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itsvaleriesucka · 5 months

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the devil inside me

pairing: demon!joel miller x fem!reader

rating: explicit 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 5.5k

summary: you’ve been struggling on maintaining your medication regimen lately. have no fear, the devil is here to help and make you feel better.

warnings: indications of prescription medication and mental health, brief stabbing, light blood, slight tears, rough sex, unprotected p in v, f!masturbating, fingering (fem self/receiving), creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, breath play, spanking, hair pulling, age gap (50s/20s), dom joel (obvi), sub reader, no use of y/n, no outbreak

a/n: hi everyone! it has been a while since i’ve written stories. i had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy and if there are any mistakes or warnings i’ve missed out on, let me know so i can add/fix it. please do not read if you’re sensitive to any of these topics. you have been warned.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The only sound you were able to pay attention to. It muffles out the sound of your lovely therapist who’s trying to engage in a conversation with you. Your tunnel vision takes its toll, blocking out her volume and blocking the other objects that surround the quaint office.

You blankly stare at the large clock mounted against your therapist’s wall. Does it need to be ridiculously large like that? Your eyes followed the second hand, the way it raced along the numbers to approach the number twelve for each given minute to pass for when this session could be over.

“Pay attention.”

The voice in your head hissed. It causes you to jump away from your own thoughts. Your eyes readjusting themselves back into reality. You straighten your posture and lean yourself forward to reach for your glass of water that was offered to you before the start of your session. All of a sudden you were thirsty because you wanted to forget you were in a deep trance. You noticed your therapist had a frown upon her face. She removed her glasses and settled her notebook and pen upon the glass table that was in front, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Have you been listening to anything at all?”

You swallow the remaining liquid down your throat and place the glass right on top of a coaster that adorned nicely with the table.

“I was listening.” You murmured and leaned back against the soft cushion of the leather couch to try and relax your body. Lord knows how many individuals sit where you are sitting. You stared right at her disappointed gesture.

“Liar.” There’s that voice again.

Your therapist knew you were here for the main course of obvious reasons and she wanted to help. A decline in your mental health took a massive toll within you these past couple of months. More so your moods which tend to shift from extreme erratic highs and depressive lows. You rarely get the desired sleep you’ve been longing since nightmares tend to creep up on you. You’ve been hearing a certain voice for the longest time. Dating back to when you were a young girl actually.

During your childhood your parents were concerned when they found out you’ve been talking by yourself. At first they both thought it was normal and that having an imaginary friend you’ve envisioned from the top of your head was also normal. Most children tend to do so at a certain age.

What wasn’t normal is when they found certain drawings marked with crayons and markers of yourself with a demonic being in every single one of your drawings you’ve created on an old sketchbook. Oh yeah. Completely normal.

“Have you been following your medication regimen your psychiatrist prescribed you?” You nod in response to the question and smile.

“Of course.”

Your smile begins to slowly fade away when you suddenly see him.

He is sitting right beside your therapist. His eyes, cold and lifeless, scan the look that’s expressed upon your pretty face. His smile is so despicable – so wicked. He taunts by shaking the bright orange bottle that rattles within the room. It’s an indication that it’s full. It’s a painful reminder that you have not been taking your medication.

Your therapist noticed your eyes weren’t directly at her but at something else. She turned her head to the side to see what exactly were you staring at. From her point of view, there was just an empty seat.

“What do you keep staring at?” Your eyes dart back at your therapist. You exhaled the tension you held right through your nostrils. Your eyes, again, dart at the spot where he was sitting.

He was gone.

----------

Surging winds whistled and droplets of water trickled down the window of your bedroom. A crack of thunder was heard miles away. The sky was angry as you liked to call it.

You had your eyes closed shut. Too shut. A feeling almost as if you were trying to prevent your eyeballs being gouged out from both your eye sockets. You twist and turn, feeling the fabrics of your sheets against your bare skin with each sprightly friction that was being made.

Beads of sweat raced down alongside your temples and forehead. Your own sweat dampened the cotton fabric of your sleepwear which caused it to stick against your skin. Your body temperature was warm on the inside but you felt cold as ice on the outside. The blankets weren’t doing you much justice. You squirmed and released a low whimper.

Your heart races and pounds against your aching chest. With each pound your breathing hitches and hitches.

You are having a dark dream — a nightmare.

Why is it that every time you are trying to run in your dreams, you feel sluggish? You always somehow forget to run as fast as you can. You can’t keep up with your pace. Damn. What is the matter with you?

The nightmare comes to an end when you feel a sharp blade pierce your lower abdomen. He caught you.

His menacing laughter echoed within the trapped dark void you’re currently in. The pain halts your tracks. Your mouth gaping wide open at the sudden stinging sensation. Screaming and crying was the only option here. He draws you close by reeling you towards him with the handle on his blade. The silver metal still stuck deep within you. Your eyes meet his. You couldn’t see clearly enough with the amount of excess tears forming from the corners of your eyes. Everything in a matter of seconds was a blur.

You were too focused on trying to maintain your vision upon his glares. His movements. His features. Too damn focused to even care to notice your own blood pooling down his hand that grasps the handle of the knife, your legs, and down towards the ground. His tongue glides slowly against the side of your reddened cheek to taste the salty liquid. You couldn’t respond. You want to speak up but you’re struggling to find the words. Your lower lip quivering is the only response you can give.

He proceeds to remove the sharp knife with a swift pull and lick your blood clean off the blade with one swipe, releasing a satisfactory hum from tasting your own blood.

“Wake up.”

You’re wide awake.

You scream and lunge forward, sitting upright and pressing your lower abdomen tightly. A strike of lighting illuminates your room, causing a loud crack to startle you almost half to death to the point you could’ve fallen off your bed. Your breathing is completely unsteady. You looked down to where the blade originally pierced you and thankfully, no holes, no blood, no blade.

No him.

You reach over towards your nightstand and turn your lamp on. The light illuminates your room, revealing the usual furnishings and decorative accessories adorned. You cautiously scan your room to see if you weren’t alone. It took a moment for you to realize you were the only person in your own bedroom, thankfully. You can feel your own heartbeat returning at its own peaceful sync and your breathing maintaining its rhythm again.

You reminded yourself that it was only a nightmare, you weren’t stabbed, you aren’t dead. You’re safe.

From such a nightmare you had and having to know how sticky and wet you feel from sweating, this calls for a shower. There’s nothing more peaceful to know how the water will run and touch your skin. How your loofah will gently scratch and rub away all those disturbed sensations you felt. The aroma of calming lavender from your favorite body wash filling your nostrils.

You wasted no time hopping out from your bed, grabbing a clean pair of pajamas from your drawer and leaving your bedroom to head straight to your bathroom.

----------

The steam fills the air of your bathroom after your peaceful shower. That was so needed. You had a towel wrapped around your body tightly. You grabbed your phone to take a look at the time, swiping away the steam that covered the screen. Only half past one. You sighed and figured it will take a while for you to go back to sleep. You’ll probably read or maybe watch a movie to catch that melancholic drift again.

You opened the cabinet that was positioned right in front of you and above the sink. You grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste that was stored inside. You paused for a moment to stare directly at the orange bottle. It adorned neatly just waiting to be grabbed and open to drink. These pills are only here to help you feel better. You’ve been struggling to keep up with your regimen because of how impatient you become when you don’t feel or see the results you’ve been wanting. There’s always been trial and error to the point you’ve given up due to the side effects. It’s normal you think. It’s a new prescription, a new dosage. It really wouldn’t hurt to actively try.

Without another hesitation, you popped the top open and tossed a white pill inside your mouth. You cupped your hand underneath the faucet to allow the water to fill within your palm. You take a sip to help swallow the pill down.

You placed the orange bottle back into its rightful place and closed the cabinet. Your reflection was nothing but a blur, again, due to the steam from the shower you just took. You gently positioned the palm of your hand against the glass to swipe the steam clean.

“Pathetic.”

The voice was loud inside your head. Your entire body took a sudden screenshot. Your heart felt like it was going to come right out of your mouth along with the pill you just took. You glanced back and he wasn’t standing behind you. There was nothing and nobody. You stared at the reflection of the person that stared back in return. You began to back away but almost slipped due to a small spot of puddle from your shower when you stepped out. Your back pressed against something solid yet soft, something that was definitely not the wall of your bathroom. It was definitely not your head or back against the ground either. You felt arms underneath your own arms holding you tight to ensure you don’t fall.

He helps you regain your balance and you probably pull away faster than your own beating heart. You turn around and tilt your head up, eyes finally meet again. You feel like you’re reliving your nightmare. Only this time, it was real and you know it.

“Did I scare you?” He reminded you with a sly grin that paints across his face.

The fact that he had the audacity to show up after messing with you in your own dreamland was far too much. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, and walked around to grab the handle of your bathroom door and opened it. The moment you did he was suddenly standing outside. His arm over his head with his elbow resting on the wooden frame of your door. Staring down at you.

“That wasn’t funny, Joel.” You remarked.

Joel was his name. At least that’s what you have always called him when you were young. You see, he’s always been around you. Ever since you and your parents moved into that old home back in Austin, that’s when he began to appear around you. You thought he was your dad’s best friend or a neighbor who came by to visit. Only to learn that Joel never exists. Your parents never knew anyone by that name. You’ve come to learn that he was just a figment of your own imagination.

At least you thought…

“You know you don’t want to take them.” Joel teased. He followed behind you. Here we go. He is, again, painfully reminding you of how reckless you are and you’ve been in denial about your medication. You don’t want to be reminded by your reckless actions. You don’t need this conversation right now.

“It’s late. I want to be left alone.” You continued to walk towards your bedroom and slam the door shut in hopes that’ll make him disappear but it absolutely doesn’t. You should know better by now. You’re too exhausted to process your thoughts. He’s appeared sitting right on the edge of your bed. Eyes all over you.

“You think those pills will make you feel better?”

If there is anything that Joel enjoyed doing besides teasing you is he loved to have you on your last nerve. He knows you’ve never enjoyed the sound of truth.

“I want to get better. That’s all I want.” You defended. It’s true, you did want to get better. But you weren’t completely telling the truth all the way and he knows it.

“Don’t lie. You want to get rid of me.”

You paused right on your tracks. Your back is only facing him. The only sound filling the room is the rumbling sound of thunder and tiny droplets of water that pours from the sky down to your window and to the ground. Those words he mentioned hits you right in your own stomach. You can almost feel your stomach completely flip.

“Oops, did I say too much?” Joel released a low, devious, chuckle. A chuckle that caused you to shiver right where you stand. It was an eerie sound. You turned around to look at him.

“You know you can’t get rid of me.” Joel coos, almost mockingly.

He knew pushing every button you had and tormenting you amuses him to the core. It gained him power and control. It’s just the satisfaction he absolutely needed.

“You know how pathetic you look when you lie. Have you forgotten who I am? Nothin’ but a silly “ol’ imaginary pal” as you like to call me.”

