ensure the memories stayed vivid for a long time. But you managed to sneak behind the barricades unnoticed. 

You found the members exchanging and laughing at some minor unnoticed mistakes that happened that you didn’t even catch.

“Y/n-ah!!” Wooyoung was the first one to notice you. And he wrapped his arms around your nape lovingly. “How was the show? Did you like it? Who was the most handsome back there? Was it me? Don’t say San or I will get mad! It was me, wasn’t it?”

You only laughed returning his warm embrace.

“You’re lucky Mingi isn’t here when you get this handsy with y/n” Yunho remarked, crossing his arms on his chest. You and Yeosang were the only ones that appeared remotely confused by the statement. 

“You mean San?” Yeosang asked, in an attempt to clear out the confusion but Yunho only shook his head.

“San doesn’t mind it as much.” Yunho added.

“Mingi is the one that only tolerates San being all touchy touchy with y/n” Seonghwa said, as he was removing his mic pack from his back pocket. 

You were still very much perplexed but when you went back to look at Yeosang he was just nodding knowingly in approbation. You decided to not pay more attention to the strange exchange because you only wanted to congratulate San.

“Speaking of my wonderful boyfriend. Any idea where he’s hiding?” 

Hongjoong shrugged as he looked around. 

“San and Mingi already went back to the dressing rooms, I think” Jongho said. 

“Thanks big baby” you said, ruffling his hair and fleeing instantly while you heard him complain about it in the distance. 

Once you reached the hall of individual dressing rooms you rushed to San’s door ready to barge in before you heard a muffled conversation coming from the other side. You couldn’t make much of what was being said but you recognized the voices without a doubt. You decided to knock before letting yourself in carefully.

“Oh! y/n, baby” San rushed to you as soon as you entered while Mingi stood there and gave you a silent nod and an awkward half smile (the signature business smile as Yunho liked to call it). You returned the smile, perfectly mirroring Mingi’s awkwardness. “So how was the show?” San continued paying no mind to Mingi anymore, solely focussing on you.

“I’m gonna get going” Mingi said, somewhat hurriedly before walking past you and heading towards the door. Before closing it he exchanged a knowing glance with San who returned it with a nod, you tried to decipher the unreadable expression on your boyfriend’s face but to no avail. And your tall fire haired friend disappeared promptly behind the door. Something felt strange about the whole ordeal but you couldn't pinpoint it. 

But after the tension you felt looking at Mingi during the concert you didn’t have it in you to bring it up, to bring him up. You wanted to focus on your boyfriend. That was the best thing to do… for everyone.

“So~ baby ~. Did you enjoy yourself?” San asked and he snaked his strong arm around your waist, his skin still had a light sheen of sweat about it.

“You were incredible!!” you said enthusiastically, trying your best to get rid of the outlandish feeling and the lingering guilt.

“Was I, huh? Really?” he said, curious to hear more. You knew how much San liked to be praised so you went on.

“You’re the performer of the century! Your voice was so good like baby your mic was ON!” San nestled his face in the crook of your neck.

“Go on” he said as he was planting soft kisses on your skin. His hands were now roaming your body sliding up your arms and down your spine to the small of your back and up again. He was really enjoying the praises, so much so that the atmosphere shifted again to feel a little heavier, a subtle change that you picked up on right away. After dating San for so long you knew him all too well to not know what the soft touches and gentle kisses on your neck meant. So you matched his energy. What better way to chase away Mingi’s memory than to let your boyfriend fuck you stupid until you could only remember his name and the way his cock felt inside you?

“Yes. You looked so focussed and you looked so good.'' Another kiss and another, slower, lingering, warm. “I couldn't take my eyes off you” you felt him smirk against your skin. That was a lie. He knew that but somehow that lighted a fire in him. And he threw a look to the ajar door of the dressing room.

“Fuck you smell so good baby” San huffed pushing his hardening cock onto your hip and you bit your lip to repress a moan. “It was so hard not to look at you while you were down in the pit” He breathed against your skin. “I wanted to make you step on that stage and take you right there.” He pushed his cock with more intent onto you. “I wanted everyone to see you. I wanted everyone to know what a good little slut you can be for me” This time the kiss had more teeth, you felt him bite onto your neck. “Can you imagine? All those eyes on you?” 

This mere vision had you moaning and throwing your head back. In a flash your brain played it like a movie for you: you, sprawled out onto the stage, being a good girl for your boyfriend. Your face flushed and your folds glistening with need. While he pushed into you under the roars of the crowd. Under their gaze. Under his gaze. Mingi looking at you being fucked full of cock and cum. Mingi looking at you… The thought sent a wave of arousal through your guts and you felt your panties becoming uncomfortably wet.

“Fuck” San complained in a short breath, his rumbling voice bringing you back. “I want you so fucking bad” the urgency that laced his low voice made the carnal confession that much more real. The sexual tension was almost palpable.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you said teasingly, pressing your thigh up his groin and you felt him melt into the skin of your neck with a small gasp. You smirked, satisfied.

“Fuck baby you’re so so bad” he teased and extended his hand to the clothing rack of gaudy and studded stage outfits that was next to you. “I want us to play today” his fingers interlaced with a silk scarf that you believed belonged to one of Yunho’s fits from a previous stage. “What about a little sensory deprivation play? What do you say baby?” He asked, holding the makeshift blindfold. 

You thought of it for a second. Any other time you would have jumped on the occasion but now… your goal was precisely to look at San to forget… well everything else. There’s really no telling what your imagination will run to if your eyes aren’t able to only take in the figure of your boyfriend. And that scared you a little bit. San sensed it right away.

“You know you can trust me right?” you knew that much of course you could trust him. But could you trust yourself?  

“I know what you like, baby don’t worry. Let’s try something new, okay?”

“Okay” you finally exhaled.

***

Mingi didn’t know what he was still doing there. Hunched over and peeping through the small gap of the door like a creep. He should go, he should have gone a long time ago. That was just a crazy idea. What kind of friend just agrees when he’s asked to watch his friend and his girlfriend (who also happened to be his crush) fuck? He should have declined and left but no. He said yes. And he didn’t even think twice, didn't even question it. He just blurted yes like a pathetic simp that’s been waiting for the occasion forever. (That was true unfortunately but Mingi wasn’t ready to admit that to himself). Now San probably thought he was a weird fucking pervert. A fucking freak. But he wasn't…right? Right! Yeah, of course he wasn’t! So he should leave… He should leave like now. But he couldn't.

He couldn’t when he saw your face change as San buried his face into your neck. He loved the way your eyes changed when he saw San roll his hips against yours. The whole aura about you changed, your gaze darkened but also your voice. It became lower, more sultry. He couldn’t make out what you two were saying but he didn’t have to because the non verbal language was more than enough to understand the simple primal interaction that was happening between you two. 

You were about to fuck…

When San grabbed Yunho’s silk scarf and held it to you. Mingi felt your hesitation but then an instant later San was carefully tying the silk ribbon at the back of your head. Not too tight just enough to keep you from seeing anything. And just like that in a second it was dark.

Mingi watched his friend guiding you to the vanity and you giggled playfully as his large hands snaked to your thighs and grabbed your ass to hoist you up the furniture, pushing the makeup products in the process, one lipstick rolling off the surface and on the ground. Neither of you both even realized and Mingi couldn’t care less especially now that San’s hand left your hip to turn around and signal Mingi to enter back into the room. 

His heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. Was he really about to do that? Yeah of course he was. Because his body was moving on its own, feeling the irrepressible pull, the inexplicable magnetism he felt for you from that very first day in Gang-nam. 

San’s hand moved to his lips to signal his tall friend not to make any noise. And as if he was floating Mingi found himself holding his breath and standing to your side ogling you hungrily as San focussed back on you. His hand leaving his lips to ride your skirt up your hips and revealing the black lace panties.

“Did you know we were going to do that?” your boyfriend asked and you didn’t need to see to know about the shit eating grin on his face. “Is it why you wore such easy-access clothes?”

You gasped and bit your lip. You couldn't see but you could feel. San’s warm hands on your thigh rose goosebumps on your skin. The heightened sensations made more arousal pool in your panties.

“Answer me, baby” San said, low voice taking on a commanding tone before suddenly pulling on your blouse, popping open every single one of your snap buttons and just like that your black lace bra was also on display.

And Mingi thought he was going to explode. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he had to clench his fist so hard and only the dull pain in his palms kept him from gasping at the breathtaking view. How fucking beautiful could you be? 

San grabbed a fist full of your breasts kneading them roughly through your undergarment to urge an answer out of you 

“Yes!” you hurriedly replied. Arching your back into his touch. “I wore this skirt and blouse because I know how much you like to rip them off” 

“Good girl”

You heard your boyfriend hum in satisfaction and what you didn't hear was Mingi biting down on his lip so hard he could have drawn blood. But he couldn’t do otherwise when San’s fingers hooked themselves on the waist band of the lace and dragged the article of clothing along your thighs until it hung loosely on one of your ankles.

“Show me everything” San said in a breath, harshly tugging on your bra as your breasts jumped out and spilled to each side of your chest.

Mingi repressed a strangled gasp in the back of his throat as his dripping cock strained against the tight concert attire. 

“I said everything baby” San said and you knew exactly what he meant. Slowly you spread your legs to let the vanity light shine right onto your heat as everything remained dark on your part. 

Mingi felt like his brain was going to give out as your body was revealed. Your perfect breasts and hardened nipples and of course your dripping core. Long strings of slick linked your hole to the skin of your inner thighs. Mingi felt dizzy at the sight.

“Good girl” San praised again. “You always get wet so easily don't you?” he chuckled while you fought the urge to touch yourself. “Good little slut” he praised again, his hands dipping between your thighs and aiming right away for your clit. 

You pushed your hips onto his touch and moaned as he circled your bundle of nerves exactly how you liked it. 

“Fuck Sannie” you whined. “More please” 

“Want your cute little cunt finger fucked?” San cooed with his honey toned voice. And you nodded enthusiastically. But that only earned you a sharp slap on your exposed center. The wet clap resounded in the empty room. It seemed amplified for you. You moaned loudly at the stinging feeling, the delicious and unexpected pain made your legs tense up and shake slightly.

“You’re wearing a blindfold, not a gagball, princess. Use your words” San said sternly landing another slap on your swollen clit before gently circling it again.

“Y-yess!! Yes!!! P-please. Want your fingers inside” you replied in a strangle moaned, your hips uncontrollably following San’s every move.

Mingi’s jaw dropped to the floor he never knew you’d enjoyed such things, he never knew you’d enjoy the harsh tone of voice and the pain but there was no doubt you were actually loving every single second of this. Mingi was certain of it when he saw the way your cunt reacted to each little slap, the way you quivered, the way you rolled your hips into San’s hand, the pleasured moans that cascaded from your lips. Mingi couldn't take it anymore and without even realizing it he found himself palming his hard and leaking cock through his pants. 

“Good girl” San praised right before pushing two fingers inside your tight heat, curling them right into your sweet spot. You felt your concerns melt right away as you felt the two digits permeate you. The familiar feeling of the ring on his index made your mind go blank at the pleasure you felt radiating from your very core.

“F-fuck.. Sa-annie…” you breathed out with difficulty.

“Shhh. That’s it baby. I got you” San cooed, laying his other hand on your thigh, stroking it lightly. “You’re so good baby. You take my fingers so well”

The praises were setting your mind and body on fire, and you were giving in to the brazier. You moaned louder as San was pumping in and out of your cunt more rapidly, dragging out the wet squelching sounds that bounced off the walls and came back to your ears.

And Mingi’s too. He was completely entranced by the way your cunt was sucking in San’s fingers. You were so eager for them, your pussy clenching and throbbing around them every time he pulled out and welcoming them back when he pushed back in creating more thick and clear slick to gush out of your hungry little hole, the pull of arousal soon forming a small puddle in San’s palm. Mingi couldn’t think anymore, he could only rub his painfully hard cock as the wet precum stain became visible through his pants. 

“Baby are you going to cum?” San asked, his other hand leaving your thigh to lay flat on your stomach and drawing quick circles on your clit with his thumb.

