#for literally anyone she could turn into a sheep

[wildskissed]

open to: m/f/nb suggested connection: literally anyone

Her body is still thrumming with wild magic as she approaches the other, a look of APPREHENSION on her face as she moves. This was of course her fault, and she listens as the other sits there breathing. After all, it's not everyday that you handle an issue with magic and it backfires a bit, and while everything is back to normal, it wasn't normal there for a moment or two.

"I take it this is the first time you've ever been turned into a sheep accidentally?"

[theminecraftbee]

The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.

"So," he says, finally.

"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–

"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.

"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.

"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.

"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.

"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.

"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.

"It was real," Xisuma says.

The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!

"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"

"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"

"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"

"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.

"No?" Xisuma says.

"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"

"Yes," Zedaph says.

"No," Xisuma says.

"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"

"Please don't," Zedaph says.

"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.

"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."

"That was ominous?" Joe says.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."

"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.

"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.

"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.

"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.

"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.

"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.

Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.

Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.

Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!

"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"

"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."

"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.

"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.

"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"

"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."

"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.

"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.

"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.

[eetherealgoddess]

Can you make a fem reader whose is a martial artist with a yan bonten but she doesn’t let them get her easily

ik it's been a while y'all but don't worry bc i will be getting through your requests!!

idk much about martial arts so I’m just gonna do my best with the fighting scene. hope you enjoy!

also, why am i more inclined to write when i’m high 😩

ꨄFight For Your Lifeꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’ve been on the run from your childhood friends❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Fight For Your Life

The platforms of your shoes slap against the wet concrete, puddles of water splashing as you ignore the rain falling on your skin. Your bloody clothes hugging against your body uncomfortably as the street lights glow amongst the dark sky, the empty buildings sitting under as you run past with squinted eyes. Your lips are apart as you take in quick breaths, though you tried to keep the panting steady. The adrenaline running through your veins made it easier to ignore the goosebumps caused by the cold air hitting your dermis and the red liquid running down your nose.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you ran from your totaled car. It was amazing how you slipped away, not expecting the driver of the car to have died on impact. You knew exactly who sent the sheep, snarling as you remember the men you couldn’t seem to escape for long. Although you made it far enough to stay in a motel a great distance away from Japan, you still had a long way to go.

I’m so tired of this shit.

It’s frustrating having to travel from place to place, continuously spending a limited amount of money just to be free from the grasp of the yakuza. If you would’ve known that you would be abducted as an adult by your childhood friends who disappeared without any warning, you wouldn’t have become close to them in the first place. To have been so devoted to them and the rest of the gang, only for them to abandon you and reappear without warning, snatching you up and treating you as property rather than a person, murdering most of your loved ones without a care of how that could affect you. Not only is the situation painful but demeaning. How could they treat you like that? No explanation for the disappearance nor the behavior, not that you needed it. Who they are now explains everything you need to know.

Ignoring the tightness of your chest became harder as you slowed your pace, halting your movements before bending over, hands on your knees. You gripped the fabric of your pants as your eyes closed, head dropping as you struggled to steady your breathing. Your tears of frustration mix with the droplets of rain, finally lifting your body and rubbing your sleeve against your eyes, only for the moisture to return.

Your eyes widen as bright lights flash behind you before you swiftly turn your body to face the car speeding toward you. The loud engine roars as the vehicle darts down the hill through the fog. You search around your surroundings for a good hiding spot amongst the empty stores. You huff before running behind a structure closest to you. You find a dumpster, cursing as you open it and climb in, ignoring your discomfort for bacteria as you cover your nose and close yourself into the darkness, praying to not feel anything crawling on you as you rub your face with both hands, smearing the blood from your nose.

You breathe in through your nose and release from your mouth, ignoring the overwhelming stench as you listen for anyone close. The pouring rain made it difficult to hear any footsteps if someone were to walk near. You closed your eyes as you pant into your cupped hands quietly. You patiently stay in your spot for what feels like a while, planning to hide in the dumpster all night long if you have to. The phone you bought when you ran from Bonten was lost in the wreck, hidden behind the broken machinery and shattered glass so you had no way to contact anyone to help, not that you knew anyone. You also didn’t know if the police would help you anyway considering Bonten has some of them wrapped around their fingers.

The top of the dumpster is snatched open, rain pouring as the sound of your screaming covers the droplets landing on the full sacks of trash. You struggle against the hold on your wrist as you’re yanked out of the hiding place, feet meeting the ground.

“The more you struggle the harder this will be for you!” The man growled, attempting to hold you in place. When he pulls you toward him with his grip tightening, you straighten your posture before pulling your head back and slamming it against his forehead causing him to release you as he grabs his head in pain. Running on nothing but adrenaline, you dash away from the man as you ignore the throbbing ache of your head, only to run in the direction of two more men speeding towards you.

“Shit!” You hiss before turning back around.

“Get her idiot or it’ll be our asses!” One of the men exclaimed on his way toward you as he faced the original male whose face is still scrunched in pain.

Just as you were about to pass the man who attacked you, he reached for you in which you dodged before continuing to make your escape. Before you could succeed, you are snatched by the collar of your top and yanked back. You gasp as you feel the sting from the sudden pressure on your neck, though your shock doesn’t last long.

“Gotcha you bit-!” He grunts and bends over, releasing you in the process when you elbow his stomach with as much strength as you could muster, so much so you release your own throated shriek. Before you could run the next man comes forth, pulling his arm back before landing a punch on your cheek. Your face hangs to the side in reflex as your palm immediately meets your cheek, eyes wide as you wince in pain.

Before he could make another move, you use your fist to back hand the man’s face before landing a punch on his cheek with the same arm, his body wobbling back as he tries to keep balance. You shove him just as the third male comes to ambush you from the side, both of you landing painfully on the ground with you at the bottom. The puddle of water mixed with dirt and grime splashes as you thrash in his hold as he grasps your wrists and forces them next to your head, squeezing as you howl in agony.

Seeing an opening all the while your face is scrunched with fresh blood oozing down your cheek, you take the opportunity to knee the man’s midsection. His eyes widen as his grip loosens, mouth hanging open with a silent scream. You make eye contact before shoving him off of you. Before you can pick yourself up, the original man places the platform of his shoe on your stomach before pressing down hard. Your nails claw at his covered ankles as he glares down at you with a smirk.

“Oh? What is this?” You watch as the color drains from the man’s face. Your own eyes widen at the realization that you had just been caught.

Your head slowly turns to the side, your own eyes meeting two pairs of purple orbs. A certain mullet haired man tsked as he stood in place, flicking the cigarette butt from his fingers before lifting the black gun held by his other hand. A blaring shot echoed in the air, your eyelids met just in time before the red liquid could splatter in your eyes.

As a result, a weight was lifted off of your stomach as you opened your eyes, watching as the other two men had an expression of bewilderment, freezing in their spots as they watched the bloody corpse drop to the ground, pieces of the brain and skull lying all around the wet ground. You stare at the situation with wide eyes as you slowly sit up, leaning on your trembling arms as you watch both males take a step back with their hands in surrender.

“Come on boys, don’t cower on us now.” The tall man says, running his fingers through his short streaked hair, a sly smile on his face as his other hand holds the black umbrella both him and his brother stood under.

“Pathetic.” Rin states before he turns on his heel, slowly walking away from the scene, Ran follows alongside. They don’t give you another glance.

Escaping your trance, you went to jump up, only for your arms to be grabbed by the two men. You thrash as your feet lifts from the ground, your biceps slightly sliding against their wet hands as the rain continues pouring. You didn’t stop your struggle even when nearing the familiar black suv that caused your heart beat to accelerate. Sweat mixed with the droplets sliding against your forehead as the pressure in your chest became more prominent the closer you got to your entrapment. You pull your arms with all your might against the growling males’ holds, attempting to use your feet to kick them, only for them to dodge and grips tighten.

“Don’t do this.” You plead, bargaining for your freedom.

“We got no choice, lady.” The guy on your left responded.

“You have to have a wife or daughter or something, guys! Please!” Your eyes burn with moisture caused by frustration, your eyebrows furrow as you glance between the men who hold you.

“Shut up!” The guy on your right hissed. “We’re doing this to keep them safe. Your well being is worth nothing to us so just accept your fate.”

Your head hangs low as you’re dragged to the car, the tinted window rolling down as a blur of white reaches your peripheral, right before the men holding you halt in front of the vehicle. You hear footsteps before a tight grip reaches your chin, forcing you to meet golden eyes that seem to glow through the rainy night. A blonde strand hanging on the left side of his face, the rest of his black locks pulled back in a messy ponytail. His empty orbs bore into you as you seem to internally cower from the strange expression.

Your discomfort increases as time goes on, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement masking the silence as you continue to hold eye contact. The corners of his lips curve upward before you can comprehend his next move. The tight grip released on your left arm before you hear a thud against the ground. Your eyes widened as you eye the injured male, turning your gaze back to the man who gives a sheepish smile, rubbing his bruised knuckles as he chuckled.

“You really know how to make a guy angry, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck before looking to the side as his smile dropped. “Running off like that wasn’t cool.”

You scoff before shaking your head angrily. You couldn’t believe his deflecting. They treat you like a pet. It’s degrading and abusive. The lack of respect as close as they were before is disgusting. Before you could respond, the cocking of a gun snatched your attention away from the tiger tattooed male in front of you and towards a certain pink haired man who now stood outside of the car. The barrel of his gun aimed right at your torso, your body tightening as you lose your breath.

His scars stretch as he snarls shifting his aim quickly before pulling the trigger. A loud shot rings out, echoing throughout the empty street. Your breathing slows down as the pounding of your heart is the only sound you can hear, followed by a ringing in your ears as the final grip releases you to the ground. The water pellets fall on your face as you feel pressure on your front as you stare at the sky, a warm liquid forming under your torso as your lips hang slightly apart.

You barely hear the car doors opening as your hearing goes in and out, five figures hovering over you as they observe your figure. Crouching down closest to your face, the platinum haired male who gives you an expression of emptiness uses a hand to caress the left side of your face, thumb tracing your temple. He leans over, his warm breath connecting with your ear.

“If you won’t let me have you, death will.”

As your hearing comes back and vision clears you watch as the men with solemn gazes turn and leave your vicinity. Mikey pulls back before picking himself up and following his men. You listen as you hear footsteps fade and the car doors open and close. The engine roars before they speed away, leaving you on the wet street.

You were in slight shock considering you couldn’t believe you had just been shot. You knew they were capable of it but the thought of yourself being murdered is unsettling. You stay on the ground for a moment, relieving yourself of the panic attack you just had before you slowly sit up and eye your surroundings. Seeing nobody in the area, you look down and pull your shirt up, grabbing the busted sack that once held fake blood from your cushioned vest. Staring at the sack you took a deep breath before releasing.

This is perfect because now they think I’m dead.

Although you were surprised about the gunshot, you wore a bulletproof vest, along with the fake blood sacks since you had escaped because you knew that there was a chance you might die trying to leave them. Your hands couldn’t help the trembling as you eyed the bloody puddle under you. Seeming to escape the trance, you hopped up from your seat and began to walk in the opposite direction from where you came.

The car’s atmosphere was thick with tension and grief. Although all the men held the same stoic and zoned out expression, their emotions were going haywire with their decision to kill you. Do they regret it? No. They don’t regret it as your punishment nor as a blockage for you to be able to move on without them. Do they wish you had just listened so it wouldn’t come to this? Indeed. Kazutora wipes the stray tear as his head turns to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back in his seat with crossed arms and a crossed leg. Sanzu slowly cleans the gun used to take your life, wiping in slow yet rough strokes, all the while trying to focus on everything but the memory of your body landing on the ground. Now that his anger was gone, he lacked the adrenaline he had originally.

The Haitani brothers sit next to each other in the back of the black suv, Ran smoking a cigar with a tired expression as well as Rin removing a flask from his suit’s jacket and throwing his head back for a good sip. Mikey sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing through the windshield with nothing but an empty void filling the inside of his chest. He feels nothing and everything at the same time. You used to be so close to all of them. It was a shame but he knew that he couldn’t allow you to live without him. You chose this. This is your fault.

A sudden ringing interrupts everyone as Mikey grabs the phone and hands it to Kakucho who uses one hand to direct the wheel.

“Hello?”

“You what?!”

Everyone’s eyebrows furrow at his reaction. He lowers the phone before handing it to Mikey with a concerned expression. Mikey sets the phone on his ear as he listens to the other person.

“Boss, her body is gone. She’s nowhere to be found.” Kokonoi says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the busted sack. Using a gloved hand to pick it up before it hangs from his fingers and the remaining liquid leaks.

“I have a feeling she faked her death and has escaped.”

Mikey stares ahead with a more focused expression, his eyes slightly wider than usual as he narrows his gaze.

“Find her, now.”

You eye the two lines with wide eyes. Your hands tremble as your fingers barely hold up the test.

“I-I’m pregnant?!” You hiss. You hop from the toilet and slam open the stall door, tossing it into the trash before walking to the sink and recollecting your memory as you try to search for how this could’ve happened because you genuinely had no remembrance of any sexual encounter in the last few months.

“I-I can’t feel…” The tingling in your limbs causes them to limp as you attempt to move your body around, though hands around your wrists prevent you from budging. Legs sit in between yours as the person on top of you leans over to your ear.

“How much of a dosage did you give her this time, Sanzu?” Kazutora asks before he licks a slow trail from your neck to your ear. You squirm under him as you try to find an escape before your body slightly shuts down and you become still as your eyes become heavier.

“G-guys…” You whisper, trying to come back to reality as you feel him adjust on top of you. Your mouth hangs open in a silent grunt as you feel a firm pressure enter your vagina.

“Enough.” The blue eyed male responds while rubbing his thumb along your forehead, taking in your scrunched nosed expression as Kazutora slowly thrusts into you.

“Fuck.” He whispers as he pressed his cock against your cervix, holding it there as his hands snake to the back of your head and neck, squeezing before he pulls his hips back to repeat the same process.

You shut your eyes tight as the girth stretches you, a stinging sensation surrounding your core before your pussy engulfs his cock perfectly. The pain switched to a conflicting pleasure that your own drugged body couldn’t handle. Your head falls back as Sanzu leans over and pulls you into a heated kiss, while Kazutora holds you tightly, his head on the other side of your neck as he accelerates his pace, hips rocking in a steady rhythm purposefully aiming deep against your g-spot.

Ran watched the display to the side with his brother, enjoying the show as they patiently waited for their turn with Bonten’s signature doll. He man - spreads while sitting with his arms resting against the top of the sofa, one arm slightly behind Rin who has his arms crossed. Both brothers ignore their erections as their pants become tighter, listening to the sounds you make as well as the juices colliding.

Mikey sits in a chair, similar to a throne next to the sofa, eyeing the session with his legs spread, leaning over to where his arms rest on his legs. From this angle, you both make eye contact when Sanzu pulls back.

“P-please stop!” You whine out as tears fall, hoping for Mikey to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the only response you get are Sanzu’s thumbs smearing your tears and groaning from Kazutora in your ear.

Suddenly, he stops his thrusting and pulls back. He sets your legs on his shoulders as he looks down at you with a glazed over expression, red covering his face along with sweat as he repositions himself before leaning over your thighs and thrusting hard. His pace accelerates once more as he brings you both closer to your release. His forehead rests on yours as he thrusts his hips rhythmically against you. His cock slides in and nearly out of your walls as the head kisses your g-spot repeatedly.

“You're taking his cock so well, sweet girl.” The pink haired male whispers against your ear before nibbling the lobe, his hand sliding on your chest towards your neck before circling his fingers around the surface and slightly squeezing. The stimulation becomes too much, the sensation overwhelming as it mixes with the effects of the drug. Your hips meet his deep thrusts as you cry out.

“So. *thrust* Fucking. *thrust* Good, baby.” Kazutora’s raspy soft spoken words meet your ear as his eyes bore into yours. Biting his lip, he watches as your hands meet his chest as his grip tightens on your legs, along with the thrusts forcing you into having a violent orgasm along with sending him into his own as he moans out your name and his hips move sloppily, riding out both of your orgasms as sweat drips from your skin.

Your hand shakily reached your mouth as you recall when they would drug you up and proceed with sexual acts against your will. You have no clue which of them would even be the father. You knew you had to figure something out but you just didn’t know what. You quickly leave the public restroom and ask to use the cashier’s phone. Once you dial the number, you set it to your ear.

“Draken? C-can you please help me?”

“Ugh, girl come here!” You sigh as you eye the mess left from the little devil.

“What is this?” You question your child, eyeing her golden eyes as you point at the red paint that spilled all over your carpet.

“U-uh, I don’t know mama.” The eight year old responds with a cheeky smile. You shake your head, irritated because of the mess but you breathe out a sigh considering the paint is washable and will be able to be cleaned.

“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” You shake your head as your daughter nods. You chuckle to yourself before stating, “And don’t try to lie to me anymore, I can see right through you.”

Your daughter shrugs before leaving to grab some of the supplies. You couldn’t believe how much she grew to look like Kazutora. It was haunting and hard to deal with at times but she had nothing to do with it so the love for your child was enough distraction from how she was created. Before you could follow and help her, you heard a knock on your door. Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting anyone to have appeared so you ignore it.

Once the knocks stop, the ringing of your phone catches your attention. You snatch the device from your pocket and lift it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say to the unknown number.

“You have something of mine, and I’ve come to get it.” Before you could react, your windows were shattered as you crouched down and covered yourself. Immediately going into action, you run to the storage closet in the hallway to grab your child.

“Mama?” She cries out in surprise at the commotion.

“We have to go now!” You snatched her with one hand and pressed a contact with another.

“D-Draken! They broke i-!” Before you could finish, the phone was knocked out of your hand and you were forced to the ground, releasing your child in the process as she’s snatched by a person you hadn’t wanted to see.

“Awe, you really do have my eyes.” Kazutora says warmly with a smile as he holds your child in his arms, the poor girl crying in confusion and fear.

