#i am thinking they might find the corpses of the bosses

[puppetmaster13u]

Very close @xysidhequeen haha

Honestly remind me to finish the last touches on the list of all their creature friends because I feel like you might enjoy it lol

[hellfire--cult]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader {Dark}

Part 2: Run, Rabbit, Run {Steddie x Reader}

WC: 13.1 k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Slightly dark fic due to wickedness of characters, chasing kink, mentions of bones breaking, tendons splitting, dark woods, blood, knife play, explicit sexual scenes, many forms of Paraphilia described inside the story, owning kink, breeding kink, obsession.

Plot: Once a year, the Haunting Ground event takes place, where the prize is a White Rabbit. This year, the head of The Black Dragons decides to finally join the trial, and claim what is rightfully his. No matter who he has to take down for it.

Author's note: Well shit, I just... wanted to write something out of my comfort zone, and well... this happened. If I missed any warnings please say so, but I hope you enjoy this, and if you don't like any of the warnings above, please, don't read. There isn't any gore at all, js. Also, I didn't proofread this. Please SEE THIS ART of how Eddie ACTUALLY looks in this story. Can't thank Corpse enough for it!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

BUNNY, BUNNY, BUNNY

The rules are simple:

1- You must keep running, only hide when threatened.

2- You can hurt your opponent, make them unable to keep moving, but you cannot kill them.

3- No water and no food will be provided.

4- No weapons except makeshift ones you may create with natural materials you find.

5- The chase ends once everyone has tapped out of it or one person was chosen.

6- Medical care will take out injured opponents, as well as waiting outside every exit in the woods.

He looked all around him in the big wide center of the room, a ball room. There was a big buffet, serving various kinds of foods to fill a whole army, as well as drinks, non alcoholic, were being served around. He scanned all around him, looking at the various masks everyone wore.

A wolf.

A fox.

A blank face.

A goat.

A clown.

There were many varieties, many kinds but mostly were in animal masks. Coming to this kind of event was not something he ever thought of doing, at least not by his own accord. But here he was, in a demon mask, a black skull that covered half of his face, with its black horns going up. He stood out, definitely stood out, and he noticed by all the faces turning towards him. 

He was recognizable, his dark hair tied in a bun, his lips under the top sharp teeth of the skull mask, his eyes showing in the holes of the eye sockets, and then, unlike anyone else in the room, he was only wearing a blazer over his torso, leaving his skin exposed. People looked at him as if he were insane for doing this stunt, others thought he was cocky for trying to think he had a chance dressed like that, but others were simply scared of him.

Tonight, his name was Demon.

He glanced around once more to see the many different people he clearly recognized. Sons of rich families, looking for some fun, for some sense of victory that they can just get with daddy’s money. He also recognized the rings of various people that were only hired to enter this competition and win the prize for their boss. And then, there was him. The only Mafia Boss entering the competition, and that’s why everyone was looking at him.

Mafia bosses don’t often do the dirty work unless it’s a very important client, business or victim. In this case, there was a treasure he wanted, something he had been intrigued by ever since it was mentioned to him, and all he had to do was step over everyone else that was standing in this room with him. 

There might be forty people, all waiting for the presentation to finally start. He knew the time to go out was coming close, so they should do it any time soon. A man stood next to him, and he immediately recognized his voice. Carver Jr. Son of the CEO of Kirasoft. Inc. 

“I am telling you, this year she is getting caught, man.” He hears him say to the other guy next to him, who he didn’t recognize, but probably from the same rich kind of family.

“Can’t believe it’s been the same White Rabbit for three years… How did she manage to do it?”

The lights dimmed and he looked up at the ceiling, knowing there was a specific light that was above him, making him visible even in the dim room. He smirked and looked back down towards the stairs that lead down to the ballroom. He sees the man, the man who hosts this event, the man who gets the money of every single person that pays to participate. 

“Welcome to the annual Haunting Ground night.” Claps were heard around Demon, but his hands were kept inside his front pockets as he waited for the man to continue his stupid speech. “Every year we host this marvelous game, in which there is a prize to be won, a marvelous prize.”

The snicker in the man’s face made Demon’s blood boil, as his hands fisted in his pockets. The need to murder him, the need to see his flesh gush out as he talked was increasing, each second it passed. He looked around again, seeing all the women, the men, the people with masks, smiling with confidence towards the stage. 

“Hearing the rules for a third time is quite annoying.” Demon hears a woman talk next to him to another contestant. She had a deer mask on, her whole face covered so he didn’t know who she was, but it didn’t matter, none of the people inside the room mattered, the only one that did was the person in all white that was going to appear at the top of the stairs. 

And no one, absolutely no one, was getting her except him.

“The rules, you all know about them, but I want to remind you about the emergency beeper you all will have in your pocket. If endangered, if in extreme pain, or you just want to tap out of the contest, you press it, and the emergency team will know your location and come get you.” The man says and Demon only rolled his eyes to the sky, knowing he won’t be using it, but actually making other people use it.

The fact that he couldn’t bring any weapons irked him. He always thought things like this would end in blood baths, but they were being pretty humane about this. Yet, he wanted to murder every single person in this room at the moment, because how dare they even try to steal her away from him? Not that he didn’t kill a few past contestants from the past two years. He heard from the men that participated, that some had grabbed the White Rabbit, just by an inch, but a scratch here and there was done to her skin.

Of course he wasn’t going to let them go unharmed for that.

“If you endanger someone to the point of killing them, you will be disqualified and brought to authorities.” Demon scoffed at that. He has the police wrapped around his finger, and there is nothing anyone can do about it, but he will keep his hands to himself, as much as he can, just so he wouldn’t be disqualified from this. 

He could hear the whispers surrounding him, and also knew that they were about him. He was the most dangerous person amongst the people, and if anyone had a gram of brain cells, they would let him get the prize. But of course, he knows many will try to defeat him, try to throw him to the ground, hurt him, because there are also people from families he had destroyed during the years, just like his uncle did in the past. 

Being the nephew of one of the biggest Mafia bosses didn’t mean anything, you weren’t automatically feared or respected just for being a direct link, a family member. You were respected when you were entrusted with the men, the organization and the operations at such a young age, and even more so, when you are not merciful at all, except when needed to. 

Demon never hurt women or children, and the only time he had to kill a woman was because she had backstabbed his uncle, almost to the point of killing him. She was his right hand, but all this time, even if killing for him, she was planning on taking over him, completely over stepping on Demon. He found her taking out her gun when they were in a transaction between crews, and got her in time before she could actually take it out. His uncle fought that she was protecting him, but Demon saw how she was looking at the back of his uncle’s head, right as she got her hand inside her coat. 

She was operating for the other crew they were doing a transaction with.

So of course, Demon immediately took care of it, eliminating her in front of her brother, the other boss that was sitting in front of his uncle, just so that he knows they are not to mess with. And Demon did all that, at the mere age of 17. Now, at 28 years old, he was a man to be feared, respected by many, and to never try to backstab him, in any sort of form or way. 

But three years ago, he got fixated on something, on someone, when he visited the house of the Red Flies, the second most known Mafia family in the eastern states. He knew he was obsessed, he knew that he shouldn’t even try to get her, but he was immediately swept by her presence, by her voice, by her eyes, in a way no one had made him feel before. This only happened when he locked eyes with her, a small smile appearing on her face, and he knew, he immediately knew, that she was meant to be his.

She was going to be his, no matter the cost.

“Everyone, I present to you, the White Rabbit.” 

And there she was, at the top of the staircase, with a spotlight over her head, the white rabbit mask covering half her face, with the ears going up to the ceiling. She was wearing a white short dress that stuck to the body but was loose at the end. Her lips were drawn into a thin line, as everyone was clapping at her, in awe, with desire in their eyes as well as ambition and greediness. 

The reason why everyone wanted the White Rabbit was simple. They were from a high, a very high association, be it a company or a mafia gang, but they wanted out of that. The White Rabbit holds the power of bribery towards bosses, as well as threats and blackmail. More likely daughters and sons that want to destroy their own lineage. 

Many people here knew who the White Rabbit was, but just by name, even if three years had passed. She was never caught, and she never gave herself to anyone because that can also be done. The White Rabbit can willingly choose who to go with if they so desire. And that’s why Demon was with a smile to his face, his jacket still open as he looked at the White Rabbit. She was scanning the room, looking at all the contestants and then, her eyes landed on a torso, her eyes hazing over as she kept staring at his chest.

You see, Demon also possessed that knowledge, and of course, he studied her, knowing more than her name. Over the last three years he had sent his own men to participate in the trial, but with no intention of winning but just to see what the participants did and how she moved in the woods. 

Demon knew her name, how she looked like, the sound of her voice, who her father was, and also, he knows the things she likes, the things she desires, the things that make her tremble, and that’s why he is exposing his torso, and as she kept her eyes on him, a small grin appearing on her face, her tongue licking her bottom lip even slightly as her eyes clouded with pure lust, her mouth watering just at the pure sight of his tattooed chest and even more when he suddenly takes his tongue out, running his tongue piercing all over his top lip.

Stigmatophilia: Sexual Arousal for body modifications, such as piercings or tattoos.

“Always looking like a diamond in the rough.” He heard Carver say, almost a mumble, and Demon’s blood was boiling already. How dare he look at her? How dare he even think he has a chance? How dare he touch or imagine touching something that was his? How fucking dare he even comment on his prize? 

“We all know how this goes. The White Rabbit will have an upper hand of five minutes to infiltrate the woods. Do not, by any means, hurt the White Rabbit. If the White Rabbit is caught, the decision to go with that person for a limited time, or to be completely owned, is up to them.” Demon smirked at those words. There is a contract the White Rabbit has to sign before submitting themselves as the prey. If they decide they want to do a temporary ownership of their body, then the contract is not signed by the captor. But if they do decide for a complete ownership of body and soul, the contract will be signed by both parties, kind of like a marital contract.

This was all in the Mafia organization of course, it’s not legal, but it is something to be respected in between the groups and companies. Demon does not like this idea, because no person should be owned, no person should be held like an animal, no person should be treated like an object. But in the White Rabbit’s eyes, he saw that longing, he saw the need of belonging to someone, of being owned. 

And he was more than happy to oblige.

“Do you think this year is the year? Will she get caught?” He heard the woman next to him, and for the first time in the night, he finally talked, with a gruff voice coming out of his lips.

“She will.”

The people around him all turned with widened eyes, shocked faces behind their masks, as whispers erupted all around them. He was still locking eyes with the White Rabbit, whose smile was still on her lips, almost a snicker, a wicked grin, and he couldn’t wait to start running, he couldn’t wait to start chasing, his body was already trembling at the need of wanting to earn his prize.

“No more food, no more water. The trial starts now… Rabbit… Run.” The host finally said and Demon saw how the light over her head turned off, and in two seconds it lit up again, only for her to be gone. “Get ready and line up to the edge of the woods.”

At his queue everyone started heading out of the ballroom, but Demon just walked, calmly, hands still in his blazer pockets, heading towards the big doors and finally being hit with the wind of the night, the sound of the leaves ruffling all around and the trees merging up in front of him, a sea of trunks and bushes that he will have to run through. 

He stood next to Carver, who was already in a stance of pounce, waiting for the sound of the gun so they could all start running. Demon slowly took off his blazer, throwing it in the ground, revealing his completely tattooed torso, with many ink designs such as dragons, or skulls, or demons, and they go all over his arms and back as well. There are some patches of untouched skin, but overall, he is completely covered in them. 

The many people that stood next to him on each side were looking at him, gulping, except for Carver who simply rolled his eyes at him. Demon looked up at the full moon that was going to help him look through the deep woods, the light that he knew how to follow to keep a steady pace, and the shadows that would help him knock down any person that might come in his way. 

After a minute, he saw the man, the host, walking up on the balcony of the building, his silhouette shining with the moonlight as he raised the flare gun up. Demon took a deep breath in from his nose, getting his hair up in a low ponytail, calmly, as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. His eyes gazed back to the woods, a small grin appearing on his face as he fixed the rings that were on his right hand.

BANG.

His fist immediately collided with Carver’s Jaw, sending him backwards, and the only thing that could be heard was the crack of teeth and a gurgled grunt as he fell to the floor. He quickly turned to grab onto the ponytail of the woman that had screamed at the vicious act, the woman with the deer mask on, pulling her back towards his chest. He wrapped his right hand over the woman’s neck and her hands immediately flew to his forearm, trying to break free.

“Let ME GO!” She yelled with a choke and he scoffed with a roll of his eyes when he raised his left hand up, pressing it at the back of her hand to bend it forward and then with his right arm he started pressing onto the sides of her neck to start cutting her blood flow towards her brain. 

Her body started to go limp and when he felt her arms fall from him, he instantly let go of her, letting her fall to the ground, completely unconscious. He doesn’t hurt women. It will take more time if he does this trick every single time, but even if they try to go after him, he won’t hurt them. Many had already taken off, but some, a very few, stayed to look at what he’s done. 

One by one, they started backing up back into the house as they saw Carver’s mouth going slack as he tried to talk, making Demon turn to throw a wicked grin his way. The blonde man took the beeper out of his pocket and groaned as he pressed the button to finally call assistance. Once Demon heard the beep, he took off running into the woods. 

His blood was pumping with adrenaline, his breathing steady as he rushed by the trees, jumping over boulders, hearing some screams and passing by some men injuring one another. When he arrived at a cleared up area, he stopped running at the sound of some bushes rustling, right next to him, the crack of a twig catching his attention. 

He instantly jumped forward when he saw the bushes finally moving and a man, a bigger man than he is, jumped out of them and onto him, but missed thanks to Demon's premeditated step. The big man steadied himself, wearing a bear mask as he glared at him, a sly smirk on his lips. 

“Well, well, well… Didn’t think the Boss of the Black Dragon would be in a thing like this. Don’t you have many women to choose from?” The Bear chuckled at his words but Demon only grimaced at them. He thinks The White Rabbit can be compared to any woman? To any person? 

“If you want all your limbs in the same place, you would close that mouth of yours.” Demon threatens but Bear only belly laughs at him, shaking his head.

“It’s just you. You know, your uncle really fucked me over with my company.” At those words, Demon could only roll his eyes, not wanting to waste another second in this mindless conversation.

“You probably didn’t pay up in time, or, if I remember correctly, didn’t you kill your wife?” He remembers the deal. This man, and his wife, were going to share half and half of the credit The Black Dragon crew was giving them. The wife asked for a divorce, which would have made the contract void, and the money had to be returned in its entirety to the organization. She had her half untouched, he didn’t. She was going to be free, he wasn’t. 

So in his anger, he killed her, making it seem like suicide to the legal eye, but to the organizations he was seen as a murderer. Now, seeing him in this trial, wanting to get the White Rabbit, Demon felt his blood burning up in anger, because he wasn’t going to let a man like him get her… He wasn’t going to let a man like him get any other woman or person.

“She killed herself. I made that very clear.” The Bear’s face fell, as he clenched his fists next to his hips. Demon knew what was going to happen, so he fixed the bloody rings on his right hand again, his smile spreading knowing it was Carver’s blood. 

“You won’t get her.” Demon says in a dead tone, which the bigger man only chuckled at, unamused, and he took a step forward, and Demon only cracked his neck once. 

“We’ll see about that.” And the first fist was thrown by The Bear, only to be dodged easily by Demon, moving aside. He raised his leg up and immediately hit the bigger man at the right shin with his combat boot. The Bear groaned loudly, turning his whole body to tackle Demon into the ground, his upper body slamming with Demon’s torso, sending him to the floor with the big man on top of him.

He cursed under his breath as the air in his lungs got knocked out slightly thanks to the impact, feeling a sharp sting on his shoulder, making his eyes go wide and groan in pain, looking at the side. The Bear cheated, a small swiss knife now was on Demon’s shoulder, pressed by the man that was on top of him. 

“I see you’re still playing fucking dirty.” Demon almost but snarls at the man on top of him who only laughed out loud and shook his head at the words.

“You don’t get anything in life if you don’t do it my way. My wife knew that, yet, she decided she wanted to fuck me over.” He was laughing, and Demon’s veins were popping out from the anger, from the rage, from the images of this man’s hands over your body, tracing his knife on your skin until he could bury it into the deepest of your gut if you made a wrong move.

His left hand was free to roam, and he grabbed onto a small boulder that was on the floor, immediately clenching his fingers around it to throw his arm up, swinging it towards the man’s head, making him yell in pain as the rock busted his ear and ripped open the skin on his temple. He fell to the side, holding his side of the head in pain while Demon sat up in one quick movement, taking the swiss knife out of his shoulder and throwing it away. Wasting no time, he lunged himself over the other man’s figure.

He was now on top, having won the wrestling match, or the kid fight he just had, and the man below him yelled for mercy, which made Demon only grin wider and wider, knowing that he was a step closer to his prize. In one swift move he pressed his knee against the man’s thigh, while his hand grabbed onto his calf, pulling it upwards, and he just needed one snap, he can at least make it quick for the guy below him.

SNAP. CRACK.

“MY FUCKING LEG!” The Bear yelled below him, only for Demon to scoff at his cries. He stood up and walked off the wailing man who was already taking out his beeper to call for medical care. Demon grabbed onto the beeper, a glare in his eyes as he looked at the man below him.

“After this, you better hide… Because I will kill you.” He threw the beeper far away from The Bear. He would have to crawl with his broken leg to get it, making that task torturous to say the least. 

“P-Please, spare me– This is just a game–” Demon pressed his foot onto the man’s broken leg, and another yell of pain could be heard through the open field. 

“No. You should have noticed that this is not a game to me, and you should have known that messing with me today would be a very bad choice.” He let go of the man, stepping away. The Bear’s face was stained from the tears of pain he was induced to, but Demon could care less. 

The black haired man immediately took off again, running through the bushes as he heard a few screams and yells of victory. His mentality started spiraling as he felt himself growing impatient by how long this was going to take. If he had to take out every single contestant he was going to end up doing a massacre and that was against the rules.

Because he would kill for The White Rabbit.

He was hearing many beeping sounds around him, some grunts and people that were writhing on the ground in pain as he walked by. So many were with broken bones, some had scratches all over their bodies and that’s when he remembered the wound on his shoulder. He looked at it as he walked, moving his shoulder in circles to see if it caused any damage. He scoffed and chuckled as he noticed he could still move his arm freely even if the wound was open. 

The bastard couldn’t even aim a knife right. He didn’t really deserve to live, not if he is going to threaten death right in the face and expect to come out alive from it. That’s what Demon was. Death. Crossing him meant bargaining with life, and backstabbing him with treason meant instant death. He didn’t do most of the dirty work, only when it’s necessary and when he would get pleasure from it, and that man he just fought, he wasn’t going to be killed by a stranger in his organization. Demon was going to cut his head off himself.

He stopped walking when he heard a rustle, but it wasn’t on any of his sides. He turned his body, scanning all over when he heard it again. He smirked as he put his hands in the front of his pockets, his heart beating into his chest from the adrenaline and from the excitement of getting closer and closer to his objective.

“You should come down from the trees.”

A small giggle could be heard from his back as he slowly turned to finally see the person he wanted most climbing down from a tree. Her white dress flowed with some white shorts underneath, but the white was now smudged with some dirt, and some blood as well. Her white ears moved as she tilted her head at him, scanning him all over, her body rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Your ears are very perceptive.” 

 “You’re just too loud.” He says in a low voice, watching the White Rabbit start moving, circling him, with her hands behind her back, swaying her head from side to side as if humming a song. His head followed her, seeing her bare feet covered in mud as the leaves crunched under them. 

“Hmm… Someone got you.” She says, pointing at the wound on his shoulder, in which he simply shrugs as if to show her that he wasn’t fazed by it.

“By playing dirty.” She hummed again as she looked down at the floor, still circling all around him as if inspecting him, scanning him, and her mouth watered at every single patch of skin she saw inked. She was already imagining what his legs looked like, and she was already trembling with the idea of using her nails to give him new scars.

“Are you here to get me?” She asks him, finally stopping right in front of him, just a few feet away, her hands still behind her back with a grin on her face. He took his hands out of his front pockets, letting them hang on his sides.

“To claim you.” She tilted her head at his voice, her smile widening, creepily so, as her eyes glistened with sudden excitement and adrenaline and Demon knew what was coming, because he had studied the White Rabbit after all.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” And she turned on her heel, and sprinted off into the darkness of the woods, and Demon’s teeth showed as his wicked grin grew, and grew.

Autassassinophilia: Sexual arousal when being in a dangerous situation, such as being chased, or wanted for murder.

His feet started working, running forward to where The White Rabbit went, listening to far cries that were deep into the woods, and he wondered just how many other people were left, not that it mattered, because he already won. He knew he already won when he decided to sign up for this trial. He knew he had won the moment he stepped into the ballroom. He knew he had won when she had smiled at him, right at the top of the marbled stairs.

He stopped running when he came into an empty spot, surrounded by trees, looking all around him. His eyes twitched as he tried to listen to the sounds, knowing now that it was just him and her. He was preying on her as much as she was preying on him. He knew she was circling him, his little rabbit, trying to be sneaky, but a twig was heard from his left side and his feet immediately moved to that sound.

Long strides were taken thanks to his long legs, his belt clinking as he ran, going past the trees once again. He ran in between trunks, jumping over the fallen logs, but his eyes sparkled when he heard a giggle from behind him, making him stop in his tracks, turning around rapidly to see her retreating figure, running away from him. A smirk appeared on his lips. She had run past him and he didn’t notice.

He started running after her, deciding to swerve left, going deep into the woods again, no longer following behind her. She kept running, her breathing completely accelerated, her belly turning with anticipation, with adrenaline, with arousal, with desire. Oh, she wanted him. She had waited, and waited. But his footsteps were no longer heard behind her, making the White Rabbit stop, turning around to try to listen to her surroundings.

He wasn’t following her, did she run too fast? Did he lose sight of her? But she was sure she was hearing him behind her, not even five seconds ago. She took one step, then another, passing by a tree but she stopped her movements again, her eyes widening, goosebumps emerging on her skin as she slowly turned her head to see the figure that was just behind the tree, waiting for her.

“Caught you.” 

Demon immediately pounced on her, grabbing onto her shoulders and tackling her to the ground, a crazed smile on his face as she struggled to get free, but it was already done. He was on top of her, his calves over her thighs to pin her down while his hands were on her biceps now, digging deeply, pushing her onto the ground. She was panting heavily as she opened her eyes to finally see the man that was on top of her.

“Dirty.” She spats and he scoffs, licking inside his bottom lip as she relaxes under his hold. A small smile appeared on her lips, the moonlight shining through the woods, just enough for him to see her. He took one hand away from her bicep, getting hold of the bottom of her mask, pulling it up to finally reveal that beautiful face he got mesmerized with three years ago, at a simple meeting. That face that told him, we’re equal. That face that told him, I will serve you if given the chance. That face that he wanted to see, everyday, at every hour, for as long as he lives. That face that claimed him that same night, with a smile, with the stares, with the intense stare in the eyes.

You.

“Hello, Bunny.” That was your nickname in your father’s organization. Bunny. Too pure, too innocent, too charming, yet, you were the complete opposite. You were nasty, you were evil, you were vengeful, you were a freak. A complete and utter freak. And he was the same, he was your exact same, and you were expectant of him. You were waiting for him to appear. You were in this trial behind your father’s back for three years, because you wanted him. You wanted the man that had whispered in your ear ‘You’ll be mine.’ three years ago. You wanted the man that’s been said to have killed and destroyed many organizations and the members inside of them. You wanted the man that you knew could own you, yet, wouldn’t cage you.

Your fingertips from your free hand raised up, finally touching the teeth of the black demon mask he was wearing, first grazing it, gently, as if taking in this moment with him, this moment where everything will change, this moment where your life will finally become yours, and his. You gripped onto the mask and finally lifted it up, and he helped by bending down slightly so you could rip it off his face, throwing the plastic far away from you both.

“Munson.” A smile appeared on your face as you saw him, your cheeks flushing at his sight, as if you were a bitch in heat in front of her master, and you weren’t far from it. You knew Eddie owned you that same night you met him, and he also knew you were meant to be his. 

“What are those?” He asked, placing a hand on your waist where a stain was on your dress, a shiver running down your spine as a soft moan escaped your throat, knowing his hand was covered in ink and touching you.

“I might have snapped a few tendons here and there… Putting the competition away for you…” Your eyes were already looking up at him with desire, with the need of being alone with him, of him claiming you, completely. He smirked down towards you, leaning down to talk closely onto your face.

“What’s your choice, Bunny?” He softly asks, his eyes hinting of desperation, but also insecurity of some sort, but he didn’t have to worry. He shouldn’t, because you are his, you’ve always been his.

