#like that back problem is that an area sometimes hurts and i have to pop it for it to stop hurting which clearly seems like a joint issue

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 354

Adjective: Mammoth

Noun: Library

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Mammoth: huge; pertaining or relating to a mammoth (a large extinct elephant of the Pleistocene epoch, typically hairy with a sloping back and long curved tusks)

Library: a building or room containing collections of books, periodicals, and sometimes films and recorded music for people to read, borrow, or refer to; a collection of books and periodicals held in a library; a room in a private house where books are kept; a series of books, recordings, etc., issued by the same company and similar in appearance; a collection of films, recorded music, genetic material, etc., organized systematically and kept for research or borrowing; (computing) a collection of programs and software packages made generally available, often loaded and stored on disk for immediate use

[lulu24784]

🖸 ──» south park tattoo artist au headcanons :

main 4 + butters headcanons for an upcoming fic

stan 🖸 specializes in: blackwork tattoos 🖸 hates sitting for too long 🖸 frequent smoke breaks 🖸 needs to be listening to his music when tattooing 🖸 refuses to do any color 🖸 definitely acts like a rockstar and thinks he'd kick ass at inkmaster 🖸 not always the nicest when he's frustrated; like if his client isn't sitting still. he will definitely tell them they need to or he'll stop and won't finish the session that day 🖸 rotary machine usually 🖸 his station is sleek; black and grey themed. almost empty looking, he doesn't have much hanging up. feels very medical

portfolio: preferences to skulls, abstract, blackout sleeves

kyle 🖸 specializes in: neo traditional 🖸 asks if you're okay every 5 minutes 🖸 "do you need more pillows? water? sugar??" 🖸 "if you need me to stop for any reason at all, don't hesitate to let me know, okay?" 🖸 other than that, he doesn't talk too much during the session. he's too focused 🖸 very detail oriented 🖸 wireless rotary machine all the way 🖸 stencils you like 2-3 times; "hmm i dunno the placement is weird?" "dude i said i liked it, it's fine. am i paying your hourly for this??" 🖸 walks you through literally every step of the tattoo process. goes to wipe with soap: "okay, so this is gonna be cold okay?" 🖸 he just wants you to be happy in the end 🖸 his station is a bit cluttered, but it's organized clutter. artwork hung up in matching regal frames and plants on his storage shelves and in hanging baskets.

portfolio: preferences to lady faces, botanicals, animals

kenny 🖸 specializes in: neo traditional + but is an all-rounder can literally do anything 🖸 studio owner 🖸 always smokes weed before a session 🖸 pretty chill; he's a laid back boss. as long as you're clean and professional he doesn't care what you do 🖸 likes to take his time and do good work, he did work hard for this career after all 🖸 loves getting to do stupid tattoo ideas but is usually stuck doing bigger piece work; he gives the fun stuff to his apprentice 🖸 CHATTERBOX. literally does not shut up during the session, always cracking jokes 🖸 definitely the life of the studio; makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome 🖸 rotary or coil depending on what he's doing 🖸 generally keeps the main studio area organized; has plants that he gets kyle to take care of. his own station though... oml. it's chaos. random mismatching frames with prints of dicks and memes all over the walls. his shelves probably have random knick-knacks he thrifted, like... idk a furby, some random porcelain horse?? just the most weirdest shit. his ink wall is very organized though somehow..

portfolio: preferences to peonies, irezumi style, ignorant style

eric 🖸 specializes in piercings 🖸 definitely gets a kick out of hurting people 🖸 has a big ego because of what he does 🖸 surprisingly very professional when it comes down to it 🖸 makes his clients comfortable and sometimes jokes around with them 🖸 gets nervous before every appointment; always a little afraid he's gonna fuck up 🖸 always keeps the a/c cranked so his clients are less likely to pass out but it makes everyone miserable with how cold it always is in the studio 🖸 thinks he's hot shit because he's the best piercer in town; it definitely fuels his already massive ego 🖸 definitely the type to bitch about problem clients 🖸 has superhero prints hung up in his station and funko pops on his storage shelves; but his station is fucking spotless otherwise.

portfolio: preference to cartilage, septums, nostrils

butters 🖸 specializes in: kawaii style, anime, cartoons 🖸 kenny's apprentice 🖸 the most nervous wreck of a tattoo artist, cries after almost every tattoo 🖸 runs the social media for everyone and manages the front desk 🖸 basically the "shop bitch" that has to do apprentice duties like cleaning and running errands; kenny's generally pretty easy on him though 🖸 gets all the tattoo's nobody else wants to do, but it pushes him to learn 🖸 slowly making a name for himself though as the only tattoo artist in SP that does anime tats 🖸 gets all the hello kitty girls as clients 🖸 the artist you want to go to if you need a mini therapy session. will tell you to dump your partner, move out of the city, and go travel with the $2 you have left in your bank account after the tattoo lmao 🖸 rotary only. Kenny wanted to teach him how to use a coil but figured with the times he might as well just show him the basics 🖸 pink station! stickers everywhere! he's got a heart ring light to take pictures for his portfolio. his shelves are full of plushies that clients have bought him and anime figures. also has a hello kitty water cooler that he uses for his distilled

portfolio: preference to color, sanrio, anything adorable!

[bimbo-superstar]

Darkness is my lover

Yandere Vincent Sinclair x plus size reader 

WARNING DARK THEMES INCLUDE: Dub-con, captivity, forced breeding, dark topics overall, Vinny is sweet in some of the points but controlling and possessive in others.

Please proceed with caution, not intended for younger audiences. 

▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ ▬ι═ﺤ 

♡Vincent became infatuated with you the minute Bo dragged you down to the basement unconscious, you just look so beautiful the full cheeks, your plump lips, those thighs you had, he just had to keep you, but he knew Bo would not allow that to happen, so he hid you.

♡The first month you had attempted to escape multiple times, you almost succeeded the last time which is why you ended up strapped to Vincent's chair, he couldn't believe why you were being ungrateful maybe if he started to treat you like how Bo treats his victims, you'll learn your lesson so that's what he did.

♡You are chained to Vincent's worktable, he put a mattress and some pillows and blankets down, so you won't bump and cut up your delicate body cause vin doesn't want to see his darling hurt unless He’s the one doing the hurting you are his muse after all

♡To Vincent you're like his little doll that he can dress up, feed, wash and use, he needs affection too and with you resisting and resenting him sometimes he can get rough and force you to cuddle up to him or if he’s sexually frustrated, he will take it out on you whether you want it or not 

♡ He loves when you cry and just lay there staring into space, it gives him the perfect opportunity to sketch you how the tears roll down your cheek and hit the dirty basement floor it's like art to him.

♡ His nicknames for you are: My darling, My muse, My babydoll these are usually with passive aggressiveness to the tone and a hint of possessiveness to them also cause Vincent is very insecure and he believe you are his property and he can do whatever he wants to do to you and if someone tries to help you or stop him he has no problem with adding them to his endless collection of wax figures, this includes you if you want to misbehave and continue to act like a selfish bitch he would make you into a figure a special one of course with accessible holes for him to use 

♡Once you succumb to Stockholm syndrome Vinny will allow for you to roam the house and sleep in the room with him, he even allows for you to cook for him, Bo, and Lester you're also allowed to walk Jonesy with Lester 

♡Vincent allows for you to take up some hobbies so you don't think about leaving him again, he buys paint sets, yarn so you can make bracelets to distract you, over the months of you being there you start to crave his affection and attention which is what he wants in a darling he does not want you to disobey or try to leave him, watching him make figures makes you want to try it out so he allows you to sit in his lap while his big hands engulf yours and guides them

♡Vincent loves the thought of forcing himself inside of you if you don't comply with having children with him, he does not mind pushing you down and pounding into you and Cumming bucket loads inside of you, the thought of you being pregnant with his babies makes him go crazy it creates more possessiveness from you 

♡He would fuck you in areas he knows where Bo will pop up at, to Vincent Bo is the more attractive twin but knowing that he can fuck you and Bo cant makes his head spin and the blood rush to his cock, the way you scream and moan with him inside of you and the way you drool with your eyes rolled back while Bo watches from the shadows is what makes Vincent fuck into you harder and faster. He wants his brother to know that he owns you and he can never have you.

DAYUM I HOPE I DID GOOD FOR YOU MY LOVES 

should i make this into a little fic or something LET ME KNOWW 

I LOVE YALLL 

[carmillatism]

hello! i hope this ask finds you well <3

i’m just looking for a bit of advice and i saw one of your posts about being disabled so i figured i might ask;

(to preface: i am not disabled) but sometimes my right hip does a weird thing and hurts for a bit on and off and i can’t really walk (my hips have always been weird - they pop really easily and hurt if i lay down on them for too long) and i was curious if you might have advice on how to deal with that? (though granted i don’t actually know what kind of physical disability you have so this might just be headed out into the aether)

(sorry if this is the wrong blog to ask!)

hello! sorry for getting back so late; i had school! and yes, you came to the right place! want to preface this with a disclaimer by saying i'm not a professional, and i recommend you talk with a doctor if possible. i also recommend doing your own research as i don't know you like you know you!

that aside, i have pots and hsd, both which cause me chronic pain. hsd, or hypermobikity spectrum disorder, causes me chronic joint pain. and good for you, my most common place of pain is in my hips, so i have a lot of experience with what your describing.

my biggest recommendation, other than talking with a doctor, is for you to try and stay off of it when it hurts. you can also apply heat or cold (with an ice pack, heating pad, etc.) to the area that hurts. that usually makes me feel better. i also recommend taking otc (over-the-counter) pain meds. take the dose it tells you to take, and that will usually help soothe the pain!

i also recommend that you keep your mind open to the idea that you could be disabled. if this pain is pretty common for you (as in it happens a couple times a week) and has lasted for at least 3 months with common occurrences, then it's considered chronic pain. if you have chronic pain, you are disabled. ofc i don't know you and can't say for certain! but keeping your mind open to the idea can help you more easily make that transition in the future if you are diagnosed with a disability or your symptoms become disabilitating.

i also recommend getting a cane if possible! canes help a lot with getting weight off of the leg that's hurting, thus allowing the pain to decrease. do not worry about "faking" being disabled. if you need a cane to lessen the pain you feel whilst walking or to support your walking, then use it! you would use your left (opposite of hurt leg) hand for the cane. you don't have to get one, of course, but they are a pretty cheap investment if you get them at a pharmacy or online, and they are extremely helpful.

but again, i can't recommend it anymore for you to see a medical professional. what you are describing sounds similar to my experiences with chronic pain, plus having pain flareups for seemingly no reason pretty consistently along with your hip feeling out of place or popping out of place, sounds like something to bring up to your doctor. based on the limited symptoms you gave, i recommend looking into heds, hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndromes (plus the other versions of eds), or hsd (which is what i have. both are hypermobility from a connective tissue disorder that causes a slew of symptoms, but a major one is joint instability and chronic pain. hsd is sort of a different part of the spectrum of eds, or just a different but similar disorder (scientists really don't know)).

some good medical websites that i use a lot for info on my own health as well as my medical science interst are the cleveland clinic, the nhs website, and mayo clinic. these have digestible pages of information about many different disorders and problems.

i also recommend keeping a list of your symptoms that don't seem entirely normal or healthy. also, keeping a journal of your pain flares and describing when and why it happens can help you track it and see if it worsens or gets better. i also recommend using these to look into possible disorders that you may have. advice given for any type of similar disorders with symptoms similar to yours (or that you might have) can greatly benefit you if you want more advice!

if you have any more questions you can dm me, use my ask box again, or ask someone else for another point of view! talking about it with many different people can give you many different and helpful perspectives that can help you figure out what's going on. i wish you all the best!

[emabatis]

About a Werewolf in the Wawa Parking Lot

This was the second option on this poll I did. People seemed to like it, so here's the whole short story, in all it's exactly 1,000 words:

It’s not full. It’s never full.

That’s the good thing about going out when everyone else is at work or asleep. Just about the only good thing, truth told. Everybody’s hurting for workers until I send something in. I get on fine, the lord never lets my belly get too empty, and he doesn't let my head get too empty, either, or by the time the month is over, I’d have spent a fortune on milkshakes of varying quality. Sometimes they don’t even have milkshakes, and I need to settle for a “cream smoothie," which they say is healthier but if you ask me it’s just the same price for more ice. Not disgusting, but when I’m already shaky, the last thing I need is less sugar.

It’s a warm night for the month, a bit cloudy. Old, baggy jacket weather. I’m preferring old, baggy clothes these days. I’m sipping in the parking lot, letting the condensation soothe my orange palms. It’s strawberry cheesecake. Not my favorite flavor, but, you know, if you just order your favorite every time, it loses its magic. I still like strawberry cheesecake fine. It’s my niece’s favorite. It’s also one of the flavors I can drink regularly without spewing. That’s been a problem lately, throwing up. Some weeks are worse than others. I get by. This week’s been pretty great, actually.

It’ll be an hour or two before Hank gets here - he works until late in the evening. He doesn’t know I’m here, but - lord willing and the creek don’t rise - he’ll stop here like he usually does after work and he can drive me home.

Or maybe I’ll end up forgetful in the morning, covered in dew in the cornfield next door - there’s always a corn field next door, but I’m specifically talking about the one I’m looking at. There’s deer in that corn field. It’s safe, warm, and full of food. All enclosed. Denser than the woods, too dense for any predators, not that they have to worry about those. All the wolves in the area got put down before most anyone can remember, outside of the nursing home or family attic. That doesn't include me just yet.

A pair of eyes are glowing from behind the stalks, as still and bright as the sign they reflect back at me. Wawa, the deer’s eyes promise. It’s a doe, just out of her white spots. There had to be a gas station somewhere in the however-huge stretch between the two closest ones, and it might as well be a Wawa on this corner, between the old schoolhouse for sale and a corn field full of deer.

My stomach is gnawing at itself. Again? I’m thinking about how awkward it would be to go back into the store I just finished up in, especially since I can’t remember if I had the presence of mind to not say “you too” when they told me to enjoy my shake. I didn’t have the presence of mind to notice it was gone, and here I am, sucking on air like a fool. I’ll throw the cup away. Probably eat it next, if I don’t.

The sunset is pretty, tonight. Just the right amount of clouds and at just the right texture to make colors pop. I saw the moon earlier, it was huge. I could read by that moon alone, it’s the biggest and brightest I’ve seen in a long while. That might’ve been yesterday, actually.

