#i'm so good at survival horror games

[invinciblerodent]

himh I'll make a Dark Urge that's so fucking scared

big scary bloodsoaked killer, tearing through armies with her literal bare hands? nah. a quiet, scared girl who doesn't understand why she does what she does, why she can do what she can, but is, at the same time, deeply disgusted by herself because she has just enough self-awareness to know to be repulsed.

maybe it's because I'm a tiny bit obsessed with clinging to the thought that people, at the end of the day, are fundamentally good, no matter what. that there is a fundamental human goodness in all people that makes them worthy of redemption, or at least of the opportunity for atonement.

maybe the way I want to play a story like that is with someone who, stripped from indoctrination and free for the first time to think for herself and embrace and be who she is, finds that in the deepest, most hidden pits of her soul, she is not the strong, kind, resilient person she might want to be. try as the might, she is not someone who can bear the weight of her own past, she's just a... a terrified, broken little girl, cowering in the shadows and unable to look herself in the eye. (which also gives me ideas for her relationship with Orin but that's a little bit beside the point)

cathartic self-insert who. therapy? what is that. is it on Steam or Epic.

[drconnors]

curt connors vc: i care for all my mentees equally! there’s peter, gwendolyn and *looks at smudged writing on clipboard* harkins

[odoraful]

I'm not scared.ᐟ

it's a cosy saturday night. rain gently patters against the windows. you set up a small projector in your bedroom and decide to play a horror game with your boyfriend while snuggling in bed.

characters: zayne, xavier, rafayel content: headcanons, established relationship, no in-depth details of anything scary (however, there are descriptions of the type of horror game they play!) a/n: tbh i’m not the biggest fan of horror games, but i do enjoy peoples' reactions to playing them, so i thought it’d be fun to picture how the boys would play hehe

𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬

You're playing an exploration-focused game set in a hospital. The main character is a patient who seems to be having visions of their past.

You take the controls, and he lets you sit in his lap. Only if you get too scared or rage quits does he take the controller from you to play.

“No!” You cry out when the hiding spot you put your character in is discovered by the creature. You bury your face into Zayne’s arm, frightened by the sudden attack.

Defeated, you hang your head and wordlessly raise the controller towards him.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you to take it from your hands. “I’m guessing that means you’re tapping out for now?”

Snuggling deeper into his chest, you sigh. “Yep, you’re subbing in.”

Zayne manoeuvres the character carefully around the abandoned hospital and you hold your breath. The silence of his concentration is occasionally broken by your gasp seeing the creature stalking right past the character. Miraculously, he manages to evade and escape on his first try. 

“We did it!” You cheer with relief. 

“We?" He lifts a brow. "If I’m not mistaken, I was the one holding the controller.”

“Well, I was your emotional support!”   

If he is scared, he never lets it show. Rather than screams, the most you’ll get out of him is a slight flinch or a curse under his breath. He actually seems to be more frustrated than frightened. 

He’s an ace detective when it comes to putting clues together and figuring out the mystery! Lowkey a lore gatherer. 

“I see… so these hallucinations are simply a manifestation of the main character’s guilt.” He's absorbed in the inventory screen, sifting through all the collected notes and letters.  “Zayne, I think we’ve spent more time reading than actually playing...”

𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹

You’re playing a survival game set in space. The main character is a lone astronaut on a space station who must defeat an extraterrestrial monster. 

You two alternate between who’s in charge of controls based on each save point. 

When he does get scared, he reacts by dodging out of the way in real life as if the alien is actually coming through the screen. 

Xavier doesn’t have the most experience with video games, so it takes him a little bit to understand the mechanics. Despite this inexperience, he still clutches it anyway. It also pushes him to try over and over again even if he fails multiple times. 

"Xavier, let me have a go at it if you can’t get past this.” 

This is his third go at defeating the monster in the final stage of the game. He shakes his head fervently. “I can do this. If you think about it, this is just like evading a wanderer’s attacks.” There’s a determined look in his eyes. “I should be good at this.”

You poke his shoulder. “Well, the problem is that the character in-game doesn’t have your evol to help them out.”

Xavier hums thoughtfully. “They have a sword though. I know how to use a sword.”

The innocence of his tone strikes you through your heart and you can't say anything to refute his logic. Maybe real-life sword skills can transfer to in-game controls.  You give in. “Okay, you get one more go at it! I know you can do this."

Your encouragement renews his spirit. He lifts up a fist. “I’ll get it this time for sure.”

Easily gets side tracked from the main quest and wants to explore every nook and cranny. Collectables and achievements? This might be the first time Xavier stays awake because he’s getting a one-hundred percent completion rate. 

Questions the survivability of the main character and the realism of the situation.

How can drinking medicine instantaneously cure the character’s wounds? How is the character still walking after being bitten in the leg? Beings from a different planet don’t actually look like this you know…

𝑹𝑨𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑳

You’re playing an indie game set in an abandoned mansion. The main character has inherited this house from their grandfather, who was a wealthy collector of occult art pieces.

He wants to be in-charge of all the controls and lets you cuddle against his side. You observe his gameplay like you're watching a movie. 

Tries his best to maintain his composure to show you just how calm, cool and collected he can be. However, he ends up jumping around every corner he turns.

He either moves really slowly because he can’t stand not knowing where the phantoms are lurking, or will charge straight in to get it over and done with. 

“This doesn’t scare me. I’m just being cautious,” he’ll say defensively, leaning into your shoulder more as he slowly moves the controls to pan the camera around the empty room. His efforts are futile as the phantom zooms past the open door behind the character, accompanied by a piercing sound cue.

Rafayel’s shriek drowns out yours, as your scream swiftly turns into a fit of laughter. 

“Your scream scared me more-” your words come out in bits and pieces between your cackles, “than the actual jumpscare!" 

He’s red in the face, offended by how amused you were at his suffering.

“My life is in mortal danger, and you’re laughing at me?!” He tries to stay indignant, but he can’t help but crack a smile at how lost in laughter you are. 

Has a genuine appreciation for the art direction of the game. He loves how atmospheric it is and compliments the stylistic choices. He actually chose this game just because the reviews raved about how good the visuals were. 

“This is a nice house, like look at all this antique decor. You think we could live in a place like this someday?” You shiver. “A haunted mansion infested with ghosts? I think I’ll pass…”

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters in the Hunger Games

As requested by @sweetteaanddragons :)

I haven't read or watched Hunger Games, but I've picked up enough through cultural osmosis...I hope. They're kids in an arena fighting to the death, right? And it's a media circus? And there are 12 districts? And they're poor? I think I got it! Anyway, let's stick Cosmere characters in that arena and see how they do!

By the way, for the most part I'm imagining these characters in their own separate hunger games, not all together, just because I didn't want to imagine all of my blorbos killing each other.