You're cuffed before you’re forced to stand up and face five of the men you never wanted to see.

“M-Mikey, please! She needs me! Don’t t-take her from me!” You yell in hopelessness, the tears falling uncontrollably as you watch Kazutora caress your daughter’s hair. The leader only stares down at you before turning on his heel and walking away, motioning for the other men to snatch you and follow.

“Wow, Y/n. You know, you really had us fooled.” Rin says as he grabs one arm. Ran stands on the other side and mimics his brother’s hold on the opposite arm.

“It’s silly really. We knew only an hour after you escaped and followed you up until this point.”

“You should be thanking the king for not killing you on the spot.” Sanzu growls with his head turned slightly back to make eye contact with you.

“On the bright side we can all be a family, now.” Kazutora beamed.

Truth be told though they would never say it out loud, they were all thankful that you hadn’t actually died. They found it humorous that you thought you could escape their radar at all. Now having been caught, you could only stare ahead, in hopes that if you comply, you could possibly come up with a plan to safely take your child and completely leave your past behind.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House. 

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob. 

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves. 

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed. 

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious. 

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded. 

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine. 

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts. 

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night. 

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes. 

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around. 

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence. 

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.” 

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.  

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket. 

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side. 

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien. 

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head. 

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.” 

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space. 

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed. 

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold. 

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information. 

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.” 

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.  

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush. 

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air. 

What have I done? 

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both. 

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come. 

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.  

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down. 

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous. 

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?” 

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger. 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words. 

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.” 

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.” 

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.” 

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed. 

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond. 

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.” 

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.” 

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded. 

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

[gargusscp]

When She Was Just-

(More fanfic of @zal-cryptid's Misfits in Toyland comic. Contains size stuff, so reader beware.)

“So you just sit on down, get yourself comfy, and I’ll be right back to start our playdate!”

Easier said than done, Beau thought to herself, squirming on the spot for a decent position on the couch as Dolly flop-skipped out the room, singing a tuneless babble.  If Toyland had one notable disadvantage - once you exhausted the obvious grievances with losing your old life and existing as a plaything for probably all eternity - it was the lack of halfway decent furniture. Chairs and beds made to fit a doll weren’t exactly designed with human comforts in mind.  Little give to their rigid wood and plastic frames, cushioning a sliver-thin strip of foam at best, too often ever so slightly disproportionate for all except one user.  Beau herself could hardly roll half a turn either way in her own bed without risking falling out, let alone find a non-cramped spot on Dolly’s ratty wool sofa.

Granted, Beau took issue with her proportions in nearly all matters.  A porcelain-figurine of a shepherdess, she towered over most other folk in Toyland.  The Barbie doll down the lane claimed she felt no perspective different at twelve inches from her 5’6” human height; Beau, once 4’11”, felt quite the substantial difference at eighteen.  That Barbie girl barely measured to the bottom of Beau’s chest.  Her life as a vanishing slip ended the day she kicked her way from her arrival box and felt the dimensions of her new form , a figurine sculpted for detail over function, garbed in a needlessly voluminous lace gown triple her natural width.  Actions major and minor all the day came with overbearing reminder she was, all told, huge.

Waking in the morning?  Bumps and bonks reaffirming her playset of a home was hastily retro-fitted to just barely accommodate her bulk.  Passing other toys in the public square?  Snickers about her heavy trod and long shadow.   Chatting with friends after a day in the fields?  Oh God, how her voice so easily overwhelms the group.

One such chat started her path to this damnably undersized couch, why oh why won’t her dress gather without bunching and bulging in the small of her back?  “You seem real tense lately, Beau.”  “You spend too much time tending your flock, Beau.”  “I didn’t know you could micromanage sheep.”  They had a point, she did feel wound up, and without any mechanism to blame.  Absolutely nothing to do with her work, they simply didn’t understand how much it meant to her, but a point on the mark is a point on the mark.  Even so, she felt reticent about visiting Dolly when the subject inspired some… less than altogether pure remarks.  “Oh, a playdate with Dolly is just what you need, big girl!”  “Yeah, I hear she’s got the magic touch, pushes all your buttons if you got ‘em.”  “I dunnow, seems more adventurous than Beau’s used to.”

She sulked in her home for some hours after, twiddling the too-small business card in her spindly fingers, torn between offense at their implications and genuine curiosity.  The language Dolly used in advertising her services left anyone a smidgen past pure childhood innocence little room to ignore the barely-hidden meaning.  Chance was right, she generally wouldn’t entertain those sorta transactions.  On the other hand (flicking the card from one to the other), despite the crude jokes around “playing with Dolly,” the ragdoll seemed plenty friendly whenever Beau had occasion for brief exchanges to and from work, and those who did partake never so much as hinted at anything untoward.  Just the surface-level meaning any halfway literate could take from the text.

Which posed some trouble when Beau hoped the rumors were true.  Knew her frustrations ran deeper than simply too much time in the Arctic sun standing over sheep who, strictly speaking, needed no herding.  Wanted to come right out and ask for the weirdest sort of help resolving her deepest set issue with life in Toyland.  Yet if she guessed wrong, if Dolly’s play sessions were half so wholesome as suspected, there’d be zero chance of looking her straight in the button eye for a long time coming.  Beau felt flushed, but her skin remained its neutral painted shade as she fiddled and twiddled, thinking long into the night.

After a week’s protracted thought, Beau had worked a free afternoon into her schedule, left a note on Dolly’s doorstep announcing her visit and available hours, spent a sleepless night cursing the inventor of packing foam, and squeezed into Dolly’s residence at the appointed time.  The way she figured, best to play it cool, wend her way to the point roundabout as she can manage, and hope against hope Dolly gets the idea, and moreover, approves.  If not… well, running away isn’t exactly difficult at her size.  Though she may crack a doorframe or two in the rush.

So she sat, or rather shifted and bounced in vain with sitting a fleeting incidental matter, trying to distract herself from a welling panic in her breast by focusing on the details of Dolly’s foyer.  No need to run if she busied her eyes studying the cardboard cutout of a flame in the fireplace, crayon scribblings of yellows and oranges subtly shifting in a dance implying warmth she could not feel.  Why question her purpose in coming here when she could examine the conversation pieces on the coffee table, seemingly alphabet blocks with notably peeling paint and assorted accessories from mismatched doll lines chipped in odd places?  Oh God, this was a bad idea, but don’t think about that, think about the imitation-wood wallpaper, or the paper-printout throw rug in the corner, or the approaching sound of rags on smoothed balsa wood!

Beau templed her hands over her face, pinching her nose so hard she risked shattering it and index fingers alike.  You can do this, she thought, screwing her eyes shut.  Just ask like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Alrighty!  I’m… ready!  How ‘bout… you?”

She blinked, turned, and looked down.  Dolly shuffled backwards through the entryway, dragging a gallon-size ziplock full to bursting with cotton balls in her wake.  “Sorry I took my time!  Had to think’ve… something we could use for… sheep!” she beamed.  “Didn’t… phew… didn’t want to ask yours to come in!  Gotta keep things private, y’know!”

Funny the things you notice when forcing your thoughts away from undesired conclusions.  As Beau sat ramrod stiff, hands still hovering before her mouth, her gaze darted all over Dolly, taking in aspects of her person as substitute for the chant oh, Oh no, oh no no no, she really does just want to play at counting sheep, this is bad, get out, abort, abort!  The polished button eyes which twisted about and pressed on her face ever so slightly to distort the surrounding area into expressions.  The rosy patch circles on her cheeks Beau swore sometimes grew and shrank in size with Dolly’s mood.  The faded candystripe pattern of her burlap dress - shorter than her usual outfit, or just Beau’s imagination?  The… well, the slightness.  Dolly stood somewhat taller than most humanoid toyfolk (if still a few inches shy of Beau’s height), but being a cotton-stuffed ragdoll made her seem so insubstantial.  Hardly any klumphing from her step, a wavering quality to her gestures, so light that the occasional jostle when passing her could knock her several body lengths away.  Not a rigid or heavy thing about her.

“Sooooo…?”

Beau flinched.  She should probably say something.

“I’m… sure they wouldn’t mind, if you asked…”

“Naaaah, don’t be silly!”  Dolly waved off the notion, wrist bouncing every which way.  “I see you in the fields, acting all Miss Bossy Lady with ‘em, hardly having any fun!  All they’d do is get you doing that again!  Sure, if you wanna invite, I won’t say no, but as Toyland’s first ‘n’ best professional playmate, I gotta say you’re better off with THESE sheep today!”

She hefted an armful of cotton balls, cradling them back and forth while bleating, “Baaa!  Baaa!”

Beau coughed.  “Well, you know, I… it’s the right way of doing things.  A shepherd, well… she tends her flock and… makes sure they go where they need to…”

“Plus!”  Dolly scampered over and tugged at Beau’s voluminous dress folds, encouraging her to come over to the “flock.”  “Plus, I’ve heard you talkin’ all the time!  Who could miss it?  You’re usually SUPER confident and forward.  Don’t give anyone a turn until you’re done!  Being all ‘uh’ and ‘err’ and ‘well..’ ain’t like you!  Trust me, if you’re here and being Miss Hem Haw instead of Miss Bossy Lady, you NEED this!”

For her stature and composition, Dolly pulled surprisingly hard, prompting Beau to rise and at least begin hesitantly stepping towards the cotton pile, lest her dress tear under enthusiastic hands.  “Right, but the thing is… I don’t exactly w-”

“So!”  Dolly plopped herself down on the floor, busied beyond hearing with her ideas for the next few hours.  “We got your sheep here, right?  And you’ve got your you, and since you’re the shepherdess, you’re gonna do shepherdess things for them!  EXCEPT!  We aren’t gonna do your boring herding stuff, we’re gonna have fun!  Name the sheep, get to know them, let ‘em scamper around, jump some fences, do some counting, maybe a nap in the middle if it makes us sleepy!”

“Dolly…”

“That’s all for later, though!  What’d you think THIS little sheepie’s name should be?”

“Dolly, may I please say something before we start?”

She wished she still had a tongue to bite.  The request wasn’t meant to come out quite so impatient, barking.  If Dolly minded the sudden shot of aggression, it only evidenced through her face going neutral for a moment or two before breaking back into a wide smile.  “Sure thing!  Whatcha got?”  And then her head lolled to the side, resting angled cross her shoulder in a way Beau always found offputting.  No matter how much she knew this as Dolly’s I’m Listening I’m Hearing Honest pose, the limp stillness in her manner creeped a body out.

With a heavy sigh, Beau gathered her skirts and lowered herself cross-legged to the floor, intent on getting this right.  Steady and honest, she reminded herself, tucking and checking the fabric for comfort.  Wend your way in, give the full picture, keep your head, hope for the best.  Right.  Here goes.

“I am sure you have heard me tell how I came to the island, or at least heard from another who has,” she began, voice low and level as manageable.  “Short, skinny little Beau used to flying under everyone’s notice, suddenly so big a toy she’s practically eight feet tall compared to all the rest.  I am not stupid, I took one look at myself and figured a good rough version of why I came here - and a bit of talking to my neighbors cemented it.  All those years dodging attention, dodging responsibility, shirking duties for increasingly ephemeral reasons until I wasn’t taking proper care of my own health, let alone the people I might have helped if I took a tiny bit of interest in my life?  And now I’m a shepherd in Toyland with a flock waiting?  The message was pretty clear: shape up, adopt this duty, learn some discipline and make some proper commitments for once.”

A pause, to glance at Dolly for response.  Absolutely none, as expected, blank-eyed and still.  When she listens, she does literally nothing else.

“So I did what was expected.  And it helped, it really has, I like being shepherd for the sheep.  I do not know if they’re toyfolk themselves or just extensions for my punishment, but I get up, I tend them however long they need tending, and then I go home.  That is my life, and I think it a good life.  I live on a clock where I let hours slip, I’m assertive where I let others step on me, I’m a responsible person with a point to her life instead of a slacker doormat of no worth or use.  All to say… I just do not think playing cotton ball sheep is what I need here.  My job is playing the person I’m supposed to be, so there is no need to replicate it.  Right?

Expecting Dolly’s continued silence and mentally readying a third leg to her spiel, Beau jolted hard when the ragdoll’s head shot up and said, “Okay!  We don’t gotta play sheep!  What do you wanna play, then?”

With a shudder, Beau steered towards her main point.  “Right.  The reason I came here today… the REASON I came here today is because I have felt one.. one major problem the entire time I have lived here.”  Good Lord, could her speech be more stilted?  “Not something you would expect most to complain about, probably too silly for consideration, I should just g…” She promised herself.  No running until outright rejection.  Say it.  “I do not like… I want… well…”

“Your clothes?  Do you wanna play dress-up?  I’ve got some-”

There go the floodgates.

“I hate being so much taller than everyone!  It’s not just bumping my head and knocking people over and never finding anything in my size, that all sucks but I’m sick of being so BIG overall!  I woke up in my box and I looked around and I thought oh my God, it finally happened!  Because I was always short, right, and I had a THING for it and wanted to be even smaller, smaller than possible, and here I was under two feet and telling myself well, you’re not a person anymore, but you’ve got your dream, that’s something at least.  And then I wander into town and what do you know, they’re all shrimps compared to me, I’m practically a living colossus compared to everyone, and I have to learn how to be responsible and punctual and outward while living in THIS body?  THIS gigantic freak of a thing?  I’m the runt I always fantasized about and I can’t even feel it and it’s just too much and I want.. I want… I…”

Beau could not remotely account how, lacking lungs and all, she winded herself spilling her secret in one prolonged babble.  Regardless mechanics, she sat there on the floor, huffing for breath, fully aware she looked an enormous fool in figurative and literal terms.  Somewhere in her rant, Dolly’s head had lolled to the side again, which gave Beau the impression she could, perhaps, sneak out without further embarrassment.  The other toys sometimes said Dolly’s true self fugued away years ago; maybe if she made the door before Dolly straightened out, she wouldn’t be mis-

“Oh!  Ohhhhhhh!  I get it now!  You wanna play Big Girl/Little Girl!”

-ssssssssssssssssssssssss-

“You be the little girl and I be the big girl, right?”

-sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss-

“I can do that easy!  You shoulda said when we came in, we coulda been at it ages by now!  C’mon, up, up, just gotta use your imagination for this one!”

-sed.  Through mentally sibilating, Beau let Dolly’s mitten-like hands grasp her overlarge yet slender digits and guide the towering shepherdess to her feet, passively swaying on the spot.  From where she stood, she could not possibly imagine how Dolly meant to fulfill the roles as proposed.  Half due to still whirling through panic at her shame being so readily accepted, half due to standing some six inches higher than the doll’s crown.  Gazing through doubled vision at the knots and kinks of black yarn hair, Beau tried to picture Dolly as the taller of the two, and failed as her mind blanked.

“It’s alright!” Dolly piped up, rags still grasping porcelain.  “This is to help you relax, but you gotta do that at least a little to get going!”  She stood there, neck considerably craned and mouth brightly curved until Beau adjusted her stance, an honest effort at playing willing participant rather than shellshocked statue.  “Great!  Now, I’m just gonna…” Dolly shuffled herself back and forth, producing a light scuffing whenever she bumped Beau’s dress. “...and a bit of…” Her head bounced about, hair bobs threatening to shake from their bows.  “...aaaaaaand!”

A rag foot went lightly fwuph upon the floor.  “Hi there, little girl!” she giggled, looking down.  “I’m big girl!”

The air in the room hung still as seconds tip-toed by.  Beau measured her options.  Responding as Dolly clearly expected didn’t feel right.  Walking out ran the risk of Dolly telling someone later.  Screaming felt undignified.  She settled, somewhat reticently, on polite suggestion.

“Uh, Dolly?  I am not entirely sure if you have noticed but… I am… I’m up here?  Would it help if I laid down?  You might look pretty tall then…”

“Huh!”  Dolly kept her eyes fixed firm on the floor between them.  “That’s weird!  I definitely see little girl Beau down there!  She’s sooo tiny!  Hi there, lil’ Beau!”  Her hand waved carelessly about for a few pendulations, until her forehead wrinkled, her arm slowed, and she asked, “Wait… you’ve never played like this before, have you?”

“Well, I might have roleplayed online some in college, but… look, are you sure I should be standing for this?  I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything, but if we’re being open and honest about this, you could try uh… stepping on me to get the point across?”

“Nahhhh, that’s Dommy Mommy, we don’t need to make pretend for that! I mean like… really played!  Like when you’re a kid.  Tried and tried and tried until you actually believed for a little bit!  Here, look, close your eyes and think, ‘I’m real real real real little right now, and Dolly’s suuuuper big,’ and then when I stomp, look up!  Give it a try!”

Features blank and uncomprehending, Beau did as she was told anyhow.  It felt stupid: if she looked up, she might see the poorly painted roof to Dolly’s foyer a few inches from her face, lit by a weak heat lamp behind a fake cardboard fire, standing on cheap balsa wood, but not Dolly.  She was down there, Beau was up here.  At the least, she could humor her host.  So she leaned her head back and set a mental intonation.  I’m small.  I have been small since I got here.  I am like… like a minifig.  Everyone look like mountains.  I need friends to carry me everywhere.  I can’t tend the sheep because they’re practically mattress warehouses compared to me.  That’s me, a pipsqueak, a speck, the smallest girl in Toyland.  And I like it this way.

“Okay!”  One more, Dolly’s foot went fwuph, signaling Beau to open her eyes.  Only this time, several factors shifted radically.

The ceiling, seconds ago so close she might reach to scrape away the peeling paint, now seemed a mile off, details lost in the distance.  A steady crackle sung from the fireplace, which flooded the room with a warmth before sorely lacking.  Those flimsy strips of balsa felt firm and sturdy as proper oaken hardwood.

And Dolly’s stomp made the whole house shake.

