#i am just one person at the end of a long chain of people how have loved this piece of art just as acutely as i do

[maggiecheungs]

hi! i just wanted to let you know that following you has rekindled my interest in cinema. i used to be very passionate about it — at one point i even contemplated going to film school after graduating to learn scriptwriting — but somewhere along the way i got discouraged and little by little i even lost interest in watching movies / going to the cinema. since i've been following you, though, i've been reminded of why cinema / movies were so appealing to me in the first place. i love expanding my to-watch list thanks to all the movies you mention / reblog posts about and i really enjoy reading your thoughts and your tags. thank you for that ❤️

there are lots of things i feel like i should say im response to this, but honestly all i’ve got right now is: this is genuinely one of the loveliest things that anyone has ever told me, and thank you for taking the time to let me know ❤️ i’m truly, deeply honoured

[distantdarlings]

BENEATH HIS SHIRT // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 3.7K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Female Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When Theodore Nott discovers an old artifact with interesting properties, known as a Time Turner, he comes up with the idea to use it to perfect his asking you out. (Romance)

+ WARNINGS - Language, using Time Turner, lots of thinking about reader, fem reader insert, not proofread! nothing else (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

All My Love - Noah Kahan

- - -

(Note: Hello there, all you beautiful people! I am finally back and ready to knock out the rest of your requests! I am so sorry I was gone for so long but I’ve had a lot going on in my everyday life. Thank you all for being so patient and please enjoy the story!)

Theo’s leg bounced beneath the desk, the wooden floorboards creaking every so often. His fingers nervously drummed against his notebooks. His eyes darted around. The teacher droned on and on.

Every so often, he felt his hand raise to his chest to gently nudge the cold weight that rested beneath his shirt. He figured it was a bit of paranoia stemming from the valuable thing around his neck, but he couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t even supposed to have it.

He’d found it when rooting through Professor McGonagall’s office last week. He knew how bad that sounded, but, in his defense, he didn’t mean to grab it. He was trying to grab the small chain he’d gotten at Hogsmeade last year—he’d been playing with it during class, and McGonagall had become annoyed with him. She had said he could have it back at the end of the month, but he wasn’t going to wait that long. He’d spent his money on that necklace, and he’d wanted it back.

The realization that he’d grabbed the wrong necklace hadn’t hit until he’d finally gotten back to his dorm. He’d run the whole way and failed to look down even once.

The item he’d held clenched in his fist was a golden chain with a single spherical charm at the end. It was golden, as well, with intricate carvings encasing it. He didn’t know what the hell he’d grabbed and figured it was some girl’s that McGonagall had snatched up, just like his.

He had rolled his eyes in annoyance, promising to head back tomorrow to go grab his necklace and return the one now settled in his palm.

Except he hadn’t gone back the next day. In the midst of getting ready for bed in the empty bathroom that night, he’d begun to mindlessly fidget with the golden object whilst brushing his teeth.

His fingers had traced the end of it, watching the rings around the charm twirl in on each other. The minty suds had spilled over the edge of his bottom lip, and when he had gone to catch the mess, his finger had jerked against the side of the charm just barely, and he was standing straight up again.

The suds still sat on the edge of his lip. They slid slowly, slowly, then pushed over and hit the ground with a wet splat. His eyes stared forward at the reflection of the necklace in his hand.

He didn’t know what the hell happened. It felt like his body had glitched out of reality for a moment. Surely it was just a coincidence, and he’d just had some more minty mess dribbling from his lips than he initially thought. But then, where had the original bit of toothpaste gone? He surely hadn’t caught it. He stepped back and looked around, searching over the stone floor and his person, attempting to find the missing blob of toothpaste. What the hell was going on?

His eyes found the necklace clutched between his fingers. He brushed his thumb over the golden jewelry just as he’d done the first time.

The earth glitched again, and the toothbrush was back in his mouth, and he was a step forward, closer to the mirror. He’d gasped and dropped his toothbrush and the jewelry in the sink, backing away wildly.

And after he’d played with it a few more times, he had decided to research it in the library. And now, as he sat in class, waiting for it to end, he felt as if it couldn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to the library so he could figure out what exactly this necklace did.

If he had to guess, he’d imagine that it turned the world back a bit at a time. Every time he touched the charm in a specific way—a small knob-like detail on the side of the globe itself—the day would jump back, and he’d be standing where he had been a few minutes before.

He was unsure of the extent of its power or if it really even did turn back time, but he intended to find out.

“Class dismissed!” McGonagall’s voice flashed through his mind.

At the sound of her announcement, he quickly gathered his things and rushed off toward the library, not bothering to excuse himself.

His breaths came out in quick, rasping pants as he appeared before the main entrance to the library. The hands that grasped his coat and bag collected beads of sweat rapidly, the small droplets slipping down his fingers.

“Nott? Everything alright?”

He whipped around, searching for the owner of the voice that had just grabbed his attention. Just before him, nearly a foot shorter, was Hermione Granger.

She stared up at him—eyes concerned, lips parted, hair bushy and wild, arms gripping a large number of books. One of her eyebrows quirked as if she was awaiting his response.

“Oh, sorry, Granger,” he chuckled nervously. “I was just trying to get to the library ahead of everybody…I’ve got some studying to do.” Wow, what a pathetic lie. Hermione knew it, too.

“Okay…did you need any help?” she asked. “I am a library ambassador.” Her voice was proud, chest perked out.

Just before he was about to blurt a loud, suspicious ‘no!’, he had a revelation. Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor and a tad annoying, but she was also one of the smartest students in the entirety of the castle, perhaps even in the Wizarding World. If anyone was able to help him at this moment—who wasn’t a professor and/or blatant snitch—it was her. He swallowed thickly.

“Actually, yes,” he said, nervously toying with the shoulder straps on his bag.

“Perfect, let’s get set up at a table!” she smiled widely, gently pushing past him and leading the way.

Theo had not been wrong in recruiting Granger’s assistance. She was bloody brilliant. The only information he’d given her, as suspicious as it had sounded, was he was doing a project about “magical objects—specifically jewelry” in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As dumb as the cover was, it seemed to work.

She’d set to work instantly, selecting tens of twenties of thickly bound books that had to be at least a hundred years old. When she pulled them from the shelf, her fingers fell away from them, allowing them to fall down to about waist height, where they would catch themselves in mid-air. As she scanned the shelves, they floated alongside her.

Theo was in awe of her incredible knowledge; he actually found himself interested in the millions of side tangents she went on. It was clear she was very intelligent.

The two of them had sat at a quiet table and set to work, with Hermione leading the way. She had pored over each book she’d decided upon, choosing between a number of fantastical objects, including a goblet that never let itself empty and a collection of garden tools in Sweden that did their own work without ever having been tweaked by a Wizard. It was fascinating.

Theo had even started working his way through one of the books when he’d spotted it. On a dusty, yellowed page, he saw a near-perfect sketch of the object now strung around his neck. Time-Turner. A small gasp left his lips, and his hands went to clutch against the necklace. It was an involuntary reaction, but one that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Hermione.

“Interested in the Time Turner?” she asked. “Would you like to use that one for your project? It’s quite brilliant.” Her eyes glanced down to his clutched fist, fingers still curled around the Time-Turner through his sweater. He let go and dropped his hand to his lap.

“I just thought it sounded very cool…” Theo said, sounding very unsure of himself. “Do you have any more books on it?”

“Um, I could search about if you wanted to look over that one a bit more,” she offered. Theo nodded, his eyes avoiding hers. Despite his obvious avoidance of her gaze, she set herself back down at the table and forced his eyes to find hers once more.

“Theo?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant. He felt as though he was sweating profusely.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and it’s not meant to upset you, but…are you currently in possession of any school-banned objects?”

His eyes flickered up to hers in shock. He hadn’t expected her to ask that if he were being honest. She hadn’t even skirted around the subject or anything. He paused for a moment, trying to find the words.

“No,” he breathed, his chest tight. He could barely look at her.

“Okay,” she said, expression unconvinced. “Well, so that you know—for your project—Time-Turners can be dangerous if not used properly. Your past self can never see your present self.” Oh. That was good to know.

She nodded her head slightly, eyebrows still furrowed tightly, before turning to walk away. She left Theo staring blankly at the open book before him. She definitely didn’t believe him. He hoped she wouldn’t rat him out.

He got to his feet and quickly exited the library.

***

Once back in his dorm, a thought washed over him. He could use this Time-Turner to benefit himself in an extreme amount of ways. He could go back and fix tests he’d failed, he could correct arguments with his family, he could—

A knock came at the door. He quickly shoved the object back beneath his shirt, shouting a brief invitation at the door.

The first thing he saw was your eyes as they poked through the door. He sat up, tugging the comforter over his naked chest.

“Oh!” you giggled, stepping back behind the door. “You’re naked!”

“No, not naked! Just need to grab a shirt!” Theo said, frantically searching about his bed for a stray tee shirt. He noticed one strewn over the back of his desk chair.

“Accio!” he hissed. The gray fabric tossed itself towards him, allowing him to sling it over his head and down his torso. “Come in!”

You pushed back through the door, a sly smirk printed on your lips.

“Shut up,” he laughed, patting the bed beside him. You jogged over to his side of the dormitory and hopped into his bed, sliding your legs beneath the covers. Your cold skin raised with chill bumps at his warmth.

Theo asked you about your day, and you asked about his, and he contemplated telling you about the Time-Turner for over two hours before you finally disappeared back into your dorm. In your absence, he realized something he hadn’t before.

He could use the small golden jewelry rested around his neck to finally confess his feelings for you—and he could make sure it was perfect no matter what. He just had to make sure his past self did not see his present self.

---

And that mission consumed the rest of his week—or the rest of his Monday. At the start of the first day, he’d found himself approaching you and then flaking out; or starting to tell you, then changing the subject; or telling you he loved you! (but as a friend). He groaned and rolled his eyes at himself.

At this point, there were going to be ten little Theos running around Hogwarts. Now that it was Tuesday, all of them should have been swept away with the passage of time, but he wasn’t certain he’d gone completely unspotted by everyone around him. He could’ve sworn Mattheo, a close friend of his, had mentioned how impossibly fast he’d gotten from one side of the castle to the other.

With a clenched jaw and stern eyes, Theo told himself he wasn’t going to push this little journey past Tuesday. He was going to get it done today.

In the midst of his repeated attempts, he’d gotten creative to avoid being seen by his past self. He’d snuck little tips written onto notes in his dorm, pretended that students could not go into certain rooms so his other self could be alone with you, etc. He knew that that could be dangerous, and he definitely didn’t understand the full capabilities of the Timer-Turner, but he realized that if there was one thing he truly wanted at the moment, it was you.

This was the last time.

He pinched the Time-Turner’s little knobbed bead and turned—24 times. That should put everyone back on Monday morning, at exactly ten o’clock in the morning.

