#o0o thinks

[hummingbee-o0o]

I really love how the s2 opening lays out exactly how things will NOT go down, it's really brilliant.

Everything that happens in this intro is like a reverse foreshadowing, which plays so neatly into the theme of reversal going on in s2:

Stede and Izzy's relationship will not be antagonistic (Izzy will be teaching Stede how to be a pirate, and I cannot wait to watch them both be spectacularly bad at it yet succeed hilariously)

Izzy does not die (more than that, he chooses life, he comes as close to killing himself as he could but he ultimately chooses life, just like Stede did in s1 and Ed does in the following episode)

The reunion will not be easy (on the contrary, at first Stede thinks Ed is dead, and even without it we know that the reunion will be rocky and challenging for them both)

Ed absolutely DID NOT know Stede would find him (I love how this is signalled by Ed just artificially repeating the line, there's something wrong there, even Stede's subconscious knows there's a glitch)

Stede absolutely DOES KNOW they're not good, he knows he hurt Ed (but Stede is not afraid any more, so he wants to reunite with Ed and face the issues, he will not run away, and he's no longer scared of "ruining" Ed)

It highlights the theme of reversal and it also clearly shows us that, just like in season 1, the plot will be driven by these three characters this time as well, only now for completely opposite reasons.

Just...... a complete focking masterpiece, this was!

[emmbebee]

[jamieenthusiast]

(Totally unrelated question) ghost cookies for the spooki ghosts of the mansion? 🍪🍪🍪

shes very happy with her cookie :)

Previous | Next | Beginning

[lrdvyke]

an exploratory kiss,  testing the waters between them  ( need I even say it )

It is in the silence that Vyke regards Darian now. The small, flickering flames within the sconces up and down the corridors reflect off of the shine of the man's armor. The mask of his helm is down, but Vyke knows well the face beneath. He can imagine it clearly with its pensive moue, and he wants to reach out, to push the mask up in disregard of the cold countenance shown, in the want for a warmer, much more alive one.

With eyes alight underneath his own helm, it is a yearning that has held steady throughout their friendship. One never quite acted upon, even in its slow growth that forces his idle hands to tighten into fists on occasion. Were he any other man, perhaps it would be different ( were Darian any other man ... ). Perhaps he would not see his friend as someone to admire greatly, drawing in a question of does he wish to be like him, or does he simply want him around as a permanent fixture in his life?

Knowing Darian as he does, Vyke attempts to heed caution.

❛ D ... ❜ He calls softly to get his friend's attention. A shift, a brief close in the gap. His hand raises then, pinching the chin of the mask between metal fingers before lifting it up. ❛ There you are. ❜ A quiet laugh that leaves no room in mind for mocking. Instead, only a certain kind of affection befitting of Vyke. But it is not until he lifts his own helmet off his head that any caution he has left, now becomes forfeit in the sight of the other's eyes upon his own.

❛ Hold still— ❜ A warning whisper, his free hand curling around the juncture of Darian's neck as the pad of his thumb presses against his jawline. There is a hesitation. Vyke waits for the other to pull back, to state intentions different than his own, but it never comes. Mouth ajar, a small exhale, he leans in and presses his lips to Darian's own in a soft kiss. Lingering, tasting the warmth as if the man is made of molten gold itself, his grip tenses just enough to make itself known ( a shiver of small pleasure, it is just as expected and it torments him so at the revelation of it ).

But Vyke does not push it further than that. He leans back, a grin upon pallid features as he pinches the chin of the mask again, only to pull it back down to cover Darian's reaction.

@luredeep !

[meimeikyu]

everyone once in a while i see one of my moots post something plural/did/system related n i just feel like that spiderman pointing meme

[tinygryphon-58570]

I was trying to think of a cute comic I could do of my Arcane rep for Starfall, and honestly this is the only in-character situation that my brain kept feeding me, enjoy xD

Happy Arcane Appreciation Week! \o0o/

[echo-rambles]

yours to keep

words: 1,728 tags: bang chan x f!reader, established relationship, fluff, kissing, attempt at humor. mentions of marriage. vague adhd!reader. notes: this is filled with nothing but fluff. tooth rotting fluff almost. I was feeling so incredibly soft for chan and I just had to get this out of my system. also the movie playing in the bg is absolutely kiki's delivery service.

-o0o-

You’ve refreshed the same three social media apps at least four different times each, falling into an incredibly boring spiral of doom scrolling, before you remember that if you’re bored enough you always have a boyfriend you can bother. It’s one of your favorite activities actually. Because he’s such a good sport about it. 

Shifting closer to him on the couch, you perch your chin on his shoulder, pressing close. He immediately leans into your touch, making a small little noise at your proximity. It makes your heart melt a little. 

For a few moments you silently watch him work. Clicking about on his laptop, pulling up various recording and editing programs, adding in and taking out bits of audio. You wonder what the track sounds like, but Chan has his big headphones secured to his head, so all you can do right now is imagine. 

It’s not completely silent. There’s a Studio Ghibli movie playing in the background that neither of you are watching, volume low enough to be nothing but white noise because you kind of extremely hate when there’s long stretches of absolutely no noise. It’s this weird thing your brain does; where it sort of feels all fuzzy and prickly if things are quiet for too long. 

Gently, you push one side of his headphones away from the ear closest to you. “Baby.” 

Chan hums in acknowledgement, but his attention is still focused entirely on his laptop. 