1. Kaladin

After a kid who looks just like Tien literally dies in Kaladin's arms (note: all of the kids look exactly like Tien so far as Kaladin is concerned), Kaladin realizes that the Hunger Games are about kids dying, not about kids surviving. He decides that he has to save everyone, and quickly builds a coalition with the other tributes. They all die anyway and Kaladin wins.

He's not happy about it.

2. Shallan

Sadly, Shallan dies while trying unsuccessfully to convince a stick to become fire. Technically, I think this means the stick wins, but they give the award to some kid instead, for some reason.

3. Adolin

Adolin was doing really well until FOUR other tributes all decided to gang up on him. Even then, he fought like an uncaged tiger and very nearly survived. Nearly. (Hey, uh, most characters die in Hunger Games, right?)

4. Vin

Vin slices through the competition like a vengeful god. Emphasis on vengeful. And god. She barely even lets herself get distracted by the weird love triangle between that guy who wants to make the world better and the one who wants to burn it all down. She's too busy, like, killing everyone.

5. Zane

Zane thinks it's pretty swell to be in this killing arena killing people. What isn't swell is that Vin isn't into him, even AFTER their romantic killing spree. What gives? Anyway. Vin kills him.

6. Elend

Elend has a lot of thoughts about the sociological implications of the games. He does not have a lot of thoughts about how to sharpen a stick into a crude spear and ram it through someone's chest. (Is that what happens in the Hunger Games?) Regardless, I don't think he makes it long... Sorry, Elend.

7. Spook

Spook is a wraith. No one ever sees him coming. Or sees him at all. He keeps receiving supplies and weapons from a mysterious benefactor. At one point he starts wearing a handkerchief over his eyes and killing people by sound alone. I don't really see him winning, tbh (sorry Spook), but he is definitely a crowd favorite who makes it super far.

8. Szeth

"To kill innocent children for the amusement of distant viewers blackens my soul with a stain that shall never be removed. Oh, how I hate this. Oh, how I hate this senseless, senseless killing," Szeth thinks to himself as he constructs an unnecessarily elaborate death trap that kills his opponents horribly. "No one suffers like me," Szeth thinks, over all of the screaming.

9. Renarin

Hey remember when Renarin killed a Thunderclast mostly off-screen? Plus he has future sight. If they've got their powers in this game, then Radiant Renarin is probably taking it all. If not, well...let's not go there.

10. Vivenna

After her sister is sent as a tribute in Vivenna's place, Vivenna enters the Hunger Games anyway, determined to somehow put a stop to them. For example, she takes all the food she can find and hides it in one place so that it will be safe for everyone. She figures out how to predict supply drops to ensure that she always gets to them first. While convinced that she is the Hunger Games Breaker, she is actually the season's most notorious villain and eventually everyone bands together to kill her. Sorry, Vivenna.

11. Kelsier

Kelsier wins the hearts of viewers everywhere, mostly due to his determination to keep smiling no matter what horrors he must survive. He's, like, really good at killing people also. The Survivor, people call him. But when he is shockingly cut down and killed, his death galvanizes a rebellion against, uh, President Snow? Is that the big bad? Anyway. There's a religion about him now.

12. Ann

Oh, Ann. So excited to shoot guns. (Do they have guns?) So excited to shoot bows and arrows maybe. But she can't shoot worth a damn. She has a splendid time and hits no one. And, well, she does not win.

13. Cord

Frankly, Cord wants to win and bring glory and money (?) back home to her people, who desperately need it. I'm assuming the districts get stuff if their person wins. Cord is in it to win it. And she's awfully good with that bow and arrow...

14. Lift

Man, I don't want Lift to be in the Hunger Games! Lift thinks killing is lazy and boring! Sure, she'd be great at hiding in trees and getting food, but I definitely do not see Lift actually being able to kill anyone. Is that allowed? Will she be disqualified?

15. Tress

Tress looks at the Death Arena Whose Purpose Is Death and says, "But is anyone gonna Make Friends about it" and doesn't wait for an answer. Somehow, by the end, basically everyone IS friends. Except for that one person who really did want to kill. But she and Tress went off together and only Tress returned. So.

Basically, Tress's influence ruins the Hunger Games that year. Nobody wants the Friendship Games.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Do you have any recommendations for games in the western genre? Or western fantasy/sci-fi? Absolutely can’t get enough of the combination of cowboys and six shooters, steampunk, and magic fantasy. I’m considering writing my own setting for DnD5E that combines these elements.

Theme: Fantastic Westerns

Friend, I think I've collected a real tight bunch of winners here, so I'm confident you'll find something that really scratches that itch you've got!

Wicked West, by Finch Edmund.

Wicked West is a PbtA game by Finch Edmund (they/them) about paranormal cowboys. It combines classic monsters with the backdrop of the old west and is meant to be played with at least two players with one player taking the role of Game Master. Wicked West is made to tell stories similar to the westerns of the 1940s-1960s about small towns and the struggles of life with a horror twist.

If you like combining monsters with your westerns, this is the game for you. It looks like you combine a couple of different options to make your character playbook, which is something I’m personally pretty jazzed about when it comes to creating characters. One interesting thing about Wicked West is the relationship your cowboy has with their horse: a vampire might feed off of their steed, while a witch can cast spells on their horse to run faster. If you don't mind a bit of a horror flavor to your Western, this might be the game for you.

Wizards of the Wild West, by ckellyrpg.

Wizards of the Wild West is an action-oriented TTRPG that combines fantasy magic with classic Wild West themes. It is powered by the LUMEN system, and takes heavy inspiration from looter-shooter games such as Destiny.

LUMEN is still a game that I’m excited to try out, so seeing it tagged onto a western game about wizards made me take a second look. This is a game for a raucous good time; you’ll be pulling off sweet character combos, with easy-to-understand breakdowns of each character class. Right now the game is still in development, but it’s still considered playable, so if you get it now it might have more content for you down the road!

We Deal in Lead, by Odin’s Beard.

You look to those closest to you, fellow gunslingers of the Order of the King. The arduous trek across the bleached desert is over and now you stand before a slip door. Though tested, the fellowship of your Order stands true.

You grasp the worn sandalwood grip of your artefact gun and twist open the door. You gasp as the sharp sea air hits your lungs. Gulls caw and the foam sprays your face like a baptism. You step through to another reality.

After all, there are other worlds than these.

We Deal In Lead comes highly recommended to me by folks who like the OSR scene. It’s based off of Cairn, a well-beloved fantasy system, and if you got the TTRPGs for Trans Rights in Florida bundle, you already have a copy!

The setting is meant to be somewhat post-apocalyptic, but the barriers between your world and others are thin, causing threats (and allies) from other dimension to have a chance to enter your world. The game focuses on combat, exploration and survival, and it’s almost completely compatible with anything released for Cairn.

If you like what you see so far with this game, you might also want to check out Omega City, a weird west city setting, still in ashcan form.

Vampire Cowboys, by Maddy Searle.