Theo watched as the air around him in the boys’ lavatory began to shift—little flashes of passersby sped around him; Professor Snape even pushed through the door at one point. The day became darker and darker until the whole bathroom was plunged into an inky blackness. Then, it began to leave quickly, becoming lighter and lighter until the rushing stopped. The lavatory was silent. It was ten o’clock on Monday morning.

He had Potions right now, but he’d already written a note to Professors Snape and Dumbledore, asking to be excused from all of his classes due to a raging stomach ache. He’d gotten unfortunately detailed in the letter and hoped they’d leave him to attend the hospital wing on his own.

He watched before him as ten Theos seemed to step out of his body and walk toward the lavatory entrance. These were his previous attempts trying to make you his.

An idea popped into his head—one that may not work the way he planned. He had failed to ask Hermione how exactly any incidents would affect his present self, but he figured he’d come out alright.

“Petrificus Totalus!” he hissed, then watched as all ten of his other bodies froze suddenly and collapsed to the ground, falling like dominos. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, dragged them over to one of the stalls in the furthest corner, and propped them up against the wall. Despite their eyes still staring right through him, they were not able to see his face. He was appalled at the way he was treating himself, but he figured if he wasn’t able to remember it, it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like he’d killed himself or anything like that; he’d likely just be a bit sore in the morning.

Still, perhaps he should have thought that through a bit more… It didn’t matter. This was the last time he was going to create more of himself for no reason. He should have successfully asked you out the first time, but, for some reason, he kept seeming to screw it all up. He was pathetic, using a magical object to ask someone out.

If any of his mates knew about this…he’d never live it down. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie and robes, and stepped out of the bathroom.

You were in Defense right now and would be going to your free period directly afterwards. He knew this because this was his eleventh time trying.

He pulled himself behind one of the enormous stone pillars holding the castle up and waited for your voice to come. Every single time, you walked out of your class, your laugh jingling like a chime through the halls and melting Theo’s heart down into his stomach. He anticipated the start of the sound.

When it began, Theo poked his head around the corner and saw you there—arms clutched around books, gorgeous hair framing your gorgeous eyes, your beautiful body on display as your group of friends turned to walk towards him. He gulped, standing back slightly.

“…and I was just wondering if he was, you know—”

“Hey,” Theo stepped out of his hiding place, interrupting you. Your shining eyes met his. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Your mouth slacked open for just a moment before you blinked a few times and nodded slowly. The two girls on either side of you seemed to be suppressing smirks and eyeing you intently. He took a shuddering breath, hoping that these girls would not be making fun of him some time in the future.

Theo had told himself that this was the last time, so if he fucked this attempt up, that was it. He would throw the Time Turner away.

One of your friends offered to take your books and bag back to your dormitory. You turned back to Theo and smiled shyly.

Gently, he led you away from the gradually increasing wave of Hogwarts students and down a mostly empty corridor.

You followed him in silence until he turned the corner, and brought you out into a silent courtyard. The sun above twinkled over the fountain in the center of the blooming area.

Theo saw you smile a bit.

“Uh, I’m sorry to have pulled you away from your friends, I just wanted to talk to you about something…” he trailed off nervously, his palms already beginning to sweat. Your eyes watched him so closely—it was becoming hard to breathe.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ve developed feelings for you—ones of, uh, a…romantic…nature—wait, that’s awful… I meant I think you’re absolutely gorgeous…uh…” he stuttered endlessly, his perfect plan drowning. “I’m sorry, can you just please forget I never said any of this?”

“Theo, why would I want to forget any of this?” You chuckled gently, a small well of tears in your eyes. “You’ve been nothing but sweet and romantic and loving these last eleven days.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve just wanted to ask you out properly—hey, wait. What did you say?” Theo stopped, blood draining from his face.

“Oh,” you frowned a bit. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but…”

You reached beneath your sweater and slipped a silver chain over your head. At the very end of the links, glistening in the sun, was a deep emerald stone, hard-cut and encapsulated in silver linings. A rough breath left Theo’s lips.

“It’s a Reversal stone,” you explained, “a stone meant to protect me from any charms, curses, or illusions placed on or around me. There’s only a few of them in the world but my family happens to be the ones who originally discovered them and their immunity to magic.”

Theo wanted to throw up. He was sure he had glimpsed one of these in one of the books Hermione had brought to him. He had never been so embarrassed in his life.

“So, you’ve seen everything?” he asked, wincing a bit.

“And remember it all—but don’t worry, no one else will.” You flashed him a dazzling smile.

“So, I guess you know about the—”

“Time Turner?” You answered. “Yeah, I do. But your usage of it was very impressive; it’s almost like you’ve used one for years. Where did you get yours—oh, wait, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of you. Go ahead!” You urged him along with your hands.

Theo chuckled at your natural curiosity. His eyes traced over your small smile as you awaited his prepared speech.

“Do you even want me to go through with this?” Theo asked.

“I’d love to hear it again,” you said sincerely. Theo refrained from cringing at the ‘again.’

“It’s going to be the same thing you’ve heard every time,” he laughed nervously. “Is your answer going to change at all?”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t get to answer the first times. You always cut me off and got to work spinning on that necklace of yours.”

Theo paused and thought back to each instance he’d reversed time and attempted to ask you out. He slowly realized that he'd never actually waited for your answer. He’d gotten too embarrassed and walked away.

“If you would have let me finish the first eleven times, you would’ve known that I couldn’t have cared any less about how you asked me out,” you smile flirtatiously. “All I cared about was the fact that you were asking me out.”

“So, does that mean…?” Theo trailed off.

“I’d love to be yours, Theo,” you laughed. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for forever and—while I didn’t think you’d need an infamously enchanted object to ask me out—I would never have said no to you.”

Theo’s eyes lit up and his lips parted in a giddy smile. Despite his nerdish attempts at proposing the perfect question to you, you still wanted him. Had wanted him for a while. At least that was what you’d implied. Theo could barely force the words from his lips.

“So, we’re dating, then?” Theo asked dumbly. “You’re my girlfriend now?”

“Of course…if that’s what you’d like to call me, that is,” you smiled, sending a wink towards the tall boy. His cheeks flushed slightly as he slowly slid his hand towards you. You accepted the invitation by sliding your fingers against his, intertwining them lovingly.

Theo thought his heart might explode. He was already thinking of kissing you. Your lips looked so perfect and lush… He imagined you’d taste like the sweetest of fruits in the summertime, like the entirety of Honeydukes, like—

“Would you like to kiss me, Teddy?” You asked. Theo swallowed thickly. Could that damn necklace of yours allow you to read minds as well? “I’d just very much like to kiss you, and thought that I’d ask.”

“Uh, I’d love to,” he smiled nervously.

“Theo,” you breathed, resting your lips just above his. “Relax. You don’t have to be so nervous. Is this the first kiss you’ve ever had?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re alright,” you laughed.

His eyes were wide and frightened, his lips parted in a perpetual sigh. He could barely contain himself as your hand trailed up and along his chest before sweetly reaching his face. Your soft fingers caressed the flesh around his ear and then across his mouth. Theo’s breath caught in his throat at the sensation.

You gave him a small smile before lightly dragging your fingers under his chin and disappearing back through the entrance to the courtyard.

Theo remained standing, amongst the stone and the vines, with only his breathing and the trickle of the fountain behind him. His deep exhales brought him back to the present. He blinked sharply and laughed a bit at your boldness.

He was going to get you back.

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @lilymurphy03, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx, @thatblackthorn, @robinyx, @starsval, @jolly4holly, @blvebanisters, @chgrch (If you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me, or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!)

[blackkatdraws2]

I'm involved in a Stanley Reblog Chain and put effort into these drawings so I'll post them here too.

[The other characters belong to insomniphic / beartitled / and marionette-j2x]

[Just me rambling underneath!] ↓

Tumblr has a tag limit and it grates my nerves to no end to know that I can't ramble as much as I'd like to...

Stanley and the bad bitch he pulled by being a loser. Imagine having a hot babe deform reality just to be together with you because he sensed you were feeling lonely without him. [WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!]

It's funny because with the general vibe of their AU, it would make sense for him to show up in the most flashy but also unnerving way possible. The Narrator's [Black's] arrival has to grab people's eyes since attention and views are what he's all about.

I wasn't sure what type of characterization they had so I just played it safe and [tried to] draw how my characters would respond instead of blindly guessing how the others would talk or act around each other. [My Stanley is antisocial and an anxiety-ridden freak.]

Also, I've been wondering what their height differences actually were when I saw my Stanley have to look up at Marionette's Narrator [since this guy is pretty damn tall] so I did a bit of digging and this was what I found.

I had a lot of fun making this by the way. It's been a while since I've participated in any Reblog Chains that involved character interactions and making comics, so it's a real throwback to when I first started posting TSP art in 2023.

Stanley here is an absolute social shutoff teehee, but he does talk back when talked to. His responses usually leave no openings to continue the conversation though. He's the type of guy to stay on the corner and watch everyone else.

As for the Narrator [Black] he's a bit strange. He's proper in public, but he doesn't think the other people are special [or not as special as he is at least]. He just doesn't care to be honest, he keeps to himself [along with Stanley] and that's it. It's a miracle for Stanley to have even pulled somebody like Black considering their personalities are the type to clash with one another. [They love each other though, genuinely. Despite how deranged they can be towards each other sometimes, that development took a long time to be nurtured into something healthier for those two.]

Also, 4th wall breaking in action!!!!!!!!!!!

Black didn't want to interrupt this comic since it was made for Stanley but after the other three came in he lost reservations and came in as well.

[Copy and Pasting the tags of my other post because I am NOT re-writing all of this...]

These two would probably just stay in their own spot [somewhere quiet and more alone]. This place is a bit too crowded for their liking. But I would be very happy to jump on any opportunity to make my guys interact with the others!!!!! Don't be afraid to throw a bone [prompt] for me to bite on, okay?

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a spooky Tim au that I think you would like.

Tim is not human and has never been. He knows this. His "parents" know this. The rouges know this. However, none of the Bats but one know this. When around the Bats, Tim looks like a Normal Human. His skin is pale but does look like flesh and his eyes are weirdly pale but they still look like eyes. His hair has a weird texture but its prob just his shampoo, so surely the slightly off texture in how his skin feels is just his lotion, right? His teeth are a bit sharp but still human teeth and his movements a bit odd, but what Bat doesn't move strangely?

However when they aren't around, it is a totally different story. His skin changes to look like porcelain and his eyes are so very clearly made of painted glass. His hair is made of string and twine died black and when its fist or foot lands a blow it feels like being hit by a sand bag and not flesh and bone. His teeth are made of shards of broken glass and his movements are far to Jerry yet smooth, like a puppet on strings that glides through the air in a horrible mimicry of walking. This Thing that wears the Robin Suit is Not a human, as long as it isn't around Batman or Nightwing. When either are there, The Rouges can see the shift. The way it suddenly looks so *human*. But once Batman leaves it shifts back into being a *thing*.