You’d be more annoyed if you weren’t so used to it by now. It’s kind of his job to be attached to it any second of the day that he’s not either preparing to perform or actively performing. Besides, you’re both sitting together and quietly enjoying each other's company while doing your own things and it’s kind of perfect. Except the thing you were working on has steadily lost your attention and now you want to ask your boyfriend a very important question. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how busy are you?” That’s not the question. It’s one of many lead up questions to accurately gauge how invested Chan is in his current project and how easy it will be to distract him. 

Another hum, and you watch his cursor rifle around in several different lists and menus. “Maybe a 6.7? Even 6 if I can find the specific snare I’m looking for in the next few minutes.” 

Below a 7 is promising. “So you can totally pause what you’re doing and give me like, five minutes?” 

Chan clicks around some more, and you recognize a little bit of what he’s doing. Going through the process of saving his progress before shutting his laptop entirely. “Actually, I can give you ten minutes.”

“You’re so generous.” You absolutely take that as your cue to crawl into his lap, taking the place of his computer as he places it somewhere safe off to the side. 

“I think I’ve been staring at the screen too long, my eyes are starting to rebel.” He groans, tipping his head back and scrubbing his palms over his face. 

Of course you still have that very important question to ask him, but he looks so soft and touchable and you really can’t help yourself. Moving his hands away, you lean in, pressing kisses to both of his cheeks, under each eye. To the tip of his nose, and even kissing his dimple when you feel him smile under your mouth. Using your hands to tilt his face, you kiss each side of his jaw. You move back up, placing a kiss to the curve of his forehead. 

Finally, finally, you kiss his mouth. He’s still smiling, but he kisses back happily. 

“Feel better?” 

He nods, eyes still closed. “I think your kisses might be magic.”

“Oh, they absolutely are.” You kiss him again simply because you can. It’s the sort of kiss that makes your bones all liquid and warm. A kiss you can feel in the roots of your teeth and the hinges of your jaw. It makes your stomach flutter, filled to the brim with colorful wings. 

It’s the type of kiss that almost makes you forget the question you wanted to ask him. 

“I actually have a very important question for you.” You declare, placing your hands firmly on his shoulders to try and keep him at arm's length. Lest you be drawn back into that mouth of his. 

Blinking up at you, breathing heavily and gaze a little dizzy, Chan nods. He mirrors the gesture, anchoring his hands at your hips. “Lay it on me, boss.” 

Settling into his lap, you try to ignore how stupidly wrecked he looks. You want to dive back in so badly, but you must stay strong, soldier. 

“If, for some unknown reason, you had to leave me to be with someone else, who would you choose?” 

That, at least, seems to sober him. Instead of looking soft and kiss-drunk, he comes back to himself, the gears behind his eyes starting to turn and grind together as he processes your insane question. 

You like to ask him things like this from time to time. Completely unprompted but thought provoking questions, because they really do feel important. You like to know these things. Not in a paranoid jealous sort of way. It’s all genuine curiosity. You just like to know.

“What kind of question is that? I don’t know. I can’t say I’ve ever thought about leaving you, or being with anyone else.” 

“That is the sweetest sentiment and I need you to know I’m feeling very warm and mushy over it, but it’s also incredibly boring.” 

“Wow, ok. I don’t know! Who would you choose?” He tries to throw the question back at you, but you’re ready. Of course you are; why would you even ask the question without having an answer of your own? 

“Changbin.”

It makes Chan laugh. It knocks its way out of him, causing him to lean to the side just a little bit with the force of it. “No hesitation!”

“No hesitation needed. He’s Seo Changbin.” 

Chan is still laughing. Little giggles as he nods along to your declaration. His fingers press into your waist, slipping between the hem of your shirt and your sweatpants, skin seeking skin. 

He didn’t ask for an explanation, but you have one. Because of course you do. “He’s the type of guy who would probably introduce himself as my boyfriend. Like, he’s the famous one, but I’m not his girlfriend. He’s my boyfriend. Does that make sense?”

“I hate to agree, but it absolutely does.”

“Right! Unfortunately I’m stuck with you.” You ignore his breathy wow, drawn out as he tries his best to not laugh again. “Because you’re the only person who plays into my jokes in the exact way that I enjoy.” 

You make sure to punctuate your explanation with a pout and shrug, truly playing into being overdramatic. Teasing him because it’s fun and easy and all he really does is smile so wide at you. The things you would do for that smile. 

He leans forward, close enough to place a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before he’s settling back into his seat. “Aw, I love you too.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m stupidly in love with you. It’s whatever.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Though,” You start, thoughtfully. “If I had to choose someone to get drunk married to in Vegas, I’d 100% no questions asked, pick Lino.”

Chan leans forward once again, into your space. The tilt of his brow and the line of his mouth spell out genuine concern, and it makes your insides twist up for the briefest of seconds. “Wait, what? Not me? But babe, I want to drunk marry you in Vegas so bad.” 

Ok, that makes you laugh. The weird little guilty knot immediately dissolves at his incredulous tone. “Absolutely not! We’re never getting drunk married in Vegas by some celebrity impersonator. Are you crazy?”

Well now he’s frowning. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and never let him go. Tuck him away safely in a spot behind your ribs, where no one can get to him and nothing can hurt him.

You’re smaller than him, not only because you’re shorter by a good few inches, but also in sheer mass and bulk. But you’d try your best. It’s probably a little morbid, and he’d absolutely give you a look if you ever mentioned it out loud. But it’s true nonetheless. 

You’d crack yourself open and rearrange everything if it meant you could fit him perfectly in the space next to your heart. 

Cradling his face in your hands, you make sure that he’s listening, tipping your head to meet his eyes and smoothing your thumb along the swell of his bottom lip. “We’d get sober married, on a beach or something, by one of our very good friends that got their license online!” 