You are a gang of outlaws in the Wild West. You have a lot to contend with: enemy gangs, law enforcement, wild animals, and… did I mention? You’re also vampires. You must figure out how to survive in this harsh land, where “justice” is often swift and violent. Will you blend in with the crowd, and hide your vampiric side in an attempt to live as a gun-toting cowboy? Or will you give in to your monstrous urges and use your supernatural powers, making yourself known as a vampire? It’s entirely up to you. 

This game premise is simple and easy to describe: you are vampires who are also cowboys. You live in a world where everything wants you dead, and you’re constantly fighting the parts of you that make you monstrous. The mechanics are very familiar if you’ve every come across a Lasers & Feelings game: a couple pages to read and you’re off to the races, ready to play.

Reboot Hill, by Groovy Dad Games.

REBOOT HILL is a sci-fi Western TTRPG set in the "Future West" of the far flung Hill-Ceballos System. When a war back on Earth results in a cyber-attack that frees all of the bots in the Hill-Ceballos, things go bad for the humans right quick. In the aftermath, bots have got to rely on their shooting irons and their processors to make their way in this new, post-human frontier. 

REBOOT HILL is a card-driven tabletop role-playing game in which players portray "Aces"--bots with advanced AI that find themselves on the right or wrong side of the law. 

Finally, a space western! Here’s a card-based game with a plethora of character options, including mechanical upgrades, as well as weapons and vehicles. You’re mainly going to be bounty hunters, chasing after varmints and villains so that you can scrape together a living. If you want a game whose game mechanics make you feel liked you’re sitting at a poker table, you should check out Reboot Hill.

Clink, by Technical Grimoire.

Clink is a tabletop RPG about drifters, the creeds that bring them together, and the history that drives them apart. This game uses coins to tell a story inspired by spaghetti westerns, ronin tales, and shows like Firefly or Supernatural.

Characters begin as rough sketches of the shifty sort you’d see in an old Western or Noir film. They all start as blank slates, their histories unknown. Tell stories about their past and create your character as you play.

I’m a big fan of Technical Grimoire, especially their expertly-designed Troika setting, Bones Deep. Clink isn’t Troika - it uses coins as a storytelling mechanic - but it’s very setting-flexible, as seen in the variety of the starting scenarios provided.

The game is also non-linear: throughout play your characters will experience flashbacks, which will help flesh out who they are as you play, and tell us something about who they used to be. You’ll start the game with two coins, which you can spend to gain a flashback, but you can also flip them to try and succeed at various tasks. As you play, you’ll also gain coins using a mechanic called a Trigger - bad habits that get them into trouble.

If you want a fresh set of rules to play around with in a flexible setting that stays true to the woes of outlaws and other Western tropes, I heavily recommend Clink.

Boondock Cartomancy, by Hookline & Sinker.

The consequences of westward expansion rear their head. Desolate, inhospitable, and unpredictable - the Outbacks are a ravaged desert, a wild tundra, an ancient tomb. Host to a plethora of unknown variables and formed from the corpses of failure, it’s a hotbed for the lawless, the corrupt, and the lost. Conditions for growing a corporate empire couldn’t be more ideal.

BOONDOCK CARTOMANCY is a tabletop roleplaying game about personal growth in a cruel and inhospitable wasteland, backlit with Western cowboys wielding powerful and unpredictable magic. It’s a game about reflecting upon the world and systems of exploitation we live in, and using ancient spells to blow up a caravan of criminals in a climactic shootout. It’s a game about interfacing with the human condition, and feeling cool as shit while doing it.

This game looks so cool! You are brokers, going on dangerous jobs in a hostile frontier, giving your characters objectives to complete while also exploring the way colonialism forces so many folks to act as simply cogs in a larger, uncaring machine. The game also gives you a fantasy to explore, by granting your characters card-based magic skills, and replacing their hit points with a luck meter. The game itself also has a really clever layout, presenting itself like an old-fashioned newspaper, with pieces of advertisements sprinkled throughout to give you bits of lore about the world. All in all, definitely worth checking out.

Former Rec Posts to Check Out

Rootin’, Tootin’ and Shootin.

Space Westerns.

[corpupine]

I've been doing a lot of thinking...and I feel like I need to scream this out somehow even though I'm sure it's been talked about before (and I'm putting it under a readmore because it gets long).

No matter what, in any playthrough you do and any timeline you create.

UNDERTALE is a game about guilt.

You have Toriel, so guiltridden she couldn't protect her own children that she devotes herself to never letting another child leave again. And then they do!! over and over again, that guilt compounds until it's the center of her life and every choice she makes!!

And obviously Asgore, so guiltridden that he couldn't protect his own children from humans that he spends the rest of his days trying to get out and get revenge on them--as if that will stop the voices in his head saying, if you had been out there with them you could have stopped it, you could have stopped those humans from killing your children, and maybe he could have!! Or maybe not!! He'll never know and it eats him from the inside out!

Alphys, oh my sweet summer child this fandom does not deserve you!! Alphys, so guiltridden from her own perceived failures as a scientist that she began to try anything, anything to make the King happy, and it seemed to be working at first, and then it was so everlastingly worse, how can you cause something worse than death?? without even trying??

And it shows up in little ways, silly ways, too! Ways you wouldn't even think about as guilt! Undyne! She feels guilty that she won't let Papyrus join the Royal Guard so she gives him cooking lessons instead! Papyrus feels guilty that he's not in love with you after one date so he'll "keep being your cool friend and act like this never happened!"

SANS MY BOI don't even get me started. His guilt isn't as physically obvious but he made a promise to toriel, he promised her he would keep the human safe, and in timelines where you save everyone he follows you pretty much all throughout the Underground (even if he doesn't do anything to help smh) because he'd feel guilty not doing it, and in timelines where you kill everyone he feels guilty for not stopping you, AND in those SAME timelines he feels guilty for stopping you because it means he's breaking his promise to Toriel to keep you safe I!!! This boy can fit so much cosmic guilt in him!!!!

Asriel! FLOWEY!! Do you ever wonder if he feels guilty about being the one to wake up again? The one to survive, when Chara had to die twice?? He sits at their grave and he will do anything, anything to drown out those thoughts so he befriends and kills and torments and it's all the same and it's all useless!!

And their guilt compounds each others'! Toriel makes Sans make that promise because of her own guilt, which increases his! Asgore's guilt is what pushes Alphys so far past the limits of ethical science, because he increases hers!

And all of this, all of this, ALL OF THIS pales in comparison to you!!!

You!! The player! You return to the Underground after maybe accidentally killing Toriel or a few others because you didn't know, you never wanted to hurt them!! You listen to Flowey and you come back and you save them all!