“I’ll stay with you, forever, if you’ll have me.” His eyes widened slightly with emotion, his gut turning at your words and his hand flew to grab onto your jaw, harshly, to pull you towards his lips, into a messy yet wanton kiss. A kiss that he had been craving for far too long. You moaned onto his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he finally let your thighs go, his calves resting on the floor now. 

His teeth caught onto your bottom lip, and you could already feel the iron taste filling your mouth, knowing he was piercing your skin, but that only made your thighs clench with eachother even more, wetness pooled inside your shorts as his actions showed you that he studied you, that he knew you, and he knew what you were into. He pulled away from you, licking his lips from your blood as he looked down, seeing your bottom lip with your red tint, blood coming out from the inside of it. 

“You’re mine. I’m going to protect you Bunny, I’m not letting anyone take you away from me, and if they dare come close… I’ll kill them, you say the word… And I’ll kill everyone you tell me to.” A soft smile spread on your face as you looked at him, crazed and wild eyes staring at each other as your grip on his shoulders tightened, and a firework was shot into the sky, but you two didn’t move. Just stared into each other's eyes. 

You’re free.

Your hands gripped on your last bag with the remaining clothes you had. A smile on your face the whole time the elevator dinged closer and closer to Eddie’s penthouse, one of the many properties he possesses. You hadn’t changed, still wearing the white stained dress over your body, but the people that organized this trial had already sent your prepared luggage to Eddie’s, meaning that the only thing left to deliver was you.

The ding didn’t even startle you as the doors opened, and a big double door greeted you a few steps away from the metal confinement. You stepped towards it, and grabbed onto the handle, finding the door open. A smile appeared on your face as you opened it, walking in to take in the immense decorated space in modern yet vintage looking furniture. You put your bag down, closing the door behind you as you stepped inside the apartment, seeing that it had stairs going up to a second floor. 

You were looking around, knowing that he should be here somewhere. After he had caught you, you were brought into the office to sign off the permanent contract to him, with a smile to your face all the while. The host was simply looking at you as if you were insane, because being owned by the Black Dragon association was not something many desired, much less, being owned by the boss of it.

Eddie was sent home so you could gather your bags, and those bags you saw at the very corner of the living room. You heard something in the kitchen, making you tilt your head slightly at the sound, like a rattle, so you followed it, walking into the dimmed light kitchen, modern, with the cupboards and utilities in black, against the white marble counters, but your eyes centered on the person that was pouring two glasses of wine, in the middle of the room.

“Hello again darling.” He put the wine bottle on the counter and his eyes finally looked up to lock with yours. He was still shirtless, still with the same bloody clothes, the wound in his shoulder already stitched and bandaged, and your mouth salivated with the need of pressing your tongue onto his skin. His hair was down, eyes a deep brown that only made you move by instinct, slowly approaching him with your hands behind your back.

Like a small bunny.

“This house is a little big for you.” You say as you stand next to him, grabbing onto the wine glass and taking a small sip from it, the burning of the alcohol soothing your throat and calming your nerves. Nerves that were there because you waited so long to be with him, alone, like this. Completely owned by him, his property, his partner. 

“Glad that you are filling it with me now.” He says in a low tone, which sends shivers down your spine, because for some reason you knew that the night was going to be long, and that by the end of it, you won’t be able to walk. Hopefully.

“So, you’ve been studying me over the last three years, huh.” You say with a smile, not looking at him, still with the glass of wine on your lips, and the alcohol was slightly stinging the wound he provoked on you in the woods. 

“And you’ve been waiting for me for three years.” He retorted, his eyes slowly turning black from how his pupils began to dilate the more his eyes roamed your body. He took a large chug from his wine glass, putting the crystal on the counter again while you giggled at his words, making all of his blood go south immediately. 

“Took you long enough.” You replied to him and his hand twitched on the counter as he stared down at you. Your giggle stopped but that wicked smile was still on your lips, setting your glass down as you finally turned your head to look at him. “I’ve been studying you too.”

“And how so?” He asks, the need to grab you, the need to get hold of you, pin you down, making you shut up, beginning to gnaw in the deep of his gut. You shrug at him, not even sparing him another word and his eyes twitched, his fire igniting as his right hand rises up, tracing your cheek softly in which you melted at, pressing your face against it. 

Your eyes suddenly widened when his hand enveloped your throat, in one swift movement, and pressure was applied, cutting your blood flow and oxygen at the same time. A choked moan escaped your lips as he looked down at you, a smile appearing in his lips, knowing very well that you were drenched by now, clenching onto nothing as he applied more pressure on you.

Asphyxiophilia: Sexual Arousal when being choked, often cutting the oxygen circulation.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight Bunny.” His left hand, which was still on the counter, found the knife he had already prepared for this moment, the knife that would start it all. “I own you. I make the rules and you just follow them. There’s nothing else you have to do.” 

You nodded, choking on your voice as your eyes started rolling to the back of your head, your hands gripping his wrist and he finally let go of some of the pressure to let oxygen flow in your body again. You choked a sigh of relief, your breathing already jagged by how much air entered all at once in your lungs again, yet his hand was still on your throat, his tattooed hand. 

His left hand raised up, pressing the tip of his blade onto your cheek, the smile still on his face as he looked at you. You smiled through your dizziness at him, and oh you were so beautiful. He guided his knife down, slowly, gliding it over your body, until he reached the hem of your dress. Your eyes widened as you felt the sharp tip of the knife over your shorts, your clit twitching at the sharpness of it. That sent an adrenaline shock through your body that almost made you squirm, but you knew that if you moved he might hurt you there.

He appreciated you staying still, and you were just too perfect for him. He twisted the knife so the blade would be facing upwards, and he slowly punctured the tip of the knife inside your shorts, but not through your soaked underwear. He smirked at you one last time and that’s when you heard the intense ripping sound, a gasp escaping your lips, the blade stretching the dress off your body as it ripped it in half, going all the way to your collarbone. 

His eyes scanned your frame, a white bra on your body as well as the matching thong that he could see from the slit of your shorts. The both of you had dirt all over yourselves, but that only enticed him to take you even more. To finally own you completely. He motioned towards your hands with the knife, which were still wrapped around his wrist. You gave a sigh as you dropped your hands to your sides, making the dress finally fall off from your shoulders, as if it were a coat. 

He slowly let go of your neck, letting the knife rest on top of the counter again, your breathing heavy and with the imprints of his fingers already on your neck, and tears were threatening to fall down from your eyes as you looked at him, but they weren’t enough. They weren’t enough for him, and he wanted more, he wanted to see you completely ruined by him. 

“On your knees.” You shivered at his command, wanting to be a brat, deny him, but this is what you’ve always wanted, to belong to him. For him to use you as he pleases, for him to drag you around like a plaything, but yet, to protect you like a partner, like an equal. You slowly got down on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes and he pressed his fingers under your chin to keep you up. “Will you do everything as I say?”

“Yes, yes, I will.” You were desperate now, not being able to handle anymore teasing from him. 

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.” He commanded this time, and you did as told, opening your pretty mouth from him, your pink tongue sticking out and he grinned at the view. He gathered his saliva inside his mouth, to then lean in and drop his spit into your mouth and tongue. He immediately closed your mouth with force. “Swallow.”

You didn’t. You closed your eyes at the taste of him in your tongue, just for a second and his eyes widened, lust covering his features as he saw you moaning with his spit in your mouth. You then swallowed, and opened your eyes again, sticking your tongue out for him, as if asking for more. He straightened up, his belt coming undone, the leather slipping off from his pants. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it later on.

“What do you want me to do now?” You ask him and he simply smirks down at you, wicked eyes crossing his features as he unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down.

“You just stay there, look pretty, while I fuck that bratty mouth of yours.” A gasp was heard from you but it was an excited one, your eyes immediately darting towards the bulge that was inside his pants as he finally pulled them down, along with his boxers. His cock springing up to hit against his pelvis, right in between the V shape that you want to trace your tongue on. “Spit.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you lunged forward as he grabbed onto his shaft, pulling it down for you to spit on it, and his hand started going up and down on himself, slowly, and your lips turned into a pout as you stared. It wasn’t fair, you wanted to do that. You raised your hand up only to be stopped by a sting, a sharp sting and a smack. His other hand was still holding the folded belt, and he used it to hit your hand away, making your eyes sting with tears as you put your hand back down, rubbing it softly with your other one, looking up at him with a frown in your face.

“Wh–”

“Don’t fucking touch me. I said, STAY THERE.” He almost growls at you, sending another shiver down your spine, but you straightened up, looking up at him, waiting for his instructions as he still stroked himself with your spit, making you gulp with need, seeing how large he was, your body moving forward, wanting to give it at least a small kiss to the head, only for another sharp sting hitting you, this time, it was a slap by his big hand, not that hard, but not gentle either, making you turn your head away with a whimper.

He waited for you to turn back at him, to see your reaction, to see what you are thinking because even if he studied you, he still has some self control and empathy in himself, and much more when it comes to you. He doesn’t want to hurt you in ways that you do not enjoy, but as you slowly turn to look back at him, your cheek stinging, with a smile to your face and hazy looking eyes as if in a trance, he couldn’t help but smile down at you.

“Can I beg?” You ask, and it was an honest question, a question of boundaries, a question to get to know him even more, to know what you can and can’t do, and he was appreciative of that.

“Yes. Beg for my cock, I want to hear how much you want it Bunny, how much you’ve been wanting it for these past three years.” And your breathing hitched at that, an excited smile appearing in your lips as you looked up at him, your brain completely drained from conscious thought as your desire poured out of your lips.

“Please Eddie, I want your big cock in my mouth, please… I want to taste you, have your cum dripping in my throat, been wanting it for so long, please– Don’t keep me waiting baby, please…” Your sultry voice filled his ears, a shiver running down his spine as his dick twitched in his pants, asking for attention, but there was a reason for you wanting to beg, because you studied him too… You know what he likes.

Narratophilia:  Sexual arousal to obscene words.

“Then open your fucking mouth, and you’ll take what I give you.” You didn’t waste a second, your nails digging in your knees as you opened your mouth again, sticking your tongue out for him. With one hand he guided his cock, and with the other he pressed it at the back of your head, pulling you forward towards it. 

He first taunts you, pulling your head back for you to kitten lick the tip, to then pull you forward again to take it into your mouth only to repeat the motion again. A soft whimper vibrated in your throat, which made Eddie’s hold grow tighter on your scalp, and he finally thrust himself inside of your mouth, halfway in and started going in a slow pace first so your mouth would get coated in your saliva. He knew he would hurt you if he made you deepthroat at once, and he didn’t want to destroy your vocal chords, at least not yet.

You closed your eyes as you hollow your cheeks to finally start sucking on him, letting him bob your head back and forth at his own pace, but you relished in the taste of him, a moan escaping your throat in delight as your spit helped your movements be smoother each thrust he did into you. He was holding back his groans at your sight, finally having you at his mercy, on your knees. His self control slowly slipping away as he tilts his head back, closing his eyes at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, loving the way he could feel you moaning against him.

Your pussy clenched at nothing, and you wanted to touch yourself, relieve some of the tension building inside of you, but you knew better than that, so you kept your hands at your knees, fingernails scratching your skin. His hand finally let go of his cock, guiding it towards the back of your head, finally joining his other one, gripping onto your hair. He stopped you from bobbing your head, only for him to start thrusting himself inside of your mouth, inside and out, still in a slow pace.

Your eyes opened to look up at him and his eyes beamed at how you were looking at him. Pleading for more. So that, he did. He thrusted deeper this time, a gulp being heard from you, a gargle, but not a gag, not quite yet. His pace quickened, a groan finally coming to his throat as your eyes started tearing up the deeper he went in. This is what you wanted, to be used by him, and your wetness sipping through your underwear and shorts even was an indication of that.

“What a fucking slut, not even gagging.” He chuckled only to stop when even if you had a mouth full of him, he could still see the cocky turn up of the corner of your lips while staring up at him. His nose flared and he suddenly slammed himself inside your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. A tear slid down your cheek and you finally gagged at him, but because it was a surprise to you more than anything. He pulled back only to slam himself back in, your gags and gurgles filling the room as your mascara started running down your face.

He pulled back just for a second for you to take a deep breath through your nose, and he trembled slightly with a moan caught in his throat as he saw your face. His hands gripping your hair even tighter, not being able to contain himself as he started thrusting himself into your mouth, quick, but not deep like before, yet your spit mixed with his precum started slipping from the sides of your mouth. 

He couldn’t help but wanting you to keep crying, to keep tearing up, so he slammed himself again against your mouth, hitting your throat again, and you breathed through your nose in order not to gag, but your eyes widened when you realized that he was staying there. You whimpered against him, as more tears slipped through your eyes as you tried to keep your breathing under control, but he was groaning in pleasure at the sight. 

You started gagging, your body lurching forward a couple of times and that was Eddie’s queue to finally pull away from you, taking his cock out of your mouth.

“Ung–” You were panting, trying to move your throat a bit to numb the sudden beating it received, but Eddie simply pulled you up from your hair, making you gasp as you stood on your two feet again, your knees screaming in pain from being against the hard floor for too long. His face was inches from yours and your eyes saw what he was looking at. You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your face as you felt his dick twitch against your hip as he inspected your cheeks, your tears.

Dacryphilia: Sexual arousal to seeing the partner crying or shedding tears.

His lips immediately connected to yours, a rough, deep kiss, full of lust and desperation. Your mouth opened for him, once again, and his tongue invaded it in a second. You clenched again when you felt his tongue piercing all around your cavity, on your tongue, clinking against your teeth. He moaned into your mouth when he felt the mix of his taste, your spit, as well as the saltiness of your tears. 

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers and pants up but not buttoning himself up as you stared at him, completely dazed for his next move. He couldn’t help himself and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, in which you sighed dreamily at, knowing you were being a good girl. His good girl.

“Let's go upstairs. I have to ruin you.” You trembled at his words, excited for that to happen, excited to be ruined by him, excited to be yourself with him. He turned you around, and he grabbed his belt from the counter with one hand, the other being pressed against the small of your back, guiding you towards the stairs. You went up, your pussy clenching at each step taken as the adrenaline pumped in your veins. He was right behind you, now finally walking you towards his room.

He opened the door for you, and you walked in to take it all in. Realization hit you. This wasn’t just any of Eddie’s properties, this was his house, the one he considered home, the one that was all him and not something designed by someone else. His guitars were on display on one wall, a few paintings and limited vinyl editions of what you believed were his favorite bands, the big king sized bed in the middle of the room with dark comforters, and the big window on its side, a few feet away with long black draped curtains. 

You were now part of his home.

A sudden feeling filled you as you turned around with excitement to wrap your arms around his shoulders, the action completely startling him as he looked down at you. Your lips immediately found his, as you took in the feeling that he owned you, but in the most caring way possible, and like you stated before, you knew he wasn’t going to cage you up, not that you minded if it was done by him.

His lips moved with yours as he slowly guided you towards the bed, his hands going to your back to finally unclasp your bra. The back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you pulled away from him, taking your bra off completely. He looked down at your bare breasts, wanting to dive into them, take them into his mouth, but he made a promise to you first. He raised a hand, slapping one of your tits with it, making you gasp with a moan.

“Get on the fucking bed, and raise your hands over your head.” You smiled at him as you sat down on the bed, pushing yourself backwards into the middle of it as he kept his eyes on you, slowly walking towards the side of the bed as you laid down, throwing your arms up, almost touching his black headboard. From the corner of it, he opened a small wooden door, at the very top, and he started pulling a black rope from it, your eyes widening at it, while a small smirk spread on your cheeks.

“The headboard seems new.” You managed to say in a hoarse voice, and he chuckled at that, grabbing onto your right wrist, pulling you towards the bracelet of the rope, wrapping it tightly around your skin. 

“Custom made. Received it a couple of days ago.” For some reason, he didn’t want to lie to you about that, nor tease you, because he wanted you to know that he prepared himself for you and just you. This bed was made for you, and that made you moan with need, your thighs rubbing together at his confession. He circled the bed, going to the other top corner of his headboard to pull the same rope out, grabbing your left wrist and pulling you towards him again, and you felt the tug onto your right hand, not letting it move further. 

“How thoughtful of you Eds.” You smiled at him when you noticed he wasn’t tightening the bracelets too hard on your skin. You have noticed that he was thoughtful of you, careful to some degree with you, yet, rough. His hand went down again, slapping at your left breast now, your back slightly arching at the feeling, with a moan trapped in your throat.

“Are you going to stop talking?” You giggled and licked your lips, wanting once again to go against him, but you knew better. You liked being dominated, you really did, and you knew that your other side was something you couldn’t do with Eddie. He sighed at your giggling, heading towards his dresser where he left his belt at the top of it. You bit your lip as your eyes glistened with anticipation.

“You’re gonna punish me? Don’t you want to fuck me? Take me? Breed me? Why are you taking so long Eddie?” You lifted your legs up, bending at your knees, spreading them open for him and he almost dropped the belt to the ground at your words, groaning as you used his kink against him. He put his knee on the edge of the bed and you smiled at him, a wicked smile.

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” 

SMACK.

You gasped loudly as your body jolted upwards from the mixed sensations that just went through your whole body, like an electric shock. He swung his belt towards your clothed cunt, smacking it, sending a sharp yet burning pain through your whole body, and your clit throbbed with the need of more friction, even if painful, it still felt so good after being neglected for a long while.

Eddie was smirking as he looked at you, squirming under him, his cock wanting to explode out of the confines of his boxers again, the zipper that was already down from his pants digging into the bulge as it twitched on him. He raised his belt again, smacking you on your left inner thigh, making you jolt again and your legs spread even more. You were perfect for him, simply perfect, moaning thanks to what he was doing, tears starting to form in your eyes again… You were his.

Sexual sadism: Sexual arousal on causing pain, non life-threatening.

“Eddie– Eddie please–” You were begging again, but that earned you another bruising smack to your other inner thigh, your back arching at the pain, yet pleasure that shot through your body as the ropes on the headboard clinked at the movement of your arms.

“Are you that desperate for my cock?” He says as he looks down at you, and you nodded desperately, a tear sliding down from the corner of your eye, and honestly, Eddie was too. He waited too long for this, and even though he wanted to do so many more things to you, he knew he had time, that you both had time.

“Yes, please, fill me up– I need your cock inside of me, waited too long for you baby, don’t tease me anymore, don’t tease us any longer…” You begged but this time it was a genuine one, a very truthful one that Eddie couldn’t deny. He put the belt to the side, almost throwing it, and he grabbed the hem of your ripped shorts and underwear, ripping it off from you in one move, helping him with the movement of your legs. 

He looked down at your wet pussy, and you already made a complete mess of yourself. The shorts were drenched as well as your tongue, and he couldn’t help but think again that he was blessed with you by some god. You were his equal, completely unhinged, crazy, and you two were desperate for one another. 

His cock would have to wait, because he couldn’t help himself as he saw you like this, at his mercy, legs spread and inner thighs red from his ministrations. He held you at the back of your knees, your eyes widening when he bent them forward, towards your chest, and your hips raised up, your cunt facing the ceiling. He smirked at it, leaning down to take a long swipe against your wet folds, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You wanted to arch your back, but you couldn’t as his grip was tight on the back of your thighs, making your back arch downwards. A moan escaped your lips as he kept swiping his tongue on you, licking on your wetness, tasting you, and groaning at how sweet you were, relishing in the fact that he could have you like this any time he wants from now on. Your hands made the ropes clink again, as you tried to guide them to his head, to hold onto him, and you whined at the restraints.

“Eddie– Eds–” You moaned his name and his hand raised up to smack your lifted ass as it left your thigh to do so. You gasped at the feeling, keeping your knees to your chest in order not to go against him. He flicked his tongue on your clit, and your moans finally started coming out of your mouth, one after the other. He was almost eating you up, like a starved man. 

And he couldn’t get enough. He could do this all day, he could stay buried in your pussy if he could because you just tasted so good, so much better than what he anticipated, than what he had imagined. All these years of waiting paid off, because it tasted as if you were waiting for him, it tasted like you were made for him, to his taste, that someone made his favorite flavor, and it had always been you.

His tongue finally dipped inside you, and he moaned against your cunt as he felt your walls clenching around him, the ropes clinking as you thrashed your arms from the sensation, his nose bumping on your clit as he moved his head up and down, his tongue flicking inside of you, and he really was devouring you. 

Thanks to all the edging, the teasing, and how you had been wet from the very moment you saw him in the ballroom, the coil in your belly started to form rapidly. Your moans escalated in sound, and your eyes closed at how good his tongue was flicking at your walls, trying to reach that place that would make you see stars. He took his mouth off you with a gasp, getting air back in his lungs and you almost cried at the loss, only to feel one strong and large finger enter you, and curling in a come hither motion. 

“Oh, FUCK!” Your head went back into the pillows as a moan escaped from your lips, loud, the spongy part of yourself being rubbed onto over and over again. He smirked at the sight, his panting from desire being heard along your moans.

“Are you enjoying yourself little Bunny?” He asks and you nod your head desperately, tears prickling in your eyes as you feel the burning at your hip from the position and your wrists tugged onto the ropes again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please– Please keep going!” And he was going to. He wasn’t going to edge you, not this time, because you’ve been such a good girl, even if a little bratty, you were a good girl for him. He pushed another finger inside of you, your eyes widening as both of them started rubbing you, repeatedly, your belly screaming for release. Your chest was heaving up and down as your panting increased and his movements became fast, the squelching of your cunt being heard across the room.

“Come on, cum for me. Fucking look at me while you cum.” And that you did, staring up at him with your mouth open, moans coming out as your belly finally exploded, your vision going white as you tried to keep your eyes open for him, but you knew the tears were blocking your vision. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers and you heard him curse at the feeling as he tried to keep the fast pace on you. Your legs trembled around him as his name spilled out of your lips.

“Eddie! Oh my god, SHIT!” You kept riding your orgasm against his fingers, your walls clenching and unclenching until it finally stopped, your body jolting once, then twice as Eddie slowed down his fingers on you, and once he saw you relaxing onto the bed again he pulled them out of you.

He was breathing heavily, looking down at you as he made your lower body hit the bed again, a sigh of relief mixing with your panting as you finally felt some of the burning on your hip go away. He looked at his fingers, licking your juices off of them, and through your half lidded eyes you could see him, making your pussy clench again. You wanted to laugh at how needy you were, how desperately you wanted him. 

He wasn’t going to last long, not with you having sucked his dick, and he almost busted through his boxers while eating you out. He got off the bed, not even bothering to wipe his mouth from your slick and his spit, wanting to keep your taste on his mouth for a little longer. He walked over to one side to let your left wrist go, and he rubbed the red mark that appeared on your skin. You smiled up at him and nodded, as if telling him it was okay. He then walked to the other side to let go of your other hand, followed by him ripping himself off his pants and underwear. 

You wanted to have him in your mouth again, seeing his pink tip leaking precum was enough to make you want to open your mouth and stick out your tongue, buit he had other plans for you. He got on the bed again, but before getting in between your legs, he got his hands underneath your ass and waist, turning you over and onto your stomach, a gasp coming out of your lips. 

He positioned himself behind you, lifting your hips with his fingertips digging on the flesh of your skin, marking you up. When you left your upper body on the mattress, he groaned and grabbed onto his belt again that was on the edge of the bed, almost falling over, and made a snapping sound with it before landing it against your right cheek, making you jolt up and almost squirm away from the sting. 

“In all fours, or I’ll strap you to this fucking bed without touching you again.” That made your trembling hands press against the mattress to prop yourself up instantly. You stuck your ass at him, wiggling your hips slightly, earning yourself another smack from his belt on your other cheek, a squeal escaping your lips now. Another smack on the same place, and now a moan was heard in the room as the burning increased in that area. 

“Eddie…” You whimpered and he put the belt down, grabbing your ass with one hand, and his cock with the other to finally guide it to your waiting entrance. You moaned with need when he pressed the tip against your clit and you knew what you had to do now. “Please, I need your cock, don’t tease me anymore–”

He plunged himself inside of you, a choked gasp trapping itself in your throat at the sudden massive stretch with no mercy, your eyes widening at the feeling as they immediately prickled with tears from the sting. He was halfway in, and started invading your hole, a little slow, but not quite. He groaned with a smile to his face as he felt your tight walls engulfing him.

“Yeah, this pussy was made for me… So perfect.” You whined at that, almost a whimper as he finally bottomed out and you felt him almost at your throat. He was too deep inside of you, the stretch almost painful, but it couldn’t compare to how much pleasure it gave you. You needed him to move despite the burning sensation, because your belly was screaming for him, your mind and sould needed him.