The streetlights are on, now. 

Something’s wrong with my body, I think. Not enough elbows. The air’s a lot hotter than it was a minute ago. Like I just got a pint of blood poured in me, and it’s got nowhere to go but it’s going fast. I can feel it thrumming to my fingers and toes. The deer is still staring, frozen in place.

A surge of vomit wants to crawl up my throat, and it scratches as I swallow it down. It doesn’t taste like strawberry cheesecake. I don’t want to know what it tastes like. My stomach hurts, that kind of hurt that doesn’t leave room for words like “squeezing” or “throbbing.” Just pain. I’m praying oh lord help me, and it helps, a bit.

Taking deep breaths is important for pain. Mostly because breathing is important for survival, and pain makes people forget everything they learned about how to survive. It feels like every exhale releases that pain into the world, where it can scatter and grow into something nicer.

It doesn’t last. I’m almost knocked over by another wave. This time it’s in my chest. Not so easy to breathe through it. I must’ve been screaming, because my jaw is sore. No one inside has come out to see what’s what, those inconsiderate kids.

It passes quick, but I get the feeling it’s gonna come back quick, and with a vengeance. I’ve gotta move. The light, the sound of the neon, the smell, it’s all too much. I’m gritting my teeth so hard I swear I can hear them bend. I can’t feel my legs, wouldn’t know what to do with them if I could. 

A tooth is falling out of my mouth. Another one now. And another. The pain takes me after I taste my own blood, and it spreads from my mouth to the tips of my toes. Everywhere, it’s noisy, it’s bright, it smells like my own body.

When did I end up on the ground? A while ago, I reckon. I see something in the sky, just behind the Wawa sign.

There’s a sickening pop somewhere inside of me, I’m spasming, howling, and eventually the pain is so big, so much bigger than the body that needs to hold it, that a sort of instinctual clarity opens my eyes. Yes. This is what’s supposed to happen. The deer finally runs away. That won’t do. It has to stay full.I take a deep breath, and push, push, push into the field.

[misskittyhart]

Chapter 6: Morning Glories

Warning: violence, death

Alastor panted heavily holding his shotgun. A look of sadistic glee in his eyes as he looked down at the man’s body. His eyes glazed over, glowing a sickly green color. His breath was visible on the air as he painted wildly. The green glow around him buzzed with radio static, strange arcane symbols popped in and out of existence around him. Alarmingly, clawed shadowy hands wrapped around the man’s figure, as if dragging his soul down into the earth. Pulling it to the farthest depths of hell.

Alastor raised his shot gun slinging it over his shoulder. He was admiring the latest sacrifice to that ancient evil who had its claws on his soul. He sighed lightly, running his hand through his brown hair slowly. His eyes glimmering peering through those round frames. He laid his shot gun down humming cheerfully. He began to drag the man across the clearing towards the latest grave site area he had made.

It took a moment but he got there. He picked up his shovel and broke earth. It seemed like this was just an every day task to him, as he hummed cheerfully. Once the hole was dug, he nudged the body in with his foot. Delighted at his handy work, he began to fill the hole back in.

It wasn’t long before he came back into the cabin. He saw kitty resting on his couch, dozing lightly. He smiled brightly at her, and decided to let her sleep while he cleaned himself up. Walking into the bathroom, he flicked the light on, he stared into the mirror looking at his reflection. His face and clothing was smattered in crimson spray. That last shot really was quite messy. He seemed amused. He removed his glasses, and began to wash his face up,

The radios in the house crackled, and hissed before coming to life on their own. The sound of quiet, but chaotic jazz filled the house. Not loud enough to wake Kitty from her needed rest, but enough to make his ears prick up. He smiled content, drying his face off with a towel. He moved slowly to the music, seeming to be quite pleased with everything that had unfolded this night.

He went to change, putting on fresh clothing. Putting his bloody clothes into the bathtub to soak. The soaking would help to pull the stains from them. He moved back into the parlor, feeling refreshed. He looked over at Kitty, his figure looming over her. His eyes softened, from the wild look he had earlier.

He leaned down and brushed some hair from her face. Her soft breathing seemed to calm him. “It’s done, darlin” he sat down in the leather arm chair beside the couch. “He will never hurt you again.” He said softly. He was content to listen to the soft jazz, and watch Kitty sleep. It was as if he felt peace wash over him, coming down off the high.

Kitty stirred after sometime. Her eyes opening slowly, she felt so sleep drunk. Alastor was sitting in the chair near by reading a book, swimming engrossed. “Mnn….hey” she said in a sleepy tone.

His eyes flicked to her immediately pulled from his reading. A smile split his lips as he gazed at her, “well hello sleepy head! Sorry I took so long out there. You must have been exhausted from the night.”

She sat up slowly stretching “I guess so. I hadn’t realized I feel asleep.”

“Mmn I didn’t want to wake you, but it’s done.” He grinned

She smiled lightly “thank you.” She said quietly. It seems Alastor would be handling all of her problems in the future.

“Oh darling, it was a pleasure.” He chuckled. He closed his book, and set it aside. Standing up, he stretched. “It’s quite late, how about we go to bed proper?”

She nodded standing up. She took his hand as he offered it. For being such a deadly killer, his hands were always gentle with her. He led her to his bed. The second time she would be in it. He helped her into bed before climbing in himself. She sighed content feeling the plush mattress beneath her.

Alastor wasted no time curling into her, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her body close. He pressed his face into her neck, kissing lightly.

Kitty flushed at the gentle kisses. They were so soft and tender. He hummed content taking her scent in. He closed his eyes, feeling comfort with her. She wasn’t sure when they drifted off, but she could feel sunlight pouring over them. The soft sounds of bird woke her up slowly.

Alastor was still dozing lightly. His breath was so soft against her shoulder. He was still holding her, almost in a vice grip. She chuckled softly. He groaned lightly stirring against her. “Mmnnn” he groaned against her shoulder, “mnph morning already?” He asked sleepily.

“Mmnhm seems so” she chuckled.

“I refuse to accept this” he said in a childish tone drawing her closer to him again. He didn’t want to let her go, and get up. She felt to good against him. He seemed like a selfish child right now, and that amused her.

“It’s a lovely day~ we shouldn’t waste it in bed” she teased

“Why not…” he almost whined.

His little protests she found amusing. “Let me make a deal with you, if you let me go I’ll make coffee and breakfast~” she teased him playing with a strand of his curly brown hair.

He grinned sleepily “what if I’d rather starve and keep holding you, Cher?”

“Oh Alastor don’t be like that.” She chuckled.

He sighed releasing her from his grasp. He rolled onto his back arms propped up under his head, and a grin split his face.

Kitty leaned over him, her hair framing his face as she looked into his eyes. Her lips pressed into his gently. Alastor hummed content as she gave him a good morning kiss. He laid back letting her press her small frame against him.

“Mmn….I thought you were getting out of bed, darlin?” He teased.

She pulled up a little flushed “I a-am.” She stammered. Moving to get out of bed swiftly, he chuckled at her. Huffing lightly, she shook her head leaving him alone in his bed.

Padding her way into the kitchen, she began to make some coffee. Last night was a little fuzzy. She was going over the details in her mind as she started breakfast. It was an intense night. Seeing him so furious when Marc hit her, just made her so….satisfied? She was sure what word to describe the feeling inside of her. Alastor defending her, and even….killing for her. Her eyes glazed over.

Suddenly two strong arms slipped around her waist. He rest his chin on her shoulder bent over her. She jolted a little surprised. Kitty didn’t even hear him enter the kitchen. Either he was great at concealing his footsteps, or she was so engrossed in her own thoughts.

“Well you got up quick”. Kitty smirked

“Mmn it’s no fun being in bed with out you.~” he teased

“I see.” She said sounding amused. She was working on kneading out biscuit dough.

“Mmmn the coffee smells wonderful.” He sighed content, releasing her from his grasp to grab a cup.

She watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was grinning ear to ear, stretching lightly with a big yawn. How could he look so normal? After what she’d witnessed last night. He was a cold blooded killer, who seemed to take pride in his work.

Was she much different, honestly? The things she did were no better. Though he seemed far more comfortable and enjoyed the kill almost too much.

She shook this thought from her head and continued on making them breakfast. She was certain they both needed it after last night.

Alastor was humming moving around in a circle, dancing. Yes he was quite in the good mood. Before kitty could think he had spun her into his arms, dancing with her to the sudden jazz that was playing on the radio. Almost as if the radio read his mind. He sighed content kissing her face all over. Kitty was taken right from her thoughts, by his shower of affection.

His thumb rest on her chin and he grinned brightly at her, “you are magnificent~” he cooed at her. Kitty seemed flustered by all of this. He gripped her chin and kissed her firmly, an air of dominance in that hot kiss. She found herself boxed against the counter, his mouth devouring hers.

Sudden mood change… she thought. “A…alastor” she said breathlessly when he broke the kiss. He was grinning down at her. “I didn’t think making breakfast was all that sexy.” She sighed

He laughed loudly at her words. His eyes crinkling at the corners from his wide grin. “Oh? Well having such a pretty lady in my home tending to my needs…is quite sexy.” He purred. His voice was always so charming and honey dipped. Perhaps that’s why he was so popular on radio?

She laughed lightly at his words. However he didn’t move. His arms keeping her boxed into the counter. There was a look of mischief in those golden eyes of his. Her face flushed lightly. “I….I’m going to burn breakfast.” She blurted suddenly.

Alastor snapped out of it and moved away from her slightly letting her go. “Ah yes, wouldn’t want to ruin your hard work, darlin~” he watched her content and poured himself a cup of coffee.

He took a seat at the small kitchen table and watched her. She was just irresistible, so charming. The way she moved at such simple every day tasks had him enthralled.

“Kitty?” He said breaking the silence between them, “do you work tonight?”

She turned slightly to look at him as she plated their food, “oh, no I’m off. Why?” She asked curious

“Well I have a broadcast tonight, but after I’d like to take you out.” He smirked

Her cheeks flushed lightly “oh?” She inquired

“Mmnhm. I want to show my girl a good time. Maybe some dancing in the quarter, dinner too” he grinned.

Kitty thought that sounded lovely. She can’t remember the last time she went out. “Are you asking me on a date?” She teased

He grinned brightly at her. “Oh yes! I mean, I oughta show my girl off.”

Kitty laughed lightly, she set their plates down on the table and sat herself. Cupping the coffee mug in her hands, she smiled warmly at him, “oh? You know you’re gonna break some of your fans hearts~”

He laughed loudly “too bad~ they weren’t worth my time” he hummed content. He brushed his fingers against her hand, “not many women can handle my…..desires” he smirked

Kitty could agree with that. Besides the obvious penchant for murder. He was also an aggressive lover. Which didn’t bother her in the slightest. They began to eat, the sound of jazz filled his house, as the radio crackled and popped.

Kitty felt a little strange, like they were being watched. Oblivious to her gaze, green eyes on the walls and ceiling were fixed on them. Almost with interest.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed sensing the strange shift in the air, like static almost. He would not let his deity corrupt or take Kitty. She was his after all. Alastor did not like sharing. The eyes blinked and he got the sense they were smiling at him, before fizzling out. He grit his teeth in a forced grin.

No. She belonged to him, and him alone.

[silent-partner-412]

i get why so many people say xenoblade 1 has the worst quests in the series but i just don’t agree lol not even a bit (minor spoilers for all 3 games, i’ll be ranting about a side quests a lot lmao)

pretty sure the main problem people have with them is the lack of meat to most of them, to the point where every area has quests that are literally just numbered “go collect/kill this thing”, which i think is honestly a little overblown. there are plenty of quests that start off bland but build into another quest, or whole chains of quests that only get better as they go along. this is compounded by the affinity chart being by far the best in this game; it’s easy to follow and pretty much every single relationship link change makes sense (unlike in 3 where sometimes shit would just change and i would have no idea why). i definitely understand wishing there was more to a lot of these, and i would never say no to better content, but also this was something that never really bothered me because they’re SO EASY TO DO… especially in DE, the UI in the game is so good that it’s super easy to just accept literally every quest you see and just follow the exclamation marks. there’s still some shit you’re probably gonna look up here and there to make your life easier, but you have to do that in 2 and 3 as well. it’s so easy for me to lose track of time doing quests in this game because they just feel good to do; the rewards are good, leveling up the colonies feels good, watching the little affinity stars pop up feels good, and nothing is super cumbersome like the other games (especially 2) can be.

i’m comparing this to 2 where i’m gonna be honest, i think the quests are so bad in this game lol. the UI for this game is much worse so most of the “generic” quests just are not as satisfying to take care of. you don’t have a quest log or affinity chart to track your progress, so there doesn’t really feel like you’re gaining anything from doing the quests, which is especially bad when they just feel worse to do. i don’t feel like the content of these quests on average are significantly better than 1 either, but maybe that’s just me idk. the major good thing 2 has over 1 is the introduction of blade quests, which clearly have higher production value than 1’s quests did and feature our fun rare blades, but even that i feel is hindered by the fact that half the blade quests are either extremely mediocre and forgettable or so bad it hurts. i would rather do the late game high entia quests or the nopon drug ring quests in 1 over the best blade quests in 2 any day of the week.

the one saving grace to 2’s quests is the existence of Torna having just. better written quests that i actually end up caring about. but overall it’s just a really weak system and one of the weakest parts about 2 in my opinion.

of course, the punchline here is that 3 improved upon both of them thanks to the introduction of heroes making literally everything better. almost every hero quest is as good or better than the best blade quests in 2 (plus the worst hero quests aren’t nearly as bad as the worst blade quests), and the heroes don’t stop being relevant once you finish their quests. pretty much every commander is involved in most of the quests of their colonies, which makes the heroes more compelling as characters and makes you get more attached to the colonies as a result. i really enjoyed teaching the kids in colony gamma, growing potatoes with zeon in colony 9, learning how insane colony 11 is, helping the poor children in colonies mu and 0, and honestly the list goes on. i think the only issues i have with 3’s quests as a whole (other than that some of them just aren’t very good, though the ratio for that is much smaller than in 1 and 2) are that material quests are soooo much worse than they were in DE for some reason cuz they fucked up the UI somehow, and also the affinity chart isn’t nearly as neat and organized as it is in 1 (though having it back at all is really great regardless).

tl;dr: xenoblade 1 quests good and way overhated, xenoblade 2 quests bad and overrated, xenoblade 3 quests better than 1 or 2 easily

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Gotta vent. Sorry.