“Yesss” you said through gritted teeth. But as you felt the familiar build up almost reach the peak it went away. San withdrew his fingers and took them out of your poor confused little cunt. Leaving you there to clench around nothing and whines slipped from your lips at the sudden loss of the fullness.

“You’re so greedy today” San said before slapping your eager little cunt again. You moaned and shook under him, fighting the urge to close your legs. “I’m not done playing with you”

San started to rub your clit again with his thumb with one hand while he lifted the other slick coated one to his tall friend. He wanted to chuckle but fought against it when Mingi looked back at him with puzzled puppy eyes. So he approached his hand closer to his face and mouthed “taste her”.

Mingi’s brain had given up a long time ago, so he was moving only on instincts when he opened his mouth and licked around his friend's digits as silently as possible. That was a dream come true never in a lifetime he would have hoped to taste you like this. Ever. You tasted so sweet and sinful, the velvety nectar slided on his tongue so smoothly and his eyes rolled back as he solely focused on your taste on his tongue and your alluring scent floating to his nose. 

Fuck that was what San had the pleasure of tasting everytime he found himself between your legs. If only he could taste more. Without even thinking Mingi wrapped both his hands around his friend’s wrist pushing his hand further into his mouth and sucked avidly on the cum coated finger and back to the pool of arousal that had gathered in his palm.

“Yeah that’s it” San praised as he circled your clit slowly, offering some kind of relief to the painfully swollen nub. But the praise was more for Mingi than for you. He smirked as he saw his friend devour your essence as if he was a parched man and the smirk only grew wider when he took back his hand and Mingi opened his eyes back looking at him with a glazed over stare. At that moment San knew his friend was done for.

“Here Princess” San said, extending to you his hand that was now coated in your own slick and Mingi’s spit. You instinctively welcomed the wet fingers into your mouth wrapping your lips around them and sucking them avidly. “How does it taste?”

“Sho- hmph… goodjf” you struggled to reply not wanting to let go of your boyfriend’s fingers.

Mingi was absolutely mesmerized by the way you were so eagerly sucking San’s fingers. Mixing your cum, your spit but also his own. His cock throbbed at the thought of cutting the middleman that was San’s hand and just lean down to kiss you. Lapping at your lips for entrance and diving into you, body and soul. He wanted it all.

“Such a good girl for me” San praised taking his fingers back, not without a quiet whine from your end and a repressed moan from Mingi. 

But the disappointment was short lived when you heard your boyfriend fidgeting with his pants and you knew what was coming up next. You prompted yourself on your elbow and spread your legs wider. San chuckled while Mingi cursed silently.

You were dying to see what San was doing. You wanted to see how he kicked off the pants and took his raging hard cock in hand to pump his fist a couple of times around it. You wanted to see him between your thighs as he rubbed his tip on your wets folds. You arched your back into him again, urging him to fill you up full of his cock.

“Fuck you’re so impatient, baby” He growled as he pushed his tip inside you earning a cry from you. “Is that what you wanted?" he huffed, his eyebrows meeting on his forehead as he felt the vice grip of your pussy around him. Even after a thousand times you still felt so good. So wet and tight for him.

“Y-yess! Oh fuck i- yes thank you Sannieee” you were barely able to say as you felt your cunt stretch around San’s girth. You lifted your face as if you could see him splitting you in two. You’d always liked to see him fill you up but sadly you couldn’t.

But Mingi, on the other hand, could see it all.

Mingi couldn’t help it anymore he pulled his pants and boxers down midthigh just enough to take his hard and leaking cock out. He didn’t take the time to undress. He didn’t have the time he needed to stroke his cock at the exact same pace as San was fucking you. 

Said pace was slow and deep. San liked to start out like that, he liked to drive you mad. You felt every inch of him leisurely pushing his thick cock inside until it touched the deepest part of you only to pull out just as slowly, enjoying the way your cunt gripped around him desperate to ever let him go. You were whimpering, whining and squirming. You were going crazy and you weren't the only one.

Mingi was struggling just as much as you were, his balled fist tightly wrapped around his aching length languidly going up and down. He was struggling to keep the hellishly slow pace, struggling to not stroke his fat cock faster but he had to if he wanted to maintain the illusion that it was him inside of you.

At some point San felt merciful and started to go faster. Not for you really he enjoyed to torture you way too much but it was more for Mingi, he noticed his tall friend pinching his lips into a thin line, sharp eyes shutting close and eyebrow digging a deep crease on his forehead. San enjoyed the anguish but he also enjoyed seeing the relief spread on his friends face when he finally fucked you harder. Your cunt became even tighter around San and he found himself moaning rhythmically along with you every time he pushed his thick cock inside you. While Mingi’s eyes didn't once leave your throbbing pretty pussy gushing out more and more translucent slick.

San gradually picked the pace to the point he was soon smashing his hips into you. Making your breasts jump with each powerful thrust. The fact that you couldn’t see your boyfriend makes you feel him that much more. You felt his strong and calloused hands on your thigh and waist and you felt his cock perfectly splitting you in two to this hellish rhythm that made you forget about anything else. Including your surroundings. You were no longer able to keep your voice down. Everything felt too strong, too good to be able to mask the loud moans of pleasure into small, controlled little whimpers. 

“F-fuck you’re really enjoying your…self” San struggled to say. “Aren’t you?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer anything back. You could only let your tongue loll out of your mouth while you moaned incoherent words.

Mingi’s eyes kept on darting between your swollen cunt and your fucked out face. He just knew that underneath the silk blindfold you were rolling your eyes. And that made his cock twitch in his hold, more precum oozing out the tip, at this point it was practically dripping onto the tiled floor.

“Fuck why are you being so fucking loud for?” San asked with a scoff. “Want people to hear you?”

“Sa-nnie” you complained but you did not become quieter for that much.

“Ohh. I get it” San said in a sarcastic tone, slowing down again. That had you squirming when you felt the tight feeling in your core slowly fading away.

“N-no, p-please Sannie, nooo” you begged shaking your hips, trying to fuck yourself back on your boyfriend’s cock to find the same rhythm.

“You want people to know what kind of good whore you are”

“Yes, yesss. Exactly-fu-... Sannie please.” You would have agreed to anything he was saying to have him fuck you exactly like he was a second ago.

“Maybe you even want my members to hear you” San said with a smirk. “Especially Mingi I bet”.

At the mention of the name you stopped moving around, your brain flooding with the images of Mingi body rolling and dancing.

“Oh you just became tighter baby.” San said with a smirk. “So you do want him to see you” San said, fucking you even slower now. 

“Pleaseeee” you said in a breath.

“I bet you wished it was him fucking you right now” San said eventually completely pulling out of you.

“Noo… P-please” you whined quietly your throbbing cunt clenching around nothing, begging for more attention.

For the first time Mingi peeled his eyes off you to look at his friend only to be met with San’s wicked smirk. San’s smirk grew wider when he saw his fiery haired friend look back at him with big round terrified eyes. He knew Mingi was panicking right now; he couldn’t even touch his cock anymore. Poor weeping thing just waited there ignored while it continued leaking more precum.

“Say it, Princess” San insisted. “Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself” San cooed, leaning over you to whisper in your ear before leaving his place between your legs and gesturing to Mingi to take his place. 

For a second Mingi was completely frozen to the side. He didn’t know how to act. His brain was almost melting out his ears and he was in complete overdrive. But he shook his head and took a silent step in your direction then a second one and found himself right between your spread legs. He could have cum with just that, just looking at you from that angle just knowing that he could take you right there. But he waited. Immobile. 

“If you want more cock. You’ll have to say it baby” San cooed again in your ear and you faced a dilemma.

You didn’t know if you could really voice out your secret fantasy that way. San never struck you to be the jealous kind but still… he required you to say that and in this second, on the brink of your orgasm, your brain only soaked in sin and lust you couldn’t think of anything else than to be rammed again. You pictured Mingi again in your mind, you imagined what he would feel like inside you, what he would sound like, what he would look like. Fuck… you did want that.

“I-I wish it was Mingi fucking me right now” you said hesitantly but pushing your hips up, spreading your legs even further pushing your soaked and desperate little cunt in the air. 

“Good girl” San whispered, satisfied and gave a nod to Mingi.

Mingi’s heart was about to burst out of chest. The frantic muscle was rattling against his ribs and jumping in his throat then diving back in the pit of his stomach. He was all over the place. He couldn't believe it. He couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe he heard you say that. Saying out loud you wished another man was inside you instead of your boyfriend. And not any man. Him. 

You wanted him.

His hands were shaking when he grabbed the base of his cock, twitching as he approached it slowly from your core while you grew more and more impatient. 

“Pleaseee” you whined again. “I said it…. now please give me cock” you pleaded. 

As soon as Mingi’s tip touched your entrance you went completely silent and Mingi struggled to do too. When he pushed himself inside you he could have passed out. You were so welcoming, so warm, so tight, so wet. So good. Oh so fucking good. He progressed inside you very slowly earning a long stretched out moan from your end. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this way. He was the one pulling those beautiful sounds out of your lips. When he bottomed out he swore he had died and went to heaven. There was no other explanation. The way he felt could only be explained by faith. God was a woman. And that woman was you.

Fuck he needed more of this. He needed to feel you more, to hear you more, to see you more. He wanted it all.

He started to pump himself in and out of you faster, his hand struggling to find a place to settle, finally opting to grab the edge of the vanity. Avoiding direct contact with you, fearing you would recognize him. Rapidly he found himself fucking you (and himself) senseless, rutting his hips like a dog while San watched with a little satisfied smirk, thick cock in hand stroking lazily. 

Your mouth went agape. It felt so good, so fucking good to be finally fucked that deep that rough, exactly how you wanted, the tight feeling in your gut rapidly building up again. But it also felt different. The angle was different. It felt like San’s dick wasn’t hitting the same spot as usual, it also felt slightly curved upwards. And longer. And what about the hands, the touches? San always holds you at the waist, always stuffs his fingers in your mouth? Why wasn't he touching you?

In a flash you ripped the blind fold off your eyes and opened them. At first the bright lights of the vanity behind you blinded you for a short second. The first thing you saw was the tuft of dampened fiery orange hair. Then your vision cleared out and you saw Mingi right between your legs, sharp brows deeply furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line and smashing himself into you at an unbelievable pace. 

The shock you felt tightened your stomach and you came on the spot.

To see Mingi fucking you this hard, take so much pleasure with it and struggling to keep quiet while he fucked you secretly. You didn’t need anything more. 

“F-fuc- Min-gi” you whined as your legs tensed up and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your mouth agape.

“Y-y/n” Mingi whispered, his hands flying to your hips at that very second you opened your eyes, the many rings on his fingers digging into your skin and without a doubt marking you for the next couple of days. His strong grip grounding you into the vanity to fuck you deeper, faster, better.

You creamed around his cock, your back arched up, your pretty moans and your cunt fluttering around him took Mingi right with you to cloud 9. He couldn’t stop his hips from ramming into you while he delivered scorching hot ropes of thick cum right into your avid little hole. Spasming and twitching. To him it felt like your pussy was trying to milk him dry as he moaned your name a thousand times while bent over you until his hips became sloppy and he eventually came to a stop.

“Awww.” San said as he looked at the both of you disheveled and out of breath, both coming down from your highs. “You both came looking at each other. That's cute” But then he wrapped his hands around your jaw to turn your head to him. “But that made me a little jealous. Don't you think you need to make it up to me, darling?”

Mingi pulled out, out of breath you felt the hot cum running down your pussy and dripping onto the floor. San placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder and he switched places to join your side.

“Look at that?” San said, crouching down, inspecting your twitching little pussy. “Eventhough you were just fucked full of cum I can tell you want more, baby”

You nodded frantically at the idea of being filled up again.

“Please yes”

San pushed his cock inside you with ease. Mingi’s load providing the perfect lube.

“I slide right in, baby. ” San grunted. After all this teasing he found himself to be closer to his breaking point then he anticipated. “You got her nice and lubed up for me, man.” He sent a cheeky wink to Mingi.

You were just right back down from cumming a short while ago but you found yourself moaning loud for your boyfriend’s cock. It felt so good and soon you were begging him to fuck you harder.