“Eds, move, please move–” You didn’t have to beg anymore. He pulled back and slammed himself back in, making the fat of your ass jiggle at his movement, and a loud moan was out of your mouth in a second. He repeated the motion until he started going at a brutal pace, and the slamming of the headboard filled the room in between your breaths and the moans. Your arms were trembling as your body went back and forth against him, his hands now at your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

You could hear the squelching of your pussy as he moved, wet from your climax and getting even wetter at finally having him, at finally feeling him inside of you, and the realization that you get to have him from this day on whenever you want. He was moaning, without shame at all because you were too warm, too beautiful, too pretty right now. His hands went towards your asscheeks, spreading them open to see your small hole, and a grin formed in his face between his jagged breaths.

“Next time– I’ll prep you, and I’ll fuck this little hole of yours. Would you like that, my sweet Bunny?” My. My. My. You were cock drunk now, not being able to think about anything else but him, and the way he was claiming you over and over again at every slam of skin against each other. 

“Yes! Yes! I’ll take anything from you–Fuck!” He wanted to laugh at that, as he smacked your ass with his hand, against the already bruising mark that was there. You groaned at that and he pressed his hips against you, harshly and deep and you choked on your own sounds at that. You were certain that if you pressed your hand against your belly, you would be able to feel the tip of his cock inside of you.

He reached out to grab hold of the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair to finally clench at your scalp, making you yelp. He pulled you upwards, your back hitting his chest as you ached it for him to keep thrusting in and out of you but he stood still. His mouth was on your ear as he breathed against it, whispering softly.

“You are so fucking perfect for me.” You smiled at that, your bodies sticking against each other's sweat. You licked your lips as you turned your head to look at him.

“I studied you too, you know…” You confessed to him, and he raised an eyebrow at you. You grabbed onto his hand that was in your waist, pulling it up towards your mouth. You put his index and ring fingers inside, sucking on them and you felt his hips start to move inside of you, at the same rhythm of your lips. You pulled them out to graze your tongue towards the belly of his palm where you suddenly bit at the flesh, harshly, marking him. His dick twitched inside of you as he moaned against your ear a smile appearing on your lips as they still latched on his skin, blood filling your mouth.

Odaxelagnia: Sexual arousal to biting or being bitten.

“You fucking slut.” He ripped his hand away from you, and despite the pain, he gripped onto your hips again, setting a brutal pace against you, your back arching against him, ass sticking out as your head rested against his shoulder. His mouth immediately found your shoulder, biting onto your skin until his teeth went through, your eyes widening at the burning and pain, but it sent an electric shock towards your belly which began its tightening again. 

“Only for you– God, just for you–!” He licked the blood that oozed out of the inflicted wound, and his other hand went towards your clit as his hips slammed against your ass, his dick hitting that perfect spongy part of yourself that made you moan almost in screams as he hit it repeatedly and without missing. His fingers started circling against your nub and your pussy clenched around him, earning a moan from his part.

“You have to come with me, I’m going to fill you up so fucking good.” He says into your ear and it comes unexpectedly, your eyes widening as his words triggered your orgasm way harsher than before, his fingers flicking on your clit rapidly as your juices gushed around him, making a mess out of your legs and his, and the comforter below you two. He cursed under his breath as his movements started faltering, stuttering.

“Eddie– Fuck, please, PLEASE–” You were still riding your orgasm out when you felt that warmth finally fill your belly, coating all of your walls as he spent his seed inside of you. He moaned loudly against your shoulder, as he kept pumping himself inside of you, your pussy clenching him to milk every single drop until you finally came down from your high and his hips stopped moving completely.

You were both breathing heavily as you tried to get some oxygen in your lungs. The room smelled like sex, your sweat, your juices, his cologne, and it was such an amazing smell to you. He groaned when he finally pulled out of you and his hand raised up to grab onto your chin, turning your head to look at him. His lips found yours again, this time, a tender kiss, a kiss of belonging, a kiss that sealed this bond between you both.

Your new home.

“You really are on the pill then.” Eddie says as he lays in his bed, a new comforter over his legs as his back is pressed against his headboard. You were naked with a towel on your hand as you dried your hair with it, walking towards him after a nice shower you both took together.

“Of course.” He groaned at that with his arms crossed over his chest, looking away. He knew it was too soon to have a kid with you, but he really wanted to claim you in every way possible, and having a family with you, was another way of doing so. You smiled at him, throwing the towel to the floor, as you got inside the bed with him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Why did you decide to enter the trial?” He asks you and you hum at that question.

“My father has been trying to marry me off for the past three years… Sadly, all of my bachelors went missing, or were killed in action.” You say with a smirk to your face, and Eddie’s grin widened at that. He can still remember the screams of the men that tried to marry you, claiming you like he did. 

“I wonder what happened.” He says as if he were playing dumb. You giggled at that and nodded.

“Hmm… You didn’t know about my last bachelor, did you?” He blinked at that, and looked at you as you stared forward, a glint in your eyes that were filled with mischief, but also lust. “Right before entering the trial, my father told me I was to be set up with a new bachelor, and to be honest, he is a pretty, a very pretty boy.” You licked your lips at those words, Eddie’s attention already drawn to you as you spoke.

“Who was it sweetheart?” You turned to look at him, a wicked smile on your face.

“Harrington Jr.” Eddie’s eyes sparkled at that. The son of the Harrington Emporium. You licked your lips at him as he hummed at you, his eyes suddenly turning lustful as he looked down at you.

“Mmm… He is a pretty boy.” You turned your body to be closer to his ear as you talked in a sultry tone.

“Can I have him Eddie? Please?” He chuckled at that, but a new obsession was growing in his head, storming his mind. “I’ll share him, I promise…”

“We can plan on him being the next White Rabbit.” He says and your chest was filled with excitement as your hand reached for his cheek to make him turn to you, licking your lips as you talked.

“I’m the hunter next year.”

“He’s all yours.”

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny, you're so funny with your twitching nose.

Second part maybe? Do you guys want Stevie?

REBLOGS MAKE ME REALLY HAPPY YOU KNOW.

A/N: Yeah, kinda came out of my shell with this one, I hope you all like it, and if you don't well, you do you booboo. TO ALL MY FRIENDS THAT WAITED FOR THIS, HERE YOU GO, I LOVE YOU, MWAH.

[clockwayswrites]

Bleeding Out, Bleeding In - the Start

This is the start of the resulting fic from the winning poll option of 'Crime Boss is a Dangerous Job'. And boy did it go places.

A solid 40 of you wanted to wait for ao3, but the other 59 are feral gremlins who want a part now! Those who want to wait, don't feel pressured to read. This might be up on ao3 this week or if not then next week! (Yes, that doesn't add up to 100, one vote is me so I can see the poll results.)

wc: 1059 Content Warnings: canon typical violence, blood, blood drinking, mentions of death and dying, brief mentions of human tracking, so much cussing.

-

Brainless motherfuckers.

Every single one of them, brainless motherfuckers.

One would think that eight heads in a duffel bag would have been enough.

One would think that people would learn his fucking rules. They were easy rules. Don’t hurt kids. Don’t sell to kids. Don’t hurt sex workers. Don’t traffic people. Don’t fuck with him.

And these motherfuckers had fucked with him. They had fucked with his rules.

Red Hood stared down at the lifeless eyes of the traitorous lieutenant.

Ex-lieutenant.

Brainless motherfucker.

Hood was insulted that someone that incompetent had managed to make him bleed, even if it had been eleven against one. And fuck if he wasn’t bleeding badly. Hood pressed his hand tighter to his wound with a hiss and let himself slump back against the grimy wall of the ally that he had slunk into. His hand became wet with warmth.

He must have already bled through the hasty field bandage that he had slapped on the wound.

Numbers slipped through Red Hood’s foggy mind as he tried to calculate about just how bad of a fact that was— about how heavily he must be bleeding out. Fuck if he wasn’t bleeding out.

Could he make it to his safe house in time? No. Could someone make it to him in time? Maybe, but who could he call? He wasn’t going to turn around and let another lieutenant stab him in the other side. B— maybe it would be better to just bleed out than deal with B and another lecture. As if this hadn’t been in self defense. As if he hadn’t acted to stop kids from being sold. As if a moment of hesitancy about killing a man he’d been working closely with for a year had been what got Hood in this spot.

And Dick was off world.

Dick was always off world when he needed him.

That wasn’t fair. What did Dick owe him? It’s not like they had ever been family. Dick had never wanted him. The last person who had wanted him didn’t even want him enough to stay sober.

Blood loss made him maudlin, apparently.

Dying by explosion had been easier.

“You know, not what I expected to find dumpster diving tonight.”

Hood’s hand dropped to brush over the grip of his gun. It was up and aimed before his head even had time to lull towards the voice. The hand holding the gun was steady even as his vision swam staring down the sight.

“Not that I’m doubting you can use that, Boss, but would rather you didn’t,” the stranger said, hands up in the air. One large duffel sat at their feet. Another smaller duffel was slung over their back. A hoodie at least three sizes too big swamped the slim figure— hiding both their form and face. The steel toed boots looked comically large at the end of stick thin legs.

Hood knew better than to think they weren’t a threat.

Anyone could be a threat in Gotham.

“Really, Boss, I’m just out here dumpster diving for supplies,” they continued, motioning to the warehouse district around them. “Not going to lie and say I won’t happily loot your corpse if you keel over right there, but would rather you stay breathing. I can help with that, if you let me.”

“And if I say no?” Hood asked, his voice a breathless rasp even through the modulation of the helmet.

“If you say no to the help, I’ll just be on my way. There are other dumpsters to go through like the feral raccoon that I am.”

His arm dropped down to hang limply at his side. He didn’t take his finger off the trigger. He shouldn’t trust this stranger. “Look more like a street rat to me.”

“We’ll compromise to possum then,” they said, slowly lowering their arms.

He shouldn’t trust this stranger. Did it mater if he did?

He was bleeding out.

The gun slotted back into its holster.

“There you are Boss, we’ll get you patched back up.”

Hood blinked. They were tucking themselves under his shoulder, leaning him up off the warehouse wall.

Hood blinked. They were disabling security on a heavy, cast iron door set into a concrete floor.

Hood blinked.

“Not going to lie, Boss, you’re in a bad way.” The words were distant— like listening to them through a thick wall. Static ran under the words. Static that burrowed under his skin and into his blood.

Static that burned at a part of him he tried to ignore.

“Think they got something pretty vital with that knife.”

He didn’t want to burn.

“Stitched you up but…”

He didn’t want to die.

“Oh Boss.”

Not again.

“I know, Boss.”

A cold hand brushed over his temple and he couldn’t hold back the whine at the sensation. He strained to arch up into the touch. He wanted it. He wanted to feel. He didn’t want to slip away again. He didn’t want that void of death. He didn’t want to die again.

The voice shushed him. “I know.”

He trembled. The static sang in his veins.

“There’s something I can try, Boss, but it will change thing.”

Things were always changing.

“Not like this. You’re not on the knife’s edge yet. You’re still living. If you die you right now you tip over to the other side.”

He’d done that before.

“I know, Boss. But if we do this, you’re not going to tip over anymore, you’re going to balance on that knife’s edge. Not dead but not alive. It’s a fine line to walk.”

Everything in his life was a tightrope: hero, villain; son, enemy; brother, stranger. What was one more thing? Alive, dead.

He didn’t want to be dead again.

“Okay, Boss, okay.”

The hand pulled a whine from his throat as it moved away. A soft coo hushed him quiet again. The sound rumbled in with the static untill the soothing noise sat inside him.

His head tilted up as something slid under his neck. Hands guided his head to lay back down onto a soft surface.

Something wet dripped against his lips. Spice bloomed across his tongue.

“There you go, Boss,” the voice soothed. The coo rumbled in his chest like a fluttering bird. “Drink up.”

Cold skin and wet warmth pressed against his lips.

Jason drank.

[banjjakz]

Seven Days at Granny Orimoto's Flower Shop ; Yuuta x F!Reader

My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden. As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service. Please think of me kindly.

Or: An odd boy shows up every night begging for a job offer. Did you mention that he gives you handwritten letters? Do you have to report a workplace romance if the only other employee is your boss, who is currently dying? Asking for a friend.

notes: commission for the lovely mielle! thank you very kindly for 1) commissioning me!!!!!! and 2) putting up with my compulsion to surpass any and all word count specifications

warnings: general off-putting vibes, casual discussions of child death, implied stalking (at the very least), unethical(…? maybe ethically gray?) necromancy, etc. y'all know what's about to go down

♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

Life as a florist is every bit the dream that you’d hoped it would be.

The thought of working from nine to five in some cubicle for the rest of your life was enough to drive you out of university before even completing the feeble attempt you’d half-assedly made at a degree. While the path to your current state of employment had not been linear, easy, or even recommended, you cannot imagine ending up anywhere else.

You’re lucky enough as it is that Granny Orimoto was willing to take you on – perhaps, at first, out of pity – as a shop-hand. That day, all those months, is still as clear as unmarred waters in your mind. What a pitiful image you must have made: underfed, poorly clothed, with roving, vacant eyes.

Nevertheless, you adjusted quickly and gratefully to your new place of employment. Within months, your sense of self and purpose in life had been restored, watered and nurtured underneath the guiding light of Granny Orimoto’s flower shop. Like a corpse risen again, your days were once more filled with hope and aspirations.

Eventually, Granny Orimoto began bestowing upon you more and more responsibilities. You tend to think of your daily tasks as privileges more than anything else. You’ve graduated far beyond merely ringing customers up on the till – at this point, you’re somewhat of a budding horticulturalist. Or, at least, that’s what you’d like to think on your good days.

Recently, Granny Orimoto has even begun to entrust you to manage the shop on your lonesome for several days out of the week. It used to be the case that she would require you to work only hours that coincided with her own availability, so that you might fall under her constant supervision. Of course, this was back when you could barely keep a plant alive. Nowadays, things are quite different.

Quite different, indeed.

On this slow, Monday evening, managerial status finds its way to you once more. Closing the shop used to feel weird, without Granny Orimoto there to lay into you about your posture, or your clumsiness, or your naturally shy, stuttering nature. Now, it’s starting to feel eerily more and more like business as usual.

When the bell above the front door rings, you don’t think too much of it – this town is a bit of a tourist trap, so there are quite a few out-of-towners who aren’t used to respecting closing times. Usually, you’re too nice to shoo them out, but the weight of the day bears heavily upon your apron-clad shoulders.

But when you spin around on your heel, the polite-yet-firm “we closed four minutes ago” withers on your tongue like dead leaves crumbling away upon the unrepentant, earthen ground.

The most disturbing thing is not that he’s exactly your type of handsome: tall, gaunt, malnourished, with a strange, lost look in his wideset eyes. It would be easier, somehow, if your immediate and arresting attraction to the gangly stranger was the most of your worries.

Perhaps what unnerves you so, is the fact that you are powerless to do anything but devote the entirety of your attention to the odd young man. The terra cotta pot once in your grasp has suddenly been placed on the nearest shelf. The gardener’s gloves on your hands have now been stripped away and flung carelessly to the ground, the delicate flesh of your fingers on display for the world to see.

“Are you hiring?” He asks. The lights flicker. Granny Orimoto should really stop fighting you about calling an electrician – they aren’t that expensive.

No, is what you should say, because you don’t have the authority to answer this question and also the thought of having to train someone else when you are just barely getting the hang of your newfound managerial status is a terrifying prospect.

And yet, what ends up leaving your mouth is:

“Yes.”

His black hair is overgrown and in dire need of a trim. The bangs are in a liminal state: too short to part, too long for comfort. It dangles limply in his eyes. Those eyes. Big and glassy and dark, like a dead doe gazing up, unseeingly, at the sky.

“Okay,” he says. “Is there an application that I could fill out?”

Is he not cold? The weather chills significantly at night, and his layers look rather thin. Or maybe that’s just the way the clothes hang off of him. “No, it’s alright. You can just – um, you’re good.”

“I’m…?”

“You’re good,” you repeat and then you have to fight for control over your own body, so that you can turn around and break eye contact before it actually kills you.  “When can you start? Do you have a phone number? Um, so we can get in touch with you about scheduling and training and verify your location and such and so forth.”

Okay, that last sentence was hastily tacked on. You’ll be the first to admit that much. But what kind of girl would you look like, asking a random stranger for his number out of the blue?

You hear more than you see him shuffle his feet, still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Um, no, sorry. I don’t have a phone.”

“E-mail?”

“Ah..no…would communication via letter be alright?”

What is his problem?

He shows up, four minutes past closing, poorly dressed and clearly in poor health, as well, to inquire about a job opening, and doesn’t even have a phone or any form of contact to provide other than handwritten correspondence?

Is this a prank? Are you being pranked, right now? You pause your fastidious, frustrated handling of today’s arranged bouquets just to surreptitiously scan your surroundings for any hidden cameras.

It’s like the man of your dreams has walked through the door. It’s almost too good to be true. You know you have eclectic tastes—and this is exactly why you’ve never had a boyfriend, before.

Because what living man could possibly compare to the fictional freakshows you stay up late at night reading about? Who would be worth fawning over, when you are already well equipped with a wealth of off-putting – and, quite frankly, disturbing – characters of ill-repute? Never has there been a living, breathing vessel capable of catching your jaded, heavy eyes.

Until now, that is.

“Sure,” you say, allowing the brain-rot to take control of your faculties. “Give me one second to write down our mailing information.”

But before you can cling desperately to another excuse to evade his magnetic presence, the strange boy speaks up, alluring you with the unsettlingly tranquil timbre of his voice: “That won’t be necessary. I can hand deliver the letters every day, around this time.”

You blink, sizing him up once more. Any normal human being would find this situation incredibly odd and even worth of a police report.

However, you’re comfortable in your own skin and are able to recognize that the screws you’ve knocked loose over time have, for better or worse, permanently altered your threshold for “red” or “green” flag recognition. For all you care, the flag could be purple. You aren’t thinking about flags right now. You’re thinking about his murky bangs, dark and deep, a rich obsidian, metastasizing over the smooth expanse of his alabaster forehead like a natural disaster.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting at this time every night, then.”

For the first time this evening, his gaunt face split into a tender grin, pink lips parting like spliced flesh. Somehow, he’s able to make the act of smiling something gory, something haunting. Your eyes are glued to the bone-white of his teeth. It’s like watching a car crash. You want, desperately, to look away. You cannot.

“I’m glad,” says the strange boy. “I’ll be here every night, right on time.”

A soft breeze stirs outside, just restless enough to tickle teasingly at the windchimes which dangle from the shop’s awning. Usually, the barrier of the front door dulls the melody. Tonight, you can hear the bells loud and clear.

Before you can think to demand (beg) that he reveal additional identifying information about himself – like, say, his name – the boy has all but disappeared from sight. Incredulously, you whirl around on your heel, scanning every visible inch of the shop for any possible clue as to where he went. But your searching is all for naught. It seems that he is, both in presence and absence, a complete mystery to you.

Well. There are certainly worse things that have happened to you. At least you got to chat with a cute, creepy guy for your trouble.

;

The next day, Granny Orimoto abstains from work yet again. Her modest apartment sitting atop the flower shop has kept her out of sight for many days, now. You’re no stranger to her fits and bursts of ill health, but you cannot recall the last time the brusque, full-hearted old lady has been bedridden for such a prolonged length of time.

You almost consider trying to drop by unannounced to bring her some soup and vitamins, but the thought dies immediately upon arrival. Memories of the last time you’d tried to caretake for her and were subsequently thrown out with indignant, irate gusto are enough to curb your momentary sympathy.

This means that you are effectively head of shop, once more. Over time, it gets easier to deal with the random accidents prone to any small, self-run business: leaks, clogs, jams, flickering lights, disappearing items, strange sounds at odd hours with an unlocatable source. All of it, you handle with def improvisational methods.

Even the spontaneously shattering bathroom mirror is no match for your handywoman capabilities! Really, Granny Orimoto should be lucky that it is you who happened to show up on her doorstep just as her health began to take a dive.

These are the kinds of thoughts buzzing around your skull as twilight descends upon the horizon like flies to a carcass. The death of the day is, as usual, a bloody affair: hues of bright vermillion spill across the sky, setting everything in the shop a brilliant, flagrant shade of fresh-burning red. The terracotta pots seem almost to be radiating with internal heat.

Night comes soon enough, bringing with it a brisk chill in the air. The wind rustles the windchimes, a forewarning of what is to come.

And sure enough, at 8:04 P.M., there he is, lingering in the doorway, daring to take not one step past the threshold, just as he’d done yesterday, that first night.

“Good evening.”

Clutched in his fingers is a wrinkled letter, wrapped in plain stationery. He offers it to you with both hands, politely.  

The space between the both of you evaporates in the fraction of a second it takes for you to cross the shop and greet him back, accepting the letter with greedy hands and a greedier heart. “Good evening. Thank you for the correspondence.”

“Thank you for receiving it,” he replies, scratching the back of his head in a stupidly endearing self-conscious gesture. “I know the manner of communication is a bit unconventional… sorry about that…”

“It’s okay.” And it really is. You, of all people, are no stranger to unforeseen and harrowing life circumstances. That the young man does not possess a phone or email address is not so uncommon, anyways – you’ve had time to reflect on the situation, and for all his off-putting looks and strangely formal manner of speaking, he could easily be a country mouse who has recently relocated to a more urban area. Who are you to judge?

“Shall I have a response waiting for you tomorrow night?”

He bows, then, for a bit longer and a bit deeper than what is normally appropriate for two virtual strangers. “I’d be grateful. Thank you for the trouble.”  

Once more, he evaporates seemingly into thin air, leaving behind not even the faintest trace of his existence. He appears to possess an uncanny ability to slip out of sight just as your eyes fall shut in the millisecond it takes to blink, to breathe.

Taken in stride with his dark-circled eyes and general aura of mysterious tragedy, the whole schtick is a little bit sexy, you have to admit. His vibe is that of a haunted family heirloom: beautiful, priceless, stained in generations of blood and cursed to doom those who dare to draw too near.

Your eagerness is almost feral as you tear apart the seal to the envelope in your hands, greedily pawing at the innards. What awaits you is a handwritten letter, complete with smudged pencil marks obscuring some of the more intricate kanji scribbled onto the page. Some of his radicals waver, lines bending or sprawling in odd and abnormal ways, as though he’d been shaking when we wrote it.

 As though he’d been nervous. So nervous, in fact, that upon handing you the thing, he had to immediately abscond from the premises without another word.

Cute.

To Whom it May Concern,

Thank you very kindly for your willingness to take me on as an apprentice to your shop. Please allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Okkotsu Yuuta. I am a recent graduate of a martial arts vocational school. I just completed a year-long internship abroad in Africa. Due to my recent re-entry into Japan, I am still in the process of setting up my phone and internet. I apologize for the inconvenience and I am extremely sorry for the burden.

As a supervisor and business, you may benefit from the set of skills that I have to offer. I can lift upwards of 25kg. I am neat and detail oriented. Due to past life experiences, I am a fast learner and quick to adapt to new surroundings. I am accustomed to taking orders and delivering results. It is my utmost goal to ensure the comfort and satisfaction of those around me. I am eager to be of service.

Please think of me kindly.

Upon reading the very last word of the very last line, you discover that your bottom lip has been bitten so severely that a fine trickle of blood is descending down your chin.

There is no resume or CV in sight – just this handwritten, strangle little letter in which he divulges some most interesting truths.

Is he playing mind games with you? “Accustomed to taking orders”? “Eager to be of service”? Is he trying to tell you something? Outside of the hiring process, that is.

The note itself is perfectly polite and proper. It’s you whose mind succumbs hedonistically to the gutter. Oh, for shame.

 At night, the shop tends to turn into a gnarly jungle of pots and leaves and vines and poorly-placed smatterings of soil; you wade through theses trenches, aided by no more than the moonlight attempting to feebly infiltrate through the shutters – as the lights are out, again. Should probably call someone about that.

In your frantic haste, it’s a miracle your hands aren’t sliced by a spare pair of shears lying forgotten on some counter or another. Before injury occurs, you’ve already located what you’ve been searching for: a usable pen and some clean, uncrumpled paper.

The matchbox in your back pocket proves useful as you strike up a flame and light a nearby candle, paying no mind to the potential danger of the wobbly column of fire in a room full of fauna.

Like a woman possessed, you feverishly scribble away at your reply. It takes you longer to draft this one particular letter than it had to complete your college entrance exams.

But it’s alright – the candle beside you burns throughout the night, neither the wick nor the wax diminishing even a wink.

Dear Okkotsu,

Your eagerness to work hard is clearly evident. Color me impressed.

As fate would have it, I am in dire need of some help with running the shop. The owner has been absent with illness for quite some time and the workload is starting to get unmanageable. The addition of a strong set of arms is more than welcome. Even when it was the two of us putzing around, we still wouldn’t have been able to do some of the heavier lifting.

I’m curious to hear more about your passion to serve. Was this instilled in you during your time at vocational school? What does “being of service” mean to you?

While we are ultimately a public-facing shop, the stream of customers is slow, and your daily tasks will often look like physical labor and horticultural activities. But, from your letter, it sounds like this will pose no object.