Beau stumbled off her feet and hit the ground hard, yet kept staring upward, mouth agape, verbal expression utterly useless to capture the sight before her eyes.  Impossible though it ought’ve been, she now splayed before a great black mound, dust particles still settling round its base.  Another, twin to the first, lay some distance to her right, and from both jutted pillars of pure brown fabric, stitchings the length of Beau’s entire body at quick estimate running along the sides of each into… void.  No, not a void, merely deep shadow; scootching herself back some, Beau noted a ring of alternating off-whites and dulled-reds, which in turn coalesced into candy cane striping drawing her higher, higher, higher.  Past trunklike arms, past a flowered ruff that could drown her home, up to a familiar mouth quirked into a smile, cheek patches glowing more intensely than she’d ever known, button eyes wide, magnified beyond all reason, and trained directly on her.

“There you are, little girl!  Told ya you were down there!  Hee hee!”

Shrank me.  She actually shrank me, Beau thought.  Inching back further for a better view, however, she found her understanding of the situation very quickly challenged via her back striking something.  What, she couldn’t tell, for when she twisted herself about to check she found only the open expanse of the floor, her frame so small as to readily slide under the couch.  Yet, from the scratchy coarseness against her back, tangible even through her considerable layers, Beau knew for a fact she was now pressed firm into Dolly’s sofa.

A deafening coo from above forced her eyes Dollyward again.  “Hey, hey, don’t worry!  Gonna seem a bit weird, but it’s all part of playing pretend!  Long as you and me both think you’re tiny, you actually are, sorta!  Big Beau’s still here, she didn’t go anywhere.  It’s just you’re ALSO Little Beau now, which means I can do-”

Scrabbling for comprehension, Beau experienced two wholly contradictory sensations at once.  In the back of her mind, she dimly perceived Dolly crouching down, scooping both arms underneath Beau, and hefting her up with considerably less difficulty than she handled the far-lighter bag of cotton balls.  In active sight, though, clear as day and solid as anything, she watched helpless as Dolly crouched, gently slid a single mitt towards her, brushed her aboard with the other, and tenderly rose back to her full stature.  The rush of air nearly knocked Beau flat once more, but she held her ground best she could, no matter how much said ground felt like ever-shifting cotton stuffing just beneath a layer of old cloth.  Maybe the existence of proper flooring in top-side reality helped her stay balanced?

Only, no, Dolly didn’t have proper flooring, she lived in a bargain bin dollhouse!  That stuff practically bounced under every step on the way in!

But, if Beau was still standing on flimsy balsa wood, how did she keep her footing s-

No, wrong, she wasn’t even standing, she was in Dolly’s arms.  On Dolly’s palm.  In Dolly’s house, which Dolly now vastly outsized.  Only it wasn’t Dolly who was big; Beau was just very, very small.  Except…

“-THIS!” Dolly triumphed, shaking Beau from her reverie.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” she murmured to herself, irrespective her lack of stomach.

“Well if you WANT to while playing pretend, you can!  Though I wouldn’t like it very much, so please don’t unless you REALLY need to!”

“Okay… okay, okay, alright, so…” Beau did her best to gather her thoughts.  Dolly made this somewhat difficult as her enormous hand hovered nearby, gently prodding the miniature shepherdess to and fro (or at least tapping her regular-sized face for similar effect), though Beau found no will to ask Dolly stop.  With every bump and subsequent stumble, it became marginally easier to tune out what was really happening, stop thinking of it in such terms.  While she could still see and feel the awkward weight lifting job necessary to simulate her palm-bound station, the sink of her feet into the hidden fluff seemed softer, the slight must inherent to ragdolls of Dolly’s vintage permeated deeper, the boom of Dolly’s giggles and the warmth in the room and the sense of having dwindled next to nothing inching towards total believability as her only reality.

“Tiny.  Tiny like I always wanted.”

“Yep!”

“On your hand.  Like some kind of bug.”

“Uh-huh!”

“Except n-”  No, actually.  Beau bit back the words, acceptance and embrace seeming easier than interrogating denial.  If she pushed too hard, the perceptive spell might break, and she might not find the will to go back.  Instead, she shuffled on the spot until Dolly asked a question of her own.

“How do you like it?”

The answer came far easier than expected.  “I- I think it’s wonderful.  Can all the toyfolk do this?”

“Oh yeah, all the time!  For sleeping and eating and washing and all sorts of stuff!  But fun stuff like this, you do need two making believe together at least!  It can’t do stuff like make you hhhhmmmmmmmmnnngngn, but you can see and feel and do all sorts of things!  It’s really really neato!”

Beau opted against asking about the sudden mushmouthing, and instead asked, “And… do you like it?  Me like this and you like that?”

Dolly tossed her head in a prideful swish, enough yarn to smother the town square flouncing in reply.  “As Toyland’s first and best professional playmate, I like anything my guests wanna do!”  Then she leaned in close, so close Beau almost scented something like candy-sweet breath, and added in whisper, “But also you’re SUPER cute like this!  Hee!”

With those words, whatever reticence Beau felt melted entirely.  She pulled herself to her feet, rushed forward, slammed herself into Dolly’s cheek, and spread her arms to squeeze them against the ragdoll’s cushy face wide and tight as she could manage.  “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you so much I love it I should have come here months ago!”  Mid-nuzzle with a stitch broader than her torso, she caught herself, realizing what must have happened topside with her sudden movement, and coughed, “Oh, uh… sorry if I, you know… bulldozed you there.”

“Don’t worry!  I put you down while we were talking!  You’re just standing there, still ‘n’ sturdy!  Didn’t move an inch!  Not that you can unless I want you to~.”

Beau blinked.  She achieved total immersion and hadn’t realized.  A broad smile lit her face.  “Oh, this is going to be so much-”

“FUN!!!”

Dolly’s exclamation sent Beau tumbling backward head over heels.  And so - with the quick establishment of safe words and signals - they were off.

As show of gratitude, Beau let Dolly take first point with whatever sorts of games she’d normally prefer.  To no surprise, her instincts trended towards childish games, though the sheer size disparity made these more engaging and enjoyable for Beau than had they tried beforehand.  Marveling at the seemingly overlarge ragdoll’s deftness as they played patty-cake, bulk slab hands gently bumping against her own and clapping just softly enough to only produce a minor sonic boom.  Now and then, Dolly timed her claps to close around Beau, enveloping her playmate in muffling dark and snickering as Beau squirmed within, doing her level best to keep the rhythm while ensnared.

Jumping rope wouldn’t work quite so well under normal circumstances - Beau had no chance of clearing Dolly’s skips, and the idea of Dolly registering Beau’s twirls was laughable.  Instead, she placed her mite of a partner in her hair, and told Beau to hang on while she tried at besting her record.  At first, Beau found the rapid swish of corded rope overhead and the wild tangle of Dolly’s hair a little frightening, but after the first fifty skips she came to appreciate the experience as a kind of thrill ride.  With the right wriggling, she could tuck herself between a few yarn strands, ensure a secure position, and appreciate the doll’s talent for speed step and criss-cross.

All the same, she asked for a game more accommodating her size next, inspiring Dolly to a round of hide ‘n’ seek.  This suited Beau quite nicely, though not because she proved a particularly adept hider.  She found her options severely limited by where Dolly placed her and how far she could scurry within even a deliberately molasses countdown, which made her discovery inside a minute practically inevitable.  Rather, it made a delightful opportunity for exploring the room from her miniaturized vantage point, breath taken away by the cavernous space under the couch, the monolithic quality of knick-knacks on the mantle, the all-swallowing dark of an otherwise light shadow in the connecting hallway, all of it so incredibly convincing through new eyes.  If she woke up here with no further context, there wouldn’t pass a second she thought it anything other than a full-scale home.

(One round did go in her favor.  She tip-toed her way under the slight heel rise in Dolly’s shoe, and spent several minutes shuffling along with its tread while snickering to herself, grateful Dolly found the act of pretending so natural she never once thought to nudge Beau’s actual body for a hint.)

I Spy proved mainly an excuse for Dolly to walk about the room humming and erring to herself in mock consternation over what to choose, her path always hewing within relative inches of catching Beau underfoot, then spinning about in “sudden” inspiration with, “I spy a cutie pie!”  Obviously Beau could not replicate the same effect, especially not while blushing from the compliment (actually, properly blushing, she realized, real heat from her cheeks gone flush); she instead alternated between playing legit and spying “the biggest doll ever.”  Either way, Dolly knew her home and herself too well to fail a guess.

They did find time for a brief round of play sheep tending at Dolly’s suggestion, a transitory game to ease Beau into control of their activities.  True to her word, Dolly made sure Beau kept from her usual controlling, overly-mannered habits, prodding verbally and physically if she showed signs of slipping.  Really, it only took a few of these before Beau conceded entirely and the game turned into one of plonking into cotton balls thrice her height for warmth while Dolly shuffled the others about, generating heat and bleating to herself.

Maybe I should just relax with the sheep from time to time, Beau pondered, her face sinking another half-step into the fluff.  If their wool feels half so cozy as I’m imagining, it might do us all some good…

The task of calling time suddenly fell to Beau, alongside Dolly’s head when she slumped face-first into the cotton pile, having put herself to sleep counting cotton ball sheep.  A gentle smile on her face despite the sudden jar, Beau pattered on over to shove at Dolly’s cheeks in hopes of rousing the giant.  No good, alas.  Rule of play made counting sheep dangerous business if one believed in its narcoleptic sway, and nobody on the island adhered to its tenets firmer.  Girl was plain out like a light.

Beau contemplated her options.  She COULD will her perspective back to normal and wake Dolly in her full-sized body.  Or…

She had a much, much better idea.  Scuttling at top speed, Beau made a beeline for Dolly’s thigh, half-exposed beneath the folds of her dress.  Fortunately the doll’s awkward pose compressed her dimensions somewhat, else Beau would have quite the long run before her.  As it were, a mere minute’s running brought her before her destination, a great unmoving wall.  The sight could take her breath away, were she not already winded from the sprint over - voluminous dresses did not make good exercise gear.  After affording herself a moment’s awe at the sheer expanse of something she thought remarkably slender and floppy just this morning (and to catch her breath), Beau cracked her fingers best she could without breakage, and set to dancing them across Dolly’s rags in a tickle.

At first, no result.  Not shocking, for even imagining Dolly’s leg as smooth warm flesh rather than sewn cloths, Beau could only stimulate so much surface area.  Movement was necessary, which meant sidling her way inwards, towards hopefully more sensitive patches.  Gliding her arms up, down, and in circles on her approach, the hem of Dolly’s dress passing by overhead and necessitating a small adjust in step underfoot, Beau half-hoped Dolly would wake before she pressed too much further… then mentally slapped herself for such idiocy.

“Just snooze long as you like…” she grinned, sliding one step further in, and then another, and another, and another, closer and closer and closer to…

Exactly how deep she went, Beau could not say.  When Dolly finally registered the caressing strokes, the lack of unfiltered light and those enormous pillars kicking all about conspired into complete disorientation as Beau was mercilessly thrown about, eventually tumbling out the dress between Dolly’s feet.  In spite of the indignity of her situation, Beau found herself laughing alongside the giantess, pounding the floor some at the thought of what she just did until Dolly scooped her back up, and kept on for some time after at that.

“Guess.. hahaha… I guess there goes any formality about my taking point!” she chirped, spreading out on her back and gazing up at Dolly’s staring face.

“Hee, yeah!  Being spontaneous can be just as fun as planning things out!”

“...Dolly, did you put yourself to sleep on purpose to see what I’d do on my own?”

“Won’t tell!  But it felt good anyways!”

Beau stuck out her tongue, marveled at the fact she could, then stretched and heaved a long sigh.  “Do you know, since we went there, I have wondered something about this whole imagination distorting reality thing since we started.”

“Oh?”

“We can make me smaller after a fashion by making believe, but… can we also make you bigger?  If both of us pretend really, really hard, like you said?”

Hardly a moment after she posed the question, Beau got her answer, as Dolly simply expanded outward.  Attention still fixed on the mini-toy in her hand, smile unwavering as ever, the ragdoll became, unceasingly, more and more.  All in their imagination, of course, but Beau’s shrinking happened instantly and involved no changes beyond herself; this was Dolly’s legs crowding her furniture against the wall, Dolly’s back blocking the entryway and sliding along the ceiling as she hunched over, Dolly’s free hand covering and smothering the fireplace in a groping quest for free space.  The fact of a process Beau could stand and witness in real time made the already impressive growth near-overwhelming.

As she kept on, the room groaned and the foundations creaked.  Beau distantly recalled her observation about Dolly’s weight as insubstantial, realized her contribution to this particular bit of make-believe rendered the ragdoll just so heavy as her size implied, and felt her higher functions black out.  From feeling like a mite to a veritable dust speck, she rode out the change, reveling a little every time Dolly shifted on the spot to gain more room or produced a worrying crack at her feet.  Whatever this looked like in proper reality, Beau couldn’t give two spits.  This was glorious, and that was enough.

If Dolly wasn’t quite human-sized within a minute, she certainly challenged the room’s maximum mass capacity as she tapered off, grunting some in mild discomfort from awkward positioning.  Surprising for her composition, yet Beau supposed someone so bendy and soft must too have their limits.  Or rather, she would suppose, were her eyes not lit with the delighted sparkling of an entire night’s sky.

“Oh my God, you can, you can actually get bigger, cripes, no, wait, this changes everything, I was expecting you to say no, oh my fffff… Dolly, Dolly how much bigger can you get?  Let’s do it, let’s keep going, I want to see it, I wanna climb in your collar and watch you burst this stupid house and go stomping around the island, give everyone the shock of their lives, bigger shock than coming here ever was.  Oh, oh, hey, if we get more toys to see you like this does that make it realer?  Can we make it more real than your actual body, can we make this permanent?  Get you like, fifty feet tall, or whatever that would be proportionate to us?  First and best and BIGGEST playmate, can you imagine it?  Oh my God oh my God oH MY GOD!!!”

Hyperventilating, Beau let her thoughts run wild in a way she hadn’t entertained since college.  She woke up this morning expecting humiliation and disappointment, and now THIS door opened wide just for her?  Heaven from straight out hell!

Tragedy, alas, came crashing about her head when Dolly spoke, alongside serious earache from the raw volume of her voice.

“I can, actually!  Although, even if it is all pretend, there’s still enough really happening to be uh… a little bit worried?  I’m trying super hard to not crush my couch right now.  And if I keep growing, I might just sorta appear outside without any damage, or I might break my roof.  So… can, but prooooobably shouldn’t?”

 Beau sat there, contemplating.  She came dangerously close to suggesting all caution go stuff itself in the wind, consumed by overwhelming desire to glut on her deepest fantasies and see this place smashed to splinters as revenge for their inhuman state.  Thankfully, a new life of self-discipline paid dividends beyond dragging herself out from bed in the morning, and cooler-headed reasoning prevailed.  To face the entity responsible for repairing any beyond-the-pale damage and explain WHY Dolly’s house had a great big Dolly-sized hole in would prove too too much.

“Mmnnnnngh, alright, fine!  No ragdoll rampage unless we start another one of these playdates outside.  Just… can I have a uh… a kiss before you shrink back d-”

“SURE!”

Escape velocity g-force didn’t compare with the pressure pinning Beau to the spot as Dolly pressed hand to face.  Any chance to account why she asked for a kiss when she knew perfectly well Dolly’s mouth was a pasted-on detail with no depth or lips vanished the instant she smashed directly against the red semi-circle.  Mwah!’s of thunderous amplitude boomed from every direction, Dolly indulging the request many times over, giving Beau the space necessary to conjure something other than fabric around her person.  Same basic principles as all other forms of play, of course, just a matter of picuting what you want to see and feel…

With some effort, the rags morphed.  Warmth crept into their fibers, their flat surface splitting and expanding into new volume, a texture like the finest gloss spread over naturally smooth flesh.  Beau imagined the twitch of tiny facial muscles pursing and puckering, stretching across micrometers that may so well be miles at her scale, to catch her in the cleft and pull her vacuum tight with the slightest suction.  A pop louder than any sound in history as she’s released, only for the phantom process to repeat again, and again, and again. 

She leaned into it, thrilling at the tangible contrast between present and imaginary, the hints of plain stitching on those lips and the taste of proper breath intermingling with cotton.  Some small (VERY small, all told) part of her wondered again how far she could push this, whether imagining Dolly sucking an infinitesimal bit harder to trap the shepherdess in her mouth would actually transport Beau inside the doll’s head, to mingle with nonexistent teeth and tongue and saliva, the threat of swallowing looming ever closer.  And then to properly go through with it - impossible when this wasn’t her real body, but if it WERE, lost in Dolly’s stuffing, forgotten and insignificant as any other piece of debris.

Eaten by a ragdoll.  Wouldn’t that plain beat all?

Fortunately, Dolly had her fill of mock-smooching a practically empty palm before Beau could make serious headway on imagining an unaware vore scenario.  Or seemingly unaware, as it were.  With their minds modestly intermingled for the game’s sake, Dolly sensed Beau’s intentions, and figured it best they move on before she took any rash actions requiring surgical intervention.

“While you recover down there,” she said, voice returning to mere deafening rumbles as she imagined herself back to a sensible size, “we can do something a little like me being big big big BIG girl!  Only gotta go the other way round!”

For her part, Beau was less recovering than indulging a passing sulk.  Can’t watch Dolly wreck the town, can’t feed herself to Dolly, and now the colossal palm upon which she laid shrank back to mere enormity.  S’not fair, this was supposed to be the part where she got to do whatever she liked.  If they had to obey rationality and precaution, where was the f- f- ffffffff-

Beau’s mind once again stumbled on drawn-out consonants as she noticed the spatial distortion of her immediate environment reversing polarity.  Dolly resumed her usual size, yet her hand, which had seemingly collapsed in on itself, now stretched away from Beau’s central location, at rapid speed and seemingly more gigantic than before.  She was shrinking again, in moments as tall to her first shrunken height as it stood against Dolly, and then the same for her second tier, down down down…

“WE CAN GO A LOT MORE EXTREME LIKE THIS, I THINK!”