“Please Sannie faster” you said.

“Of course princess I’ll fuck Mingi’s cum right back into your hole he said with a smirk to his friend before smashing himself in. He too was moaning like you were both alone not having a care in the world of what could have been happening outside the dressing room. And soon enough Mingi was hard again.

“Baby, your new boyfriend needs help over there.” San said between moans, drawing your attention back on Mingi again, as he was standing there idle, painful cock laying heavy in his balled fist.

“Please Mingi let me suck your cock” you asked looking right back up at him as your body was jolted up with San’s every move. You didn’t even let Mingi think about it for a second. Your lips instinctively found his beet red tip and you rounded your mouth around it. 

He tasted too good, you relished in the strong flavour and aroma of his cum mixed with your own nectar. It tasted sinful but oh so fucking right. This taste and the way his cock smoothly glided in your tongue made your mind go completely blank. Your tongue focussing on his tip between every come and go around his shaft to collect the precious salty precum you earned along with every grunt, every pant, every whimper from the tall man. You couldn’t have enough of it and you kept on sucking his cock. Relentlessly trying to get another load out of him.

Mingi felt so fucking sensitive right after cumming but it also felt so good.  His strong hand flew to your hair as he grabbed a big fistfull. Instinctively pulling on it to keep you from gobbling up his cock that still felt very sensitive, his moans went up in pitch with overstimulation.

“You’re a real fucking whore for his cock, arent you, Angel?” San asked as he landed a sharp and unexpected slap on your cunt. Making you pop Mingi out of your mouth to look back at your boyfriend again. The delicious sting made you arch your back.

“A-again pleaseee” you said through gritted teeth as San smirked and made your wish come true, slapping your eager little cunt again, making you clench around him harder, making him falter ever so slightly.

Mingi was now pumping his cock over your face, you heard as clear as day the squelching sounds of his spit and cum coating his cock as he stroked it right over you.

San was rubbing tight circles on your swollen reddened clit and ramming into you with all his might. You knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Sannie I’m gonna c-” another sharp slap landed onto your sensitive clit, making you cry out a whimper.

“Not yet, whore. Make your new boyfriend cum first”. San nodded his head in Mingi’s direction.

You were so far gone, mind, body and soul only filled with cock that you didn’t even catch how San referred to Mingi. You were ready to do anything for your boyfriend to finally let you cum so you turned your attention  back to Mingi.

“Please Mingi give me your cum, pleasepleaseplease. Want your cum all over my face.”

Mingi didn’t need more. It flipped a switch inside him to see you spread open by San’s cock but getting your undivided attention to beg for his cum like it was the most precious substance on earth. 

“Fuck y/n” he said in a strangled moan. “Want my cum huh?” the grip on your hair tightened, making the veins of his forearm pop.

“Yes yes yes yes yes pleaseplease” 

“Fuck you’re so good to me. Fuckkkkk… Y/n I love you” he confessed in a breath right before letting out thick ropes of cum that split your face in two from chin to forehead. “I love you I love you I love you” he chanted, both his heart and body finally letting out what he’s been holding back for years. The pleasure made his head spin, more cum crashing onto your nose and lips which you licked hurriedly to get the chance to taste him again.

“Good girl” San said, picking up the pace as he never stopped fucking into you. “You’re so pretty with all this cum on you. Your pretty pussy full of cum and your pretty fucking face too” he said his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Want another load, Princess?” he asked strong shoulders bulging out as he gripped your waist tighter, bruising your skin and joining Mingi’s ring marks. 

“Yes please cum inside sannie” you whined throwing your head back “Please I want your c-hmppph” your words caught in your throat when Mingi started to rub circles on your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. “Fuckkk” you cried.

“P-please… more… c-cum” you said, your brain completely tuning out to let your primal instinct take the lead. 

“Fuck baby I’m so close San said. 

“Me too.. I-” right at this moment Mingi lightly slapped your pussy and it was the last straw. You were pushed over the edge and Mingi continued to give little fast slaps to your sensitive clit, making you shake as your cum gushed out of you in translucent and powerful streams.

“Fuckkk I’m c-cumming” San said as he delivered more cum inside your hole, joining Mingi’s and mixing together. You completely lost your mind on the feeling of how full you felt while San was pumping another big load into you and Mingi was repeatedly slapping your pretty pussy then switching to quick circles again that gradually slowed down to a stop.

When San pulled out he looked at you with a warm smile that made his eyes into crescents.

“Isn’t she pretty like this?” he asked Mingi, who was looking at you with just as much love.

“Yeah, she is” he breathed out while you gradually came back to your senses.

“Should we make it official?” San asked peeling his eyes off you to look at his friend. 

“What?” Mingi asked, clueless.

“Well the three of us are together now.” San said before turning his attention to you again “Isn't that right, darling?” and you nodded.

“Well Mingi, next time if you want to confess in the middle of a fuck how about you take me out on a date before cumming on my face?” You said scraping the cum on your cheeks into your mouth and sucking on your fingers and San chuckled but Mingi protested looking affronted.

“Hey! You asked me to!”

a/n: i had so much fun writing this i hope you liked reading my babes <3

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taglist: @jonghospookiedookie @ateezbbys @mingi-chilli-con-carne @walkingtravesty97 @staytiny816 @fancyglam24 @simpforateezforever @heyitsmetonid @acetruepunk @shineekrystalzzz @hwallazia @kierraperkins3 @seeoonghwaa @dawn-iscozy @miniminkis @itza-meee @bittersweetsparadise @oiminho @nebulousbookshelf @seonghwasbobaeyes @certifiedmoa @mulletjoonsupremacy @therealcuppicake @v-lvs-yungi @yourfatherlucifer @minkiverse @choisanboobenthusiast @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mustbeaweasleyginger (i tagged everyone that asked for part 2 hope you dont mind tell me if u wanna be removed)

[umbrelladripdrop]

DPxDC Idea 2

This one I've actually attempted to write at one point but only got a lil over a chapter done before I moved on and while I do want to write it, I'm also being realistic when I say I probably won't so for a compromise I'll post it here:

Basicly after DP canon has run its course (sans phantom planet obviously) Danny is just chilling with Sam and Tucker when suddenly there's a snag in the conversation that Danny just can't handle. They've all been working together and been there for each other through all the crazy that's happened after the 'portal incident', but at the same time, Sam and Tucker, and even Jazz, can't quite be there for Danny for everything. More specifically, when it comes to the fact that Danny actually died and the effects that has on him.

In my attempt at a fic it came up with Danny complaining to Sam and Tucker about Jazz being overprotective, even if she has been getting better at not being so bad about it all the time, and Sam ends up actually agreeing with Jazz. The friction comes from Sam and Tucker saying how they wish Danny didn't have to be a hero which hurts Danny because he needs to help, he needs to protect the town, and yet his friends are saying that they wish he didn't. It's a bit of a miscommunication sure, but it's also that Sam and Tucker just can't get it and Danny does eventually realize this but not before he storms off and flies all across town.

And on that flight, is where he says those dreaded words:

"I wish that I could just- just talk to someone who understands for once!"

And *boop*! In a sparkle of green dust pops out a real confused Red Hood stranded on a rooftop that has now been thouraly left in Danny's dust as the teen said the words while flying at least 100 miles an hour and therefore did not see the sudden appearance of a person who was not there five seconds ago.

Yep, Desiree is here but literally only for plot stuff as she's the jumping-off point for this fic. She's like the 'big bad' if you want to call her that, but only because they need to fight and defeat her to undo the spell but other than that this would be a pretty chill fic with some nice Jason and Danny (and even Tim and Danny) bonding and shenanigans.

The premise is that, after this wish and first instance of Danny accidentally summoning someone, it keeps happening. After Jason finally meets up with Danny (Red Hood finds himself in a new area so after like a day or two of research and no contact with the bats [ghostly/GIW caused radio black out or something] he does the smart thing and seeks out the towns resident hero) he gets flashes of why he's here and now he knows he's here cause both he and the kid share the experience of death so yeah he's helping this kid now. After that he and Danny (and Tucker and Sam cause they all made up now) find out that anytime Danny states a fact about his life that's weird or slightly traumatizing, he ends up summoning someone who shares that experience with him. Some examples/possibilities I came up with are:

"Who else fights eldrich horrors and what are essentially God's on the regular?" Cue John Constantine popping up, taking one look at Danny, and giving an emphatic fuck this and teleporting out.

"Well- uh- I bet no one else has had their DNA stolen by a freaky billionaire who's weirdly obsessed with them and then cloned them!" Cue Clark showing up frazzled until he sees Jason and just sighs in acceptance of the Weird Bat Shit.

"No! I refuse! There's no way in hell that someone's had to go and fight their future evil self because they came back in time to stop me from making it so their timeline never comes to pass!" Oh and now Tim is here, now him and Jason can start planin on how to fix this mess (and Tim and Danny can start to be friends too. All the bat bonding).

Those are just the first few back to back ones that Danny spews out in his denial that this is even happening after that initial meet up and explination with Jason. Clark ends up dipping with a promise to tell Bruce that Jason and Tim are alright an are just on a mission now I guess, they're not stuck since both Clark and Constantine could leave but it's not like they were just gonna let this shit slide, so yeah they're staying to help out.

Cue plot/shenanigans/accidentally trauma dumping since the spell makes Danny more suseptible to spewing his guts that way the spell can work more by summoning more people. The summons are based off proximity in a sense because they pull in the person closest that can relate to whatever Danny said.

This leads to Jason and Tim end up getting re-summoned again with a few other points like:

"Getting kidnaped by some old creep on the regular is not a fun time." Tim gets teleported back to Danny and they just... stare at each other because didn't this already happen? Aka this is when they figure out the summoning can apparently stack.

"Yeah like I was supposed to know that getting kidnapped by a ‘father figure’ for ‘my own good’ and wanting to strangle said father figure on multiple occasions was a universal experience." Jason who was sitting in a chair ten feet away is now only two feet away and no longer sitting in a chair and falls to the ground with a waterfall of swears.

"None of you get what it's like to have an older sibling as overbearing as jazz!"Jason teleports again and absolutely flips his shit and goes to fucking gag the twirp because this is the third god damned time Danny!

After Jason's 3rd teleportation, they pause the search for what's happening in favor of trying to figure out why he seems incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Literally. Even Danny says that he doesn't know why he's saying all this. They head down to the lab, which leads to this:

"Oh yeah we can go down here all the time, comes with the territory of borderline neglectful parents." Tim who wasn't on the stairs is suddenly now on the stairs (Jazz was leading the way and therefore farther away) and tips head over tea kettle which makes Jason laugh his ass off all while going how does it feel now?!

There's a potential for so many more summonings and accidentally trauma dumping shenanigans/emotional comfort opportunities but these were just all the ones I could come up with.

The day is eventually saved when they trick Desiree back but Jason and Tim end up staying in touch with Danny and end off with everyone being friends cause I'm a sucker for good endings and fluff. Again I might get to making this an actual fic but I'm already working on a big one (and slacking on it a bit my bad) so who knows? But I at least wanted to get the idea out there somewhere in case someone else wanted to play with the idea.

[prokopetz]

Your long and arduous journey has led you to this, the final confrontation. You thought you knew what to expect, but just as you struck the final blow, your ultimate foe's eyes gleamed with unnatural light as they proclaimed…

THIS ISN'T EVEN MY FINAL FORM

A game for 4–6 players

Introduction

This Isn't Even My Final Form is a GMless tactical minigame for 4–6 players. You'll take on the roles of a party of heroic adventurers nearing the end of a world-spanning quest to defeat a great evil, the Final Boss. Unfortunately for them, each time they think they've won, the Final Boss assumes a new, even more horrifying form, and the struggle begins anew. Is there any end to this conflict? There's only one way to find out!

What You'll Need

This Isn't Even My Final Form requires a dozen six-sided dice, as well as a way of keeping track of a few important numbers – a shared text document or some scrap paper will suffice.

Update 2023-10-30: Print-and-play card decks are available here:

http://penguinking.com/this-isnt-even-my-final-form/

Character Creation

Choose two of the following actions to be your Party Member's Class Actions: Strike, Heal, Buff, Debuff. If you'd rather determine this randomly, roll on the following table.