Without missing a beat, Chan is nodding. “Seungmin.” 

“No question. He’d show up with a print out certificate from Ordained.com that he managed to get the night before.”

Chan’s eyes disappear as he laughs, and you press both of your thumbs into the apples of his cheeks as his smile transforms his face. There’s always something about the way Chan smiles that is contagious. Without fail you can’t help but smile too, scrunching up your nose and feeling your heart overflow with love. 

The things you would do for that smile. 

“Hold on. Did you just propose to me?” Chan asks, once his laughter has trickled off into intermittent giggling. You’re still holding his face, and his fingers have fully migrated up under your top to spread out along our back. 

You scoff, shaking your head. “No. We’re too young and you’re too busy for us to be married. Hell no. If anything I pre-proposed to you.”

“Aw, well I accept.”

“Good. We’d have a problem if you didn’t.” 

It’s his turn to pull you into a kiss. Both of your smiles pressing against each other. 

The credits of the movie neither of you were watching have started rolling, the familiar music washing over the both of you, and you could really spend the rest of the night here with him. The rest of the weekend. Maybe even the rest of your lives, some day.

[zelphin124]

Slivering Ash - Teaser

POLL AT THE BOTTOM! Late bday gift for roxanne (: Random idea... though I could go a long way with this- FANON

~o0o~ Ash wiped Shattered's goop off his shoulder. He adjusted the clothes across his wrists before stepping further into the dark cave.

What did Cross mean by his warning? He couldn't decide if it was an insult or a warning. "Beware of the one you're attached to." Ash scoffed as he recalled the phrase. He wasn't attached to anyone. How could he be? Shattered would kill them if he dared to get along with anyone. Moreover, Shattered would feed on his suffering. If there was one thing Ash aimed for, it was to serve Shattered suffering food, not be the food.

Water droplets dripped into the small puddles with a loud plop. The echoes bounced off the stone-cold walls into the darkness. There were no other sounds other than the splashes and Ash stepping forward. He could barely make out the dripstones that hung from the low ceiling and blocked his path.

He made his way through.

And the darkness consumed him.

Ash didn't mind the darkness after his time with Shattered. It felt normal... but different.

It was a different type of darkness. One that didn't hold a vessel, one that didn't consume negative feelings... or positive ones.

It just... was.

And Ash loved it.

It was the first time in a while that he felt so neutral and able to think clearly. He paused his walking, ceasing the echo in the caves. He stood in the darkness silently, enjoying it while he could.

But he had a job to do.

According to Cross, this was the fastest way to sneak into Nightmare's castle. Shattered ordered to go to the entrance and no further. The risk of being caught if Ash ventured beyond the gate was high, and Shattered was not one to risk such a dire mission.

The inky atmosphere around Ash started to shift. As if something moved within its shadows. Ash instinctively laid a hand on his gun. He observed the night like a hawk watched its prey.

But he didn't observe closely enough.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

Ash snapped his head around, pointing his gun where the sound came from. His heart pounded and he started to sweat. That voice...

The silhouette of the figure slowly came into view. They stood proud, with their hands behind their back.

Thump... thump...

His cloak was black and it covered his neck in a high turtle neck.

Thump. Thump.

The rest of his clothes were a glossy grey with various chains hung across them.

Thump Thump Thump.

A large double blade hung from his side.

ThumpThumpThumpThump.

One more step forward, and his face was clear as day.

Ash's heart stopped. His eyes widened as he gazed upon the person, he trusted the most. The one he was attached to.

"S... Silver?"

"Slash."

Ash couldn't find his words. "I-It's Ash now..."

"And it's no longer Silver for me..." his brother smiled softly as three familiar silhouettes appeared behind him.

"It's Sliver."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hehehe~ Slash/Ash and Silver/Sliver belong to @itsxroxannex (sorry for the ping)

[cha-melodius]

I had two days off at the beginning of this week and I spent the whole time writing instead of getting ahead on work. My poor choices are your bounty! Here's a bit from a new chapter of the YGM AU (which grew another planned chapter this morning, thanks @cricketnationrise and @celeritas2997 😘). Also thanks to @orchidscript and @three-drink-amy for the tags this week!

Worse, though, is when Henry glances through the window and sees Alex standing behind the front counter, smiling at a customer. He’s just too beautiful, and despite what he’d said at the party, Henry can’t help himself. He lingers a few minutes too long, long enough for Alex to finish his transaction and look directly at him. His eyes go wide and then impossibly narrow, and before Henry can make his feet move, Alex is bursting through the front door onto the street. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Alex demands, his hands propped on his hips, which makes his shirt stretch across his chest in a supremely distracting way. “I though it made it clear you weren’t welcome here.” Henry knows, only too well, and though Alex has every reason to be angry with him, he can’t help but feel his own hackles rising. Alex never even let him try to explain the other night, never considered that Henry might be a little more complex than the villain he’s cast him as in his head. “I happen to be walking on the bloody pavement, Alex,” he snaps. “What is it you Americans always say? ‘It’s a free country’?” “It looks to me like you’re loitering outside my shop,” Alex sneers. “Come to steal more ideas from me? I read that article in the Times. ‘Unprecedented LGBTQ+ selection,’ huh? Can’t imagine where you got the recommendations for books to feature.” “That’s funny, because I seem to remember the books that I selected showing up in your front window after our visit. So who’s stealing ideas from whom, now?”