Tim is only a Thing when he is either scaring the rouges or Truly Comfortable. Young Justice knows that Tim is not a human and he doesn't hide it from them. There is never any fight about his civilian identity because he freely tells them, "I am a Thing made from Glass and Sand and Fabric and Magic. He is not a Person nor has he ever Been A Person. He is not some poor sap who was transformed into a Thing, he is a Thing that was created and then given life with Magic.

As for how Jack and Janet acquired a Thing like Tim, well. They're archeologists. They dug up an old tomb, found a coffin that was chained closed and bolted to the ground and like every White Person In A Horror Movie, they opened it without a second thought. Inside they found an ancient, cursed doll. It came to life when Janet cut herself trying to clean off one of its broken glass eyes to get a better look and the blood fell on it. The pair then decided this was a lot easier than child birth and kept the cursed doll, naming it Tim.

My gods. I love the ending of this cause it gives off the same vibes as "humans will adopt anything" tropes in space travel fiction.

I have one caveat with the Bats not knowing. I hc that Cass knows. Tim's body language is too strange for her not to notice something.

Everything else? Beautiful. It would be hilarious if people keep trying to tell the Bats. Here's a possible scene:

Goon: *points finger at Tim* "That thing beside you isn't human!"

Tim: *fakes having his shoulders drop as he turns slightly away in dejection*

Dick: *absolute fury as he beats up the goon*

Tim: *decides not to get revenge after seeing what Nightwing does to the person*

or

Rogue: "I'm telling ya, whatever he is got string hair, porcelain skin, and doll like movements to him."

Batman: *hums, takes them out, proceeds to Batcave*

Tim: "What's up, B?"

Bruce: "[] said that you look different when we're not around you."

Tim: *tilts his head* "I mean, I like playing up the rumors that the Bats are cryptids, demons from hell, spirits, or whatever when I can. I add effects to my costume to increase the spook factor."

Bruce: *nods and turns away to end the conversation for now*

Tim: *makes plots to ruin that rogue's life for a bit as revenge and a message*

I'm curious how wounds and scars look on Tim's porcelain skin. How does he heal? Does he even have a spleen?

I'm also down for two avenues:

Jason doesn't know like the rest of the Bats. After they start to become close to each other, Jason retaliates against folk who try to demean Tim. He tries to hide the comments from Tim until he learns that the teen finds it funny and ramps up the rumors on purpose. Then he switches to pulling pranks on people with Tim to create more wild theories and gossip.

Jason finds out at TT, and Tim ensures no one actually believes Jason. Perhaps he even starts the notion that Jason was affected by the Pit. It drives Jason bonkers that no one is trusting him or accepting his words for what they are.

[weebsinstash]

I was seeing videos of these specific heart-shaped "slip chains" which are basically bdsm leashes that can be lowkey disguised as necklaces and I started having ideas about "oh what if yandere Valentino put one of these on you and you didn't even know he has you wearing a leash" AND IN THE FUCKING COMMENTS OF THE VIDEO--

So yeah, could you imagine him slipping the loose chain around you while you're serving him drinks or invited for a fun time with him and other people and he's essentially getting off on you being clueless and unknowingly wearing something so kinky (that he has all kinds of ideas and fantasies about using). At first you think it's just a necklace, a cute gift, you aren't even aware of what it means and are just feeling happy and thinking it's so cute, and then, at some point in the night, he gets mad or possessive and just, tugs the lead and you're suddenly painfully horribly aware he's got you on a lead 😳 like. In Public In Front Of Other People, too.

I feel like yandere Valentino would have a full custom kit of toys and tools he WANTS to use on you before he's so much as even FLIRTED WITH YOU. Imagine actually going to fuck this man and he already has things planned, fantasies to try out, and, it turns out he's been thinking about sleeping with you, uh, a lot more in depth and often than you're comfortable with

I'm just. Sitting here. Imagining being mid fuck and little comments just start slipping out of his mouth,

"Hang on, I wanted to try this position with you--" wait how long have you been thinking of us having sex?

"You're a lot quieter than I was hoping you would be, but this is hot too" bitch what do you MEAN 'hoping'???

You fuck him ONCE and the next time he's trying to get you to let him hit, he has a SUSPICIOUS amount of lingerie that is perfectly in your size and bondage gear that's perfectly sized for your wrists and ankles and maybe shit is even PERSONALLY MONOGRAMED, like forget bullshit like "Baby" or "Pet" or something vague, it'll be YOUR NAME or a nickname he uses ONLY for you, so, he obviously had it MADE to be used on you specifically

Idk I'm just. I promise I'm normal and am not constantly thinking about what kinds of accessories and toys this man would have personally custom made because he just loves spoiling himself and playing with his money with reckless abandon 👀 I promise I'm not like, imagining Valentino having entire closets and rooms dedicated to YOU specifically. Gosh. Just imagine the gun case he has in episode four, except when he opens THIS one, the doors are covered with humiliating, exposing photos of you and all his crops and toys are displayed and loaded into drawers 💀 honestly just the hypothetical scenario of, you have never even kissed this man and you're in his tower and, you snoop a little while he's making you wait, and you find this cabinet absolutely COATED with photos of you, and there are also collars and other things with your name on them

also finally just 👀 the overall design of this chain means if he has it pulled taut enough, you literally can't pull it off by yourself, cant give yourself enough slack to unwind it, so you're just forced to sit there with your face feeling like it's on fire while he's actively holding the other end of your lead, constantly reminding the both of you that you're his new favorite little plaything and using the public humiliation to get you to behave. Honestly I think being forced into a one-sided dom/sub kinda relationship with him specifically is a brand new kind of Hell in of itself, but that's a post for another time

[essentiallyleaf]

Ya know what , I'll give you an idea

As a commercial pilot how bout a kink "plane sex"

And pls write Rosé with this kink

day 15. body worship. with. rosé.

1268 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, body worship, lots of kissing and licking, feet stuff, abs stuff, oral sex, fingering, squirting, minor plane stuff, the dialogue just goes places idk, hold onto your suspension of disbelief for dear life, blasphemy(?).

notes.

this is barely even related to the ask, isn’t it? sorry, icyphilosopher, i really am (thank you so much for the inspiration though). well, my excuse is i watched Queen & Slim (it was alright, the soundtrack might be the best part. that and Daniel Kaluuya) and felt like crime today.

The private jet has barely taken off when Rosé starts taking her clothes off, starting from the black heels, then proceeding with the black cropped blazer, the high-waisted black shorts, along with the belt and the chains attached to them, the polka dot black shirt, and finishing with the black stockings and her black underwear. She puts them all in a black trash bag and throws herself on the beige leather sofa face first, completely naked.

“Fuck this ‘No fires on the plane’ rule.” She complains into the beige pillow.

“I mean, if you want to burn them now and cause a fire, making the jet collapse on itself and getting us buried on the bottom of the northern Pacific, go ahead.” You reply nonchalantly as you take a sip of vodka while sitting cross-legged on one of the beige armchairs.

“Honestly, compared to the prospect of a ten-hour flight with you, that doesn’t even sound that bad”

It’s Rosé’s habit to burn clothes, phones, cars, (people,) anything that can be linked to her in a meaningful way, after every job. This time it was a fairly straightforward drug trade with this Yakuza syndicate in Osaka: give the talcum powder, take the money, go home. The road was somewhat bumpy and a couple heads had to pop, but what can you do. Oh, and the getting naked in front of you part, that was a thing way before you two started fucking.

You stand up from your seat and duck next to the couch as she turns her head towards you. Start caressing her smooth, long blonde hair as you admire her graceful features. How could such a cold, brutal criminal look so angelic?

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Leave no trace.” She recites her mantra matter-of-factly.

“You think someone’s on our trail?”

You lay on top of her and start kissing her shoulders, from the left, then move her hair to kiss her neck, to the right, and back a couple times.

“Someone’s always on your trail.” Your kisses start heading down her back, each a little wetter than the previous. “You know how it always ends with people like us, right?”

You think you hear Rosé’s voice break for a split second, but you could be wrong. Place your hands on her shoulders and start slowly making little circles with your thumbs as you keep traveling down.

“We get greedy and scared and die sad and alone?”

“We always trust one person too many”

As your trail of kisses gets to her lower back, right above the curve of her ass, you flip her body around. Bend her legs on her chest, then start massaging each foot with one of your hands, going from the middle of her soles, to her heels, to the balls of her feet, untangling her muscle fibers all the way through. You hear her humming in the meantime.

“So? Would you stop living your life for that?”

“I would try my best not to end my life because of that.” You bring her feet to your mouth and start pecking her toes, then travel down the inside of her feet and up again kissing her soles. “Plus, it gives me a sense of peace, of liberation”

“Ashes to ashes?”

“In that analogy, I would be… God?”

Take a long lick from her heel to the ball of her foot, ending by wrapping your lips around her big toe and licking all around it.

“Do you feel like one?”

“I don’t think God sees himself like we see him” She moves her other foot towards your mouth to signal you to switch, which you do, as your hands reach towards her small breasts and start softly playing with her rosy nipples. “Powerful men need people to adore them to feel immortal. Immortals don’t need our attention to be powerful”

“You think God is a woman?”

“I think God is a depressed fuck.”

You let out a chuckle. Then lower her knees again and place yourself between them to start kissing and licking her wonderful, sculpted abs. Your right hand almost instinctively starts lightly rubbing her already wet outer lips, your left grabbing her plump asscheek.

“What a short couple billion years alone in the button room could do to ya”

“But honestly, working on the wrong side of the law… I think it’s hard not to feel like one” She starts panting a little in between words.

“Ego?” Your mouth slowly travels down her lower stomach while your fingers play with her nub.

“Just, pure facts. I could kill a man that crosses my path at any time, and I have. Mmmmh. We just, own their lives. The decision to let them live on, or to end them, right then and there. It’s all ours. Yeahh- How do you not feel all-powerful when you have that?”

It becomes hard for her to complete a sentence without any moans in between.

“Does it matter?”

“W-What?”

Rosé’s focus is probably directed away from the conversation, and towards the feeling of your fingers opening her lips wide and your tongue taking one long lick from the bottom of her slit up to her sensitive clit.

“I don’t know them. Are decisions over the lives of people you don’t care about even worth making?”

You take several shorter licks around her slit, side to side, up and down, once in a while penetrating her hole slightly.

“What do y-youh care about?”

As her moans become longer and more frequent, her sentences become simpler and shorter.

“Right now, taking my money home”

Your tongue digs deep into her pussy, you try to reach every corner and crevice of her heat with it, and her whimpers tell you you’re doing a pretty good job at it.

“And th-en, what?”

Your mouth detaches from her right as she sounds like she’s going to give in. You get on your knees and pause for a second, looking at the empty floor of the plane. 

“...I don’t know, a legacy?”

“Villains have no legacy, they only leave bloody paper and hate behind them”

You get back down to face her, staring right down Rosé’s deep brown orbs. Your fingers return to her lower lips, and two of them make their way into her slippery walls, drawing a loud groan off of her. You start pumping in and out of her at an ever increasing pace.