“Stop it right now Joel…”

“No matter the amount of pills you take,”

“Please…shut up…”

“I will always be around you to remind you how weak you are.”

That’s where you felt a certain tick inside your head. A bomb. An explosive atomic bomb that seemed to spread all across your room.

“Leave me the fuck alone! Get the fuck out!” You snapped. All that anger you released caused you to form tears from the corner of your eyes. You felt the streams on each reddened cheek racing down. Your heartbeat briskly picks up its unsteady pace. You covered your eyes to refrain your tears from slipping out. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, you at least try not to but you just can’t help yourself.

You think he’s going to calm you down and apologize? You thought wrong.

You felt a sudden grip on both your wrists. He uncovers your wet eyes to stare directly into them.

“Watch your fucking tone with me!” You can feel his anger through gritted teeth. He growled. The way you felt his presence is rather dark and eerie. Another crack of lightning was heard. You felt the ground and walls almost shake from the loud sound. The light from the bolt illuminated your room yet again. Only this time it revealed his own shadow behind him that depicted a terrifying figure. A figure with large stretched wings and sharp horns.

He is the devil. A demon who managed to latch onto you this entire time. A demon who likes to stay and torment you because he knows how very fragile your mind is.

“You’re hurting me! Let go!” You tried to pull yourself away but he’s stronger than you. He kept his grip firm until you began to lose blood circulation. His hand clenched around both your tiny sensitive writs. You were starting to think he might’ve burst a vein by now. Your mouth gapes open in response to the uncomfortable pain.

“Hurting you?” He shushes you, his tone cold as ice. He releases his grip on your wrists that were now red and bruised. He caresses your damp cheeks. Wiping every tear drop you’ve released out of your own frustration with his thumbs. Oh, he missed a spot. It didn’t take him a second to hesitate by licking your last tear, tasting the salty liquid.

From the way his tongue lounged languidly alongside your cheek, your eyes widened in response to the sudden sensation. You lightly panicked and managed to step away since it reminded you of your nightmare. Shit. Was he going to stab you now?

“Don’t…” from anger to pleading was a sight for sore eyes. With every step you took backwards, Joel stepped forward. Not going to lie, you were a bit petrified by his known demeanor. His imposing appearance was indeed breathtaking. It was merely a disguise. His stoic expression gets you every time and has you rethinking about your own self worth. There wasn’t much space left when you felt your lower back pressed against the desk of your vanity, clutching your towel that miraculously still wrapped around your body. You focused on trying to maintain steady breaths all while your chest heaved. You knew there was nowhere to go anymore. You knew you can’t run away forever.

“I aint gonna hurt you…” to your surprise, Joel forced you to turn around. You can feel his grip against your arms, restraining them both behind your back. He had you right where he wanted you to be. You can only see what was going on through the reflection of your mirror, “I wanna make you feel good…”

The way he talks. That southern accent drawl sounded pure as honey can be. You knew damn well what he meant by feeling good. Your mind was telling you no but something else was oddly telling you yes.

“Not only are you pathetic but you’re beautiful when you’re scared…”

Joel pressed hungry kisses behind your left ear, following down towards your soft neck, and against your collarbone.

“Let me ease your tension away.” Your eyes fluttered shut in response to his slick gesture. Goosebumps rising to the surface of your skin. It felt good to feel his lips brush along your skin. A soft whine escapes past your lips when you feel his teeth scrape against your flesh where your pulse is located, leaving a lovely fresh purple-red mark.

Without a fair warning, Joel swiftly removes the towel away from your body, allowing the towel to drop to the floor. The cold air that touches your, now, bare skin causes a shiver to run down your spine and goosebumps to appear. You began to feel your own blood circulating to your cheeks. You felt embarrassed because he has never seen you this way. At least from what you can remember. You felt your own cunt lightly clench at the way he continued marking you, his territory. He left love marks against the empty spots of your sweet neck down to your shoulder. Your core was already starting a fire. He can sense it.

“Look at you, already eager and I barely touched you.” Soft chuckles escaped past Joel’s lips. He hums approvingly at just the sight of how fluttered you’re feeling. You open your eyes and stare at the way his eyes just scan and travel up and down your bare body. Hungry hands gripped and squeezed each side of your waist. You watched how his hands motion their way up towards your breasts. You earned yourself a firm squeeze. His index finger and thumb pinches and tugs your left pierced nipple. He found the silver jewelry that adorned your hard nipple quite attractive.

“I want you to touch yourself.” He commands in a tone that was awfully iniquitous. You blinked your eyes a few times, snapping back into reality from the alluring fantasy you were just in. You wanted to make sure you heard him correctly.

“E-Excuse me?” “You heard me.”

Touch yourself? You’ve only done so within the privacy of your own room. Never in front of someone, never ever in front of Joel. You began doubting yourself at this point. What if he’s actually seen every move you’ve made in bed? He is the devil after all. They’re nothing but sneaky tricksters. If he has seen you naked lying in bed, touching yourself with your toys, he would’ve made a move. What difference would it actually make to do so right in front of him? It’s too late to back down now. You were in a lust trance, you knew you could do this.

Before you can mention anything else, he beats you to it by grabbing your delicate hand with his free hand to slide it down towards your cunt. He positioned the tip of your index finger upon your sensitive nub. You felt like nothing but his toy puppet at this point. You didn’t pull away, you didn’t scream. You were curious – you were wanting to see where this goes.

Without his help you slowly began to rub small circles against your clit that was beginning to swell from the friction of your own finger. Your breathing was picking up through your nostrils, chest slowly heaving. The sensitive sensation of your own touch was starting to feel good.

“Good girl…” The way he praised you caused your cunt to once more clench in response. His hands grabbed your hips to thrust yourself back towards him. You felt his hard cock that was strained against the fabric of his pants press hard against your ass.

Your own precum glistened your delicate cunt. You slide two fingers across your folds to lubricate them to allow your clit to become wet and easy to rub. You daringly slip your index and middle finger inside your wet hole, pushing your fingers inwards and out at a steady pace. Your head fell back against Joel’s shoulder while your eyes remained shut to concentrate at only the way your fingers rubbed the insides of your walls. You started to release soft moans that vibrated against your throat.

You felt Joel’s hand caress your inner thigh and without any warning you felt another finger slide into you. A sudden gasp escaped past your lips. You released another moan. This time, that moan was loud. He hums from your reaction, “Yeah, that’s it.” Joel forced you to remove your own fingers and guide your hand towards his mouth. His tongue licks every bit of your remaining juices from your two soaked fingers, savoring your taste.

The way his finger slides inwards and outwards easily was elating. When it comes to this aspect of intimacy, you’ve never had anyone touch you the way the devil is. Something about his own touch hitting your own g-spot has got you thrusting your hips to the rhythm and pace of his finger. You were filled with anticipation of wanting more than just his own finger.

“Oh fuck!” You mewled. Joel held you tight in place by wrapping his other arm around your lower abdomen. He didn’t think twice about slipping his middle finger inside. He bites down against the flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. You were too aroused at this point to even deter the bleeding pain. Joel curled his fingers to ensure he’s hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Squelching, wet, sounds explicitly filled your room.

“J-Joel I’m gonna cum!” You regret even mentioning you were about to climax because the moment you did, Joel abruptly stopped.

You opened your eyes at the sudden pause. You were dazed and confused. You tried to catch your breath to speak but you were too weary to find the right words. Only mumbles slip past your lips. Your brows furrowed at the hot sensation subsiding. You wanted to reach your orgasm. You were absolutely needy.

“Don’t stop…why’d you—“ To your surprise, Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back for you to come face to face with him. You whined at the sudden painful gesture.

“Open.” He commands and you obliged. You should be embarrassed by the way you opened your own mouth so goddamn fast. It’s a slight shame but you didn’t care at this point. Joel slides in his two fingers that are soaked with your warm lubricant juices into your mouth. You closed your mouth and released a satisfactory hum. You sucked your own juices right off his fingers languidly. You maintained eye contact the entire time.

“Atta girl…” his wicked smile wide across his face. He removes his fingers from your mouth the moment you finish. Joel caresses the side of your face, almost petting you. Without warning he walked over towards your bed, his hand still maintaining a firm grip on your hair. He released his grip and pushed you against the mattress of your bed.

You landed right on your abdomen, the air escaping straight from your lungs at the sudden motion. You turned around and positioned yourself on your back, elbows resting on the firm mattress on each side of your body. Your eyes stared right at his thick hungry cock. Shit. From the way his cock felt pressed against your rear, there was no doubt about it he'd be that huge. Your mind quickly shifted thoughts as you noticed his clothes managed to disappear all of a sudden.

“How did you remove your clothes so fast?” You couldn’t help but release a snarky smirk. You wanted to giggle. Joel couldn’t help but crease his brows together, a look of disappointment showcasing his face. It suddenly became the usual stoic glare he’s always expressed. You know damn well he can reappear and disappear at any given moment. What a poor question to even ask.

To silence you and without any warning, he turned you around. Your back arched while your ass perks up. He spreads both your cheeks to reveal your needy holes. You felt your cheeks becoming hot again against your face. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you felt rather embarrassed to be in such a position to the devil. Someone who has been by your side ever since gets to see your most valued parts. Kudos to that.

“Shit! W-Wait! Joel I don’t think—” Joel silenced you with a strong slap across your ass cheek with his hand. The stinging sensation caused you to shriek. Eyes slightly form tears from the crude reaction.

“Fuck!” You squeaked. Another hard slap across the same spot upon your sensitive skin.

“You just can’t seem to shut up, can’t you?” Joel was tournamenting you. It finally occurred to you that he wanted you to stay silent. He wanted you to be a good girl for him. You pressed your lips together firmly at the last rough slap he made in contact upon your now reddened skin. You muffled out your scream from the intense pain. A teardrop managed to escape from one of the corners of your eye, staining your bedsheet.

“That’s better.” Joel assures you. He didn’t bother rubbing the pain away. Instead, he propped each cheek, spreading them apart again in order to lubricate your holes with his own saliva. You felt the dribble of his warm liquid making contact. You felt the way his saliva slid past your gaping hole and towards your aroused entrance. A whispered hum was released within you. You managed to wiggle your rear slightly and positioned yourself farther back.

“Such a needy little slut, are we?” He teased and grabbed his throbbing cock that was already begging to slip inside of you. He gave a few swift pumps to help ease his tension.

“Please fuck me…” You did not hesitate to refrain yourself from pleading. You kept your back arched, waiting for his next move. “You’re being nice now, hm?” He positioned the tip of his cock right towards your cunt. With one last tease, you felt the way his tip brushed against your wet hole, feeling his precum mixing together with yours. Without a warning, the inside of your walls began to stretch open. You released a sensual moan with your face planted and resting against your mattress. You clenched the fabrics of your sheets while he’s balls deep inside.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed all around your room. With every thrust Joel caused left you breathless and groaning. The stinging pain subsided and formed into a warmer sensation. There was nothing left on your mind but arousal. All your current problems you had going inside of your mind are gone. Any responsibilities you had to attend to, also gone. You felt his strong arm wrap around your stomach to pull you up and away from your mattress. Your back pressed firmly against his broad chest. Joel kept his grip to hold you tightly in place. His other free hand squeezed your neck firmly. You barely breathed. You began to see stars from how strong he kept his grip tightly against your neck. Hell, he’s definitely going to be leaving you sore the moment you wake up.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” with every thrust, your breath punched away from your lungs and you moaned. You felt the tip of his cock forcefully hitting your cervix all too well. “My fucking good girl…you belong to me.” Joel reminded you and released his grunts and hot breaths right against your ear. The way he grunts has your head spinning like crazy. Both skin felt tacky from sweat forming.