1. Strike, Heal 2. Strike, Buff 3. Strike, Debuff 4. Heal, Buff 5. Heal, Debuff 6. Buff, Debuff

Give your Party Member's Class a name which suits your Class Actions. Also give your Party Member a name; it is traditional but not obligatory for your Party Member's name to have exactly five letters.

Playing the Game

Play is divided into a series of Phases. During each Phase, one player takes on the role of the Final Boss. That player's Party Member does not participate in this Phase; they're trapped, lost, incapacitated, or otherwise separated from the party or unable to act for the duration of the Phase. All other players take on the roles of their Party Members.

The Final Boss player's first order of business is to describe what the current Phase looks like. The Final Boss player can roll 1–3 times on the following table (re-rolling duplicates) to decide on a theme, or use it as inspiration for their own theme. To use this table, roll a six-sided die twice, treating the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66.

11. Beasts 12. Bells 13. Blood 14. Bones 15. Chains 16. Chaos 21. Cubes 22. Eyes 23. Fire 24. Flowers 25. Food 26. Games 31. Gears 32. Glass 33. Gold 34. Hands 35. Holes 36. Ice 41. Iron 42. Light 43. Mazes 44. Meat 45. Mirrors 46. Music 51. Orbs 52. Order 53. Plague 54. Shadow 55. Slime 56. Space 61. Spikes 62. Teeth 63. Time 64. Trees 65. Weapons 66. Wings

Once the Phase has been defined, set the party's Momentum to zero. Momentum is a value which will increase or decrease over the course of the Phase; it has a minimum value of zero, and no particular upper limit.

Play proceeds in a series of rounds, as follows.

The Final Boss Attacks

The Final Boss always goes first in each round. Roll one die:

1–3: The Final Boss chooses one of the following actions. 4–5: The Final Boss chooses two of the following actions. You may not target the same Party Member twice; however, you may use the same action on two different Party Members if you wish. 6: The Final Boss does nothing this round. On its turn next round, it does not roll and instead uses its Ultimate Attack.

Wound: Inflict the Critical Condition on a single Party Member. If the chosen Party Member already has the Critical Condition, it's replaced with the Down Condition and the party loses one Momentum.

Imprecate: Inflict the Cursed Condition on a single Party Member.

Envenom: Inflict the Poisoned Condition on a single Party Member.

Bewilder: Inflict the Confused Condition on a single Party Member.

Counter: If you're targeted by the Strike or Debuff actions this round, after resolving that action, perform the Wound action on the Party Member who targeted you. You may counter any number of actions in this way.

Dispel: Remove the Buffed and Protected Conditions from any number of Party Members.

Enrage: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the better result on its next action. The party may cancel this benefit with a successful Debuff action; doing so removes the extra die instead of forcing the Final Boss to roll twice and take the lower result.

Ultimate Attack: This action can only be chosen by rolling a 6 during the previous round. When the Final Boss uses this action, choose Cursed, Poisoned, or Confused: you may perform the Wound action AND inflict the chosen Condition upon any number of Party Members, in that order. (i.e., Wound each targeted Party Member, THEN Curse/Confuse/Poison any who remain standing.)

The Final Boss player describes the outcome of the chosen action(s) in as much or as little detail as they like; control then passes to the other players.

The Party Acts

After the Final Boss has attacked, each Party Member who doesn't have the Down condition chooses one of the following actions, in any order the players wish. After choosing any action other than Defend, the player rolls their dice pool, which is a handful of six-sided dice constructed as follows:

Start with a number of dice equal to the party's current Momentum (initially zero, though it will grow over the course of the Phase)

Add one die if you're performing one of your Party Member's Class Actions

Add one die if your Party Member currently has the Buffed Condition

Add one die if your Party Member currently has the Critical Condition

Roll all of the dice together, and find the highest result. Ties for the highest result have no special significance; for example, if you rolled four dice and got 1, 3, 5 and 5, your result is 5. If you'd ever end up with zero or fewer dice for any reason – either because your dice pool was empty to begin with, or because some effect obliged you to discard every die you rolled – you receive an automatic result of 1.

If an action requires you to target a specific Party Member or make other choices, you can wait and see the result of your roll before making those decisions.

Strike: You attack the Final Boss. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: Nothing happens – either the attack misses, or the Final Boss turns out to be immune to whatever you just did. 4–5: The attack strikes true. The party gains one Momentum. 6: Critical hit! The party gains two Momentum.

Special: If you roll triples or better (i.e., at least three of the same number) on a Strike action, the Final Boss' current Phase is defeated, and you move on to the next Phase. It doesn't matter what number comes up triples.

Heal: You attempt to restore the party's strength. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: You may remove the Critical Condition from a single Party Member. If no Party Member has the Critical Condition, nothing happens. 4–5: You may remove the Critical Condition from any number of party members OR you may remove the Down Condition from a single Party Member. 6: You may remove the Critical and Down Conditions from any number of party members.

Buff: You attempt to bolster a party member. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: You may grant the Buffed Condition to a single Party Member OR remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down from a single Party Member. 4–5: You may grant the Buffed Condition to a single Party Member AND remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down from that Party Member, if they have one. 6: You may grant the Buffed Condition OR remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down to any number of Party Members. You may choose a different option for each targeted Party Member.

Debuff: You attempt to weaken the Final Boss. Roll your dice pool:

1-3: Nothing happens – it turns out the Final Boss was immune to that effect. 4–5: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the lower result on its next action. 6: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the lower result on its next action AND the party gains one Momentum.

Defend: You may grant the Protected condition to a Party Member of your choice. Do not roll.

Based on the outcome of your roll (if applicable), describe the outcome of your action in as much or as little detail as you wish.

Once each Party Member has acted, return to "The Final Boss Attacks" to begin the next round.

Ending the Phase

As noted above, rolling triples or better on a Strike action results in the immediate defeat of the current Phase. Alternatively, if all Party Members simultaneously have the Down Condition, the Final Boss player's Party Member suddenly breaks free or arrives on the scene and rescues everyone in a stunning deus ex machina; this also ends the Phase, but does not count as defeating it.

In either case, reset the party's momentum to zero, remove all Conditions, and move on to the next Phase. The role of the Final Boss passes to a different player, with preference given to those who haven't yet had a chance to be the Final Boss; the previous Final Boss player resumes playing their Party Member.

Continue until the party has defeated a number of Phases at least equal to the number of players, or until mutual agreement has been reached that all this has gone on quite long enough.

Conditions

Some actions can impose Conditions upon the individual Party Members. Conditions can be positive or negative, and last until specific conditions for their removal are met.

Buffed: Your strength has been boosted. When rolling your dice pool, you roll one extra die.

Confused: You've lost your wits. When the party acts, your action is determined by rolling a d6 – 1: Strike; 2: Heal; 3: Buff; 4: Debuff; 5: Defend; 6: do nothing this round AND remove this Condition. This Condition is also removed if you gain the Critical Condition while under its effects. You may choose targets normally if the rolled action requires them. Confused Party Members always act before their un-Confused peers; if there are multiple Confused Party Members, the Final Boss decides the order in which they act.

Critical: You are badly wounded. Desperation lends strength, and so this Condition adds one extra die to your dice pools; however, if you suffer the Critical Condition a second time, it becomes the Down Condition instead.

Cursed: You've been afflicted with misfortune. Discard your highest result after rolling your dice pool, but before applying your chosen action's effects. If there's a tie for the highest result, discard all of them; for example, if you roll four dice while Cursed and get 1, 3, 5 and 5, your result is 3. If the Condition causes you to discard your only set of triples of better on a Strike action, the Phase does not end.

Down: You are incapacitated by injury or foul enchantment. When the party acts, you may not choose an action; your action remains lost even if this Condition is removed before the end of the round. When you gain this Condition, remove all other Conditions, and the party loses one Momentum. (This is not in addition to the Momentum loss noted by effects which inflict this Condition – those are just reminders.) You may not gain other Conditions while this one persists.

Poisoned: You're afflicted by a poison, plague, or death-curse. If you have the Poisoned Condition after resolving your action for the round, you gain the Critical Condition. If you already have the Critical Condition, you instead gain the Down Condition, and the party loses one Momentum.

Protected: The next time you would gain any Condition other than Buffed, remove this Condition instead. You also remove this Condition if you take any action other than Defend on your turn.

[hello-nichya-here]

Think I finally managed to understand why Azula not getting a redemption arc works in the show, but not in the comics (beyond the absurd ableism in the Yang stories that is).

Azula has become the classic case of a villain that keeps being brought back due to popularity despite clearly not belonging in the story anymore.

Her arc as a villain was completed in the show. She's been the backstabber, the relentless pursuer, and the cunning villain that wins through mindgames. She's been in charge, been under someone else's rule, joined forces with another villain, and had her enemies join forces against her.

She's been the villain that wins people through manipulation and/or charisma, or that full on threatens them into submission. She had henchmen that she used and threw away, and henchmen she cared about and was abandoned by. She was arrogant and power hungry, but also desperate for validation. She was the main villain's adored, loyal pet that was eventually kicked aside in the end.

She's been the lesser of two evils when compared to Ozai, and the worse of multiple evils when compared to Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee. She's been the villain that gets back up after a defeat post The Drill, the villain that wins (by corrupting one of the potential heroes, capturing a friend of the protagonist and KILLING said protagonist) in the Ba Sing Se arc, the villain that has both a satisfying AND tragic downfall in Boiling Rock and the finale, and the villain with hints of humanity that she refuses to embrace in The Headband, The Beach and the finale.

She had conflicts with people she had zero personal history with (Aang, Long Feng) leading to both physical and mental battles, and people she had a messy history with (her friends and Zuko) leading to super emotional scenes.

And finally, she's been the cold, calculating villain AND the villain that is a complete wreck mentally/emotionally - that last one only lasting for the finale because Azula's breakdown was not the CAUSE of her evil actions, it was the consequence of it. And said consequence made her be both the villain that is defeated by the heroes and the one that causes her own downfall.

Every single fucking thing that could have been done with her as villain has been done in the show already. Even Spirit Temple, the only comic that understood her character, couldn't do much beyond just repeat stuff we're already seen.

Azula refusing to accept anything she considers weakness or imperfection? We've see that in nearly every scene she was in.

Azula leading an evil squad? Literally what she did for 90% of her screentime on the show.

Azula losing said squad and refusing to take responsibility for it? Literally the Mai and Ty Lee arc, hence the two haunting her mind in that same comic. Only this time it happened MUCH faster because Azula no longer has all the political power she once had, so there's less consequences for crossing, so she's not as threatening to ANYONE.

Azula being pathetic and making a fool out of herself? The Beach exists.

Azula being obsessive to the point that it's almost laughable? Again, 90% of her screentime.

Azula having issues with her mom, desperately wanting love from her family, friends and a potential boyfriend? Again, The Beach exists and so does the finale.

The scene of her being confronted with a hallucination of an angry Zuko and shooting lightning at him? Literally a direct reference to the Last Agni Kai, which was the culmination of both of their arcs.

The ONLY thing that was new in that comic was the short moment in which Azula shows resentment towards her father for turning her into a copy of him, and that wasn't explored further not just because it's a stand-alone comic, but also because doing so would open the can of worms that is "Wait, if she's self-aware and processing trauma, that means she could learn her lesson and change" and since the writers clearly don't wanna go there, the scene is useless.

If the writers insist on keeping Azula an active threat in the story, they're setting themselves up for failure. Either they're gonna keep repeating storylines we've already seen with far less tension and with a villain that got a severe downgrade, essentially making Azula the Tom to their Jerry, or they're gonna pull a Yang and go "Make her crazier to make her scary again!" while ignoring that her days as a villain were cut BECAUSE she went insane, and now that here vil plans make no fucking sense anymore, the heroes just look stupid for not being able to defeat her.

Azula has nothing more to give to the story in the role of a villain, so she should either only appear in flashbacks or quick mentions of "she's being cared for, but it seems it's too little too late", or she should be redeemed to get a new role in the story, with new paths to explore. She just can't keep being put into the role of active threat, when we've all seen said threat was clearly neutralized already.