Porcelain chipped from Beau’s face, the statement slammed her so hard.  Yeah.  Yeah, that’d do as compensation.

To her mind, she lost days wandering the now-continent of Dolly.  Because none of this was strictly happening, her waves and foot-taps for attention were always met with an obliging pinch ride, her requests for another location heard and fulfilled without trouble; but even so, on deposit at her new destination, Beau let time slough clean away.  Those candycane stripes represented plains a dozen miles wide and countless miles along, ideal for thoughtless wandering as Dolly lay upon her back.  The simple curve of black leather on her shoes became ascent up a slope worthy any seasoned mountaineer, magnificently challenging for a size-obsessive like Beau.  She walked the shadow of a single stitch, her hand run along its rim to enjoy the microscopic imperfections bumping through her fingers; she had Dolly bend the flowery ruff round her neck to transform it into the ultimate downhill zip-ride a few too many times over; she closed her eyes, let Dolly select a random patch of rags within the dress, challenged herself to figure where she stood, and blushed quite ferociously when the answer coalesced.

(She figured it only proper to not ask after the meaning behind the massive “S” on a field of red.  Breast tats are a private matter, after all.)

The head alone offered endless possibilities.  Eyes like a frozen sea on a moonless night, so dark they swallowed all ambient light, so slick Beau practically glid over their surface, the thread holes chasms into an underworld.  The forest of yarn-hair at her old size now an endless Amazonian expanse, the weave’s logic lost to miniscule chaos of discarded fuzz and imperceptible shifts, like the environment malforming itself into a maze just to challenge Beau.  Bows of a silky softness approaching angelic, tempting sleep everlasting in their flamingo tuck and fold.  Cheek patches, radiating mid-summer desert heat, near-intolerable at this size past a single minute, yet how delightful and special a thing to roast in the glow of another’s affection.  As to the mouth… well, Dolly wouldn’t let Beau near the mouth again.

A thousand locales upon a doll scarcely over a foot high, so many seemingly identical, yet all stirring in their own unique ways.  Between major hot spots, Beau simply stood, immersed, let herself be.  By the loose reckoning of time in her head, she must have spent so long upon Dolly that her host got up to attend other matters, looked after her own feeding, sleep, other clients, whole daily cycles interrupted every so often by her adorable germ asking for a new location.  Sense dictated Beau should detect Dolly moving about while curled in the crook of her knee, feel gravity shift as the doll changed positions.  To think elsewise would render Dolly more than a mere continent - an entire world unto herself, population Beau and no other.  Clung to a thin cloth skin, needing and knowing nothing save her new home.  Such thoughts flitted through her hollow head, then vanished into wordless euphoria.

As with all things, it soon came to an end.  Happily, this ending announced itself via a pleasing rumble.

“HEY, CUTIE!  HATE TO SAY WHEN YOU’RE SO COZY, BUT WE ARE ALMOST AT YOUR THREE HOUR LIMIT.  YOUR NOTE SAID YOU NEED TO CHECK ON YOUR SHEEP AFTER THAT, SO WE’VE GOTTA GROW YOU BACK.  SORRY!”

Though too at peace for the words to seriously disturb her, Beau felt minor confusion at the reminder.  “Drat, you’re right, I did set a limit.  Except, wow, has it really only been three hours?”

“CLOCK SAYS TEN MINUTES TO GO.  I JUST THOUGHT YOU’D NEED SOME TIME TO ADJUST BACK INTO BIG BEAU.”

“Feels as though I spent a lifetime down here…”

“Aw, that’s just how playing pretend gets!”  Already Dolly’s voice softened to near-intolerable levels, in tandem with Beau regaining her starting shrunken size.  “So, if you close your eyes and picture it real hard, we’ll bring you back up to full size, and then-”

“W-wait!”  Beau cried, flailing her arms in a desperate bid for reprieve.  “Ten minutes can be practically forever in playtime, right?  We have enough left for one last thing!”

Dolly tapped her chin in consideration.  “Oh yeah!  When you thought we were playing Dommy Mommy, you asked me to step on you!  I can do that, hang on!”

“ACTUALLY!”  She coughed, shuffling on the spot, eyes cast downward, goading herself into asking plain ‘n’ direct.  “It is… it’s a little more than that.  Would you mind… if it’s not too much… I mean…”  Beau gestured uselessly towards the couch, then groaned.  “Dolly, can you sit on me?”

The smile that followed could turn deepest midnight to a midday blaze.  “I thought you’d never ask~!”

Imagination served Beau’s reactions well.  Breath caught in her chest as Dolly carried her to the couch.  Skin ran with prickling goosebumps as Dolly set her down perfect center.  Nerves screamed in anticipation as Dolly turned about.  Sweat pricked her forehead at the sight of Dolly gathering her dress to draw it tight about her backside.  An entire nonexistent system of biological impulses and reactions took in the sight of a perfectly flat, rectangular spread of cotton-stuffed fabric leaning back over her position, compared it against the expected list of sexually exciting imagery, ruminated for the briefest of instants, and ran back a report: “Yeah, no, this is still stupid fucking hot to us too.”

Beau squeaked.

WUMPH.

All shape and sense fell away.  No chance she’d ever think Dolly slight after this.  The only sensation Beau processed was unrelenting weight - Dolly’s complete nothing of a frame crushing her into a flat surface whose wool texture vanished beneath the fact of a single pound turned poundage uncountable by a simple difference in scale.  Some part of her wanted to believe Dolly shifted herself back and forth some, rubbing in her position of dominance, but in the moment, the difference between supposition and reality was practically nil.  Dolly might do anything up there, and all Beau would know is compression, and paralysis, and weight.

A particularly eager voice in the back of her head had demanded she repeat something like her trick during the earlier kiss, summon up the sensation of a proper person’s rear to enhance the sensation.  Run it through a dozen dozen body types to smother herself beneath every manner of human Dolly she could imagine.  Completely impossible, now, stupid to have assumed any choice.  She was undoubtedly underneath a doll, at the mercy of as sexless a humanoid thing as you please, impressions of curved flesh totally denied by hand-sewn, unendowed textiles.  And God help her if the alienation from anything like the human form didn’t make this ten times better, just by mere association with Dolly.

She tried to squirm.  She tried to struggle.  No use.  If Dolly fell inanimate right now, they’d blow clean past her stopping time, perhaps leave her trapped by this wonderfully unbearable pressure all day, all night, however long until someone thought to check on the ragdoll.  And if they did check, rouse her or pull her from the couch, would they care to notice the speck she ground into its seating?  Could they notice?  Beau wanted to shudder at the thought, but could not.  She did not kick, nor flail, nor much of anything else.  She took the weight, for there was nothing else to do.

(Except, briefly, ponder whether that Barbie doll and her bendy girlfriend might like to try this.  Hard plastic held an appeal all its own…)

And then it was over.  Light and sound flooded from above as Dolly hoped from her spot, leaving Beau to reel back into normal consciousness.  “Alright, we’re inching pretty close here, so we really gotta finish off!  Your sheepies are gonna get lonely if you don’t head out soon!”

Denied the ability so thoroughly for so long, Beau fidgeted on the spot.  “I mean… you did say I work myself and them alike too hard.  Who’s to say staying longer won’t help?”

“Naaaaaah.  Besides, I got me-things to do still! Can’t give Little Beau my attention all day!”

“Little Beau can just sit in your collar while you work!  Or get put on your shelf and abandoned until…”

“Hey.”  Dolly knelt down by the couch, positioning her face on even level with the shrunken shepherdess.  “I get it.  You wanna play all the time, never stop being Little Beau.  And I do too!  It’s lots and lots and lots of fun being the first and best professional playmate in Toyland!  But you gotta stop sometime, right?  Do what you gotta do outside playtime.”

Beau stood, turned her back, crossed her arms, huffed.  “But we agreed being Big Beau is bad for me.  I haven’t felt this happy and relaxed since I came to Toyland!  Why should I go back to acting stuck-up and high-strung all the time?”  To her surprise, the last part came out with a slight whine round the edge.

Her ears heard the rough scrape of fabric on fabric as Dolly rubbed her chin in contemplation.  “Maybe you’re only like that as Big Beau because you never take the time to be Little Beau.  Maybe you spent so much time doing what you think you need to do, you don’t turn off and be what you want.  So Big Beau is bossy and stiff, and Little Beau overdoes it and doesn’t wanna stop.  Maybe you just gotta find the right balance!”

Beau sniffled, reluctant to turn about.

Arms scooped around her, both miniaturized self and true self, the latter invisible to her eye yet right next to her on the couch.  The vertigo of existing across two perspectives clouded her head again as Dolly hefted her high for one last hug.  “You can always come by again whenever you got time in your schedule, yeah?”  She gave a gentle squeeze, warming Beau to her core.  “Little Beau ain’t going away; she’s sleeping so Big Beau can have her turn.  They’re not different people!  Just, y’know… sides!”

Beau did her best to hug back, simultaneously too small and too big to do so properly.  Although she suspected Dolly did not quite take her own advice… “You are right, Dolly.  I will keep an eye open for when I have time.  And cherish what we have done already.  Thank you, so very, very much.”

“No problem!”

The spell broke.

Dolly’s legs wobbled.  Without the power of play rendering Beau’s body lighter than a feather, her cotton-stuffed limbs were not equipped to hold a doll half her height over and thrice her weight so high aloft.  The pair teetered for a moment, then went crashing to the floor.

“...is there any chance you are into being sat on yourself?” Beau joked.

“Not really!  Can you pretty please get up?”

“Fair.”  Uncrumpling her dress and unsnagging strands of hair from the floor, she rose back up, steadying against the suddenly unfamiliar yet already normalizing vantage point of her normal toy self.  “Do I owe you anything for the service?  I know most toyfolk avoid financial exchange unless they have a fondness for Monopoly money, but I figure it best to ask in case…”

“Lemme hang out with your flock sometime and we’re evens Stevens!”

***

Later in the evening, Beau lay awake in bed, echoes of the day’s experiences ringing in her head.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she'd done as she’d planned: stand over her flock, moving them from one end of the pasture to another and back again.  Absent the ordinary pressures and obligations of tending livestock, she spent years engaged in this on the daily out of obligation, obligation and belief fastidious attendance might purify her wrongdoings.  With Dolly’s session at her back, however, today she took a different set of words to heart and tried to have fun with the job.  It was not easy, divorced from such immense gratification (and immense presence…), and she was not sure she did it right, but her sheep seemed appreciative when she let them run free from her command for a time.  Bleated approval and followed when she broke into a spontaneous run.  Stood willingly as she hugged them at day’s end, imagining each a cotton ball.

Her friends took immediate notice at dinner.  Genuine notice, no snark or innuendo, which characterized their original suggestions.  “Good one, Beau!”  “Can’t believe what a difference I’m seeing, you MUST tell me what she did in there.”  “I have never seen you this laid back, it’s a miracle.”  When they partook in a night-closing chaser, Beau actually deigned to stay and take a drink herself - for the first time, she felt the slightest buzz from sipping the empty cup, prompting cheers and claps on the back.

Tipsiness wasn’t the only novel sensation in the hours since.  Her own home seemed friendlier.  The lights provided proper illumination where once they offered dim, faltering glow; the personal effects on her dresser seemed almost serviceable makeup options rather than cheap plastic imitations; the floor no longer groaned under her step, the doorframes accommodated her figure a little more willingly.

Her pillow felt of soft down, her blankets a comfortable fleece.  The rickety, long-hated foam strip masquerading as a mattress: just like the one she remembered back home.

How had she gone this long without a spark of vibrancy in her life?  Convinced Toyland was this dead, unchanging place, cut off from the joys small and large which made a life worth living?  In honesty, likely the same way she went her human life convinced of the same.  Self-isolation, presumption of living as an inherent misery, refusal to look up and see what’s actually there without turning about and running.  She wanted to feel shame at the thought it took effectively a private kink roleplay session to realize one only need want the full scope of offerings to find them all around… but in the name of balance, swatted the thought aside.  Take the good where you can, she thought, that is the real important thing.

And besides.  If she learnt of this aspect to the rule of play any other way, she’d never think to do this.

Eyes laid gently closed, Beau rearranged her perspective.  While the sensation could not match the strength possible with Dolly’s cooperation, she did not need full intensity in her sleep.  Even the faintest impression of her body dwindling until the bed felt sensibly proportioned would help.  Somewhere between the extremes, just enough to fit, and settle in, and snooze.  If Big Beau and Little Beau needs must cooperate to improve both their lots, they can start by making sure Beau Beau gets some good rest.

Beau rolled on her side, and, for the first time since her arrival, felt at peace in Toyland.

[dionysism]

Please. Tell us your thoughts on epic the musical if you will. Positive and negative

i think i have before but its spread out across multiple posts so i will just go ahead and put everything into one place lol

trigger warning again for light reference to s/a cause i'm referring to what happened in the odyssey

positive:

i think they have clever word play. i made a post before about how the "i've got you, don't worry, circe's got you now" has the neat dual meaning with "i've got you" in its positive reassuring meaning and "i've got you now" in it's sinister "you're trapped i've got you" meaning. same thing with zeus' "a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before" sounding like he means some big dangerous enemy when he's actually referring to an infant.

the songs are catchy, i must admit! the musical scores are impressive too. i also like how the use the instruments to tell the story. like how each character has an instrument thats associated with them, and how you can tell the penelope in suffering is not actually penelope because her signature instrument is missing. neat stuff. i also like how eurylochus' instrument is the crew themselves.

negative:

i think some of their creative liberties undermine the point of the story or just do it a disservice, something i've said before in other posts. to be specific, i feel they have made this into a story of a Good character who turns ruthless after everything he's had to endure, and while that is an interesting story to explore, it's not odysseus' story. odysseus is, for lack of a better word, morally gray from the start. i think morally gray is really too simplistic to describe him as he is a rather complex character but what i mean is he is not a Good guy but he's not entirely a Bad guy either, you know? the odyssey is not about a honorable hero who sacrifices his morals by the end, it's a guy who's already kinda questionable who continues to do questionable things at times. for example "lets lead from the heart, see what starts" is just not something he would really say 😭😭 also in monster when he says "what if ive been far too kind to foes" hes not really kind to his foes. yes, he is capable of mercy, but hes not always approaching things with a "lets be kind ❤️" attitude.

having him spare polyphemus out of mercy was stupid to me, personally. in the odyssey he doesn't kill polyphemus because he needs him to move the boulder blocking the cave exit, and also, given his size, odysseus isn't fully certain they can kill him. blinding him instead of killing him was not an act of mercy, it was a strategic choice. and also having them kill his sheep first was senseless to me. the whole thing in the odyssey is polyphemus is in the wrong, and odysseus is in the right. they don't kill his sheep immediately, and polyphemus violates xenia, because polyphemus doesn't care about xenia. this why odysseus feels comfortable to reveal his name at the end, because he knows he's in the right, and he assumes he has delivered a punishment in accordance with the gods for the violation polyphemus has committed. it's still unwise of him to do so, but at least you can see where he's coming from. in epic it kind of makes no sense because they came into his house, killed his sheep, and then he reveals his name and home address after that?!:?:?:? and then athena fucking off forever like okay?:$:?:?: what was that about.

circe saga really irked me, aside from the compliments i've already given. they removed the aspect of him having to sleep with circe by just having him say no. the situation is not this simple. he literally could not say no. one, because hermes already warned him on the way there not to say no to anything she asks of him and two because shes literally a goddess. like yes the moly protects him from her spells but she could still very much kill him if she wanted. and there's also the factor of her having his men captive as swine. in the odyssey this shows you how powerless he is before the gods, which, is a pretty important aspect of the odyssey! also it's just simply unlike circe, as a character, to be like "ah i'm so moved by your faithfulness and acts of kindness i think i will just let your men go and aid your journey for absolutely nothing in return ❤️" whole saga just came off very sanitized. curious as to how they intend to approach calypso.

underworld saga like i said before its the sudden switch of him being about "leading from the heart" and "kindess" to "then i'll become the monster" like woah... just felt like abrupt 180 to me. and again it just annoys me in general cause this character arc is simply not accurate for him 😭 i've also said this before somewhere but sometimes i feel like the odysseus in epic is more like an oc than an adaptation of homer's odysseus. hence why i see him as a completely separate character (and get annoyed when people conflate them as one)

thunder saga i had more minor gripes with like the fact that odysseus also had the beeswax in his ears unlike in the odyssey where he doesn't and has his men tie him to the mast while he listens. this is just simply because i thought a song from odysseus' perspective while he's deluded by the siren song and begging to be untied would have been really interesting. but oh well ☹️ i actually will admit i didn't complete hate the change with his mens death for the cattle. obviously, in the odyssey, he's not given a choice by zeus—they kill the cattle, they leave eventually, zeus strikes the ship and odysseus is the sole survivor. however i do think this is interesting to explore. odysseus obviously cares very deeply for his men, and would do near anything to bring them home. he's not the type to just sacrifice them willy nilly like they don't matter. (the bit in the circe saga where eurylochus wants to leave them behind and odysseus says no we need to at least try is biblically accurate, that does happen in the odyssey) but at the end of the day... getting back to penelope trumps all else. so would he, do you think? if he had been given the choice, would he let them all die to see her again? i think he would have. especially by that point. so that's one change i'm like, okay, that's kind of interesting. i don't hate this.

so overall, theres multiple things i do like about it! and i do appreciate the creativity and effort that's gone into the project and it always makes me happy to see people passionate about greek mythology. i just think they've lost the plot a little. i feel like it's become a story about a Good man who continuously gets punished for being good until he caves to ruthlessness which like i said, is an interesting concept, but just not the story of the odyssey.