Tagging @clottedcreamfudge, @indomitable-love, @inexplicablymine, @dumbpeachjuice, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, @lilythesilly, @nontoxic-writes, @hummingbee-o0o, @kiwiana-writes, @leaves-of-laurelin, @liminalmemories21, @mirilyawrites, @nicijones, @sherryvalli, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @wolfpup026, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @14carrotghoul, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @myheartalivewrites, @daisymae-12

[midnight-lilac-blue-hues]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.

There are no horses that need saving in this fic ;P

(\ _ /)

( o0o)

Wolfwood × reader

Warning!!! NSFW below the cut

AFAB reader, smut, cowgirl position (yeehaw), ass smacking (just once), I live for country wolfwood, men moaning, creampie, slight overstimulation, lots of swearing.

Note: excited because this is my first trigun fic :] and I'm also back!! (I say about to take summer classes) but nevertheless, enjoy this holy meal ^^!!

"Hurry up there, cowboy," Wolfwood leaning back on the bed, elbows propping himself up to look at you.

"Hush," you hissed, "you know I get antsy right before we fuck." Pulling your shirt off, and stepping out of your shorts.

"I'd doubt that, cos' with the way you're speakin' yo-"

"I'd said hush," you covered his mouth with the palm of your hand. You quickly unbuckled his belt with your free hand, sitting on his lap and running your lips up and down his tawny neck.

You pressed yourself further into the priest, embracing the skin-to-skin contact while he runs his fingers into your hair. His hips ever so gently roll up into yours, his clothed cock pressed right over your clit causing you to mewl into his mouth. 

You unlatch your lips from Wolfwood's neck with a 'so good' drooling from your lips. You felt a rough hand run down your back, rubbing your ass in circles. "You'd think you can ride a bull? Or are you gonna be screaming my name so loud the whole inn can hear?"

"I can handle it," you gulped.

"Good," a harsh smack stung your ass, "giddy up, cowgirl." He said with a smirk.

You gave him a glare before guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance. "You know after that smack, I shouldn't give you a piece of me," grinding down on Wolfwood's tip just enough it wouldn't go in but would leave him begging.

"Come on, princess. How else are you gonna show me you can handle it?" His rough hands rest on your soft hips, "Sorry about that though, doll," his hand smoothed your hips.

You trailed the curves of your torso, finding Wolfwood's hands, and lacing your fingers together. Using his hands, you lowered yourself down onto his hard-on with a sigh. His quick gasp caused a shiver to run up your spine.

"Tight as ever, huh?"

"S-shut up," you squeezed his hands and shut your eyes.

"At least take me all the way down, then I'll think about it," Wolfwood gave you another cheeky smirk.

You humph, pulling up leaving the tip in, and sinking further down until your rear was sitting on Wolfwood's thick thighs.

You began riding Wolfwood, using his hands as leverage. You sighed, feeling his cock pressing the soft spot inside, over and over again. "Haa~ it feels good," you whispered, rubbing your clit on his pubic bone.

"Careful there, princess. You're twitchin' already," Wolfwood grunted underneath you.

"Focus on yourself, Wolfwood. I can feel your dick throbbing." You felt your face grow hotter and hotter.

Wolfwood hummed, "That so?" Digging his heels into the mattress, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as you came down. "Cos' I'm always throbbing whenever I see you. Especially when you try to act tough."

You choked on your own moan, squeezing Wolfwood's hand so hard, nail markings will definitely show up the next day. His pace was relentless, causing you to curl over him.

You cursed under your breath, feeling yourself get closer to your climax. And you could Wolfwood was also close, as his grunts and a few of his whines grew more audible.

He slipped his fingers out of yours, bringing them to your hips, pulling them down to grind on his own. Letting out a dissatisfied whine, you frowned at the man. "Fuck!" You squeaked out, feeling your cunt throbbing around his shaft, "what was that about?!"

"It wouldn't be fair to me if you got to set the pace, now would it?" Wolfwood leaned forward, guiding your movements like you were nothing but a fuck toy for him. 

This was really bad, you were so close to your climax. Your hips rutted into Wolfwood's waist as your moans spiked up and up.

"Fuck yeah baby, moan for me, just like that~" he purred. He began kissing your neck, his stubble brushed against your collarbone forcing a loud moan to spill from your lips. "Oh fuck yeah!" He growled into your neck. Suddenly, you felt warmth fill your pussy, quickly sending you over your peak.

Wolfwood's grip on you became loose, allowing you to pin him back down onto the mattress. You continue to ride out your orgasm on his cock, enjoying how your pussy seems to weep around him. Wolfwood's breath quickly became whines and whimpers.

"Oh my God, doll! W-wait, augh- slow down," he begged, throwing his head back. 

"Damn Nico, I thought you were going to have me scream so loud- the entire inn would hear us," you smirked as your hips found a new desire to continue moving. You chuckled, "Keep being a good boy, and I'll think about slowing down."

[hummingbee-o0o]

okay okay okay hold my heart please!

the note Izzy gets from the crew?

that's his Fine Thing.

he keeps it in his sleeve, just like Ed kept the red silk in his pocket.

AND, because season 2 is the season of reversal and things going right, this time the Fine Thing does not go flying off on the night wind.

Izzy's Fine Thing is a family <3

this show is amazing, I'm gonna go lie down now.

[sajirah]

The Prison Chapter One

The Prison

In honor of me being newly unemployed and House of Flame and Shadow dropping in less than 2 weeks I wrote a thing. You can read it here or on AO3. Enjoy.

-o0o-

Feyre was a murderer.

That was why she was here after all, staring out at the island that was soon to be her prison. She probably deserved it. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t absolutely petrified to be here.

“Any advice?” She asked the marine unlocking her shackles.