You! The player!!! You cry at the ending and you'd feel guilty, so guilty about letting them all go, wouldn't you? So you ignore Flowey's pleas to let it alone, and you come back again, you say hello to your dear friends but this time it isn't the same, this time you kill them all because you want to see everything this game has to offer, might as well get your money's worth, the fights are cool, right?? And then you get hit with the most unsatisfying atomic bomb of an ending and the only thing left is your own reflection staring back at you from the black screen of your computer as the horror dawns, what have you done???

YOU!!! The player! You go back again even though there is no Flowey left to tell you to, and you save them all again because I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, nobody deserves what I did to all of you, and it's all good, nobody remembers, and then you get to the end. The game knows what you did!!! It never forgot, and it'll make certain you never forget either!! Guilt!! Guilt, guilt!!! It's baked into the code of this game!!

Anyways tl;dr, maybe it actually did make sense to give this game to the pope

[stop-talking]

How do you think jhutch characters would handle a baby?

I'm not quite sure if you're asking "what would they do if you handed them a baby" or "what would they do if you told them you're pregnant" but I'm gonna assume you meant the latter. (feel free to send another request if I got it wrong)

Ranking Jhutch characters from worst to best fathers:

Billy

☆ Would play dumb when you hand him the pregnancy test.

☆ "What's this? Oh, you're pregnant? Can't be mine. My pull-out game is too strong." (literally has NO pull-out game, refuses to use condoms because he "can't feel" with them on)

☆ Basically ghosts you until the paternity test proves it's his. Then he actually ghosts you.

☆ Drops off the face of the fucking Earth for years. Doesn't pay a dime in child support.

☆ Maybe he comes back like 3 years later drunk and demanding to see "his" kid idk. Literally the worst.

Derek

☆ Honestly I headcannon he had a vasectomy at like 24-25.

☆ His mom hit him up once she heard about his prostitute scandals and chewed him out. Gave him "the talk" even though he's a grown ass man... finally got him to get snipped when she brought up the possibility of paying income-based child support for 18 years.

☆ Assuming he doesn't have one, though...

☆ He'd initially be mad and blame you. "I thought you were on the pill!!"

☆ Then he'd be like "Is it too late to... you know... get rid of it?" (and kind of dance around the subject because he's too much of a wimp to just say the word abortion)

☆ Wallace and his mom would both force him to get his shit together and apologize. Eventually he'd come to terms with the fact he's gonna be a dad.

☆ He'd be the kind of bastard to throw an over-the-top gender reveal party. The kind that burns down half of California or pollutes a major water channel.

☆ I think he'd be a really good girl dad. He'd let her paint his nails and stuff. Spoil her. <3

☆ He would treat a son completely differently. Teach him to "be a man" or whatever when he's still learning to walk. Force him into random ass sports.

☆ He'd have them mostly taken care of by a nanny. That's probably how he was raised, anyways. Derek Danforth is NOT changing a diaper.

Futturman

☆ Whether we're talking pre-show or post-show, he'd freak the fuck out if you handed him a positive pregnancy test. I'm talking full-on pass out.

☆ Pre-show Josh would be like "Babe we can NOT afford a baby I literally live at home with my parents and work as a janitor."

☆ His parents would be so crazy supportive though. They've been hinting that they want grandkids for YEARS.

☆ They literally clear out a room IMMIDEATELY after hearing the news and offer it to you to use as a nursery.

☆ His mom buys you more baby clothes than you could possibly need. His dad builds a crib from scratch.

☆ Overall Josh is stressed asf but he does his best to be there for you, and his parents are OVERWHELMIGLY supportive.

☆ Post-show Josh, on the other hand, doesn't have that support. But he's survived unspeakable horrors across multiple dimensions, how hard could a baby be?

☆ Extremely hard, apparently. One day he just loses it and makes a huge decision without asking you.

☆ "Josh WTF happened to our savings??"

☆ "TRUST ME BABE we need to invest in Apple!!"

☆ You're pissed but it pays off in a few years and you're both able to live comfortably.

☆ Then in 2015-ish he did the same thing again, pouring all your savings into bitcoin. This time you SWEAR you're going to leave him, but it all pays out in the end. He gets your kid through college with that money.

☆ Overall he's a really good father, too. He had great parents, and even if he's not experienced with kids, he's naturally a very caring and attentive person.

Mike

☆ Cries when he sees the pregnancy test. He's not even sure if it's happy or sad tears.

☆ Gets sick to his stomach overthinking about how he's going to be a terrible father. His dad walked out on him, so he has literally no idea how to act.

☆ Abby, on the other hand, is absolutely delighted. She's always wanted a "little sister". Mike has to remind her that technically it's her niece. Or nephew. There's no guarantee on the gender yet.

☆ Eventually he comes to terms with it all. He's taken care of Abby for ten years, he isn't completely clueless.

☆ Takes you to all of your Dr.'s appointments, checkups, etc. Holds your hand. Makes all of your weird pregnancy cravings and doesn't judge.

☆ After the birth, he lets you rest. Nearly works himself to death trying to take care of the baby all on his own because he wants you to recover.

☆ I'm talking getting up bleary-eyed at 2am every night to microwave some formula and feed the baby. After working a 10 hour shift.

☆ Pulls the "I have a baby on the way" card at work in an attempt to get a raise. It works, thankfully. (In the novel version of the movie; it says he gets a job as a contractor at the end. So hopefully he can afford a kid...)

----------♡----------

[Remember: these are just MY headcannons. If you think differently that's fine. I didn't include Clapton because he's literally in highschool... and we all know Peeta is an amazing father.]

[neruro]

VOD 01 - one viewer, and that's me on a different device!

first time chatter...? | scara x reader smau

Minecraft launched, alerts on, your phone beside you.

You would be okay! Thinking back at your friends’ words... You would continue to do your best! Even if no one comes, all you had to do was gain confidence and keep going until someone does!

After a moment of hesitation, you pressed the button, tabbing over to the game.

"Welcome to the stream, everyone!" You said. "I'm Catatouille, and I hope my stream will make you all happy today!"

Glancing over to your phone, you saw the symbol for one viewer, fueling on your hope. Someone was watching! Then... You had to do your best to make them smile–

Oh.

Right, it was from your phone.

'That's okay,' you thought to yourself as you started to collect wood. 'I'm a new streamer... So I'll just have fun!'

There was no mistaking how excited you were to start this journey of yours. But grandpa Xiao would definitely tell you that growth would be slow... So patience would be key!

Yes, patience...

Haha...

You turned your attention to the game in front of you. You would have fun! It was all in good fun, right?

But then!

The world slowed down. First, you felt the dread as you hear the sound of footsteps. Then the horror as you see it emerge from the shadows, running from the unlit part of the cave. You would begin to think. Regret. Contemplate why you didn’t craft a shield before this expedition. You frantically tried to defend yourself, hitting just shy outside of the hitbox. And then you hear the sound of getting hit, your character falling, being thrown into lava behind you. Then, to the sound of your character burning, the story of how you got all your stuff flashing before your eyes. When you discovered the amethyst cave, how you found the vein of five diamonds, the music disc you found from a dungeon, you see your hearts go down, and so does the time, your hope for the future playthrough of this game. And when you’re on the death screen, it finally sinks in. Your stuff is gone, your levels are reset. You are alone—

Catatouille tried to swim in lava to escape Baby Zombie.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something move in the chat box.