“You’re never getting rid of me…you’re mine.” Even with his hand firmly against your throat, you managed to miraculously speak with a soft straining tone all while he’s fucking you senseless. “I’m yours…mmm…your cock feels… s’good…” All you can do is just whine and cry. The sensation you felt happening inside of you was too much to bear. You were starting to feel overstimulated. You wanted to pull away to rest and catch your breath but he didn’t stop. The devil wasn’t going to let go of you. No man had ever managed to fuck you this rough. You were beginning to discover a new kink of your own that was hidden all this time.

“Being fucked by the devil feels good doesn’t it…?” Joel released his grip and grabbed both your arms to position them right behind you again. He leaned you forward to better position himself to hit nothing but your cervix and your g-spot. His pace is rougher than before. Your sore pussy clench and squeeze around his throbbing length, milking his cock exceptionally. You felt your climax about to rise and hit you any second now.

“Oh yes, yes, yes! It feels so f-fucking good!” Your eyes rolled towards the back of your head when you flickered them both shut at the inevitable sensation that exploded within you. A tingling sensation showered all across your body down to your core. A slow wave crashed over you to cause your legs to tremble. Your breathing was heavy. You tried to gain consciousness. Joel groaned and felt the way your cunt pulsates against his cock. He continued to thrust vigorously. The squelching sounds of both your juices dripped upon your fabric bedding. With one last harsh thrust, Joel buried his cock deep inside, almost piercing your cervix to release his cum. His strained grunts filled the air with your moans. You felt his hot seed paint and fill inside your sweet walls. “Mmm…fuuuck…” You giggled at the sudden high all while your vision was slightly impaired. Joel removed himself away from you, cum dripping down the back of your legs onto your mattress. He lies besides you, directly on his back, to catch and steady his breath. You slowly regained your consciousness and lied down beside him. You also focused on trying to also steady your breath alongside him.

Joel pinched the sides of both your cheeks to purposely have your face towards his. Your eyes slightly widen at the unexpected rude gesture. “Don't underestimate or lie to me next time.” He shoves your face away and straightens himself up. He moved away from your mattress. You lift yourself up and turn around to take a look at him. Your eyes dart and scan upwards and downwards at his clothing attire that suddenly appeared. A sly grin revealed itself from the corner of your lips. You tried so hard to abstain yourself from teasing him. “How did you put your clothes on so fast?” There was just silence and judgment filling the room. The only sound to interrupt the silence was just the roar of thunder. The sky is still angry and pouring down hard. Joel shamelessly shook his face, almost questioning your odd demeanor. Without another word he vanished, leaving you all alone naked, wet, and dirty. You sighed in return. This calls for another shower. Not only did Joel leave you alone, he left you lingering when your next devilish encounter will be.

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globaloppaaa · 9 months

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helllloooo!!!!!! I read your matthew and taerae things and they are super cute <33 I was wondering if you could do something similar for yujin? 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

ahh i’m so glad you like them!! thinking of making it a series for the rest of the guys but let me know if that’s something you guys would like!!

yujin things ₊˚🖇️ ✩ ₊˚ 🎧 ⊹

warnings: yujin is aged up in this writing, as i don’t feel the most comfortable writing for/about minors. still, there is no nsfw or suggestive content in this request. some swears are also included.

- is naturally so cute ?? this isn’t something new however yujin’s the kind of guy that just finds purity and sweetness in everything he comes across. ice cream, balloons, confetti, it makes him 100x more endearing because cuteness is his natural aesthetic.

- privately or with close friends though? he’s such a little shit

- will gaslight as much as he needs to get what he wants (which he doesn’t ask for often), but neither you nor the boys can resist him because he does that shy, “feel bad for me” look that’s gets you all worked up.

- CANNOT SIT STILL FOR ONE SECOND omfg- he’s finding all different kinds of ways to take “sitting down” to the next level. he’ll be rolling across the room in your office chair, bouncing on the couch head first, probably kicking his feet against your headboard…or stove..

- gets real up close and personal to your face at the most random moments. you could be sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone and- oh, there’s yujins nose in your business again.

- i’m taking ab these 😑

- on more than just a physical level, this man is always down to know what is going on with your life. pretends to seem uninterested until he finds time alone with you each weekend, where he’ll outright beg for the most recent drama.

- is always prepared, especially when it comes to things you not only need, but might simply want in the moment. forgot a pen? he keeps a few of yours in the front pocket of his bag. thirsty? he’ll drop a juice box at your side out of the blue and you’re left to wonder where the hell he got that from.

- the guy that will never leave you dehydrated, because he keeps a water drinking app on his phone to track you. he likes to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, because not seeing you at your best means yujin isn’t fully at his best either.

“ahhh but if you have this soda we can’t meet your goal for today! 😲”

“FINE, i’ll order a water please. 👹”

- if your female identifying, he also has an app to track your cycle. actually, this man has an app for everything about you, even a personal mood journal, where he can document what you said, did, and how you reacted. yujin loves his apps, and yujin also looooves to take care of you.

- not huge on pda, but he gets a little thrill from small acts of affection that are almost impossible to notice. holding pinkies, tying shoelaces, or zipping up your jacket really make him feel like a daredevil >:)

- calls you noona, doesn’t care if you’re older or younger than him. it’s a natural part of the relationship at this point and you just gotta deal with it. if there’s quite a big age gap between you two he’ll call you noona-baby and it doesn’t make much sense, but when it’s coming from his sweet voice you really can’t complain. 😵‍💫💗

globaloppaaa© do not copy, modify, or repost my work without consent and permission

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Best and Worst of both worlds (Part 4) [Choice: GO TO UNIVERSITY]

tw: yandere, slight injury

damn yall iam tempted to add a third mid yandere like not as slayer girlboss as Yves but not as cringefail Montgomery, but fr idk how to slot it into the story because i think its gonna get 2 crowded

anywahys enjouy and pleas id appreciate them reblogs

part 5

You gave him the address of your university. He may now know where you frequent, but at least he doesn't know where you live.

"Alright, buckle up."

"Here ya' go." He pulled up right to the entrance.

You muttered thanks, but as you were unbuckling yourself, he told you to wait for a moment.

You watch him fish a ballpoint pen and an old flyer from somewhere, he removes the cap of the pen using his teeth before scribbling something on the piece of printed paper. He took something out from the side pocket of his door before shoving it into your hands.

You opened your palm to see that he had written his phone number on a torn brochure of the countryside. You quizzingly looked at the crumpled $20 note between your fingertips.

"I'm... actually not done workin' for the day. I'll have to work extra hours to make up the ones I lost. I don't know how long you'll be here, but I bet you're gonna get hungry or thirsty."

You said that you can't accept this, it's a lot of money!

He laughed right at your face.

"Don't worry about it! I'm workin' full time, that's just a little change for me. You just focus on settin' your grades straight. I'll probably clock out at ten in the evening. Give me a call and I'll pick you right up if you're still here by then."

Well, if he insists. You shoved the cash and his number into your pocket as you opened the door. He got out and opened his trunk, he retrieved your backpack with a grunt.

"What's is IN here?" He mumbled as he found it abnormally heavy for someone of your stature to carry daily. You replied that it's your study materials, he only shook his head in pity.

"Are you sure you're alright on your own?" He helped you get your arms into the loops of your straps.

You assured him that you're fine and you're used to this. He opened his mouth about to say something, but you already took off running. You looked back and waved goodbye, he scratched his head in bafflement as to how someone like you can run that fast with that much load.

The next bus is in an hour.

Sitting under the bus shelter is definitely not ideal in this severe weather. You wiped the sweat off your brow.

The only place you know you could lurk around without seeming strange is the library or one of the university's many cafes. You checked the time, it's still just half past three in the afternoon. Yves doesn't leave until six.

The cafe it is.

You don't know what to expect, whatever they're selling is always out of your budget. So you never bothered going near it, as it only made you hungry and bitter that you weren't born into generational wealth. But since you're a rich person today thanks to... what was his name again? You had a small spring in your step as you made a beeline to the cafe.

Perhaps you were too excited, you were too fast and too distracted by the various blackboard easels around promoting their respective cafe's dishes. You weren't paying attention to the man leaving the establishment

You bumped into something, rather, someone. Your collision is followed by the sound of a hot liquid spilling and a metal clanking. You gasped, trying to take steps back but you ended up stumbling over your own feet, tripping over your own ankle and falling backwards.

A sense of deja vu washed over you as a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, keeping you steady and unharmed. But your dignity is definitely bruised to death.

You were afraid to look up. You know who this chest belongs to. Who else would wear a black turtleneck in this scorching hot weather and not break a sweat?

You muttered apologies as he lets go, realizing that not only did you commit accidental assault on your biggest crush, but you also made him spill the golden brown, clear, steaming tea that he's probably looking forward to drinking.

He grabbed you by the wrist and began inspecting you for any burns. Your eyes trailed to his other hand, which is now reddened by the scalding liquid splashing onto his skin. His fingers are still wrapped around his half empty, reusable stainless steel thermal cup. The rubber lined lid is now on the floor, sitting still in a puddle of wasted tea. The smell of jasmine permeates the air and into your nose.

Once he deems you unharmed, he lets go. And you rushed to pick his lid up, flicking any remaining liquid off before nervously presenting it to him.

"Thank you." He plucked it out of your hands and entered the cafe again. Through the pristine glass door, You watched him talk to the employee behind the cash register, they nodded and accepted his cup. Soon after, someone came out with a mop in hand.

They smiled and greeted you as they placed the mop onto the puddle. You panicked when the staff opened the door and invited you in.

At this point, you wanted to run away and hide in a ditch. But Yves is staring at you as he wipes his injured hand with a cool, damp towel provided by cashier. There doesn't seem to be any discernible emotion present on his face, but when you tried to flee- even only a single step, he narrowed his eyes at you.

Defeated, you hung your head low and went in. Setting your kiloton bag onto a nearby chair before making the walk of shame to the counter.

You tried not to look at his face, knowing that you're going to burst into tears out of severe embarrassment and guilt. You went straight to the cashier and asked to pay for his replacement.

"No worries! You don't have to, we replaced his drink free of charge. It was an accident, after all!" She chirped.

That came to you as a surprise. Aren't they supposed to be money hungry? Well, whatever. At least you don't have to pay extra, but you asked about their pastry choices. You wanted to buy him something sweet to make it up for the bitterness.