He glanced up at her, considering, and then said, “Pretty thing like you? Find the meanest, nastiest fucker on that island and convince him to protect you.”

Feyre didn’t need the soldier to explain how exactly she was expected to ‘convince’ said man. She’d already had plenty of nightmares of exactly that scenario after her sentencing. The worst part was his advice was probably one of her better options.

“Thanks,” she replied quietly. I think.

He didn’t reply, only pulled off her shackles and then took a strong hold of her arm. She didn’t know why he bothered. It’s not like she could hijack this boat and sail it back home all by herself. She didn’t even know how to drive a car, let alone a boat. She supposed she’d never learn now.

The captain stepped in front of her then, weary and clearly wishing he was anywhere else.

The feeling is mutual pal.

“Feyre Archeron, you have been sentenced to life on The Prison. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

The woman in question stared at him blankly. What was even the point? He was going to throw her onto an island of rapists and murderers no matter what she said. She’d already screamed and cried and swore at her trial. What more could she possibly say?

The captain had the gall to look annoyed. As if she were the one ruining his day.

“Right,” He turned to the marine holding her arm. “Toss her and let’s leave this fucking place.”

Toss her?! “Wait, what?!-” But it was already too late and before she could react the marine was hoisting her up and shoving her overboard.

Icy seawater hit her like a ton of bricks. The shock froze her limbs for precious seconds as her mind tried to reorientate itself. Kick! She thought frantically. After a few terrifying moments her body obeyed.

Salt stung her eyes as she broke the surface and sucked in oxygen but she still managed to see the blurry shape of the boat as it passed her and glided off towards the horizon.

“Fuck you!” She shouted after it. It was petty, but who was going to care about her behavior now? Her dead mother? Her absent father? Her sisters she hadn’t seen since she’d been hauled off by the police?

The island loomed large a quarter mile behind her. She supposed it didn’t matter to the courts if their prisoners actually made it onto the island. Just that they’d been dumped within its vicinity so there was no hope of them ever escaping.

How far even was the mainland from here? Thirty miles? Forty? Fifty? It had taken at least a few hours to get here. They’d left at 9 am sharp and if the sun was anything to go by it was barely noon. Not that any of this mattered. She was never going home.

No one escaped The Prison.

For a few indulgent moments Feyre considered letting herself drown. As terrible as it seemed, it certainly had its appeal compared to eking out a miserable existence on an island full of dangerous criminals. After all, they didn’t send just anyone to The Prison. Only the worst of the worst for this place. Murderers. Serial killers. Violent rapists. Enemies of the rich and powerful.

It was dizzying to think she was considered one of them now.

She let the moment of self pity linger and then let it go. Right. She’d never been a quitter. She wasn’t about to start now.

Resigned, she pointed herself towards the island and started swimming.

-o0o-

Feyre arrived upon her new home’s doorstep looking, for all intents and purposes, like a drowned cat.

It had taken her at least an hour to swim to shore, fighting six foot waves and avoiding what she desperately hoped were not sharks. She couldn’t be sure but she swore something had bumped up against her in the water at some point and hadn’t she read somewhere that sharks bumped into their prey before they circled around to take a bite out of them?

Shivering, she glanced down the beach, hoping against hope none of her fellow prisoners had seen her, but almost immediately she spied two men melting out of the tree line.

Well fuck.

Adrenaline flooded her veins and she scrambled to her feet as one of the men crept closer, holding his hands up as if she were a spooked horse. He was older, hair grayed and skin weathered by the sun. Clothes barely more than rags. Was this what awaited her if she managed to survive as long as him? Rotted teeth and preying upon new arrivals like scavengers?

“Easy there doll. We’re not gonna hurt ya…”

Either he thought she was a moron or he was one himself because Feyre knew exactly what that man had planned for her and quite a lot of hurt was involved.

“Bet you’re real hungry after that swim,” the other man said. He was younger than his companion, but in many ways he looked worse off. Starved and mean looking. “We’ve got some food over at our camp. We’ll share it…”

Even if she were desperate enough to take him up on his offer, his hollow cheekbones and bony wrists led her to believe that statement was a load of bullshit.

She waited, muscles coiled and tense as the men drew ever closer. Suddenly the skinny one reached out, attempting to make a grab for her but Feyre was ready for him. She kicked the sand and it arced up and sprayed straight into his eyes. He howled, clutching at his face, and stumbled forward but she was already bolting out of reach and into the forest.

“Wait, come back!” The older man shouted.

“I can’t see!” The other roared. “I’ll fucking kill her!”

But Feyre was already putting as much distance between her and her would-be captors as possible, not knowing which direction she was going except that it was ‘anywhere but here’. She heard the older man crashing in the underbrush just behind her, shouting at her like she were an unruly dog set loose.

She didn’t even realize his shouts had stopped until she was halfway up the hill. She dared a glance over her shoulder and saw nothing but trees and ferns.

Good.

She kept climbing.

-o0o-

It’s getting dark.

That was all Feyre could think as she wandered the woods in search of food and shelter. So far she’d found a tiny stream of questionable quality and a crooked stick. She supposed she could poke someone’s eye out with it if she was very lucky and her attacker were very still but she wasn’t holding out much hope in that department. Unfortunately the other items on her survival list had yet to be discovered.

Though with the way the sun was going down she was starting to worry. The temperature was dropping rapidly and though her clothes had long since dried they weren’t exactly made to keep one warm in near freezing weather. When she’d first realized they intended to send her off to her final destination in only her prison uniform she’d nearly fought them.

“You can’t be serious!” She’d raged at the officers escorting her onto the boat. “How am I supposed to survive without a coat? A knife? A lighter?”