Life is so….

I woke up after three hours sleep. I was too worried about things to go right back to sleep, and music wasn’t distracting me enough. I open Tumblr.

The third post I see is one if those damned “helpful” OMG warning signs you have a deadly disease and should rush to a doctor posts. I have an extreme medical “professional” phobia from serious traumas at their hands, no health insurance, no money at all, no local doctors in my rural area (no hospital in the damn county even), no one I can trust to help me……I mean, I haven’t been to a doctor in longer than some of you have been alive, and that was a horrible experience I do NOT want to repeat. Yeah, these helpful post send me into a freaked out spiral of fear.

An e-mail comes in. My reloadable debit card has been declined. New panic! I’d ordered a book, a gift in a way. I’d promised to read Mom this book over the phone as a birthday gift next month, and I’d found it cheap. I can’t afford books for me anymore, but this is for Mom, so I can’t just cancel it.

Frantic I scramble to figure out where the money went. I’m horrified to find out it is all looking legit.

I go to the bank website and move $100 over so I can pay for the book and beginning of the month stuff like my phone.

I see the numbers and my chest hurts, like a fist around my heart.

Today I have to do the shopping because I’m half way through my last bags of animal feed. I start doing the math.

After the animals I’ll have $100 for all my groceries, gas for the car, kerosene for the hot water heater, bandages for my ankle, batteries for the lanterns where I don’t have electricity, mouse poison for where I found the damn rodents had gotten into my storage container of clothes, and everything else. Too much else. I’d skipped everything I could last time, so I am out of everything from trashbags to toilet paper.

$100 and not a penny more for two weeks.

And OMG, that includes Halloween! I need a pumpkin and candy to give out!

Just $100.

I cried.

I get mad at myself for crying. I already got yelled at by someone disgusted and angered by my crying a couple days ago.** I HATE when I can’t keep from crying, even alone.

I felt so much…I dunno, everything. I needed to lash out. A sensible person would break something, but breaking something is stupid when you can’t afford to replace anything. I sure as hell don’t ever want to hurt anyone. So what did I do? Slapped myself in the face as hard as I could.

And geez, it was SUCH a relief! That tells you something. Physical pain is much, much easier than emotional. I’ve said that since I was little.

Sometimes I really miss Pop. I mean, I always miss Pop, but it was so nice to have someone that cared. Mom loves me, but she was never the cuddly one and not great at noticing emotions. She could be impatient with crying, once she finally noticed. Pop though… I got all upset and cried he’d pat my back or head and say “Poor Teffy Weffy” I miss feeling comforted. Loved.

Anyway, so I worried and tossed and turned and cried and worried some more and….

I’ve had three hours sleep. The sun is up. My ankle is already hurting. I have to go do the shopping without enough money, and not feeling up to it.

Damn it, I want to get to have a breakdown and not get out of bed! Just one day in my life I don’t want to get up!!! Or how about have a lazy day and do nothing? A guilt free nap, at least?

I am so fucking sick of making myself go through the motions of being alive, of watching it all drain away between my fingers while trying to laugh about it. Get up, take care of the animals, fix my meals, do my chores, repair endless things, research the day’s new problems….

Busy. Busy. From the moment I get up until the wee hours if the morning when I finally crash, stay busy. No time to think or dream. There is just too much to do!

Work on so many things I can never quite fix but keep trying, always trying, trying, trying, trying…

And failing.

I’m so tired of life.

** It was an awful incident, on a very bad day when I was already sick and in pain. I’d told by my brother they were sending the jelly I’d sent to Mom back, unopened, and no one of the rest of then would eat it.

I apologized to Mom for sending jelly since I didn’t know she didn’t eat the stuff, and she said she actually liked jelly. My brother started roaring at her, shouting at her to not say that, that she was a liar, that she never ate jelly, none of them do, don’t ever contradict him… (BTW, when I was there she ate jelly AND they had opened jelly in their fridge, so saying none of them ate jelly baffled me)

Mom was being yelled at because of me. I begged her to stay quiet to not provoke him, and I could hear his shouting…

I don’t get him. He’s always so… Not like the rest of us in my immediate family. Angry, aggressive, hostile, mean even.

I started sobbing. Guilt at causing Mom trouble. Helplessness to do anything to make things better. Frustration. Despair at how we are bound up, in so many ways at his mercy, and he is not a merciful soul.

Usually I am so good at this. I never cry when I’m on the phone with Mom. I try not to let anyone see me cry, but on the phone with Mom it’s especially important. I don’t want to upset her. She can’t help me, so I have to hide my struggles a bit.

But it’s also because of him. It makes him angry.

He yanked the phone from Mom to say some thing and he heard me crying. Disgust. Rage. He finds tears to be the way the weak manipulate people, a pathetic, scummy way of fighting, an attack on him. He snarled and ended by hanging up in me.

I think the call didn’t last three minutes.

I’d been on the verge of a meltdown for days as life was getting worse and worse, and I was dealing with feeling rotten on top of it. Now I actually wailed. Good thing I was in the woods, though the poor critters must have been terrified by the banshee.

[megacross-ground-zero-rated-r]

MAJOR Trigger Warning for the following:

Suicide, depression, hopelessness, intense guilt and shame, self-hatred / self-pity / self-punishment, invasive thoughts, extreme black-and-white thinking, and some NSFT text.

Most of these things are taking big, complicated emotions and making them bigger, pushing them to the extreme. Sometimes these characters are direct stand-ins for a specific emotion / thought and sometimes they're more metaphorical.

Nick: Typically tells himself what he IS makes him sick and wrong verses Kellogg: Typically tells himself what he DOES makes him sick and wrong. Or what's been done to him.

Nick: He can become good enough to earn the right to exist versus Kellogg: Typically thinks he can't, but he's not gonna kill himself, so he may as well suffer OR No-one needs to earn it, they have it simply by virtue of being born.

Kellogg being jolted out of apathy by the first death and vomiting his guts out in the simulation, spilling a lifetime of rage and grief and wallowing in self-pity, so Sole can see it, understand it, and swear to never be like him. She feels similarly in some areas but the problem is still him: He made the wrong choice too many times. His emotions were just too big. Self-control was never truly an option. How could it be for someone who was hurt so badly?

All these things he's thought of as his death being someone else's silver lining: A no holds barred heart-to-heart and a cautionary tale for Sole. Advice and a secret companion and maybe some orgasms for Nick. A final rousing speech for Father to visit the surface before the illness takes him. A fun time on the surface for Synth Shaun. A night of passion with his Gen Three copy before one of them is put down at random, carrying the other's bitemark, scarring it over.

I usually write him as a doomed figure to riff on the lack of choices. Both him as a character and as an NPC driving the plot "know it has to be this way." He is "fated" to die when he's ambivalent about living, or be forced back to life when he wants to die, or shoved into a new place / time / body / state of being. He wished he'd stop existing, got exactly that, started fearing nothingness when he had to go back, but he had no other choice. He had to leave the Lounger eventually. He'd already let them kill him once. Suicide cannot be undone.

While hiding in Nick's mind he's torn between hating and loving death. He begs to be allowed to stay while he pours over the question: Did he truly want to die? Or did he just want a new life, a break from all this? He feels once he's answered it he'll be ready to take another plunge into the void. See where the fuck he ends up this time.

The fic These Telltale Parts can essentially be boiled all the way down to his free-roaming spirit trying to find something funny to say about death, and therefore, life, slowly coming to realize he does in fact regret suicide by cop. Nick also expresses regret for helping Sole, it was clear to him what was happening, but he can't take it back either. All that's left is the aftermath of the choices made then, the autopsy, the cleanup. The reason Kellogg goes insane this time is he NEEDS a reason why his grim reaper is late and convinces himself the Institute components need to be removed from his corpse so his soul may move to the next step in the process, whatever that may be.

((A big thing Nick’s torn between loving and hating is the idea of becoming human again. His Megacross iteration, at the very least, is extremely jealous of Conrad for popping into R///oger R///abbit's world as a regular old human instead of a humanoid T///oon.))

The narrative and Nick implicitly agreeing with the idea that Kellogg’s mere presence is disgusting and poisonous to others- Not like battery acid, but vinegar, still enough to sting and corrode. It's okay because he knows his place.

Unable to take a physical form, unable to affect the world around him, he exists as a collection of thoughts rather than a person. It's better this way: Obviously he ruins everything he touches. He can never make the right choice. Obviously anyone finding out Nick’s haboring Kellogg's ghost puts them both in danger. The Illness needs to be cut out, and if Nick disagees, says he has it under control- He's learned to live with it, same as many other drawbacks to his fraught mental state / Synthetic form- It's clear The Rot Has Spread Too Far.

Kellogg's argument for why he should be spared is look how small he's made himself to avoid inconveniencing Nick. He didn't even want Nick to find him. He knows he shouldn't still be here. He knows, he knows, he knows he should just disappear. He respects Nick as the master, he only wants the barest hints of his personality to stain Nick.

A little more selfish. A little more quick to anger, a little more honest when he shouldn't be. A little more "spontaneous"... By which he means lustful, indulgent. One of the first manifestations of Kellogg is sharper hunger pangs and a craving for sensations he used to love: The taste of a cigar. The kick of a high-caliber pistol rocking back into his palm. The snug fit of a leather jacket.

Nick doesn't think too much of these things and feeding them doesn't give Kellogg more power over him. Even if it did, Kellogg knows better than to disrupt the natural order. Nobody notices him indulging and puts it together the merc's instincts are bleeding into him. It's vital to remember that the cravings were already inside him, they just changed, got more frequent. ((Again the problem is Kellogg Specifically: It could be argued the text says those cravings are fine when they belong to Nick. Nick is the only one who's soothed and told his hungers are natural / good.))

Kellogg sees all the embarrassing, shameful ways in which Nick is Only Human. Those cravings. Anger. Jealousy. Loneliness. He holds no judgment. Seen too much to be shocked or disgusted.

He gently coaxes Nick to admit he wants more / weirder sex. He's fascinated by how Nick works and feels no shame for it, personally, his care and hesitation breeching the subject are for Nick’s sake. They agree Nick can't have a partner while Kellogg's here... The sooner they get comfortable with open, honest conversation, the less friction there'll be in their shared space. Often it stops at a little reminiscing on the past. Cracking a couple jokes.

Sometimes, when they're feeling especially nostalgic, Kellogg offers the still-fresh memories of a flesh-and-blood body, Nick hops in and takes a joyride through the highlight reel. Sometimes the fantasy they create together is all their own.

Kellogg is the soft, encouraging voice murmuring in his ear, c'mon, Nicki, show me the weird shit. Show me how you tick. He's fine with not feeling the same sparks: Working together is half the fun. He loves making Nick feel good. Relaxed. Safe. "I promise you're safe with me."

Again, Kellogg sees everything inside his head, but Nick is in control of what they do or don't engage with. What they feed. It cannot hurt them or take over them if they look it in the eye and speak it's name, acknowledging it, then moving on.

T///oon!Nick’s downfall is in hating his humanity for its needs and wants. Insisting that he is completely in control of himself, he has to be or Bad Things will happen. It's in refusing to believe that others can understand and sympathize, or getting angry because they relate too much. Enraged, even. Mob Boss Nick made the mistake of fixating on one thing that could Save Him and give him all the answers. Nick's version was killing Winter, Val's was single-handedly saving the entire Wasteland from itself, which then snowballed into other issues.

Kellogg often submits to Nick's point of view if they disagree. He doesn't want to seem too argumentative. In Megacross I decided to dramatize Kellogg's / Conrad's positive feelings and that submission to the point he loses himself. I ballooned the belief that Nick Is Always Right and Just, he is Always Bad, further and further until the only way Conrad thinks he can Be Good And Worthy is through the power of their love.

Since 98% of the time Kellogg is acting either to help Nick or in self defense, what if we flipped the dynamic- Nick not acting like himself like in Possessed!Nick stories- By making T///oon!Nick an active, persistent aggressor against Conrad? Again, we come back to black-and-white, extreme thought patterns: He cannot truly kill the parts of him that are needy, or horny, embarrassing, aching, bleeding, anything he wishes he could be Better Than. It's actively harmful to his well-being to try.

Both of them believe they're acting in self defense, and each is at least partially right, but Conrad snaps out of plotting murder FIRST. NICK is the one to continue taking it too far, his paranoia running wild. It's understandable to be a little freaked out by someone you don't know knowing that much about you. It makes sense he'd be concerned about associating with Conrad, or his public image in general. Same with recoiling from what, for all intents and purposes, looks like a stalker's love confession. But murder is not the appropriate response.

Conrad's struggle will be forming his own opinions, divorcing his perception of himself from Nick as much as possible. Avoiding spirals into hopelessness. No, he is not a lost cause. Yes, he's been hurt, badly, but he's not broken down to ground glass, doomed to be sealed in a jar and locked away forever or cutting into everything he touches.

Both of them need to be able to recognize when their pursuit of personal growth is in danger of going off the rails. Or if it's something else they want to *believe* is good for them. Are they actually thinking about a mistake all the time to avoid it in the future? Or is it self-flagration?

You gotta learn to truly live with being the problem and hurting others sometimes. You have a right to feel / vent but it cannot fall to the one you hurt to support you. Sometimes you really do drive yourself crazy. Everyone is not out to get you and wishing for your death / your reputation being ruined. It feels terrible to be afraid / ashamed of what's in your head for any reason. You have to exist as a full person who makes choices and takes up space / time / oxygen, not just thoughts, not just how you can serve someone else. Refusing to change anything about your life is a passive choice, but it's a choice nonetheless, even if you want to pretend it's a purely neutral non-action. You cannot saddle someone else with being your moral compass.

[vulpixelates]

self-efficacy, wisdom, authenticity, appreciation, and prudence for Ollie, Logan, and Caerellia now plz

SELF-EFFICACY– Does the end justify the means? How to they approach their goals? Do they blame others for their own faults or admit them?

all in all, ollie is much more likely to blame herself than those around her (unless the other person in question is her mother) because you know, it's usually her fault, so why would this time be different? she can be very temperamental in her decision-making but it's less "the ends justify the means" and more "what would make me feel better right now?" however, she does try to keep an eye out for the people she cares about.

logan is extremely goal-oriented, so sometimes the ends do justify the means for her as long as she's not harming her family or her community. when she was younger i think she often shifted blame onto others before herself but mostly in a self-preservation way - she always had to be better than everyone to "prove" her "worth" to her family so i think this made her pretty defensive. though it might have been a long road to get there, she's cooled down quite a bit in that regard as an adult.

caerellia will do whatever it takes to get her way by any means necessary, the tricksier the better. there are a few groups who she won't trample over but the rest had better watch out. she has to practically delude herself into being entirely certain that what she is doing is the best for everyone in order to do so, but y'know. desperate times and all that.