It. Does. Not. Work.

[questionable-sanity]

The TGCF film trailer has me thinking about Xianle Era Mu Qing again because of his 0.1s of screen time, which is enough to feed me for the next year.

How do you think it felt for Mu Qing, being given the role of the demon? Able to display his fighting prowess, yes, but purposely put in the position destined to be defeated by the representation of Good, the Crowned Prince.

To be assigned a role of Evil, as the son of a criminal. As someone repeatedly accused of theft and wrongdoing simply because he is poor.

It is mentioned that at some point in their performance, Mu Qing began fighting with his all. Was it out of rage? A desperation to prove his worth as a cultivator? Did he hope to defeat the Crowned Prince, even knowing that he would have suffered consequences for it? Was it, deep down, to express a sense of futility - to become the demon everyone expects him to be?

To be defeated anyway, then to be accused of more wrongdoing after the festival, of intentionally meaning to ruin it.

Then, accused of stealing once more. Mu Qing would spend centuries searching for that red bead. For what purpose? To clear his name? To close that chapter of his life forever? To finally be able to forget the past, to put it to rest?

How can someone expect a person who had been treated in such a way to play the eternally grateful, loyal servant after Xie Lian had been banished, when they were all starving and yet he continued to serve? Sure, he had been given the opportunity to cultivate due to Xie Lian, but does being given an opportunity to display your hard work while still working as a servant mean being eternally indebted? Xie Lian's kindness in that decision cost him nothing.

Frankly, overall, Mu Qing had been treated quite poorly as a person, as could be expected of a lowly servant.

Certainly, Mu Qing could have never felt like a friend to the Crowned Prince, back then.

[guess-that-ship]

S15 Finals

pathetic little guy and his big cult leader wife

cw: cult

Guy gets pressured to join a cult. He ends up feeling a deep sense of belonging there and also grows totally-not-obsessed with the cult's leader. Good thing is that she's obsessed with him too. He thinks she's the coolest and fiercest person he's ever seen. She thinks he's her loyalest and most trusted subordinate. They enter an undefined secret third thing relationship after she makes him her second-in-command.

They're a soldier and his general. They're a deity and her devotee. They love each other but aren't in love. She gives him a rock. He makes her laugh. They invade and rule over a bunch of people together. Eventually he grows power-hungry, while she wants him to stop acting like she isn't above him.

He starts a rebellion from within the cult, leading to her killing him to stop it. This breaks her and leaves her vulnerable for the heroes to defeat. In a way, they killed each other.

More than just a sidekick

cw: major spoilers

Henchman has been working for Scientist for years, and though Scientist is considered undesirable by all, Henchman is still by his side. And while Scientist acts as though he’s uncaring, he still seeks out Henchman’s opinion and thoughts on his latest discoveries and revelations.

Things change, however, when Scientist disappears and is presumed dead. Henchman gets a new job, but mourns his loss everyday, still holding out hope that Scientist is out there somewhere. And shockingly he is. Scientist meets with Henchman once again, and Henchman immediately returns to his side. Scientist brings Henchman along for his evil schemes, and when Scientist is defeated, Henchman is the one who rescues him and nurses him to health, keeping him safely hidden away from the heroes who believe he’s dead.

But of course, an evil scientist can’t stay dormant forever, and Scientist gets wrapped up within a different scientist’s evil plans. Henchman is jealous that Scientist’s attention and love is focused entirely on this new scientist, and is eventually left behind. Scientist, meanwhile, finds out that the other scientist’s evil plans would kill everyone, and the only way to stop him is through sacrificing himself. And in Scientist’s final moments, he calls out to Henchman, proclaiming to the world that he’ll miss him. Leaving Henchman mourning one final time.

[starvingnarcissistmusic]

I should really make a non music blog so that people who like my music don’t get bombarded by random unrelated stuff but this is like tangentially related sort of so whatever

God I just love Mal Du Pays. I am always a sucker for “the enemy is you / the enemy is a manifestation of some part of you” trope in any media but MDP has by far gotta be one of the best applications of it I’ve ever seen.

I mean even just the design of it is brilliant. Obviously inverting a characters colors to get the evil / darker version isn’t anything new for this trope, but ISAT is unique in that you have quite literally been STARING AT MDP THE WHOLE GAME, every single time you die and every single time you loop back. Turning the non diegetic game over screen into a diegetic encounter is incredibly clever and immediately gives MDP that sense of crushing pressure that makes it so memorable.

Also literally any game where the game over music is later established as the motif of a character automatically just wins me over by default. It’s such an effective tool in immediately conveying just what MDP is, even before any of the dialogue starts. It’s the end of this journey. It’s the pain of a home you’ve never known. It’s an entire universe collapsing in on you at once. It’s the end. It’s the end. It’s the end.

And I think, it’s a little Fucked Up, that Siffrin’s sadness looks identical to him. Every other sadness we see in the game is very distinctly not human in appearance, incredibly abstract and inhuman pretty much all around the board. But Mal Du Pays? The sadness of our main character? Pretty much the same. Literally a color swap. I think that’s incredibly telling. A being born of Siffrin’s grief and pain and agony, and the form it takes is his own silhouette.

Thematically, it’s very On The Nose that Siffrin’s worst enemy is simply himself, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you expect. I remember getting to MDP for the first time, seeing Siffrin walk through the void and just… knowing what would come next. Of course it would be another him. For Siffrin, his hell is himself. This nightmarish half-life, devoid of a past and with nothing but a quickly collapsing future, his worst impulses and fears and agonies and pains personified, and all it looks like is his shadow. Of course, what else could be here, at his lowest of lows, but a reflection? Of course there would be nothing here but you. It’s always only ever been you. Mal Du Pays is a mirror. A mirror that hates you like you do, that loathes you like you loathe yourself. In the worst, most monstrous way possible, it tells you exactly what you’ve been telling yourself your whole journey. And so you believe it, let it sink its words into your skin and bury you in the misery. Because maybe then, maybe when you finally give in, it won’t hurt anymore.

(A cold comfort is still, however little it may be, a comfort.)

And then you’re saved. The King is defeated, your friends came back for you, you manage to come up for air again. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Everything is still coming to an end. You’re still going to be all alone. And so, you sink again.

Notice how Bigfrin doesn’t have a face in this panel? This is Siffrin at their most self destructive, most desperate, lower than lower than low. And in a way, I think that by quite literally looking like the Sadness they nearly created, they’re symbolically drawing a parallel there. Siffrin fully embraces what Mal Du Pays represented, to the point that their new form looks just like it. Even if they didn’t manifest MDP, they are just as horrible. After all, the mirror goes both ways. Mal Du Pays looks just like Siffrin, but that also means that Siffrin looks just like Mal Du Pays. And maybe, in Siffrin’s head, they’re one and the same. Maybe they’ve always been.

Oh god it’s 1 in the morning. I did not mean to make this that long lmao w h o o p s

uhhhhhh in summary tldr mdp is very good isat is also very good play isat

(also if you want more MDP content, I sort of wrote a whole song about it. So listen to that if you’d like. Im goin to bed)

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Okay the idea that grabbed me the most from the Kuttenberg Vampire thing...

(I've not finished the game yet so in terms of Canon Events this is entirely bullshit. Somehow this also ended up being 3.6k words. Rated E but only just. In which Henry gets turned into a vampire, and Hans tries to save him.)

Henry goes to Kuttenberg. He needs to find John of Lichtenstein. He's going to save Hans. But... he never does. He enters the city, and he vanishes.

Weeks - months - later, Hans is free. But Henry never came for him. In fact, everyone presumes Henry is dead. But this is Henry. Hans refuses to believe it, so he goes to the last place he was seen to find him himself, even if all that's left is a pile of bones.

Eventually, he finds someone who tells him a man matching Henry's description was seen going into the tunnels below the city. And he tries, he really does, but the walls close in on him and the ceiling creaks down and he can't breathe, he can't even see, and by the time he comes back to his senses he's back in the air with his heart thundering in his ears.

He really is useless. He heads to a tavern on the edge of the city. He'll either drink himself to death or get enough liquid courage to get back in those catacombs. But there he finds a familiar face: not Henry, but Mutt.

The innkeeper tells him Mutt appeared a while ago, lost and skinny. He's welcome to keep the beast (for a small fee). Hans takes him, and with the animal by his side he feels a little surer of himself. He returns to the tunnels.

Mutt is a good companion, but better than that: he's a good tracker. It's Mutt who leads Hans to the sealed-off tunnel, who scratches at the planks blocking the way until Hans shoulders his way through them.

On the other side is a chamber, rank with rot. The floor crunches beneath Hans’s boots: bones. Hundreds, maybe thousands. Rats, mostly, but some are larger: dogs, cats. A few birds.

He goes deeper. Another chamber. In the corner, a pile of rags. A bed? Mutt is in turn whining and barking. Hans reaches in, desperate to find anything that might lead him to Henry. And then there's a hand on his shoulder.

He spins around, dropping his torch. The flames illuminate the one who grabbed him from below, horrible and hellish.

Henry.

He's alive. But he's different. His eyes are darker, face sunken. He looks sick. He looks like he's close to death: like he died a long while ago, but never stopped moving.

"Henry?"

Hans tries to embrace him. Henry backs away. He moves so quickly that it makes Hans’s head hurt.

"Don't--" Henry backs himself into a corner. He looks terrified. "You need to go.'

Hans refuses. He didn't come all this way and through those fucking tunnels just to leave Henry now he's found him. They argue. Henry won't back down. Neither will Hans. Henry blathers about danger, and monsters, and the Devil. Hans won't have any of it.

And then he sees. He sees the flash of something new in Henry's mouth.

"What the fuck is going on?"

And finally, exhausted, defeated, Henry tells him. He'd been exploring the tunnels. He heard a noise - found a body. He was attacked. Not by a man, but by a creature: a devil spawn which took him down and sank in its teeth and left him drained and dead.

But not dead. He came back. Came back like this - wrong and hungry and evil. Came back with the Devil in him. Hans has heard stories like this before. Demons, blood suckers. Vampires.

"Just leave me," Henry says. "Just go."

Hans will never leave him. Henry has saved him so many times, and he intends to return the favour.

It takes some convincing - and stealing a horse - before they leave the city. They ride by night: the sunlight makes Henry's skin blister. Henry tells him more. He's been living off rats and strays, draining them dry in the mouldy crypt that's been his home these past months. Hans asked if he's ever taken from a human. It takes a while, but Henry confesses: yes, just once. A bandit in the tunnels looking for loot. It had just happened. He didn't mean to.

At last, they return home. Henry is greeted in the way befitting a man returned from the dead, and he hates it. Hans bundles him into his own chambers, telling the others that he's sick and tired and needs a bath and a rest. The part about the bath, at least, is true: Henry stinks.

Once Henry is settled, Hans makes a decision. He's going to find a cure. He's going to fix this.

"What if you can't?" Henry says, in a tub of filthy water. "What if there is no cure. What if you fail? I can't stay here."

The answer is obvious. "Then we leave together," Hans says. "Wherever you go, I go."

"But you can't. You're a Lord."

Hans doesn't care. "I can. And I will. I won't leave you again."

He leaves Henry asleep in his bed and goes to find Godwin. Hans suspects Godwin knows fuck all about vampires, but he is discreet. He has too many of his own sins to worry about anyone else's.

He finds him in the tavern, of course.

"I need to talk to you," he says, pulling him aside and placing a full jug of wine in front of him.

Godwin eyes the wine. "Go on?"

Hans suddenly doesn't know where to begin. It's about Henry. It's about the Devil. It's about sin and God and absolution and Hell. Father Godwin listens to him ramble before speaking.

"I had wondered how long it would take you two," he says, laughing. "I have often wondered why they tell us God is so happy to allow us to murder and seige each other but is apparently so furious with a little light sodomy. What is it you need? Penitence and pardon?"

Hans chokes on his wine. His face goes red. It's not that. At least: not in the way Godwin thinks. That guilt has been eating at Hans for a while, now, the fear of Hell and the noose, but right now he has more pressing problems. The dark heart of him - his sodomical nature - can wait.