You couldn't respond for a moment at the whiplash of feelings. Yes, you wanted to cry, curse the world for bringing you a baby zombie of all things, and the annoying words from chat didn't help at all... but also...!

A chatter! A real one! And not the random bots you saw in the viewers tab!

"Welcome to the stream, Scaramouche!" You said, forgetting your previous annoyances for just a moment. "Hope your day is going well!"

“Yep!” You said, giddy with the thought of having your first fan. “Will do!”

"I'm not rage quitting!" You insist, exiting your survival world and quitting to the main menu. "Not because of something so trivial! I'm going to keep on persevering until I beat the Ender Dragon, mind you!"

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. At least this stream has been going well! A chatter that stuck with you... Luck was in your favor! Except the fact that your friends never showed up... But they'd probably embarass you in some way... Hm.

"Anyway... Thanks for showing up, Scaramouche... And any other lurkers watching," you said with a smile, even though you didn't have a webcam on. "I’m going to keep on trying to be a steamer you can be proud of, don't worry! And my next stream is tomorrow, so try to watch it if you can!"

first time chatter...?

masterlist || prev || next

✧˚ ·summary - tada! a new streamer (aka: you!) entered the scene! and what's this? your first regular chatter accompanying you to fame? great! and you're both becoming friends? even better! ... eh? what... what do you mean he has over a million followers? and what does he mean by 'do you remember me!?'

taglist is open (thank you guys, bold means I can’t tag you!) - @maxineshearts @magica-ren @drmyday @haunts-gh0st @featuredtofu @yyyyiijhth @hiraethsdesires @mellowberrie @meigalaxy @idontevenknow129 @beriiov @sakiimeo @karma-gisa

author's note - unrelated but kafka. i have her. did her companion mission. she is my mother now. thank you for supporting me~ get a whole lot of rest!

[wheeboo]

seventeen as games they would play on roblox

FEATURING. seventeen (ot13) GENRE. headcanons, crack WORD COUNT. 552 

notes: this is purely just for shits and giggles. ty @haecien for sparking the idea on discord and @yeonjuns-redhair for helping me LMAO. i was such a roblox nerd back then pls don't question me thank u. this game traumatized me fr.

scoups - mm2/arsenal/phantom forces: bro would be such a try hard whenever he becomes murderer or sheriff in mm2. he would also own like all the damn legendary knives, guns, knife effects, prob has hella robux and connections to get all those, might also play obnoxious audios on his radio to assert dominance. arsenal and phantom forces is self-explainable since he's pretty good at fps games

jeonghan - brookhaven/free admin games: is definitely trolling and scaring people on brookhaven or any roleplay game lmfao. would pretend to be their child just for him to turn his avatar into the most terrifying monster ever and make people rage quit. he'd easily take over those games that grant free admin, literally everyone would be under his fingers

joshua - royale high: shua was hard since he doesn't rlly play video games? he would def not be into these competitive games. i can see him having fun dressing up his avatar in royale high for some reason. would prob lowkey be an annoying troll, or those rich ass mfs constantly showing off

jun - adopt me: self-explanatory. the top of his bucket list is to adopt all pets possible in the game. might even find ways to scam people out of their stuff (my cousin does this, don't be like her).

hoshi - jailbreak: he likes chaotic games. he brings chaos to the server. tries to also bribe woozi into playing with him so they can both be the Richest Lads in the server. either that or he absolutely sucks at playing the game and keeps getting arrested by the police.

wonwoo - tower of hell/dungeon quest/arsenal/doors: can't really decide on one. he's pretty versatile with his games but i think he mainly prefers battle strategy games and fighting games. would definitely complete a tower of hell obby in less than a minute fr. is probably on the leaderboard of dungeon quest and has all the legendary spells, armour, and weapons. he's also completely fine with anything horror

woozi - those anime sims n fighting games/death ball/robeats: personally i have never played any of those anime fighting games ever but he would def be the one to enjoy them the most. will def beat your ass in death ball with his gigantic double wielded swords. he'd also continuously get hella high scores on robeats

dk - work at a pizza place: no explanation needed. he is living his life as a cook and delivery person

mingyu - theme park tycoon/natural disaster survival: i found mingyu to be hard as well LMAO. i feel like he could make a bomb ass theme park in theme park tycoon tho. either that or he's getting freaked out over the blocky tsunami coming his way

minghao - bloxburg/royale high/those fashion games: ahh he's living his life designing his perfect dream home and definitely has all the gamepasses. has the best fashion in royale high. would definitely spend his robux to get VIP so he can get access to the Better clothes in those fashion games (fun fact: i'm banned on bloxburg cuz i'm just too damn good 😔)

seungkwan - pls donate/works in a group: has the prettiest booth in pls donate so he can get robux but is constantly arguing with the nine year olds who are begging for him to donate to them. might also be an MR/HR/SR at a group (don't work at roblox groups guys, i beg of you)

vernon - bee swam simulator: no thoughts, just vernon playing bee swarm simulator being the best thing ever

dino - speed run: constantly frustrated over each time he falls off the map. he never makes it to the end

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9

[jeonride]

two kittens

SUMMARY; you are also a kitten to wonwoo

FEATURING; wonwoo x gn!reader

TAGS; fluff, established relationship, non-idol au, gamer boyfriend!wonwoo x gamer gn!reader, wonwoo as a dad cat <3 and reader is also a cat lover !

WORD COUNT; 1.7 K

WARNINGS; mentions of being killed by a knife (because wonwoo and reader are playing horror game here), use of pet names (baby, kitten), some kisses on the cheek !

NOTES FROM KALA; write this after i just watched his latest gaming live yesterday and found these two clips on my tl > click ! another click ! he has that black cat bf energy AGFSWSSSKLD ㅠㅠ and also because i've been playing the texas chainsaw massacre lol

jeonride's masterlist / join the taglist here !

Wonwoo looks excited to play his game, his eyes glued to the computer screen. He's playing a horror game called "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" which is adapted from a movie. Wonwoo has wanted to play it for a long time and he feels lucky that you invited him to play together. Small things like inviting him to play a game can make Wonwoo feel happy because it means he can spend time with you, while doing his hobby.

"Baby, be careful! The grandfather has dangerous skills!" says Wonwoo. So on this game, there are survivors and there is a family. This family consists a grandfather and his two grandchildren, and then the leatherface as villain. Well, they're all villains actually, murderers. And the grandfather has special skill— every time he screams, the survivors who are hiding will be detected and his two grandchildren and the leatherface are in charge of killing them.