"Right this way!" She walked to the display case. They all look exquisite, but you felt like your eyes are about to pop out of your head with the prices. Unfortunately for you though, the option which is the most presentable and the cheapest is a large slice of fresh cream fruit cake, for the price of exactly twenty dollars.

You tried to hide your hesitance as you told her you wanted a slice. Good lord, and you see people eating their baked goods every day. She prepared one on a quaint little ceramic plate, placing a miniature fork next to it.

"That will be twenty dollars." You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from grumbling, knowing that Yves has some sort of superhuman hearing. You fish the $20 out of your pocket and try your best to smoothen out the wrinkles.

The woman's customer service smile faltered a bit when she felt a little resistance trying to take the note from you. It took a few more seconds of you mourning and tugging it before you finally let go.

"Thank you!" She beamed again.

Finally, you have no choice but to face him. At least you have a plate of cake with you.

His gaze softened and the straight line formed by his lips was replaced by a pleased smile. You followed him to the table where you placed your bag.

He set his bag down on the chair next to him and took a seat. You placed the dish on the table, you're actually unsure if he wanted you here or left alone. So you awkwardly stood nearby, waiting for the next social cue.

"It's been a while since we last talked. I missed you." He purred. His words and body language is enough to tell that he's accepting of your presence. But you're still cautious, it could just mean he's being nice for treating him to a scrumptious dessert.

"Please." He gestured towards the chair opposite of him. "Take a seat. I would love to catch up with you."

It would be rude not to. You settled in your chair, completely disregarding the rule you set for yourself to not mingle with him.

The table is... smaller than you thought. You're physically a lot closer to Yves than you would like, the table barely served as a barrier between you and him.

"How have you been?" He asked while taking a bottle of hand sanitizer from his bag. Yves applied a decent amount on his palm and rubbed it in thoroughly, going gentle on his recent injury.

You said you were... fine. Not wanting to reveal too much about yourself. The last time that happened, you managed to act a like fool in front of Montgomery. You don't want to look stupid in front of Yves. So you threw the question back at him.

He hummed in response. "I suppose... it could be better."

Yves left it at that. You don't know what to say next, trying not to look at the fresh burn. So you apologized again.

"You're forgiven." He shot you a teasing smile. "How endearing of you, treating me to a slice of this decadent sweet." Yves picked up the fork to cut and retrieve a piece.

"And, It's my favourite. Why don't you have a taste?" He brought the fork closer to your face. You tried taking the utensil, but his other hand went ahead to hold your chin. Applying a gentle pressure to silently signal that he wanted you to open your mouth.

'Why is he like this?' You internally screamed as you allowed the detectability of the cake to sink onto your taste buds. You might be biased, thinking that the dessert is a thousand times better due to him feeding you. You thought that this is the best thing you ever ate in your life.

Your face is probably hotter than his tea at this point. Curling your toes in your shoes as the embarrassment becomes nearly unbearable.

He released his hold as soon as he felt a little tug from your head, knowing not to go too far with his actions; just enough to excite your growing infatuation with him.

You give him a thumbs up as you repeatedly wipe your face with your sleeve as if trying to wipe away the blushes under your skin. Your ears perked up at his chuckles, it was something that you would like to hear often. But you don't think it's worth having heart attacks over.

"Your classmates were discussing about the exam." He cut another piece for himself. You watched him with widened eyes as he used the same fork to eat the cake; daintily covering his mouth with his hand. Yves didn't seem to care that the utensil was smeared in your saliva and proceeded with his train of thought. "They were lamenting over it in the library."

Then, he stopped. Bringing his piercing gaze back up to you.

You freaked out, realizing that this is the cue for you to respond appropriately. You let slip out that the paper was atrocious and you were fully expecting to fail your course. Blood ran cold in your veins as you realized he now knows more than he should.

"That's a shame." He replied. "But, you're being unfairly harsh on yourself."

He was interrupted by a staff member handing Yves his thermos cup filled with his Jasmine tea. Yves thanked them and they went back to their post.

"You're clearly dedicated to your studies." He nonchalantly fed you a piece again, this time without having to hold your face. Only when you bit into a slice of strawberry among the fresh cream did you realize what you had done. Yves slid the metal fork out of your mouth and took another scoop for himself.

This is extremely unsettling how you suddenly felt that comfortable accepting his antics.

"I know you did well." He took his time chewing his food behind his fingers. "You will not fail."

You found comfort in his words no matter how much you thought he didn't know anything about your life. It was nice to have someone recognize your efforts for once without resorting to fake pity.

However, unless your marker accepts tear stains as coherent answers, you are definitely going to fail.

Though, there is a small part of you that found it weird Yves is so sure of himself. It almost feels like your valid worries are simply sleep talk to Yves. But in the end, you dismissed it and convinced yourself that he's just a huge fan of toxic positivity.

You and him continued the day chatting about each other. Mostly about you, though. There were many times that you caught yourself oversharing, the majority of which you either downplay or overplay depending if it made you look good or bad.

Yves would only have a mysterious, even knowing smile on his face when you grossly upsell some of your best moments. You don't know why you did that, maybe subconsciously you tried to impress him.

Eventually though, you don't seem to mind sharing forks with this man who you spoke to twice and counting in your life. You realize if he wanted you to shut up about something, he feeds you a piece. You were offended, but humbled because you would immediately realize how ridiculous you're sounding at that moment.

You swear, Yves must be a practitioner in the dark arts. He made you act in ways you don't normally do, you're unusually attracted to him and he always seems to know how to control you.

You made a mental note to check your bag for any stray crystals, strange leaves, rocks or jewelry when you get home.

Yves sets the fork down on the empty plate before taking a sip of his tea. He listens attentively to every word you tell him about your interests in your favourite colour, your favourite TV show, your favourite song-- things that you knew would bore just about anyone.

Because if someone you don't really know were to rave about whatever you're raving to Yves, you would be fucking bored out of your mind. Your friends and family would be bored too, why is Yves so different? You're completely self aware that whatever you're blabbering right now should cease.

But somehow couldn't stop for the life of you.

It was like a projectile vomit of words, you kept yapping endlessly while Yves nodded and occasionally interjects with his own opinion at the most appropriate times.

In the end, the only thing that snapped you out of this mania is overhearing one of the staff members complaining about having to take the filles trash bag out back.

You knew that food establishments usually do that at the end of the day and you were instantly reminded of something important.

His smile fell into a thin line again when you suddenly whipped your phone up to check the time.

Two busses has gone by and you're still here. The next bus is in five minutes.

You scrambled to gather your belongings, hopped off the chair, and said a quick goodbye to Yves- right after explaining that your bus was arriving soon. He didn't look too happy with your sudden departure, all he did was observe you unspeakingly with his posture straight. Both of his hands were resting on the table atop each other.

You felt chills down your spine as he looked straight into your eyes with no anger, no sadness, but none of that warmth from before.

It scared you, but missing the bus again scares you even more at this point in time. So you took off running, leaving him alone in the cafe.

He spent a few more minutes sipping on his stone-cold tea before, collecting his cup, standing up, and leaving the building. Yves closed the door behind him and from his handbag, he drew out a familiar piece of printed paper with a certain construction worker's phone number scribbled onto it.

Yves took his time to tear it to shreds with controlled, fluid movements of the wrists. He repeated enough times to give him a handful of thin, even strips. There was no way of knowing what the document was anymore, which satisfied him.

He dropped his handiwork into the trash can he walked past. Yves sanitized his hands before heading in the direction of your bus stop with slow, relaxed strides.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc montgomery #yandere ocs x reader #male yandere ocs #yandere ocs #tw slight injury

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dairy-farmer · 2 months

Note

Ooooh~ Had a THOUGHT(TM)~☆! Accidental Meta Powers Groping Au! :D

Consider all the Weird Shit(tm) Batman gets exposed to during the course of your standard Superheroic Adventure. Goo and Rays and Beams, curses and countercurses. Gods. Alien nonsense. It's A LOT for the body to handle!

He goes away to help the JLA on some Alien Distress call. Gets VERY fucked up. Big ouch. Might not make it. But he saved the building full of kids he was trying to evacuate and stopped the alien's planet from being blown up.

So? They make an exception for him. Since he's their HERO.

They use their Super Advanced Alien Healing Pod on him. Don't worry buddy! We scanned the OTHER human with you and know what a healthy human looks like! We can fix you!

Problem? That other human? A dumbass. So worried about Batman... they forgot that THEY were Meta and HE was NOT.

And Batman is a little too unconscious and full of holes that shouldn't be there to remind anybody. #OhNo.

Bruce wakes up on the flight back. Feels a decade younger. Which he SHOULD because the Meta Dumbass is in his TWENTIES. You dense, dense mother-fucker! Bruce has VISABLY lost a DECADE. He wants to hit him.

A chair flies from next to him, directly at the guys head.

What.

He's telekinetic. WHY does he have telekinesis? Meta Dumbass starts sweating. It's... a long flight.

Worse? Green Lantern stayed behind to help organize relief efforts. It'll be AT LEAST a year before he's back and can get Bruce back to normal. He knows, because he strong arms a deep space video call.

They kinda used their LAST function pod on him. Great honor and all that. Are horrified they fucked up. But can't fix anything until the planet is less... flattened.

Bruce breathes. Remembers his meditation training. This is Fine(tm). He understands. Take your time, not your fault. He's just gonna have to get this under control until it can be fixed.

Problem is? It responds to his thoughts. Usually before he's aware he's having them. Thirsty? Here's a drink. Vaguely tired? Chairs. Note to self? Why not ACTUAL notes? Pen and paper!

He gets home EXHAUSTED. Explains what happened to Alfred. Not so much Tim, but Tim overhears, since he's eating dinner in the room. Weird things happen and things moving? Don't be alarmed. Just Bruce. Got it.

Tim feels someone ruffle his hair. Hug him.

Bruce is across the room and already turning away. Ah. Better not mention it. He's already jumpy around affection. Barely getting better. If he thought even THINKING about stuff like that was bad? Because it would "betray him"? Yeeeeah, hard pass, Tim decides. Besides. Hugs are nice, even if Bruce doesn't know he's giving them.

But of course~ Bruce is obsessive. His thoughts fixate and spiral. Tim gets used too, very quickly, the panicked pat-downs by hands that arent there, looking for injury. The lingering holds on the back of his uniform, ready to drag him back from danger or jumps Bruce doesn't think he can make. The hair ruffles. The almost needy, full body hugs.

Touches no one can see. That Bruce doesn't realize just WANTING, makes happen.

Tim has a great Party Mask. Has long been able to ignore choking suits and pinching shoes, the exhaustion, all the bruises from chasing his idols, and keep his face serene. This is no different.

Then the classic Go Wrong. Our beloved Ivy.

No place for Robins. So Bruce goes alone. Saves the day. But is hit, as usual. An unfortunate reality of her escapes. Has already hit himself with the counter-agent... but... he suspects this might be a new strain. It wasn't as effective as it should be.