"It'll be easier to show you," he says.

Involving someone else in this is a huge risk, but Hans isn't sure what else they can do. Godwin speaks to Henry, examines him, looks at his teeth.

"I cannot say I know how to help," he says.

Hans’s heart sinks. He's already planning how to leave, where they can go where Henry will be safe.

"But... I think I may know someone who does."

Godwin rides off that very day. When he finds the person he's looking for, he'll send word to Hans and they will set out after him. All they have to do is wait.

The waiting nearly kills him. But they find sense in it all. They tell people that Henry is very unwell and that Godwin is looking for something that will help: the truth, in a way. They settle into a routine where Henry emerges after sunset and before dawn, snatching a few hours together where they can, and making sure others see him too.

Henry stays in Hans’s chambers. It's so he can keep an eye on him, Hans says. Just in case. Sometimes he wakes to find Henry near him, watching him. Once he is stirred from extremely pleasant dreams to find Henry leaning beside him, his hand resting in the crook of Hans’s neck.

"I can hear your heartbeat," Henry says, eyes dark.

They don't talk about it.

There have never been so few rats in the castle.

Finally, a message arrives from Godwin. He bids them to return to Kuttenberg where he will introduce them to a friend of his. Hans is keen to set off as soon as possible: he cannot stand the anxiety of waiting for much longer.

How they'll travel to meet him is a difficult question. Henry cannot ride by daylight, but the roads are dangerous by night. Their solution is simple: a covered cart, the canvas lined with wool and sealed at the back to ensure no light can get in. It's awkward and slow, but it works.

Their journey is easy; at first. And then the worst happens. A bandit attack, just after sunset. They're outnumbered, but that has never mattered before, and now there's a new strength thrumming beneath Henry's skin that Hans has never seen before. He takes down the bandits brutally, and its terrifying, and beautiful.

And then he lets his guard down. A man goes for Hans, and Henry turns - tries to stop him - and then there's a second bandit on his back. The knife goes in again, again, again.

Hans has the bandit who attacked him on his back in an instant. Henry rears back and the one whose knife is embedded in his side is taken down in a spray of blood. And then he's on his knees. He pulls the dagger out and flings it aside.

No. No, no: not now, not when they've gotten so far and Godwin is dangling the promise of a cure to this hell in front of them. Hans throws himself down beside Henry, scrabbling at his clothes, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Hans. Hans."

Henry takes his hands and pushes them away. He rips off the ruined tunic. His chest and back is covered in horrible wounds, bleeding sluggishly. But as Hans watches... they close. The bleeding stops. Henry's breathing levels.

But the wounds don't heal entirely. Henry is left with a torso full of dark, angry-looking gashes.

"Shit," he says. "Shit. Normally I-- I heal."

There's nothing they can do. Hans wraps Henry's chest in bandages, more to keep the blood off his clothes than anything else, and they're back on the road. But Henry is slower, now. Potions and tinctures don't work. The wounds don't heal. They're riding down a wide road one night, side by side atop the cart, when Henry slumps sideways. He nearly falls. He would have fallen, if Hans hadn't caught him.

Somehow, Hans gets him into a clearing at the side of the road and leans him against a tree. It takes a lot of cajoling for Henry to admit what's wrong.

"I've not..." he says, through laboured breaths. "I've not eaten in too long. That's why I'm not healing."

Oh. Well that's easy, then. Hans tells him as much himself. Henry does not agree.

"I can't catch anything like this," he says. "And you're a shitty shot."

"I'm not intending to catch you a deer, you oaf," Hans says. "Use me. Christ above, Henry, it's not like you have much of a choice."

Henry looks horrified. "No. No, I can't."

"And if you don't?"

"I'll be fine."

"You'll die."

It's a guess, but the expression on Henry's face makes Hans realise its true.

"What if I hurt you?" he says at last. "What if I can't stop?"

Hans takes his hands. "You won't hurt me," he says. "And if you're that worried about it, give me your dagger. If you go too far, I'll stab you again."

Henry laughs, thank God, although the sound is strained.

"You think that will stop me?"

"No," Hans says, "but it'll distract you enough so you realise what you're doing."

Henry still seems unconvinced.

"Please," Hans says, frustrated that he's resorting to begging. "I... I refuse to loose you like this, Hal."

Henry relents. It takes a little shuffling to find the best position. Henry slots between Hans's legs, and Hans tries to keep his mind on what's about to happen, not the feeling of Henry's thighs between his own. He pulls off his shirt: this, he suspects, will be messy. He thinks on Godwin's words about sodomy. His heart is thundering.

Henry, he knows, can hear it. He wonders if he knows why it's beating so hard.

He grips his knife in one hand. He won't need to use it. Henry edges closer. His skin feels strange, cooler than usual, slightly unreal. His hands come up to tilt Hans's head just so, exposing his neck. His lips brush Hans's skin. Hans can feel his breath. He closes his eyes.

It hurts, but only for a moment. And then -

Hans curses. Henry stills.

"Don't you dare stop."

He's never felt anything like this. The pain peters out almost immediately, replaced with a burning, rushing heat that seems to fill him to the very tips of his fingers. Henry opens his mouth wider, tonguing at Hans's skin. He cannot tell if his neck is wet with blood or spit.

Henry makes a deep, guttural noise. Hans feels it rumble out of his chest. He bucks his hips instinctively, and - God's Teeth - he's never been this hard in his life. He rubs himself against Henry's thigh, too lost to bliss to care that Henry will be able to feel what he's doing.

It's over too soon. Henry laps at his skin, and then - horribly - pulls back. Hans can barely think. He mutters something needy and desperate. He can't hear Henry's reply over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. And then panic grips him.

He's going to lose him. After wars and battles and nearly dying and being fucking shot and weeks of hunting and then, to top it all, a fucking devilish curse, he's going to lose Henry in the way he suspected he always would: with Henry figuring out the shame in the heart of him and turning away.

"Henry, wait--"

He doesn't get a chance to finish that sentence. Henry is back upon him, his lips brushing his neck now not in a toothy bite but in a gentle, soft caress. He heaves Hans into his lap - there's that untapped strength again - and Hans can feel that he, too, is desperately hard.

His release comes embarrassingly swiftly. Henry's takes longer - and Hans is determined to commit the feeling of Henry's cock between his thighs to memory, in case it never happens again.

Afterwards, they lie side-by-side beneath the trees. Henry's hand is tucked into the crook of Hans's neck; feeling his pulse, Hans realises. He looks so much more alive, now, the wounds on his chest closed, his eyes sparkling. There is blood around his mouth.

"It's why I didn't kiss you," Henry confesses in the dark as Hans attempts to wipe it away. "I thought... well. It might be weird."

And there's the Henry that Hans knows and loves. A little awkward, a little off guard, always unsure if he's a peasant or a blacksmith or a nobleman's son. Hans laughs.

When Henry is finally clean of blood, he holds Hans down and kisses him and kisses him until Hans can no longer breathe.

The rest of the journey goes slower; not because of bandits or brigands, but because Hans is insatiable, and now he's been given permission he cannot stop. By the time they finally reach Kuttenberg, Godwin is clearly sick of waiting.

Their destination, it turns out, is further afield: a convent a few days ride out of the city, right on the edge of nowhere. This isn't like an illness, Godwin explains. This is worse.

They need an exorcism.

Hans keeps his eyes lowered and his arms close as they walk through the halls of the convent. It's too quiet, here, save for the sound of singing. Henry winces: the holy songs burn his ears. Hans is more worried that they can all see through him, these brides of Christ. That they're all judging him.

Godwin and Henry speak to the Abbess. Hans is not permitted to enter. He sits outside her solar with his head down and his hands clasped together. He prays. He doesn't know if God will listen to him, but he prays anyway.

It feels like an age has passed when he's finally called in. Henry stays silent and stoic as the Abbess and Godwin explain their task to him. There is a novice, she explains - a girl with exceptional talents. She has the makings of a saint. She has expelled demons before; though never like this.

It will be hard going. If it does not work, it is likely Henry will die. Hans tries to see what Henry thinks of this, but he refuses to look at him across the long table. Hans feels himself shaking.

"What do we need to do?"

Hans isn't well-versed enough in holy teachings to understand it all. They need certain herbs, candles, tinctures. Blessed water. Prayer. Holy books of dubious origin, hundreds of years old.

"We need you there, boy," Godwin says. "The Devil is hateful and powerful. If you want him gone... you need something better than hate. You need love."

Now Henry is looking at him. He looks unsure; as if Hans could ever deny this feeling.

"I'll do whatever you need."

He is given words in ancient Latin to read. A candle to hold. He dares not ask what gives it its eerie red colour. A fragrant garland is placed around his head, a thurible with incense pouring from it around his neck.

A cut is made in the crook of his arm. They collect his blood in an earthen dish, then take it away. He doesn't ask what they intend to do with it.

Henry is stripped and placed on a bed. Hans is commanded to kneel at his head. In one hand he holds aloft the candle, the other he rests on Henry's forehead. Henry peers up at him. It would be laughable if the situation weren't so dire.

The Abbess leads in the novice. They begin. There are so many rush lights burning and so much smoke and scent in the air that Hans nearly chokes on it. The candle in his hand melts, the hot wax burning his hand. He doesn't let go. He never moves his hand.

The novice's voice is clear and high, like an angel. She warbles Latin. She bids Hans to speak his part. When he does, it's like there's ropes around his chest, like lightning under his skin. He doesn't know what's happening, but it feels like it's working.

Henry groans beneath him. The novice drips a thick ointment onto his chest. Henry yells. The room smells like burning flesh. The novice does not stop. She paints letters into Henry's skin, speaking in Latin, swaying as she does. The Abbess prays. Father Godwin places something to Hans's lips. Wine. He drinks down greedily, unaware of how thirsty he is. Sweat comes off him in torrents.

The air is full of fire. Henry writhes upon the bed. Blood pools in the corners of his eyes. Hans wishes he could wipe it away, but he cannot let go, cannot move. He focuses instead on the feeling in his chest; the love, the dedication, the desperate need for a future.

"Don't go," he says. "Don't leave me, Henry. I do not give you permission to go."

Henry swears in a voice that isn't his. Hans is terrified, but doesn't move. The novice's voice reaches a fever pitch. Henry's eyes open. They're black - like pools of ink - like night. Like nothing.

Hans stares down at the thing in Henry's body. It stares back at him, like it can see into his soul.

Let it see, Hans thinks. Let it drink it in. He thinks of Henry. He lets the love fill him, lets it overtake him. Is this Holy, he thinks? Is this a sin? How can it be, when it feels like this.

The demon mutters something. Henry's body shakes. His skin is hot. The novice screams - they're so close. Hans's fingers and wrist are covered in wax. It burns.

He stares down into the face of the man he loves with the eyes of the demon he isn't.

"Audentes fortuna iuvat."

It's not the right words, he knows. It isn't like the words the novice instructed him to say.

Henry goes still. He blinks. One second its those dark, horrible, endless eyes. And then there he is: there's his Henry.

Henry takes a long time to heal. His chest is covered in terrible burns, which must be treated and re-wrapped several times a day. He has to relearn his body, rediscover thirst and hunger. Hans is there beside him every step, holding him, keeping him close.

They do not fuck again for a while; a miraculous act of self control, Hans thinks. He fears what would happen were they to fuck in a convent. They would probably be struck by lightning.

When the Abbess releases them and they're back on the road, however...

Hans has gone too long wanting to give over to restraint. Henry appears to be of the same mind.

Things are not the same, when they finally return home. Henry's appetites have changed - Hans has to stop him from eating meat raw. He can step into the sun, but he burns more easily than he once did. He's very weak, for a long time. That unnatural strength has gone, taking with it some of Henry's natural strength as well.

Things are not the same. Henry shares Hans's bed more often that not, for one; sneaking through the corridors when everyone else is abed. The bathhouse girls bemoan Hans’s sudden change of heart when he passes them by; they're missing out on good coin, after all.

Hans knows that the future is going to be uncertain. Neither of them know what will happen to Henry; if he will stay like this, trapped between two forms, or if he will one day be back to how he was. Or if the Devil will take him again.