Overall, your enthusiasm is appreciated and your hard-working attitude is attractive to future employers.

You could start as early as tomorrow.

Please do respond at your convenience.

It was rather quickly with only a slight bit of panic running through your veins that you tacked on “to future employers.” Even while reading it back, you cringe a little bit. Too forward? Oh well. It’s written in ink and it’s much too late to go for hunting for another clean piece of paper in the shop’s opaque blackness.

Speaking of which… you really should call an electrician. And a plumber. And some sort of handy man, to help you clean up all the broken glass from the shattered bathroom mirror. And maybe it may also me a good idea to get in touch with a security footage company and inquire about their installation rates. It certainly can’t be normal; how many things go missing so frequently. Although you’ve spent most of your waking hours with an aging elderly woman up until very recently, you’re quite sure that dementia isn’t contagious.

Ah, well. These are all things to take care of tomorrow. Sighing, you tuck away the letter into your back pocket for safe keeping before you go about locking up.

You try not to think too hard about the lingering gaze you feel on the back of your neck. If anything, it feels better than being completely alone.

;

The fragrant scent of okayu fills your nose as you climb the stairs to reach Granny Orimoto’s apartment.

Usually, you would not dare to trespass inside her abode, despite it’s close proximity to the shop. She is a grouchy old lady who does not take kindly to meddling. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seed of worry in the pit of your belly, which had blossomed over the course of the past few weeks into full-blown concern for her wellbeing. Besides her once-daily text message in the evening confirming the status of shop operations, you have not seen or heard from the old woman in what must be almost half a month at this point.

So, you’ve bitten back your pride and prepared a meal to personally deliver to her.

You are moderately concerned when there is no response to your three separate attempts at knocking on the door. Granny Orimoto hadn’t responded to any of your text messages, so you’d naively assumed she’d been asleep and hadn’t seen them. But is it possible to sleep through the ruckus that you’re creating?

The tension in your body only heightens when you try to the doorknob and realize, in shock and slight horror, that it’s open.

“Granny Orimoto?” You call out, haltingly yet loudly – loud enough to reach her wizened ears. “Granny, I’m sorry, I’ll be coming in now! Pardon the intrusion!”

Taking care not to jostle the still-hot bowl of rice porridge in your hands, you slip off your shoes at the Genkan and make your way inside of the apartment. Although you’ve only been here once before – and it had been an extremely brief stay before Granny Orimoto had shooed you off the premises – it still doesn’t feel all that unfamiliar to you.

It’s a traditional set-up, that much is for sure. Not much has changed, either. Same old floral blankets folded in various assortments and piles around the tiny room, same old plastic draining rack laid across the kitchen sink.

And, of course, there is that strange pair of guest slippers by the front door.

A bright, childish pink with the width and depth to accompany the foot of a young girl no older than six, these slippers had given you pause the first time you’d set foot in Granny Orimoto’s apartment. As far as you know, the old lady doesn’t have any living relatives with which she maintains contact. She spends every holiday alone, in her room, and refuses any offers of companionship between the two of you. You’ve always assumed something tragic must have happened, for a woman this advanced in age to have no one to visit or host during the New Year.

So why, then, does she keep a pair of children’s house slippers by the front door?

Although they are neatly placed and carefully aligned, the heels of the slippers face the direction of the household – as though they’ve been recently taken off and exchanged for outside shoes. Like someone has been here and left. Were they in that position when you stopped by before? Perhaps Granny Orimoto set them that way during her last cleaning.

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you move past the entrance area and towards where you know the bedroom awaits. There is no overt stench of death and decay, so you aren’t afraid of walking in on her corpse. You’re, like, 85% sure that you could mentally recover from handling that situation, but it would be unfortunate and would likely mean an endless night for you and the poor EMTs who would be dispatched to the scene.

The bedroom door, too, is slightly ajar, and when you push it open all the way, you’re greeted by a sight that hits you squarely in the chest, knocking the wind from your lungs, stealing your voice, marring your eyes with shock and sympathy.

Granny Orimoto lies on her back, skin so pale that it is a near perfect match to the futon covers draped around her frail body. Even from this distance, you are able to clearly track the pathway of her veins as they course across her, the deep blues and greens standing out abnormally against the thin, alabaster flesh. Her hair, significantly grayer than the last time you’d seen her, has escaped from it’s usual, customary low-slung bun. You’ve never seen Granny Orimoto in any other kind of style – in fact, you’d begun to think – somewhat mischievously – that her hair had been surgically arranged to the nape of her neck.

But now, it sprawls around her skull in scraggly spirals, spilling across the pillow like leaking liquid. Thin and brittle, you’re sure that if she tried to gather it into a bun as she once had, it would split and break into a million fine pieces of ash.

“So, you’ve come.”

That hoarse voice snaps you out of your trance. You hadn’t even noticed that she was awake. One moment, you’d been gazing at her motionless body – and the next, you find her entirely unchanged except for the fact that her eyes are now open, peering at you. Unblinking. It’s disconcerting.

It looks like the effort pains her, to lift one hand and pat weakly at the comforter. “You came all the way here, silly girl. Might as well sit.”

You aren’t being kicked out?

Wow. She really must be dying.

Gingerly, you fold your legs beneath you and linger at the edge of the futon. “Granny, how are you feeling? I brought okayu. If you are feeling up to it, please eat. You must take care of your health.”

“Alright then,” says Granny Orimoto, mildly. “You’ll have to help me.”

“Of course.”

There is ultimately an insignificant amount of spillage down the front of her shirt, in the end. Still, you take it as an opportunity to encourage her to take a bath and change into fresh clothes, which you expect she has not done in far too long. This, too, requires your assistance. You don’t mind it at all. In fact, it brings you peace – to be able to care for the woman who had most probably saved your life by taking you in, all that time ago.

When it’s all said and done, Granny Orimoto lays back in the bed. The sheets could use some washing and the futon itself should surely be hung out in the sun to dry, but you recognize that this might be a bit too much excitement for her today. Having eaten and bathed, Granny Orimoto appears ready to return to her slumber.

You decide not to push your luck by overstaying your welcome. “Please rest well, Granny Orimoto. I will come back soon.”

It is when you are almost past the threshold of the bedroom door that you hear Granny’s whisper, faint as smoke and so soft it almost doesn’t sound like the stubborn, strong-willed woman you once knew:

“You remind me of my granddaughter.”

As though you’ve been struck by lightning, your body is immediately paralyzed, muscles helpless to do anything but twitch in confusion, overstimulation. “Oh…? I hope she is well…”

“She’s dead,” says Granny Orimoto. “The stench of death follows you.”

Ironic, coming from a woman who is quite obviously preparing to approach the far shore herself. “I see.”

“Whatever is hanging around you, get it taken care of. You’ll stink up the shop and the plants will wither.”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Are you taking care of my zinnias?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Better be. How can you own a flower shop if you can’t take care of zinnias…”

You want to whip around and ask her what the hell she means by that, but the rumbling of her soft snores fill the space before you can get another word in edgewise.

As you make your way downstairs, Granny’s words continue to marinate in your mind – and not just her implication that the shop would be left to you. That she thought it fit to tell you that you remind her of her dead granddaughter was certainly an event that occurred in your life. But what exactly had she been on about, telling you that you smell like death?

In absentminded thought, your hand fiddles around in your jacket pocket with the latest letter from Okkotsu. You can’t stop thinking about his response to your last letter.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Are you taking care? The seasons are changing during this time, so I hope your health is faring well.

I’m glad that my enthusiasm comes across as clearly as my physical capabilities.  Sometimes I struggle to convey my intentions and inner thoughts. It seems like we can understand each other well, even while communicating through letters, which makes me happy.

To me, being of service means unobstructed and clear-minded dedication of the self, body and mind, to another’s fulfillment. Not dissimilar to pure love. This “pure” element is important to me. In fact, I believe total service is a form of pure love. Would you agree?

Maybe this is a bit strange to say, and you might hate me for it, but you remind me of a girl I once knew. She is long gone now. It has been nice to see some of her, again. Of course, it has been even nicer to get to know you.

Regretfully, I cannot begin formal employment just yet. The country re-entry procedures are taking longer than expected and things are a bit complicated right now. It is burdensome, but if you could please kindly allow for some additional time I would be very grateful. I’m sorry to trouble you.

In the meantime, it’s fun to chat together, like this. I’d be happy if we could continue.

Take care not to catch a cold.

The first time you’d read it practically had you squealing into your hands like a schoolgirl. Pure love? Expressing concern for your health? Expressing his desire to continue exchanging letters, even if he can’t formally start the training process?

At this rate, you’re on track towards a confession.

Which, of course, is the ultimate goal. You could never forgive yourself for letting the physical manifestation of all your wildest fantasies slip away. No, you’ve got to reel him in. You’ve got to ensnare him in a web of infatuation, so convoluted and intense that he won’t be able to find his way out. You’ve already decided that he is yours. It’s only a matter of time before things fall into place.

As has become customary, Okkotsu drops by the shop at precisely 8:04 p.m. and not one moment sooner or later. You’ve grown to anticipate the tinkling of the windchimes which herald his otherwise soundless arrival. Like an apparition, his visage manifests in the front door.

There’s something different about tonight: uncertain, he chances a foot past the threshold. “Could I trouble you to come inside?”

Oh. Oh! Are you finally past the stage of contactless letter exchange? You could cry tears of joy. “Please come in.”

“Pardon the intrusion…”

When he breaks past the entry area, it’s as though a wave of heat pulses throughout not just your own body, but the entire shop, as well. A light sweat breaks out at the crest of your brow. Is this seasonally appropriate? You aren’t sure if there is any season wherein a heatwave past sundown is normal.

Okkotsu looks at you like a lost puppy, floundering at what to do, what to say next. You yourself are no less awkward, but you take on the burden of breaking the silence first:

“It’s funny, you mentioned in your letter that I remind you of a girl you once knew. Today, my boss said that I remind her of her dead granddaughter. Wouldn’t happen to be the same girl, huh?”

You’re trying for lighthearted, but the joke falls flat when Okkotsu pales, white as a ghost.

Damage control, damage control! “Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” he cuts you off, raising a hand. “I should’ve been forthright from the beginning. You aren’t too far off from the truth.”

Huh?

Okkotsu continues, “When I was a little boy, Mrs. Orimoto’s granddaughter and I were best friends. Her name was Rika. When she was six, Rika died in a car accident. I was with her at the time and failed to do anything to stop it from happening, or to save her. I’ve always been very sorry to Mrs. Orimoto, who raised Rika from a young age. By working at her shop, I hoped to repay some of that debt…”

You blink once, twice. Time seems to fall apart and reconstruct itself in the space it takes you to conjure up a response. What can you possibly say, to a story like that?

“You don’t, er, have to say anything,” mutters Okkotsu, as though he’s read your mind. “I know it’s heavy. But that’s the truth…”

“Okkotsu,” you say, voice tinny and faraway to your own ears. “You have a good heart.”

His downcast face shoots upwards, wide eyes seeking out your own with a desperate sheen to their dark, bottomless depths. “Huh…?”

“I mean it,” you press on, stepping closer as you do. He doesn’t even flinch or waver. You know this, because your senses are acutely aware of every fiber of his being. “Not many people would be that brave, or honor that sense of duty. You’re an admirable man. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

It seems you’ll be staying well past closing tonight to mop up the puddle that Okkotsu is about to melt into. His ears burn such a bright red that they almost glow in the dim lighting of the shop.

“I- I--!”

“So that’s the depth of your service,” you muse, your toes stopping just shy of his own, “or your ‘pure love’?”

Okkotsu’s eyes flutter shut. The sound of his gulp echoes like a gunshot. “Ah… er, miss manager, I—”

“Call me by my name. I’ve written it to you for a reason.”

Obeying your direct command, he feebly whispers your name, invoking you like he’s scared of what he’s about to summon. It sets a live wire alight at the base of your spine. Sparks fly throughout your body and it’s all you can do not to pounce on him then and there in this very shop, sleeping Granny upstairs be damned.

“Good. It seems you really are skilled at taking direction.”

His eyes are still closed when you nods, face flushed. Cute. You can’t help but want to tease him more, push him further. “Good job.”

His head all but hangs, now, as he resolutely refuses to make eye contact with you. In front of him, his hands are clasped suspiciously in front of his crotch – a detail which you take in ravenously, hungrily.

Curbing the overwhelming desire to do more, you settle with pushing your sealed envelope into his firm, solid chest with both hands, letting your fingernails press lightly into the muscle. “Here’s today’s letter. Read it and respond well.”

“Yes, I understand,” he says, eyes still shut, head still hung.

It requires you to stand on your tiptoes, when you try to lean into his ear and whisper: “You deserve a chance to make things right. Let me help you with this.”

You let him go, then, because you’re sure he’s about ready to burst at the seams. The last thing you throw his way is yet another bit of praise, because you’re a little bit awful: “I admire your idea of pure love, Okkotsu.”

Before tonight, you’ve never seen a grown man walk straight into a windowpane. Okkotsu reels back, nods and bows to you in acknowledgement before hightailing it out of the shop so fast that, as usual, you fail to actually see him go through the motions of stepping out and leaving. He’s always in such a rush. An odd one, he is.

Good thing “odd” just your type.

From that night onwards, Okkotsu starts making himself more available outside of his usual 8:04 p.m. haunting. Now, he’ll drop by early enough in the afternoons for his shadow to be visible against the door. Still, he resolutely avoids any times when current customers are present. You tease him, lightly, for this, asking how he plans to work partially as a sales attendant if he is afraid to interact with the customer base.

His response?

“I want to work here for two reasons,” he’d stated simply. “For you, and for Rika.”

Normal women would probably find an issue with their ideal man likening them to his dead childhood sweetheart. Fortunately, you are not normal. It’s flattering, even.

Clearly, Rika was another manifestation of his pure love. That you can even approach that category, let alone be mentioned in the same breath as her, is, to you, a vibrant green flag. You must be doing something right here.

So you continue intertwining yourself deeper and deeper with Okkotsu Yuuta: the letters are a constant in both of your daily lives, as well as his visits become more frequent. As an interesting development, he’s started to bring you homecooked food. Usually, it is you who does the caregiving. The first time he shows up with an obento made specially for you – complete with a heart made out of specially cut seaweed set atop the fresh rice – you almost start crying.

Admittedly, it’s all moving very fast. Hasn’t it only been four days, now, since he’d first darkened your doorway, pitifully asking for a job with no form of communication? And now, here he is, feeding you the food he’d prepared for you to enjoy as you go about your closing shift.

“Would you ever want to go out?” You blurt, and then pause, mortified at the overtly forward implication to your words. “Like! To a restaurant! Or a café! You always bring me stuff. Let me treat you.”

“Hmmm…”

Okkotsu’s wide, dark eyes roll upwards in thought. “But I really like staying here. I like eating here. No one else gets to see your pleased, comfortable face while eating except me. I don’t think I can share that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, dizzy. “You don’t have to.”

This is the right answer. Despite his soft, youthful features, the ginger grin he offers you is undercut by the ominous glint in his intense gaze. “I don’t have to share?” He gathers some pickled plum in the chopsticks, bringing them to your open, waiting mouth. “It’s all for me?”

“I am,” you say, and accept the bitter, delicious fruit on the tip of your tongue. It is pungent. It is sweet. It is overwhelming. You almost aren’t able to swallow.

Time spent with Okkotsu makes life seem so fantastical that it almost blinds you to the world of the living. That night, you cannot find it within yourself to leave the shop and go home after closing, instead opting to chat with this gaunt, ghoulish boy until you are startled awake in the morning by your phone’s automatic alarm.

When you come to, you discover that you’d all but passed out behind the front desk, where the two of you had sat, talking, for hours into the night. Okkotsu is nowhere to be found, but in his absence is a crisply folded piece of paper lying innocently upon the desk. Hastily, you scrub at your eyes and smack your lips, trying to wake yourself up as much as is possible before you unfurl the letter and dive into its contents.

To You, Whom it Concerns,

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be apart from you?

If I could have, I would have stayed with you all throughout the night. I’m sorry to have left you by yourself. But you aren’t really alone. If you ever feel lonely, in the shop, please remember that I’m always there with you. Watching over you. Can you feel me?

Thanks for listening to me last night. It was a heavy story to tell, but now that I’ve confessed it, I feel so much lighter. And you accept me! Words can’t express how I feel, so please allow me to keep showing you.

Also, since Mrs. Orimoto isn’t well these days, can I ask that you don’t share with her that I’m here? The shock may worsen her condition. When she is no longer bedridden, I will tell her myself that I wish to remain and work in the shop. You shouldn’t be caught in the middle of my situation.

As always, I can’t wait to see you again. I miss you so much already, and I haven’t even left the shop yet. I’m writing this as I watch you sleep. Did you know that you snore a little bit? It’s cute.

Please think of me often.

On the one hand, you want to bury your face in your hands and scream and cry and maybe roll around and die a little bit. A love note! It’s a proper love note, this time. The thought makes your insides feel as though they’re being set alight with a bright, brilliant, inextinguishable flame.

On the other hand, Okkotsu’s mention of Granny Orimoto has brought to mind the fact that you haven’t heard from her in what is now two days. Usually, she’ll send you a message or two at the end of every day, making sure that things are in order and that you haven’t burned down the shop yet. But the last time you’d spoken to her had been when you brought over the okayu to soothe her sickly stomach…

Inexplicably, a chill overtakes your body.

Operating on autopilot, you pull yourself together – running a hand through your hair, smoothing your wrinkled clothes – and make your way out of the shop, to the external set of stairs running along the west wall.

With haste, you climb the steps, nearly tripping over yourself to reach the front door which has been left, once again, unlocked. The sense of wrongness occupying your faculties only heightens when you realize this must mean that Granny Orimoto has not been up out of bed since you’d last visited.

When you stop to toe off your shoes at the genkan, you notice that the bright pink pair of children’s house slippers are nowhere to be found, absent from their perpetual perch by the front door, as though someone – or something – has stepped inside.

Mind whirling a mile a minute, you push into the apartment and immediately reel back at the offensive scent of pure, unadulterated rot.

Oh.

Oh, no.

It could be the spoiled ingredients in the fridge, you think, desperately, as you hustle towards the bedroom. It could be anything. Anything but what it is you’re most afraid of.

Dazed, confused, scared, and still freshly woken up, your clumsy limbs somehow manage to collide with one of the low-sitting tables filling the living space. The abundance of knick-knacks and keepsakes cluttering the surface clatter in indignation, making an obscene ruckus as they fall over and to the floor. Upon closer inspection, you realize, to your horror, that it is an altar which you’d disturbed.

The only things left unshaken by your blundering blight are two framed photos: one of which displays the portrait of a young girl, no older than six, with long, dark hair and a serene smile. She seems to peer at you through the barriers of the picture frame, through the barrier of time. Her gaze hooks into your soul and invites you to step closer, to look harder. The longer you stare, the higher the gooseflesh on your skin raises in alarm. It’s an uphill battle to slide your gaze over to the picture beside her, which displays the likeness of a young boy close to her in age – presumably unrelated to her, given their distinct features, and yet, he is placed next to her on what is surely a memorial altar meant to honor and house the deceased.

While the personal effects and other supplicating items have all been disrupted and thrown off by your collision, the incense in front of the two picture frames still burns brightly, steadfastly. Oddly, it does nothing to quell the horrid stench of decay in the apartment. If anything, the altar seems to be exasperating the smell, which brings involuntary tears to your eyes and a pucker to your lips.

It's less so that the stench itself is what drives you to such a reaction; rather, the sensation invading your olfactory senses fills you with an abominable concoction of violent emotions: rage, pity, sorrow, envy, despair. You are drawn follow the source of these feelings, and your feet lead you to the bedroom, hands trembling underneath the sheer weight of all that you are experiencing as they push the slightly ajar door all the way open.

A gasp escapes you, unbidden. There, in that same, white futon adorned with layers and layers of her signature floral blankets, lies the corpse of Granny Orimoto. You can tell she’s dead because her skin has started to sag and bloat in strange and inhuman ways. This is the least surprising thing before your eyes.

Next to Granny sits a little girl – the spitting image of the girl in the portrait you’d glimpsed mere moments ago. Her gaze had once been trained steadfastly on Granny’s body, but now she looks up at you, unblinking, all-seeing.

“Hello,” says the girl, with a little girl’s voice.

“Hi,” you respond. “Do you live here?”

“Yes,” says the girl. “This is my granny.”

You remind me of my granddaughter.

She’s dead.

Granny Orimoto’s parting words to you echo in your head, rattling your brain, fizzling your consciousness.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rika. Granny Orimoto told me about you.”

Slowly, cautiously, as though you are approaching a spooked animal (ironic, given the fact that it is you who is shaking like a leaf), you crouch down and kneel on the floor, sitting on your haunches in a polite manner, mirroring the girl before you. Granny Orimoto’s body is the only thing separating you as you both sit, face to face, hands clasped in your laps, peering curiously at one another.

“I know,” says Rika. “Yuuta told you about me, too.”

Of course she would know about the conversations you and Yuuta have. This also might as well happen. At this point, after all you’ve just witnessed – first, the fresh corpse of your former employer, and now, the physical manifestation of a girl who died over ten years ago – there is very little left that could happen which would truly shock you out of your wits.

“Yes, he did. Have you been hanging out in the shop? Have you been lonely?”

The girl sticks out her bottom lip. “Yeah. You guys didn’t pay attention to me. Even when I was really loud, or turned the lights off, or broke the mirror. Sorry for breaking the mirror. I was mad.”

“It’s okay to be mad, but we mustn’t break things, or hurt others. I’m sorry for not noticing you sooner. Do you like plants and gardening? Like your granny?”

Rika nods. “Mhm, yeah. But Granny never lets me into the shop. Granny says all I do is mess things up. Granny says I’m no good. Granny says people died because of me. Did you know my dad is dead, too?”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay,” says Rika. “I wanted him to die.”

You blink. “Did you want Granny Orimoto to die, too?”

She takes a moment to contemplate before answering. “Granny had to die if I was going to play with Yuuta again.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, desperate to understand. When she begins to explain, you lean forward, forgetful of the fact that it is an old woman’s corpse which lies beneath you.

“Granny has already lived for so long. I wanted to come back. I died before my seventh birthday. Yuuta and I were supposed to spend it together. Yuuta never forgot about me. Yuuta talks to me every day. Yuuta went to Africa. Have you ever been to Africa? I went with Yuuta because he made a shrine for me there. Now Yuuta is back in Japan. Yuuta promised that we would play together again. Yuuta said he needed some time to prepare things. Yuuta is good at things like that – Yuuta can fight and do magic. Yuuta does jujutsu. Do you know jujutsu?”

“I know it,” you tell her.

“Yeah, Yuuta has powers. Yuuta knows a lot about dying and things like that. So, anyways, Yuuta said he would use his powers to help me come back so we can play together again. Yuuta said that me and granny have to switch places. I said ‘OK, Yuuta!’ and then Yuuta said he needed seven days. What day is it today?”

Somehow, you know the answer, even without looking at your phone’s calendar. “Monday.”

“Oh, so it’s been seven days. Yay! We can play together again. Do you want to play with us, too?”

“I would like to play together, yes.”

Abruptly, Rika unfurls from her graceful little seated position and makes her way over to you, crawling over Granny Orimoto’s corpse. You try not to think too hard about the graphic squelching that occurs underneath the childish palms of Rika’s tiny hands.

“Yay! Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Yuuta will be there.”

You don’t have the heart to tell her that Yuuta only swings by when the sun is out of sight. Her arms raise, clearly indicating that she’d like to be carried, and you are content to oblige her, as you scoop her up in your arms and make good on her direction. You exit Granny Orimoto’s apartment with Rika in your arms, her little feet dangling from your hip. The bright pink pair of slippers almost fall off as you make your way down the stairs, and you take care to remind her to make sure not to lose them.

When you get back to the shop, you must admit that you were mistaken in thinking Yuuta would not be there. As though he’d been anticipating this – which, you realize, he absolutely was, as this marks seven days from the first time he’d set foot in the shop – Yuuta stands by the front desk, wringing his hands before him nervously, sweat visible at his temples.

The both of you lock eyes, and he smiles, warm and fuzzy and entirely ill-fitting for the increasingly absurd scenario in which you find yourself. But you have little time to interrogate him about what the hell is going on – for Rika leaps from your arms and hits the ground running, screaming at the top of her little lungs, Yuuta!! Yuuta!!!, excited and so full of life, in only the way that children can scream in pure joy. Pure love.

He crouches and readily meets her, scooping the little girl up in his arms and sweeping her into the air, spinning round and round with Rika in his arms. Rika-chan!! Rika-chan!!! he cries – literally cries, that is, as you cannot help but spot the stray tear or two running down the swells of his flushed cheeks.