The officers had been silent but their message was loud and clear: You don’t.

They expected her to die out here. They expected them all to die out here. Well clearly they hadn’t met Feyre. If there was one thing she was good at it was survival. And spite.

Especially that last one.

Still, if she didn’t find shelter soon even sheer undiluted spite was going to have trouble keeping her warm.

It took another hour before she found what she was looking for.

In the dying light, she spotted a little burrow under a rocky outcrop. It would be a tight squeeze, but it was better than her current options which were…nothing. It wasn’t exactly the Four Seasons, but it would mostly protect her from the elements and, more importantly, keep her out of sight. The last thing she needed was another of her fellow prisoners happening upon her while she slept.

As she wormed her way into the muddy crevice, she wistfully reminisced upon her bed back home.

To think, just a year ago she had been sitting in an upscale dining hall, celebrating her sister’s marriage. If someone had told her then what her future held she never would’ve believed them.

And still, she couldn’t fully regret the actions that had led her here.

Perhaps if she hadn’t seen the bruises littering Nesta’s arms things would’ve been different, but she had. And once she had seen them she couldn’t unsee them, no matter how many long sleeved dresses and cardigans her sister wore afterwards. Feyre still had the image of purple fingerprints dotting her sister’s wrist branded into the backs of her eyelids. Nesta never said a word about them. No matter how many times Feyre and Elain begged her to. She had been the very picture of the quiet, demure wife.

And Feyre had hated it.

Perhaps it would’ve gone on indefinitely like that, Nesta’s stoic silence and her sisters’ outspoken concern, but then it had happened.

It had been over something innocuous, his breakfast not being done on time, his coffee being too hot, or his newspaper not being laid out on the table the way he liked. Whatever it was, all Feyre remembered was the way her sister had reacted to her husband’s ire, braced and waiting for a blow. She’d seen it in her eyes. The hatred. The fear. The self loathing of having her sisters here to witness her humiliation. And then he’d grabbed her by the chin, fingers pressed deep enough to leave marks and Feyre had seen red.

Perhaps she truly deserved to be here for what had happened next. For the sheer satisfaction she had felt as she’d watched him bleed out around the butter knife in his eye socket. All she had known then was that this man would never touch her sister again.

She had never lost a moment’s sleep after doing what she did. When she had closed her eyes in her cell after her arrest the only thing she had regretted was the looks of horror and disbelief on her sisters’ faces. She hated that her final memories of her family were those.

But she still couldn’t regret it. No amount of wealth was worth broken bones. Nesta may have been willing to live in gilded luxury for the price of her battered body, but that wasn’t a trade Feyre agreed with. Better her sister live a rich widow who hated her. Better she was thrown to the rapists and murderers.

And I’d do it again. Every time. Feyre thought as she curled into the mud and let her exhaustion lull her to sleep.

Elsewhere, in the gathering dark, something stirred. The other prisoners retreated to the shoreline. They knew better than to enter the forest at night.

There you are. A voice whispered into Feyre’s dreams. I’ve been waiting for you.

[sam-oberg]

I’ve seen the Wilson werewolf au around and I thought what if maxwolf O0O

it’s just monster max but more doggy lol, people are free to play with this idea cos I don’t think I’mma draw more than this

[thefrenchydude]

Murderous Lust - Chapter 3 (part 1)

(Had to divide it, too much work :''') sorry, the other part will come out this week) (AND I didn't had the time to correct it neither ;-; sorry, I will do it soon.) (AND I will also complete some part of this chapter soon)

As they continued their journey deeper into the mountains, Reader's unease grew. The city of Auroria was gradually fading from view, and Reader couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. His gaze remained fixed on the distant city, almost as if he feared it would vanish in the blink of an eye.

Lex, ever perceptive to Reader's emotions, noticed the growing distress in his beloved's eyes. He tightened his embrace around his love, drawing him closer, as if to shield him from the mounting anxiety. With a tenderness that only deep love could inspire, Lex caressed Reader's arm in an effort to bring warmth and comfort in the chill of the mountain air.

Reader sighed softly, leaning into Lex's touch and finding solace in his embrace.

— I just can't shake this feeling, Lex. Reader admitted, his voice tinged with worry. Leaving the city behind like this, it's unsettling.

Lex pressed a gentle kiss to Reader's temple, his concern evident in his eyes.

— I understand, my love, he whispered reassuringly. But remember, I will stay by your side at every moment. Nothing can happens to you.

Reader slowly calmed down.

The winding mountain road led Reader and Lex higher into the magnificent mountains, where the air grew crisper, and the world seemed to be painted in hues of green and gold.

All around them the plains stretched as far as the eye could see. Reader had never traveled too far from the city. In fact, he'd never been out before. Too scared? No, just not suicidal. If the city was safe enough, the surrounding area was much less so. Reader had heard many stories of cargoes being attacked by demons. There were always few survivors, and the rest were often used as meals by demonic entities. And the kings did nothing about it. They had sworn to protect the city, not what layed around it. So the city had to adapt, trying to produce everything itself: fields for food, factories… Outside deliveries were rare and always very rough.

Reader was already thinking about how he could bring this problem to the kings, imagining that he could talk to them, which is no guarantee. Perhaps they invited him just to be polite, so Lex wouldn't end up alone.

The gaze of the two monkeys came back to him.

Lex tightened his embrace. Reader relaxed.

o0o

They crossed the water curtain and were led to the reception halls, where they knelt before their majesties Sun Wukong and Macaque. Immediately, Wukong raised his voice and ordered them to stand up.