Hans watches him sleep, his head pillowed on Hans's chest. He drifted off there, listening to Hans's heartbeat. It makes him feel safe, he says. Hans brushes back his hair so he can better see his face.

Let the Devil try, he thinks. I'll be ready for him this time.

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter six | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | mentions of death, Coriolanus, Dr. Gaul, some parts of this chapter are directly taken from the original book!

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Arachnes' funeral, Coriolanus and you bonding on the rooftop <3

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 hello! Chapter six!! This was finished quickly because some of the paragraphs and quotes are directly from the books and we're finally peeling the layers that reader has, how we feeling about that?

Beta read by the SUN @nowitsmissing

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It was time for Arachnes' funeral. Although it was Saturday, the entire student body reported to homeroom before they assembled on the front steps of the Academy, divided neatly and alphabetically by class. By his assignment, Coriolanus and you found themselves in the front row with faculty and distinguished guests, first and foremost President Ravinstill.

The Academy and the surrounding buildings were festooned with funereal banners and sported Capitol flags in every window. Numerous cameras were positioned to record the event, and multiple Capitol TV reporters streamed live commentary. Coriolanus thought it was quite a display for Arachne, disproportionate to both her life and death, the latter of which could have been avoided if she’d refrained from being such an exhibitionist.

Both Coriolanus and you were wearing black suits with a symbol of Panem embroidered on the suit pocket. Coriolanus was made to sing in front of everyone. It was thanks to his grandma’am and her rules that he sailed through all the notes with a breeze. He received applause from the crowd and an approving nod from the president. He sat down again beside you.

Neither of you had spoken to each other other than the greetings. He hated to admit it but it made him jumpy. He wanted to hear you say something, anything, especially with the fact you had the upper hand with Dr. Gaul with the act you have planned for the funeral. It was impressive despite the initial horror he felt reading it. It was a strategy that would work perfectly with the times.

Now it was time for the show.

The president, who now took the podium, began, “Two days ago, Arachne Crane’s young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us,” the president intoned. “Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem.”

The drums began a slow, deep boom, and the crowd turned as the funeral procession rounded a corner onto the street. Although not as wide as the Corso, Scholars Road easily held the honor guard of Peacekeepers, standing shoulder to shoulder, twenty wide and forty deep, that stepped in flawless uniformity to the rhythm of the drums.

Behind the Peacekeepers came a long flatbed truck with a crane affixed to it. High in the air, the bullet-ridden body of the District 10 girl, Brandy, dangled from its hook. Shackled to the truck bed, looking utterly filthy and defeated, were the remaining twenty-three tributes. The length of their restraints made it impossible to stand, so they either crouched or sat on the bare metal floor. This was just another chance to remind the districts that they were inferior and that there would be repercussions for their resistance.

Another battalion of Peacekeepers followed the tributes, paving the way for a quartet of horses. They were decked in garlands and pulled an ornate wagon with a pure white coffin draped in flowers. Behind the coffin came the Cranes, riding in a horse-drawn chariot. At least her family had the decency to look uncomfortable. The procession halted when the coffin drew up in front of the podium.

Dr. Gaul, who’d been sitting next to the president, approached the mic. Coriolanus thought it was a mistake to let her speak at such a moment, but she must have left the crazy lady and her pink snake bracelets at home because she spoke with a stern and intelligent clarity. “Arachne Crane, we, your fellow citizens of Panem, vow that your death will not be in vain. When one of ours is hit, we hit back twice as hard. The Hunger Games will go forward, with more energy and commitment than ever before, as we add your name to the long list of the innocent who died defending a righteous and just land. Your friends, family, and fellow citizens salute you and dedicate the Tenth Hunger Games to your memory.”

He hated how impressed he was about the fact all of this was your idea. How much he felt proud of you that you managed to spin this around for the Capitols' benefit. He turned to you, on the tip of his tongue a congratulations resting but you were looking down on the ground as if trying to keep yourself from getting sick. Coriolanus found himself shockingly concerned.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

“As good as I can be,” you seem to choke out before getting out of your seat and leaving the funeral early. Coriolanus looks around and realizes he won't be missed if he leaves either so he follows you inside the academy. You move around the hall without knowing he is trailing you. And then both of you soon reach the roof, forbidden but who cares? He doubted Dean Highbottom could give him any sort of punishment during a funeral, it wouldn't look good.

“What's wrong?” He asked, worried. His face was etched in a frown. What was there to be sad about? You made it pretty clear that you weren't mourning Arachne Cranes’ death. Was it something else?

“I didn't think she would do it,” you said, turning around to face him. Your eyes filled with tears. “It was a joke. A cruel joke of turning her into the rotten spectacle she always was. I didn't think- think-”

You were so contradicting. It was confusing to him. “But you said everything you wrote was for Panem,” he said, his confusion sweeping in his voice and his eyes.

You scoffed, “Would you rather have me admit it was because I wanted to be a bitch? Because… that was me being dramatic, I didn't expect it to be reality. It was disgusting. It was cruel. It came from my head.”

A sob escapes your lips and it makes Coriolanus frown harder, feeling irritated by you. He clenched his jaw before calming himself down. He walked towards you, standing right near you.

He said, “Real or not?” Because you were a performer, in a different way from Lucy Gray but a performer nonetheless. He needed to know if this was fake or not.

You furrow your eyebrows before realizing his question. You wiped away the tears that fell, trying to stop yourself from grinning. You failed, an amused snort leaving your lips.

“Not,” you answered, truthfully. “Let's just say I was practicing for the after-party.”

Coriolanus nodded, despite his mind being overwhelmed. Was it bad that he thought it was hot how easily you switched faces? And he loved how he could now see through your sweet persona and the real you, his soulmate. He couldn't blame you for being like a snake as he one himself, but he was stunned at how you had fooled him for the past eight years as well.

“Perhaps I should too,” he replied, now with a smile.

“Was that obvious?” You pouted, “I thought my acting had gotten better.”

Coriolanus chuckled, “Oh no. It was impeccable. But you said you were a performer after all. That's how I figured it out.”

You nod in reply. A comfortable silence falls as both of you look all over the Capitol. The sun was shining brightly over the roof and Coriolanus could feel the heat. He took his suit.

“I am glad,” you begin to speak, taking Coriolanus' attention away from the sky. “That you know when I am acting… it makes me feel better that at least you get a show. That you now know… when I am performing or not.”

Coriolanus Snow doesn't know how to reply to that, especially with how his heart skipped a beat from your words.

You grin at him, your shoulder nudging his shoulder. “I am glad to somewhat call you my first real friend, Coriolanus.”

“Why did you come to the roof?” He asked, instead, changing the topic. Too much was changing for him, too soon. He was your friend now? What a… He liked it. He lets himself admit that he liked being your first friend. You were different from your district blood, and you were better than most Academy students too.

“I needed a time out,” you said, “I can't believe they called Arachne a hero” You rolled your eyes, “If she's a hero, Dr. Gaul is a saint and Dean Highbottom is not high.”

He lets out a laugh at your words. “Maybe her gravestone could read, ‘Casualty of cheap laughs.’”

You laugh out loud too, and he wanted to bottle the sound, hide it from the world. Because who else was deserving of your laughter if not him?

“Come on,” he said, his hand holding your arm before it slid down to hold your hand. He barely hides the pathetic sound that escaped when you interlocked his fingers with yours. Both of you acknowledge something to each other.

“We need to head to the interview soon.”

NEXT PART

[vindicated-truth]

It's bittersweet, the way Dongsik has finally arrested his sister's killer.

Once upon a time, he once imagined it to be sweet vindication. He might have imagined it to be a sense of triumph, even as it could never make up for the gaping, gnawing loss of Yuyeon's bright presence in his life—his true other half.

Once upon a time, there would have been immense satisfaction over triumphing over evil.

Until he sees the son of his sister's killer sacrificing himself. Taking the gun from him. Shielding him. Taking a shot for him.

It's why when Dongsik finally clasps those handcuffs over Han Kihwan's wrists, his face isn't one of triumph or vindication.

His face in that moment is one of heartbreak. Because in order to bring justice to his sister, he has to inevitably hurt Han Joowon.

And it wouldn't have mattered if Han Joowon didn't matter to him.

But he did.

It would've been so, so much easier to feel that sense of satisfaction in seeing Han Kihwan behind bars, if only his son, like him, was also evil. If his son, like him, was not a good man.

But he was.

And that is the most devastating realization of all, in the end, for Dongsik—that there are no winners in this battle. There is no true winner in any war.

There is only heartbreak, and necessary sacrifice, in order for justice to be served.

Because evil does not exist in a vacuum. There will always, always be collateral damage when you defeat it.

And perhaps in the end, that is why Dongsik had to make that choice. For his true other half, for his twin, for his sister, it is necessary to sacrifice Han Joowon.

But perhaps there is also a sense of relief there too, clear in the shock on his face, when Han Joowon shot at his own father—coldly, calmly, the Han bloodline clearly running through his veins, too.

There is that shocked relief that perhaps Dongsik need not worry about sacrificing Han Joowon for Lee Yuyeon—because Han Joowon can and will survive it.

That's the relief Dongsik has, in the end: that he does not need to feel guilty about doing what is right.

Because the sweet irony of it all is: Han Joowon himself will never forgive Dongsik if he did not choose to do what is right.

And that is the bittersweetness of it, the full circle moment of that mutual exchange of sacrifice.

Because in order to make things right for Han Joowon, too—Dongsik has to sacrifice himself.

To surrender to the man he ruined.

[deancashorrorfest]

We're Baaack... And Bigger than Ever

Come one, come all to the third year of Dean🔪Cas Horrorfest! We've got ghouls and gore, gays and theys! Cannibalism as far as the eye can see! Truly a feast for the senses.

This year I tasked these horrific creatures with a reverse round and they really ate the competition. Below the cut, you'll find things beyond any human comprehension.. Viewer beware, you're in for a scare.

Any Way That You Want Me | M | 10,455 It should have been a cake walk. Get in, investigate the haunted house, and figure out where to dig, salt and burn. But when Cas somehow gets cursed - trapped inside the house's mirrors - Dean finds himself in a race against time. Each day Cas' strength is fading. It's up to Dean to find a solution by digging through the house and the belongings of the former owner.

What he uncovers in the house may change everything. Link to Fic | Link to Art Wicked Muse | E | 15,673 Castiel Novak is a solitary creature. Corporate engineer by day, serial killer by night, and always by himself. Just the way he likes it. Until a new coworker's long, bowed legs, green eyes, and crooked smile catch his eye. He's certain he'll have to kill Dean, at first. He can't afford distractions, living the double life that he does. When the time comes, though, he just can't bring himself to do it. Artistic inspiration, long dormant in Castiel's life, replaces murderous intent.  As his obsession grows, so too does a newfound wish that he could share the deepest, darkest depths of himself with Dean. That Dean would understand, would accept, would even celebrate Castiel's bloody inclinations. But that's absurd. Unthinkable. Dean isn't like that. Is he? Link to Fic | Link to Art Herbicidal | T | 8,249 Dean is settled. His relationship with Cas is going strong, he has a place to call home, and his biggest problems are run-of-the-mill cases and unruly teenagers who think they know everything there is to hunting. Hell, he even plays with the thought of retiring. But then something starts killing people left and right in Lebanon, and Dean and Cas are faced with a case and a foe they have no idea what to do about. Link to Fic | Link to Art Oubliettes of Stone and Sky | T | 9,214 Dean is trying to sacrifice himself for his country like any good king would, and Cas has been sent to stop him. Cas has to keep Dean hostage while journeying through a dust storm and a castle with a mummy inside. Dean is waiting for the chance to escape--and Cas is ready to capture him again. Link to Fic | Link to Art Angel in the Ivory Castle | G | 20,074

Castiel's family is royalty in another world that has lived in peace for many years until recently a darkness has started to spread which has slowly overtaken the beautiful green fields they'd once walk through. Creatures have become corrupted, twisted and turned into something grotesque. Castiel was sent to the other world to find the being he is bonded to in which it's been rumored to save their world but in reality they know what's left doesn't look worth the risk. Link to Fic | Link to Art

Dean and Castiel vs. Evil | E | 31,451

Castiel is trying to survive a camping trip in the Appalachians with his annoying fraternity brothers. At a nearby cabin, Dean is trying to clean up the remains of his and Sam’s recent vamp hunt. Both Dean and Castiel wouldn’t mind exploring their mutual attraction.