It is right as you are starting to feel a bit voyeuristic that Yuuta slows to a stop and finds your eyes once more. He comes to you, then, with Rika still perched on his hip, a chafingly tender smile splitting his face into two.

“I knew it was you,” he whispers with charged intensity, voice potent with unspoken feeling. “I knew you were special. I’ve always known. You never judge me. You always listen. You accepted me. And you accepted Rika, too.”

Have you? Accepted them, that is.

You shock yourself when you realize that you really have accepted all that’s transpired. Granny Orimoto saved your life when she’d taken you in and, for that, you must always be grateful. But from what Rika shared with you about how she’d been treated as a small child, and from what you’ve observed from Yuuta’s generally traumatized disposition and extreme reluctance to come face-to-face with the old woman, you realize, now, that there is a reason why Granny Orimoto had no living family to speak to or rely on when she was in her final days.

Whether or not her death had something to do with Yuuta’s apparent preternatural abilities (you remind yourself to ask about that later), it remains clear that she’d been in ill health long before you’d arrived at the flower shop. With no one to talk to. No one to care for her. You’d always felt pity. But, now, you realize that it may have been a situation of her own doing.

How could you argue with the living, breathing testament to that fact, who stand before you in fresh-faced, smiling glee?

“Of course I accept you both,” you say, earnestly, and mean it. “Rika is too cute not to love!” The young girl giggles, bashfully burying her face in Yuuta’s neck.

“And what about me?” Yuuta’s brows are quirked, his smile dipping into something a bit more cutting, a touch more heated than his simple joy from moments ago. “Am I cute enough to love, too?”

The answer is simple and requires no effort on your part: “I love you, Yuuta.”

You had more to say after that, but it proves a bit challenging to monologue your undying devotion to this man while said man is currently enveloping your mouth inside of his own. He kisses like a black hole: devouring, dark, impossibly comprehensive, and providing you without hope for possible escape.

He really is your type.

;

After those first seven days, Yuuta finally begins training at the shop. And Rika joins in, as well.

The three of you make an odd, adorable little family unit. After Yuuta had taken care of cleaning and renovating the apartment space upstairs, the three of you moved in without further delay. Your days are filled with home-cooking, raising Rika, maintaining the shop, and working alongside the man who has quickly made himself to be your life partner in every endeavor.

In fact, so much of your life is consumed with this newfound domesticity that there is little reason for you to leave the shop in the first place. Whenever you stray too far outside, you are prone to headaches, dizziness, fatigue, and even fever. It’s best to stay where is familiar, you reason. And Yuuta’s cooking is too good for you to want to eat anywhere else. He makes sure you eat three times a day, at least, and insists you finish your plate every time. Perhaps this is why you can’t stand life outside of this four, cozy walls – where else could you possibly find contentment such as this?

The business is re-named to “Rika’s Flower Shop,” which all three of you find quite agreeable given the current state of affairs. More customers than ever flow in, attracted by the colorful designs hand-painted by Rika herself on the building exterior. You generate enough revenue for additional renovations to be made on the shop. There is enough room in the budget to hire some part-time shop hands – local university students in the area looking to support themselves.

Everything is coming to fruition. For once, you truly feel as though life is blossoming.

And you can attribute all of it, every last bit of happiness, to them: Granny Orimoto, Rika, and Yuuta. The happiness is so overwhelming that you don’t ever want to leave their side, not even to run to the konbini, or to visit the post office. Why would you need to leave, when everything you’ve ever wanted is right here?

You have a family, a home, a life. You’ll remain in this shop with your loves until the day you grow as old and sickly as Granny Orimoto, and you’ll likely die upstairs, lying next to Yuuta, the both of you wrinkled and gray, curled together atop the futon, exactly where Granny had wheezed her last, bitter breath.

You wonder if Rika was there to watch it happen. You wonder if Rika will be there to see the both of you off, too.

You hope so. You really, really hope so.

You’re sure death will be every bit the dream you’re hoping it will be.

[nagitosstolenhand]

okay does anyone else find it very icky that immediately after finding out kurogiri is a nomu and a victim of nonconsensual medical experimentation and malpractice. the pros n hpsc ppl immediately transfer him to a hospital for their docters to do nonconsensual medical experimentation on him to try and both see if they can turn them back into oboro and also just to see how the nomus tick. like maybe its cause i am a firm Kurogiri Should Be Allowed To Be Their Own Person And Should Actually Be Allowed Agency In Their Story believer but genuinely even if you think kurogiri is just amnesiac oboro this still feels shady on SO many levels.

also the fact we get NO comment from Mic or Aizawa. ik grief and anguish over the fact your dead highschool friend is an undead villainess butler now but they are the only vector we ever get updates on kurogiri so them never bringing it up just makes it feel like they dont care. let our dead best friends reanimated corpse be poked and prodded by a team of random government doctors. who cares what the actual person made from him says as long as theres some small vain hope they might get their long dead friend back.

this could all be very interesting and explore the hypocrisy of the heros/hpsc and give Mic n Aizawas relationship with kurogiri some genuine depth, but we don't get that because the kurogiri-oboro plot was inserted in for extra angst and an excuse to make aizawa extra pissed at and resentful of shigaraki and was just left there when it was time to chase another big shonen boss fight. i hope they actually manage to address any of this when the kurogiri-mic-aizawa plot actually shows up again but with how things are going. i severely doubt it. and after spinner and dabi i severely doubt they are actually going to find a genuinely satisfying conclusion to this arc. which is honestly just so fucking disappointing.

[dianneking]

I wish I knew (you wanted me)  Larissa / Reader angsty oneshot

Summary: Larissa announces her engagement. Reader can sense something is off.

Hi! Happy Sunday! It seems like it’s becoming a sort of tradition of mine to set you up with an angsty oneshot on the weekend, how fun (this is not a promise that this will keep happening, but it already happened two Sundays in a row, so…who knows?). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the gut-wrench that is today’s fic.  

You can read it on AO3 here

Tags: Mutual Pining, marriage of convenience, angst upon angst, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, guns and taser guns, violence, blood & injury,  hospitals, mentions of death, afterlife and hell, season 1 spoilers. Wordcount: 3906

You looked at her, surrounded by well-wishers, side by side with her newly-announced fiancé. By your side, Vlad leaned against the wall, his eyes on the tall frame of the principal as well. He was the one that broke the comfortable silence.

– She looks so happy. – No, she doesn't.

– What are you on about, look at her smiling away and showing off her ring. – It's a fake smile. Obviously. – What do you even mean? – How is it possible that you don't see it? Look at her eyes. When she's really smiling, her eyes crinkle up, and her nose scrunches up a little and you can almost feel the joy coming off of her. There's nothing of that sort now. She looks...hollow. – Are you sure you're not an empath? – Don't be a dick now, Vlad. You know perfectly well I am a no-show, the only normie in a family of outcasts. The only reason why they let me here at Nevermore is because of family traditions. And I managed to snag the history teaching position pretty soon after I finished uni, luckily, so I came back. – You might be a late bloomer. – Or I might actually be able to see what's plainly in front of my eyes. Whatever the reason she's doing it, it's not because it makes her happy. – Okay, maybe you are not an empath, maybe you are just obsessed with your boss. – I...am not! I look up to her, that's all. – Darling, we all look up to her, the woman is like six foot something. But when you do look at her, your eyes are basically heart shaped. Now that is plain for everyone to see. – Fat lot of good it does now, doesn't it? She’s going to get married soon anyway. It’s not like I’m going to confess to her on her wedding day. * You closed the door behind you, letting your eyes travel over her. – You look...beautiful, – you murmured, hating how your voice broke a little while saying it. She really did look glorious, her wedding gown hugging her frame, leaving her creamy shoulders bare, her collarbones decorated by a simple necklace. Her hair was coiffed in a similar updo to the one she usually wore, enriched by the lace veil cascading down her back from where it was pinned to the back of her head. Beautiful didn’t even start to describe Larissa Weems on her wedding day. And then she looked up at you from her sitting position and your breath caught in your throat at how her splendid blue eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Not the tears of nervous happiness one could expect of a bride about to get married: those were tears of heartbreak. Without thinking, you rushed by her side, kneeling beside her chair, your hand finding hers and curling around it. It was cold like a corpse's.

– You don't love him. It wasn't really a question, but she still shook her head, mutely.

– And I bet he doesn't love you either, does he? She shook her head again, pressing her lips together, as if to prevent herself from talking.

– Then why are you doing this? As the first tears broke the barrier of her lids and started rolling down her face, she looked away, unable or unwilling to answer. Resignation.

– Larissa, there's always other possibilities. You don't have to. – It's for the good of the school. – she whispered, brokenly. – But what about your happiness? Do you really want to be stuck in a loveless marriage of convenience? Something must have struck a nerve, because she bristled at this, hurt and anger and frustration mingling in her tone: – I'm doing this to protect my Nevermore family. And that includes you.

– Don't you dare tell me you are marrying him because of me. I'm sure there are other ways to solve this issue. Ways that don't condemn you to a life of regret. – Why do you even care? – I love you.

The words were out before you realized it, but even if you could, you wouldn't take them back. She needed to know. Her eyes snapped back to you, wide open, as she pressed her hand to her mouth. The tears kept streaming down her cheeks. In the silent room, you could hear the muffled sob that she was trying to hide.

– I cannot bear to watch you marry him seeing how unhappy it makes you. Her hand left her face, coming down to grip yours in a bruising hold. You could see her lips quivering as she struggled for words.

– I wish I had known...I couldn't dare to hope... – Hope for what? – My feelings to be returned.

Her voice was the faintest of whispers, but it struck you with the force of a thunderclap. You were still reeling from it when her lips were on yours, soft as you had always imagined them, but almost timid in their movements against your mouth. You kissed back, your tongue running against her mouth, tasting the saltiness of her tears before she allowed you entry, her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in even more, her movements now almost desperate. As if she wanted to commit the sensation to memory.

You pulled away slightly, whispering against her lips, in a prayer: – Don't marry him. Let's go back to Nevermore, regroup there. We'll find another way. We can make it work.

Her hand fell away from your nape, and she straightened up, putting distance between the two of you. You could see the pain, raw on your face, and you knew what she was about to say before her lips moved.

– I... We can't, I’m sorry. I… Screams coming from the assembled people outside interrupted whatever else she had been about to say, but her answer had been clear already. She would choose unhappiness with someone else, even if she returned your feelings. You had lost your only chance. You could feel your heart breaking all over again, even harder now that you'd allowed yourself to hope for a handful of seconds, for the time of a kiss. You stood up, feeling unbalanced on your own two feet. The terrified screams weren't stopping, echoing the despair you were feeling.

Larissa went to the window, trying without much success to understand what was going on, leaving you with your pain. As she made to move towards the door, you stopped her with a hand on her arm.

– Wait here, I'll go check. Wouldn't want your future husband to see you before the ceremony, right? That would be bad luck. – You didn’t feel guilty at the bitterness in your tone, but it pained you to see her physically recoil hearing it, as if stung.

You opened the door, eyes scanning the garden where the wedding was supposed to take place. You had left it an idyllic set-up of white flowers and chatting guests with soothing live music coming from a string quartet in the far-out corner, and in the small lapse of time you had spent indoors, it had turned into chaos. The chairs had been thrown each and every way, there were people running and screaming, the decorations flung on the floor, or hanging sideways from their original places. Where the band once stood, dark, acrid smoke was rising, tainting the clear morning air. And in the middle of it all, a horribly familiar, bulbous shape, flinging its claws around.

– Well, it seems that young Mr. Galpin has heard of his father remarrying and he’s not happy about it.

– WHAT?

– You stay here, Larissa. Stay safe. I’ll go help out.

You had learned your lesson from last year’s near-disaster. That morning you had thought about leaving your trusted taser gun home (who brings one to a wedding?), but you had felt naked without its comforting weight in your pocket and had decided to hold onto it.

You made your way towards the beast, weaving your way through fleeing people, upturned chairs and fallen debris. The smoke stung your eyes, but you could still clearly see the groom-to-be trying to talk to the Hyde while still aiming his gun at the beast. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the Hyde was slowly getting closer to him, leaving a trace of destruction, forcing the sheriff to scramble back, behind the altar. Luckily this allowed you to arrive close enough to the both of them without the Hyde noticing you. Quickly, you took the safety away from your stun gun, and fired it to its muscular back, hoping it would spasm and lock up, incapacitating your enemy.

You weren’t so lucky.

It looked like the shock hadn’t affected the monster in the least, except for making it even angrier, and alerting it to your presence. It turned towards you, its horrifying face contorted into a growl, its arm tangling up in the thin metal wires that connected the darts to your gun. You held onto your weapon, delivering another shock: it seemed to at least cause the beast more pain than it did the first time, if the loud yelp that left its mouth was any indication. However, its flailing movements to get rid of the darts caused it to yank with inhuman strength on the cables, sending you careening through the small distance that separated you, and crashing against the monster’s chest, smacking your heads together.

It felt like hitting a brick wall. Pain bloomed in your forehead, and your vision swam, tunneling on the bulbous, horrible eyes in front of you. Everything felt like it was running in slow motion. For an interminable second, both you and the monster reeled from the hit, unable to make sense of what had just happened, and looking at each other in the eyes unblinkingly like a pair of lovestruck teenagers. Then the Hyde roared in your face, and as its fetid breath hit your face, you felt a pang of sorrow at the thought that its fangs would probably be the last thing you’d see in this life.

You blinked.

The gunshot rang in the suddenly silent garden. Was it silent? It felt silent, but you thought you could still hear some far away screaming. It almost felt like it was your name being called. How ridiculous. Why would anyone scream your name? You turned towards the sound, seeing Larissa, still clad in her wedding gown, a firearm clutched into her shaking hands.

Even then, she looked beautiful. How was that even possible?, you asked yourself as the Hyde collapsed on its shattered knee, taking you down with it. You fell on top of him as he slowly returned to his human form, unconscious due to the pain. The horribly disfigured face morphed back to the well-known one of young Tyler, who had prepared your coffee for years before trying to kill you and all of your students. Even seeing the change first-hand it was still difficult to think he and the beast were inhabiting the same body. You kept staring as the bulbous, grey skin turned back to its human, supple state, the muscles shrank, and the claws retracted back into his fingertips, pulling out from where they were plunged into your abdomen.

Oh.

You rolled on the side, looking at the puncture wounds in a sort of dream-like, detached way. The blood was only now welling up, soaking through your shirt, red blooming bright on the light cloth like a giant flower.

You heard your name again, this time as if coming from even further away. Hands were grabbing your shoulders, and you slowly looked up into Larissa’s beautiful eyes. Her lips were moving, but no sound was reaching your ears. How weird. Your lids were growing heavier, but you fought against it. You wanted to keep looking at her - she was so beautiful, even with tears once again streaming down her face. You were lucky that your feelings were returned, even if she was about to marry someone else. To have any place in the heart of such a woman was already a blessing.

You raised a hand to her cheek, to wipe away her tears, but each movement felt as if you were struggling against quicksand. You only managed to brush against her skin before your arm fell limply back to your side . She was now pressing both of her hands on your abdomen, your blood painting a stark contrast on the immaculate white of her wedding gown. It would take a lot of effort to take out the stain you thought. Was that the reason for the desperation on her face as she looked at you?

Even with that, her face is a much better last thing to see, you thought as you slipped into darkness.

*

Maybe it would have been better to stay dead. Or whatever you had been, you mused, as you unhappily focused your bleary eyes on the scene in front of you. Or perhaps you had died and for all of your not believing in it, you had ended up in hell itself. Probably kissing a soon-to-be-bride and trying to convince her to ditch her fiancé on the altar was some sort of sin. That would explain your own damnation.

You blinked, hoping the scene would change somehow, but it was still the same: you were lying on a bed, in an unfamiliar, too-white room. The sun was streaming in from the window to the side, illuminating a collection of flower vases on the rickety table in front of it. And near the foot of your bed, impossible not to see, a tall figure who couldn’t be anyone else but the last woman you had seen, the woman that still had your heart, whether you were actually dead or still in the realm of the living. Larissa.

Larissa, her shoulder shaking, her face hidden from view, wrapped as she was into the comforting hug of a grave-faced Sheriff Galpin. Her fiancé. Maybe her husband, now. Your heart hurt as if it was still alive, but that was probably your personal torment in hell: being forced to watch them for all of eternity. Unable to look away, unable to reach out. You had never cared for the salvation of your soul until now.

You wondered if you could close your eyes, and were surprised to find out that you could. As darkness enveloped you once again, you hoped never to see the light again.

But you did, and this time the scene had changed. Larissa was alone, sitting on a chair beside your bed. As if through a dream, you could feel the warmth of her hand on yours, and you could smell her perfume hanging in the air around you. You studied her, wondering what today’s torment would be. She was beautiful, as always, even if her face was tired, her eyes listless as they stared at your joined hands.

Maybe…maybe this wasn’t hell after all.

You tried hard to command your hand to slightly squeeze hers, to get her attention, to show both her and yourself that you were awake, that you were alive. It felt like you were trying to move a boulder with your thoughts alone. You tried again and again, straining against the block inside your head. As you were almost about to give up, you felt the tiniest twitch of your fingers, and you thought you felt a soft gasp coming from her lips, but your vision had already turned black once again.

*

Day after day, you would wake up, and always find Larissa by your side, be it night or day, typing away at her laptop, lost in thought, or asleep. Sometimes Sheriff Galpin would be there too, talking to her in hushed tones, or reading the paper in the other chair. You pretended to be asleep when he was there, trying to ignore the tightening of your chest at the two of them together.

You did spend a lot of time sleeping, anyways. Each small movement was a struggle that wiped you out. It took what felt like ages to be able to talk, and even then the first time you had barely managed to croak out a broken Hi and you had seen Larissa’s eyes fill with tears as she smiled at you. You had looked away, unwilling to see the pity you were sure to find there. You felt so useless.

*

– How long…was I out for?

Your voice still had a raspy, weird quality to it, but you were now able to have small conversations, that made you feel somewhat more human.

– It’s been five weeks as of yesterday. – You could see she was trying to act nonchalant about it, probably to avoid upsetting you.

– …Damn.  – You managed to choke out. Whatever you had expected, that was not it. Had it really been that long? Five weeks was a long time to be stuck in a hospital. In five weeks a lot could change, especially in a place such as Nevermore. And how much longer would it take for you to go back to your life? If that was even in the cards? Would you be able to talk long enough to teach? To go through a day without sleeping for most of it?

– Quite. – You counted the small upturn of Larissa’s mouth at your eloquent assessment of the situation as a victory. She looked like she hadn’t had a lot of reasons to smile in the last period. She looked gaunt, tired. Having to be here by your side on top of everything else was probably putting a strain on her.

– I’m sorry.

– What for?

– For all the trouble. Having your wedding ruined, and having to care for sick teacher on top of finding a substitute… I’m sorry to have piled more stress on you.  

– You must be joking. That was the least of my problems. When I saw you there, all covered in blood I thought… God, I thought… – she passed a hand on her face, as if afraid to finish her sentence. You took pity on her and spoke the words she didn’t want to.

– You thought I was dying.

– Yes. And I wouldn’t have been able to forgive me if you did. You…

– I was stupid. I was trying to help, and made… a bigger mess, as always. – You shrugged in a self-deprecating manner. Why on Earth you thought that a taser gun would work against a Hyde, one of the most dangerous outcast types known to humankind, was still a mystery. Such an idiot. And your idiocy almost costed you your life.

–  Don’t you dare to say that! –  She grabbed your hand, her eyes piercing yours with an intensity you had never seen in those beautiful blue gems. – If it hadn’t been for you, Donovan and possibly other people would probably be dead. What you did was heroic.

Of course she was grateful to you for saving the sheriff’s life. The man she had chosen even if she wasn’t in love with him. Was this something else that had changed in these five weeks? Had the dramatic experience brought the two closer together? Maybe they had developed those feelings that were missing from their relationship. Maybe having you out of the picture had given Larissa the peace of mind to move on.

Like you would have to do, eventually. No matter how painful it was, she would never be anything more than your boss and possibly a friend to you. Close, but always out of reach. You tried to change the subject, swallowing around the knot in your throat, and pretending that your difficulty with talking came from your accident and not from the gaping hole in your chest where your heart once was.

– Well, I guess…congratulations are in order, right?

– What do you mean?

– The wedding. I’m guessing you two… tied the knot as I was out of it. Hopefully it was… less eventful than the last time, eh, Mrs. Galpin?

It hurt. It hurt to call her that, it hurt to think of how she had clung to the sheriff’s smaller frame the first time you had woken up. It hurt just to think of them together, Jericho’s most recent couple, bound in a marriage of convenience.

– No, there…there was no marriage. We called it off.

– Oh. I see. I’ll try …not to die the next time then. Since you… waited for me to wake back up and all. – Your joke fell flat, as you imagined what a torture it would be to once again see Larissa in a wedding dress, to see her walk down the aisle, exchange her vows, and see her kiss her groom knowing how those lips had felt on yours in that one stolen kiss.

– There will be no next time. Donovan and I - we had a lot of time to talk through things. We decided this would make us both miserable. We, we broke the engagement.

– …

Try as you might, you couldn’t find anything to answer to that. You were fighting too hard to squash the sudden hope that had blossomed in your chest at that announcement. That didn’t mean anything, you tried to tell yourself. It didn’t have anything to do with you, or the kiss you had shared. She had probably just realized how dull living with Sheriff Galpin would be, or something like that.

– Aren’t you going to say anything? – Were you imagining it or had Larissa’s face just dropped slightly, were you imagining it or was there disappointment tinging her tone?

– I…I’m not sure what you want me…to say, Larissa.

She bit her lip, and lowered her eyes to where her hand was still holding yours over the hospital bedsheet. When she spoke, her voice was soft and so warm with feeling it almost took your breath away.

– When you were bleeding out, all I could think of was that I had just found the love of my life, and I had been so bloody stupid to let you go. Please, give me one chance, I prayed. I don’t even believe in a higher Being, but I was praying all the time you were unconscious. Once chance and I am going to do my best to cherish the fact that my feelings are returned. –

She snapped her eyes back to meet yours, and if her voice was full of feelings, it was nothing compared to what her eyes were showing you: – I love you. I have been for quite some time, and yet struggled with accepting it. But now I do, and I realized that no matter what my head was trying to do, my heart already belonged to you. And it is yours if…if you’d like it.

You squeezed her hand and held her gaze, trying to put into words how her words had made your heart whole again, how full and how happy your chest felt now. How hope and love were now vibrating in the air around you, composing a symphony that no human ear could ever comprehend.

In the end the only words you could squeeze out were: – I’d…love to.

But it seemed that she had understood all the other words you hadn’t said, because she squeezed your hand as well, leaning towards you until your lips met into a kiss full of promises and reciprocal love.

Liked it? You can find more of my writings on my fanfiction masterlist! 

[katyspersonal]

Alright, go crazy, go stupid ✌️

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

For the Bloodborne girl cast!

uhhh, Maria, Doll, Annalise, Henriett, Gratia, Queen Yharnam, Ebrietas, Rom, Flora, Kos, Arianna, Adella, Eileen, white church doctor, black church doctor, Fausefka, Iosefka, Old Lady lol, Viola, Gascoigne’s daughters, Mergo’s Wet Nurse, Vicar Amelia, Witches of Hemwick, uhhhhhhh, Yurie, Bell Women, Cainhurst portrait women, Dores, Adeline,…..uhhhh….well….dammit if I have forgotten someone very important then I apologize to all women.

(Ask from this ( x ) meme) Ohhhh boy, look who heard out my wish to discuss the design features!! Thank you very much!

48) What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

ATTENTION: for some of these characters I might use my own headcanons on their appearances as an answer!

Maria and Doll: their lovely super pale eyelashes! As usual, common Fromsoft W putting effort into a detail that is hard to notice by normal means!

As for the distinct design elements (which in their case their clothes), for Maria I love the cute smaller broches by either side of her main one, and for the Doll I love her cute floral-patterned gloves!

Annalise: I love her big forehead. I am worried that I miss out this feature on accident sometimes in my drawings of her (just need more art skill), but I am mindful about it!

Henriett: I love that she either 1) is implied to wear a makeup (gotta stay class no matter what) or 2) just has naturally different color for brows and eyelashes? Common Fromsoft W on details no sane person would detect yet AGAIN. Close second is her awesome top hat that no one wears like her.

Gratia: I love her red hair so much. She has the most red hair in the setting. I love this so much. Hers is more red than Cainhurst red, even.

(From this ( x ) page with datamined corpse models, some of the following ones will also be from here)

Queen Yharnam: This is exclusive for her pregnant/boss variant, the one we interact with peacefully doesn't have them. But I love cute rose-themed decorations around her gown! Adorable detail!

Ebrietas: Her big anime girl green eyes, what else I can say? x) The very distinct feature, and they look like there are green cosmic nebulas shining inside them!