[anxresi]

…Isn’t it a bit late for April Fools Day?! 🤡🤣

I was going to just write a few snarky remarks in the tags, but fuck it… I have a bit of time on my hands right now, so let’s tackle these somewhat disingenuous statements one at a time shall we? Starting from the one in the top left hand corner, and working our way anti-clockwise around… *Cracks knuckles*

1. Yep. SO nice in fact, she doesn’t have any other noticeable character trait. ‘Niceness’ by itself doesn’t make you an interesting, intriguing or compelling character… it just makes you boring. In fact, I’m gonna have to work pretty damn hard to finish this off before I nod off just thinking about her… 🥱

2. …And this is a GOOD thing? It just proves how much the writers were DESPERATE to make her Chloe’s replacement they rushed virtually everything to do with her, including her rapid induction to ‘Hero’. Most of the other Miraculous users had to wait AGES to get their chance, and Lil Miss Perfect just turns up in Paris and gets her chance virtually the first day. It wasn’t earned, it wasn’t believable… it was just handed to her on a silver platter because… reasons. 😩

3. So what? This is just yet more evidence that this girl, a TOTAL STRANGER up to S4 is all of a sudden being treated like the queen of all Mary Sues. Just listen to all the endless shilling about her from the rest of the cast (especially Marinette and, more depressingly Plagg) Now imagine them said in Thomas Astruc’s voice as he lays his case against Chloe… and everything should become clear.

4. This means virtually nothing. Everyone gets their Miraculous permanently at the end of S5, so the fact she gets her’s 5th is just down to a quirk in sequence. If anything, I’m surprised she didn’t get it sooner… in another gratuitous ‘Take That’ to diehard Chloe fans… 😬

5. I don’t even have anything to say about this.. it calculates the precise sum of 0.00% in terms of her worth of a character. You got anything better?

6. Oh, you mean the same acting ‘skills’ that she used to manipulate her sister into pretending she ‘loved’ her and to carry that useless charm about?The thing is, everyone might’ve SAID her talent was great in that AWFUL Queen Banana episode… but it actually wasn’t. Just because the other characters say she’s the next Sophia Loren, doesn’t mean the viewers don’t have eyes and ears. But I guess if they’re stupid enough to fall for Lila’s incredibly obvious lies when the plot demands it, anything’s possible…

7. What, you like her colorful shoes? This is possible the only one I’ll grant you (they ARE pretty snazzy) but at the end of the day, they’re just pointless aesthetics. Anyone else could be wearing them, and the garish colors can’t blind us to her all-conquering mediocrity. Moving on…

8. Here’s a hint: NEVER use the word ‘objectively’ when the opposite is clearly true. She’s not just ‘sweet’, spending time with her is akin to being pinned down in Wonka’s chocolate factory being force-fed candy by all the Oompa-Lumpas until you literally explode. Not a pleasant experience in other words, thanks to the writers laying this sole facet on with a literal trowel and shovel.

As for the ‘sass’ part… nope, not seeing it. Unless you mean the occasional scene when she ‘deals’ with her sister… these parts were obviously only put in to throw red meat for the Chloe-hating sheep out there could hoot and holler at the screen (probably waking their parents up in the process) whilst screaming “SEE? THAT’S WHAT YOU GET!!” Well, I hope you’re happy now. You hapless lame-o’s.

9. Mary Sues don’t get ‘character assassinated’. They get bigged-up, cheered, given every resource in the show to be Da Best… but NEVER wrecked in that manner. Her sister, on the other hand… 😢

I would argue though, that what she is, is WORSE than character assassination… she’s an individual that never should’ve existed in the first place. In fact, I’d barely even describe her as a character. A plot device, a waste of space, a product of Thomas Astruc’s inexplicable raging hatred against Chloe maybe, but not a serious character. As the popular meme goes, Change My Mind (you won’t).

10. …You’re REALLY scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t you?

Besides, this hasn't even been confirmed yet. We don't even know anything about the elusive Mr Lee, or even what he might think about his daughter being forcibly adopted by the Mayor. Something which I'm sure a show of such grandiosity and ambition will go into at great length.. Nah, just kidding!

Next, you’ll be telling me that somehow her sexuality is another reason to think she’s the best thing since sliced bread…

11. And there we have it (sigh). How terribly predictable. 🙄

I’ve already done a whole post thingie about how her being a lesbian and having a short-lived crush on Marinette was just imposed to get unearned brownie points from underrepresented communities when they won’t actually do anything with said revelation, so I’ll keep this short. Sufficed to say though, I feel like starting a hashtag… #TheGaysDeserveBetterThanZoe. Get it trending, peeps! 😎

12. Whatever you’re smoking, can I have some of it? This is crossing the line from ‘delusional’ to ‘crazy’ now. She’s remained as static as a statue since her opening episode, has NO room for change and growth due to the fact she was only brought in to replace Chloe and in that uncomfortably dull niche she’ll stay. Sorry, but just because you wish that she’d had any kind of interesting development doesn’t mean she has. Facts have a funny habit of getting in the way of the truth.

13. In turns of ticking boxes for diversity, French-Americans aren’t exactly a high priority IMHO. But sure if you think that makes her the bees knees (pun intended), you go ahead and celebrate it. 👍

14. So in conclusion, I do agree that Zoe Lee is indeed ‘Best’ character… (hears sharp intake of breathes all round) oops, I’m sorry. What I meant was ‘Pest’ character… in that just having her buzzing about in all her flawless Mary-Sue glory makes you just wanna reach for the bug spray.

You know, like you would for a pesky wasp during a delicious picnic. Because she’s Vesperia, get it? 🤪

The only upside to this sad situation is, from what I can tell (being strictly a non-watcher these days, you figure out why) the writers half-agree with me.

After all for such an 'amazing' character who's apparently achieved so much in her short time in the show... why is she barely featured? They must know, somewhere down deep in their artistic brains, she's a narrative dead zone.

A collection of tiresome off-the-shelf quirks, traits and spare parts (someone here said she was like a bad fanfiction self-insert... ABSOLUTELY RIGHT), loosely held together with visible stitching and hastily assembled together like Frankenstein's Monster for the most cynical of reasons.

She has no arguable reason to be in the show, apart from being a far inferior replacement to the potential mine of character development that someone like Chloe could've represented.

I guess Thomas really does hate complex characters who may overshadow his precious Marinette... or school bullies who traumatized him so much as a lil kid he specifically wrote someone into his show he could subsequently and systematically destroy (as the rumors go... but it wouldn't surprise me with THAT guy).

Now I’m off to bed, but let me end on at least ONE positive note for this much-maligned individual: She’s EXACTLY the kind of character a show like Miraculous Ladybug deserves… and if you like her, you deserve her too.

Now, good night. 🌝 🛌

[sunoosets]

banda x reader

[2.2k words.]

[Warning: Banda Sunato - A literal serial killer. Smutty🤭 I heard people were down bad for this guy. Probably OOC, I was only experimenting. Public fucking, choking, slight degradation, slight non-con, orgasm denial, biting, fingering, dirty talk. I think that's all😬.]

Probably one of my favs that I have done so far..

Solitary confinement, what an interesting game for an interesting girl. I was more than accustomed to the concept of prison cells, and lonesome nights against drab, grey walls. I was comfortable with the types of people I'd find in such locations and knew, like the mildly intelligent person I was, that no one here was to be trusted. Nor did they, in turn, deserve my trust. That's not to say I couldn't pass on a fake, deceiving type of trust.

I hummed at my pickings. Groups of wavering souls, dividing into groups, lead simply by one being. They were sheep - Lost puppies. Born into this hellish scape just to follow. That, in itself, was a sign of weakness. Naivety and too much trust in one leader could spiral into consequences no man would desire. 

"Tell me my suit and I'll say yours." A voice spoke, with much desperation. Yet in their tone, an unattractive amount of force rose to the surface. I lifted my brows, turning to face the man beside me. He appeared edgy. With dark, messy hair, that draped over his left eye like a patch. 

"Bold." I stated simply. Flicking my gaze up his pathetic stance. "Are you really that desperate?" I questioned and the man lowered his head into a nod. "Answer this." I whispered, toning down my voice, and stepping closer to his form. He tensed, face disturbingly easy to read. "Why should I inform you?" I spoke, eyes dropping to his mouth. 

"Uh." He appeared stuck. "I- I'll tell you yours? It's a good deal!" He seemed unsure, and his words wavered. I scoffed and took in his features. Scanning the regret in his one visible eye. "I can ask anyone in this room. You're not special." My face fell and I spoke with such an earnest tongue, his eye widened and he backed away from my figure. "I'm sorry ma'am. I'll ask someone else." He bowed, scurrying off in such a pathetic manner, I almost became disgusted. Though the obvious power I held over him seemed to lift my mood. 

I watched, criticizing him as he asked a fellow participant. One that had previously caught my eye. Banda Sunato. A tall, broad-shouldered man. With a charismatic smile, and appealing puppy shaped eyes. He was handsome, gorgeous, pretty, but a fucking psycho. He was a serial killer, the causing death of four innocent women. Almost five..

Fortunately, the fifth famously escaped his grasp. Ultimately giving him in and enduring a harsh several months with him in court. He was sentenced to death, and the woman was pleased with her work, though that only ignited more anger in her jaws as she clenched them at the sight of her almost killer. 

I was the fifth. 

Banda freed a held-back frustration within my features. I loathed him, and the way he spurred butterflies against the lining of my stomach made me despise him more. A love-hate relationship with a convicted murderer. 

I had been staring, and the thoughts spiralled until I caught his eyes. Amused, and gleaming against the light as he traced his hungry gaze across my skin. I was the one who got away. The one he had sworn to find, capture and kill if seen again. 

He stretched out his neck and straightened his posture. All attention had been sweeped from the edge lord by his side, and now his undivided awareness was set on me. I swallowed, averting my gaze before settling on heading toward the cafeteria. There was no need to be afraid. I was safe, for now. 

I hastily took my feet down the dark, dusted floors. Landing myself in a large room, packed from the ground to the ceiling in a wide variety of snacks. I composed myself. Slipping my hand from my side and sliding my fingers over a packet of cookies. 

"How fortunate am I?" 

"I don't want to speak to you." I replied bluntly. Fixing my hair as I plucked my desired snack from it's place. I spun on my heel, only to meet Banda's fiery gaze. Set on nothing but my face. My breath hitched and he took my arms, sticking me to the shelves, and trapping me with his chest and ribs. "Oh, but you wanted to speak on that night.." He whispered, a sense of teasing in his tone. I remained still, disgust reaching my expression as he lowered his head. Keeping eye-contact until he reached my jaw. "You were more than pleased to cry out my name."

He planted his soft lips on my skin. Kissing my jawline with such a delicacy, you wouldn't have thought he was a serial killer. A monster. "I wouldn't do that." I strained my voice, tilting my head away from his touch. Something burned against my face and I cursed at how obvious my flusterment had become. My chest twisted at the feel of his rough palms. Falling onto my hips, and holding me into place. He gripped harder, releasing a low chuckle against my ear. "Why's that, baby?" He found this fascinating. Almost hilarious.

There was no use in me fighting back, yet I couldn't let him know how much my body craved him. "You're pathetic, thinking I don't know how much you need me." He whispered sternly, lifting his head and setting his intense stare on my eyes. "You think I don't know what's going on down here?" He questioned, though it was rhetorical, as his left hand stroked my inner thigh, and suddenly his slender fingers trailed over the wet patch on my pants. 

"I'm not scared of you." I managed out, through the gap in my lips. "No?" He asked. "You should be." Two of his fingers hooked my pants, and moved the fabric to the side. I gasped lightly at the contact of cold air, until my clit was met with his fingertip. Gliding between my folds and brushing over my sensitive heat. "You really should be." He repeated, but lower, against the skin of my neck. He licked at my throat, and sucked at the flesh, all while he slipped in one of his thin fingers. He curled it inside of me, provoking a soft moan from my lips. "You.." I froze, squeezing my eyes shut. "You can't kill me...weapons and murder are.." A chuckle was muffled by my damp skin, and Banda sunk a second finger inside of me. "Prohibited!" I cried, biting harshly on the flesh of my lip.

"I can still fuck you." He whispered, lips brushing over my neck. Leaving the ghost of a kiss. He raised his head and glared deep into my glossed over eyes. His lips twitched into a smirk - Sadistic, but undeniably attractive. He lifted his spare hand and set it gently on my cheek. "Y/n, y/n." He spoke my name and I bit down harder. Mistakenly pushing my hips down against his fingers. They pumped into me, luring my orgasm, as well as the truth of my fondness for him. 

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tilting and letting his head fall subtly to the side. "This won't be fun unless I fuck you into insanity." He stated. His tone soft, despite his words meaning. "So I'll only grant you a release when you admit how much you crave me." 

My eyes widened. "Please.." I unknowingly whimpered, begging for him to cast me some sort of pleasure. He simply smirked at my desperate attempts, fingering me mercilessly until my eyes rolled, and my head slammed against the wooden frame of the shelves behind me. "Banda!" I cried, sweat forming on my brow. He swiped his tongue against his lips, removing his fingers and shoving the two digits between my lips. "Suck." He commanded, and I obliged. Swirling my tongue over his fingertips. Tasting my own arousal. He appeared content, slowly sliding his fingers from my mouth, and dragging down my lower lip. He dropped his hand and replaced it with his lips. Soft and rough. Moving against mine with such a deep passion, my body was again, heating at the interaction. 

He pulled away and traced my pained features with his stare. How my eyes had became watery with the denial, and how my lips had became swollen at how hard I had been biting down. "Do you like the way I touch you?" He whispered gently, manoeuvring his hands to sit either side of my head. He pushed himself closer, and my inner thigh was greeted by his hard cock, clothed by his jeans. He rubbed himself over me, grinding into my soaking pussy. The soft fabric applied pressure to my clit, and the mere fact his twitching dick was beneath these confines made my stomach drop and twist. "Banda, please, I can't take this.." I admitted, whining as I gripped his broad shoulders. Steadying myself as I rocked on his boner. "Stop teasing me!" I cried out, whimpering and moaning at the feel of his warmth against me. Banda lowered his head, grunting against my earlobe. His hot breath hit my neck and I dropped my head back, parting my lips. 

"I'll fuck you with my cock right here." He groaned, biting down on the skin of my neck. Leaving behind a fresh, purple mark. His teeth grazed the muscle and I clenched my thighs, brushing myself against his dick. "All I need is for you to admit what a whore you are for me." He spoke, breaths strangled as he sunk his teeth into my flesh. I let out a silent moan, opening my lips and closing my eyes. 

"Fuck! I want you, fuck...please, Banda.." My voice lowered. "I don't care anymore, just fuck me."

I hadn't had to ask twice. His pants were already unzipped and his large cock had already been freed. He slipped the length into his hands, biting onto his lip as he pumped the shaft a few times. I composed myself, fingers curling over the edge of his shirt. I creased the fabric, and my nails dug into his clothed skin as I felt him enter. He sunk inside of me, grunting softly at the way my walls clenched and tightened around his much-wanted cock.  

"Fuck." He whispered, pleasure and lust shrouding his mind. His breaths became ragged as he slid his hands up my body, across my exposed collarbone, and against my neck - Where he clamped his palms around my throat. Squeezing gently as he rutted into me. His thumbs rubbed, and circled my airways sensually. I was gasping, letting out strangled and strained sobs, mixed with hot, pleasured moans. "Ruin me...please." I let out an airy breath. Staring at his features through damp lashes. 

Banda groaned, squeezing roughly around my throat as I choked. He filled me, sinking his cock into me until I began hyperventilating beneath his touch. "Fuck, like that." He almost whined, "Squeeze around my cock like that, baby." His breaths were airy and I moaned at the way he entered me. Fucking into me like an animal. I clenched around him, head going dizzy at both the lack of air and abundance of pleasure. "Banda!" I cried softly. "I'm gonna cum, please."

"Do you...think you're deserving of it?" He spoke, hesitating to catch his breath every few words. My eyes grew and I subtly struggled in his grip. "Banda!" I whined. He found that amusing, and lowly chuckled, inhaling sharply as my high arrived. He twitched and a short whimper fell from his wet lips. "Cum for me, baby." Banda whispered. "Cum on my cock." 

He smirked, eyes filled with ecstasy, as he pounded into me. Bathing in the lewd moans I gifted him, and the way I recited his name. Crying it like a sacred prayer. "Banda, please!" I whined, squeezing my eyes shut as I gasped and came on his cock. He slipped into me, each thrust deeper than the last. His fingers tightened around my throat, and quite frankly, I felt as if I were on the verge of fainting. The pleasure was overwhelming. 

"Fuck, Y/n." He let slip, moaning as his last thrust triggered his arrival. He pushed himself deep inside of me, slapping his pelvis and balls against me as he came. He filled me, breathing heavily as his cum spread against my insides. I gasped out a muffled moan. "Banda.." I whispered, eyelids fluttering to a close. My head tilted to the side and he sighed in pleasure. Taking his large palms and gripping my shoulders. I fell against his chest, too tired to lift my legs. "You love me." Banda whispered, pride filling his malicious smile. He fixed himself up before grasping my legs, and handling me into a bridal hold. "You wish.." I breathed out against his chest, smirking with the remainder of my energy. I could feel his heartbeat, and his chest shake as he chuckled. 

Grey smeared past me in the form of cell walls. Though I couldn't be too sure. My consciousness drifted past me, circling over my dazed head like a sea. 

"I see I haven't fucked you into insanity yet?" He breathed. An obvious smirk on his features. "Round two?"

[elusiveclownbox]

SOME ANDREIL/NEIL/ANDREW CODED SONGS (in my humble opinion)(with links to listen)

(because i have the biggest brainrot, they’re also just great songs so please give them a listen!)

Neath The Grove Is A Heart

Yaelokre

“Home is where we are now. Home is where you are. Home is where I am standing. Where I'Il be staying forever now”

this entire post is just gonna be my biased interpretations of songs but honestly the entire song gives vibes to me…the places that one would refer to as “home” being a constant ever changing cycle of different places, never being able to stay and settle in a physical place. but finding a home in someone else.