[popping the rest of this under a read more bc i got VERY wordy 🙃✌]

WISDOM– Are they open to other people’s perspectives? Do they look to history and past mistakes? What kinds of internal dialogue do they have about difficult situations?

while ollie tries not to look back too far behind her, she recognizes when other people know more about things than her and will lean on them/listen to their advice before moving forward. in times of difficulty, mostly her head is just a repeat of "jesus fucking christ i have GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE."

logan has enough sense to know what she knows and what she doesn't, and understands the importance of learning from her past errors. especially now that her oldest daughter is a teenager and she realizes how much her youngest picks up on everything, it's so important to her to model emotional intelligence like this. in difficult situations, she will take about 10 seconds to panic (or a few minutes to hit someone w her shoes if the situation calls for it) and then jump immediately into problem-solving mode.

caerellia is also very aware of her abilities - and where her weaknesses are. she isn't the wisest person but she has grown up around someone who is (volusena, probably the only voice of reason in all of artana tbh) and learned the benefits of listening to others' perspectives. acknowledging past mistakes is definitely a point of contention though; she is very convinced that she can't show any weakness and being wrong is one of the biggest weaknesses to her, something that she would take advantage of in a millisecond if any opponent were to do. so that's definitely an area she needs to grow in. maybe some of lilith's temperament will rub off on her.

AUTHENTICITY– What are sub- and unconscious things that make them who they are? Who can they be themselves with, and who do they wear a mask for? What kinds of social roles do they perform?

this one is tough for ollie. i've touched on the fact that she has trouble letting people in, so i think she definitely puts on a facade for the world: she's tough, she's hard, nothing can break through her shell and hurt her. her friends can see glimpses of this though, especially people like jo, billie, and maude but especially maude. who understands a weird lesbian with trauma better than their high school art or english teacher?

to logan, i think above everything else is being a wife and mother. she became that at such a young age that it has become a huge part of how she identifies, though i wouldn't say it's a bad thing in her case. she is a person outside of it still, with a clear identity - her wife and children are just such huge parts of how she sees herself. parenthood shaped her; being gentle and loving to her children in ways she had never experienced healed her. it isn't about who she is to others or what she can do for them, it's about how she sees herself. making other people feel seen and loved is one of her favorite things.

i have answered similar questions about caerellia often so i'll give myself a pass on this one given the length of all of my other answers aoiejfaoi. tl;dr, caerellia wears a mask around almost everyone (literally) and has so much trouble taking it off that it takes her a lot of soul-searching to learn who she really is and what she wants to be.

APPRECIATION– What kind of accomplishments do they recognize? What things do they find beautiful or attractive? Which of their senses do they find most joy engaging with?

for other people, ollie is very (and secretly) impressed especially by academic and social accomplishments/traits. like, she's so fucking jealous of people who are able to be vulnerable and authentic with others so easily, or people who work their ass off to do cool things. she is really attracted to people who know who they are and what they want. and as an artist/photographer, i think sight and touch are her most joyful senses to engage with.

logan is the type of person who just loves to see people around her succeed, no matter what they're doing or if others might think it's just a small thing. she's the #1 hype woman. as for attractiveness, her type is all across the board but she heavily prefers dating butches and studs; she feels the most authentic in romantic/sexual herself when in relationships w them and i think she especially loves the romantic side of taking care of them when usually people expect them to take care of others. as for senses, god, that's a hard pick, but probably a tie between touch and taste? so much of her life revolves around food but she's a touchy-feely and tactile kinda girl too.

caerellia is most impressed by feats of power and talent, especially if it's natural. effortless. nothing is sexier to her. bonus points if there's a secret soft side, or a not-so-secret one. for senses, she'd probably chose sight, which is ironic given the profession she almost went into.

PRUDENCE– How far ahead do they plan? Are they able to strategize future potential factors? Do they go out of their way to ask for clarification, or simply assume they know what they’re doing?

ollie does not often plan ahead, at least for her own future. she definitely thinks a lot about how things could go wrong though which will surely come in handy in the days to come, and she'll definitely always ask for clarification if it's a situation where she feels comfortable.

logan is a PLANNER. she has to be with her ADHD and how busy she is, or else she'd always be running around like a chicken w her head cut off lmao. (it should be noted that she has gotten these habits primarily from her oldest daughter, who is an organized, planning queen.) i think planning is also a major source of comfort for her, though she is always ready to switch gears if something goes awry. she isn't the type to ever assume and doesn't have any ego about asking for help or clarification when she needs it.

caerellia is very similar to logan in this way: she's a chaotic ADHD girlie as well but in her situation, she has to stay on top of everything so excessive planning is how she copes. however, i think she's less adept at adapting in the moment if something goes not according to plan. despite the chaos, she's strung a little bit tightly at times. in regards to asking for clarification, often she'd rather eat her own boot than to admit that she doesn't know everything around someone she doesn't trust, harkening back to the answer for wisdom. but she grows up a bit eventually.

[wallflowerimagines]

*TW PERIOD MENTION*

If you're comfortable with this, could you do some hcs for the lords (but mainly moreau) with an s/o who gets HORRIBLE period cramps? Like they're literally writhing in pain and even after they take pain meds it's still miserable. Only do this if you feel comfortable of course, I totally understand if you dont want to do it❤

Hi, sorry folks, I bumped this to the top of the list, cuz I don't know if it's time sensitive for you, hope it brings comfort❤️ (Moreau's will have some extra)

TW: Period Mention, Reader is still Gender Neutral

Alcina Dimitrescu

Ah, she remembers those. She hasn't had to deal with one in a long while, due to her mutation, but even for her the experience was not pleasant.

This, however, looks very different.

Alcina cannot imagine the pain you must be in. You are curled into yourself on the couch, humming in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain, and you might try to hide them but she can see the tear tracks on your face.

Alcina takes care of you. Any of her day to day tasks can and will wait-- you are far more important. She doesn't leave the room unless you ask her to, and the Maids aren't let into the room unless it is to bring HER the things she needs to take care of you.

She will do whatever you need from her, no question. Cuddles, heated blankets, she will even read aloud to you as a distraction. Pro tip--her hands can get pretty chilly, and if you're someone who does well with ice packs, her hands work 100% better to cool off your skin.

Don't worry about her loosing control at the smell of blood--you are obviously in pain and she has far too much self control to let a little bit of blood bother her. (But depending on how hungry her daughters are, they might not be let in the room unless they have fed recently)

She will also use her contact with the Duke to find you a proper doctor. It's not normal for you to be in this much pain. Dearest, it doesn't matter if someone else has said there's nothing more to be done-- she's getting you a competent Doctor to get a second opinion.

Donna Beneviento

Donna is panicking.

Lady Beneviento is stressed the hell out by seeing you in pain--she hates it. You're lying in a pile of blankets on the floor, unable to be even the slightest bit comfortable because of the pain, and in such obvious agony that your hands are shaking.

Still, she's more than ready to make you feel better. Other than pain pills and more traditional treatment, Donna firmly believes in the power of distraction.

She will use books, movies, heck with your permission she might even use the pollen to craft a hallucination for you to help take the pain away.

(Ethan's encounter with the demon fetus was able to cause him enough harm that he felt it, Donna would definitely try to see if she could use her powers to trick your brain into not feeling as much pain)

She will also be attached to you at the hip, if you need space or can't be touched during your period, you need to tell her up front. She'll be very clingy when you are this miserable.

A little self indulgence here: while Donna does like her tea, she makes a KILLER hot chocolate. If chocolate brings you joy during your period, she has a constant, steady supply of it sent up to your room.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore engages Doctor mode immediately. For you to be in this much pain is both not normal and completely unacceptable. He's going to do his best to help.

This man absolutely used to be the Village doctor before his mutation, and as a result does Know His Shit. His siblings and mother may infantilize him to a certain degree, but that is mainly because Moreau's main issues are short term memory problems and his obsessive devotion to Mother Miranda that can make him regress. He's still competent as a doctor, and if he needs to reference anything, he still has some copies of medical textbooks.

He was also a Small Town Doctor, meaning he knows how to treat pain without access to traditional medicine, since often times he didn't have access to it.

It doesn't matter if you're not a tea person, you're still getting tea, made with herbs you don't know the name of and couldn't pronounce even if you did.

He doubles this up with more traditional pain relief methods like extra strength ibuprofen and heated compresses on the area. He might even talk you into doing a few exercises--it can help a lot with pain relief.

Still, when he's caring for you, sometimes he has to leave the room. He uses getting you a glass of water or another blanket as an excuse, but it's really so he can take a deep breath and center himself. Moreau is an empathetic man who loves you to pieces, and watching you cry silently into a pillow just...hurts.

Salvatore also does his best to distract you with anything he has on hand, mostly movies. While you two might normally playfully argue about which ones to watch, he will absolutely defer to you. I would recommend taking this time to watch a scary movie if you're a horror fan, there's literally no other time where Moreau would let you get away with it.

He is at your side constantly, and will only give you space if you ask for it. Even then, he will pop back in every few hours to check in.

Now for Fluff stuff: If you're not careful and watch him like he watches you, Moreau will run himself ragged trying to keep you comfortable.

The best solution to preventing this is coaxing him into bed with you. He might let out a couple of token protests, but one look at your pleading face takes all the fight right out of him.

He will cuddle up to you as close as possible and rub little circles into your back or stomach, whatever feels best. If you two are face to face, you can start to feel yourself relax in time with his breathing, and both of you slowly drift off to sleep together.

It's the best you've felt in days ❤️

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is just... So lost...

You are writhing in agony in your bed, sobbing into a pillow, and so obviously suffering. He HATES to see you like this, because you're hurting and he doesn't know how to fix it.

Karl wants to hurt the things that hurt you, but when it's your own body rebelling against you and causing you pain...He wants to make it better for you but he can't.

He swallowed his pride IMMEDIATELY and called Moreau to the factory. Heisenberg might consider The Lord of the Reservoir to be a little slow in the head, but he used to be a doctor, and Karl is taking zero chances with your health.

He also pops by the Duke to pick up any kind of pain relief possible--Karl literally brings back 8 different brands of acetaminophen, hot water bottles, cocaine, opium, and enough alcohol to give an elephant a blackout. (Maybe he can get you to pass out long enough that you'll sleep through the worst of it?)

You will have to ask directly for cuddles if you want them--as handsy and clingy as Heisenberg is, he is so Bad At Feelings that he will just hover in the corner and work on projects to keep his hands busy. He doesn't know if you want to be touched, and is afraid to ask...but he really wants to keep an eye on you anyway.

[fruggo]

I’m not gonna lie this would be the first time I requested something so if I do something wrong I’m really sorry,

Can I request Quentin, Leon, Steve, and Frank meeting a female reader who, before the entity took her, had already faced off her own killer?

And this made her kinda tough? Like she knows what she’s doing

oh my gosh thank you so much!! this is my first ever request to fulfill so we’re in this together :DD seriously i really appreciate you!

i decided to do a headcanon kind of format for this, i hope that’s okay! also these are my absolute favorite boys aaahhh this is so fun for a first request

the boys x tough f!reader (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: swearing, reader kicks frank in the shins

word count: ~700-1k each (sorry if it’s too long…i kind of got really excited and uhhh maybe i got carried away,, yeah. sorry)

(also i'll be honest quentin's is not my best. that was the one that got eaten by the tumblr abyss and i had to write all over again, and it just didn't come out the same way that i wanted it to at first :( i did the other boys hoping i'd get some inspiration to fix it afterwards, but i got kind of stuck. so it's not my favorite, but i hope you like it okay! i want to write better stuff for quentin in the future, he is my favorite sleepy boy <3)

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

when you arrived in the realm, everyone thought you would be the same as the others—frightened, confused, and overwhelmed. but you took this nightmarish challenge in stride, adapting to your surroundings quickly and learning far faster than anybody else had.

your past experiences had made you independent and sometimes distrustful, so once you had the gist of things, you didn’t need (or want) anybody to tell you what to do. and nobody was inclined to, either—your instincts naturally told you what to do and when.

the first time you met quentin was a little awkward, i wont lie. you were wary of speaking to the other survivors; you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again.

it was the beginning of a trial. the nurse’s fatigued shrills could be heard all the way from the edge of the wrecker’s yard, but you immediately started work on a generator, unafraid. a few minutes passed, when soft footsteps indicated someone’s approach. it was quentin—he started to work on the wires without hesitation.

you were a little surprised, only because the other survivors usually left you to your own devices. you got the impression that maybe they were intimidated by you, which you didn’t particularly mind. but you wouldn’t particularly mind some company now and then, either.

it was comfortably silent for a while, before quentin spoke up.

“what’s your name?” he asked, gaze still focused on the wires.

hesitating a little, you told him. then you said, “and you’re quentin, right?” you already knew most everybody’s name just from observation.

“that i am,” he replied.

then it was quiet for a while.

very quiet.

well, what were you supposed to say now?

the silence was deafening and very, very uncomfortable to you. normally you were okay with a quiet atmosphere, but it was the kind of silence that buzzed in your ears, chewed at your stomach, filled the area as if it were something solid. man, what were you supposed to say—

it was then that you realized poor quentin had fallen asleep, his face smooshed onto the generator. his cheek was now covered in grease and grime.

it made you smile—only a little. you finished repairing the generator on your own, causing quentin to wake with a start and bang his head on the pole protruding from the machine. he swore like a sailor until he realized where he was, smiling sheepishly.

“sorry, i wanted you to have your nap. you looked really tired,” you said. you also couldn’t stop admiring the dark grease on his face—it was really quite funny. and no, you weren’t going to say anything about it. it could stay there a little longer.

you spent the rest of the trial running the nurse around the whole wrecker’s yard, only suffering one injury until the end. quentin had no idea how you had been here for such little time and already knew how to outplay the nurse, one of the most difficult killers to survive against. he still didn’t know how to do it well himself, so he was thankful for you.

however, once the exit gates were opened, you found yourself in a bad spot. the nurse had caught you in an empty clearing with nowhere to hide or predict her moves, and she downed you instantly. quentin cringed hearing your agonized scream as you were hooked.

there was no way you were dying on his watch. once he was sure the nurse was gone, he gently lifted you from the hook, pulling out his medical kit to begin patching up your shoulder.

despite the pain, you had enough energy to smile at him and say, “thanks, nap boy.”

quentin feigned offense with a wry grin, pulling out some gauze. “is that all i’m going to be to you? nap boy?”

you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “maybe you won’t be if you get me out of here.”