Rom: This is hard to choose because this IS the perfect female body, I think her existence alone should prove how useless beauty standards are dhfsdh I will never be her 😔 Her adorable tails is the close second, but I love that she is a forest. What grows on her back is more resembling of tree branches with glowing buds! This is not lumenweed, this is lumenWOOD! XD

Flora: The small wings. Of the 'skinny' type and not birdlike type, same as Ebrietas' and celestial children, but kinda damaged, or undeveloped? These wings tell a story. Feels similar to how Amygdalae have just lump of flesh in the place of wings, but their Kin, Gardens of Eyes, do have beautiful butterfly wings! It feels like a theme of needing humanity (?) to be truly fulfilled. Jealous Moon, eh?

Kos: I love her fins, especially the fin on her back! Well, it doesn't look very fin-like anymore, and there is clearly better look at it on the concept art! Just...... fish

Arianna: I love her purple eyes! Really stands out! I was really excited to find out she had such unusual feature!

Adella: Similarly to Henriett, I love how her brows and eyelashes color has a contrast with her hair color! Hers is paler!

Eileen: The only truly notable feature about her design is her unique mask, as Bloody Crow wears the same garb, and I feel like it won't really say anything.. The girl doesn't even have canon face data! So let me pull my own out uhhh..

I am quite happy with her beak! x) I needed the resemblance of 'crow' in her visual design, you don't understand! My initial idea for her design, though, was making her blonde in earlier life and then have silver, basically white hair in her old age, while still having skin dark because contrast is so good. It would be to symbolise a change, from "sunshine" to "moonlight".. I got discouraged when I was told it was 'unrealistic' feature for dark skinned people (and should not have listened, because Bloodborne already has two characters canonically who are blondes with dark skin). If I ever backtrack on that idea for her, consider the beautiful white hair and how it contrasts to be the answer!

White Church Doctor: In this case I will go for the obvious answer. This is her cute mole! I am so happy when other people notice it too!! When someone draws this character and does feature the mole, I am so happy ;-;

Black Church Doctor: I love the shape of her eyes! Interestingly though, she uses the same sliders as female preset hunter (in initial character creation), and her eyes are green like Brador's and have a similar shape, also her eyelashes are same color as his. Both Brador and Paleblood Hunter come from the same foreign land as their clothes lore suggest, so... same country? Or even relation to Brador? Hello....?

Fauxsefka and Iosefka: Eyelashes. Eyelashes. They use the especially long variant of eyelashes. I always enjoy drawing them, especially Fauxsefka's!

Lonely Old Dear: This is the hardest one yet, because there is nothing particular to point out. There are no other distinct old female characters we are shown in the game, nor her outfit is unique as there are many corpses in this outfit in Yahar'gul (and one in the woods). I do like the cute setting-appropriate hat, but I think a more fair one is to say that they bothered showing her eyes condition!

Viola: I love her red brooch! ...that we never do see on her in the game. But I think it is a really good detail for her design, and the best color to contrast with both her hair and clothes!

Older Daughter: This is an interpretation liberty, since this can and likely is a blood drop, but I like to think she has a spot on her forehead!

Younger daughter: Another case where I gotta use my own design! I like how her appearance mixes that of both parents rather than resembling one or another x) Gascoigne used to have auburn hair and green eyes, so hers mix those colors with Viola's blonde hair and blue eyes!

Mergo's Wet Nurse: Uhhhhh everything?? She is so incredibly stylish? fdsjfdshfd I fucking LOVE the absurd amount of heavily detalized trinkets all over her body! Get it.... because crows love shinies...... haha....

(Take a closer look at all her glory in wiki's gallery ( x ))

Amelia: Her very tiny tail. :3

Witches of Hemwick 1 and 2: The fact that!!!!! the eyes are all different colors??? How sick is this??? Look at this! Some also have iris whitening, same as what happened with Djura's eyes, and others have fully enlargened pupil!

Witch of Hemwick 3: Okay, you absolutely saw this one coming lol. I love how wide is her nasal bridge! Very distinct feature! (Also coming clear with my skill issue, as I do not give a justice to her eyes; in reality they're smaller and located wider from each other!)

Yurie: I really like her lips shape, actually! Very full, very smoochable.

Bell-Ringing Women: I love the decoration circling around their cape! This really adds to the design, it looks so much better this way than if it was just plain cape as is!

Cainhurst portrait women: Damn, they are all so beautiful! I guess as for Bell-Ringer resembling one, the previous point applies! Though she looks like she could be mother of Iosefka and Fauxsefka? And the knight woman has a very distinct nose shape! With Annalise's mother (I am not sure who else would wear a crown on portrait whereas not being Annalise..), I of course love how long her neck is x) Her posture is so regal, and this emphasises it!

Similar feature shared with the one who wears silver variant of the Noble Dress (basically Arianna's dress, and even identical shoes, but a bit more detailed in a couple of places). I'm gonna say though, I do love the silver variant more than burgundy one, especially with Forsaken Castle Ghosts whose hair became platinum! And the old lady has not only the necklaces, but also earrings and the bracelet which are quite modest and harder to see, but they are here! I love this attention to small details!

Dores: As iconic as her wearing a scalp of Pthumerian face like a mask is, but my favourite bit is, actually, the ungodly amount of tools dangling from her belt! My Mico in his Research Hall surgeon era can only dream about the same level of unsettling x)

Adeline: Again, she has the appearance of a Research Hall patient with the exception of larger amount of belts (she is feral!) and unique bandana around her neck! It feels unfair to point out either of these, because... yeah, sure. They just make her distinct. So I'll refer to my version of her and say that I love her hair buns and want to squeeze them every time I draw her. x) The bandana IS precious, though!

______________________

Okay that was WILD, thank you for letting me go mad dfhahds You HAVE forgotten Hemwick Gravewomen, Evil Labyrinth Spirits, Snail/Slug Women, Mergo's Chief Attendants and female Beast Patients though XD I've met Tumblr images limit so I have to combine into one image.

But, Hemwick Gravewomen have strangely elongated skulls, and I love this bit. Considering the bandage over their forehead, perhaps, they've found their own way to place eyes on their brain? With statue behind Memory Altar and in the dungeons featuring a stitch over forehead and Rune Tool being found in Hemwick, would not be surprising. And with Evil Labyrinth Spirits, I guess I love the cool feature that is only in the concept art, but didn't make it into the actual model?? The evil red spirits erupting from her belly area are so badass??

With Slug Women, I guess the only thing I can tell is which variant I like more... And it is the shell one, of course x) Or simply red eyes with female Beast Patients! But with Chief Attendants, the plate on their bellies features upturned wings, and this is my favourite detail! They could represent wings of Wet Nurse or Flora! I love the mystery hidden on the plain sight so much!! Why could not Bloodborne give us a way to farm armour from mobs so we could read the description that would explain... ;-;

Okay, now my brain is OFFICIALLY fried (in a good way), and this post definitely will help me as a good self-reference! This is, however, now one of my favourite posts by myself, because.. many women.

[going-dead]

Not Quite Human

My Holiday truce gift @wingedflight

Read on A03: here

I used the main prompt of Grey ghost identity reveal, with a bit of the outsider POV of danny being strange mixed in there.

Valerie did her best to suppress a scowl as she tracked Paulina in the mirror as the other girl walked into the bathroom. Her hopes of Paulina just having to use the bathroom or fix her appearance were quickly dashed as she saddled up next to Valerie. Maybe she could just pretend she didn’t notice her. She kept her gaze down and turned off the sink before turning towards the door to leave. It was the end of the day, she wouldn’t have a chance to stop Valerie again at least until Monday.

“Don’t leave just yet Val.” Paulina instructed. She didn’t even give Valerie the dignity of looking at her as she talked. Instead, she kept her eyes to her reflection, adjusting her hair. 

Valerie stopped mid-step, it was better to just get whatever she wanted to talk about over with. Otherwise, it would become a common occurrence until she complied. “Don’t call me Val, only my friends get to do that. What do you want Paulina, I thought you couldn’t be seen with a ‘loser’ like me?”

“That’s why we’re in the bathroom, it doesn’t count. And I’m here to talk to you as your friend.” Paulina’s reflection smiled. “You need to drop the Fenton creep.”

That caused Valerie to turn fully towards Paulina. “Excuse me? What gives you any right to judge who I hang out around? Let alone talk about him like that.”

“I heard your dad might be getting his job back.” Her eyes flicked towards Valerie.

“What?” It was the first time Valerie was hearing anything about that. She doubted her dad would keep something like that from her.

“Well, my dad heard it and he told me at least. But if he does end up getting that job back you need to start regrouping your image sooner than later if you want back into our group. Which leads us back to you dropping the creep.” Paulina explained.

Valerie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What makes you think I even want to be friends with you after you all threw me out like last year's fashion line? And Danny’s not a creep. Unlike you, he doesn’t pretend to be nice.”

Paulina laughed. “I know they say love is blind but, really? Wow. You can’t say you don’t see it. He’s just…wrong. Our town is routinely attacked by ghosts and somehow he is the one who acts the least like an actual person.”

Valerie didn't grace her with an answer. She finished drying her hands and stormed out the bathroom. She walked down the halls before stopping and taking a deep breath before rounding the corner where Danny and his friends would be waiting. The three of them were standing around Danny’s locker as he put his textbooks away. They had yet to notice her as she approached them.

“No I literally can’t find any lead on the group trying to do it. At this point I’m going to have to scour the Realms and hope I stumble across them. All I know is that she’s like volcanic related or something.” Danny slammed his locker.

“Guess you have your weekend plans then, need any help?” Tucker asked.

Danny shook his head. “No. Me and Val already have weekend plans, and I am not cancelling them again. It can wait two days.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Valerie asked as she leaned against Danny’s back. He always ran so cold, she once joked corpses were warmer than he was. She only told the joke once however, it put him in a weird mood the rest of the day. But it was a familiar comfort, especially after the conversation she had with Paulina. 

Danny jumped, apparently just realizing she was there. “Oh, hey Val. Nothing, important.”

“Aw come on, Sam?” ValIerie asked turning to Sam.

Sam just shook her head with a sigh. “There’s a new Doomed event starting this weekend. The main boss is hidden though so players have to find it.” 

“Oh I see.” Valerie didn’t know the first thing about those video games to be honest. Danny had tried multiple times to show her but she felt like she understood even less than when the explanation started. But he enjoyed them so she’d listen to him talk about them even if she didn’t understand a single thing about them. But she appreciated him putting off what seemed like a big thing in the game to spend time with her.

“We are still on for this weekend though, right?” Danny asked with wide eyes aimed towards Valerie. 

She couldn’t say no to those eyes even if she wanted to. Not that she wanted to of course. They’d been trying to plan spending a weekend together for months now. It didn’t help that she kept having to make excuses to go and take care of a ghost attack. But she was determined for this weekend to work out. She’d even let go of her grudge, temporarily of course, and let the ghost boy deal with any ghosts that appeared. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Valerie told him giving him a quick kiss.

“Way to rub it in our single faces.” Tucker pouted.

“Speak for yourself, I don’t want to see it in general. Teenage hormones, bleh.” Sam shook her head.

“Not all of can be ethereal romanticless goths Sam. Some of us are human.” Tucker elbowed her.

“Well at least one of us is, and you should try it sometimes it’s neat.” Sam smiled.

“Haha very funny you two.” Danny deadpanned. “See you tomorrow Val!”

“Why don’t I walk you home?” Valerie offered.

“Are you sure? It’s pretty icy out and you live pretty far away to walk.”

Valerie waved him off. “I have work. I’d rather walk you home safely than just sit in the break room until my shift starts.” Not to mention she’d also be patrolling late due to not doing it at all that coming weekend. 

“My hero, walking me home.” Danny placed a hand to his chest as the two of them made their way outside.

“You know it.” Valerie shivered as a blast of cold air hit her.

As they walked Danny kept having to slow down to give Valerie time to catch up. She had no clue how he was walking at a normal pace without slipping on the ice, if she didn’t know any better she would say it was like he was gliding across the ice as he walked. 

Now that she thought about it more Danny’s motor skills seemed to fluctuate quite a bit. At times, he’d trip over his own feet and was being banned from the science lab for the third time that month. Other times, he moved so fluidly, like when he was weaving in and out of the crowded halls, that she’d swear it was somehow choreographed. She was reading too much into things. That talk with Paulina was messing with her head. No way was she letting some stupid comments effect this weekend.

Thankfully the rest of the day went by quietly. She went straight from her shift at the Nasty Burger, to patrol, then straight home. She only caught glimpses of the ghost boy, seemed like he finally wisened up and learned to stay away from her. About time. 

“Dad, I’m home!” She called out into the apartment as she kicked her shoes off. 

“Oh, good! How was work?” Her dad poked his head out of his bedroom.

Valerie shrugged. “It was work. People feeling entitled as if they’re getting food from a five-star restaurant and not a crapy fast food joint.”

Her dad made his way to the living room and took a seat on the couch, he patted the spot next to him. “On the topic of work, there’s something I would like to tell you.” Valerie hesitantly sat down next to him. Last time he had to talk to her about work was when he had to tell her he was demoted and they’d have to move out of their house. “What’s going on? I can pick up more hours at work if I need to.”

Her dad shook his head. “No that’s not needed. Not mention you work so much as is.”

That made her feel guilty, a lot of the hours he thought she was working was just a cover for ghost hunting. “Then what did you want to talk about?” “Well, the head of the security team and I have been working on this for a while now and we were able to finally pitch it to the boss. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure because I didn’t want to get your hopes up just to disappoint you. But Axion Labs has now officially partnered up with Fenton Works to create security systems, effective against both humans and ghosts. Which includes me getting my old job back, as well as an increase of pay from what I was being paid before. But you can’t tell anyone yet, it hasn’t been announced yet.” He explained.

So Paulina was right after all. It was good news, great news even but Valerie couldn’t help but frown. She should have known better than to doubt Paulina in that regard. She had always somehow known things before anyone else, and tended to be correct in her assumptions in what was going on around the school. That didn’t mean she was right about Danny though. She probably just thought it made her look bad by proximity because she used to be friends with Valerie, or something. 

“Is everything alright?” Her dad asked. 

Valerie realized she forgot to respond to him and had just been sitting in silence. “No! I mean yes! Everything’s fine, that’s great news dad!”

“You should be able to quit that job of yours.” He smiled.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I think it’s a good way for me to… practice responsibility. I wouldn’t want to quit just yet.” Valerie didn’t want to lose her cover for ghost hunting. Even if it did mean she had to continue working at the Nasty Burger. 

“That’s good to hear that you think so. It’s late though, so I won't hold you from sleep any longer. Goodnight, I love you.” He hugged her.

“I love you too dad.” She hugged him back before heading to her room. 

“Your coffee.” Danny handed her a cup of coffee that had steam coming out of the lid. He slid the seat opposing her own. They were starting off their weekend together with a coffee date. It was a nice cozy coffee shop that had just opened up a week ago. Or well it re-opened a week ago after the building was demolished in a ghost attack a few months back. 

“I still can’t understand how you can drink ice coffee in this weather.” Valerie shook her head.

“It’s good, freezing temperature be damned. Plus we’re inside, the weather is outside.” Danny pointed out as he took a drink of his coffee.

“I suppose so-Ah hot!” Valerie quickly put her own cup down and put a hand to her mouth. She was pretty sure she’d just burned her tongue. 

“Here let me see.” Danny grabbed her coffee and took a small sip .of it before shrugging and handing it back. “Feels fine to me.”

Valerie looked at the offending drink with caution before taking it back and hesitantly taking a sip of it. “It’s cooled down? How?”

“Like you said it’s cold out. Probably just cooled it down a bit.” 

Valerie had trouble believing that. Especially from the person who had just pointed out that the weather was not affecting them inside the shop. But it wasn’t like she had any other logical explanation. “Yeah, probably…”

Danny didn’t seem to notice her uncertainty. No matter how much she loved him, she could admit he could be oblivious at times. It was one of the things that made him endearing. It made her glad he didn’t take after his parents when it came to ghost hunting. With his lack of athleticism and obliviousness he would end up a ghost himself. But he had her, so he’d never have to worry about things like that.

“Are you doing okay by the way Danny? You’ve seemed pretty tired lately.” She would have brought it up sooner, but she was so busy herself with school, work, and ghost hunting, that she would have sounded pretty hypocritical if she had said it when her eye bags matched his. Thankfully she got enough sleep the night prior.

“Don’t worry about it, just haven't been getting enough sleep lately.” Danny smiled.

“Oh? Why not? Anything I can help with?” She swore if it was Dash causing him problems again she’d throw the jock into next week.

Danny honestly looked like he was considering it before shaking his head. “Just a research project.”

“I don’t remember anything being assigned?” If she missed another big project she was doomed. Hopefully she had enough time to pull something together.

“No, nothing for school. Just a personal one so to speak. I’ve just come to a dead end at the moment.”

“That sounds fun, what’s it about?”

“Ghost cults.”

“Oh. Well if you can think of anyway I can help let me know, yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny grabbed them both a second cup of coffee to go before they left. He even took a sip of hers to make sure this one was cool enough to drink. As they stepped outside Valarie was glad the coffee was cooled down enough as the cold hit her face. 

They were heading to Danny’s house next to binge-watch a bunch of cheesy rom-com’s. Though getting there seemed like it was going to be a problem. The road and sidewalk on the quickest route to his house were blocked by a bunch of rubble scattered around. It was clear by the splatters of ectoplasm on the rubble that it was from a ghost attack. 

She didn’t remember the road blockage when she walked Danny home the day prior so it had to have happened after that. She also didn’t remember fighting a ghost in this part of the city so it must have been one of Phantom’s fights.

Not surprising with how much property damage there was. “Why didn’t you say the road was blocked?”

“I totally forgot.” Danny facepalmed.

“You walked to the coffee shop this way didn’t you?” Valerie didn’t see how he could have missed it.

“Walked this way? Yeah, totally, I was just distracted I guess. We can just climb over it, it’s fine. You shouldn’t be out in the cold longer than needed and back tracking will add another fifteen minutes outside.” Danny had already started heading towards the rubble strewn street.

“Danny wait up, that’s so unsafe for you! Especially with the ice.” Valerie called after him. He was determined apparently and didn’t listen to her warning, meaning she had no choice but to follow. 

Climbing around rubble wasn’t easy on a good day, let alone when it was covered in ice and snow. By the time they reached the other side Valerie was out of breath. Danny surely would need to stop to take a moment to catch his breath if Valerie was having so much trouble. She looked over at him only to find him looking perfectly fine. The rise and fall of his chest was basically unnoticeable. 

In fact, it was completely unnoticeable, almost as if he wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t even see his breath fog in the cold. Which was impossible, if the trek made Valerie short of breath Danny should have been struggling at least a bit. 

Danny seemed to notice her staring. “What?”

Valerie took one more breath before speaking. “How are you not out of breath?”

Then Danny took a deep breath, as if he was remembering he was supposed to be breathing. “I’ve been doing cardio with my mom.”

Valerie decided to drop it. The rest of the walk and day was uneventful. It was dark by the time Valerie declared she should get going home. 

“We’re still planning on tomorrow too right?” Danny asked.

“Of course we are. You better not try to get out of it.” Valerie joked, jabbing his chest.

Danny opened his front door with a laugh as they stepped out into the cold together. “Never. I’ll meet you at your apartment.” Danny went to turn back into the house before pausing. “Oh, and tell your dad congrats on the promotion for me.”

 “How’d you know about that?” Valerie stopped. She had only learned about it the night prior, and even if Paulina was spreading the information around, Danny’s social circle would have been the last to find out from her. 

“Axion is partnering with my parents.” Danny reminded her, pointing up at the giant glowing Fenton Works sign. 

“Oh yeah.” Valerie felt bad. It felt like ever since that conversation with Paulina she kept doubting things about Danny. She shouldn't let Paulina’s words get into her head, but the seed of doubt was certainly planted. And a lot of the things Danny did that day only watered it more. There was no actual reason for her to doubt Danny. “See you tomorrow, love you!”

“Love you too!” Danny waved her off. Valerie knew she must have been seeing things at that point. Because she could have sworn his eyes were reflecting in the dark of the night, almost glowing. 

She was just out of it today, tomorrow everything would go back to normal. But in the meantime she needed to do at least a short patrol before heading back home. She hadn’t heard of a ghost attack all day or so far into the night and it was strange. Not even just a smaller ghost.

Her good mood from her date was quickly soured as Phantom appeared in her sights just minutes after she started patrolling. Even worse he seemed to be in a good mood. “I thought we agreed to patrol separate areas.”

Phantom looked down at the ground below them before looking back up at her. “Oh hey? But yeah,this is the area I patrol?”

Valerie wouldn’t call it a truce what they had. More of a tentative agreement not to attack each other as long as they left each other alone. It started around the time she and Danny had started dating, it did end up giving her more time for school and other things. Which was the only reason she agreed to it. He was unfortunately right though. They were currently above the area they agreed he’d have patrol in. Why he wanted to be so close to Fenton Works was anyone's guess, maybe because that was where the ghost portal was. “So it is. I was just passing through.”

Phantom shrugged like he didn’t care. “No problem, as long as you don’t shoot me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t a suggestion. You seem to be in a worse mood than normal around me, something happen?”

“Nothing you’d understand. Or that I’d even want to tell you.” She didn’t need to talk to a ghost of all things about her dating worries.

“Well if I don’t understand it I’d be the perfect person to tell it to.” He had a point. Sadly enough. She couldn’t talk to Danny about it, and the closest other people she could call friends were Sam and Tucker and they were Danny’s friends first and foremost. “Just relationship problems. But I’m pretty sure I’m just overexaggerating things.”

If Valerie didn’t know any better she would have said Phantom looked worried. “Oh? What sort of problems?”

Valerie shook her head. Maybe she was just losing it, all the things about Danny probably had a perfectly rational explanation but she was too far gone to think of any. She couldn’t even think of an irrational explanation was the problem. Nothing seemed to add up. 

How could he struggle in gym class just the day prior and then climb over a bunch of rubble with no issue. Not even with no issue but seemingly not needing to breathe? How could he practically glide across ice as he walked, not even looking down to make sure he didn’t slip. How was he able to somehow cool down her coffee enough to make it drinkable when only seconds prior it burnt her. Was there anything else she just failed to notice? What about his cold skin, and his discomfort every time she brought it up. His constantly fluctuating agility. What about the fact she could have sworn he had bruises but the next day they were gone. 

Every time she brought anything up he seemed to just brush it off. Surely it couldn’t be all in her head.  But what else could it even be?

“Red? Valerie? Hey, you okay? Val!” Phantom was yelling at her.

She snapped out of her thoughts. “What did you just call me?

“Red?”

“No, after that?” ‘Valerie?” Phantom looked her up and down. “Do you want me to fly you home? Are you getting enough sleep, you seem out of it.”

“Well whose fault is that? I have a life and job outside of ghost hunting you know. Not that you’d know about that.” Valerie frowned.

Phantom blinked, opened his mouth before shutting it again. “You won’t have to worry about the job soon enough though at least. With your dad’s new job and all.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“Shi-I mean I overheard it, while I was leaving the Ghost Zone.” Phantom nodded abruptly. “Well I better get going, see ya later.”

“I hope not.” Valerie grumbled. He was right about one thing though, she probably just needed some sleep. She’d give in this time and head home. 

Unfortunately the morning didn’t bring peace of mind. In fact, it did the opposite. Danny never showed up to pick her up from her apartment. She had waited two hours past the time he said he’d be there before deciding to figure up what was going on herself. He wasn’t even responding to her texts. 

She was going to get answers. For everything. Before she was just planning on just letting it be, but he didn’t even have the courtesy to text her to let her know he wasn’t going to show up. 

It took a few good minutes of rapping on the door of Fenton Works for someone to answer, and it wasn’t the person she was looking for. “Hi Valerie, did you need something?” Jazz Fenton asked.

“I need your brother. He didn’t show up for our date, and didn’t even bother to text. Where is he?” Valerie crossed her arms.

Jazzed looked around with a sigh. “Have you tried Tucker’s?”

“No, I assumed he’d be at his house first.”

Jazz just shrugged. “I don’t know where he is either.” “Thanks anyway.” Valerie turned around and headed towards Tucker’s house.

“No clue where he is, is he at his house?” Tucker said.

“No he’s not, that’s why I’m here!” Valerie felt her eye twitch.

“Sam’s maybe?” Tucker offered but Valerie was already walking away towards Sam’s house.

Valerie didn’t have anything against Sam, but she couldn’t help but feel like she had something against Valerie. A feeling that was reaffirmed when she was facing Sam in her doorway.

“Have you seen Danny anywhere today?” Valerie asked.

Sam shook her head. “Nope. Have you looked at Tucker’s or his house?”