But don't worry, you really don't have to because Wonwoo says, as long as you stay still and don't move when the grandfather screams, you won't be detected. Except in the final level. Ugh, the final level is really hard and you always lose. Luckily Wonwoo is always there to help you. Protecting you and giving you directions on what to do, and telling you where to hide.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." Wonwoo says as you scream between excitement and fear as leatherface chases you, wanting to kill the character you're playing.

"Please please please I don't want to die! I want to end this game with my boyfriend!" you ramble while your hands aggressively clicking your mouse and the keyboard.

Wonwoo chuckles while adjusting his glasses. He turns his head to take a look at your face. You are so expressive and it warms Wonwoo's heart. Adorable.

"Hide at the basement, baby. I will open the back door first so you can run easily, yeah?"

You nod, eyes staring at the screen like it's your last chance to live. You're getting scared even though it's just a game but Wonwoo strokes your shoulder softly. "We can finish this together. Just keep running, baby. I got your back. I'm right behind you."

Unfortunately, while you're running, the killer is right in front of the door. Your character is immediately caught, killed with a knife. You scream, "AAAA NO! WE ALMOST MADE IT, WON!"

Wonwoo laughs, his laugh sounds so endearing and it makes your anger doesn't stay longer, though. "That's okay. You did very well at surviving. I'm proud, tho. Good game!"

You just exhale heavily. Then you remove your headphones from your ears. Wonwoo glances over, "Don't want to play anymore?"

"I'm tired." You grin. "I'll just watch you play games." You turn off your computer again, now moving closer to Wonwoo's computer. You and Wonwoo's computer desks are placed side by side because you both like to play games. To make it easier to strategize while playing games and of course because playing games next to your boyfriend is so much fun!

"If you're tired, just rest your body on the bed." Wonwoo massages his fingers for a moment, feeling sore from playing three rounds with you. It's been an hour and you guys haven't had lunch yet. "I'll continue a bit more and we'll have lunch together, okay?"

"Okay!" you reply enthusiastically, smiling cheerfully. Wonwoo smiles too, he ruffles your hair gently then kisses your cheek. Then the new game starts, and he's back to looking seriously at his computer screen.

You walk over to the bed, laying your body down because of the soreness in your back. Your eyes look around your shared bedroom. Looking for something. "Princess?" you call. "Princess, where are you?"

"Look under our bed, she likes to sleep there." Wonwoo responses to your call looking for his kitten.

Wonwoo has a kitten, a white furred kitten that he named Princess because he didn't know what to name her at that time right after he adopted her. Wonwoo said, "It's okay. Princess is what she looks like." Indeed, that kitten acts like a total princess who loves to be pampered and doesn't want to be told to play outside. Her fur is so soft, and well-groomed. The way she walks is also graceful, just like a princess!

You get up from the bed and peek underneath. Sure enough, you can see a white blob of fur, Princess is asleep, curled up until her body looks like a snowball. You smile, Princess is so adorable and lovable. When you first meet her, you immediately love her as if she were your own cat. Wonwoo even used Princess as an excuse to meet you because your boyfriend knows that you love his cat so much.

"Come here, furball!" you reach for the white feline's body. She doesn't react, just wriggles a little in your arms. Then you lay back down on the bed, half leaning on the headboard while Princess rests on your chest.

"Aw, so cute. Won, look at your baby!"

Wonwoo smiles, and he tries to reciprocate your words by turning to you briefly even though his game character is in crisis, being chased by the leatherface. "She's adorable, like you."

"How can there's such a cute creature like this?" you start talking to yourself, telling Wonwoo's cat the fairy tales of your childhood like Peter Pan and Sleeping Beauty, as if she understands what you're saying and even if she doesn't, just having Princess being comfortable in your arms is enough.

On the other side, Wonwoo is playing the game seriously, his fingers moving so fast to avoid the killer. But his ears are focused on listening to your ramblings, making his face continue to display a sincere smile even though it looks like he's about to lose. "A-ah, no!"

And sure enough, it isn't long before Wonwoo lost because he is no longer focused on playing the game. His character is killed by leatherface. He starts to feel tired and wants to have lunch with you, then cuddle together with Princess in the middle of the two of you.

"Baby, what do you wanna have for—" Wonwoo's words is cut short because when he looks back at you, you are already asleep with Princess in your arms. Your mouth opened slightly, letting out a soft exhale. The sight of you sleeping with the kitten makes Wonwoo's smile grows wider. He had no idea that your interaction with his kitten can make him fall so deeply in love. Making his heart melt like honey.

Wonwoo takes off his headphones, ends his gaming agenda and slowly walking towards you. His big hand gently strokes the top of your head, as if you're a fragile creature that he must treat with care.

"Kitten," he whispers as he gazes at your peacefully sleeping face. You look so peaceful and sound, even though you were just playing a game with Wonwoo a few minutes ago. He takes his phone out of his pants pocket and quietly snap a picture of you sleeping while hugging Princess.

He giggles while looking at the photo. "My kittens taking a nap together. How cute,"

© jeonride 2023. all rights reserved. please do not copy, translate, plagiarize, or repost any of my writing anywhere!

[goblincow]

CATS or What Is This RPG or Setting The Table

So I just heard about CATS courtesy of the good folks in the PlusOneExp discord server. CATS was written by Patrick O'Leary for the 2016 200 Word RPG Challenge.

It's nice and short (200 words even) and it's a compelling formula for the classic What Is This TTRPG segment that warrants a page at the front of every good RPG book.

I find it particularly interesting that this is imagined as a micro-RPG in its own right, a table activity for the start of game night that sets out to address what I have always found to be the most painful aspect of playing any TTRPG (besides tedious and arcane character creation rituals – I'm looking at you 5e PHB 👀): the friction that arises from players having discordant, conflicting, contradictory or incompatible expectations during play.

We can formulate the basic strucure of CATS in a variety of ways: Concept/Aim/Tone/Subject Matter, What/Where/When/Who/Why/How, Premise/Overview/Goals/What You Need, etc. all of which can be applied in two immediate directions:

In a What Is This RPG section, these are just codified methods for teaching the player/reader (more of my thoughts on the player/reader here) how to read and communicate everything that comes next in a way that's both more focused than a blurb (which might basically constitute the Concept/Premise/Hook) and more comprehensive than an elevator pitch.

As a launchpad for table play, these structures guide the conversation to establish the pillars of the shared fiction, and I especially appreciate CATS for the fact that it ends on Subject Matter. It could be the consequence of a tortured acronym, but having set the stage in every other way it seems appropriate to hop into safety tools as the final as the final negotiation before play, once all context is provided but nothing is yet set in stone.

That's all he wrote on CATS.

In THE PERILOUS PEAR & PLUM PIES OF PUDWICK I wrote a conversation guide to the meat of the adventure on pg. 11, following an introductory segment of the game that functions as a session 1 prologue of sorts before delving into the hexflower "dungeon" microsetting, inciting incident et al. It's interesting for me to look back at the way I structured this from the perspective of CATS.