“Love. I want someone to come back home to, to be there, waiting for me, to heal my wounds.” She’s now moaning right in your face, her pitch getting higher and higher, signaling her impending high, but her eyes are wide open and locked on yours. “To be able to spend time with, in silence, without it feeling awkward, not needing to worry about the future, just looking at her in the eyes, and, being in love.”

A few final pumps and Rosé starts repeatedly contracting around you, a stream of unholy water covering your entire hand and wrist in a profane coating, only a deep, tongue-filled kiss muting her screams as she finally can’t keep her eyes open anymore. You close yours with her as her arms wrap around your neck. The kiss lasts far longer than the already lengthy while she takes to recover from her strong orgasm. As both of you stare into each other’s pupils again, you’re the first to talk.

“How do you know when you’ve found what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll start from, looking at the junk I’ve collected on my way, before burning it”

-

footnotes.

god is a journey. progressively, leaf.

[leclsrc]

darling audrey, congratulations on 5000 followers! ur witty personality and words of gold have charmed us all <3 considering your celebration, i would like to request a drabble with charles based on the song margaret by lana del rey. there’s just something about “he met margaret on the rooftop, she was wearing white, and he was like, ‘i might be in trouble’” or “when you know, you know” ughhhhh love is so sickeningly wonderful

good as gold – cl16

This is the story of Charles experiencing a rooftop conversation with a stranger. For Charles, this is the story he will tell of how he met the love of his life for the first time.

auds here... much like lana in this song i am messy with the pen, but missed this blog very much, i love you all & genuinely hope you're well mmmwaaahhhh :)

You’re wearing this dress. This long, white, lace-linen thing, too chilly for a London rooftop, too chilly for a London ground floor, too chilly for London, really. It’s the first thing Charles says to you, as a poor excuse for an opener, but you soothe his supposed troubles away with a laugh and a wave of a hand. It’s alright, I’m used to the cold, your lips form cloudily. Worst case scenario, I spill some wine on the dress.

The wine you mention is in a glass wrapped by your left hand, which brings itself upward to your lips, staining them violet for a second before you lick the residue off. You should know, I’m more a white wine kind of girl. He laughs, and every other word he thought would come easy comes so stuck, wrestled out of him. For once it’s not because he’s nervous, definitely not because he’s unsure. In fact he’s never felt surer of himself, and his self-assurance is almost foolish if it wasn’t so resolute in the fact that he’d one day like to slip a band over your blank slate of a ring finger.

Already he feels like it’s too late, he’s missed out on too much time with you. He should’ve known this laugh years ago, felt your skin when he was much younger, known you in an embarrassing phase while he was in his own. His desires feel childish, juvenile, but they feel so real, so much so that he verbalizes them to Lando in a desperate attempt to stave them off at the end of the night.

But that is later and this is now, now you tell him you’re here for work. You’re a something-something at somewhere, too professional for him to repeat back to himself in the fluid way you’re gifted. He asks what else is keeping you in a city like London and he phrases it like London is a shit city, and you joke: “Aside from the fact that it’s basically a first-world city?” He stutters in response, he stutters. “I’m joking. It’s work.”

Work, you say, not a guy, not a girl, work. No ring on your finger. You, like him, are committed to nothing but work. And because you’re two people in your early twenties, the rooftop conversation gradually ebbs in that direction, a foray into the worlds you’ve traversed by yourselves. He shares, ever a man of little words, stories of ex-girlfriends he’d rather not bring up again. He says the usual. He’s thankful, but it’s over.

You too, you sentiment. A while ago. I knew him for years, but we wanted different things. Just wasn’t right, something like that. Your index finger tugs at the plain gold chain resting on your collarbones and slides back and forth. The lights—strung up on poles on the roof and from establishments below—shine on certain angles, illuminate your hair, the beauty mark on your cheekbone, the stain of burgundy lip gloss on the wine glass in your hand. “Maybe in another universe.”

“Do you believe in that?” He asks. All he knows about possible universes is that Marvel and that Oscar-winning A24 film Lewis made half the grid watch and give roses to. The concept is interesting and likely true, but he feels secure thinking this is his only universe. Which, technically, is true, too.

You say kind of. “But that idea gives us too much allowance for mistakes.”

“I know. I guess I believe in it in a…” He’s afraid he sounds stupid, but your eyes are egging him on, genuinely curious, burning bright with a want for him to keep talking. “In a… I feel like I’ve met you before, kind of way.” Like he knows everything he has to know about you and him and it’s been barely an hour.

“I get that.” You pause. “I get that.” Then, with a pretty smile and meek hand over the linen chest of your dress, you excuse yourself to refill wine and make talk with the party host. He lingers, of course, watches the sway of your dress, waits to see if you will turn and smile a funny little just us smile, but of course you don’t. You’re a stranger after all. He turns away to find Lando, and for a second he feels like there are eyes on him, but he keeps walking and shakes it off.

“Marry?” Lando repeats half an hour later, when they’re both tugging their coats on. “You just met her. She got out of a long-term relationship a while ago. And so did you.”

They’re in the foyer of the townhouse, and Lando is pulling open the door now, under the impression that his words successfully permeated Charles’ delusions. He turns and Charles is stationary on the last step, humming to himself.

“Mate,” bogs Lando, eyes dead serious. “How do you even know—”

“I know.” Charles says simply. He never even had to ask himself. He just did. He just does. “I have to run up and do something… don’t wait up.”

[evelynwinters1]

Yan!BSD character imagines + Yan!Fyodor oneshot at end

Dazai:

I can imagine a scene from Heathers, but instead of him finding you hanging and choosing to blow up the school only to see you alive, he would most likely abduct you and blow up the house he keeps you in with him and his delusional obsession.

Jouno:

Just give up. You are never getting out. He would find reasons to skip work if he has to. (It wouldn't matter how petty the reason) He would go lengths farther than the sun to simply stay in your presence. I can see him in an entirely different room (probably across the house even) eavesdropping on you whispering your plan of escape to yourself. How amusing.

Ranpo:

Another one you should give up escaping from. He has already deduced your plan of escape whenever and however you try to do it. He also knows where you will go if you do manage to escape and is waiting for you when you get there. I can see the reader/ yn trying to buy their escape by bribing ranpo with sweets and snacks at first, but he already seen through this method a while ago and went to go refill his stash. (Most definitely got you anything you may need with it)

P.s. I am still laughing at the thought of the cashiers face when he gets a mountain of snacks and pads/tampons and/or condoms. Shooketh!

Atsushi:

Would make sure you never suspected anything. This lovable idiot would turn full paranoid phsycopath and back again depending on if you were around or not. I can imagine him two-facing you and the detective agency. The agency sees his obsessive paranoia while you see his clingy side.

Chuuya:

Would definitely keep the anger issues (Yes. Even around you.) The main difference would be the direction of what he's angry at. The mafia - as usual. You - trying to escape. I can see a moment when you do escape, after seeing him activate his gift, you would be so terrified to leave him ever again. The sheer amount of strength it would take to not rip you in half with his gift would be immense. Very possessive. Chihuahua.

Mori:

(Now hear me out, I know that a lot of people would rather see him dead. But . . . . Yes.)

More platonic than the others, but equally as obsessive. Would make a secret room off of his main office that only him and Elise would ever know about. No one is to deliver food to you no matter how trusted the individual is. No one is to visit you other than him and Elise. No one will hear about you, let alone see you. Your very existence is hidden from everyone but Mori and Elise. I can see him putting motion sensors in front of the door to his office that notifies him when someone is near (like a ring doorbell but without the camera. He doesn't need it 'cuz no one will know about you anyway.)

Nikolai:

Would definitely have something I like to call the "house of mirrors" complex. Everything that happens to you is simply your fault. But it's completely okay because look how beautiful and special you are! Would convince you that you wanted it.

You wanted him to kidnap you, why else would you make yourself look so vulnerable? You wanted to be punished, why else would you try to leave him?

That kind of thing. A ton of gaslighting. Punish, pretend, praise, repeat.

His perfect doll.

Sigma:

Let's be honest, even as a yandere, he is still a cinnamon roll. Sure, he'll kidnap you, lock you in a room with plenty of space and light (only he would have the key), and put a chain around your ankle that the other end was bolted to the floor. But you would have a walk-in closet, a full bathroom with any necessity you could dream of, a king-sized bed (possibly a large vanity), a desk always stocked, and him.

He would give you meals that he had prepared and cooked personally. He would be at your every beck and call. It didn't matter what you needed, as long as he deemed it safe for you to have, he'd give it to you. Anything from around the world. The price didn't matter, you did.

Edgar:

His muse. Everything about you, whether it be physical or not, was enchanting to him. Even Ranpoe got jealous of his attention being on you. After all, he almost completely gave up contesting with his so-called rival. A good portion of his poems were based on his muse. He didn't need to kidnap you per sé, you waltzed in yourself. Exited that you finally tracked down your favorite author for nothing more than an autograph. (One would almost think you were the stalker)

His shyness and anxiety were key factors of him nearly panicking when he first met you. In time, however, he warmed up to you. Arguably faster than he would like to admit. You would visit him several times after finding him and try and get to know him.

I can imagine when he finally acknowledged his infatuation with you, he asks you if you could get something out of his room for him, telling you that it's a gift for you and he wants it to be a surprise. When you enter and start looking around for anything that stuck out to you, he closes and locks the door. Karl was also in the room with you to serve as both emotional support and security. But you didn't need to know that.

Fyodor:

!!warning!!: kind of cringe, written in a hurry, stalking, mentions of death, manipulation!!

For those of you who bothered to read this whole thing and reach the end, you are in for a treat. Because yandere fyodor wouldn't be as impatient as the others. Obsessed, yes. But impatient, absolutely not. The final result would collapse if he was.

He loved watching you live your daily life through the miniscule cameras he placed strategically throughout your entire house, car, even where you work. How? He has his ways. Every morale any human has tends to be abandoned when he can show the world their darkest secrets with the click of a button. Your boss was no exception. Living on your own was a pain sometimes. Most cleaning couldn't get done until about a week later because of exhaustion. Most of the time, when you got off of work, you'd simply crash in bed. As much as Fyodor loved watching you sleep, he worried a lot about you. Mainly not eating enough (if at all), and if you did, it was mainly cup noodles, canned food, or the occasional leftovers of food you bought during your break at work. He was going to wait until you nearly reached poverty. To be your savior, and casually press himself into your life and your heart. This method (according to his calculations) took the least effort, but the most time. It also raised the chance of success. When he finally gets to you, he will play innocent. He will tell you that he knew nothing about you but get you your favorites. All to paint himself as the perfect ideal man to you. Your soulmate even.

On a walk with him late at night, you both happen to run into a man you now know as Dazai. You could immediately sence Fyodor tense. He made it seem like you both were simply too focused on each other to see where you two were going and briskly guided you back home. You looked for Dazai wondering why it was fyodor tensed so quick (he never did explain why when you asked him), and you ran into him on your way to the post office where he introduced himself. He seemed a bit quirky but hilarious sometimes. That was until he asked about Fyodor. Without much thought, you told him about the start of a relationship between the two of you and how you met. Dazai looked absolutely shocked, told you about his work, where it is, and invited you to talk about 'the details' of Fyodor's identity. The two of you went your separate ways.