He stumbles out of the car and into the emergency wash. Tim is there to help him get upstairs, as he all but falls out. It's a mistake.

There are hands and tounges, licking and groping and sucking EVERYWHERE, the second Bruce locks eyes on him. Digging into and worshipping places NO ONE has ever touched before, so hard his legs lock up and he freezes. He can barely move. Doesn't know what expression he's making but knows he's choking on the noises he's trying hard NOT to make.

They collapse half way to the stairs. Bruce pulling him into a vice tight hug, panting against a shoulder, as he trembles and refuses to give into what he so badly wants to DO to him. Not realizing he already IS. That fingers and tounges are working his holes open. Plunging in and in and IN. Finding things and grinding.

Tim can only shake and try to suck in air. Try not to let the noises out. Because he's afraid if he gives in, he won't be able to STOP. Everything's gotten so wet. He can't move. It's too much, all at once. Feels good but is scary. But Bruce is here. And he's trying NOT too. Not his fault. And, and-!

Alfred saves them. Is able to haul Bruce up and off to his room. Give Tim an anti-agent.

Because he got "exposed" too. Helping Bruce.

He doesn't argue, even if the shot makes him feel sick for a while. But, the thing IS? Bruce has become... AWARE of him, now. Because now the hands massage and stroke. He feels them palm his chest or butt, just to tease or squeeze a bit.

And after patrol? When they go to BED? Tim has to read Bruce's mood. Decide if he wants to stay at the Manor or his house. Because? When Bruce his stressed? He... relieves it. Perfectly normal, of course. But his THOUGHTS? Tim knows they're of him.

Because he feels them.

And he... he doesn't know if he's READY. It was so, so MUCH.

But of course, Bruce is better at hiding things then even HE is. And eventually he slips up. Is staying over. When one moment he is getting comfy, the next? Hands are pining him to the bed. His own pajamas used to muffle him, pushed up and out of the way. So mouths that aren't there can tease and abuse his nipples. Lick his skin like they want to devour him.

Go lower and lower. Pajama pants gone and hands holding him wide. For the world and no one at all to see. Bruce's clashing thoughts and desires meaning Tim gets both. Fingers teasing him AND mouth eating him out. Squeeling and panting, thrashing but unable to escape. His orgasms secondary to the fantasy happening a few rooms over.

Having a tounge fuck him even as fingers do. His chest being teased. Being able to HEAR the wet shlick noises and see his skin react. Feeling his hole being held open for something BIGGER. His ass being teased. Bruce unable to decide but turned on none the less.

Filled up, his first time on a cock that isn't even THERE. And, oh. Tim feels good and terrible and so FULL. Then it's moving and it's just good and full. Pounding all the good parts. Punching little noises out of him. And he wish it wasn't the powers. That Bruce was HERE doing it. But it's GOOD. And he ends up gushing wet and boneless.

LOVES Bruce's Stress Relief nights. Would go over and HELP if he could.

But Bruce is still affection shy. And Tim is still working on that. But hey.

Now Tim has a goal.

(And is DEVASTATED when they fix Bruce's "Gene Spliced Problem" even if he won't say why.)

-🐼🐼🐼

bruce using his surprise psychic powers to molest tim 🤭

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim

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otto-apocalypse · 8 months

Text

Amount of times we've seen Otto pretty much shirtless in random order, a thread🧵:

1) GGZ Valentine web event (CN only) (I'm still looking for the original sprite, I have already the fully clothed one)

2) AE Visual Novel where it's normal to meet for the first time your pen friend in a hot bath, covered only by a thin white towel.

3) A Bilibili video for GGZ, which was animated on it, and got also turned into an OFFICIAL wallpaper.

4) Official merch...

5) Othe Bilibili CN only video for GGZ where everyone's a cat, and he's naked for some reason (I approve) (I swear someone at mHY is thirsty for him, and not only 7S' artist)

6) His 6th Eidolon on HSR and holy moley

7) GGZ YET AGAIN, for a story chapter. Of course it's a wallpaper.

8) Retconned manga from when they hadn't figured out what his personality was so he's more like his GGZ self than his self in HI3

9) His "super avatar" (that he messed up because he's actually a dork in disguise) from 2nd Eruption manga

10) 2nd Euption, encounter with WoH

Bonus point: Not exactly shirtless, but he loosens his shirt A LOT

Bonus pt2 I can't resist

#otto apocalypse #luocha #honkai impact #honkai impact 3rd #hi3 #honkai star rail #hsr #GGZ

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

Text

A Quiet Moment || Jonathan Levy x fem!Reader

Summary: when Jonathan returns from work, you and he share some quiet and sweet moments

Warnings: none

Word count: 1659

Author: Fenrir & Cass

Loneliness became more like solitude as time passed.

Your life had been filled with loneliness for as long as you could remember. Because there were so many exams and subjects that were so boring that it was sometimes easier to fall asleep on your books than learn from them, being a history student didn't help me have a rich social life. Your entire life changed when you met Jonathan, the philosophy professor. Those lectures were so captivating that you were surprised at how quickly time passed.

Your friendship blossomed into something more; a genuine, serious relationship bloomed like a flower.

When you heard the lock on your door screech with the spare key, you were overjoyed. You dropped your pen, dashed downstairs, and jumped into the arms of a man as soon as he removed his coat.

"Hello there," Jonathan softly greeted you, wrapping his arm around your petite waist. It was actually nice to return to a place where he could relax and be greeted with some affection. Maybe the whole thing wasn't smart or acceptable, but this was where he felt good. This was exactly what he needed to do to feel completely satisfied. He kissed your temple after putting the bag down, keeping you close. "Are you still awake? I was certain I'd find you in bed."

"I've been studying for a history exam and have decided not to sleep until you get home. Are you hungry and thirsty? I made zucchini lasagne."

"I told you not to sit or wait for me for too long. You should rest before the exam," he reminded you as he led you into the kitchen. "Would you like to eat with me?"

"Wash your hands and get comfortable. I'll heat everything!" You joyfully exclaimed. "Tea? Or beer?"

"I'll just go get some water. You appear to be in a good mood today. Did something happen while I was away? Is there any good news?" Jonathan washed his hands while watching you rush around the kitchen. He grabbed the glass and filled it with water before sitting down at the table, pushing glasses up.

"I got an A in European history," you said with a smile. "I didn't get the highest possible score, but that's irrelevant." You quickly served the lasagne and grabbed your portion to join him at the table.

"I'm glad to hear it, and I must add 'I told you so,' because the day before you were freaking out about European history," Jonathan chuckled, remembering how scared you were despite the fact that there was no reason for it. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Your ex-wife called you. A few times, actually. She left a message for you."

Jonathan came to a halt with his food, staring at you.

He nodded, sighing deeply. "I hope she was pleasant. Did she explain why she called again?"

"No, these are 'your things,' and she 'will not be speaking with a third wheel about your private matters,' yeah?" You informed him simply.

He frowned again, adjusting his glasses. "Did she call you that, or did you interpret what she said?"

"I quoted her," you said, your tone a little sad. "I mean, I don't pay attention to her bragging, as you suggested, but it's annoying."

"I know it is," he nodded, reaching for your hand and gently pulling it closer to kiss your knuckles. "I promise I'll talk to her so she doesn't call here and remember, you're not the third wheel for me."

"Are you certain... I sometimes feel ridiculous for falling in love with you..."

"How come?"

"You're the professor, a promising man. And me? Just another dull student."

Jonathan sighed and pushed his chair back. "Please come here," he said quietly, grabbing your hand with the one he was still holding.

You took an offended position on his lap, instinctively putting a strand of your hair behind his ear. "You know what I'm like. I'm a little overwhelmed."

"I know, but I've also told you numerous times that there's no reason for you to," wrapping his arms around your waist, he reminded you. "Do you think I'd be here if you were just a boring student?"

With a shrug and tilt of your head, you replied, "I don't think so, Jonathan."

"So, why are you saying all of this?" He asked you again, and when he didn't get an answer, he kissed your shoulder. "You are more than a student. You are much more to me than that. I've told you this before, Y/N. I adore you."

You laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know I love you, baby, and I fell hard for you," you assured, resting your forehead against his and rubbing your nose against his.

His hand pressed against your nape, keeping you close. "You are a safe haven for me. There is no other place where I feel more at ease. I had a difficult day, but it improved when I returned home to you."

"Do you really mean it, love?" You inquired, nuzzling the back of his neck.

"Of course I'm serious. Why would I deceive you?"

"I never stated that you lied to me."

"Because you ask such a question, it means you don't believe me or doubt my words," he concluded with raised eyebrows.

"I just don't feel like I'm enough."

"You are more than sufficient. I wouldn't be here if you weren't sufficient," Jonathan kissed your cheek and nodded. "Now. Let's eat and then go to bed."

You pressed your lips to his cheek before returning to your seat to finish your meal.

Jonathan eventually began to eat as well. He was always a fan of your cooking. He helped you clean up after the meal and then accompanied you to your bedroom. He smiled as he saw the state of the bed.

Your laptop, books, and notebooks were all turned on, but the most intriguing thing was that his pillow was among them. "Someone missed me."

You began to remove your belongings from the bed in an attempt to conceal your blush. "You know how much I enjoy having you here with me, so I like to have your scent linger on me whenever I'm alone."

He picked up one of the books and handed it to you, laughing "Prepare the bed while I go take a shower. We can then cuddle. Does that sound right?"

You responded with a nod of eagerness.

He kissed you quickly and then went into the bathroom.

You made the bed, changed into fitted shorts and an oversized t-shirt, climbed aboard, and waited for your man to join you.

Jonathan finally joined you in bed after a half-hour wait. He sat on the bed and placed his glasses on the nightstand before falling asleep. "Come here."

Your head was instantly placed to his chest, where you placed a few tiny kisses. "Hi."

"Hello there," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "Would you like me to spoon you? I know you enjoy it."

You simply nodded. "But not yet, because I'll fall asleep right away."

"Is that a bad thing? You require rest, especially after such intensive study."

"Let me store as much as I can with you."

"You cuddly, little Y/N," Jonathan chuckled as he squeezed you tight. "I was just thinking about something."

"About?"

"One weekend, we can just pack our belongings and go somewhere for three days. We can even bring Ava along, if Mira would let me. I'm sure you like her," he explained his concept. "The entire weekend, away from it all."

You rolled to your back and nodded with heart eyes. "When?! I want to! Ava is a wonderful girl!"

"I'm not sure yet. We'll need to plan it, as well as find a nice hotel and some interesting places to visit, make a hotel reservation," Jonathan shook his head.

You simply nodded. "I'll look into it tomorrow."

Jonathan laughed, nodding his head. "So eager. I am not going to stop you."

"You're too cute."

"Me? You're the cute one here."

"Thanks," you replied. "Do you think your wife will let Ava with us? She doesn't like me."

"It shouldn't be a problem, in my opinion. When I take her on my weekend trip, she will have nothing to say," Jonathan kissed your head while shrugging. "But don't be concerned, pretty little head. Mira and I will deal with it."