If you're curious about TPPAPPOP and want a sneak peak of what you can expect, here's that segment from pg. 11, Inside The Tree:

Resources: the insects of the tree live in darkness and have varying weird diets – you might decide that tracking resources like light and food is important, or maybe at this scale adventurers can survive on the honeydew, leaves and strange meats that the insects eat. Sights and Sounds: footsteps might sound like earthquakes, voices like distant thunder. What are the twitches and mannerisms of the chittering language of insects? How does artificial light disturb the denizens of the tree? Setting and Tone: to adjust the game to your group's preference, you might lean into the existential conflict of intruding on and potentially dooming these fledgling societies, or downplay the crawling horror of an insect world to allow its cuter side to shine through.

[luveline]

so im someone who isn’t quick to understand things and when i do its a big deal for me and for some reason my friends “reward” me by patting my head bUT IDGAF IT FEELS NICE-

could you write something about that with eddie please?

thats so cute :D

"You guys better mark your calendars for next Friday. It's gonna be a big one," Eddie tells the group. 

Immediately there's a small uproar of excited chatter and high fiving. You turn to Eddie where he's sitting in the diner booth next to you and try to suss out what national holiday it'll be next Friday. It's too early for thanksgiving and about a week too late for Halloween. 

"Dustin's gonna print the new character sheets for anyone that needs one after the great Sinclair disaster," Eddie's saying, to Dustin's complete horror. 

"I did them last time."

"And you're so good at it," Eddie croons. 

Another wave of giggling begins, this one teasing. Lucas had knocked somebody's water bottle over and botched half the 'equipment'. Your character sheet had survived despite the odds – not everyone had been so lucky – but a new one at the start of a campaign was always nice. 

"Oh," you say. "We're starting the new campaign?" 

Your excitement is for two things – to be on the same page as everybody else and to start Eddie's new adventure. He's been working hard on it, and you've had some hints on the coming story.

Eddie turns to you at first with a blank expression not dissimilar to your own a few moments ago and then what's unmistakably pride, bringing a ring heavy hand to your head. 

"Right, angel," he says, patting your head. "So write it down on your calendar, okay? The 15th." 

"Right," you agree, eyes shuttering gently at his touch. 

"Awesome." He strokes your forehead.

Eddie drops his hand to your shoulder and leaves it there, pulled into another plight from Dustin to shirk printing duties.

"I printed them last time. It cost seven dollars," Dustin says. "Why don't you print them?" 

"I'm too busy preparing for the game, man." 

"Too busy doing something." 

"Hey, quit with the attitude, dusty," Eddie snips. 

You open your eyes fully, again turning to Eddie. "Something being me, yeah?" 

Eddie squeezes your shoulder and leans in with a smile that feels secret, like an in-joke between the two of you. "Something being you," he agrees in a murmur. You grin. 

[torturedpoetemotions]

Rereading The Hunger Games trilogy due to the whole THG Renaissance going on over on Tiktok and I'm a quarter of the way through Mockingjay and my god, Katniss does not give herself enough credit!

And not in the usual YA "oh I'm so plain and average" protagonist way, either. For Katniss, it's that she's completely convinced she's a terrible, ruthless person who uses people and thinks of them like they're game pieces and doesn't feel for other people the way she should.

But she's lived her entire life in deprivation and constant danger, nearly starving to death before she was thirteen years old and then being forced to risk her life daily to be the primary provider for her family afterward. Not to mention the yearly horror of the reapings and the games, always knowing the children dying could be her. Or her sister.

And then her worst nightmare comes true, and she's thrust into a fight to the death where she's forced to playact being in love to survive.

And yet, throughout all this, the thing that most consistently drives Katniss's actions is compassion.

Volunteering for Prim obviously, but also the way she acts towards Rue. Partnering with her, sharing food with her, singing her to rest and burying her in flowers. Then there's the way she worries throughout the series over how her every decision will affect others: her family and friends, but also people she's never even met. Her entire friendship with Finnick in District 13.

Her bonding with the Morphlings over fingerpainting. Her guilt and sorrow over her failure to help the redheaded Avox girl, despite the fact that Katniss was herself a child in a dangerous position and could have died in the attempt. The way she later helps Bonnie and Twill, giving them her bread and showing them how to forage. Her going to bat for the other tributes when District 13 wanted them executed.

Her horror and disgust at the weapons Gale and Beatty were building, weapons that preyed on human terror and compassion to maximize casualties.

Even killing Cato, who she hated and feared, wasn't about vengeance or even survival in the end. It was an act of pure mercy.

Throughout the whole series, Katniss inner-monologues about how awful she is, often comparing herself unfavorably to Peeta and Prim, who she sees as deeply good and kind in a way she isn't. But if Katniss was truly as ruthless and unfeeling as she thinks she is, the Capitol would have actually had far less power to hurt her. It was her compassion that Snow attacked, every time. Her worry for and love of her family, her district, her friends, Peeta...even her fellow tributes. Even people she'd never met. It was her greatest strength and her biggest weakness.

[skaruresonic]

Spinning telling me about Netflixavania's impact on how CV is viewed by the mainstream reminds me of the fact that video games, for all of their advancements, still carry something of a stigma.

Particularly old games. Call me a crotchety old lady, but there's no respect for them. Not their history, their context, their legacy, or their preservation.

In addition to the revisionist narrative that "Sonic was always inconsistent" people invented in order to elevate spinoff media over the games, I'm reminded of how Silent Hill fans are now pushing this erroneous narrative that James shows little emotion because of "technical constraints," therefore erasing Team Silent's deliberate creative decisions. (Sato stated otherwise in a 2001 interview, fyi)

People will invent narratives to ingratiate their love of viddy games to the mainstream because in some capacity, games are still considered #cringe. It doesn't matter if it's an ongoing series (Sonic), a dead series (Castlevania) or a seminal work in its genre (Silent Hill), folks will still make absolute steaming horse shit up to devalue previously-lauded works. Suddenly Sonic is no longer good and has never been good. Suddenly Silent Hill 2 isn't a masterpiece or a giant of the survival horror genre; no, it's old, and therefore outdated, and the devs were only doing the best they could with what little they had, uwu poor lambs.

I literally had to stop watching a Silent Hill analyst because she too fell prey to the "technical limitations" cruft, suddenly making up flaws she'd never pointed out before for absolute bullshit reasons because she had decided to agree with the mainstream opinion that SH2 is now "obsolete" as a work of art.

I hate the ahistoricity, the revisionism. And it's so fucking xenophobic patronizing to the game devs, sending the message that despite their best efforts, they only made silly viddy games, while others are now taking the same material and elevating it to the status of Art(tm).