Room By Room

Shayfer James (I’ve almost exclusively been listening to him, so the rest of the songs are his oops)

“If the keys in my hand turned a lock of your hair I would walk through the glance, but I'd stop at the stare. And I'd follow it down To the very last step and I'd wait by the room where your secrets are kept”

THOSE ARE THE FIRST LYRICS cmon mannnn,,,learning the brutal past of someone you love as they allow you in, do i even need to say it?

First Date

Shayfer James

“Tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine, I think we will get along fine. Tell me your riddle, I'll tell you my rhyme, I think we will get along fine. And if the rules change, don't hesitate to say you've had enough of me”

It’s literally the whole beginning of their relationship, a truth for truth, trade for trade. The game of, maybe not necessarily originally trust, but of mutual understanding that grows into trust and respect.

Your Father’s Son

Shayfer James

“So if you're any good at bluffing, I suggest you do it quick 'cause everyone is next to nothing, and every tock will have a tick. It fits so well. What you've become is your father's son which will never be much of anyone”

Oh Neil, you poor boy cowering in the shadow of your father, his legacy locked within your image and the face you share with him. No matter what new name and identity you create, you know your father will never be far behind, you will always be his son. At least, that’s how it used to be.

Learning to Be Lost

Shayfer James

“I am a plagiarized autobiography of wreckage, a shipwreck in sheep's clothes. Be patient with me, I am learning to be lost. Don't be gentle. Never gentle. Be mindful of me, I will sink at any cost”

This I feel resonates more with Andrew, but one could argue resonates with both. They both have tortured pasts that are unspeakable to almost all but each other, but Andrew shoves that past and those memories behind a face of calm indifference and apathy. But they are both navigating a relationship with each other that they are unfamiliar with, and didn’t necessarily intend to enter. As they reveal bit and bit of their pasts, they don’t want pity or sympathy, their pasts are what created them and they refuse to be treated as though they are broken, especially Andrew.

Lullaby

Shayfer James & Kate Douglas

“People can't be trusted and we have to fight to stay alive. We'll always be the enemy, oh. Eye for eye and limb for limb, The blood that I've been swimming in, oh. Mother, I've grown tired of this. Mother, I've grown tired of this. There's beauty and there's empathy, some people might've cared for me. I hid my heart, and stayed inside, instead of moving with the tide”

THIS IS ALLLLL NEIL BABYYY. Blindly continuing to follow his mother’s words and advice, she kept him safe for so long after all (in her own way). He trusted that she loved him, wanted to protect him, but he missed out on so much because of her. Missed out on friends and life in general, people who might have been able to actually help him. If it wasn’t for meeting people more stubborn than him, for wanting to just exist for once, he could’ve been on the run and never settling for so much longer. Or have died.

Carve A Smile

Shayfer James

“And with every kiss you make a better man of me. The safe disguise of accidental lies won’t hide us here, no more, my dear. And I would sacrifice the air that makes my body breathe, if it keeps you safe”

They are both so willing to put themselves in harms way to protect the other, even before they came to realize just how much the other meant to them. Andrew with the intention of winning, and Neil half the time not caring if he ends up dead as long as Andrew is alright.

PLEASE DROP YOUR OWN SONG REQS i love good music.

anyway if anyone has actually made it to this point thank you for listening to my babbling. I can associate any and every song i listen to to whatever i am currently hyper fixating on and i need to express it outwardly. Hopefully yall like the music at least, even if you disagree with my interpretations!

[fedorah-the-explorah]

fan fiction ideaaaaaaaaaa! ❤️

Shadowsan has to trust chief with his life during a caper, and Carmen knows that it’s like the only way to save some sort of artifact or something like that, but she doesn’t trust chief whatsoever, due to the trauma that cheif did kill Carmen’s biological father, so Carm is like super scared and worried for Dadowsan.

I just thought it was a good idea, something that could be used later on for you, but it’s like your choice if you actually want chief to make a mistake and then something happens to shadowsan, and then Carmen is like super pissed…….like dangerously pissed………but it’s totally up to you if you want to make it a happy ending or a sad ending lol 😘😘😘

your amazing and tysm for all you do for this fandom, your pretty awesome and I see ur stuff all the time, you are a writing genius pretty much lolll ❤️

Omg stop it, I'll cry right now-- that was such a kind thing to say about my writing. It really made my day ❤️

Anyways, here ya go! It's not very long and I'm not sure it's quite what you had in mind, but I'm happy with it. This takes place post series.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was a light stepper, but that's never meant much to him. He raised her from infancy; he knew her presence well.

"Are you going to lurk there all day," he asked, "Or are you going to say hello?"

He turned around, abandoning the task of polishing his newly--and legally-- acquired swords. Carmen glanced at him wordlessly, contributing nothing. She was sullen as stared down at the hotel room's desk, absently running her fingers along the surface. Her lips were slightly pursed and her eyebrows were drawn. He recognized the look well, and seeing it, he may as well have been picked up by the scruff and placed back in time twelve years.

Black Sheep had never been much of a reticent child, but when she wanted something she knew they wouldn't allow, she took her time to work up the will to ask. She would become silent and broody, and Shadowsan always found it amusing how transparent children could be.

"Is there something you want?"

She glared down at the desk, fingers drawing still. He folded his hands behind his back as he waited on her.

"...Let me come with you." She said.

"No."

"Shadowsan."

"You are in no condition," He said, nodding to her arm in a cast. "How did that even happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She muttered.

He hummed and made a mental note to ask Player about it later.

"I thought you were out of the game," She said, "What changed?"

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "I could ask the same of you. Why are you here, Carmen?"

She snorted. "I'm only partly retired. You know I can't sit still."

He considered this. He nodded.

"Point."

"Why are you doing this, Shadowsan? What happened to living a normal life?"

"This operation hits close to home. Various museums around the country have been the targets of often violent robberies. ACME Intel indicates that Matsumoto could be next."

"'Could be,' huh? Give me and Player two hours and we'll get you definite answers."

He frowned at her, eyes narrowing.

"What is this about, child?"

"I'm not a child." She muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "Forgive an old man for his habits."

She turned away from him.

"Carmen."

She stared at the floor, shoulders held stiffly with tension.

He pressed again. "What is bothering you?"

She huffed. "It's just..."

She trailed off, her fists clenching as she spun back around.

"...Why do you have to work with her?!"

He blinked, somewhat taken aback. That's what this was about? She'd come all the way to Japan just to plead with him against working with ACME's chief...? He thought her issue with the Chief had been long resolved, was there something he was missing?

"I mean, what's it even about? Chief doesn't do field work! That's weird! And why couldn't you have partnered with literally anyone else? Fuck! You, Zack, and Ivy have tons of experience working together. You could have worked with Jules, or Devineaux, or even Zari! I don't trust it."

He grunted. "I would not work with that French idiot even if my life depended on it."

"Why her?"

He hummed. "I imagine it has to do with me being ex-VILE. It would make sense if she wanted to make sure of my allegiances herself."

"That's ridiculous. She has both Zack and Ivy's word. If she trusts them then she should trust you."

"ACME's chief is a cautious woman."

"Oh, really. Wasn't very cautious of her when she pulled a gun on my father."

Oh.

Okay. He understood now.

"Are you worried she's going to..?"

She hugged herself, suddenly looking very unsure of herself.

"No... Yes. Maybe... I don't know. Just let me come with you..?"

He sighed heavily and approached her. He put a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to look at him.

"I will be fine," He assured her, "I've been in and out of this game for a long time. Even if she does try anything-- which I know she won't-- I am perfectly capable of defending myself."

"I know, but--"

"--Have you been doing okay?"

"...What?"

"Have you been doing okay? You know I am happy to have you here, but I must admit that I'm worried about you. You flew all the way here, and for what? To accuse a woman you yourself have worked with of plotting something insidious? It's uncharitable, and I hate to say it, but incredibly irrational."

She pulled away from him.

"I'm fine." She insisted, "God, you and Player sound exactly alike."

"Player is an intelligent young man."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine, whatever. Maybe I'm being unfair, but you'll have to excuse me if I trust a little less after all the shit I've been through."

She swallowed harshly and swiped at her eyes. He watched her silently, a dull ache in his throat and a stabbing desire in his heart to vanish anything that troubled her.

"Perhaps I should move closer to you, I--"

"What? No. Shadowsan, that's-- No. You're finally back with your brother, you don't have to--"

"--I don't have a responsibility to Hideo, Carmen. You're like a daughter to me, and if you're struggling--"

"--I'm not struggling."

"It's okay if you are."

"Well, I'm not. And it's fine. I have Player. You don't have to uproot your entire life for me."

He smiled ruefully. Of course she wouldn't understand, it wasn't her job to.

Back in the beginning, years and years ago, he'd never been one to care much about anything. Life had not been kind to him, and so he was not kind to others. But it was in those early days, the first few sleepless nights before the nannies showed up, that he found himself actually concerned about somebody else. Holding the child, wishing desperately that she would just go the fuck to sleep, he came to reckon with his role in her life. He had, completely and irrevocably, changed the course of her entire life. She was his responsibility, and it wasn't about him anymore. Anything he'd ever do would have to be for her. This was the burden he shouldered.

(he'd choose this burden time and time again.)

"I uprooted your entire life, are you sure you don't want to return the favor?"

She snorted, a small smile that she tried to fight gracing her lips.

"I want you to reconnect with your brother."

"And I want to make sure you're happy."

"I am happy, Shadowsan. I just... have a lot going on." Her voice sort of hitched at the end, and ouch. It pained him to see her like this.

She shuffled closer to him and he recognized the action for what it was. Even as a child, she could never bring herself to ask for affection. She'd just kind of follow you around and stare up at you and wait until you got the message. The other three never quite caught on-- or, they did, and they opted to ignore her. Then there was Coach Brunt, and that was just... Ugh.

Understanding her need, he took her and held her close. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I've just been so... weird lately."

"It's understandable after all you've been through."

"I can barely relax."

He had no good response to that. He pet her hair instead.

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know."

"...I um. You know that I love you, right?"

He smiled softly, quiet content spreading warm in his chest. He kissed the crown of her head.

"I know. I love you too."o

[ilyasorokinn]

ooh and a alexis lafreniere blurb, maybe halloween/spooky season themed?

I HEART NY

i literally had to look up couple's costumes on tiktok, and the idea for this blurb was born out of the first costume from the first video i saw lol. if you're curious about the costume, here's the video (it's literally the first costume).

halloween was, without a doubt, your favorite holiday. you loved the decorations, you loved the treats, and of course, you loved dressing up.

alexis, on the other hand, could not care less about it. he loved it because it made you happy, but beyond that, he didn't share the same love for the holiday as you. he did agree to your couple's costumes every year because, again, he loved to see you happy and what else was he going to dress up as?

so, he went along with your costumes and dressed up as prince phillip and you were aurora from sleeping beauty, woody from toy story while you were little bopeep and your dog was a sheep and even the love interest from a taylor swift music video. alexis was like your own personal ken doll.

sadly, halloween was on a weekday and you had work, so halloweekend was what you had to look forward to. you had your costume planned almost a month in advance.

"lex!" you called out, bursting into your apartment with a package in hand, "it's here!"

"what's here?" he asked, looking up from whatever he was doing confused.

"the last piece of our costume." you smiled, ripping open the package and showing it to him, "look, it's perfect."

he couldn't help but smile when he saw the smile on your face, "perfect."

when saturday, the day of the party, came, alexis noticed an extra pep in your step as you were getting ready, "i don't know if I've ever asked, but why do you like halloween so much?" he asked, watching you get ready from where he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

you stopped what you were doing and thought about it, "i liked dressing up when i was a kid. but you had to grow out of that, so now i get to dress up again and it's fun." you explained with a smile and a shrug.

you helped alexis with the finishing touches on his costume, then you were out the door. this year, the kreiders were in charge of throwing the party, so when you knocked on their door and chris answered, he couldn't help but smile when he saw what you were dressed up as.

you lived in new york, so your costume was perfect in every way. you were dressed up at the statue of liberty while alexis was a new york city tourist, decked out in one of those touristy 'i <3 ny' shirts.

"you guys look great." he complimented, stepping aside and letting you in, "as always," he added.

"thank you." you smiled, accepting the drink he was offering you, "so do you."

the party went on as normal. drinks flowed, and a giant group picture was taken of everyone in their costumes. but right as you and alexis were about to leave, chris' wife stopped you at the door, "wait, before you go." she called out, and you turned around, sharing a look of confusion.

"well, chris and i decided that whoever had the best costumes, to us, would win a little something." she pulled out two halloween-decorated bags from behind her back.

"wow, thank you so much." you smiled, hugging her.

"yeah, thank you." alexis hugged her, taking the bags from her.

"well, it couldn't have gone to anyone except you. you always have the best costumes, every year." she nudged you.

"thanks." you smile bashfully. you said your goodbyes and then made your way towards your car where you dove into the bags, "candy." you hummed, ripping into one of the bars.

"okay, if there are gifts invovled next year, i'll dress up as anything you want." alexis told you as he took a bite of his own piece of candy.

"you do that anyways." you teased, kissing his cheek.

taylor's tumblr-versary!

[chishiyasbiscuits]

solitary! || banda x reader

[2.2k words.] [Warning: Banda Sunato - A literal serial killer. Smutty🤭 I heard people were down bad for this guy. Probably OOC, I was only experimenting. Public fucking, choking, slight degradation, slight non-con, orgasm denial, biting, fingering, dirty talk. I think that's all😬.]

Solitary confinement, what an interesting game for an interesting girl. I was more than accustomed to the concept of prison cells, and lonesome nights against drab, grey walls. I was comfortable with the types of people I'd find in such locations and knew, like the mildly intelligent person I was, that no one here was to be trusted. Nor did they, in turn, deserve my trust. That's not to say I couldn't pass on a fake, deceiving type of trust.

I hummed at my pickings. Groups of wavering souls, dividing into groups, lead simply by one being. They were sheep - Lost puppies. Born into this hellish scape just to follow. That, in itself, was a sign of weakness. Naivety and too much trust in one leader could spiral into consequences no man would desire.

"Tell me my suit and I'll say yours." A voice spoke, with much desperation. Yet in their tone, an unattractive amount of force rose to the surface. I lifted my brows, turning to face the man beside me. He appeared edgy. With dark, messy hair, that draped over his left eye like a patch.

"Bold." I stated simply. Flicking my gaze up his pathetic stance. "Are you really that desperate?" I questioned and the man lowered his head into a nod. "Answer this." I whispered, toning down my voice, and stepping closer to his form. He tensed, face disturbingly easy to read. "Why should I inform you?" I spoke, eyes dropping to his mouth.

"Uh." He appeared stuck. "I- I'll tell you yours? It's a good deal!" He seemed unsure, and his words wavered. I scoffed and took in his features. Scanning the regret in his one visible eye. "I can ask anyone in this room. You're not special." My face fell and I spoke with such an earnest tongue, his eye widened and he backed away from my figure. "I'm sorry ma'am. I'll ask someone else." He bowed, scurrying off in such a pathetic manner, I almost became disgusted. Though the obvious power I held over him seemed to lift my mood.

I watched, criticizing him as he asked a fellow participant. One that had previously caught my eye. Banda Sunato. A tall, broad-shouldered man. With a charismatic smile, and appealing puppy shaped eyes. He was handsome, gorgeous, pretty, but a fucking psycho. He was a serial killer, the causing death of four innocent women. Almost five..

Fortunately, the fifth famously escaped his grasp. Ultimately giving him in and enduring a harsh several months with him in court. He was sentenced to death, and the woman was pleased with her work, though that only ignited more anger in her jaws as she clenched them at the sight of her almost killer.

I was the fifth.

Banda freed a held-back frustration within my features. I loathed him, and the way he spurred butterflies against the lining of my stomach made me despise him more. A love-hate relationship with a convicted murderer.

I had been staring, and the thoughts spiralled until I caught his eyes. Amused, and gleaming against the light as he traced his hungry gaze across my skin. I was the one who got away. The one he had sworn to find, capture and kill if seen again.

He stretched out his neck and straightened his posture. All attention had been sweeped from the edge lord by his side, and now his undivided awareness was set on me. I swallowed, averting my gaze before settling on heading toward the cafeteria. There was no need to be afraid. I was safe, for now.

I hastily took my feet down the dark, dusted floors. Landing myself in a large room, packed from the ground to the ceiling in a wide variety of snacks. I composed myself. Slipping my hand from my side and sliding my fingers over a packet of cookies.

"How fortunate am I?"

"I don't want to speak to you." I replied bluntly. Fixing my hair as I plucked my desired snack from it's place. I spun on my heel, only to meet Banda's fiery gaze. Set on nothing but my face. My breath hitched and he took my arms, sticking me to the shelves, and trapping me with his chest and ribs. "Oh, but you wanted to speak on that night.." He whispered, a sense of teasing in his tone. I remained still, disgust reaching my expression as he lowered his head. Keeping eye-contact until he reached my jaw. "You were more than pleased to cry out my name."

He planted his soft lips on my skin. Kissing my jawline with such a delicacy, you wouldn't have thought he was a serial killer. A monster. "I wouldn't do that." I strained my voice, tilting my head away from his touch. Something burned against my face and I cursed at how obvious my flusterment had become. My chest twisted at the feel of his rough palms. Falling onto my hips, and holding me into place. He gripped harder, releasing a low chuckle against my ear. "Why's that, baby?" He found this fascinating. Almost hilarious.

There was no use in me fighting back, yet I couldn't let him know how much my body craved him. "You're pathetic, thinking I don't know how much you need me." He whispered sternly, lifting his head and setting his intense stare on my eyes. "You think I don't know what's going on down here?" He questioned, though it was rhetorical, as his left hand stroked my inner thigh, and suddenly his slender fingers trailed over the wet patch on my pants.