"That woman is beyond my comprehension. She was the first to pursue a younger man."

"Believe it or not, I don't understand her either, but I'm used to it."

"Jonathan?"

He hummed in response.

"What do you think, maybe one day we could consider... If we'll be together long enough... Having a... I feel silly."

"Say it."

"A baby. I mean a baby."

Jonathan rolled onto his side, drawing you in closer.

"Y/N. You don't have to ask me about this," he said quietly, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. "I told you openly that I still wanted a baby and agreed to wait until you were ready."

You simply nodded. "Seeing your little girl makes me want to have a baby, but I'm not sure I'd be a good mother, having a child is a huge responsibility. And the last thing I want to do is disappoint you."

"I saw you with Ava, and from what I saw, I know you'll be a great mom," he said, cuddling you. "You won't be alone in this."

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you nestled in his arms.

"I adore you and am confident that you will excel," Jonathan held you close and whispered.

You closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat, which made you feel more at ease than before.

"Now. Just relax and don't think about it. You require it." Then he turned to his nightstand and switched off the lamp.

#Jonathan Levy x reader #Jonathan Levy #scenes from a marriage #Jonathan (scenes from a marriage) x reader #Jonathan Levy x you #scenes from a marriage fic #Jonathan Levy drabble #Jonathan Levy imagine #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac drabble #Oscar Isaac fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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sinnerxroulette · 4 months

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"We aren't going to last long unless we do something about him!"

Pen hears Vaggie say through his tablet, the "him" in question being Adam. First man, and seemingly the final opponent for one Alastor the Radio demon.

Though.

Considering Astor, his shade, was still actively participating in battle with the "chickens" then the serpent had a different guess. Instead of a duel to the death, things definitely ended with Alastor taking a hasty retreat. They probably wouldn't see him again any time soon...

Now, Adam was blasting them with his "holy light". Victorious and vicious.

"Of course....!"

There was only one thing left to do- well, two things. Actually.

The first was saying Good Bye.

Luckily, Astor wasn't far away. General Pentious caught him just as the shade fell one more angel, her screams as she fell to the ground far below echoed as he grabbed the shade about the shoulders and pulled him around.

Pen then dipped the crazed, blood thirsty deer he adored so much and gave him a final desperate kiss. It wasn't too hard or too soft, just the right amount of pressure to convey his emotions- too many to say in the little time they had left.

He allowed it to linger for just a few moments of the battle, sounds of fighting and explosions all around them, and then it was over. And Pentious was pulling back.

"Astor, I love you. Please always remember that."

And then he was gone, slithering away as fast as he could because he could not run to meet his doom aboard his air ship.

"Eggs, activate thrusters! And charge the death ray!"

He hoped Astor would forgive him, someday.

@shadowofthehost

#get feels!#shadowsnake #sir pentious

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bosskie · 5 months

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'Molluck is enjoying his time at the Yaymans.'

Just a random sketch-like Molluck thing I did to practice anatomy, lighting, background and perspective stuff. I feel like it's been like a decade since I truly drew something to practice anatomy... I haven't truly practiced anatomy for so long... I tend to just draw and use references when I need but don't really do any practive stuff or studies, that's what I mean. I feel like I truly need to practice more drawing since I feel like I know nothing about anatomy, lighting, colours or perspective stuff...

I have been wondering if I should start doing proper traditional stuff again (I have so much traditional art supplies, many even unused, mostly bought by me...) or/and buy something proper digital art stuff since I'm drawing with a computer mouse and it does restrict me in a certain way, I cannot draw as naturally as I could. My self-hatred has made me feel like I'm just wasting those art supplies if I use them but they are actually wasted when I don't use them. Same thing is with that digital art stuff since I haven't felt like spending money on that stuff, felt like I only draw crappy stuff... I don't even know which one would be better, a drawing tablet or a drawing screen. I had once a crappy drawing tablet for a short time and I didn't really like it but I also have drawn some stuff with an iPad but with a crappy touch pen, so it wasn't ideal either... So, yeah, I don't really know which one I should even choose.

I feel sorry for being like this since I do know what it ain't nice to hear an artist calling their art crappy but I'm so used to feel like so, I suffer from severe self-hatred, for no reason... Since a child, I have heard compliments about my art but it seems like my self-hatred or perfectionism or something has just strongly disagreed, so my self-confidence hasn't truly grown... There somewhere it still touches me to hear if people enjoy my art since it's something unexpected for me. I only wanna be honest and I don't wanna pretend to be any better artist than I actually am.

I'm not totally sure of how to draw Molluck's body but I'm trying my best to learn it since he has such a beautiful body... I just don't get enough of this Gluk... I don't really have much time to draw or any other free time stuff but I just wanted to draw this to admire his body, once more... Yeah, too thirsty for him to let this be... Yeah, like I have said, OWI succeeded to create my 'ideal man' I didn't even know about until I got into him... But yes, I still need to practice drawing him... And yes, I do think that pink suits Molluck!

I still don't know what to do with my art but well, I publish this like this since well, this is just a random practice thing, a bit WIP too since I just don't feel like spending more time on this, too busy for it, need to move on... I wish I had more time to draw so I could truly improve my art... I feel like I'm kinda stuck since I haven't truly practiced for a decade... Just drawn and trusted my eyes.

#oddworld molluck #molluck #molluck the glukkon #oddworld #oddworld glukkon #art like a bosskie

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here-have-some-stories · 1 month

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Silent Laughter Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 10

By the time I got home, I was panting and sweating a little from the run. Man was I grateful to be home. When I opened the door I was greeted with a big open room. I stood in the doorway, stunned. Everything was missing. The furniture, the pictures on the wall, the bits and pieces crammed into storage containers in the corner of the room, all gone. I stepped into the room slowly, turning around in circles, looking high and low to see if anything was left. There was nothing. I could see into the kitchen from where I was standing and it looked to be just as empty. Just to be sure, I checked all the kitchen cabinets, drawers and the fridge but there was nothing.

I moved my search into the hallways and into the other rooms, each were equally empty. There was nothing left in the house. It was like it was brand new, or being put up on sale, ready for someone new to move in. With everything missing, it felt as if all the physical evidence of all the memories I had with my parents in the house were gone.

Suddenly exhausted, I walked out of the hallway back into the lounge, running my fingers through my hair. Along with being exhausted, I was also suddenly thirsty, but there was nothing to drink from anymore. I decided at this point it wouldn’t be so bad to drink straight from the tap, that is if the water hadn’t been taken either.

I walked to the kitchen and turned on the tap, grateful that seemingly clean water still ran from it. I put my head half in the sink and put my mouth up to the water, feeling a little physically better as the water ran down my throat. When I finished, I turned the tap back off and wiped the back of my mouth with my sleeve while turning around, ready to walk back to the lounge.

For what seemed to be the millionth time since everything had happened, I stopped stunned as I saw a piece of paper sitting on the kitchen counter. I had checked the kitchen before, there had been nothing there. There had been nothing anywhere. Where the hell could it have come from? Taking a couple more steps forward I noticed it had words written in messy handwriting on it, and a pen sitting next to it.

What is your name?

The question written on the paper seemed an odd one to me. I looked around the room, trying to see if there was any trace of someone that could have left the note there. But then again it could have been the creature. I looked out the windows, only half expecting to see something standing there. There was nothing. I looked back down at the paper and slowly picked up the pen, and considered for a while whether I should actually write something, and if I did, should I write my actual name.

A couple more seconds of thinking and I decided there didn’t seem to be too much harm in writing my name, so I wrote the full thing under the question and put the pen down again. I stood in the kitchen in silence for a minute, waiting to see if anything would happen. When it didn’t, I shrugged to myself and decided to do some useless rounds around the house.

I spent fifteen minutes just strolling around the house, checking to see if anything was hiding anywhere or if anything had changed. But it hadn’t, so I walked back to the kitchen to see if at least the paper had changed.

I was both happy and disturbed to see that it had. Next to my name there was a tick, as if it was saying I was correct with my answers, the way teachers do. Underneath my name, a new question had been written in the same messy handwriting:

How old are you?

I picked up the pen that was still next to the paper and wrote my answer. Nothing happened for the few minutes I stood in the kitchen, so I left to walk around outside for a few more minutes. When I went back into the kitchen, another tick had been drawn next my age, and another question had been written underneath.

What do you like?

I picked up the pen again and wrote, AC/DC, frogs, motorbikes, food, sleep. I was beginning to figure out the pattern on how this all worked, and left the room again for a couple more minutes. When I went back in, just as I had suspected, a tick was next to my answer, and a new question was written.

What do you dislike?

Just like the others, I answered.

Woo hoo! Another chapter. Hoped you liked it. Same messages as usual, if you have any suggestions or feedback I would love to hear it. I'm getting lonely tbh. If you have any requests for other stories for me to write I am open to hearing them, as long as its not something I'm not comfortable with writing.

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maadvillainy · 2 days

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spaceship

pairings: gary smith x gn reader summary: meeting through shared interests with a lone boy warnings: smoking, swearing, gary smith

✎ masterlist

authors note ❥ ok so not all of the lyrics are complete or in chronological order, but it's to make it make sense but um.. erm... I love spaceship! p.s. gary is prolly ooc but this kinda sorta takes place after he's released from happy volts so hes recovering. he gettin betta!!!!!!!

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

The clouds inch closer to each other, closing any view of the blue sky above. The familiar smell of rain closes in, hitting you hard. Nodding your head along with the music that plays in your ears.

Man, man, man

If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him

After I fuck the manager up then I'm gonna shorten the register up

You grin, writing then pausing. Pressing your pen to your lips you think. Writing again. Your back leaning against the oak tree behind you. The occasional old homeless man asking for a cent. It was all so nostalgic. Adjusting your earbuds you hear a sudden sound. Your head darts to the source of the rather rasp voice.

Let's go back, back to the Gap

Look at my check, wasn't no scratch

So if I stole, wasn't my fault

Yeah I stole, never got caught

They take me to the back and pat me

Askin' me about some khakis

But let some black people walk in

I bet they show off their token blac─

You rip out your earbuds, beaming at the boy. "Is that Ye?" He asks rather timidly for his appearance and posture.

He had a long scar tattered on his left brow and down to his eye. His hair cut sleek and faded towards the edges. It suited him, you thought. You didn't know the boy yet you felt like you've known him forever. Odd.

"Yes, it is." You nod shortly. It seemed a little curt but you didn't mean it. You liked talking about music. It made you feel at peace. When you snap away from your thoughts you acknowledge his awkward stance, you pat the space next to you. He slowly sits, staring at your CD player. "Wanna bud?" You hold up the right earbud, he takes it cautiously. He seemed grateful, timid but nice.

Little did you know, oh you poor soul.

"I was actually looking for my own copy, never fucking found it." He grunted. You smile at this, somehow you were completely wrong about the boy. Odd. I mean, you should've known by the mysterious scar on the left side of his face. "I found this one a year ago, lucky enough to have copped it ya know?" You don't put in your earbud yet, but he does. "How much did you sacrifice?"