[ever-eilish]

hi! I'd love to see how you'd write chishiya. :)

If you don't have many ideas--maybe a simple scenario where the reader has night terrors and sleeps better with someone. So, she kinda just knocks on Chishiya's door, fully expecting him to dismiss her but he actually agrees.

If you want to turn it into smut, you do you!

Good night

chishiya x fem!reader

when sleepless nights are more common than usual, a very familiar face helps with the terror that comes when the sun goes down

author's notes: so, this is the very first imagine that l post on tumblr! I'm excited to know what you guys think about it :) thank you so much for requesting, I hope this is what you wanted!!! english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, enjoy❤️‍🩹

warnings: none! just fluff ;)

Sweat dripped from my forehead and I could feel my heart pounding in my ribcage. Tears were forming in my eyes and my breathing was. heavy. The feeling of exhaustion gnawed at me more and more, but now it was impossible to close my eyes and rest again. Ever since I arrived in this place, I have had dreams - or rather, nightmares - every night. At first, I was able to go back to sleep; but the nightmares are getting worse. What was once just a distant image of all the horrors I've experienced here, are now people screaming and running after me.

"Murderer! Murderer!" They scream as they run towards me, with disfigured faces and bloody bodies.

I can't run, it's almost like my feet betray me and refuse to move. I get up from my bed and walk towards the door. I don't have time to think straight when I stand in front of Chishiya's bedroom door; again feeling betrayed by my own feet.

My relationship with Chishiya is complicated, we don't really like each other. It all started with a stupid game, in which only he and I made it out alive. However, what should be a reason for rapprochement, has become a reason for repulsion.

I don't know exactly why, maybe he just didn't really liked me, but I know that since then we've gone into a strange spiral of competition. In which every time I come back from a game he looks at me with that look of superiority that I hate so much, and acts as if the fact that I survived another game was a surprise; obviously, I do the same to him.

I can't quite figure it out, maybe for a subconscious reason, or maybe because he's the only familiar face on the beach, but now I'm knocking on his door.

I regret my decision the moment I put it into action, after all, it was obvious that he would not open the door.

Or maybe he'd even open the door and when he looked at my face, he'd give another one of his smirks and close the door. Or maybe he would even insult me for waking him up in the middle of the night just because I needed comfort. Maybe I should just go back to my room and spend another sleepless night trapped in my own thoughts. I was going back to my room when I hear the door open.

I turn around again and see the blond-haired man's face staring at me intensely, with a questioning look. An awkward silence ensues as I stare at him wide-eyed.

"I-I..." I can't finish my sentence.

Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why the fuck did I think it would be a good idea to show up at the door of the last person who would want to be woken up by me?

"You...?" he says, raising an eyebrow and looking in my direction. His eyes showed no judgment, but rather pure confusion.

"I had a nightmare, and..." onde again, I was not able to finish my sentence "I'll just go back to my room! Sorry if I bothered you!"

I and turn to go to my room again when I feel a warm hand touch my arm.

Something about that simple touch was different, it was almost as if with just one touch, he could soothe all my demons.

"Come in" he says in an indifferent tone, giving me room to enter his room. With a little hesitation I walk towards the room.

The place smelled of cinnamon, with a slight touch of sweetness. It was organized, and somehow I felt that Chishiya's room was a good representation of his personality; cold and not so cozy, but at that moment, that was all I needed.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to lie down?" he says, walking over to his king-size bed in the middle of the room. It was only at that moment that I noticed that he wasn't wearing his usual sweatshirt, but just a black t-shirt and sweatpants of the same a color.

I walk towards his bed and sit on the right side, suddenly feeling that my fingers were much more interesting than staring at the piercing brown eyes that were looking at me curiously.

"I don't bite" he says, again in an indifferent tone, and I look in his direction, noticing that he was now lying on his back "you can lie down, you look tired"

So I do as he says and lie on my back as well, staring at the dull white ceiling. The situation should be uncomfortable, and I should be wishing I could get out of here as soon as possible, but instead, I felt comforted by the warmth emanating from the body of the man lying just inches from me, and I wondered how long it had been since I felt such comfort.

"So, nightmares, right?" he asks and turns his head in my direction

"Yes, I guess"

"And may I know why you chose to come here?" he asks me.

His tone was not accusatory, but curious. What am I supposed to answer, anyway? I'm not even sure what I'm doing here.

"I have no idea" I answer honestly, and hear a faint laugh from my side, still refusing to look into his eyes. The room is silent again and I feel him moving on the bed to turn off a simple lamp with yellowish light arranged on the small table next to him, a lamp that I didn't even notice was on.

Now, with the total darkness, I can't help but feel more comfortable, my eyes heavy. It was suddenly, so suddenly that I almost couldn't believe it, that I felt Chisiya's arm go over my shoulders and pulling me slightly closer; Now, my head is millimeters away from his chest, and his arms are clinging to me, with his hand making small circular motions on my forearm. I don't dare say anything, I just let myself relax, snuggle into his embrace and focus on the circular drawings he made with his fingers on my skin, as I feel my eyes close and my body fall into a much-needed sleep.

Maybe it's the only time l've really been able to sleep well since I've been here.

Little did I know, that this was also the only time Chishiya had been able to sleep well since arriving in this hell.

[thewinchestah]

Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby  @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation. 

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner. 

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option. 

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.��

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail.  Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic - 

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue. 

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act. 

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound. 

You hear gunshots. 

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low. 

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide. 

remember to breathe, you are not breathing. 

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe. 

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

 Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail,  and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up  in one swift motion. 

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake. 

 Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends. 

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice?  Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling. 

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence. 

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

 The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse.  You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again? 

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth.  “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that. 

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it. 

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream. 

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

 Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon  guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem. 

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid. 

 How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic. 

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much.  Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes,  whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life.  “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it. 

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

 You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive. 

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym. 

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer. 

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries. 

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you? 

You decide that he doesn’t sound like  Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming. 

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed. 

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then. 

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck. 

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game.  Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress. 

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed  with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver. 

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric. 

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action. 

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

 “Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again. 

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing. 

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence. 

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned. 

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it. 

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns. 

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him. 

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him. 

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious. 

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims,  and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you. 

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said.  He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely  as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation. 

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

 “I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief. 

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards. 

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy. 

At last, Alastor finally enters your  tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness. 

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own. 

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together. 

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core. 

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him. 

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.  

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know. 

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier. 

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him. 

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter. 

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him. 

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin. 

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes. 

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together 

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw. 

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe. 

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into. 

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

 Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer. 

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed. 

 He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again. 

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game. 

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity. 

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it. 

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream. 

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes. 

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel. 

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention. 

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you. 

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your  entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm. 

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you. 

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness. 

-

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him. 

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever. 

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream. 

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts. 

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you. 

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

-

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room. 

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

 That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin. 

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood. 

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window. 

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep. 

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside. 

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.