“that won’t be a problem," he smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

“show me the gates and then we’ll talk, nap boy.”

from then on, quentin became your go-to source for supplies and general comfort. you weren't scared of this place, but it was nice to know you had somebody who would really be there for you.

he would often fall asleep on your shoulder at the campfire--he really was a nap boy, and you would never let him live that down.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon could not tear his eyes away from you the first time you arrived in the realm. your presence was strong; he could tell you weren’t one to back away from a fight.

most of the survivors had been (rightly) confused and disoriented when they popped into the realm, but you tried to accept it quickly. you didn’t like it, in fact all you wanted was just to go home, but you came to terms with it and jumped into trials headfirst like an insane person.

that was the courageous part about you—maybe you were scared, but you did scary shit anyways. in fact, you did scary shit to spite the fear, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to overcome it.

and leon couldn’t lie, that was cool as hell.

you had tunnel vision and didn’t pay much notice to the other survivors; you were too focused on learning about this place and getting out of trials. having gone through some real shit, being here hardly came as a surprise to you. if you were going to be here forever, what was the point in mourning? might as well just accept it and try your hardest to survive. maybe someday this sick game would end, but for now, you were prepared to fight for your life and that’s all you could really focus on.

your first trial was not the best. even though you were resourceful, you didn’t know what the objective was yet, so you weren’t sure where to start other than analyzing your surroundings. luckily for you, leon kennedy was one of your teammates.

after being downed immediately by bubba’s chainsaw and tossed onto a hook, you were amazingly resilient to the pain. leon was the one to lift you from the hook, and he took out his medkit to help patch your wound, but you flinched away from him before he could touch you.

he was puzzled. “what’s wrong?” he asked. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to help you.

you hesitated and looked him over before mumbling, “i’m fine.” and you tried to stand on your own, beginning to limp away. you didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

leon sighed, following after you. “let me help, that must hurt a lot.”

“i told you, cop, i’m fine. i don’t want your help, okay?”

leon opened his mouth to insist, but decided against it. if you didn’t want his help, then he shouldn’t butt in. that wouldn’t keep him from watching over you, though.

but then leon called after you (perhaps a little smugly), “do you even know what you’re supposed to do?”

begrudgingly, you stopped walking. no, you didn’t know what to do. “i’ll figure it out,” you said over your shoulder. and you would; you had been through enough to survive any situation thrown at you.

but maybe one pointer couldn’t hurt.

“do a generator,” he told you, giving you a cheeky grin when you turned around to look at him. he was lucky he was cute.

the first part of the trial had been rough, but after that first hook you were doing a lot better. you managed to find your own medkit from a chest, and you learned how to fix a few generators. you found it came pretty naturally, and were satisfied that you hadn’t needed anyone’s help (except leon’s. but you didn’t have to admit that yet). when the killer came near, you skillfully avoided him and stayed hidden as much as you could.

you were also pretending that you didn't notice leon hovering near you. he was not very good at being subtle; he was obviously trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. it was cute. you didn't want to ruin his fun, so you didn't say anything about it.

it wasn’t long before the gates were powered and in the process of being opened. you saw a red glowing light in the distance, and assumed that must be your destination. you put all of your remaining energy into sprinting to the exit, adrenaline pumping through your body.

but then there was a heartbeat. a heartbeat so loud it filled your head, splitting your concentration. it wasn’t your own heartbeat--it was the killer’s.

the sound of the cannibal’s chainsaw roared in your ears and pain tore through your body; you collapsed to the ground with a cry of agony. shit, that really hurt, and you weren't sure you could ever get used to it. eternity sure seemed a lot longer than you had first anticipated. would you really be here forever? doing this over and over?

biting your lip until it bled, you tried to crawl towards the gate, dragging the lower half of your body with much difficulty. it was no use, though--you hardly got anywhere, and you could already feel the killer picking you up. just like that, you were going to die? you had been so close..

but as you were being placed on bubba’s shoulder, you saw a flash of a police uniform and a blinding light, and before you knew it, you had been dropped to the ground, the exit gate looking awfully lovely and much more desirable than a meat hook. you gathered all of your strength and began limping forward, when suddenly you felt an arm firmly wrap around your waist and your own was placed around someone else’s shoulder.

leon. when you looked up at him, all he did was give you a calm smile, which you felt inclined to return. with him supporting you, the two of you made it safely to the exit and began the long traipse back to the campfire, where you would find yourself spending a lot of time together.

from then on, you always remained quite unfazed by the events of the entity’s realm—the only thing that ever made you feel weak was being around leon. he was just so cute :]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

you had never met someone so persistent in your life. from the moment the entity stole you here, steve harrington was after you, and there was next to nothing you could do about it. he sure was living up to his self-proclaimed role of babysitter.

you told him you were fine, that you didn’t need him following you around, but the asshole did it anyways.

“how cool do you think you are?” you asked him at some point, to which he simply shrugged with that stupid grin on his lips.

“i can take care of myself.” “i really don’t need you to baby me, steve.” “steve, if you don’t leave me alone i’m going to break your kneecaps.” these were all things that had come from your mouth multiple times recently. you were seriously thinking about that last one now.

you knew you could make it on your own, and you only wished he would give you a chance to prove that to him so he would leave you alone. but it was like he had attached himself to your hip, and for some reason the entity seemed to really enjoy putting you in trials with him. great.

he was a dumbass and a sweetheart, and you weren’t sure which one of those took higher priority. you knew he only meant well, but god, you wanted to be independent for once. why did he think he had to protect you so much? you arrived here after running for your fucking life, fighting off your long-time pursuer, and living in awful, ever-changing conditions. you had seen your closest friends die, right before your eyes. you didn’t need to be sheltered or coddled, but you couldn’t seem to make steve understand that, no matter how much you fought with him.

steve would literally throw himself in front of the killer for you. he clicked his flashlight in the killer’s face if they were after you, and he would swear and cuss until they chased him out of pure annoyance. it got him killed countless times, and you didn’t know whether to call him stupid or selfless. probably both.

eventually you decided to just copy him and see how it worked out. you weren’t scared, you had no reason to be. you wanted to show him you could be just as flashy as him.

as you arrived into a trial, steve right across from you (of course), you smiled to yourself. you had brought your best flashlight, and you were prepared to use it. the two of you began to work on a generator together, making light conversation as usual.

“if the killer comes here, hide. i’ll take him away.” “fuck you, steve harrington.” “sure, if you really want to.” “why don’t you ever leave me alone?” “it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” “i could punch you right now.” “but you won’t. i’m too good to look at.”

you know, the usual friendly stuff.

you purposefully connected the wrong wires, making the generator spark and sputter. “oops. oh no, the killer must be on their way,” you dead-panned. steve gave you an unamused look.

and indeed, only a few moments later, you heard the sound of the hillbilly and his chainsaw roaring in your direction. the two of you split up, and the killer’s weapon collided with the generator, making an awful screeching sound.

and that was when the chaos started.

steve began hollering and flicking his flashlight into the sky as usual, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same. steve looked at you in astonishment, pausing, but then he started again, even louder. you tried to outdo him.

“HEY BILLY! FUCK YOU!” you screamed, ignoring steve’s attempts to get you to stop. “COME AFTER ME, SHITHEAD!”

steve started actually yelling, just yelling, while you continued to swear meaninglessly. the poor hillbilly looked confused and overwhelmed, and eventually he couldn’t take the noise anymore--he just left, opting to find the other survivors while the two of you sorted out whatever it is you obviously had against each other.

it was dead silent now that the killer was gone, and you and steve were both out of breath. but as soon as you made eye contact, laughter bubbled up from your chest, causing you to collapse against the tree and slide to the ground. your voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

and then he was laughing too, stumbling over to plop down next to you, and your giggling started up a whole new round.

after the laughter died down, you stared at your hands, ignoring steve’s gaze on the side of your face until you couldn’t anymore.

“what?” you asked, finally looking at him. he was smiling all stupid again. “what?” you insisted, fighting off a grin of your own. you hated when he looked at you like that, because it made you want to smile back at him.

“nothing,” he said coyly, laughing again. you punched his shoulder playfully.

“c’mon harrington, when have you ever held your tongue before? spit it out.”

he nodded, that was true. so he said it. “i just like you, that’s all.”

oh. oh.

realization dawned upon your face. “is that why you always--”

“yes,” he interrupted you. “i thought it was obvious. man, you’re clueless sometimes.”

oh.

huh.

you guessed…maybe…steve harrington wasn’t that annoying. maybe.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

to say you were feisty was an understatement. frank hated your guts at first because you were so good at evading him, which he would never admit. but the thing that made him really mad was that if he ever downed you, you would kick at him and try to trip him over, like actually bruise his shins. it hurt like hell.

this lead to his decision to constantly tunnel you, and he would laugh at you while you were on the hook, too. so you hated his guts just as much as he did yours. it was a mutual guts-hating situation.

your teammates always felt bad for you, but they also thought you were a badass and knew you could handle yourself. you hadn’t told anybody where you’d come from or what had happened to you, but they knew it was something interesting. there was a reason that nothing that happened here really got to you.

sometimes things escalated even further than shin-kicking. there was one time where frank had managed to grab the back of your shirt as you tried to vault a window, and as he pulled you closer to himself, you elbowed him in the neck and squirmed out of his grasp. while he stood stunned and lost for breath, you kicked the back of his locked knee so that he fell to the ground and bonked his forehead on the wall—the classic dead leg.

this was very funny to you.

not to him.

while you ran away, laughing to yourself, frank’s anger built and built. he was tired of letting you make a fool of him, and it was time to be serious about things.

he ignored you for the rest of the trial, forming a plan in his mind. there was something he needed to do after this, so he made sure to kill everybody else to please the entity—he couldn’t get caught up, it would derail his anger train. he also didn’t feel like getting kicked in the balls or some shit, so he let you out without a problem.

frank did some brooding at the ormond lodge before he was ready to go through with his plan. and his shins really, really hurt, so susie helped him ice them before he left.

the masked killer made his way to the survivor camp rather hastily. when he arrived, he saw you pacing around, deep in thought.

so he threw a rock at you.

it was just a pebble, really. maybe it could be considered a rather large pebble, but frank insisted in his mind that it was a pebble.

“ow, what the fuck!” you cursed, rubbing your sore shoulder and looking around to find the culprit. and then your eyes laid on him.

he looked so sultry standing there at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and mask smiling, you could almost laugh at him. he acted so serious, when really, he was just an angry and misbehaving twink.

you put on your best serious face, genuinely trying not to be amused by this, and strode over to the killer.

“what do you want?” you asked confidently, mirroring his body language and crossing your arms.

frank bristled at your approach, as if trying to make himself look bigger. he wished you were scared of him like everyone else, it would really make him feel better.

“i want a truce,” he said.

you almost burst into laughter at that. a truce? what the fuck for?

he said was willing to stop tunneling and camping you if you stopped beating the shit out of him with your sticky little hands. he didn’t say it like that, but you knew that was what he meant. you, a survivor, could beat up frank, a killer, and it upset him and his little ego :(

just to humor him, you agreed. and frank nodded.

“but,” you continued, raising your eyebrows, “you have to give me something else.”

he started to say “no, no way—“ but you interrupted him: “you’re asking me to stop fighting for myself and just give in when you catch me. i think i deserve something other than just not being tunnelled.”

frank glared at you under his mask, thankful that you couldn’t see. “okay. whatever. what do you want?”

“i want to see your face.” you thought this was a good choice, something you could lord over him forever. it was surely only a win for you. his face was something private, and you would be the only survivor to know.

of course you wanted to see his face, frank thought. everyone did; they wanted to find out if he was good-looking. which, according to him, he was. if you ever asked the other members of the legion, susie was the only one to actually respond. she felt obligated to compliment him as she was basically his sister. so she would say frank is handsome in a ruggedy, jess mariano kind of way. you wondered how she knew what gilmore girls was, since that came after her time, but susie would never give away her secret.

so with a sigh, frank agreed to let you see his face. he didn’t really care, all he wanted was to stop having bruises on his shins. it was kind of miserable, and the entity never did anything to help him.

when he said that you couldn’t do it here, and you asked why the fuck not, he said it was because some other survivor might see. you decided he had a fair point, so reluctantly you let him drag you all the way to ormond.

when he took off his mask, your first thought, whether you wanted it to be or not, was “wow! he really does look like jess mariano! but with tattoos! hot!”

you were lost for words. you didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you sure weren’t expecting him to be that attractive.

he could tell your thoughts from the look on your face.

this had been per your request, and you were planning on this being something you could hold over his head, but the situation had turned into something that he could hold over your head.

oh dear. frank morrison now held pretty boy privilege over you.

and soon you would find out that he was going to keep tunnelling you anyways.

listen i've been watching a lot of gilmore girls and i just get jess vibes from frank, except our boy is more of a twinky idk shdjfhsf i love this guy sm

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Brothers and Side Characters Go on a Road Trip!

So, Diavolo, Lord of the Devildom, wants to go on a road trip for reasons unknown. You know what? Screw it, the reason is because Dia wants to do a fun human thing because MC brought it up during tea time. No one can defy the king, so TIME FOR A ROAD TRIP!

Shut Up! HE DOESN’T NEED DIRECTIONS! (Lucifer)

He was going to turn that car around. That’s it, he was going to leave. Someone else drive.

I hope your MC likes staticky traffic updates because that’s what Lucifer constantly had on the radio.

Obviously, some of the brothers complained, so Lucifer put on Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9. HELL YEAH TURN IT UP DJ!

Lol JK no one can car-dance to classical music. Just go back to the staticky traffic updates…

Lucifer would have preferred it if MC or Barbatos were riding shotgun next to him, but Diavolo ended up getting it. Dia is constantly asking Lucifer to stop so he can take pictures of the most mundane shit.

Lucifer stopped stopping after the first fifteen requests.

“I’m not stopping at McDonalds- hang on. Hi McDonald’s employee, one black coffee please.”