You came home to find it devoid of presence. Fyodor left. Given that it was a bit dark out, though illuminated by a full moons light, you read a book on the window seat in the bedroom with a cup of tea till the early hours of the day when you finished it and realized. Work. You had work in 30 minutes.

Fyodor was watching you through the cameras again. He couldn't help but chuckling at his darling, frantically getting ready for work (only halfway succeeding) after losing track of time reading with the forgotten cup of half drank tea. He found it so adorable that you had gotten so immersed in the book he had given you not long ago. Calming down from his fit of giggles, he got back on track. Elimination. Either Dazai needed to die or his darling needed to disappear. He wasn't going to kill her, no. He was going to erase everything, even hinting at her existence. All except her. He'll deal with the details later. He needed to choose quickly before that devil got any ideas. Neither option was simple. In fact, both are quite tedious in nature. Killing Dazai would risk having to kill the rest of the agency and possibly the port mafia. Getting rid of all but you yourself would mean not only would she have to lose both her job and her house, but possibly her entire family as well. Killing them would be the simplest because it would count as a burglary if the pictures of her and past possessions were stolen. He knew that he himself could very easily delete any and all documents the government has on her. All he needs is pawns. Maybe he could "cash in a favor," as it's called. The chief justice should be a good start. It wouldn't take much convincing. Only a few pictures he has of the cheifs deeds will suffice.

And just like that, you disappeared by Fyodors' hands. He had to pull a few strings for living arrangements, but it was well worth the price. You now live in the most rural area you can think of. Not a house or road for at least a hundred miles and surrounded by trees. Yet, you still have no idea Fyodor caused this. You are the one who agreed to 'move into his place'. You are the one who resigned your job to be there. It's not like you knew that Fyodor set your place ablaze or made your boss' blackmail public after ridding your files or being the cause of your family's death.

After a few hours of reading in the enormous library Fyodor has, you hear the door open. In all his handsome glory is fyodor adorning his unshaka and a pure white faux fur cloak.

"Good morning, moya milaya"

P.s. Fyodor will remain my favorite BSD character 😊

[cloudbug08]

Nervous III

Carl Grimes x fem!reader

Taglist: @zomb-1-egutzz

AN: both Carl and the reader are 14/15.

I’m completely fine with adults reading this, just don’t be weird in the comments or request any nsfw work of Carl because he’s a child and so am I, I don’t feel comfortable involving myself with that sort of content.

If you notice a small change in the readers accent, I added a small kind of southern twang to it, I personally imagine if you spend enough time with Rick or Carl you’d start picking up small dialect changes, I just thought it was kind of cute? Or that it added a bit to the story

I will skip through some parts of the episode as they were boring or were making the chapter too long for my liking, I added a lil twist at the end as a treat <3

TW: description of blood, vomit, canon typical gore, the butchering scene in ep1 of s5

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜

In the morning, After the attack, Rick practically had to rip Carl off of you with how tightly the boy was wrapped around you, soothing his son by promising to return you, after he cleaned you up and dressed any wounds you had.

The man settles you on the ground, rubbing a soothing hand on your shoulder, albeit a bit bloody, he grabs a cloth, gently wiping the blood from your face, gliding it over your eyelids and hairline.

After you were cleaned and a dab of antiseptic cream was swiped onto the scratches on your face, Rick gently held onto both of your shoulders, levelling you with a serious look.

“What you did last night, that was brave, stupid, but brave, I’m grateful you put yourself before my boy, you won’t ever have to do that again, no one is touching you or Carl again, I’ll keep by that”

You nodded, before you could stop them tears were dripping down your cheeks, Rick didn’t hesitate to pull you into a longwinded hug, patting you on the back

“Thank you, for keeping my boy safe, I’m proud, you acted fast.”

You breathed shakily, nodding once again, the man opened the car door, ushering you in as Carl blinked blearily at the sudden light flowing in, curling back around you as you huddled into the backseat, Ricks nods to Michonne

“Make sure they get some shuteye, we’ll be leaving soon”

The woman nods back at him, the door shuts and she’s pushing the hair out of your faces, urging you both to sleep.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

You clear out the van of all your supplies and get a move on, trailing behind with Carl and the bedraggled man they must be friends with, you cocked your head at his back, intrigued, and Carl talks, for what feels like the first time in hours

“That’s Daryl”

He whispers, trying to be subtle- unsuccessfully

The man turns around sharply

“You talkin about me?”

Carl is unfazed, seemingly used to this man’s- Daryl’s mannerisms, your friend shrugs

“Was just telling her your name”

“She can talk, she can ask me”

Carl groans, you huff out a small laugh.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

When nearing the back of Terminus you’re cautious, careful

An air of skepticism passed over your group when you’re asked to reveal your weapons, tossing your unclipped holster from your thigh on the floor, flinching when a man approached to pat you down, noticing the piercing glare Carl levels the man with.

A distinctively weasly looking man, Gareth? Approaches and welcomes you all, warning you all not to try anything dumb, this was eerie, too good to be true, sanctuary with no price to pay? No, that wasn’t how the world worked now.

You stumble after Carl, gripping onto his elbow

“This don’t feel right”

He nods, humming, you were welcomed once again outside and offered plates of food, you catch Rick looking around with squinted eyes, flicking over to different people scattered around the yard before they landed on a shiny ball chain tucked into the pocket of the man offering plates of food to you, Rick lurches forward, knocking the paper plate out of the man’s hands, pinning him in a head lock and pressing his pistol to his temple

“Where the hell did you get this watch?”

You turn, peering at the strangers surrounding you, finding yourself weaponless other than your measly hunting knife

Alex held his hands up

“You want answers? You want anything else? You get em when you put down the gun”

Rick tightened his hold on the man, tilting his head to scan over the roof tops

“I see your man up on the roof with a sniper rifle-“

He twists the man, roughly

“How goods his aim? Where’d you get the watch?”

You watch the tense scene unfold, you wrists tremble when you hear the multiple guns pointed at you cock, the mechanic noise sending a flit of electricity to snip up your spine

“Don’t do anything! Put it down! You put it down”

The man in Ricks grip yells up at his sniper

“Where did you get the watch?”

“I got it off a dead one”

Rick continues to label off miscellaneous objects used or worn by the crowd of people before you

“Got the riot gear off a dead cop, found the poncho on a clothesline”

Gareth-The man that met with you in the warehouse walked slowly towards Rick, holding his hands out placatingly

“You talk to me”

Rick stares the man down

“What do you want Rick?”

Slowly, the leader of your group drawls

“Where are our people”

“You didn’t answer the question”

Rick turns sharply, a bullet whips past your face, popping Alex through the head, the man drops

Bullets ping against the floor, you freeze, helpless, no gun in your hand

Rick yells, ushering you and Carl behind him and away from the line of fire, you ran with your group, no alley was safe, every rooftop lined with a sniper, shooting at the floor around your feet, you call out

“They’re aiming for our feet!”

You all duck into a separate warehouse, sprinting for the electrical door, stopping short when it closes, you quickly tuck your knife back into its holster on your leg, hidden, in case

You were urged through a side door, keeping up with the others, you glance around at the bullet littered cars in the alley way, you pant

“They’re not trying to kill us, not yet at least.”

Carl blinked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, worried, you pointed to a cage filled with decaying, human remains

Rick yelled back at you

“Keep up!”

After running through several doors, you come to a clearing, they’ve effectively cornered you, you clench your fists as you stare up at your captor

“Drop your weapons, now!”

You listen to the clinks of metal hitting the ground as you remain stoic, your hunting knife nestled against your leg, a reminder that you could get out of this mess, you work up your courage, yelling at the rat like man above you

“Why are you doin’ this? Hunting us? Playing with your food?”

You sneer

“Do kids taste better? Is that why you’re doin’ this?”

His eyebrow twitches, a small bit of pride bloomed in your chest, knowing you’d bothered him, Carl looks over at you, shocked at your abrupt outburst

Gareth elects to ignore you, looking down at Rick instead

“Ringleader, go to your left, the train car, Go”

Rick seems hesitant, glaring back at the man

“You go, he goes with you, anything else, he dies and you end up in there anyway”

Rick begrudgingly stalks off to the car

“Now the archer”

Daryl follows after him, but not before levelling your captor with a glare

“Now the samurai”

Michonne’s eyes glaze over, shakily looking over at you and Carl before she follows the men

“Stand by the door, Ringleader, Archer, Samurai, in that order”

Rick yells, his voice more a growl than anything else

“My son, The girl”

Gareth squints his eyes

“Go”

You follow after Carl, lining up behind him

Rick, pulls open the door to the train car, you stumble in behind your friend, Michonne’s hand rest on your shoulder

“You kept your knife?”

You nod up at her

The corner of her mouth lifted, not a smile, certainly not in this situation, but a flicker of her pride

“Good”

A group of people on the other side of the car step forward

“You’re here”

Rick breathes out, you move backwards to duck behind Michonne, unfamiliar with these people

The man standing to the front calls from the other side, gesturing to you

“Who’s that”

He looks up at Rick

“We picked her up along the way, she’s here to stay”

After a brief introduction, everyone gets to work fashioning makeshift weapons out of anything they can find, you’re crouched in the corner, fiddling with the grip of your hunting knife

Carl plops down next to you, you watch as he continues pulling together a sling around his palm, you draw in a short breath before asking

“What happens when we get out of here”

He pauses, thinking

“We move on, we survive, that’s what we do”

You nod, not satisfied, but you don’t say anything more.

Daryl presses against against the gap in the car door, light shining on his face

“Got four of them pricks coming our way.”

Everyone stands, curving around the door at the ready, your hunting knife in hand, the small door on the top of the train car opens and a smoke grenade clatters on the floor, men in hissing gas masks stomp in, and you fight, getting a few jabs on the fucker that was grabbing at you.

But he was ultimately stronger, tossing you on the asphalt outside, you squint, watching another man dragging Rick away by the armpits, before the man above you pistol whip you and everything goes black.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

When you fade back into consciousness, your hands and feet are zip tied behind you, a fabric gag tugged around your head as your propped up against a metal trough, you squint before looking side to side, Rick on your right and Daryl on your left, a man swinging a metal baseball bat stood behind you, Rick turned his head to look at you, huffing through his gag as your eyes glazed over.

The man stood behind you called his machete wielding friend over to the other end of the trough, bludgeoning the man over the back of the head and splitting his throat open to spill blood into the metal tray before you, you gag, choking up your small breakfast through the fabric in your mouth, Rick, Daryl and their two friends either side of them look to you, Rick groans.

Watching three other men fall head first into the trough of blood and your vomit, before they have a chance to move into Glenn, Gareth interrupts, crouching down to pull Rick’s gag off

“We saw you go into the woods with a bag, and come out without it”

“What was in it?”