“Clearly I looked there first, and yes I checked Tucker’s!” Valerie threw up her arms. 

“Don’t know what to tell you then.” Sam went to close the door, but Valerie put her foot in front of it before she could.

“Do you have something against me?” 

“No, not really.”

“Really because it feels like you do. Are you jealous or something?” Valerie challenged.

Sam laughed before stopping. “Oh you’re serious. No, I’m not jealous of you dating him. I couldn’t care less who he chooses to date. As long as they aren’t hurting him.”

“I’m not hurting him, why would I want to do that?” Hurting him was the last thing she’d ever want to do. 

“Look, I told you I don’t know where he is. If he doesn’t want to be found he won’t be found. He’s good at disappearing.” Sam laughed like she said something funny. 

It took everything within Valerie not to storm off and walk away normally. If no one was going to tell her where Danny was, she’d find him herself. She was very glad the Fenton’s gave her a boo-merang last time she showed interest in their work. It was still faulty, for some reason locking onto Danny more often than ghosts. But that was exactly what she wanted now. 

Getting into her ghost hunting gear she took to the sky following where the boo-merang lead. She was more and more unsure as she went, it took her over the forest outside of Amity. Why would Danny be all the way out here? Especially in the middle of winter. 

Her anger quickly morphed into fear however as she saw giant plumes of smoke floating into the air in the middle of the forest. Right where the boo-merange was heading. She dove into the newly made clearing. There was ash everywhere, she was glad her helmet had a filtering system otherwise she doubted she’d have been able to breath with how thick the smog was. It didn’t help much with the heat, however. 

 “You seem sorta hotheaded, why don’t you cool off?” She heard before two ghosts flew past. Phantom and a ghost she hadn’t encountered before.

The ghost looked pretty feminine, her clothes seemed to be made of pure smoke, and her skin looked like cracked rock. Where there should have been hair on her head there was flowing magma. Or was it lava? She didn’t pay enough attention in science class to remember.

Whatever it was and whoever the ghost was she was clearly dangerous just by the amount of damage done to the surrounding forest. If the attack was in the city the damage would be unfeasible. 

She watched as the two ghosts fought for a minute, not even sure how she’d attack without staying far enough away not to get burnt. She had a feeling her ecto-guns would only do so much. It didn’t help her peace of mind that Danny was still nowhere to be seen. Not only that but Phantom seemed to be treating this fight like it was a game. Cracking jokes and one-liners as he fought the flaming ghost with a smile. Staying just of reach of the other ghosts attacks, ducking away just in time to avoid a giant ball of fire or a swipe of her arms. Almost like he was taunting her. 

Valerie had landed fully at that point. More focused on finding where ever Danny could be than the fight that Phantom, for the most part, seemed to have handled. No matter how much the idea of leaving a fight to him was, getting Danny out of here was more important. It didn’t help that she kept on having to dodge projectiles from the volcanic ghost that missed Phantom. In a strange twist of fate it wasn’t the ghost herself that caught Valerie off guard but a tree that the flames surrounding the area must have cause to fall. She heard a loud creaking sound and looked up just in time to see a tree coming towards her, but not enough time to dodge out of the way.

She must have lost consciousness for a second because the next thing she knew was that she was pinned to the ground her head screaming at her in pain. Or maybe that was her screaming in pain, because it brought on the attention of the two ghosts causing them to both pause and look at her. 

She couldn’t hear it, but Phantom mouthed something that almost looked like her name. She watched helplessly as the other ghost started to make her way towards her. 

Was this really how she died? In the middle of the forest where no one would know to look. She hoped Phantom had enough humanity left to at least let her dad know what happened to her. 

Though looking at him, Phantom had a look on his face Valerie had never seen on him before. Pure rage. 

Which didn’t make sense. Valerie would admit she had done and said some awful things to the ghost boy, and seen even worse done. But nothing that made that look of rage appear on his face. It didn’t make sense that he was mad, let alone mad over her of all people getting hurt. 

The ghost didn’t get the chance to reach Valarie before Phantom slammed into her causing both of them to crash into the ground. Still within sight of Valerie. 

Valerie had fought and seen Phantom fight many times. He always tended to fight differently than other ghosts. But now he seemed human in the way he was attacking. No ecto-blasts or the occasional ice attack in sight. It was all just punches and kicks, he wasn’t even flying anymore as he fought. None of his jokes to be found.

Calling it a fight was almost too generous. What was occurring before Valerie had arrived was a fight. An at least somewhat equal trading of blows. Or even just an attempt of countering. Phantom didn’t give the other ghost a chance one punch after the other over and over not giving her any time to recover before the next hit. It was the last thing Valerie saw before she lost consciousness once more.

As she came to there was a face hovering over her own. Blue eyes and dark messy black hair, with the remnants of the flames behind it almost seemed like he was glowing. “Danny?”

Danny choked out a laugh, or maybe he just inhaled too much smoke. It was more of a laugh of shock. “Yeah, it’s me Val.”

“Wha’are you doing here? Not safe.” Her head hurt. She was no longer pinned down by the tree, apparently. She brought her hand up to her head to be met with Danny’s own hand. She tried to push it away. “Your hand’s cold. Really cold.”

Danny if anything pressed his hand more firmly to her temple. “Yeah, you hit your head pretty bad there. I’m just trying to make it feel a bit better before we get you to a hospital.  Sorry for missing our date by the way.” 

“It’s fine.” Valerie squinted at him, something about him seemed off but she couldn’t place what it was. She reached up towards his face, it was covered in ash. She tried to brush it away but it sort of just smeared, his hair had some in it too, harder to notice since his hair was dark too. She moved her hand to the top of his head and ruffled his hair to get some of it out. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“You’re dirty.” Valerie pointed out still trying to brush the soot out. Weirdly enough his hair seemed to be getting lighter. She grabbed at a smaller section of hair and brushed it off with her fingers. Much to Danny’s protests of her needing to stay still. 

Except, it wasn’t Danny. She was right his hair was getting lighter. He didn’t look like he was glowing, he was glowing. Looking at his clothes revealed a black and white jumpsuit, still recognizable despite being covered in ash. 

Valerie jerked away from Danny’s, or was it Phantom’s, touch. Trying to scramble away from him as best as she could with her injuries. “Val, you need to stay still.” Phantom, Danny, stressed.

“Don’t call that!” Valerie felt dizzy. “I don’t- I don’t understand. Who-what-are you?”

“Fine, I won't call you that. I promise I’ll explain everything. But first we need to get you to the hospital, you’re concussed at best.” He said, reaching towards her. 

She just noticed his hand was glowing blue, frost emanating off of it. “What were you doing to me? Were you trying to kill me?” 

“What? No!” He shook his hand like he was trying to shoo the frost away, his eyes faded into Phantom’s green color. “Like I said, you hit your head, and probably were overheated. I was trying to cool you down and ice your head.”

“How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Because if you don’t, you won’t make it back to Amity by yourself and I’m not going to be the one to break the news to your dad.”

He was right she didn’t have a choice no matter how she felt about it. She let him pick her up and only panicked slightly when they took to the air. True to his word once he was sure she was in a hospital room safely he left her alone after the hospital staff notified her dad as to where she was.

She had time to think in the hospital, too much time to think with too many questions. Danny had ended up texting her the explanation, whether it was because he knew she would want answers sooner than later or because he was too scared to do it in person she wasn’t sure. But she deleted the text after she read through it a second time, no matter how she felt about him after all of this she wouldn’t put him in danger of someone else finding out on accident because of her.  

She did text him back that she understood what he was telling her, but she would need time to think things over. Think everything over. One of the people she arguably hated the most turned out to be loved the most outside of family. It was a concept that took adjusting to, to say the least 

At least it saved her from a total freak out for a different reason. All the weirder things she had started to notice about Danny made a lot more sense now. Her internal conundrum wasn’t helped by the fact that he was clearly trying to help her a lot of the time she noticed the ‘strange’ behaviors. She had at least until she was discharged to figure out her thoughts at least.

Once she was released from the hospital, and a bit longer after that she met up with Phantom, or well Danny in his ghost form she supposed, while he was doing a patrol. He kept looking down at her ecto-gun like she was going to pull it on him at any moment. Which was a fair worry she supposed, even if it made her sad to think about.

“I’m not going to shoot you Danny. We’re here to talk right?” Valerie asked.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, we are. If that’s what you want to do that is.”

“I’m the one who asked to meet up.” Valerie reminded him. “I have a few questions before we start talking about the big things.” Danny motioned for her to go on. “Who was that ghost in the forest?”

“Oh, that’s actually an easy question. Cool. It was Vesuvia, Ancient of volcanos, apparently. Some doomsday cultists or something along those lines summoned her here to kick-start the apocalypse. I thought they were ghosts not humans so I was looking in all the wrong spots until it was too late and you got hurt.” Danny frowned. Clearly he was upset about her injuries still despite her being fully healed. 

“What happened to the cultists then? Do they go to ghost court or since they’re humans is there like a GIW unit for that?” 

Danny snorted. “Ha, no. They died. Burnt to ash, not even bones left. If they do end up as ghosts in the Infinite Realms they’ll probably answer to the Observents but I doubt they will.”

“...Oh.” Valerie supposed his nonchalant attitude towards death made sense. He was a ghost and interacted with other dead people on a constant basis. But it was, unnerving. 

“Is that all you wanted to ask about?” Danny asked.

Valerie nodded her head. It wasn’t, but after that answer she was okay with waiting. “I wanted to let you know, that I won’t tell anyone your secret. I also am not planning on breaking up.” She held a finger up at Danny’s hopeful look. “But that doesn’t mean things aren’t going to be different from now on. This is going to take me a while to fully get my head around and after finding out something this big it’s going to take a while for things to feel normal again. I’m not even sure if things will work out between us in the end, but I am willing to try if you are.”

“Of course I am!” Danny all but shouted. “I mean, yes I understand. I’m also willing to try and make it work.” Valerie smiled. “I’m glad. Do you know what this means though?”

Danny tilted his head to the side, something so very Danny Fenton, it was weird to see on Danny Phantom. “What?”

“We can actually patrol together from now on.” Valerie laughed. Danny lit up after she said that. “First one to defeat five ghosts wins!” She called out before taking off.

“Oh you’re on!” He called after her.

Things certainly would be different. But Valerie didn’t think that was a bad thing.

[jonahfagnus]

i dont think you ever posted about your "jon sees elias as jonah when he takes the archivist job" au but please start with that immediately 👀👀👀👀👀👀

so i dont think theres very much that i didnt say in the tags of the post i made about it (unless tumblr ate those for some reason)

but basically. yeah after jon takes the archivist position he starts seeing elias as jonah (at elias' age, not as like. a corpse in the panopticon). obviously he immediately realises that its jonah bcs, yknow, the guys paintings are everywhere.

i imagine jon's train of thought is something like this:

did my boss get possessed by jonah magnus -> no thats dumb ghosts arent real -> im having a psychotic episode -> surely id be seeing other symptoms -> what the FUCK is happening

so a huge amount of jon's desire to find the truth about the supernatural ends up focused on jonah. initially he's just doing research into the actual guy jonah magnus himself but that doesnt really get him anywhere because its not like jonah was like "dear diary im an eye avatar and im going to start putting my eyes into other people so i can be immortal" so he starts doing research into elias instead. which also turns out to be quite difficult just doing normal research.

luckily, jon and elias are decently friendly with each other (at least in early s1, which this would still be). so surely its not weird to try and make sure your relationship with your boss is positive. thats just common sense thats just cultivating a welcoming workplace environment or whatever. and ofc elias is like

bcs this is objectively great! jons leaning into the eye hes considering breaching elias' privacy to learn more about him and ofc hes flattered that jon is so focused on him in particular. so he allows jon to break into his office and look through his things and he pretends he isnt watching the entire time, and he casually mentions some flaws in his home security to try and spur jon into breaking into his house (which he doesnt. yet.)

they're sort of not-quite-dating - tim might joke about jon going on dates with elias and jon gets very flustered and denies it and elias is a little over affectionate in public just to see how jon reacts, but neither of them have any idea that jon's doing all of this just so he can figure out why his boss is (apparently) the founder of the institute.

then prentiss happens. then they find gertrude's body.

i dont think jon gets as paranoid as he does in canon - hes been less of an asshole since all of his focus has gone into researching elias and trying to figure out what the fuck happened. so while i think he does do some research into the archival crew, its mainly research into gertrude herself, and continuing his research into elias. now with added stalking!

and of course elias still doesnt care about the stalking because hes still 1. very happy jon is taking to the eye so well and 2. flattered that jon is so focused on him to the point of stalking him. in my heart i know elias considers stalking to be a form of flirting

s2 goes generally the same but i want jon to find out about the not-them just a little sooner so i can make him go "holy shit! elias got not-them'd! what the fuck!" of course this is completely incorrect if you know anything about how the not-them works but jon. doesnt.

jon, of course, breaks the table. then he finds out that sasha got not-them'd. then he finds out leitner is alive. then he finds out leitner is dead.

who else does he have to go to? he shows up at elias' home, maybe just minutes after elias finishes cleaning up, because a man has been killed in his office and he didnt do it.

because i am a soft elias truther s3 isnt just manipulation and horrible things happening for jon. horrible things still do happen (elias very much doesnt discourage him from talking to jude perry, or mike crew, for example) and elias is still a bastard but its probably not any significant amount more horrible than canon s3 was.

jon probably spends amounts of time talking to elias about what leitner told him (which is hilarious to elias) and elias (against his better judgement) doesnt tell jon that leitner was lying, but instead asks him questions that may or may not lead him to figuring out the entities. he's curious as to what's going to happen, and he's sure jon likes him enough that showing just a little of what he knows wont tarnish their relationship

i dont have many thoughts beyond that - the confrontation probably goes differently, for example, and maybe jon permanently moves in with elias. i cant decide how much of a corruption arc i should give jon (obviously he ends up much more content with the eye than in canon bcs the eye is sexy but i cant decide if hes pro apocalypse or not) but when jon finds out that elias is jonah hes like "oh i know" and jonah is like what the fuck do you mean

[solmints-messyocdiary]

Tw: Animal death, suicide mention, blood, gore, torture mention, violent ideas

[Mismatched excerpts ripped off from Finley's Journal. The dates have been scribbled away with a black pen.]

It feels weird writing on a journal. Like something a teenager might do instead of a grown ass man who works from 9 to 5.

But I needed to destress and let it out on some pages after talking with my mother on the phone. I hate hearing her shrill voice on the other side of the receiver. The only thing she can do is complain and complain and complain about the same thing over and over again. I don't want to see that man either... I hate him more than her.

I can't handle her and to think I have to go and visit them on Thanksgiving and Christmas I feel like I am going to lose my damn head.

At least I can let things out and still practice my writing if needed, so that's a plus. I haven't had much time to update my book, and that's making me a bit sad. Hopefully, I'll be able to write a bit.

Might treat myself and go the diner to get some choco pancakes and a milkshake. Those will surely cheer me up.

Really want pancakes and milkshakes...

-

The longer I stay on this damn job, the more I feel like I am going to lose myself. I've been spacing out every 5 minutes whenever someone talks to me. It's hard. (Hehe)

I had to stay 2 more hours overtime, no pay for my hard work the 3rd time this week. I had to wake up earlier, too. I arrived around 8 instead of 9 because the computers were acting up at my workplace and needed me, the IT guy, to fix them.

Not to mention, the printer too... If I have to fistfight the printer again, or hear any of my coworkers complain, particularly Brandon, I am going to strangle them. I am really going to snap!!!

I wish their heads would just explode into a bloody mess. Just Carrie them off with my mind powers whenever I feel annoyed of them. They surely deserve that, particularly Brandon and my boss. Fuck those two. The world would be better if they didn't exists. We don't need red flags walking around the office... only me! Haha!

-

I promised myself to do it again, but alas, old habits die hard as the saying goes.

Went to the beach for a dip and found a baby bird on the sand. Ants surrounding its small body and biting pieces away to bring it to their lair. Lucky for me, I always have my camera with me. Never the one to miss a chance.

I guess I should be sad but that's how nature is.

Cruel.

I wonder how others would react if they saw my ant-bitten corpse...

-

Finished rewatching Scream 2 and...

Damn... Why is Mickey kinda...?

Like... you know? If I was a girl I'd be into him and have his poster hanging over my bedroom wall haha.

Still angry at Scream 2 for killing Randy, tho. He was my favorite.

Rented Carrie, Slaughter High, Graduation, Prom Night, for tonight. Felt a bit nostalgic for some reason. Getting shoved in a locker every tuesday really does something to a guy. Going to have a nice movie night with myself while I think of my high school times.

Totally good for my mental stability, yup!

-

I wonder how my old high school friends have been doing...

Do they remember me with disdain? Are they happy with their life? More successful? Managed to marry a nice gal or guy and have many kids together? A stable job and nice suburban house?

...

Fuck them.

-

Death still scares me.

I thought that if I forced myself to witness the worst of the worst. Every torture imaginable, researching hours and hours and hours of how a body decays, how long does it take for it to rot, shrink, turn into dust.

Live footages of people getting decapitated, stabbed, run over, split in half, drowned, squashed to death, gutted, burned alive, choked, flayed.

I'd grow out of it.

It's not that hard to look for stuff like that as long as you know where to find it and you're patient.

Will I ever be able to look at their loved ones in their eyes. Admit that I saw the last moments of their brother, mother, a cousin? The light leaving their eyes?

I thought I've become numb enough to just stare attentively, not blinking for a second.

People I know will die one day. Complete strangers, lives of theirs I will never know, are dying as I write this.

And yet, I remain wide awake. Imagining how it'll feel for my body to reach nothingness. The maggots feasting on my insides, eating away little by little. Gourging themselves on the bile and flesh and pus from my organs till they become fat, squirmy little bugs. Eating, mating, dying, rinse and repeat over and over and over again.

My skin itches thinking of it. Like they have already managed to crawl deep inside.

Even a death as boring and not spectacular like an illness terrifies me.

-

How long do I have left? Have I wasted my life? Is it too late for me?

When will I die...

-

I miss my friends from high school... some of them I've forgotten their names...

I sometimes think about Chelsea. No, I am always thinking about her...

If I contact her... will she ever forgive me?

It's too late to cry over spilt milk.

-

Seems I've been thinking about death a lot lately.

I went to go see a movie to try and fend of the feelings of dread and paranoia that have been seeping in me.

Stale popcorn, overpriced and oversized. Check.

Watered down soda. Check.

Badly directed horror film? Check.

Annoying and talkative patrons? Double check.

The blood effects weren't as cool compared to others, but at least the lead was hot even if she couldn't act to save her life.

-

Why am I even trying?

-

I made a blog.

I post all the pictures I've taken from dead animals and roadkill.

-

I feel numb.

-

I haven't been feeling real as of late. I even dared touch one of the spilt out guts of a cat behind an alleyway. I wanted to feel something. See if I was still here. I pushed my fingers in, feeling the slimy and sticky organs. It burned and I janked my hand away.

It felt surreal.

I can't feel my hands or face at times. Like they weren't even there to begin with.

-

I think I might go to a therapist.

-

I want to die...

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 29: survival (Wesker's P.O.V.)

Upon seeing Tabitha's unconscious form being rolled into her medical bay I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The bandages were barely bloody. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully, I am positive that she was at rest for once.

"You know you staring at her like that makes you seem more like a stalker rather than her husband," Gale said walking into the room I.V. in hand.

"And you would know that how, Chambers?" I asked a slight tone of irritation in my voice.

He shrugged and started to tap on Tabitha's left arm to find a vein, "So you are back in the picture ay boss? That's good for her. She's a great person when she's not a little lonely and depressed."

"She normally has to get I.V.s in her hand. She has rolling veins Chambers." I said taking her other hand in my own," She is so beautiful, I regret not choosing to come to find her supposed corpse after the Raccoon City incident. I remember when Birkin called me to tell me she passed. I was enraged and inconsolable. He had told me Sergei had killed her and was taking her corpse with Spencer out of Raccoon City."

"I know, I was the U.B.C.S. agent on that helicopter. She was leaning up against me cold as ice. But on oxygen and an I.V. of some drug keeping her alive and unconscious. Spencer handed Vladimir a vial and a syringe." He said poking the needle into Tabitha's left dorsal metacarpal vein.

"That was when he infected her with the angelis virus then," I said stroking her hair out of her face and adjusting my sunglasses.

"Yes, I think so at least. Who's that?" Gale asked and I turned my head.

"Albert, are you in here?" Excella said entering the medical bay.

"Excella will you prep my serum? I'll take it in here. I haven't had my dose this afternoon." I quickly said to get her to leave.

"Yes, Albert," She quickly said rushing out.

Gale looked at me slightly shaking his head ” Damnit Wesker you got a lot of bitches who want a piece of you, but not in hand-to-hand combat if you know what I mean. By the way, does that one bitch just piss you off cuz you told her to scram real quick since you sent her away so quickly?" He laughed and I felt my eyes flared slightly.

"That is none of your concern Chambers. Now back to the previous discussion. How long were you in the Russian base with my precious lotus?" I asked looking back at Tabitha.

"Winter of ninety-eight just after the Rockfort incident. I got infected by a Bandersnatch when Alfred lost control of his base. T was in her sleeper mode as I'd call it and Vladimir had her hair a silverfish color at the time. You might not have known it was her at the time but she was the one who caused the explosion where your face got badly burnt in Antarctica. She doesn't remember anything from her sleeper modes. Vladimir enjoyed telling her what she did when we returned. She damn near committed suicide. I had to stop her that time."

"I should get her in to see my psychologist based at the Tricell base. She was caused so much trauma by that bastard Sergei. My goddess deserves the best care." I said caressing her cheek.

She was going to be the mother of our new world, with Uroboros and the Angelis virus we are unstoppable. I just need my delicate lotus to be stable enough to keep herself safe when I'm not around. I was gone for so long from her life but still managed to love me enough to come find me. Even if it was under the guise of our daughter.

"There aren't many of us left are there Wesker?" Gale said standing in the door frame holding a picture of Rebecca

"What are you going on about Chambers?" I demanded to know being pulled from my train of thought.

"Us as Umbrellas pawns and S.T.A.R.S. survivors. We are the only three in the world that knew what happened that night and why." Gale said tucking away the photo and going for a lighter.

"You still have that old thing," I asked walking over and taking off my sunglasses.

"It has sentimental value, ya know. Barry gave me this on my first day in S.T.A.R.S. Barry said you might need this in the future kid keep it with ya, and he handed me this lighter. You were right when you told me that we survivors walk a difficult path, but I had Rebecca. You two on the other hand were fucked from the get-go. Sergei keeping you and her apart."

"It was difficult but in the end, we made it back to each other. How is Rebecca anyway?" I asked genuinely curious but was met by a dangerous glare.

"Leave my sister out of this Wesker. She is finally in a safe place and I'm not letting her back in the field just yet." Gale said turning to face me.

"I seemed to have touched a nerve, you are as hot-headed as you were in S.T.A.R.S. Chambers," I said with a smirk.  

"Bet I could beat out your sorry ass now. I'm twice the combatant I was when I was vice-captain of the Bravo team." Gale said smugly.

"You couldn't even beat Tabitha when she had her ankle in a brace." I  scoffed.

"Alright, we spar and if I win you keep Rebecca off the table with your plans." He said offering his hand out.

I was intrigued I used to take these bets with Tabitha, "What do I get if I win then Chambers?"

"I'll go back with you to Africa as long as I can continue my work with Phoenix Corps." Gale offered his hand still and firm.

"Alright deal but I must warn you even in her equinoxal state I still have not lost to Tabitha," I said.

"Follow me," Gale said walking out of Tabitha's med bay.

The walk was not long on the left-hand side of the vehicle bay was a large gym. Next to that was a glass room with judo mats along the floor. An Emblem of a blue and green Phoenix on the wall.

"This is where I train the recruits. Takea the best to make the best." Chambers said tossing aside his jacket and getting into a starting stance.

"So you think you can beat me Chambers? Let us see if what I taught you is still in that thick skull of yours."  I said lunging at Gale at full speed landing a cobra strike on his chest.

Gale chuckles “Ok, wesker that was a nice little move there” Gale dashes forward towards me as I prepped my counter however, Gale sidesteps to the right and hits me square in the jaw.

"Not bad," I smirked wickedly grabbing onto the fist he just hit me with and slamming my heel into Gale's side holding on to his fist attempting to dislocate his shoulder, "but not good enough."

“Trying to break my arm this early wesker,” Gale says sarcastically.

Gale turns his body towards me trying to go for a body kick but I quickly catch him and throw him against a wall “Had enough yet Chambers”

"Come on we both know your wife hits harder than that." Gale cracks his neck standing up from the floor and unsheathing his Rambo knife, speeds behind me. In the blink of an eye, the tip of his blade snagged my left shoulder tearing it mildly into flesh.