In true father fashion, Lucifer got lost and REFUSED to ask for directions. They were lost for five hours before Diavolo finally asked:

“Lucifer, you can turn on the GPS right?”

“Yes, but I don’t trust it.”

Everyone screamed in frustration and were all fully prepared to abandon Lucifer at the side of the road.

Please… can someone else drive? Anyone else…

Are We There Yeeeet..? (Mammon)

Okay, so, Mammon was one of two ways on that road trip. One: complete ADHD daydream zoned out. Or type Two: AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRREEEEE WEEEEEEEE THEEEEEEEEERRRRRREEEE YEEEEEEET???!

He wanted to stop and go to all the tourist traps, by the end of the road trip Mammon wanted to open his own.

The Avatar of Greed loves driving, problem is, he’s used to driving off into the sunset as a lone bachelor, not with his friends and brothers in the car as well.

He only got to drive once, and it was awful. 0/10 would not recommend. Luke thought MC was driving and called shotgun…

Mammon just turns on the radio for music and hopes something good is on at least ONE channel.

STOP WEAVING BETWEEN LANES YOU MORON-

Not all of Mammon’s time driving was bad, the combined powers of Luke and Mammon meant that everyone stopped at a petting zoo at the side of the road. Everyone had a good time, even though when they got back into the car they all smelled like a farm.

Did anyone else hear that oinking in the car-

*Vibes to Music in the Backseat* (Levi)

After being cruelly dragged from his room and placed in this stupid van… he just climbed into the backseat and put on his headphones.

Maybe anime openings could drown out this problem…

Levi only drove for fifteen minutes, it was the most terrifying fifteen minutes of everyone’s lives.

Mario Kart is not a substitute for proper driving school!

Listen- Levi actually saved the entire trip, after stopping at a gas station everyone noticed that Levi never complained about what was on the radio because he was wearing headphones, so everyone bought their own pair and the car trip was so much more pleasant…

No matter how many times Lucifer told Levi to get his feet off the seat, he wouldn’t listen, he was GAMING and they took him away from his gaming chair! HE NEEDED TO SCRUNCH HIMSELF UP LIKE A GOBLIN TO FOCUS DAMMIT!

Whenever the car would stop so everyone could get out and take a picture or look at something, Levi had to be practically dragged out of the car and manually posed for the pictures.

“Is this one of those vans with TVs in them? I brought the first five volumes of TSL on DVD!”

While Satan was driving they stopped at a lake, and Levi burst out of the car and made friends with all the lake fish.

He was still soaking wet when they had to leave.

I’m a Responsible Driver- IS THAT AN OLD BOOKSTORE?! (Satan)

Satan, we believed in you…

Our favourite nerd wanted to stop at any and all historical spots or cool looking bookstores he saw.

When everyone went to buy headphones, he got a pair with cat-ears on them! Because obviously!

Satan’s a responsible driver, and he’s not as prone to road rage as one might think. He has patience, remember in the Jobs event when he worked in customer service? Those kinds of jobs take a godlike amount of self control to do.

Asmo called shotgun and Satan got to have the wonderful experience of having his ear chatted off by his dear brother.

Satan was not about to have fast food for the eighth time in four days, if everyone wanted food, he’d stop at a restaurant.

He was terribly sorry to anyone who needed to use the restroom, but they should have gone at the last rest stop.

When Satan stopped at the lake, he gave everyone a long lecture on the historical significance of the place, then noticed that Levi was being crowned king of the lake and decided he should cut his history lesson short before Levi abandoned his family to chill with the fish forever.

I wanted Satan to be the normal chill one with the radio… I really did… but deep in my subconscious I feel like Satan would put on one of those language learning DVDs so he can learn another language on the go like a total dork.

Road Rage (Asmodeus)

No one saw this coming but- Asmo gets some B A D road rage. Someone cuts him off? “Hi hello dear, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS?!” Someone doesn’t use a turn signal? “YOU BRAIN DEAD MORON! LEARN TO DRIVE!” Someone just pisses him off? “*prolonged horn sound*”

It’s just… the car trip was so taxing on the poor Avatar of Lust… he was crammed into the middle seat for the majority of the trip… he had to give his sleeping mask to Belphie… Beel was getting crumbs all over him and he couldn’t move over… just so tragic…

Solomon called shotgun and it was the greatest couple of hours of his life. He got a front row seat to Lucifer and Barbatos dragging Asmo back into the car because he tried to pick a fight with another driver.

Asmo wasn’t having a good time…

He didn’t want to stop for any gas station food or go through a drive-thru so it was another expensive restaurant trip. Rest In Peace to the gang’s wallets.

When he wasn’t driving, Asmo was loudly talking with MC or talking on the phone. It was a blessing in disguise when they went through an area with bad phone reception and Asmo finally had to shut up.

Oh well… at least he got a few nice pictures for Devilgram.

MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! (Beel)

We all know Beel is massive, right? His head is touching the ceiling and every speed-bump hurt.

He’s the one begging to stop at every gas station or fast food place they pass by.

Beel’s section in the car was covered in empty bags of Doritos by the end of the trip.

When Beel got to drive, Belphie got shotgun! Hell yeah dream team!

Poor Beel, he got distracted and ended up somehow popping a tire. He pulled over next to a farm, changed the tire, then got back in the car and kept driving.

Uh… there was an awful lack of snoring next to Beel- OH FUCK THEY LEFT BELPHIE!

Belphie was found sleeping next to the cows on the farm they had stopped at earlier.

The cows didn’t want to give their sleepy god up so easily…

After that… Beel didn’t want to drive anymore…

“Look, cows.” (Belphie)

I really need to stop with the cow jokes but I CAN’T

*snore*

Belphie’s crammed between Beel and MC for most of the trip and is probably drooling all over poor MC’s lap or shoulder.

Beware, he jolts up randomly and looks around in a panic before he realizes he’s in a car. This happens every three hours.

Belphie’s not allowed to drive, he’d fall asleep. But when Lucifer takes the wheel and puts on that fucking staticky radio, Belphie forms an idea.

“*ahem* four thousand bottles of beer on the wall, four thousand bottles of beer,”

Mission success, Lucifer wanted to tear his hair out.

Belphie ended up asking to stop when they get to a stretch of road with no streetlights, everyone got out of the and stared at the stars.

…listen, it’s a miracle no one got axe murdered but the stars were gorgeous.

Remember when I said Satan put on those language learning DVDs? Yeah uh…. Belphie woke up from his last nap of the trip almost fully fluent in Spanish. At least one person gained a new skill on this trip…

Oooo, Look at Thaaaaat! (Diavolo)

Even though the side characters were in a different car most of the time, sometimes people would switch to the other car if they met up at a gas station.

By the end of the road trip Dia looked like one of those tourist dads, Hawaiian shirt and all.

Dia can’t drive

He’s absorbing human culture… and human culture involves ordering everything at this random Wendy’s.

Diavolo’s camera roll is so unbelievably full by the end of the trip and he refuses to delete ANY of the pictures.

Most of the pictures are of really weird and boring stuff, like traffic signs and trees, but the picture he ends up printing out and putting in a picture frame is a picture of the whole group at the petting zoo having a grand old time.

He wanted to take home a baby goat but Barbatos said that wasn’t a good idea :(

Help. (Barbatos)

So, it could have been worse for Barbatos, he could have been stuck in the car with the brothers and MC.

Dia always had the seat up front, but when he left the car to go hang out with the dude-squad, Solomon got the passenger seat.

Solomon decided it would be a good idea to pester Barbatos to go faster and take weird shortcuts through (probably not legal) backroads and creepy forest paths.

Good thing Barbatos, Luke, and Simeon had functioning brain cells and knew that’s how horror movies began.

Barbatos stopped for fast food once and only once. It’s not healthy!

He’s the only driver to take suggestions for music, meaning that the side characters’ car was the best one of the two.

“SOMEONE GET THE BARF BAG!”(Simeon)

He’s just… he’s just trying his best not to vomit…

Simeon thought the car would be a good place to get some writing done while they drove down long stretches of road. Simeon was wrong in that assumption.

With his head down way too much while the car zoomed down the highway, Simeon felt himself getting *very* sick about four hours in.

He was worried he may have accidentally eaten something of Solomon’s… but nope. The angel was carsick.

Luke had the important job of patting Simeon on the back as he leaned over the barf-bag while Solomon dry heaved up front.

Hurry and open the windows before Solomon barfs too!!!!

Other than the car sickness, he had the job of making sure Luke was entertained, there was a good hour of eye-spy until they just got to a stretch of forest.

After that, Simeon realized that he could just give Luke free permission to ramble about whatever he wanted and that would keep the little guy entertained for HOURS.

What do You Mean I Can’t Legally Make This Turn?! (Solomon)

Shifty bastard can drive, problem is, he doesn’t care about the laws of the road.

He ended up getting pulled over after breaking approximately 11 traffic laws in less than ten minutes.

“License and registration.” “Yeah yeah yeah…” “…sir, this license expired in 1989.” “…shit.”

Solomon gunned it and managed to use his magic to hide the car and evade the very confused traffic cop.

Luke was completely aghast at the flagrant law breaking, but Solomon’s excuse was that the 80s were a lawless wasteland and he completely forgot he legally had to update his license.

He’s an equally obnoxious passenger as he is driver, but at least no one in the car is bored.

“You know, back in the day cars didn’t have seatbelts.” “Solomon put your seatbelt back on.”

…Can we keep it? (Luke)

He was against this from the start. A road trip? With those nasty demons? No! Never!

Okay fine… maybe he wanted to see some more of the human world… he agreed to go.

After helping Simeon through his car sickness, he misheard the other car say that MC would be driving, and Luke wanted to hang out with his third parent 🥺

That’s how he ended up riding shotgun next to Mammon. It started out rough, but when the two spotted the petting zoo it was all sunshine and rainbows.

Luke made friends with all the animals! He was like a little Disney Prince. He got especially attached to this one piglet, it was a surprise to Simeon that the goodbye wasn’t tearful.

Luke smuggled that piglet out of the petting zoo and they were all over fifty miles away before anyone noticed.

Of course, everyone was just shocked that Luke had stolen something, but he looked so cute holding the little piggy… awwww…

The bros obviously joked that Luke had gone to the dark side and was totally evil because he had taken the pig, much to the poor kid��s dismay.

Simeon tried to convince Luke that he needed to return the piglet but Luke was adamant that he could totally take good care of it.

Welp, time for Lucifer to fix this.

“Luke, you need to go put the pig back, it’s not yours.”

“No! I’ll take good care of it!”

“That doesn’t matter, you stole it. It’s not your property, do you want to end up a scummy thief like Mammon?”

“No not at all. Let’s go return the pig.”

“THAT’S ALL IT TOOK?!”

[missinghan]

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

[mrpenguinpants]

Razor: Cuddle HCs

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the compliment^^ I absolutely adore Razor, he was my favourite to play until Childe came out. Who is Diluc? Sorry? Claymore user?? Empowered autos??? Yeah no, I only see Razor sorry. Hahh, I’m still trying to grind all the materials I would need to 90 Xiao but it’s hard;;

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Today’s appreciation post goes to svnflowery. Actual sweetheart oml. One reply and I’m already smitten (❤´艸｀❤). One of the few people I can shout my conspiracy theories to about a fictional game but I appreciate you. Really it just devolves into me crying about how upsetting character stories are;; Seriously if you ever want to chat with me, my dms are open do not be shy. I love lore talk so goddamn much you have no idea.

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Semi Part 1: General HCs

Semi Part 2: Pre-Relationship HCs

Semi Part 4: Jealous HCs

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​​  @mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​

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Razor: Cuddle HCs

During your first interactions with Razor, he was a bit aloof and quiet. He never came off as rude but he didn’t seem like the cuddly type you would have expected. Though, he did live with wolves his entire life. It was cute to see his head popping out of the bushes when he noticed it was just you and running over. He didn’t smile as much as you would have hoped when he saw you but you could get a small one or even a laugh on lucky day’s when you both went exploring or hunting. After spending some more time together and having Razor warm up to you, it was almost like his entire personality did a 180 flip and he became this affectionate ball of fluff. The day he announced you as one of his Lupical was the first day he ever smiled full heartedly at you.

The first time you cuddled was during a really bad rainstorm. You could hear the thunder and some area’s of Wolvendom even sparked blue static before lightening crashed down. It’d be safe to say that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to try and walk home in this kind of weather condition. Razor seemed to agree as he quickly led you to a small cave hidden under some moss while telling you to avoid the trees unless you wanted to get struck. It was a bit of a tight fit if you both didn’t want to get pelted by rain but it was oddly comforting. Feeling Razor’s soft hair brush against your cheek and feeling him press against your arm. That was until lightening struck down a tree near you both scaring you out of your skin.

Razor subtly jumped at your jumpiness and noticed your shivering and quickly huddled up to you. He felt how cold you were against him but any fire you both could have started wouldn’t have any room where it was safe. Plus all the wood was probably wet at this point. He quickly shuffled closer to you and placed his head on top of yours and letting his body drape over you. It made you short-circuit for a moment before reminding yourself, Razor’s naturally affectionate with people he trusts and he had been raised by wolves. This was something he and his family did during rainstorms. There wasn’t anything wrong with this, just him trying to warm you up. There was no hidden meaning behind this and you should stop over-thinking and let your heart be still or else you might have a bigger problem on your hands.

Razor doesn’t cuddle in the traditional way, he doesn’t necessarily embrace you from behind in a back hug or anything, he was raised by wolves so he cuddles the way they do. At first it confused you the first time you huddle together during that thunderstorm and he just nuzzled into your neck and was basically trapping you under his body but it was a comforting weight, even if the hard ground wasn’t the most pleasant. His soft gray hair was a bit matted due to the rain but you didn’t mind one bit. As much as you tried not to compare Razor to a puppy it really did feel like you were cuddling up to one. Being able to wrap your arms around him, running your hands through his hair, and listening to the rain fall made you slowly drift off into sleep.

Razor’s always been amazed at how soft you are in your own way. After spending so much time living as a wolf, he had scars running over his body and his hands were rough from the grass and the occasional wolfhook that managed to scratch him. The scar on his cheek always made you wonder if they still hurt as you gently ran your hands over them but he never seemed to stir. Whenever you both cuddle Razor ends up falling asleep first but he’s a bit of a light sleeper. You can’t really make any sudden movements but just so long as you’re quiet he won’t be startled awake. Razor is always running around or taking care of his family that it makes you feel soft to see him finally relax, that he’s comfortable enough to cuddle up to you and fall asleep. Plus whenever he wakes up he seems so drowsy that you can’t help but internally squeal.