Rick breathes in before gritting his teeth

“Why the girl”

Gareth tilts his head, acting innocent

“The girl, she ain’t done nothing, why’s she here”

Gareth shrugged

“You’re son, he likes her, by the time we’re done, he’ll be all alone when we kill him”

Rick grunts again, his jaw clenching

“Answer my question, now, what was in the bag”

“You let me take you out there, ‘N I’ll show you”

The man propped up next to you tilts his head, threatening

Gareth smiles

“Not gonna happen, this might”

He gestured to the man wielding the bat, moving behind you, ready to swing

“You want me to beat her round the head, leave her for last, let her suffer? You could just tell me what was in it”

Your breaths quicken, tears drip down your cheeks, Rick taps you with his knee, reassuring

“There’s guns in it, AK-47, .44 magnum, Automatic weapons, Nightscope. There’s a compound bow, and a machete with a red handle-“

“-That’s what I’m gonna use to kill you”

The man before you chuckles, standing, pointing to the two henchmen prepared to slaughter you

“You have two hours to get them on the driers”

Gunshots ring out while Gareth jogs away , the building shakes before you manage to prop yourself back upright

The men behind you gesture to each other, you turn your head, Rick is vigorously sawing at his zip tied hands before he’s grabbing the man wielding a bat by the shoulder and plunging his jagged piece of wood into the side of his neck, moving swiftly to dispose of his friend.

Moving back behind you to snap the ties from your feet and hands, pulling you up after freeing his friends, tears are still steadily streaming down your cheeks, he pulls you into a close, quick hug

“Alright, alright, we gotta move”

He runs a hand over your head

“‘M sorry, I made a promise to keep you safe”

You nod, moving away from him to stumble towards a table full of weapons

“If they got problems, we got a chance”

He called out, One of his friends move to push a knife through Alex’s head, Rick stops him

“Don’t, let him turn”

He grips onto your shoulder, tugging on the flannel his son gave you, handing you a long-handled knife

Before you stumble upon a room filled with human torsos hanging like meat

“You cross any of these people, you kill them, don’t hesitate, they won’t”

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

You pick up a rifle from the ground, pulling the shoulder strap off of a one of the terminus residents Rick had gunned down, pulling it over your own shoulder

“You know how to use that”

Daryl looks to you, nodding at him, firmly pushing the shoulder rest into your armpit

“My daddy taught me, briefly, ‘fore he died”

He nods, tugging you along with the small group of men, you arrive at the train car the others were huddled in, coughing through the smoke as your leader pulls open the door, firing off shots in the swarms of walking corpses surround you

“Fight to the fence!”

You heave a breath when Michonne and Carl jump out, relieved

You tug on the boys sleeve, keeping up with his father, using your gun when necessary, when you all manage to hop the fence

You pull the boy towards you, wrapping him in a hug

He pulls away

“They hurt you?”

You shake your head

“No, but we gotta go, while we can”

You trot after the group, before Rick stumbles upon his buried bag

“We’ll go along the fences, use the rifles.”

“Take out the rest of ‘em”

You nod with him, the majority of the group not seeming to agree

“What?”

Rick looks back

“They don’t get to live”

“We got out, it’s over”

Your leader squints at Glenn

“It’s not over till they’re all dead”

The rest of the group argue back with Rick, protesting, you choose to speak up

“Rick, please, we gotta get them”

Your clogged voice drew Ricks eyes to you, he looked between you and the group, handing you a SW pistol he hid in the bag, grabbing a colt for himself, wrapping an arm around your shoulder

He looked up at his group

“We’ll meet ya’ll back on the tracks in an hour”

Glenn continues his protest

“No it’s over Rick, we’ve got to go”

“I gotta do this, if you need ta leave, we’ll catch up”

You look up at the man, the man who had taken you in so quickly and provided for you selflessly, he looks down at you, nodding for you to walk back to the fencing

“C,mon”

You trudge ahead with the man before you’re interrupted

“Rick?”

A voice called out, soft, a woman, you whip around, dropping your rifle in your dash

“Carol!”

You jump at the woman, hiccups catching in your throat, she wraps her arms around you, familiar, warm

Pulling away and swiping a hand over your forehead

“What happened”

She thumbed at the yellowing bruise on your eye

“Should see the other guy”

You hiccup out, pulling away from the older woman you blink back at Daryl, small, quite tears are streaming down his face, you look to the woman

“He the shaggy friend you was talkin’ about?”

She nods, rubbing her hands over your shoulders before moving to hug her close friend.

After a brief reunion, she leads you all to a clearing, a small cabin centred in it where a burly man is walking out of it, carrying a small baby.

Judith.

This was Carl’s sister, the small little thing the boy wouldn’t stop gushing about.

Rick drops his bag, sprinting forward, Carl follows along quickly, they both hold her, so delicately, Rick crouches, sobbing, you stand back, respectfully.

Carl turns, waving you over through joyful tears, you’re hesitant, but soon are dropping your weapons and stumbling over branches.

Carl moves slightly, allowing you to squeeze between him and his father, you peer down at her, her blonde hair, her baby fat, her pink onesie, and it’s not long until you’re crying aswell, your tears soaking into her pyjamas as you stare, and you feel hope, deep unadulterated hope that something so sweet, so delicate could bloom in such a harsh world, you cry until you think you can’t anymore.

Mumbling out a small

“Hi Judy”

To your saviours giggling baby sister, Rick wraps an arm around the three of you, something sprouts in your chest, a feeling of inclusion, belonging.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜

I’m not sure wether I will add it in chapter four, but I’ll try to imply the narrative that Carol found the reader (no y/n bullshit round here partner) after she was exiled and the readers camp was overrun, but ended up losing her on a run where she was followed by a man.

Thank yall for reading! And sitting through this long ass chapter, much love

Please comment if you would like to be put on my taglist or would like to ask any questions, reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[theyanderespecialist]

Yandere Mammon X Listener (Helluva Boss)

Base Yandere Mammon Headcanons: A Greedy Yandere

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another chapter. This one will be made into a video as well so keep an eye out for that! Anyway, this one is about Mammon! Please enjoy this chapter!]

(Disclaimer: Mammon is in canon to be the absolute worst! This is canon. What is NOT Canon is him being yandere. Mammon is not yandere in canon. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine. Just do not be illegal or gross about it. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon. Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Thank you!]

(Base Yandere Headcanons With Mammon From Helluva Boss X Gender Neutral Reader)

.Mammon is the absolute worst as a yandere.

.You want a toxic and high-key abusive yandere.

.It is for sure going to be The Sin of greed.

.This man is the most greedy SOB Yandere out there.

. Especially when it comes to you.

.But unlike other yanderes would be, he will probably make sex robots of you to sell.

.Of course, NO ONE Can have the real thing.

.He most likely gets off on the fact that people buy fake versions of you and that he is the ONLY ONE Who gets the real you.

.He is greedy and you need to have your full focus on him.

.You are HIS Daring and HE IS THE KING OF GREED Why would you want to be with anyone else?

.He is also so underhanded and manipulative.

.He knows when he pushes you to far, and will show that he cares to keep you from leaving him or fighting against him.

.This man is the type fo man that will manipulate you into thinking you needed him.

.That without him you are nothing at all.

.Oh SATAN In Tube Top! Is this man toxic.

.He knows damn well that you can do WAY Better than him.

.So He will keep you under his thumb as much as possible so you never realize what a piece of poo he is.

.He is also the most petty and jealous type of yandere.

.Something so small, as you just smiling at someone else can make him pissed off at the person and Jealous of him.

.Again with being the Sin of Greed you should only be his.

.You are for certain seen as a prize and object by him and less like a person.

.You are his treasure.

.He also would spoil you, not because he is willing to pay money, but because he knows if he keeps giving you gifts you will be less likely to leave him.

.He is a spider-like demon so he will have you in his webs.

.It did not take him long to get you trapped in his webs of lies and obsession.

.He would have for sure made it look and seem like he was such a great guy.

.Spoiling you, taking care of you, and just adoring you.

.Once he is certain you will not turn him down he will ask you to be his partner.

.If you say yes, you can expect to not be gaslit and for him to continue to spoil you.

.If you say no he will say all the stuff he has done for you, how he spoiled you.

.He will gaslight you into thinking you were ungrateful and that you were losing out.

.Either way, he is going to get you to agree.

.If you don't well he can always chain you down and keep you and his imprisoned treasure.

.He on some sick level would think to himself that he does care for you.

.He really does feel that he loves you, but his love is very much with him getting what he wants and making sure that he does not lose you, but where he can use you.

.He shows his love no matter how toxic it is by buying gifts for your cause it is the one way he knows he can show how much he adores you.

.So in short he is very manipulative, deadly, toxic, sugar daddy yandere more or less.

.Money and gift-giving being his love language.

.He would also slaughter his rivals.

.No if, and or buts, about it. No one is good enough for you.

.He is the only one good enough for you.

.He also would offer money to his rivals to leave you alone. But they better not get greedy about it, cause they will end up dead for good.

.Side note: Mammon sees himself as Lucifer's best friend and he is a rip-off artist. Making the off-brand loo loo land. (Those were just canon lore for you all!)

.Back to his petty side, it does not take much for him to be petty, and with rivals, he will be even more petty and would get revenge for the littlest of things!

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS finally got this done! I hope you all enjoyed it, there might be a scenario on YouTube for audio storytelling! Anyways I hope you all enjoyed and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

[harrywavycurly]

I’m just gonna toss this idea out here because it’s been sitting in my head for too long.

The idea of a marriage pact with Eddie, where if you’re both single by the time you’re 25(because to an 11 year old 25 is old as shit) you two will get married and live happily ever after. Like Eddie went as far as getting you a little plastic ring and said “I’m sure when I’m older I can get you a better one but here, take this for now.” and you did, you happily took the cheap plastic ring and put it on your finger and eventually it found its way around your neck on a chain that also housed one of Eddie’s guitar picks. But that was when you two used to do everything together, before you found yourself packing up your truck a few days after graduation with a hopeful smile as your best friend hugged you goodbye and mumbled something about not forgetting him into the crook of your neck.

You never forgot him, making weekly phone calls and letters keeping each other updated on your lives. He knew about every important event and every heartbreak while you got the inside scoop on all his D&D campaigns and how his band was doing. He knew by the tone of your voice if you were in a good or bad mood while you knew if he sighed as soon as he got on the phone that he call was going to be short due to him being exhausted from the day. The two of you never lost touch, instead you grew closer and feelings started to develop, at least for you.

You still have the silver chain around your neck, the plastic ring a little worse for wear along with Eddie’s guitar pick hidden under your shirt, as you pull into your old driveway. You’re back in Hawkins just in time for your 25th birthday next week. You smile as you close the door to your car and look around, it’s like nothings changed as you spot a familiar head of brown curls leaving the trailer across the street.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You’d know that groan anywhere, having been on the receiving end of that very same sentence a few times over the course of your friendship. You quickly made your way across the street as Eddie popped the hood to his beloved van.