Without waiting, he announced the start of their audience. Well, Lex's, since Wukong asked Reader to wait outside the courtroom. His voice had become softer as he spoke to Reader.

Lex gave Reader a reassuring look and Reader took a step back, worried at the thought of having to leave his side. Eventually, he left the room.

The doors closed, leaving Reader alone outside.

o0o

Wukong was struggling to contain his impatience.

It was just them now.

Him, Macaque and the homewrecker who'd stolen their peaches.

They wanted to break his neck, break every bone in his body for daring to touch what belonged to them.

But Macaque was right, they should try to approach the peaches slowly. Just as they had done in his other life. Killing Lex and stealing Reader would provoke many years of hatred and conflict. Especially since they were married. Not for long, Wukong thought, clearly annoyed by what the worm was telling him. He was discussing the future of the lower town, as if he cared. They'd already destroyed this village, they wouldn't mind doing it again. It would have saved them from having to go and save their miserable lives when the demons entered the city.

— Your Majesty? asked Lex, uncomfortable with the king's gaze, which grew darker and darker as he spoke. Is there something bothering you?

Wukong hated the sound of his voice. Oh, how he wanted to take his staff and bash that worm over the head to make his brain burst.

It took all his patience and strength to answer a simple "no" and not to jump at him.

Macaque, who was clearly more capable of restraint, remained silent as a grave. He watched Lex, wondering "why did Reader choose him?".

o0o

Not wanting to give in to the anxiety that was killing him, Reader decided to wander the corridors of the palace cave. But walking didn't help him to calm down, in fact quite the opposite. That's when he saw an opening to the outside. The same one they'd entered through before.

Reader decided to take a deep breath of fresh air and went to the gardens.

The gardens were magnificent. Peach trees rested in the vast, peaceful grounds. Reader wanted to taste the fruit, but didn't think it wise and refrained.

Then a chirping sound caught his eye: little monkeys were stirring, watching the newcomer from the branches. Little rhesus monkeys, Reader thought, remembering what he'd read about this mountain.

He watched them for a moment. The sight of being so cute soothed him. For a moment, he felt at peace - not completely, he couldn't forget that his husband was alone and so was he.

That was before Macaque arrived and greeted the reader.

Taken by surprise, Reader jumped up and turned a panicked gaze on Macaque, who immediately tried to reassure him. Assuring him that he hadn't trespassed and that he doesn't meant any harm. 

Reader really couldn't hear him coming, and it bothered him a lot. He didn't like being surprised.

Macaque sat down beside Reader. He remembered the first meeting with Peaches' first reincarnation.

Macaque talked to Reader. At first, Reader was very uncomfortable. But somehow, as the conversation progressed, he managed to relax.

The two of them ended up speaking frankly to each other, Reader even taking the liberty of making a few jokes which always drew a sincere laugh from Macaque.

At one point, Macaque paused, his gaze fixed on Reader's right hand. Macaque gently grabbed it and pulled it closer. There was a mark on it.

— Ha, it's a birthmark. 

— It's shaped like a bite mark, marveled Macaque.

Macaque was on the verge of tears. It reminded him of the first time they met...

After that, the two continued chatting.

o0o

Wukong came slowly towards them. He'd learned from his mistakes - for once - this time, he wouldn't be landing right in front of Reader. Last time that had frightened him. No, this time he'd settle for a less remarkable entrance, walking right up to him.

Reader tensed, but didn't panic.

He'd simply asked where Lex was, and Wukong replied that he'd sent him to write down all his ideas and plans for the city.

They talked for a long time, and by the time they'd finished, it was dark.

Before going to dinner, the two kings asked Reader if he wanted to visit the palace.

He wanted to decline. Politely. Claiming he had to get back to his husband's side. But it would have been impolite to refuse, and it would surely have affected their relationship with Lex.

Perceiving his hesitation, the kings insisted, assuring him it wouldn't last too long.

And so Reader agreed.

They went from room to room. There were so many, Reader suddenly felt as if he was in a labyrinth.

As they walked, the three of them were having a wonderful time. The kings were so friendly with Reader that he even forgot what they were : Powerful demons king.

They ended their visit in one of the palace's largest rooms.

— The vault?!? exclaimed Reader.

Mountains of wealth stretched far beyond view.

Wukong puffed up his chest, a flamboyant, charming smile on his lips. He knew this room would amaze him. Who wouldn't be fascinated by so much wealth?

— Several thousand years of treasures and relics have been amassed here, Macaque explained, caught by Reader's look of wonder.

Wukong moved closer to Reader and put his hand on his shoulder.

In reality, Wukong was burning with the desire to simply grab him, put him in the pillows nest, cover him with kisses, mark him with his burning bites, hold him against him, make him his own.

— Your Majesty? Reader asked, seeing Wukong blushing.

Wukong cleared his throat.

He had to stick to the plan. To make Reader fall in love with him and Macaque.

The visit finished, they walked to the diner room.

— If it's not inappropriate, may I know a little more about the one you loved? Reader asked, feeling quite at ease.

Wukong still remembered the sound of crushed bones as the demon devoured Reader's remains. A few seconds, just a few seconds, and they'd lost everything. It would never happen again.

Macaque told an idyllic version of their life with Reader, omitting the kidnapping, the fights and her horrible death.

The meal went by without Lex, who must still have been busy.

Then he was shown to his room, a single bed, where he would sleep alone tonight.

Reader slept extremely badly, he was used to Lex's arms holding him close.

At dawn, the sun awoke Reader.

A monkey guard came to inform him that Lex was leaving for the city. An emergency. So urgent that Lex hadn't even had time to notify Reader of his departure. Lex would return as soon as the emergency was resolved.