Sometimes when you’re stressed or just tired and lonely, you’ll go see Razor. He can catch your mood in your scent, not sure on how that works but you really hope it’s just wolf instinct that he’s picked up and not other things, and you can sit down and open your arms and he’ll run up and cuddle into your embrace. His hair is so soft despite being in the wild that you can’t help but sigh into his shoulder and nuzzle your cheek into it. When you’re with Razor, there is no such thing as personal boundary unless directly stated. You might have lost some sense of embarrassment or self-restraint considering how Razor acts that you have to catch yourself from petting Bennet or Sucrose because they both remind you of him. Which ends up making you feel a bit clingy and you find yourself back in Wolvendom searching for a head of gray hair to pop up from the bushes.

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Every fiber of my being want’s to stop calling Razor a dog or giving him dog qualities but goddammit he’s such a goodboy.

A bit of a delay but I managed to finish my assignment on time to finish writing this. I’m gonna make these a bit shorter since I don’t have time to write a full fic at the bottom, sorry;; I woke up because I forgot to post this so I go back to sleep now. When I’m awake again I’ll reply to asks^^

[uvobreakmylegs]

Importunity

a lot of people wanted a Shalnark fic so here ya go~

💕Happy Valentine’s Day💕

Warnings: kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of death, threats of violence

You'd gotten out.

Your brain was a little too high on the adrenaline of a successful escape for you to think over how exactly you had managed it, but you'd gotten out. The months of living with the man named Shalnark had been slowly wearing you down, exhausting you and at times you considered giving in to him. To 'let him love you', as he put it. Things would've been easier if you could just resign yourself to him and try to live that sweet lie that this relationship was normal and also one that you were still willingly part of.

But resilience held strong, and after many, many attempts at escape, you finally managed to make it to the outside while he was away.

Of course, you were only done with the first part of this plan.

For the second half, you needed to get out of the area before Shalnark came back. And so you were speed-walking through the busy streets of the city, keeping your head down for fear of Shalnark coming back and spotting you. You had never gotten this far before; if he caught you, whatever punishment you would receive for this attempt would be much worse than what he'd done to you previously. And whatever he did to you, he would have that same sickeningly-sweet smile on his face the entire time.

How could a person look so cheerful while they hurt someone else?

At one point you did like Shalnark. You would have gone as far as to say that you loved him. He was nice, if a little bit odd, but after your bad breakup with your ex, Shalnark felt like a breath of fresh air. He was happy to give you attention and eager to go out with you. When the two of you were together, his focus was 100% on you. And the sex was actually good. Shalnark was everything your ex wasn't, and you were happy that you had met such a man.

But after a little while of dating, once the exhilarating feeling of entering a new relationship had died down, red flags started popping up. Like how obsessive Shalnark was when it came to you. How he'd regularly go through your phone to delete contacts of yours, or how he had downloaded weird apps to your phone and computer so he could “keep an eye on you”. The phone made a little bit of sense, maybe, but the computer? You'd questioned him and tried to get him to uninstall those apps off your devices, but he refused.

“Shalnark, do you not trust me?”

At the time, you assumed that this behavior came from a fear that you would cheat on him, and that hurt you more than you had anticipated.

He sensed that as well, as it was one of the few times his cheerful expression vanished, watching you as tears began to well up in your eyes at the thought that he believed you to be a cheater.

Shalnark grabbed you then, holding you against his chest.

“It isn't that at all,” he assured you, stroking your hair.

“I really do want to make sure that you're safe. This is all just in case of a worst-case scenario. If something bad happens and I need to find you immediately.”

He pulled away from you slightly, cupping your face with both hands as he smiled at you again.

“So don't cry, okay?”

“.... What are you worried about exactly?” you asked.

“Lots of things.”

He didn't give you any answers beyond that.

You tried overlooking it. Tried to keep your mind on the positives, but more red flags kept popping up. How he would leave for long periods of time with no explanation, how when he came back, he was sometimes covered in cuts and bruises, and how he would always brush away your concerns and cheerfully refuse to tell you anything. Whenever he was back, he wouldn't let you be around any of your friends, insisting on taking up every second of free time that you had. But when it came to his private life he was willing to drop everything and leave you without explanation.

You felt like you were being used. And you reached your breaking point when he had tried to insist that you not spend any time with your friends when he was out of town.

“I can't do this anymore,” you said, head in your hands as the two of you stood in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to break up.”

Seconds passed by, and Shalnark said nothing. When you moved your hands aside to look at him, he was still smiling at you.

“I see,” he said.

He didn't sound angry, and for a second you wondered if he had been treating you badly to make you break up with him.

Without another word, he pulled out a strange looking needle.

You didn't remember anything after that.

All you knew was when you awoke next, you were in a completely different room in a completely different apartment with Shalnark standing over you.

“I guess I should have seen it coming,” he said to you, “it seems I pushed you a little too hard. But that's all right. We can start over now.”

You were at a loss for words for a few moments as you struggled to understand the situation.

“Start over?” you finally asked.

“Yep.”

“Shalnark, no. I broke up with you.”

“I don't care. I'm keeping you here,” he answered.

“No. I-I don't want to be here,” you said, shaking your head.

“Please Shalnark. Let me go home.”

He grinned, sitting down on the bed with you and grabbing you when you tried to pull away, leaning in until your foreheads were touching.

“Not a chance,” he whispered.

From there the nightmare worsened. You couldn't leave the apartment, and any time you tried, he would catch you and hurt you. Every time, he told you that he didn't want to do it. That it was your fault because you kept misbehaving.

“Things would be easier if you stopped lying to yourself. I know you still have feelings for me.”

You refused to think about that fact. Even though the way he had been treating you before the kidnapping had hurt you, part of you did still care about him. One part of your stupid brain still cared about this incredibly callous man even after everything he had done had you wanting to give in, and you hated yourself for it. It had to have been an act, right? The way he had been when you first met, and how he claimed that he loved you. There was no way he was capable of it. He just wanted to hurt you for his own sick pleasure, and you vowed to never give in to him. You would get away from him and tell the whole world just how much of a sick fuck he was.

You told him that. In the heat of the moment, you had said it right to his face.

He just smiled, and you blacked out again.

The next morning you had awoken to your whole body aching; your muscles were sore and you could barely move your arms and legs. When you stumbled into the bathroom to inspect yourself you found that there were also several cuts and bruises over your entire body.

“Something the matter?”

Shalnark was standing in the doorway, looking pleased with himself as he looked you over.

“.... Shalnark, what did you do?”

He ignored the question, giving you a closed-eyed smile and asking if you wanted breakfast.

You shook those thoughts from your head. Right now, you needed to concentrate on getting away. Once you were safe and had made certain that Shalnark wouldn't be able to touch you again, you'd find a therapist who could help you deal with your trauma and hopefully then you'd be able to go back to being a regular member of society. But right now, you needed to leave before Shalnark came back from his errand and found you missing.

You followed signs pointing in the direction of the subway, which was most likely the fastest way out and the only form of fast transportation that you could really afford, as the meager pile of change you had managed to collect behind his back was all that you had in terms of cash. Just enough to get you to a station on the outskirts of the city and then you'd figure it out from there. You just needed to get as much distance from him as you possibly could.

The streets were fairly crowded, and you needed to dip and weave your way through several groups of people that were walking far too slow and hindering your escape. You'd bumped into a few people, all of who were asking what your problem was as you hurried away. With all of the time that had passed since you were taken, you were certain that you'd been listed as a missing person, but being recognized as that right now wouldn't do you any good.

You spotted the steps that lead down to the underground subway, and against your better judgment, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you cut through the crowded street to make it down those steps. Things could still go wrong. You knew that. But you were so close and if you could just get onto that train you'd finally be able to get help.

When you were just a few feet away from the top step, a hand grabbed you by the upper arm.

Your mind instantly told you that it was Shalnark, but when you looked to your side, you found an older man with graying hair holding you in place. You didn't recognize him, but he was yelling at you in a language you didn't understand. What you did to earn this reaction, you weren't sure, but it was costing you time and drawing attention as people around you turned to look at the commotion.

“I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying,” you said, trying to pull your arm away from him. Instead his grip became tighter and he grew red in the face, virtually screaming at you.

You didn't need this. And you needed to go now.

“Please let me go,” you tried, but it got you nowhere. The old man was still screaming and the crowd around you had stepped back, creating a circle around the two of you. There were murmurings all around you that slowly grew louder, and at one point you swore you heard someone say your name, but all you could really focus on was the old man and the way your heart was beating in your ears as your panic grew at a rapid pace. This was already a scene and with how unstable the man was acting, it could easily become violent.

You were scared. Scared that this man would hurt you, but more so you were scared that Shalnark would somehow manage to catch wind of this and track you down.

No one helped you as you tried to pull away again, the old man responding by jerking your arm harder, making you cry out. Why was no one helping you?

You kicked him in the groin. Hard.

The old man's screaming finally stopped as he stumbled backwards, releasing his grip on you.

You sprinted away, pushing past the people who had gathered in front of the subway stairs.

Someone grabbed you by the wrist, and you were spun around as you yanked your hand back.

You didn't actually see how close you were to the top step, but the momentum of pulling your wrist away sent you flying back.

You were aware of how your heel slipped over the edge of the top step.

And then you were falling.

Down into the darkened space of the subway station, and away from the crowd of people that stared at you, making no move to stop your fall.

Why was no one helping?

Your head hit the bottom of the stairs.

You probably hit a few other places on your body before you reached the bottom, but it was impossible to tell once you'd hit your head. You were too disoriented to tell what else was hurting; you could only focus on the pain in the back of your skull.

God, it hurt.

The world around you began to blur and you could only make out shapes and colors. At a certain point everything began spinning and you needed to close your eyes to keep from throwing up. You threw up anyway. At least, you thought you did. Trying to move was a mistake, and you were forced to keep still while you heard people talking around you. Hands that were grabbing you, hoisting you up at one point.

When you heard sirens you cracked your eyes open slightly and you were immediately punished by bright white lights above you that forced you to shut your eyes again.

A hand grabbed your face and pulled it to the side, making the pain in your skull shoot through you. Someone was prodding at spot where your head had hit the ground, brushing your hair aside to look at the injury. They weren't being gentle, either.

You were pretty sure you threw up again.

Time passed in bits and pieces.

A lot of talking, though you couldn't make out what was said.

A lot of faces you didn't recognize, looking down at you. They didn't seem happy, and you wondered why.

A lot of different machines, that you were either put into or were placed around you. Needles, tubes and fresh white sheets.

You tried talking a few times. You weren't always sure if there was anyone around when you did, but you always tried when you felt like you had the strength.

It'd be nice to know why you couldn't smell anything.

If you were able to get out any coherent sentences, no one ever answered you.

A sterile white ceiling greeted you when you opened your eyes next. There were noises, too. A dull chatter of voices from beyond the room and a constant beeping that sounded from the machines next to you. The amount of time it took you to realize that the plain white room was a hospital room was embarrassing, really. It should have been the medical equipment that tipped you off, but it was only when you got a look at the plastic barriers around the bed that you were able to deduce where you were.

Your head was still aching. How far had you fallen? Would there be permanent damage? In your haziness you managed to remember that most hospital rooms had a button to call for a nurse. Best to find that and try to get some answers.

But when you tried moving your arm, you found that your wrist was stuck on something.

Looking down, you saw that your wrists and ankles had been strapped to the bed and you were barely able to move them a few inches.

They only strapped people down when they were acting violent, right? Why would they do this to you? You couldn't remember a lot, so maybe you had acted out at one point before you got here? What other reason would they have to tie you down?

Shalnark.

In the midst of your confusion over your current situation, you remembered the man you were trying to get away from. The fact that you were in a situation where you were tied down and completely vulnerable sent a rush of adrenaline through you and you struggled at your restraints. He'd be coming for you, and you did not want to still be here once he found this hospital.

One of the machines next to you began to beep rapidly, signifying your increased heart rate and echoing in the small room.

You hadn't made any progress on freeing yourself when the door burst open, a woman in a white nurse's dress standing in the doorway. She took only a second to assess the situation before she came at you with a needle in hand.

“Please, I can't stay here. He'll find me!” you begged her.

She didn't acknowledge you and only held one of your arms as she injected whatever substance was in the needle into your veins. Whatever it was, it worked fast as you felt yourself beginning to drift back off into sleep.

“He'll hurt me,” you whispered.

The nurse above you scoffed.

“If only.”

Days passed by, and you felt like you were getting better. Not completely better, but your bouts of slipping back into unconsciousness seemed to stop after a point, and the ache in your skull had dulled a bit.

The treatment from the few that were around you didn't get any better. As you slowly recovered from your fall, you were able to see the way in which the nurses regarded you: disgust, mostly, and a fair amount of resentment whenever they needed to come in to take care of you. The one you saw most often was the nurse you had seen when you had first woken up. She was an older woman, and refused to give you any painkillers.

“I knew Regina's mother,” she hissed at you one morning, “what you did to those people was monstrous.”

“.... Who's Regina?”

Your question had earned you a harsh slap to the face, and your evening meal that day came later than usual and tasted worse than the regular hospital meal.

Detectives came in sometimes. Strangely enough they would ask you questions about your relationship with your ex and the last time you had seen him, but they left pretty fast whenever you tried bringing up the fact that you'd been kidnapped. You would only ever get as far as telling them Shalnark's name before they were heading back out the door.

“We'll get the truth when you're well enough to be brought in to the station,” they had said on their last visit.

Based off how you had been doing, it probably wouldn't be long before you were moved to a more secure location.

With no tv or books to occupy your time and the fact that you remained with your hands and legs tied down, there was little else you could do during your time in that room besides think. No one was telling you anything, and you were left to try and figure things out on your own. You had been blamed for something, that was certain, and based off of the reactions of those around you and the fact that you had seen various cops sitting outside your door whenever a nurse came in, it was something serious.

It was Shalnark's doing. It had to have been. Had he framed you for a crime?

Those blackouts you would occasionally have came to mind, along with that morning you had awoken to your entire body feeling sore and overworked. It had been reasonable to suspect that he had done something to you during those times, but you had assumed he was fucking you in your sleep or something. It had never occurred to you that he was using you to do something more.