"I'm not scared of you." I managed out, through the gap in my lips. "No?" He asked. "You should be." Two of his fingers hooked my pants, and moved the fabric to the side. I gasped lightly at the contact of cold air, until my clit was met with his fingertip. Gliding between my folds and brushing over my sensitive heat. "You really should be." He repeated, but lower, against the skin of my neck. He licked at my throat, and sucked at the flesh, all while he slipped in one of his thin fingers. He curled it inside of me, provoking a soft moan from my lips. "You.." I froze, squeezing my eyes shut. "You can't kill me...weapons and murder are.." A chuckle was muffled by my damp skin, and Banda sunk a second finger inside of me. "Prohibited!" I half-whimpered, biting harshly on the flesh of my lip.

"I can still fuck you." He whispered, lips brushing over my neck. Leaving the ghost of a kiss. He raised his head and glared deep into my glossed over eyes. His lips twitched into a smirk - Sadistic, but undeniably attractive. He lifted his spare hand and set it gently on my cheek. "Y/n, y/n." He spoke my name and I bit down harder. Mistakenly pushing my hips down against his fingers. They pumped into me, luring my orgasm, as well as the truth of my fondness for him.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tilting and letting his head fall subtly to the side. "This won't be fun unless I fuck you into insanity." He stated. His tone soft, despite his words meaning. "So I'll only grant you a release when you admit how much you crave me."

My eyes widened. "Please.." I unknowingly whimpered, begging for him to cast me some sort of pleasure. He simply smirked at my desperate attempts, fingering me mercilessly until my eyes rolled, and my head slammed against the wooden frame of the shelves behind me. "Banda!" I cried, sweat forming on my brow. He swiped his tongue against his lips, removing his fingers and shoving the two digits between my lips. "Suck." He commanded, and I obliged. Swirling my tongue over his fingertips. Tasting my own arousal. He appeared content, slowly sliding his fingers from my mouth, and dragging down my lower lip. He dropped his hand and replaced it with his lips. Soft and rough. Moving against mine with such a deep passion, my body was again, heating at the interaction.

He pulled away and traced my pained features with his stare. How my eyes had became watery with the denial, and how my lips had became swollen at how hard I had been biting down. "Do you like the way I touch you?" He whispered gently, manoeuvring his hands to sit either side of my head. He pushed himself closer, and my inner thigh was greeted by his hard cock, clothed by his jeans. He rubbed himself over me, grinding into my soaking pussy. The soft fabric applied pressure to my clit, and the mere fact his twitching dick was beneath these confines made my stomach drop and twist. "Banda, please, I can't take this.." I admitted, whining as I gripped his broad shoulders. Steadying myself as I rocked on his boner. "Stop teasing me!" I cried out, whimpering and moaning at the feel of his warmth against me. Banda lowered his head, grunting against my earlobe. His hot breath hit my neck and I dropped my head back, parting my lips.

"I'll fuck you with my cock right here." He groaned, biting down on the skin of my neck. Leaving behind a fresh, purple mark. His teeth grazed the muscle and I clenched my thighs, brushing myself against his dick. "All I need is for you to admit what a whore you are for me." He spoke, breaths strangled as he sunk his teeth into my flesh. I let out a silent moan, opening my lips and closing my eyes.

"Fuck! I want you, fuck...please, Banda.." My voice lowered. "I don't care anymore, just fuck me."

I hadn't had to ask twice. His pants were already unzipped and his large cock had already been freed. He slipped the length into his hands, biting onto his lip as he pumped the shaft a few times. I composed myself, fingers curling over the edge of his shirt. I creased the fabric, and my nails dug into his clothed skin as I felt him enter. He sunk inside of me, grunting softly at the way my walls clenched and tightened around his much-wanted cock.

"Fuck." He whispered, pleasure and lust shrouding his mind. His breaths became ragged as he slid his hands up my body, across my exposed collarbone, and against my neck - Where he clamped his palms around my throat. Squeezing gently as he rutted into me. His thumbs rubbed, and circled my airways sensually. I was gasping, letting out strangled and strained sobs, mixed with hot, pleasured moans. "Ruin me...please." I let out an airy breath. Staring at his features through damp lashes.

Banda groaned, squeezing roughly around my throat as I choked. He filled me, sinking his cock into me until I began hyperventilating beneath his touch. "Fuck, like that." He almost whined, "Squeeze around my cock like that, baby." His breaths were airy and I moaned at the way he entered me. Fucking into me like an animal. I clenched around him, head going dizzy at both the lack of air and abundance of pleasure. "Banda!" I cried softly. "I'm gonna cum, please."

"Do you...think you're deserving of it?" He spoke, hesitating to catch his breath every few words. My eyes grew and I subtly struggled in his grip. "Banda!" I whined. He found that amusing, and lowly chuckled, inhaling sharply as my high arrived. He twitched and a short whimper fell from his wet lips. "Cum for me, baby." Banda whispered. "Cum on my cock."

He smirked, eyes filled with ecstasy, as he pounded into me. Bathing in the lewd moans I gifted him, and the way I recited his name. Crying it like a sacred prayer. "Banda, please!" I whined, squeezing my eyes shut as I gasped and came on his cock. He slipped into me, each thrust deeper than the last. His fingers tightened around my throat, and quite frankly, I felt as if I were on the verge of fainting. The pleasure was overwhelming.

"Fuck, Y/n." He let slip, moaning as his last thrust triggered his arrival. He pushed himself deep inside of me, slapping his pelvis and balls against me as he came. He filled me, breathing heavily as his cum spread against my insides. I gasped out a muffled moan. "Banda.." I whispered, eyelids fluttering to a close. My head tilted to the side and he sighed in pleasure. Taking his large palms and gripping my shoulders. I fell against his chest, too tired to lift my legs. "You love me." Banda whispered, pride filling his malicious smile. He fixed himself up before grasping my legs, and handling me into a bridal hold. "You wish.." I breathed out against his chest, smirking with the remainder of my energy. I could feel his heartbeat, and his chest shake as he chuckled.

Grey smeared past me in the form of cell walls. Though I couldn't be too sure. My consciousness drifted past me, circling over my dazed head like a sea.

"I see I haven't fucked you into insanity yet?" He breathed. An obvious smirk on his features. "Round two?"

[sorcerous-caress]

I was smiling the whole time while reading that lmao but honestly I think the only way a bad ending Sean could be brought back is by his tiefling mother Bayarmaa or a romanced Tav/Durge/Origin. Honestly Bayarmaa would probably be the only person from his past he wouldn’t turn on and not because that’s his mom but because he literally can’t find anything to judge her for. If he ever was brought back he’d probably break down not being able to handle what he became. He only ever wanted to help people like his mothers helped people, how they helped him. He’d probably be torn between going back to helping people or running off never to be seen again and dying alone and he hated being alone, the start of his romance is a scene where he asks to stay the night with you because he wasn’t used to sleeping alone. But with the Bad Sol vs Bad Sean stuff I honestly think he’d actually have fun doing that because honestly he likes killing more than he would like to admit and I honestly think he’d like the cat and mouse game. Leaving trails purposefully, taunting Sol in the shadows of a cave or forest, leaving notes in his empty cage telling Sol to step it up, etc. I think he’d be disappointed whenever it ended, thinking there wouldn’t be anyone else who put up as much of a fight as Sol did. Also a last minute thing I thought of is Bad Ending Sean cutting off the Robin tattoo on his face that repeats his mom Robyn Hood because in some versions of Robin Hood he was originally a noble.

There is no greater irony than bad ending Sol and Sean forming a fun platonic friend-enemies cat and mouse relationship whilst their good endings would have them being awkward long distance half-friends at best.

Like the single sliver of goodness that came out of this dumbsterfire of bad endings.

Would those five years before Sol's death would be Sean's last ever experience of having something close to a "friend to play with" ?

And honestly? Probably Sol's, too.

They don't want to kill him. That's the thing. They want him alive until their own death kills him alongside them, probably the heat from their fire melting the gold and burying him under it, which is their ideal scenario if he just stopped escaping their claws for one second.

And I don't think their death would change him, if anything it would probably strengthen his resolve that greediness must be purged from this world, because technically it is the thing that called his last remaining "friend" who didn't hate him and kidnapped him on the regular so he'd be near them.

I'd like to think that Lae'zel would visit them once, at least before their death. Sol asks if she's here to kill them. They're at the end of their lifespan and tell her they'd prefer to die by her hand, but they must finish what they started. They want to go out by their own fire and nothing else. Lae'zel lowers her sword for once, bidding her friend goodbye and never seeing them again.

If Sol saw Sean one day with his ripped face tattoo, they'd say, "Oh no, now you're ugly, how tragic." Ignoring how their own body has been deforming and mutating lately.

Do you think he would purposely stay in his cell during the night and only escape in the morning? Just so he wouldn't be sleeping alone? Their lair is probably filled with people plus their family members. They've kidnapped many others.

Imagine if Tav wasn't even near either of them, just off on their own farm with Shadowheart raising sheeps and cows while baking applepie.

Meanwhile Sol is burning down a forest because Sean escaped into the woods and he is too quick to spot between the trees, he keeps taunting them with his shadows and they're getting fed up and started turning everything to ash.

Would Sean even know when they're gone? Or would time just pass without Sol ever showing up to take the gold he stole back. Suddenly, it's all over, no more chasing, no more games, no more fun. Their whole layer has melted upon itself, and everything is buried under a mountain alongside their molten bones. Just quietness, and he is truly alone.

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

TIMING: Late August LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f and Mateo (@fearhims3lf SUMMARY: One of the nights preceding the Blue Moon, a restless Gael stumbles into Mateo when a yeth hound finds both of them CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Night time with a full stomach and no job on the docket was the worst. Bars were getting boring, and there was no way making a phone call to a family member was an option. Eleven at night was simply too late, and Mateo knew how dramatic his mother was. She was likely to think a disaster happened, and convincing her otherwise was way too taxing.

So, instead, Mateo, opted to jump around Wicked’s Rest until he found a suitable patch of grass to lay in. He settled in, arms behind his head, and sighed. The night was calm and welcomed its child of darkness happily. Only thing, Mateo was only one of many, and there was one lurking about. The mare shot up at the snap of a twig, watching the treeline carefully and ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

—

This whole ‘having a surplus of energy’ thing was getting old fast. Gael wasn’t even, like, anxious. He was just full of energy that seemed to come and go in pulses. He’d developed the quick habit of taking walks during the evenings now, going for a jog, trying not to stick his head into the nearest trash can or follow some unfamiliar scent… which was what he was doing now. Under a few different impressions and with the nagging feeling that he really should’ve tried to do something about it, Gael was literally following his nose. Whatever it was smelled dead but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to tell the difference between a dead squirrel or a bird. He wasn’t sure how far he got when the smell seemed to turn from decay into… decidedly not that, instead smelling like something from a store. Shampoo or body wash or something, obviously, though he couldn’t decipher what it was. Clumsily, he stepped out from the treeline where he saw what appeared to be a man sitting up and looking right at him. “Oh!” Gael called. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here,” He added quickly as he held his hands up to indicate that he meant no harm.

—

Oh. Just…a guy? He was cute enough, but maybe a little too sweet for the mare’s liking. Although, the fact that he was out and about at night in a place like Wicked’s Rest, did raise a few alarms. No normal person would do such a thing. Not unless they felt perfectly capable and comfortable taking on whatever decided to lurk in the darkness. Mateo narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man, his train of thought spiraling toward the idea of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. One could never be too careful, he thought. Especially when he had to worry about things like hunters.

“Oye,” Mateo began, sizing up the stranger behind his sunglasses, “What’re doing out here anyway? Got a death wish or you can handle yourself out here?” He figured being forward was a good strategy. All cards on the table, so to speak. If he gave away that he knew about the darker side of Wicked’s Rest, then maybe, just maybe, the man would give something away too. Next step would be the eyes. Glowing red orbs always seemed to startle even the biggest dude. “And look, I know it probably looks just as weird if I’m out here too, but I asked first.” Ever the petulant man when it came to arguments and games. “So, by the rules, you gotta answer fir—” Snap! Growl! “Ah, shit…” Mateo hissed, looking around to see what trouble the man in front of him was getting him into. Was this an ambush? It was hard to tell, but given that the monstrosity that began to prowl looked at both men with intent, Mateo was inclined to believe they were both in danger. Still, he had to joke. “So, uh…is that your dog? He’s kinda…ugly.”

—

Gael’s gaze was met with one he guessed to be suspicion, which was understandable given the environment and how he had just tumbled out of the treeline - it seemed like the perfect introduction between a protagonist and the perceived evil from a Stephen King novel. “What? I was just taking a walk.” He replied, pointing over his shoulder as though the forest would back him up on that claim. Even as he answered though, he could feel his head shaking slightly as though to deny any unspoken allegations that the stranger could’ve thought at him. Granted, the stranger sure seemed more capable of taking care of himself going by what he was wearing; the last person who dressed similarly was Owen and Gael knew he was a fighter. His ears picked up the stranger’s accent first and despite having demands hurled at him, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head. “Oh, would you prefer–” His own question was cut short, however, when a different sound cut through his thoughts and he turned his head sharply in the direction of what sounded like growling. There was an animal there? How had Gael not heard it before? Hastily, he stepped out from the tree line where his dark eyes picked up– “Nope. Nope that’s not mine I don’t own a dog and if I did it wouldn’t be THAT one.” He took a step back, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as the two men were abruptly confronted with the terrifying visage of a large dog with what appeared to be an exposed skull of a head and several tentacles sprouting from its back, twitching and furling in the dead air absently. “...Yours?” The shudder was evident in his tone but he didn’t want to seem like a complete coward in front of this stranger.

—

“Yeah, whatever.” Mateo rolled his eyes dramatically, wishing he could be alone once more. Now there were two visitors and any hopes for a calm night with his trusty headphones fled away. He blew air between his lips, annoyance escaping him petulantly. The icing on the cake were the arms he crossed, expression devoid of any amusement. 

Of course the dog wasn’t his, why the hell would he ask if it was the stranger’s in the first place then? “No, fool. You dumb or something?” He barked out, ignoring the stupid dog trying to taunt them into a corner. Mateo tutted to himself. He had created far worse monstrosities. Whatever the monster was, the mare wasn’t fazed, but it wasn’t like he was a charitable guy. This was the second stranger within a month to lead a damn creature to him while he was minding his business, and for that, Mateo wanted a little revenge. A little trick!  “I think that thing is yours now, though.” A smile formed on his lips, and he stood up, brushing away any residual dirt and grass so it wouldn’t get into his apartment. “I’d name him Cujo or something.” Mateo patted the man’s shoulder, feigning friendship just before he blinked away into nothingness. He landed in his apartment, laughing to himself. The picture of the random dude thinking he was abandoned while fearing for his life was always a good prank. It almost made Mateo want people to keep leading monsters to him, only to disappear and return with a strategy and a few weapons. He’d wait a few beats before he made his return. That made for maximum funniness, always.

—

He could’ve been dumb. Considering what town he found himself in and all the strange characters that surrounded him now, Gael might’ve been the dumbest person in town. And he certainly felt dumb as he kept his wide, dark eyes on the growling, hissing beast as the tentacles slithered around it, snaking through the air and creating a slimy noise that he really wished he weren’t hearing, especially at that moment. Gael was so focused on the large creature that when he felt the stranger’s hand on his shoulder, all but missing what the man had actually said, he visibly jumped with a sharp inhale. From what he could gather, filtered through the fear that he tried to smother in his mind, the stranger didn’t really take much seriously and what was more, he didn’t seem to be afraid at all. The professor, wanting to use the other man as something of an anchor of solidarity that he wasn’t alone, started to turn to regard the other man when suddenly the weight of the hand on his shoulder disappeared. The man stumbled, clearly not expecting that and the look on his sunken face could only be described as ‘completely confused and definitely not at all afraid’. “Okay!” Gael attempted to recover himself, breathing deeply. “I was here with a guy and the guy… .phased out of existence and there’s a giant dog with tentacles and an inverted skull.” He spoke quickly, trying to keep his tone even though he couldn’t stop it from rising with emotion. “Okay Gael, think about it for a second.” He gulped, taking another shaky step back as the demonic hound advanced slowly. “You know how this looks and sounds?” He asked himself, apparently thinking that now was a good time to literally talk himself through whatever was happening. “You’ve lost your mind.” He came to the conclusion. “If you just… Okay, so the guy was here and he disappeared. Strange shit’s been happening in town.” As though to confirm it, Gael felt another pulse of energy tear through him. “Including you. This is obviously just… your brain trying to create problems and likely scenarios.” His leg caught on something as he was stepping back and he crashed to the ground unceremoniously. “Oh come ON.” He shouted through pained grunts as he landed on his back, feeling a sharp stab course up his spine where the scar tissue that stretched across his lower spine interacted with whatever he tripped on.