─Man, I'm talkin' way past the sky

Let's go, yeah

And I didn't even try to work a job

Represent the mob

At the same time thirsty on the grind

Chi state of mind

Lost my momma, lost my mind

My life, my love that's not mine

Why you ain't signed?

Wasn't my time

Leave me alone, work for y'all

Half of it's yours, half of it's mine

Only one to ball

Never wanna to fall

His voice had a small lisp, you could hear it very faintly over the sarcastic tone he held. You're sure he didn't mean to display it, because he seemed a little too irritated to be sarcastic. "I managed to bargain for 8$." You put your bud in, involuntarily sighing.

─ Police watch me smoke my weed and count my G's

Got a lot of people countin' on me

And I'm just tryin' to find my peace

Should of finished school like my niece

Then I wouldn't finally wouldn't use my piece, blaow

Aw man, all this pressure

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

"I didn't know people here liked music." Right, you thought. People here would much rather listen to screeching butchered pigs than real music. You snicker at your own thought, remembering you had company you turn your head to him. "I ain't from here." Your voice came out rather soft for your liking.

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette. It was a habit that grew on. You stopped doing it so often but you just couldn't help it when the opportunity presented itself. "Do you mind if I blow?" You ask, considering him for a second. He didn't seem like the type of person to care; and to sum it up, he shook his head. In fact, he held his hand out. You grin. "I'm trying to quit, so don't hook me on if you're hooked." You chuckle, pulling out another cigarette for him.

"Where are you from?" His eyes averting to the cigarette then to you. "Arizona." Dear fuck.

"Why here?" His question comes abruptly. "I'm not sure." You answer. It was truthful, you had no clue why. You were sure it was something stupid though. "What's your name?" You take out your lighter, Curious George's face on the center. You hear him snicker. "What?" You twinkle.

"Cool lighter, sweets." That was silly, real silly.

"Thanks, scar." You joked back, he simply shook his head. Sparking it you hold it up to him, blocking the wind with your left hand. He does the same for you, your cheek brushing against his fingers when you lean in. It had no reason being so intimate. Anyways, you smoke in peace. Small pitter patters start to drop from the gloomy sky, the semi-dead grass before you starting to grow dewy. You both give each other a look. "I know a place."

I remember havin' to take the dollar cab

Comin' home real late at night

Standin' on my feet all damn day

Tryin' to make this thing right

And havin' one of my co-workers say "Yo you look just like

This kid I seen in the old Busta Rhymes video the other night"

Well easy come, easy go

How that sayin' goes

No more broad service, cars, and them TV shows

I all had that snatched from me

A and R's and their faculties all turn their back on me

And didn't want to hear a rap from me

So naturally actually had to face things factually

Had to be a catastrophe with the fridgest starin' back at me

'Cause nothing's there, nothing's fair

I don't want to ever go back there

So I won't be takin' no days off 'til my spaceship takes off

You sit under a fort, sitting criss crossed eating Push Ups and Scooby Snacks. He wasn't like most guys you knew, he was different from what you were used to. You liked that. You talked and giggled, rain falling slowly from the sky as the muffled voice of the raggedy tv rattled through the wooden box that you both resided in. It was calm, domestic even. Fun. "Hey I never caught your name." You mumble, looking over at the boy. "Gary." He swallowed his Scooby Snack. "Gary Smith." You grin, stealing some of his Scooby Snacks before exchanging your own name.

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I've been workin' this grave shift and I ain't made shit

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I want to fly, I want to fly

I said I want my chariot to pick me up

And take a brother for a ride

#maadvillainy📝#gary smith #gary smith x reader #kanye west #the college dropout #bully scholarship edition #bully canis canem edit

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zoe-and-quinn · 8 months

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Whumptober Day 3

Journal / Solitary Confinement / “Make it stop.”

TW: Mentions of torture, mentions of assault, panic attack

Casey was alone.

Again.

He didn’t know how long it had been this time. There was no light where he was, no sound, nothing to tell time of day or year or if time was even still relevant. The world could be dark and desolate, and Casey wouldn’t notice.

He was hungry. And thirsty. And his knees were sore. God were they sore. He dealt with far worse pain than sore knees on a daily basis, and still the throbbing cut right down to his bones.

It was because there was nothing else to think about. Casey knew that. There was nothing in this world but Casey and hunger and thirst and sore knees and the silence.

The silence pushed into his eardrums, making him wince with the ringing wrongness of it. He could have hummed or whispered to himself, but he knew that Alexei had microphones, that he would pay the consequence for spoken words in his own blood. The only words allowed in this place were apologies and pleas for mercy.

Spoken words weren't allowed, but Alexei couldn’t control his mind. Not yet, at least. He’d seen some of the others, some of the ones Alexei didn’t mind shattering on the floor like expensive china. They were afraid to live, to breathe without his permission.

Casey knew Alexei could do that to him, if he wanted. He wasn’t proud enough to believe he could win a battle so many had lost before him. But Alexei needed him whole, alive, and with enough fire to fight back, just a little.

Clients didn’t pay to torture a dead man walking.

For now, his mind was his own, and he used it freely. He bent forward a little, shifting some of the pressure from his bruised knees to his raw wrists, and started his daily journal entry.

Since he was 14, Casey had only missed 4 days in his journal; one day when his pet salamander died and he was too distraught to write, one day when he was invited to a friends cabin for the weekend and was too embarrassed to bring it along, and two days after he was mugged, left bleeding in an alleyway, and then picked up by a psycho who locked him in his basement and sold his suffering to the masses.

Of course, in the month since his… unfortunate encounter, he hadn’t had much access to paper or pens, so he’d switched his entries to mental ones. He also didn’t really know when a day had passed. He ‘wrote’ an entry whenever he felt he was about to go insane with fear, frustration, pain, or all three at once.

He wrote quite often.

March 17, 2023, he began. This was his birthday. When you didn’t know the date, he reasoned, every day could be your birthday.

My life sucks and I hate everything. What else is new? It’s been forever, just… sitting here. Waiting. Nothing to do but wait. I know… I know in my brain that there are tons of things way worse than sitting alone in a dark room for a day or two, but… I don’t know. When I’m in here, in the dark, it doesn’t even feel like a room anymore. It feels like this is the universe, and I’m alone in it. There's… nothing but me. Or everything is real but me, and I’m dead and gone and nonexistent. I know, logically, that Felix and everyone and… and Alexei… I know they’re all out there, only a few doors away, but my mind won’t fucking connect to my actual believing and feeling and- shit, I’m panick-

Breath, don’t panic, you’re not this weak, don’t-

You’re not alone, you do exist, they’re just not here right now, they’ll let you out eventually, but-

At this point, Casey stopped thinking in his journal. He had felt the panic attack coming on for a while. It always did, alone in the dark. He wasn’t sure why. He just knew he hated it.

For all the world it felt like he hadn’t seen another human in years, like he didn’t know what human was, like there had never been anything in the universe but darkness and silence.

Silence.

Breathing, hard and fast and gasping and

Sobbing, shaking and dripping and shuddering and

Pleading, desperate and whispered and shouted and screamed and

Please, please, don’t, I can’t live like th-this, make it, “stop, I-I-I please, make it stop, I c-can’t, please, please please PLEASE!”

Alexei opened the door an hour later, and Casey made his fervent apologies for whatever infraction he had committed. He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter.

He said sorry.

He said he would be good.

He said anything he had to say to exist again.

#Everyone welcome Casey to the plot!#whumptober 2023 #no.3 #solitary confinement #journal #panic attack tw #torture tw #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whumpee #whumptober #violence tw

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eyes-onthehorizon · 11 months

Text

The Old Guard Provide... Leverage

(otherwise titled Pan Finally Found The Time To Rework ‘February is a Month like Any Other’)

One:

heist [haɪst]

Word forms: plural heists

countable noun [oft noun NOUN]

A heist is a robbery, especially one in which money, jewellery, or art is stolen.

(“Is it really a heist if we’re actually avenging a crime?”

“Psht, technicalities. Heists are about derring-do, and there’s plenty of it to be done.”)

Nicoló was going out of his mind. Not so much as a whiff of a clue had presented itself and the excuses for burrowing around Whitechapel Manor were fraying at the edges. His carriage, which had so artfully broken down in the snow, had finally been repaired and Nicoló had no choice but to depart the following morning.

Andy was desperate to get into the study at any cost; in a last-ditch attempt, he’d decided to write a few letters for his beloved who was waiting to commence their belated honeymoon. All my papers had been ruined in the snow, you see, he’d shrugged self-effacingly at the butler. Might I trouble the study for a few pages?

The same butler stood sentry at the doorway. He wasn’t a distrustful man, quite the opposite: Jennings had been the one to oversee his recovery after he’d taken that nasty fall off Sir Graham’s stallion. He’d become something of a mother hen to Nicoló, and constantly hovered nearby in case a bookshelf or candlestick might decide to commit murder.

It would have been sweet, really, if Nicoló hadn’t been in the midst of intelligence-gathering against one of Britain’s most powerful men. In his own home.

Without looking up from the desk, he spoke: “Jennings, would you be so kind as to fetch me some tea and scones? This is thirsty work.”

He saw Jennings hesitate from the corner of his eye, and kept his expression still. “There is nothing to worry about, old chap. The worst that can happen in here is a paper-cut and I think even I might survive such a calamity.”

“Ha, right you are, Sir. I’ll be back in a moment.” Thank goodness he had a sense of humour.

Nicoló moved as quickly as he could, rifling through drawers and boxes, returning them to their original state with a dexterity Andy had always admired.

(“It’s freaky. You’re a freak.”

“Andy, we don’t die. We are all freaks here.”)

It wasn’t until he could hear Jennings’ footsteps returning down the hallway that he found the hidden compartment in the desk. He made a show of walking around the room, deep in thought, turning only when he was spoken to.

“Your food, Sir.” Jennings said a little breathlessly. Had he rushed? The man was definitely pinker than when he'd left. Nicoló felt a pre-emptive flash of shame at what he was about to do.

“Ah, splendid. Thank you. Do you have any more of the marmalade from breakfast? And is there any chance Cook could rustle up a sandwich with those little tomatoes? I’m positively famished.” Nicoló knew the marmalade had run out because he’d heard the cook grumbling about it when he went down for hot milk the previous evening. It seems he’d eaten through quite the supply during his stay. And cherry tomatoes, at this time of year? It was more unlikely than one would think.

Jennings’ smile had reduced to something resembling a straight line – never a scowl, the man was much too professional for that – the longer Nicoló’s requests went on. Nevertheless, he was bound to do his duty. He bowed, a little, and departed once again.

Nicoló let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. This was the worst part of masquerading as a toff: the way he was expected to treat the servants.

He took another turn around the enormous desk to inspect the hidden compartment. It had been jammed hastily shut, with the key hanging conspicuously from a hook on the wall. Nicoló turned it, but the damn thing was stuck.