But aside from that, it was strange he was taking so long to come and get you.

Moving fast was the only way you potentially had any chance of getting away from him, and for you to have not seen him once since your very public apprehending didn't feel right. Once he had figured out where you were, surely he would have been fast in taking you back. It would have been easier than ever if he had come immediately after your fall. The fact that you had remained her for so long could only mean that he was planning something.

You remembered the detectives' words, on how they would be moving you to the police station once you got better. If Shalnark wasn't planning on coming into the hospital to get you, was he waiting for your relocation in order to make his move?

You needed to get out of the hospital before it came to that, you decided.

A frenzied escape attempt with no thought put into it was bound to get you caught. You had learned that much during your time trapped with Shalnark. You needed to keep calm and not draw any attention to yourself. If you freaked out too much and made too much noise, that nurse would come back in, inject you with those drugs and you would lose valuable hours that you needed to get away.

Slowly, and with a great deal of effort, you wiggled the wrist of your dominant hand around in an attempt to get it out of the restraint. Though the straps were made of fabric, it was a stiffer material, and after a fair amount of wiggling, the skin around your wrist was raw and bloody as you tried to loosen it while making your hand as small as possible.

Somehow, after hours of pulling as hard as you could, you finally freed your hand, gasping out a sigh of relief as you took a moment to rest. Luckily, no one had come to check on you yet, but it would be impossible to hide the fact that your hand was no longer tied down if they came too close. At least the remaining restraints were easier to get off, but now you were faced with your next problem: getting out of the room.

It was getting close to evening, around the time when someone would come in to feed you. Whoever came in always came with the sedatives, but you had noticed that most of the staff had been growing somewhat lax during your time here, and you would use that to your advantage.

When the next nurse came in, you were back in your usual spot on the bed, having arranged the sheets in a way so she couldn't see that you weren't tied down. She was a younger, quieter woman who avoided looking at you if she could. And as expected, a needle full of sedatives were on the tray she brought in with your meal.

When she set the tray down, you told her “someone slipped something under the door earlier.”

“What?”

You motioned with your head.

“Earlier, somebody slipped something under the door. I'm not sure what it was, but it looked like paper?”

“I don't see anything.”

“I think it went flying when you opened the door,” you explained.

She sighed, turning away from you to look at the area around the door. When she began to walk forward, you jumped off the bed as quietly as you could and reached for the needle.

“I still don't see anythi-”

Your hand covered her mouth as you stuck the needle into her neck, pushing its contents into her. She struggled briefly and went as far as to bite your hand, but within moments she was out, falling out of your grasp and onto the floor.

You felt terrible as you dragged the nurse across the floor and hid her behind the bed. There was no way you had the strength to lift her up and place her in the bed; you hadn't moved for weeks now and your muscles felt strained just from dragging her. Her neck was bleeding a bit, and you sincerely hoped you had just knocked her out and hadn't managed to do anything that would damage her permanently. If only it had been the nurse who had slapped you that you had come across, then at least you wouldn't have felt as bad.

You felt even worse when you forced yourself to remove her clothing. She was a bit wider than you were and her clothes didn't fit all that well, but it would hopefully work as a disguise so you could get out of the building. At least the long-sleeved sweater she had been wearing would cover the wound around your wrist. In an effort to give her some sort of apology, you placed a blanket over her.

“Everything all right in there?” a voice from outside suddenly called.

…. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You'd forgotten about the officer outside the room.

“Yeah, everything's fine,” you answered, trying to imitate the nurse's voice as best you could.

“Okay,” was the answer. You didn't think that you sounded much like her, but evidently it was good enough.

“Do you mind waiting in there for a little bit?” the officer asked through the door, “I need to use the restroom.”

“Y-yeah, go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

At least there was a little bit of luck on your side, it seemed. You couldn't believe that you'd managed to forget that there was someone on the outside watching over you, but that problem seemed to have taken care of itself. Best not to try and rely on getting so lucky every time, though.

After a few moments, you peeked your head outside the door, and when you found the coast to be clear, you began to hurry down the hallway.

There weren't many people in the halls, and the ones that were there didn't seem to notice you in your slightly over-sized clothes and shoes. Still, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could, not willing to risk someone recognizing you again. A staff-only stairway caught your attention, and you pushed on the heavy door and entered the dimly-lit stairwell.

You traveled down several flights of stairs to get to the ground floor. It would probably be a bad idea to try to leave through the front entrance. Finding some kind of side or back door would be best; something like that shouldn't be too hard to find.

A directory caught your attention, and you noted the arrow that pointed the way to a loading bay. It wouldn't be an area that would be open to visitors or regular patients, but there was the chance that hospital workers could be in there. But you didn't know how much time you had left before that nurse was discovered and you were found to be missing, and you didn't want to waste time wandering the halls trying to find an exit. Right now you needed to hope you would just be lucky.

Your luck held as you made it to the loading bay, as the others roaming the hospital halls were too absorbed in their own tasks to pay attention to you. And to your delight, no one was in the loading area either. This was perfect. Just a few more steps and you'd be free. You stumbled a bit down the steps of the platform before you decided to cast off the ill-fitting shoes. It was dumb to run around a city barefoot, but hopefully you could find a change of clothes somewhere and get rid of the whole nurse getup completely.

The cement was cold against your feet as you ran across it. You'd be out of here and then you could focus on getting out of this goddamned city.

As you came up to a pillar, a figure jumped out in front of you. You were too slow to react, and you ran right into it.

“Found you~”

It was a voice that you knew well, and you found that you recognized the shirt that your face was currently pressed up against. Not a lot of men wore purple pastel.

Shalnark was beaming down at you as he wrapped his arms around your back and kept you pressed against him.

“I missed you so much!” he continued, “Really, words can't describe how miserable I was without you around.”

“L-let me go!” you cried, trying to get out of his grasp. He only pulled you in closer.

“But we just found each other again. How could I let you go after we've been apart for so long?” Shalnark said.

You continued to struggle, trying to slip out of his arms that held you in whatever way you could. Shalnark seemed content to watch you writhe in his grasp, but he seemed to tire of it as he let out a quiet sigh and released you. You immediately pushed off from him and ran back to the stairs.

“Who's going to help you in there?”

You had only reached the foot of the stairs when he asked that, and you stopped in your tracks. He had a point. Everyone hated you, to put it lightly. It was unlikely that anyone would come to help you even if you begged them to. Turning back to Shalnark, you found him holding his phone out. He had pulled something up on the screen but it was too far away for you to read.

“Don't you want to know what's going on?” he asked, “come back over and you can find out.”

You shook your head.

“Oh? I thought you would have had questions. You sure you don't want to know?”

“I do,” you admitted, “but I also don't want to be anywhere near you. You'll make me black out again.”

“I won't do that,” he said, “there'd be no point in doing that right now. I promise, I won't do anything. Just come back to me.”

Your hand gripped the railing of the stairs and you looked back to the hospital's back entrance. Every fiber of your being wanted to run back inside, even if you would just be restrained and knocked out again.

“C'mon,” Shalnark tried again, “I'm literally holding all of the answers. All you need to do is walk back over.”

This was some kind of trick. It had to be. Shalnark wasn't forthcoming in anything and his promises meant nothing. All this was some sort of way to entrap you.

But if that was the case, then you were trapped anyway. You had no chance of being able to outrun or outsmart him. Once he caught sight of you, you were caught even before he had held you in his arms. He was letting you move around for now. If you made another break for the door, you'd be knocked out again.

Your hand released itself from the railing, and you slowly walked back to him, every step hesitant as you waited for him to pull something.

For once, Shalnark stayed true to his word as he didn't move when you got closer. He even tossed the phone over to you when you got close enough. You caught it with shaking hands, looking back up at him while he held his hands up in mock surrender.

“See? Nothing bad. I just want you to read it.”

There was no way that was all he wanted, and though it was a stupid idea to take your eyes off of him, with how insistent he was being on this you complied with his demands and looking at the article he had pulled up on his phone.

You had guessed at what he had made you do. In your time stuck in that room, running through in your head the ways that people had treated you, how they had reacted to just seeing you, and you knew that he had made you do something horrific.

But it was still hard to read those words that proclaimed you to be a murderer.

Your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, a woman you'd never met named Regina, had been found outside of his car, beaten to death. That same night, the house where Regina's family lived had been set on fire, her mother, father and siblings having all been trapped upstairs and succumbing to the smoke and flames. DNA evidence at both crime scenes pointed to you.

There was a photo, too. Grainy and probably taken from a surveillance camera, but the details were clear enough: you, walking outside, stone-faced and covered in blood.

“Shalnark,” you said slowly, “what did you do?”

“Me? I didn't do anything,” he said, laughing, “it's pretty clear that you're the one who killed your ex and his girlfriend in a jealous rage.”

“No,” you protested, “I-I didn't. It was you. You controlled me. Made me do it.”

“Yeah,” Shalnark admitted. He stepped towards you to take the phone back, adding “but how are you going to prove something like that in court?”

“.... Why?”

The answer to that question was obvious, but you couldn't think of anything else to say.

“Because of that thing you said: that you'd expose me to the world or something. After all we've been through, it made me really sad that you still feel like that,” he explained, “I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere with you. So I decided that some drastic measures were in order.

“You've been really desperate to get away from me, but I wondered: would you still be like that if you knew there was no chance of going back to the way things were?”

“.... What are you saying?” you asked.

“I'll let you choose,” Shalnark answered, “if you really don't want to be with me, I'll let you go. But with all of the evidence there is against you, you'll probably be looking at a life sentence in prison.”

He hummed, hand on his chin as he thought to himself.

“I don't see you doing too well in a prison, personally. And with how bad your crimes were, you'd be sent to the worst one they can find.”

“A-and if I go back with you?” you asked after a moment.

“Then we'll go back to normal!” he said cheerfully, “you'll keep living with me and loving me, and I'll keep you safe. Doesn't that sound nicer than being locked up in some prison?”

“I.....” you began, trailing off. Shalnark waited patiently for you to continue.

“I-I could run away. Go to Meteor City....?”

The sentence came out more like a question.

“You could,” said Shalnark, “but Meteor City won't take you. In fact, if you were to step one foot inside you'd be dead in an instant.”

All of this was becoming too much, and you began to hyperventilate at the thought of what he had made you do to cut off an escape to Meteor City.

“Oh, don't worry. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the other murders; you just stabbed a guy,” Shalnark explained, “but Meteor City doesn't like it when one of theirs is killed for no reason, so if they find you, they'll retaliate in kind. You're pretty lucky the police here kept your location under wraps; I can't imagine how many attempts on your life there would have been if they'd managed to find out.

“But more importantly, what's your decision? Am I taking you back with me or are you going to reject me one final time?”

Seconds turned into minutes as the two of you stood in in that loading bay, Shalnark waiting for your answer while your brain scrambled to figure out what to do. You couldn't go back with Shalnark. Not after all he had done and all you had tried to get away from him. But he was right that you wouldn't survive in a prison. Not that you would have very long to live if you did go to one, as someone from Meteor City would be fast to find and kill you for the man you murdered.

Oh god, what were your parents going through? To have your name be blasted on the headlines as a serial killer. How many friends had they lost? How were they handling the inevitable ostracization they were going through? How many people were trying to hurt them because they couldn't get to you? And did your parents believe you had done all those things? Did they hate you? Was it the same case for your friends and other family? Or would they be able to distance themselves enough that the court of public opinion wouldn't judge them? All of that didn't even go into what you would go through if you were brought to trial. Your entire character would be picked apart and you would go down in the records as a crazed ex-girlfriend who couldn't stand the thought of the guy she liked being with another woman. And that would last until Meteor City came for you.

A potentially longer life stuck with Shalnark, or one that would definitely be much shorter as you were tried for crimes you didn't commit?

It had started to rain as the two of you stood there, and the cold rainwater ran down the slanted entrance of the loading bay and past your bare feet, making you shiver.

Then you heard police sirens in the distance.

“I think they've found out that you escaped,” said Shalnark, “it's now or never.”

You stood still, staring at him dumbly.

He hummed to himself.

“I see,” he said. Then Shalnark turned, and began to walk away.

True panic hit you at the sight of him leaving you behind. Without Shalnark, you would be at the mercy of the police. You'd be at the mercy of a whole world that thought you were a murderer and wouldn't care if you died. Shalnark at least cared a bit, in his own selfish way that didn't regard your feelings in the slightest.

If you didn't go with Shalnark, you would die.

That thought forced your legs to move you forward, and you reached out to grasp the back of his shirt in a desperate bid to keep him from leaving.

He stopped, and for a moment, the two of you stayed there like that.

Shalnark spun around suddenly, grabbing your shoulders to pull you into a kiss.

It was hard to not resist, and after a few seconds, you pushed forward to make yourself kiss him back.

He was grinning ear to ear when he pulled away.

“I knew you'd make the right choice. I knew you couldn't hate me so much to choose death over me.”

He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as he told you “don't worry; I wouldn't have actually let you go. There's nothing in this world that could ever make me abandon you.”

You weren't sure if you should believe him or not.

“We'd better get out of here. This place'll be infested with cops pretty soon.”

You wordlessly accepted the hand he held out to you after he pulled away, and you let him lead you out into the rain and the street beyond. He immediately walked you to an awaiting taxi cab, ushering you into the back before he slid in behind you. The taxi driver didn't acknowledge when the two of you entered, and when you looked over to him, you saw a familiar-looking bat shaped needle sticking in his arm.

The car drove off with the two of you inside after Shalnark typed in a few commands on his phone, and he set it aside to focus on you.

“I didn't mention it earlier, but I actually really like that nurse look,” he said, leaning forward to pull down the sweater so he could get a better look at the nurse's dress you had stolen.

“Hmm. It's a little big on you, though,” he commented as he pulled at the fabric a bit to prove his point, “if I buy you one that fits, will you wear it for me?”

You nodded.

Shalnark, grinned, bringing you into another hug.

You wanted to push him away like you had done before, but things were different now. You had chosen to stay with him. Now you needed to accept his advances. Even though he had said that he would never abandon you, how much could you really trust him?

Shalnark speaking your name brought you out of your thoughts, and he whispered to you “if you try to escape again after this, I'll cut off your legs.”

You couldn't see his expression, but his voice was serious, and you jumped when he pulled away once more.

That smile was back on his face, and he cheerfully said “just kidding.”