—

Gathering his brand-spanking-new bat from the closet, which was next to a few extra (just in case creature fighting became a habit), Mateo twirled it in his hands, retrieving a random book as well. He hummed to himself, sauntering about his apartment and throwing in a piece of bread into his toaster. After that, he went to his safe and input the code, opening it and retrieving a pistol and grenade. It came in handy last time, didn’t it? Mateo hoped he’d be able to use it again. The toast sprang up and the mare snatched up and held it between his teeth as he blinked back into the space where he left the stranger. He was careful to land himself a few feet away, behind some brush, to coordinate a little better. The man was mumbling to himself, and Mateo had to stifle laughter as he munched on the piece of dry toast. It always paid to have a snack while you watched a show, right? When the guy fell though, that’s when Mateo couldn’t help but laugh, giving away his position. Oops. It was showtime then. “Hate to tell you, chico, but…” He twirled his bat, finishing the last of his toast. “You ain’t lost your mind. Not yet.” Mateo grinned, patting the bat against his newly freed hand. Chuckling again, he walked toward his acquaintance, gait a little too relaxed when there was a dangerous creature nearby. He offered a hand, forcing the guy to get to his feet so the fight could be just slightly more fair. “Name’s Mateo. Use this.” He gave him the book from his vest with a shrug. “Saw John Wick use this to kill once.” —

He wasn’t sure how long he was on the ground, finding himself slightly set back by the stabs of pain that surged up his spine now accompanied the strange energy that he didn’t like going through his system. Part of Gael relinquished himself to the beast, not content at all but somehow accepting that maybe this was how he was going to die, being shredded apart and eaten by a tentacle dog. Of course, while his mind was trying to come to terms with his impending demise, his body still acted on its own accord and he scooted back on the ground, feeling his sweater picking up loose dirt, twigs and dead leaves that lay on the forest floor. Then he heard a laugh coming from behind him and, in his nerves, he threw his head back to look upside down at whoever it was coming up to him. If it was someone else aggressive… he didn’t want to think about if it was someone else aggressive; he could already feel his fingers extending uncomfortably, trembling slightly as they felt like someone was pulling on the bones under the skin. However, when brown eyes fell upon the abrupt reappearance of the man from before, now brandishing a bat and what looked to be a book, Gael wasn’t… relieved, per se, but at least it wasn’t someone– “Wait, where the hell did you go?” He asked, all but ignoring everything else that the man (now dubbed Mateo) had said, even as he was being pulled to his feet and shoving a - was this a book? - into Gael’s shaking hands. “First you were here and then you suddenly weren’t and– how long have you been listening in on me?” He asked, temporarily all but forgetting the large monstrosity that loomed near them. 

—

“Yeah…” Mateo nodded along to the guy’s mild freakout, completely detached and unsympathetic to how overwhelming the whole situation probably was. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s fine. Just a thing I can do, man. Don’t worry about it.” When he appeared to finally be done, Mateo clicked his tongue and waved off his companion while his attention was taken by the fucked up puppy just a few feet away. It growled and snapped, though Mateo remained unfazed by the attempts at aggression. 

But as he looked closer, he noticed the dog wasn’t pointing the ‘tude toward the mare. “Huh?” It continued the show, attempting to circle around Mateo, and the closer he got, the more obvious it became that Mateo wasn’t the object of the dog’s fixation. It was the man behind him.  The very terrified and babbling man. “Yo, my guy, I think he’s–wait” He looked at the dog, eyes narrowing until he nodded with a smile on his face. “Sorry,” He apologized to the mutt, putting his body between the two to keep the man safe. “What’d you do to make her mad at you?” Kneeling down, the hound seemed to calm a little, almost nuzzling into Mateo. A look of surprise painted over his face, but he was more than happy to accept the affection of a dog for the first time in years. —

So Gael was what most people considered to be a ‘patient person’. He could roll with the punches, casually accept friendly insults and was more than willing to be the butt of a joke. On most days. Now, though, as Mateo was obviously not as worried about whatever this was as Gael himself was, he felt the uncomfortable pulse of energy through his limbs and it balled his hands into fists– well, the one, while the other held the book that was unhelpfully given to him to use as a weapon because Mateo saw it in a movie.

“Just a thing you can do?” He asked, only to get waved off and he felt some of the fear starting to dissipate in favor of frustration, despite the man standing before him who would apparently just… blink out of existence, the dog that was still menacing him and causing the back of his hair to stand on end. Was that even real? Was Mateo real? He felt real, Gael could feel the hand on his, pulling him to his feet. But… Maybe Mateo was just another side effect of whatever he was feeling at the moment. He wanted to say something else, though even now he wasn’t sure what he was going to say when the tentacled dog made its presence known once more and he tensed up, turning his dark, furrowed gaze to the creature with its glowing eyes that bored into him, sending another shiver up his spine. Maybe it wasn’t real. It hadn’t attacked him yet and… Mateo started talking to it. Apologizing to it. “Wh–” He faltered, confusion painting his face. “...What?” He asked incredulously as the other man knelt and started petting it - her?

—

“Yeah, old man. Try not to question it too much. You look…” Looking Gael up and down, Mateo chortled, a bit amused by the nervous and disheveled look the guy was sporting. He blabbered way more than Felix did, and they were pretty good at freaking out. He shrugged, “You look like you need to go home and take a nap.” Taking the nice route wasn’t a common thing for Mateo, but even a man like him could have sympathy. He wasn’t always a monster.

“Ay que linda eres, chulita.” Mateo put his attention back toward the hound, petting her gently and cooing as if she was any normal dog. Quickly, she leaned into his touch, and he exhaled with a bit of disbelief and glee. He wondered if that was what people felt when an animal took to them so quickly and easily. It was a nice feeling, and Mateo forgot all about Gael for a few moments while he decided on a name.  “Angel.” He proclaimed, standing up to face Gael. “I think Angel and I have a lot of bonding to do.” She snapped at Gael, growling as if she may attack. Mateo had a feeling she wouldn’t, so he just laughed, crossing his arms with an amused look on his face. “Don’t think she likes you too much, but hey, that’s just me. I think you’re okay even if you should relax a little.” Placing a hand on Angel’s head, he patted her, instantly ending the show of threats. “Never had a dog before, so I guess it’s thanks to you that I get to have one now though. Really appreciate it, chico.” The hound’s tendrils writhed happily coiling loosely around Mateo’s arm as he pet Angel. “You good to get home? I’m gonna take her on a walk.” —

Gael crossed his arms defensively when Mateo called him ‘old’, but he couldn’t deny that maybe a nap sounded good. Even if didn’t feel like he needed, wanted, or could even settle down enough to take a nap, he figured it might’ve been beneficial. Irritation tugged at his mind, just as a jittering feeling, strange sensations that pumped through his veins. Fear, annoyance, fear, empathy, annoyance. The dog snapped at him again which prompted him to take an instinctive step back but Mateo had named the creature Angel and… he seemed to have been getting along with it. Which, ultimately, Gael thought he liked. Angel wasn't on the list of the first ten names he’d have picked for a dog with a skull for a head, glowing eyes or tentacles that furled lazily on its back but… this was why he had Mirabel and Señor at home. There were few things that could compare to the love of an animal and he knew better now that love from anywhere, even an unconventional creature that nuzzled into Mateo’s palm fondly. The sensation solidified as the other man expressed that he’d never had a dog before. He paused, looking at the bizarre scene before him. And though he thought some primal part of him still wanted to recoil, give the creature its space, he also found himself smiling faintly at the duo. “Yeah. I’m good to get home.” He replied casually, dipping his sentence into the Spanish he knew Mateo was fluent in. “You take your girl for a walk; I’m glad you found her.” He said and with the lasting image of the tentacled beast still fresh in his mind but with the label ‘Angel’ attached to it, eliminating some of the fear, Gael put his hands in his pockets and left the two strange beings to themselves.

He wasn’t going to go home, not yet but he could at least be more aware of where he was walking. Ideally to avoid any other weird, possibly freaky creatures out in the woods that evening.

[thepaintedlady00]

Series Candidate #2: Resident Evil Village fandom

A Sheep In Wolves Clothes

Heisenberg/OC (Amelia) pairing. About 16 chapters planned (can change). It'll have smut, lots of gore and violence, enemies to lovers, smut, angst and so on. The story will start before the events of the game but eventually catch up. The ending will not align with the canon events.

He was fuming as he stormed across the bridge where he knew Duke would be selling his overpriced shit to the gullible little sheep in the village. The whole walk he'd been smashing everything that got in his way. Why the fuck can't shit just go smoothly for once?! He thought angrily, thinking back to the project that had quite literally exploded a few minutes ago in his factory. The wasted parts. The clean up. Such bullshit. He needed new parts, quickly, and that meant he had to drag himself out of the factory and into the village again.

Usually he'd wait for the Duke's scheduled deliveries, they were fairly consistent around every two weeks, but lately he'd been burning through his parts and damaging his machines beyond what he could fix with scrap. Part of it was his rush to finish or to be at least prepared and the other was his temper. He'd always had a short fuse, but lately he'd been absolutely explosive at the drop of a hat. If that tall bitch and Miranda would just keep their shit to themselves I'd have more time! 

Flicking his fingers the gate slammed open, stone grating against metal echoing in the small courtyard. The Duke sat in his usual spot and thankfully the area was empty. This perked his mood up just a bit, the last thing he wanted was to play buddy with the dumb ass villagers. He approached the wagon with haste. The Duke looked pleased to see him, more so than usual. "Why, Lord Heisenberg! It is an honor to have you visit! But I'm afraid I won't have your usual delivery until next week."

"Didn't come for my usual. I need these parts, if you got them," he said, handing the large man the paper with his needs scribbled hastily on it.

"I see," the Duke said. "Give me one moment, I'll see what I have in stock."

He pulled a cigar from his pocket. "Whatever, just try to be quick. Don't want any of these village wackos seeing me."

Just as he was about to pull out his lighter he heard a second voice. Softer, feminine. Without a word to Duke he stepped around the wagon and found something he hadn't expected. A girl, short with long red hair that looked like rusted metal and soft looking freckled skin. She spoke in hushed whispers as she brushed through the hair of the Dukes horse with a gentleness that caused something to burn in his chest. 

Who the fuck was this? She wasn't a villager, at least he didn't think she was. He hadn't been around the people in a while, but he was certain he'd have noticed her if she were one of them. An outsider maybe? But that also didn't add up, all outsiders were sold out to Mother Miranda as soon as they set foot in the village. She'd be dead by now if she didn't somehow start here.

Lost in thought he didn't notice her turn until he felt her run straight into his chest, her weight was no more than a gentle push. Her scent swirled around him, sweet and earthy. She staggered back, basket dropping to the ground and her almost ending up on her ass. Once she found her footing she looked up at him, eyes burning with rage. Anyone else would have recognized him and spiraled into pathetic apologies, but her glare stayed firm and the rage seemed to grow as she stepped around him.

"Excuse me." The venom in her voice brought a surprised smile to his lips. Definitely not just another village sheep.

On the ground in front of him the basket lay abandoned. He stuffed his unlit cigar between his lips and grabbed it, stepping back out into the open space and whistling loudly. He resisted the urge to laugh when she jumped and whirled around. Her angry eyes instantly went to the basket he now held out to her. "You dropped your basket."

For a moment she hesitated and Heisenberg wished he could hear her thoughts as he watched her steel herself into walking forward and snatching it out of his loose grip. "Thanks."

He chuckled and watched her walk away, haphazardly pulling her hood up. Turning to the Duke, who watched the interaction with a smirk, he pulled the lighter from his pocket and lit his cigar, taking in a long deep drag before exhaling the smoke. "Who was that?"

"You know my business operates on a system of mutual trust and ambiguity, Lord Heisenberg. If I simply handed out all my customers' information I'd be out of business, run out of town even!"

"Spare me the theatrics," he replied, letting the rest of his lei float up into the air between them. The Duke's eyes glistened. "Just want her name."

***

The sky had just begun to fill with the orange hue of the setting sun when I'd gotten home. The smoke from the chimney told me that Boian had finished his work and started dinner inside and the sight of twenty potted plants, a newly built raised garden bed and new pile of firewood confirmed it. I rolled my eyes and shut the gate as I made my way toward the house, Stubborn old man. By the way his coughing echoed through the door I knew he'd exhausted himself more than he'd meant to.

The cabin was warm against my slightly chilled skin as I entered, discarding the basket onto the table and taking my shawl off. Boian sifted through the basket quietly and put things away. "How was the walk?"

"Refreshing," I replied, kicking my shoes off by the door.

"And the villagers?"

"The same."

He groaned and glanced back at me. "No one mysteriously trip and fall?"

"No, I told you I wasn't gonna push anyone!" I laughed moving beside him to wash my hands.

"I thought you'd change your mind once they started with their bullshit."

"What's cooking old man?"

"The last of our venison and a modest amount of the potatoes," he answered, stirring the pot. "Soup."

I nodded, wiping my hands off and getting the bowls and silverware from the cupboard. I set the bowls down beside him and moved the silverware to the table. "You got a lot done while I was gone."

"Of course I did, you weren't hovering over me every ten seconds!" He teased me.

Rolling my eyes I sat down in my chair and watched him add the final spices to the pot. "I wasn't there to hover and you overdid it, again. You're not as invincible as you used to be old man… You gotta start slowing down a little."

He sighed, laddeling the soup into the bowls and handing them to me to set down as he got situated. "I know, I know. It's hard for me to sit still, Fetita but I will try to take things easier… For your sake."

I smiled. "Thanks, I kinda wanna keep you around for a while."

"You're not gonna get rid of me anytime soon. Now eat, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow if you're gonna be taking the reins."

We ate mostly in silence, but it was never uncomfortable. We just knew each other well enough I guess. After we cleaned our bowls and locked everything up for the night I retired to my room, lounging on the bed reading when Boian knocked on the door. "Come in."

He emerged slowly, a little wooden box in his hand, and sat down beside me on the bed. "I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous," I teased.

"You're right about me getting older," he continued. "I ain't gonna be around forever to keep you safe. So, I think it's time you had this."

He set the box in my hands and watched with a small frown as I opened it. Inside was Boians hunting knife, his favorite one with the short blade,  brass knuckles welded into the hilt and the tiny carving, Clara, on the bottom. I looked up at him, the realization of what this meant hitting me. "I'll take good care of it."

"I know you will, my hope is it'll take good care of you too." He placed his hand over mine. "I've told you hundreds of times that finding you saved me. My daughter, Clara, was no older than you were when you came here when the villagers and Mother Miranda took her. I'd been away on a hunt, and when I came back she was gone. Tore that damn village apart to find her, but I was too late… Don't know what they did to her, still don't really care, all I knew was that she was gone and I had nothing left."

"That was when you built the cabin, wasn't it?" I asked softly as I squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, left that village as fast as I could, but not before telling them all to go to hell. Built this place and then not long after I was out in the woods on another hunting trip when I stumbled across you, walking barefoot in the snow all cut up and freezing. Took you in, raised you, and hopefully I taught you enough that you'll be the one to get outta here." He looked at me and smiled sadly. "You are as much my daughter as Clara was, I hope you know that Amelia."

"I do." I answered by wiping away a stray tear. "And you're as much my dad as the one I had before."

He kissed my hand and quickly stood, clearing his throat. "I love you, Fetita."

"I love you too, old man."

"Get some sleep." He said in the doorway. "I ain't gonna go easy on ya from now on."

"Of course you won't," I grumbled sarcastically. "Goodnight Boian."

[opinated-user]

Did lily just give her HP aliana oc a gardevoir for a Petronas? And also totally change the magic so it's sentient and never fades away so it can hang out with everyone?

Fanfic is self-indulgent by design, so it's fine that she does whatever she wants. The only issue I have is that LO always acts like her fics are first that aim to improve the original when they're not. All they are is super self-indulgent stories she writes for fun. Yet she dunks on other fics for the same thing. Or people who don't agree with how she writes certain things.

I'd respect her so much more if she just said 'Hey this is my fic, not a book and I do what want' rather then defend her choices as fine and pat herself on the back for fixing a story while simultaneously saying other fic writers are trash for just enjoying a trope she hates.

Side note I do find funny that she really only has like 3 stock characters she uses at nauseum and can't write anything else. But, yeah, she totally could get a book published.

i admit this could be a cute idea. some people in the fandom always speculated that the Patronus of Harry had some form of own consciousness based on how they were portrayed in the third and fifth movies, so it's not a bad idea to take that concept further and turn it into "you can create your very own best friend". if you ever heard about the concept of tulpas, beings you can create within your own mind to be independent of you, LO's essentially doing just that with a physical form. LO could have created a entirely new spell just for that, but i don't really have an issue with this being her new interpretation of patronus. my problem is the "only some patronus can talk given their form" because... why? they're already beings made of light, why biology of all things would be the thing that impedes them communicate? i guess just because LO's characters have to have the most especial pokemon/patronus by default.

... the issue that i'm already seeing is that this is literally just the exact same thing she already did with the AI that rey created. it hasn't been that long and she's already recycling her own ideas again, blatantly so. does LO even realize that or she does not care? remember that AI robot that started as basically a toddler that alaina, not rey, had to teach her about everything until the AI develops a crush on alaina? the thing that we called out as being plain grooming? think about it: -both beings are entirely dependant on another character. if rey stops the servers or brent just undoes the spell, they both cease to exist. -they're both empty shells until their creator/wife's creator takes them under their wing. as a note, how come something can be an "empty shell", but their loyalty still has to be earned? that makes no sense. -they're essentially free servants, borderline slaves. they're both told that they have free will, that they're part of the family and they aren't under anyone's control... but there's really nothing showing that because neither of these characters has any personality beyond adoring brent/alaina and how useful they're for their respective "families." do they have any hobbies? do they enjoy doing anything outside of the people who made them? can they create art? do they have imagination? do they have preferences? do they dream about mechanical sheep? we don't know, and i frankly doubt that LO even thought about it because it's not about any of them becoming actual people, it's about alaina/brent having adoring servants that they don't even need to pay.

-they both have overtly formal speech patterns regarding the "family" as if they were their superior and, despite all the talk about them not being subservient and being on equal footing, nobody seems to mind? i just don't know how equal a relationship can be when one of the parties keeps using "my lady" and being so reverent. it's almost like LO want to replicate the relationship between Sylvannas and anevay, but she missed the part about that dynamic has a different tone when it comes to a creator and the creation.

-neither that AI or this patronus have an actual option to leave their creators, even if they wanted to. they're bound to them to continue living. because of that, no matter how much talk there's about "you're part of the family", there's always going to be a power dynamic at play here that, considering who's writing, is almost for certain going to be abused in some way in the future.

as a side note, that "she's opinionated" and "she's the first one to say she isn't an slave" (even though she is because there's no talk anywhere about her having any actual indepedence or actual rights) are entirely recycling what little of a personality G has on pokemadhouse. this is just G.