“Told you this thing would be a bigger headache than it’s worth.” You watched Eddie’s whole body freeze as you approached him, his back facing you. You felt like time was moving in slow motion as the screwdriver fell from Eddie’s hand as he turned so he was facing you. His eyes roamed your body as if he wasn’t sure if it was really you or not but when his eyes locked with yours all you could focus on was the smile that took over his face and how much you’d missed it.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked as he took a small step towards you, the smile never leaving his face.

“Do you often dream about your van?” You teased as you took a step closer to him, he laughed and you realized how much you missed hearing that sound in person, hearing it over the phone all these years didn’t do it justice. “Actually don’t answer that.” Eddie just shook his head as he closed the distance between the two of you, allowing there to be a small gap between your two bodies.

“I’ve missed you.” Was all he said before his arms wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his chest. You instantly relaxed in his hold as your arms snaked around his middle giving him a little squeeze as if to check that he really was here in your arms. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what the hell are you doing back here?” He asked as he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes with a raised eyebrow, because once people left Hawkins it wasn’t often they voluntarily came back.

“Well it’s my birthday next week and I was missing home so figured it was the perfect excuse to come for a visit.” You answered as you grabbed at your necklace with one of your hands. Eddie’s eyes followed your hand as you mindlessly messed with the plastic ring and guitar pick hanging off the chain.

“Uh you know I could get you a better one if you want.” You looked at him confused as he removed his arms from around your shoulders. But you felt your heart begin to beat faster as one of his fingers came and messed with the plastic ring.

“Why would I want a better one? This is the pick you played master of puppets with for the very first time.” You knew he didn’t mean the guitar pick but you just wanted to see the smirk on his face as you spoke.

“Okay so the pick is fine but,” You felt him drop your necklace as his thumb pressed to the bottom of your chin so you’d look up at him. If you weren’t used to the Munson charm the look in his eyes would’ve been enough to make you weak in the knees, but lucky for you this wasn’t your first time experiencing this type of look from Eddie. “I’m more worried about the ring.” You reached up and pushed a few wild strands of his hair out of his face making him lean into your touch.

“Well I would like one that at least fits my finger.” You shrug as Eddie smiles as your hand rests on the side of his face.

“I have what?” He looked at his watch and then back to you with a smile. “Four more days to make that happen.” He leans down as your hand moves from the side of his face to rest on his shoulder.

“Think you’re up for it?” He knows what you’re really asking and he just lets out a chuckle as his lips press a kiss to your cheek.

“I was ready to marry you when I was eleven sweetheart.” He answers before kissing the tip of your nose making you giggle. “I’m more than up for it.” And with that his lips are on yours in a kiss that’s been years in the making as your arms slide around his neck and his hands drop to your waist.

[aledanshi]

It's nighttime and I've just been served a mitw and fitpac BANQUET this afternoon so now it's delulu time WOOOOOOOOOH (this is a long post I am so sorry)

I can't stop thinking about how possessive Mike was of Pac around Fit, the way he threatened Fit every time Pac wasn't around to hear it, threatening Fit's son, saying "I don't trust you, I don't want you near him anymore".

It's mainly because Mike thinks Fit knew where Mike was being kept frozen, his suspicions almost confirmed when Fit confessed that his latest cleaning job was situated in a remote location that snowed.

But I feel that deep down, that aggression and possessiveness also comes from the realization that Pac started to get attached to Fit after he was away for so long, he was starting to be less dependable on Mike.

He may not love Pac romantically, but he'll never let someone else break the chains that tie them to each other, their codependency is a double-edge sword and it's worse than they would both like to admit, but they wouldn't change it for the world.

Imagine the scorching feeling of betrayal he must have felt when Pac sided with Fit and the others, telling him that he was crazy and torturing him for information he simply doesn't know or his mind is too foggy to remember.

You can also notice two different changes in Mike's behaviour.

First: complacency. He's just been rescued and he's not quite sure what happened, he can't process much information, he seems subdued, if not a bit delusional. He keeps asking for his mininim, his little baby, and Pac's just frozen like a deer on headlights, unsure of how to even BEGIN to tell him that their child is gone. Mike's usual personality is very strong-willed and stubborn, seeing this die-hard anarchist hug Cucurucho on a whim was almost whiplash inducing.

Second: erratic thoughts and actions. After the focus of their conversation shifts from Richas and Walter Bob to Fit and the other island residents that Pac has been spending time with, it's almost like a switch turns inside Mike's head and he starts becoming more erratic, aggressive, borderline insane. Pac takes Mike to the TubChunk so he can get to know the machines and factories and as soon as Pac crashes due to the lag, Mike tells Fit that he's going to murder Ramon and then pretends he never did such a thing.

When they're walking Mike keeps dropping books to Fit and when Pac accidentally takes one and reads it he drops it immediately to Fit, he wasn't expecting such a direct threat coming from him, let alone one directed at a child.

And the clips of Fit conversations with Mike, dear god, I can almost imagine Mike's death stare at Fit, telling him he knows he's not just a janitor for the Federation, with the purpose of infiltrating for information gathering, because if that was the case why didn't he share with the others the information he found until now?

Fit's teeth clench because that motherfucker just threatened his son and is now accusing him of not actually being on their side, on the side of the people that want to destroy the Federation.

He either denies or keeps his mouth shut because he knows he doesn't have the stance to argue otherwise.

Towards the end of their interaction in Walter Bob's house, Mike seems more chill and "himself", he gets excited with Forever's plan to break as many Federation rules as they can simultaneously, but something's still keeping him on edge.

"I don't trust you near Pac, I don't want you to be near him again."

Mike takes his scythe and Fit brandishes his shield while walking away, he still has hope that Mike didn't mean those things he said. Mike hits him once, and then is gone.

When Pac is asked what he thinks about the things Mike is saying, he's so confused with what he should do and who he should trust, but ends up answering: "I have to trust Mike because I don't have a choice".

Could anyone have expected otherwise? Those two are glued to each other, when Pac got kidnapped Mike was furious, when Mike got kidnapped Pac was devastated. Their worst fear is losing each other, no prison or cage could ever compare to the loneliness they feel without their other half. Their connection is safety and comfort, but also a slow poison, it can either make them stronger against everything else or become the reason for their downfall.

They're too far into this to stop now.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

hands you another gortash x vampire spawn!tav fic

Rated Explicit

Warnings: inexperienced reader, power imbalanced, aphrodisiacs, vampirism

The taste is bitter, alcoholic, fuzzy; your face announces your displeasure and inexperience. You try to hide it quickly but the glass is taken from you by a hand covered in decorative gold. His lips find the exact spot where your lips touched the wine glass, his eyes not once leaving that face of yours, he relishes in how expressive you are.

"It is an acquired taste," Gortash's words are smooth like the fine fabric of his clothing, "You grow more accustomed to it over time." He loves the way your hands fidget with the ring on your fingers, your eyes lowered and lips pressed thin. He has seen you both covered in blood, feral in battle, and seen you command your little team.

Yet, here you are shy as a blushing maiden with no intention of remaining an untouched maiden for long.

Though you certainly no maiden.

He has wined and dined you, as he requested of you to parlay with him. Surely you can see under his guidance and leadership Baldur’s Gate is flourishing. Of course, with you by his side, it can prosper even further.

Not everything has to end in a bloodbath and he much rather have here willingly then chain you to his bedchambers unwillingly.

Though he would relish in breaking you. Hmm, he is curious how one takes a vampiric lover.

"Thank you for your hospitality, sir."

You do not take the way a shiver runs up his spine at the sound of a formal title coming from those lips.

"Of course," He leans in close, "It is not every day I get to play host with such a famed hero." Oh, he knows about the incident with the newspapers, such a clever move on your part. It would not have hindered you much but it works more to your advantage if the people like you.

"Lord Gortash." You never have… Felt so small. Not like this. You feel dizzy, and hot all over, and you can smell him. You can hear his heartbeat, oh how does the blood of a Banite taste like? Your tongue sweeps slightly across your bottom lips.

His smile is perfect, he is easy on the eyes too. Astarion would understand if you didn't share this meal…

"I uh excuse me I am rather rusty when it comes to these things." You have no idea how to seduce a person! "But perhaps we can retire for the evening? Just us." You try to use the charm of your inexperience to catch your prey. But you aren't aware your prey is the predator and his intentions are not simply to parlay with words.

Why else spike your drink? Vampires are such fascinating creatures. A bit of drugged blood into the wine and here you are in the palm of his eager hands.

Of course, he has long ago trained his body to not be so easily felled by poisons or aphrodisiacs. He is of clear mind while you will be palatable to his whims.

"My, my, such forwardness." He teases you, "How refreshing." The wine glass is left somewhere ago the way as he kisses you, leading you not to his chambers but the dining table. Your fangs pierce his wrist, a few drinks there before you go for his neck. You can taste his refinement, his power, his very corrupted being.

And it thrills you.

But just as you bite him, he bites back though with different intentions. Gortash is marking you, parting, opening, and lifting your clothing to touch you with his golden decorative claws. You hiss in pain when he bends you over on your front, his unclawed fingers between your legs.

Gortash is different from Astarion, he doesn't tease you– No, he denies you over and over until you are a tearing half-feral mess.

"Please." You never had really begged for Astarion, he always gave in.

"Please? Surely you can do better than that." He grins against your shoulder, his teeth biting down on the spot your sired fang marks are. You moan, embarrassingly loud enough to make you hide your face by pulling the dining table cloth up to your face.

"Lord Gortash, please," Trying to hide only caused him to use his free hand to grab a handful of your hair and pull until you are taunt like a bowstring. "Touch me?" The curious tone between your moans is amusing and innocent.

"I am."

You hiss as he stops his fingers, "Gods, just fuck me. Just let me cum with you inside of me." You hope that is enough. You've read enough of the 'A Pleasurable Deal' to figure a man like him might like those words.

His laugh is rich with mocking amusement but he suddenly is viciously using his hand to fuck you again. "We'll work on that later." The promise is mixed with danger, if you were of sound mind you see he has no interest in ever letting you go.

When you cum, Gods it is like he lit ablaze every nerve in your body, you lose your balance and he lets you collapse onto the table ungraciously.

Usually, Astarion lets you recover, grounds you with pretty words. Gortash doesn't, in fact, he wants you in this state. Want to break that pretty little mind of yours.

Your leg lifted and placed on the table opening you up, exposing you and the mess you made (his wet finger shoved in your mouth with unspoken command to taste yourself), his cock teasing your hole before he plunges deep within your heat. The beast within you is silent, content, one might say pleased.

He is overwhelming, relentless, he fucks you as if he means to keep you— To convey you will not leave here untouched or unbruised, if you get to leave— Well, he will allow you to return to your little band of misfits to inform them of the agreement you and himself have come to. Maybe you can get your vampire friend to join you.

[lixzey]

Letters.

The Tenth Letter.

warnings: mentions of depression

Timothée was about to open the tenth letter, when he heard the sound of pattering on the roof and the sound of thunder roaring in the distance. He chuckled, another rainy day in New York. 