"try and keep up Wesker." Gale mocked.

“You’ll pay for that dearly Chambers” I said slightly frustrated and charged for Gale.

Gale smirked quickly sidestepped and slashed my side.

Grabbing  my side I growled, "Hmm and I know my dear lotus taught you not to get cocky."

I grabbed the blade, dislodging it from Gale's hand and throwing it into the wall. quickly spinning and I landed a palm strike on Gale's center of gravity.

Even though watching Chambers struggle to regain balance is entertaining I knew I had to end this. With a quick roundhouse kick to the face, I knocked Gale to the floor. Pinning him with my knee and resting my arm on his throat, “You may be faster Chambers, but your technique is severely flawed when it comes to superiors such as myself."

"Not bad boss not many can get me down." Gale coughs.

Tabitha walks in clapping, "Not bad for the first spar in years between my best student and my greatest treasure."

Hey everyone slifarianhawk here I partnered up with my co-writer to bring you this chapter have an amazing weekend next chapter will be a good one My name is Silfarianhawk and I'm not so far away.

[demonspawnshell]

The Evil Goobers Quotes

Alex and Phillip come from @alice-angel12x

—————————

Phillip, walking in with blueprints:Hey Boss I got a new— WHAT THE HELL?!

Alex, casually sitting on Phobus’ lap as Phobus sleeps: What? He said he couldn’t sleep alone.

He has no idea how it can be interpreted.

—————————

Phillip: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Phobus does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff?

Alex: If Phobus were to jump off a cliff, they would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Phobus jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.

Phillip:You jump off a cliff!

Alex: Gladly. Provided Phobus did first.

—————————

Phillip, walks into the kitchen to see Phobus: Phobus, it's 3 in the morning! Why on earth are you making chocolate pudding?

Phobus: Because I've lost control of my life...

—————————

Phobus: Get in, loser, we’re committing vehicular manslaughter!

—————————

Phobus: How do you want your coffee?

Phillip: Black, like my soul.

Phobus:...

Phillip:...

Phobus: Phillip, your soul is a latte.

—————————

Phillip: I know one person who finds me funny!

Alex: Okay, who?... and you can't say yourself!

Phillip: Okay then I'm out.

—————————

Phillip: Capitalizing every word in a sentence is vomit inducing.

Phobus: Enjoy Your Trip To Puke Land, Boy!

—————————

Phillip: CHARACTER. FLAWS. ARE. FUCKING. IMPORTANT.

Phobus: Me when someone tells me to stop eating mayo packets like they’re gogurt tubes.

—————————

Phobus: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Alex: Sure!

Alex: Whats your favorite color?

Phobus, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you like men?

—————————

Phobus: You’re overthinking this.

Alex: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Phobus. What if I’m underthinking?

—————————

Phillip: I have a bad feeling about this...

Alex: What do you mean?

Phillip: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Alex: No?

Phobus: That actually explains so much

—————————

Phillip: Alex said its my turn with the brain cell.

Phobus: Square up.

—————————

Phillip: I feel like I can be myself around you.

Alex: You’re weird and quiet around me.

Phillip: Yes.

—————————

Phillip: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.

Phobus: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

—————————

Phobus: I’m really glad “fight me” has replaced “sue me” in the common vernacular because I don’t have money, but I do have fists and I am always angry.

—————————

Phillip: Oh, here’s my award for the most rules broken!

Phobus: That’s not an award, it’s an angry letter from our boss.

Phillip, hanging it on their wall: Well, it has the word ‘most’ in it, so I’m calling it an award!

—————————

Phobus: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!

Alex: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time

—————————

Phillip: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

—————————

Phillip: Look, Phobus! It's the good Kush!

Phobus: It's the dollar store, how good can it be?

—————————

Phillip: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Phobus: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

—————————

Alex: I hope you have an explanation for this.

Phillip: We have three, actually!

Phobus: Pick your favorite.

—————————

Alex: I like to play this game called nap roulette. I take a nap and don’t set an alarm. Will it be 20 min or 4 hours? Nobody knows. It’s risky and I like it.

—————————

Alex: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited.

Phillip: "If"

Phobus: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die.

(Foreshadowing :0)

—————————

TBA; Most quotes came from

Others are from me :]

[nerves-nebula]

Super cool that you're adding more variety to the monsters!! Makes me wonder if, during times with less available food, the bigger "boss" monsters would ever try luring the younger/smaller/less experienced monsters to eat them?

Depending on how "sentient" the monsters are too it mayyyyyyyyyyy be possible for a especially vengeful-against-humans object-head to team up with a monster to help lure in more food? Object head can promise food and bring the people into the monster's trap.

I am cradling this universe in my hands it is so fascinating also I just read the wire frame mother post and leakrgmlakermg depending on how much impact the object head has over the humanoid form there could be object heads that feel similar. Having a close bond but knowing that there's a barrier in communication and ability to comfort. that post hits harddd

OK OK OK SOOOO THE THING ABOUT THAT IS!!! I've already kind of upgraded the eyeball creatures from "Typical Animalistic Horror Beast" to "Fully Sapient Creatures" AND THAT comes with some interesting questions like WHY are they doing what they're doing AMONG OTHER THINGS. Which I (mostly) have answers for but will get to later.

The idea of bigger monsters eating smaller ones WOULD be really cool if I hadn't already decided that the eyeball creatures are fully sapient and have multiple different cultures/societies.

for example: some of the monsters think its more humane to integrate themselves into humans societies as gods/build cults around themselves for humans to worship and sacrifice themselves to. While others dont really consider humans intelligent enough/high enough beings to warrant such forethought and just prefer to hunt them whenever they want. Some of the monsters think they're inherently superior, some just think of humans as food and a respected part of the ecosystem, and some actively recognize humans intelligence and want to find a better way to coexist with them (though that third group is kind of a minority rn)

anyway, I was imagining these creatures dont eat object heads because they taste really gross or something. so object heads that aren't sought after to be USED can often become important figures in societies/camps because humans know that they're not bothered by the eyeball creatures.

BUT. another thing I was thinking of was basically,, what if a few of these eyeball creatures were "nice"? or at least not actively hunting humans? What if a few of them were even FRIENDS with humans/object heads?

SO UHHH here's one symbiotic duo!

Ezra and "Pet"!

Ezra is a human guy who was dying in the forest, bleeding out on the ground, when he was found by Pet! Pet is an eyeball creature who's been ostracized by most of the other eyes because its lesions grew on its neck instead of its sides. This deformity/genetic disorder causes Pet constant pain and irritation and makes hunting/luring humans harder for Pet. Basically, Pet deals with chronic pain and often can't feed itself.

SO for context: The way that these eyeballs eat humans is by fully absorbing peoples energy/life via their tail eye stalks. In doing so, they absorb the bodies, once connected to the corpses they puppet around the dead bodies to trick other humans into coming close. Despite their size and off-putting look they aren't actually that physically strong and it isn't impossible to kill one. There are a lot of them though, and they're very good at absorbing you once you get close enough to actually hurt them.

SO with that context, here's what happens next: Pet begins absorbing Ezra, but in doing so opens up a channel, and makes Ezra a deal. Ezra is clearly dying and wouldn't survive even if Pet left him alone. and Pet might get a meal out of Ezra, but it will likely die soon as well since it hasn't been able to hunt on its own for a long time. But if Ezra promises to help Pet find food, then Pet will sustain Ezra via an eyeball stalk. So they're effectively in a symbiotic relationship.

Ezra helps Pet trap a few people but after the first few he can't do it and says he'd rather die, so they start experimenting with other things and actually find that Pet can live off of animals too! with a few big caveats.

Animals taste awful

Animals make Pet a little bit sick

Pet has to eat a TON of animals constantly as apposed to eating a human every now and then.

its not an ideal situation for Pet, but it's better than dying. and being with Ezra is way better than being alone.

also, "Pet" isn't the creatures real name, it's more like a nickname Ezra gives it. None of the human/object head characters can pronounce or even fully comprehend Pets real name.

ANYWHO. there's definitely going to be more monster/human/object head team ups but this is the first one I thought of :)

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ dungeon ] It had been an epic battle, the type one could only expect in one of the greatest dungeons of the continent. The giant salamanders had proven to be mighty opponents but stood no chance against the joined efforts of Cú Chulainn's party. At some point, the dungeon shook and other adventurers ran but the trio was busy keeping the monsters from advancing. In hindsight, it would've been better if they had run as well. If they had, maybe they wouldn't be in this predicament now. Tons of rubble had fallen, effectively sealing the exit. In other words, they were more or less trapped, though it was known that (oddly enough) there were other exits in the deeper levels of the dungeon. Well, at least his party wasn't the only one who got off on the wrong foot. "Any luck over there?" The warrior asked the leader of the other party, but he didn't have his hopes up. "I'm pretty strong myself but even I can't move a boulder this big, so… What do you think of working together until we find another exit?"

     TOMOE SIGHED, STARING AT the sight of the rumble before her with an expression that could only be exhaustion. This was supposed to be an easy job where you go in, go out, and earn some quick coin bringing back the corpses of specific monsters to be turned into delicious meals. She was rather…hesitant…about eating anything in here, but Arash and Nagayoshi seemed to be overjoyed with being able to be front row and center to it all – Nagayoshi the most considering he was currently loudly complaining about the blocked off exit. ❝I am afraid not. There is just too much rubble to move.❞ She could use her strength and assist, but there was that innate fear she might use too much and potentially make things worse. With a sigh, she lifted her hand, placing it upon her cheek and closing her eyes. Their boss was going to worry about them if they were gone too long. He always worried about each of the mercenaries under him which was one of the reasons she decided to choose his group out of the others who had caught her eye as well. However, she would like to prevent that if she could.

     At the mention of looking for another exit, she looked between her two partners, both of them patting dust and rubble from them as they nodded in agreeance to that particular idea. Well…that was really the only path they all had open, wasn’t it? Stay here and hope they get dug out or spend days upon days trying to move rubble, or looking elsewhere. The former was risky in the fact that they didn’t know just how much was in that pathway. It could take days  to clear all this. Yes, the latter choice seemed far wiser. Turning to look at Cu, she smiled and bowed her head politely. ❝We all agree that is the better option for all of us. Hopefully, with our combined abilities, we will be able to leave this dungeon before the day ends.❞ Or at least, until tomorrow morning.

     One could dream...

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Nicknames To Call The Royalty And Nobility Of Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss & Theories And Other Stuff To Talk About...

 first I want to say that it was too bad I didn’t get to post any “Halloween Fanart” like either a video game character or cartoon character or both on Halloween...

I did get to watch a movie during that time, a DVD of Nightmare before Christmas.....I was going to start with Corpse Bride first and then go to watching Nightmare Before Christmas, but at some point in the movie where Victor was in that netherworld....?

well I think there is something wrong with the DVD and no matter how many times I stop the movie, and then go back to the chapter it had stop on...well it kept freezing up, so might have to try to fix it sometime...

I know we have one of those items that is suppose to help fix a disc when that kind of thing happens, or if it is dirty.

also even though it was Halloween, it just didn’t....feel much like it to me during that day, I guess it was one of those days maybe...?

where you might feel in a little in a “Meh” mood...

anyway we know that Asmodeus, Mr. Playboy Heart-Breaker of Lust....

is also known by his nickname Ozzie...

one of the nicknames I would like for Charlie’s Dad,

would be Eon-Boomer, and  Sugar Apple Papa...

 I did do a drawing of Charlie’s Dad wearing a shirt with the words “Sugar Apple Papa”....

and I know that Mammon hasn’t appeared yet in Helluva Boss,

but I still want to call him by the nickname Manny, and even Mona...

but Manny seems to fit the most...

besides messing with Lucifer by giving him a shirt that reads Sugar Apple Papa.

messing with Mammon by giving him a shirt with a arrow pointed up at his face that reads This Dork For Rent, was the best idea I ever had when drawing a fan art of the Mammon from Helluva Boss, even if we don’t know what he will officially look like yet, and only know a little bit of how he looks from his picture on the money....

but once we do see him appear in a episode, I’m still gonna call him “Manny”

and if some theories about Beelzebub is true, I know I had watched a theory video that has to with the Hellhounds that had to do with her...

I forgot the name of the video but if I find it again, I will re-watch it...

and well we know that Asmodeus’s canon nickname is Ozzie, and Mammon’s fanon nickname is Manny (because I started to call him by the nickname Manny, I would like to tease him with that nickname. XP )

but as for Beezlebub, well I can’t help but have a certain nickname in mind for her even if it might never be canon...

and well it’s a nickname that I’m gonna kind of censor in this....

so yeah, anyway....her nickname would be Beezleb*tch.

not sure what her official appearance will be or when she will be in a episode, but in my fan headcanon, her nickname is Beezleb**ch.....

I do have a theory that the episode was suppose to be in Season 1 of Helluva Boss, where Blitz and Loona go to some party...?

that has that Male Hellhound that was being friendly with Loona that showed in a preview clip...

my guess is that it is possible that episode might end up being part of Season 2, because of certain reasons...

I don’t mind waiting for that episode, and I’m sure the Team that works on the show are doing there best and hope they are making sure to take some breaks, like for food, sleep and well, maybe even watching a movie or playing a video game...

anyway back to the whole nicknames....

Belphegor, would be called Bell or Belph....? the Prince of Envy, could be called Levy... and well as for Satan, I am still sticking with Stan as a nickname...

I know that Moxxie and Millie live in the Wrath Ring, which is suppose to be ruled by him....

well, I guess we might end up seeing him in a future episode, don’t know when or what season...

and is it weird to have thoughts of me wanting to flip him the double bird...?

well at least the Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss version of him, didn’t end up having some Toxic Followers that harmed one of my past life selves...

yeah, I’m so going to hope that in my next reincarnations, I never end up being reborn in to a Toxic-Satanist Family, there should be some kind of freaking rule that forbids Earth Angels, even Defective ones like myself, from having their soul placed in a body, that is just gonna be used in one of those rituals.

and yeah, Toxic-Satanist are but only one of the names of the Toxic-Religious people on my list....like those disgusting Toxic-Priests and Toxic-Nuns who did some pretty messed up stuff and crossed a line that should never be crossed...

I think it is possible that while maybe some people are Satanist, I think some have some sense not to cross a certain line....

and it might be for the best that past life memories, are only remembered in a bits and pieces and not the full picture, because for some who had something really bad happen to them in one of their past lives....sometimes it is best to NEVER remember it, because it could be bad.

but with luck, some memories you have will just be copy memories from your soul parent or parents that your soul was born from...

you will still have your own memories, but it is likely some copy memories from your soul parents or soul parents, will be stuck to your soul’s memory.

also after thinking about the episode that Striker appears in,

I got to say that it was awesome for not ending up like certain shows that portray those who live in a place where everyone is viewed as a “hillbilly”

still, jokes on some people, I might technically be a Hillbilly...

but my parents weren’t, because they were born elsewhere.

I mean, the whole “backwards hillbilly” trope could still be used in some shows and movies, but some humans should have common sense to know that not everyone who is a hillbilly, will be like that.

and there can be other reasons why some might end up missing some teeth, which by the way, wouldn’t be for whatever reason that is shown in the backwards trope...

don’t know how many go through it, and plus some who aren’t even living in the places where they are called hillbillies...

there could be different reasons why it can happen, but even if it does happen, don’t give some the right to just assume whatever it is they are thinking, no matter if it is “hillbilly stereotyping” or something else...  

 anyway, we know that Blitz did give a stereotypical comment about Imps from the Wrath Ring, but it’s possible that he knows that some of the stereotyping of the Imps from the Wrath Ring, is not 100% true.

it could be possible that some Imps from each ring, will marry other Imps from other rings, and if Striker is a hybrid type Imp...

then it could be possible that at some point in the past, Imps started to marry or had some kind of affair with other non-Imps, and ended up having Imp Hybrid offspring together.

also one of my Helluva Boss theories, is that a Female Imp’s horns are made out of some type of obsidian, well that is a weird theory but not all theories have to be correct...

it could be possible that we wont see the other princes right away in Helluva Boss, but we might end up seeing Stella’s brother and even Mammon next at some point in the future.

a weird thought pop into my head just now, picturing Stella’s brother doing that whole hand to the wall and leaning to a person who’s back is to the wall trope...

and the one he is doing that to is Collin....

that ship might only stay in the fanon, but I guess I would be surprised if that ship ended up becoming popular, but how many would end up shipping Collin x Andrealphus together...?    

just picture Stella screaming at Andrealphus “Not You Too?!”

all while he is hugging Collin, who is trying very hard to escape but can’t because of how tightly Andrealphus has a hold on him.

one of the nicknames for Stella’s brother, can be Andy and Andrea.

also I have tried to look up some form of info that has to do with the info I read before that has to do with Jesus purposely causing some kind of bad stuff, but with any luck that information is just not true and is myth...

but if he so much as does try to actually try to cause a war between some nations, that would pretty much peeve me off...

there is still no proof that he would technically be my ancestor, because even if his blood type is different from O RH D Negative and well, even if someone’s blood type is different they could still have genetic of some blood types that come from their different families either on their father or mother’s side...

but yeah I know that he is suppose to be a descendant of King David, like me...

so the only proof that makes us technically family, is that and making us distant cousins.....and I guess being a Earth Angel, I guess there can be other relations as well....

I still don’t think I would be allowed to grab him by his ear if he ends up trying to cross a line, even if I still want to grab the Antichrist by the ear and show no mercy to the said ear....cause I ain’t having none of that mess.

 it might be a good thing that the Feminine energy is getting back into balance, not counting the Toxic-Feminine energy.

it is possible that Mary Magdalene was the Feminine Messiah, but just because I and others might believe it could be true, doesn’t mean that everyone will.

I also think it is good that Helluva Boss and maybe even Hazbin Hotel, have a slightly different history from the canon stuff that is wrote about the angels, fallen angels and demons that is wrote in myths and religion...

although it can suck to know how the daughters of Eve and Adam are possibly not given enough respect....

also if Lilith was Adam’s first wife, he should of left her alone so she could heal properly, and Adam trying to force her to come back to him and not telling God the full reason why she left in the first place...

it just doesn’t seem right, plus after thinking about yesterday....

I came to the theory that when Lilith left Adam, she was pregnant with his unborn child or children....

and it might of been a good thing she left, because the bad stress wouldn’t of been good for the baby or babies if she was going to have twins.

and if Lilith had 100 children, the ones that she had with Adam, would be the eldest....

not everyone has to agree to that theory, but I think it could be possible that Lilith was pregnant when she left Adam.

also the weirdest theory I have is that Fizzarolli and Blitzo had ended up switching bodies, before the whole Stolas x Blitz affair and before Fizzarolli started to work with Ozzie and before he got those robotic limbs.

which if that theory were true, that would mean that the Blitz we know, was originally Fizzarolli and the Fizzarolli we know was originally Blitzo.

both could love horses, even if their friendship fell apart.

Fizzarolli, who now goes by Blitz and doesn’t want to go by the “o” because it is silent now....could of had two reasons to want to use Stolas’s book.

one, to go to Earth and see the horses there and two, to find a way to switch himself and Blitzo who is now called Fizzarolli, back to normal.

anyway I don’t think I have much else to say for this....

I mean there was the nicknames, and some other stuff....

I think in my next post after this, I will talk about a FNAF theory....

I also want to say that even if the nickname might be a bit rude,

the nickname Beelzeb*tch had pop into my head.....

I think it first pop into my head when watching a Helluva Boss Theory video...

I loved the two episodes of Season 2 of Helluva Boss.

and my thoughts about Loona and Octavia are this...

I sib it, because once again not all “Ships” will be romantic, and you ONLY use the “I ship it” if it is gonna be the romantic type.

if it’s a sibling type thing, where it’s platonic and not romantic...

you use “I sib it.” and for family either adoptive or step-family...

you use “I fam it.”.....and for friendships, there is “I bud it.”

I think that Loona will be like a big sister and friend to Octavia, which would be both a I sib it and I bud it type.

anyway I’m gonna go watch a movie first, before I talk about a FNAF theory...

and maybe I will talk about a Undertale and Deltarune theory after that....

and maybe I will think about other nicknames for the royalty and nobility from Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel.

I’m still gonna call Mammon from Helluva Boss, by the nickname Manny.

maybe I will do another drawing of him wearing a shirt that says This Dork For Rent.....I think I might be really weird to come up with that idea...

it would of still been nice if I had did a drawing for Halloween but I didn’t get to, I did kind of sleep half through it, and only was able to wake up for the few hours left of Halloween, and I got to watch a movie during that time.

it just didn’t feel much like Halloween, I guess some might of felt this way before for some days, not just for Halloween.

hopefully when it does get to Christmas, it will feel like Christmas.

one of the things I can look forward to this month, before the next month where Christmas will be starting on....

is that on November, there will be a Season 3 of the Cuphead Show.

oh and this month I saw some new trailer for the Bendy and the Dark Revival, so it disproves any assumptions about that game being canceled.

just got to wait a few more days for Season 3 of the Cuphead Show. 

also want to add that in theory, that Lucifer and Lilith from Hazbin Hotel, might either be very affectionate with each other and are very much in love which is how some fans write fan fic or fan art about them...

or they could be on the rocks and could be having a on-and-off type of thing going on....so there are two theories, one is that those two are madly and silly in love or two, they are having a little bit of a separation and coming close to a divorce but still see each other because they are on that “on-and-off” type of love....one of those two theories might be true...                      

[mismatched-oddbrothers]

Writing: Current Quintology Compatibility Thoughts

So I’ve been thinking about how my stuff would fit in the current timeline, since I’ve been writing in the old one. (Though with bits adopted from the new one, of course.  Worldbuilding is worldbuilding.)  Now, I am not abandoning my fics.  I will see through everything I have planned in the continuity I have planned them in!  But I did want to come up with how to adapt them to the current Quintology timeline, whether for RP purposes or for something to do after I’ve finished them in their entirety (what now?  Do it again for current canon!)

The Free Hands Society would probably not change too much.  The biggest canon ripple for them is the extinction of the Meeches, which was unchanged.  Zombie’s introduction to the Society would probably be heavily altered, however, as the BotaniCo employees’ background as ex-RuptureFarms means that in this timeline they are Soulstorm-dependent, and I would love to play with that.  Perhaps our catalyst problem customer could in this timeline damage the vendo in the employee break room, forcing Aron to try to find ways to not lose his Mudokons - because he needs the BotaniCo retail front to stay in business because his secret club is in its basement!  Maybe, in the interest of writing something new, he and Zombie can share the protagonist role for the intro.

Brothers of Disparate Queens, however, would need to change a lot.  The backgrounds of both Ben and Dee rely very heavily on events exclusive to Exoddus and Munch, and their reasoning for seeking shelter with the native Mudokons hinges too much on Abe being a known public threat.

Speaking of public perception, Paradise Vineyards is likely more in the public eye once Drunce starts making money.  Its origins are likely the same, but he cannot run his vineyards quietly once he makes enough.  Now, a Glukkon boss doting on his workers and even basically adopting one of them is still strange among Glukkons and he’s probably a subject of quiet scorn among them - but here’s the problem: the news would love them.  The core problem with Drunce’s operation here would be that they are used as propaganda to cover for all the countless Magog operations that work as we see in canon, and the big internal character conflict for Ben would be more along these lines - the guilt over having such a relatively healthy, pleasant life would run much deeper.

Aydik scrambling to find new footing for his restaurant chain after RuptureFarms 1029 blows up can stay.  Obviously, his hatred is now directed at Molluck rather than Abe, which leads to a new dynamic - to him, this is a betrayal.  That could be the emotional undercurrent of his meeting with Drunce to try to keep himself in business, as, softhearted as Drunce is, he’d be very much legitimately horrified at the presumed deaths of its slaves. (Does that news story that mentions some are “openly weeping” at the wreckage have photos attached?  He might be featured in a page offscreen!)  The party can stay, though the guests wouldn’t be drinking Soulstorm and the Mudokons would have access to it as needed. Cai getting an errant spirit vision that drives him into homicidal madness can definitely stay (”And this is why we have trials,” the old Mudomo queen’s spirit says, deadpan, to the horrified spirit responsible.) (In reverse, bits of the old Quintology I wouldn’t be treating as noncanon.  It’s not infeasible tribes named Mudomo and Mudanchee did exist and did venerate Paramites and Scrabs respectively, it makes sense still.)  Kind of a shame the guy turning himself into a time bomb corpse would no longer work, as a Mudokon holding a bottle of Brew would no longer cause a fight in the kitchens.  That was one of my favorite chapters to write.  Incidentally the guests not drinking Soulstorm would dramatically alter how I implement the Mudomo queen’s interference, or perhaps only when her influence begins.  But I do still plan to have her influence the same people, somehow.

This one requires a lot more thought.  I guess I’ll figure it out as I continue working on the original timeline stuff!  It’s fascinating to think about!