But there’s a problem: due to a series of misunderstandings, Castiel’s friends are convinced that Dean and Sam are serial killers. The fact that Castiel's friends keep dying in increasingly grisly ways doesn't help matters. Is there really a killer on the loose? And will Dean and Cas ever manage to score some alone time? Link to Fic | Link to Art

Vacation Interrupted | M | 9,158 Dean can’t remember the last time he took a vacation. Fighting monsters is basically all he’s ever known. They’ve defeated Chuck and Dean finally grew a pair and confessed his feelings and Cas reciprocated. The two of them, along with Sam and Eileen, decide to dip their toes in the sand and take a vacation since the world is relatively monster free. Or at least they thought it was until a Kraken decided to ruin their vacation and start killing people, almost taking Dean for its next victim if Castiel didn’t rescue him in time. So much for a relaxing vacation. Link to Fic | Link to Art Communion | E | 53,639

Few areas in the world are subject to the polar night phenomenon, a period where the sun never rises above the horizon.

When Castiel Novak reaches out to the Winchesters for help, convinced that vampires are about to descend upon one such town during the upcoming polar night, the boys head up to Point Hollow, Alaska to clear the nest before night falls.

What was meant to be a three-day stay devolves into sixty-five days of bloodshed and darkness as resources dwindle and bodies start dropping. Overwhelmed by the calculated organization of the creatures and the size of their nest, it quickly becomes clear that there’s more to the ‘vampires’ than initially seemed.

They’re cunning, they’re ancient, and they’re powerful—and they’ll stop at nothing to be satisfied. But between the starving people and starving creatures, Dean manages to find solace in Castiel—who just might be holding a secret himself. A secret that is key to destroying the creatures and their master, once and for all. Link to Fic | Link to Art Romancing the Exit Sign | E | 125,370

A teenage boy is left to die in a shallow grave and something slithers into his bones. Devotees of an ancient god work to bring Her into the world, as with equivalent fanaticism, a man on a mission picks them off one by one. A lonesome drifter crosses paths with a mysterious stranger and finds himself inexorably drawn into the middle of it all.

Dean Winchester is adrift. All he has is his car, the next hunt, and a conversation he doesn’t want to have waiting for him in California. Then a case involving mangled bodies washing up on shore in an idyllic lakeside community puts him on the trail of a man calling himself Castiel, and the dangerous web he’s entangled in. Dean is used to living in a world of monsters, but the End of Days is a little out of his wheelhouse. Especially when his only ally is determined to keep his secrets behind his teeth, even as they draw closer together. Still, he intends to see things through, no matter how dark the path ahead gets.

It’s either that, or call his brother. Link to Fic | Link to Art Survivalism | E | 14,067

Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.

Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.

He has never been so hungry. Link to Fic | Link to Art

These Hallways Echo | M | 10,290 Loneliness. Previously, Dean Winchester had thought he knew the definition of the word, the way it felt to be isolated. That was wishful thinking. It’s here and now, in these never-ending corridors of winding walls and this damn carpet with the nauseating pattern, where Dean discovers the true meaning of being alone. Solitary. Detached. The man hears ghosts, echoes of conversations long since over, but there’s nobody for him to speak to. Dean sees the phantoms of late vacationers stepping through doorways or occupying beds but he can never get anybody’s attention. No one stops to hear him. Not a single soul has looked him in the eye or acknowledged that he, too, is trapped here. Caught in this unending hallway where time means nothing and waiting for tomorrow is fruitless. Link to Fic | Link to Art Ground Control to Major Tom | E | 21,506 Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He is thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment? Link to Fic | Link to Art The Forgotten Halls | T | 9,337 A long time from now — maybe decades, maybe centuries — there are only the Halls, and the Entity, and the Angel. They exist in harmony, mostly. When an outsider changes their routine, a routine so long-standing that the Angel remembers nothing that had come before it, the disturbance will threaten the fabric of their entire universe. Link to Fic | Link to Art It's Got A Death Curse | E | 19,101 Dean and his friends have been coming to Camp Garrison for years, first as campers, then as counselors. Their last summer together kicks off with a bang when a figure from their dark past reappears and buried secrets from a near-forgotten tragedy threaten to resurface. It only gets worse when a storm rolls in, and the night becomes a gory fight for survival. The camp may not have electricity, but it's got a death curse. Link to Fic | Link to Art ghost, zero, suitcase & the moon | M | 19,433

Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.

He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time. Link to Fic | Link to Art Rosewood | T | 5,099

Dean believes a lot of things.

He believes the manner of his death was decided by his father the very night that yellow-eyed demon ripped his mom away from him.

He believes he’ll die, broken and bloody and alone on a hunt, and anything Cas does only delays the inevitable.

He believes he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Dean knows Cas will do it anyway.

Months after Mrs. Butters leaves the bunker, intent on finding a home of her own, a peaceful section of pines set deep into the American heartland becomes anything but. Haunted by Purgatory at every turn, and forced to confront the consequences of decades of torture and abandonment at the hands of his predecessors, Dean and Cas set off to solve a string of disappearances in the forest where they stumble across a familiar face -- and an all-too-familiar feeling. Link to Fic | Link to Art MAW | M | 8,575

The world is full of sorrow, of sadness, of pain. The people within it deserve better than what Castiel's father gave them. They deserve peace and contentment, security and love. They deserve a New World.

And there is no safer place than inside Castiel. Link to Fic | Link to Art hold my hand until it bleeds | E | TBD The five years that Alistair did nothing but beat him. The feeling of no longer having skin. The feeling of no longer having flesh. The feeling of being nothing but bone and blood. Link to Fic | Link to Art The Possession of Jimmy Novak | E | 16,952

Dean Winchester was surprised to learn that when his father died, he left behind a beautiful house in the suburbs of Illinois, complete with neighbors who welcomed the newly arrived Dean with casseroles and invitations to join them at church.

It all seemed so very normal.

But there was something about Jimmy Novak that Dean couldn’t put his finger on, something not normal, and when Dean became an unwitting accomplice to Jimmy’s crime he discovered the horrifying truth:

That wasn't Jimmy Novak. Link to Fic | Link to Art It Will Come Back | E | 13,164

Senior Special Agent Castiel Novak and Special Agent Dean Winchester are partners within the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division. For the past several months, they've been investigating a string of murders, all resulting in cold-cases from what they believe to be the same killer. Despite being one of the best minds in his division, Castiel can't find a link between cases, and it's driving him to his wits' end.

As the cases begin to pile up, Castiel's confidence plummets, the chances of catching the killer are growing smaller, and other members of the division are beginning to contribute to Castiel's decreasing faith in his detective skills. As time goes on, Dean is there to help Castiel, but a final case relating to a horror film might be the start of Castiel's unraveling. Link to Fic | Link to Art Someone to Punish Me | E | TBD

Dean's chasing another lead for his old man, this time ending up in Maine, searching for the town of Silent Hill. Residents of nearby Cushing tell him to stop looking, but he can't help it. He's got a job to do, after all. After a resident finally points him in the right direction, Dean finds his way up the mountain to Silent Hill. But there's so much more to the town than John let on. And so much more that Dean needs to learn about himself. Link to Fic (TBD) | Link to Art 1 | Link to Art 2 Night Shift | E | 67, 758

As far as job opportunities go, replacing the previous night guard of fifty years at the Nebraska Museum of Natural History wasn't Dean's first choice, but a job was a job. Especially considering he got fired from his last job and was in need of the money. However, said job proves to be more difficult than described.

Faced with strange events revolving around one of the exhibits he was tasked with guarding, an angel statue that was more than what it seemed to be, he must unravel the mysteries that arise as a result. Why did the angel statue come to life each night? Why did an unknown number keep messaging him the same sequence of numbers? It was a race against the clock and Dean's dwindling sanity to find answers to these mysteries. Link to Fic | Link to Art A Word in the Mists | M | 23,968

Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.

Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around... if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.

Saving lives is what he does. But he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with. Link to Fic | Link to Art Terror As Sharp As Pain | M | 10,815 After Jack brings Cas back from the Empty, everything almost returns to normal. Cas moves into The Bunker, they go back to hunting, and they do not talk about his confession. With the number of hunts dwindling, Team Free Will takes up a case in Derry, Maine, a town terrorized every 27 years by disappearances and violent deaths. Even though the cycle isn't due to repeat for another 19 years, they will have to face fear itself to free the town. Link to Fic | Link to Art no spill blood. | M | 7,217

A witch hunt becomes far more than that when Dean rescues an unassuming, innocent, harmless stranger. But Castiel is more than he seems, and as the lines of their unlikely connection blur, so does the truth. Revenge, plain and simple. Surviving to see it through, not so simple. Link to Fic | Link to Art You can find the complete collection over on Ao3! Happy Haunting, folks! See you next Halloween 👻🎃🤡

[shangqinghuasbiggestfan]

yuu great seven au

In this au, imagine everything like it always is. Yuuta, yuuna, yuuya whoever you want. They spawn into this new world, unable to use magic, and are put into an old dorm alone with the adorable fire breathing cat called grim. They get into trouble with riddle. 

But their dreams are different. Instead of just watching what goes on with Alice and the queen of hearts from the sidelines, they’re there, interacting with the queen. The queen is understanding and humble, but is still quick to get mad, the dreams show a whole other side of the queen. Her conflict with her sister, the white queen; her pride in her croquet skills; and, the most important, the fact that she can be understanding. That she was not only a monster ours tyrant. Instead, it showed that she was complex, she was neither black nor white, but grey. She was shown as human.

And soon later, the queen starts talking to Yuuta directly. Yuu could hear the great ladies voice during the day, as she talks about riddle and how similar to her he is. She quite likes riddle. But, yuu is her vessel, and she is extremely fond of them.

During the overblot with riddle, Yuu is unable to do anything to help. All he can do, is help everyone keep level headed. He can direct them were to hit. And then something happens. The queen is heard, and Yuuta is given her blessing to use her power. So he does, and they defeat the overblot.

The most peculiar part?

No one can remember how riddle was defeated. They all put together the small parts of their memory, and come up with the idea that Yuuta was directing them in what to do, and most likely, one of them hit the final blow. This, they assume is deuce, as he was the last one seen to hit riddle.

Yuuta smiles and agrees as they say so.

This happens again. And again. And again. Scar, Ursula, jafar, the evil queen, hades, and lastly maleficent. They slowly help out yuu, and each time Yuu is able to use their power.

Only one person knows what’s going one. Malleus had seen the casts of ancient magic during the sdc. No one there could have done it, not even him. After book 6, malleus confirms it. His child of man has power. As he pours youth into vil once more, he can faintly see the outline of 6 people behind them (maleficent isn’t involved yet). The child of man, of course!

The only one who was tied directly to all the overblots. They was harnessing the power of the great seven.

Knowing this also leads to malleus’ overblot in book 7. If yuu has truly been harnessing the power of the seven, then.. along with the mirror, don’t they have the power to bring themself home? 

Doesn’t that mean they’re going to leave? Why does everyone leave him?

This can also help during the dreams. The truth is slowly revealed, as they cross into dreams.

And in the end yuu goes home. The spirits of the seven are annoyed, wishing for yuu to stay in their home, and make it their (yuu’s)own home. Yuu.. is alone in their own world. No one noticed them being gone. They never bothered making friendships, specifically so they don’t fight. Their parents might be worried, but also.. maybe not.

Crowley wishes for yuu to stay. Specifically because of the fact that he has the spirits of the great seven, and like, that is absolutely a reason for him to stay.

Yuu.. goes home. Everyone wishes them a good bye, and the memories stay with them forever. The next year, yuu is dropped into twst again. 

Time for him to take his place as a second year.

(Imagine this as an ending similar to TOH. He travels between the two worlds, using his own version of the mirror in his room, kind of similar to how Alice did in Alice and the looking glass- just a lot more times)