Maybe it was instinct that he wanted to protect this girl—or maybe it was something else. Maybe he was falling? Maybe he was actually falling for this mysterious girl. Timothée sighed, before opening the tenth letter, dated July 31st.

Dear Timothée, 

It's raining.

It's the kind of rain that makes you think of flash floods and Noah's ark. The kind that makes you want to wear your fluffiest sweater and socks and crawl into bed under the sheets where it's warm and safe. It calms me, it makes me feel safe and sound. The way the lighting comes after the booming thunder, little kids would get scared—fearing that they'd get struck by lightning—but for me, it's relaxing. 

What about you? Are you scared of thunder?

Timothée chuckled. What are the odds of reading the letter in the same weather? The probability of it was impossible, but here he was, reading the letter while the rain poured outside. 

The chances of getting struck by lightning are one to a million. That's the sort of thing that you'd hear on the news and you'd thank God that it wasn't you, but at the same time you'd feel bad.

Kind of like depression, really. You'd never expect it to be you. No one does. But the ugly truth is, a lot of people suffer from it and the majority of us are blissfully ignorant about it. When a person says they're depressed, they'd tell that person to suck it up and just move on—that there are people suffering worse than you. Invalidating their feelings, they bottle it up. Until one day, they explode. And at the end, when all is said and done, they're gonna be sorry because they didn't listen. People are treating depression like some sort of joke. Even when there's the Mental Health awareness, people look at depressed people like clowns. 

It's a chain reaction, really. Sharp words like knives cutting a person down, not thinking if that person is hurting, and all ending with a heart full of hatred against the world. And then what? That person feels unworthy—a waste of space, which ends up in doing things one shouldn't. 

“It's not your fault, none of it is.” 

But why does it feel like it is? Like I'm the catalyst for all the bullshit. The weight of it all is crushing me.

I'm haunted by the past, present, and future. I want to tell you, but I'm afraid someone else could read it. If you could just look into my mind, Timothée. 

You would see how the world treated me like shit. You would see every fucking thing that made me like this. 

Every night, I'd write a letter to you. Wondering if you'd ever get any of my letters. If you're listening, if you understand me. You said in an interview, “Love yourself for who you are and whoever you are, I'm gonna love you too. And when you suffer in life, suffer appropriately. And if you feel bad, that's fine! Just don't beat yourself up for feeling bad.” 

Am I delusional for thinking you'll love me? Based on what you said? Who am I kidding? I don't love myself. 

You're not going to love me. 

I've been suffering for too long and I've been feeling bad for half my life—beating myself up for it. 

If by some miracle, the pain goes away…..

Joke's on me. 

It's supposed to be fun, turning twenty one. 

All my love,

Y/N. 

Timothée felt an unsettling pit in his stomach. He prayed that Y/N was okay, and whatever she planned—he wished she didn't do. 

Suddenly, his phone rang. It was the private investigator he hired. Timothée sighed, hoping for good news. “Yes?” 

“I have a lead on the girl you're looking for, Mr. Chalamet. An address.”

The young actor nearly jumped on his bed in excitement. Timothée finally had an address. He could finally look for Y/N. Timothée quickly scrambled around his room, packing clothes and basic necessities—money, cards, and his passport—along with Y/N's letters. 

All eighteen letters. Ten opened, eight still sealed.  

Timothée stared at the photo in his wallet—the beautiful girl who he wanted so much to find. 

“I'm on my way, Y/N. Hold on, I'm coming.” 

@lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl

[whyoneartheven]

What head canons do you have for the LU boys? (Yes, this is a request for you to ramble about them)

aaaahhh hello! Thanks for asking, but wow, goodness me

this will take some thinking XD

umm

ok a lot of these are a lil generic or just other people’s ideas I kinda adopted but here goes!

also I didn’t expect it when I started but this got long…

for Legend, I really like the idea of him drinking tea and still having an apple orchard. And also having honey bees! (These aren’t mine originally lol) Also I feel like post LU (this ofc may change depending on the ending) he fell into depression a little bit before digging himself out with Ravio and Zelda’s help… he cut his hair during this time. idk I just feel like that would happen. I like the idea of him having a good singing voice. (merperson stuff but also even beforehand. He definitely sang lovely duets with Marin once she taught him how) Also I feel like he’s one of those people that’s always cold! So he secretly likes to cuddle :)

with Wild, I feel like… he definitely doesn’t use recipes! This is based off how I am in his game and irl, as I just throw things together and never go back to see how I made things before, but also I feel like it just fits his personality! I think it would be hilarious if he named his horses at first after anything that had an impact on him so like, one horse is named Zelda and another is Stir Fry. Or smth XDDD Also based on my experiences in game (to an extent), I feel like he doesn’t actually care about legitimately looking fashionable… it’s more that he likes wearing things that looks crazy XD

on to Hyrule! Ok this isn’t as much a headcanon as a ship but I really ship him and Aurora; I feel like they’d be absolutely adorable together but he’s really private about it! I like to think Hyrule can sew? And I think he’d love to run around barefoot on fresh grass! And just, be in love with nature in general! And maybe he doesn’t have an eye for color; he can’t tell if colors clash or actually match. Also is it just me or does he feel like out of the entire chain he could easily be a Studio Ghibli protagonist? Just me? Idk lol

Time! I like the idea of Time and Malon having a running joke that the other is color blind, and the chain eventually picks it up! And then Time keeps mistaking one color for another (on purpose or not? We’ll never know), and every time the others go wild XD (this may or may not be based on a joke my parents have irl hehe). When Time first met Malon he was very very lactose intolerant. And drank it anyway, of course! also I feel like Time really likes flowers? Idk why! And finally, if Time was in the modern world he’d be the guy who’d be eating food months to years past the expiration date…

Four, my beloved! Umm this is kinda a design idea more than anything but I like the idea of him growing his hair out and wearing it in a ponytail post LU! (provided he doesn’t die…) I don’t think of him as having voices in his head or being a system but I still like the idea of him talking to himself sometimes XD! Also this is just something canon I don’t see talked abt a lot but I love he and Twi’s relationship sm! Four totally has RBF and definitely stares at people accidentally when he’s thinking… also I saw a crack fic somewhere where Four was already married to Dot and had children and the chain were shocked; it was hilarious, and while I don’t think he would actually have kids yet, I think it’d be hilarious if he and his Zelda are already quite far along in their relationship (as I ship them lol)

the man, the myth, the legend, WIND, is next! This man has Opinions. I feel like he’s the kind of person so have opinions on things he’s only heard of two seconds before, like automatically deciding he will like a food or deciding the other way round. (And yeahhhh I’m basing him on my brother lol) I’m definitely not the one to come up with this but Wind is probably the one with the best (and most opinionated) fashion sense (most of the others are just hopeless in varying degrees so it isn’t hard)! Maybe older him bonded with young Wars in the War of Eras over this (bc I love the idea of older wind being there), Idk XD! Also he definitely braids Aryll’s hair and is generally very responsible (I mean he’s a big brother he’s gotta be XD); he starts off almost treating LU as a bit of a vacation! Nothing will go wrong, his family is safe, and he gets new friends :D

Warriors, the wonderful man, is next! I feel like he’s very nostalgic and a little sappy. Like, just in general. He likes to look back on his happy memories! Also (once again not my idea) but I like the idea of Warriors growing up either orphaned or really poor, and living in the less palatable portion of Castle Town. (Therefore he played pickup soccer as a kid; he just feels like he would lol) I definitely ship him and his Zelda (ok tbh I ship ALL the Links with their Zeldas lol). I feel like at the point of LU they’ve talked abt it but Warriors isn’t ready (thanks to Cia and maybe just all the barriers in his mind about being inferior to her or smth) Also, give this man the craziest accent you can find and I am here for it; whoever first came up with that is a genius. Ok yeah you can probably tell I love Warriors angst

XD Sky!!! My bestieeee!! If Sky was in modern times he’d be one of those people who gets sleepy when they drink coffee, fs! He is definitely the artistic one, and maybe during LU he discovers a bunch of mediums besides woodworking that he loves (and maybe he makes a bunch of art for Sun, who knows!) This next one is based off @margindoodles2407’s Forger from her loz AU but the idea that his parents died in a house fire and he lived with Gaepora and Zelda until he was older is so cool to me! And bc of this I feel like he’d really hate being around fire (to the point of panic attacks? Maybe, maybe not). Finally, hopeless bird lover Sky is a beautiful thing. As a bird watcher myself, I cannot blame him.

Last but not least is Twilight!! This guy totally holds conversations with animals all the time and it freaks people out (they can never tell if he actually understands them)! Twi definitely has a lot of respect for kids too and talks to them like they’re adults (by using the same vocabulary and tone, not by talking about things that aren’t good for kids to hear XD) and I feel like he would write painfully cheesy love poems? Twi definitely can’t cook but I feel l Ike he also cares the most about food? Idk? ALSO LET THIS MAN QUILT. IDK I THINK HE’D BE TERRIBLE AT IT BUT STILL TRY AND IT WOULD BE FUNNY

ok, and that’s it!!! Wow, that was a lot…

and I could definitely come up with more lol

[this-acuteneurosis]

A 3-in-1 set of questions for Don't Look Back if you don't mind?

1) Is Duty Bound the last fic in the series? It's already heaps longer than the previous parts, and I'm wondering if it'll just keep growing and how close we are to the end of the AU story. (I kind of hope it's a while away because I just want to keep getting new chapters ;) )

2) Where about are we right now in the timeline relative to AotC and RotS / how long since the war started? I'm having a hard time keeping a sense of in-fic time.

3) Fun one: What is Shmi dressing like nowadays? I'm pretty sure she's not in her TPM grey dress, but what has she become comfortable wearing? Does she try different hairstyles or stick to her practical braided bun? For that matter, what does Leia wear when(/if) she's not in formal Senator's Assistant garb?

Good questions!

Duty Bound is not the last fic in the series. There is one more story after this with a current working title of We Will Not Wear Chains. I am desperately looking forward to the end of this arc and the start of the next and if I could just get my A plot to stop rewriting itself I might actually be able to get to part 4. Don't worry, there are plenty of chapters of this fic left.

We're close to 2 years since the start of Like Fire, give or take. This means literally nothing in terms of the timeline of the original canon since I've scrapped not only the majority of AotC and RotS plot canon, but also 98% of TCW. Time is an illusion. Mostly the important things to know are Leia showed up just barely older than Padmé and several years older than Anakin and every second she is in this timeline is a second that Sheev is that much closer to death.

Alright, general answer, but I will need to get back to you on this one because @saltkettling is my fashion consultant for all my stories and helps me keep my character's clothes and hair in line and I need to review notes with her one more time to refresh details. Essentially, both Shmi and Leia will have been impacted by Naboo dress standards, Shmi more by middle class ones with a bit of Tatooine flair, and Leia more by Padmé at this point. But Leia also has all of her historical clothing influences in her repertoire, including not only her Alderaanian influences, but also people she was very close to the last few years before her time travel shenanakins. She dresses very differently for anything where she's a representative of Padmé's office than for her personal, practical business.