Reader felt very worried and alone. What could this emergency be? Had Lex arrived in town safely?

Someone came to inform him about breakfast.

(This chapter, story and au, is inspired by the Twice as bad au from @semisolidmind) (I hope y'all liked it, sorry for the delay again, have a great day/night)

[cominfromtheforest]

Somewhere, there's always...

The Disclaimer: I write Quirrel x Ghost. This will be that. That is your "warning", or whatever :)

━━━☆o0o☆━━━

Quirrel sits on the bench above City of Tears, leaning his chin against his hand as he stares out of the window. Endless rain drums against the glass and muddles the colours and the lights, but he finds it beautiful all the same.

It feels weirdly familiar here, but he isn't sure why. Like the view from the window, the memory is unclear too. He doesn't try and chase it, to save himself the headache. And besides, there are more pressing matters to think about, because he has gotten himself into trouble.

Well, sort of in trouble, anyway.

His thoughts keep wandering into his short friend, and not that there's anything wrong with thinking about your friends, but he knows this isn't just that. This makes him feel... different. He's well old enough to recognise butterflies when he has them. They have seen each other a handful of times since the Black Egg temple, but each time his friend keeps spending longer lingering around him. They don't talk, but he takes care of that plenty for the both of them. They just sit and listen, fill their notebook, or their map, or they tend to their nail.

And once he has nothing to say anymore either, his friend continues to sit, like they do not want to leave. When they had met at Queen's Station, the little knight had sat next to him for hours, quietly showing him their journal and the things recorded in it.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't wish to see them each time he'd settle somewhere. Because he wanted to see them, wanted their paths to cross, wanted to share their company. That was a problem, he knew. On the road getting too attached could be a death sentence. In places like Hallownest, getting attached now meant getting hurt later. But he... he had fucked up and it was a bit too late for backpedaling now.

There was a loud thunk from behind him, and Quirrel turned to look as the elevator decended down, carrying who else, but his short friend. Great. Fantastic. They patter across the floor to him and sit down, lookin up at him expectantly.

"Uhm... The capital lies before us my friend! What a sombre place it seems and one that holds the answers to many a mystery. I too have felt the pull of this place, though now I sit before it I find myself hesitant to descend. Is it fear I wonder, or something else that holds me back? Whatever it is, it can wait, for now." He humms, rambling on about the cavern and the husks of centries as they continue to stare at him.

"Isn't this a wonderful spot for a rest? I so love the sound of the rain upon glass," he says finally, turning his eyes back to the window. They stare for a moment longer, before they turn more forward and pull out their quill and journal.

Quirrel listens to the scratch of their writing, and he feels out of place. He can't figure out anything more to say, but it feels like it would be good for him to talk. There's just the two of them and the silence, the butterflies inside him and the tension in his jaw. It's unbearable. He straightens himself a bit, uncrosses his legs and then crosses them again, lowers one of his hands to rest on the bench instead of the backrest. He really feels like he should say something, but the words are stuck in his throath like dry flour and he hates it.

He doesn't notice the Knight looking at his hand as he starts tapping his nails against the metal of the bench. They glance up at him, at his weird posture and the worry on his face, and they don't say anything, because they can't. Instead he can suddenly feel them grasp his hand softly, weaving their fingers among his own. And without even looking up at him again, they continue writing.

Quirrel feels the heat rise to his face, and he knows that he has gone several shades darker. But he does not move his hand. He feels like he's 15 again and having a crush for the first time, and it's honestly a little embarassing. But it seems like his friend doesn't really mind the crisis he is having.

Their hand isn't really warm, but it isn't cold either, it almost feels like it's mimicking his temperature, instead of having its own. But their hand is soft, almost like it has a fuzz to it. It's... nice. They are nice and oh he's really in it now. He really does lo... like them.

"My friend..." he starts, but they shake their head a little, and so he shuts his mouth. Never mind then.

They write for a moment more, before they use their nail to cut a page off of their notebook. They fold it in half and then stuff their book and quill back into somewhere within their cloak. Not letting go of his hand they stand up on the bench, extending the folded note towards his free hand.

Once he has taken the note, they lift his hand towards their face, pressing a kiss on his knuckles. Quirrel is sure they are looking up at him while they do so, to catch his reaction, though it is hard to tell where they are looking from the darkness of their eyes. But he does know that his face is once more several shades darker than usually.

It feels as if they are happily smiling as they eventually release his hand and jump off the bench. They wave at him, and like that they are gone once again.

Quirrel sighs, resting his head on the back of the bench, staring up into the ceiling until he feels a bit more normal again. His face is still hot and there are still butterflies inside him, and it's still kind of embrassing to be so...

He opens their note.

I might combust from how much i like you, the note reads, signed by -Ghost, which Quirrel assumes to be their name. He stares at the words for a while, and then he grins, and then he laughs. He's relieved but it's ridiculous, they are both being ridiculous, like two teenagers who don't know how to go about the whole situation.

But somehow, somewhere, there's always love, he supposes.

[sherlockig]

I know i have already done this but its fun so i will do it again. I don't know why alexzcore is so darkacademia but yeah i guess i can vibe with this. its kind of alexzcore for real i think.

I was tagged by @obscurelocalstranger @blakbonnet and @poisonintopositivity Thank you for tagging me babes <3

Go on pinterest, type your name + "core" and post the first 9 results.

I tag: @provemethatimbeautiful @hummingbee-o0o @appleteeth @londonlock @lacefuneral @tabbystardust @kiwistede @funforahermit and @mxmollusca and everyone else who want to do it.