I’m so close.

He wiggled the drawer.

Jennings is coming.

He tried pushing from below.

What is he hiding?

He took out his pen-knife.

I’m going to get caught.

Tried to leverage it open.

Calm. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm-

He smacked at it in frustration, and this of all things was what finally did the trick. He emptied it, papers and all, into the wastebasket alongside all his crumpled up draft letters. Not wasting a second, he slid the drawer shut, turned the key and returned it to the hook as he kicked the basket over.

Jennings entered the room, bearing a full tray of food and a second pot of tea. The guilt washed over Nicoló again as they both realised he hadn’t touched the first pot that Jennings had gone running for, but the butler’s glance at the messy floor brought him back into the moment.

“Oh my. I’m so clumsy. I do apologise Jennings – would you mind setting up my tea in the blue sitting room?”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll tidy the mess after you’ve tucked in-”

“No need, my fine fellow. Truth be told, I’d rather these letters remain for my beloved’s eyes only. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge and all that, you know? I’ll get this tidied up in a jiffy.”

Torn between the need to do as he was told and allowing a gentleman to do a servant’s work, Jennings hesitated a moment before deciding to just take the easy way out, for once. Nicoló sent up a prayer of gratitude and began piling everything back into the wastebasket.

ao3

#fic #ao3 #tog #the old guard #leverage #pan's at it again #writing multi-chapter fics without any clue how long it'll take or when i'll next update #what can i say?#i live life on the edge #if you want the next chapter please reblog to remind me bc i WILL forget

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maniculum · 1 year

Text

The College of Grotesque Arts -- Week Four

After I finished writing the material for this week, I thought to myself, “I feel like I’m writing a lot. Just how long is this?” So I checked the word count and this is over 5,000 words. That’s a whole damn college paper. I assign a 5,000-word essay each semester and my students get panicked looks in their eyes because they’ve never written anything that long. And this isn’t even an outlier — Weeks One and Three were both longer. Am I going into too much detail on these rooms, or is this a normal amount of words?

Ahem. Anyway. Enough of me worrying.

Question: are those notes below the map itself actually any use? The ones that are a list of what appears in the actual entry? (I know that the original concept was probably that all the writing should fit in that space, but I also know myself, so I never actually expected to fit all of my excessive verbiage into that space.) Should I start leaving that part off? Anyone have thoughts? Also, I wrote those bits in pen this time so I could scan it. Do the scanned versions work better than the photographed versions? Practicality vs. aesthetic? Listeners, call in.

Content below the cut.

Room 1.22: f.23v

When the PCs open the door to this room, a rather damp and annoyed hawk flies out.

This room is entirely taken up by a 10ft-deep pool, inhabited by a number of bright red & pale green minnows. Some stairs lead down to the bottom of the pool.

Observant PCs will notice that one section of the pool wall does not have any algae growing on it. This section of the wall is an illusion — anything other than water or marine animals can pass through it as though it isn’t there. PCs walking (swimming) through it will find themselves completely dry on the other side as the water is filtered out when they pass through. They will also be rather thirsty: the filter isn’t supposed to affect bodily fluids, but the wizards never quite got it working right and it gives you a pronounced feeling of dry mouth. This same effect is active on the stairs, and likewise dries out anyone who walks up them.

(The hawk, if you were wondering, flew through from the other side and has been drying its wings on the stairs for a while now, unaware that this would have been done magically had it walked rather than flown. It’s confused and angry about ending up underwater unexpectedly.)

Room 1.23: f.24r

In a complete 180 from the last page, this one has so much crap on it that just begs to be included that I made the room huge in order to justify that. (It was randomly generated to be 20x30, but there was plenty of space just south of it to expand into.) This is another high-ceilinged room where the “floor” is actually just the top of a thick layer of soil. It contains seventeen pillars spaced through the room (shown on the map), but the pillars are entirely covered in thick, woody vines. The walls appear to have trelliswork built into them, and are likewise covered in vines. The ground cover is dominated by small, fragrant white flowers that detect as very slightly magical. A pond occupies the southwest, dominated by vines and reeds.

The most obvious feature of this room is a giant pit in the northeast corner. (Appendix A wanted there to be a pit trap in that east passage, but I’ve reinterpreted it.) This appears at first glance to be a garbage pit, but it seems that all the material in it is organic — in fact, it’s a crude composting operation that is the source for much of the soil all these plants down here are growing in. You might say it’s full of fertilizer, or you might say, “oh, that’s where all the animal waste is going.” It also has a bunch of those fragrant white flowers growing in it. And yes, the pit is blocking access to the east passage. Because I think it’d be funny if the PCs decided they had to go through it, that’s why. (If you want stats, it’s about a 20ft drop to the… contents, but you might want to assign damage as if it were only a 10ft drop, due to the padding. PCs will sink in it if they try to walk across it. The pit itself is roughly square, 20x20, and is 40ft deep in total — it’s about half full of stuff.)

Stationed near the pit (well, let’s say several feet away, not like, standing on the lip daring you to push it in) is Caretaker Two. (My attempts to minimize any humanoid/intelligent hybrid creatures running around and the obvious necessity to use that piece of art basically mean this has to be a Caretaker.) Caretaker Two is a long-limbed, long-torsoed, somewhat-humanoid construct about the size of a human child. It appears to be composed of green stone and wears a rather nice cloak and gown. The effect is spoiled (enhanced?) by its penchant for a quadrupedal gait — it can also climb on the walls and ceiling with no apparent effort. Caretaker Two collects organic waste from large sections of the dungeon to bring here, and is also tasked with repairing other Caretakers — it does the waste collection and/or compost distribution at night, but visits the locations of each other Caretaker in the dungeon at dawn after they’ve finished their “shift” and returned to their places. (After seeing that Pathfinder has make whole repair constructs, I figured there should probably be a Caretaker that uses that effect to fix other Caretakers.) Like Caretaker One, it is potentially dangerous, since it was designed to be able to deal with large and possibly hostile beaſts, but will cause no harm to the PCs unless provoked or obstructed in its duties. Stats:

Caretaker Two: CR 7, XP 3200; N Small Construct; Init +6; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft, Blindsight 30ft; Perception +3

DEFENSE: AC 23, touch 17, flat-footed 17 (+1 size, +6 Dex, +6 natural); hp 60 (9d10+10) Saves Fort +3, Ref +9, Will +6; DR 5/-

OFFENSE: Speed 50 ft., climb 50 ft.; Melee 2 slams +13 (2d6+3); Spell-Like Abilities (CL 9; Save DC 13 + spell level) At Will: Cure Minor Wounds, Floating Disk, Make Whole; 3/day: Charm Monster, Deep Slumber, Telekinesis; 1/day: Hold Monster, Interposing Hand

STATISTICS: Str 16, Dex 22, Con 0, Int 0, Wis 16, Cha 1; Base Atk +9; CMB +11; CMD 27; Special Qualities Construct Traits, Blindsight 30ft

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Spider Climb (Su): Caretaker Two can effortlessly climb sheer surfaces and ceilings as the spell spider climb, with the exception that it uses its normal climb speed to do so.

If provoked, Caretaker Two attempts to subdue with charm monster and deep slumber. If those don’t work, it will escalate to hold monster, then to protecting itself with interposing hand. If this has not neutralized the threat, Caretaker Two will attempt to subdue with nonlethal blows and/or additional attempts to use charm monster and deep slumber. If reduced below half hit points, it will escalate to lethal force, backed up by use of telekinesis. It may, at this point, attempt to push opponents into the garbage pit if they are in that area. Note that while Caretaker Two can use telekinesis 3/day, odds are good that it has already expended one use before the PCs arrive — it uses it to turn the compost.

The vines that cover the pillars and walls are inhabited by brightly colored red-and-blue songbirds.

The pond has a few black herons wading in it.

Wandering around this room are a handful of blostaethes. A blostaeth is a chicken-sized reptilian critter with fine scales and a few feathers (on its tail and at the back of its head) in red, blue, and green. They are equipped with: long, serpentine necks; short, feathery tails; a pair of three-toed legs; and no other appendages. A couple of them appear to be wearing small cloaks for some reason.

Yeah, we can’t just ignore that the artist gave those things clothing, can we? Raises some questions, so I better try and answer them. Okay, um, so blostaethes are actually very long-lived. Unlike most of the creatures in here, they’re not just descended from old experiments — the ones wearing cloaks are the originals. (The others are their young. They lay eggs rarely and mature very slowly.) Januaria’s heretofore-unmentioned apprentice, whom we’ll name Dervorguilla because that’s one of the more wizardy-sounding names on the list I’m using, took a liking to these particular beaſts and made them little cloaks because it’s cute. Caretaker Two was instructed to keep the little cloaks in good repair, untangle them when necessary, retrieve them if lost, and so forth. Absent instructions to the contrary, it’s still doing that. It’s also equipped with cure minor wounds to keep them in good health, which is how these creatures have survived for centuries without incident. That’s all a bit whimsical, but the artist forced my hand by giving these creatures accessories.

Anyway, the blostaeth is a friendly and docile creature. (The PC’s can’t take one; the Caretaker will stop them.) Its only unusual characteristic beyond its appearance and lifespan is a sort of breath weapon — once per day, it can breathe out a spray of seeds. These are the seeds of those fragrant white flowers all over the room. The flowers have two purposes: one, they mask the smell of the garbage pit; two, they magically enhance the properties of the compost, which is why the “just throw everything in a pit and hope for the best” approach is working so well. They shouldn’t be a threat, but here are some stats in case it’s needed:

Blostaeth: CR 1, XP 400; N Diminutive Magical Beast; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft; Perception +5

DEFENSE: AC 18, touch 17, flat-footed 15 (+4 size, +3 Dex, +1 natural); hp 14 (2d10+3); Saves Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +0; Immunities Aging, Disease

OFFENSE: Speed 10 ft.; Melee bite +3 (1d2-3); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Breath Weapon

STATISTICS: Str 4, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 4, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB -5; CMD 8; Feats Toughness; Skills Perception +5; Special Qualities Magical Beast Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Breath Weapon (Su): A Blostaeth can exhale a 10ft. conical spray of seeds as a breath weapon. This attack causes 1d4 damage and allows a DC 11 reflex save for half damage. A Blostaeth can use its breath weapon once every day.

If excessively threatened, they bite and may use their breath weapon. A PC hit by the breath weapon may, in 3d4 days, notice that small white flowers are sprouting from their skin; the seeds can get embedded and grow in flesh. Being parasitized by flowers is not exactly healthy (1 Con damage per week), but isn’t hugely threatening either — the flowers are not difficult to find and pull out. Pulling them out stings a bit but does no appreciable damage.

Searching the room may reveal a huge golden trumpet stashed behind the trellises on the west wall, half-buried in the dirt and hidden by vines unless you look carefully. Right now it’s full of dirt, plant matter, and possibly bird poop. You should clean it up if you want to use it. Blowing this trumpet (which is difficult and might require a second person to help hold it up for you, as it’s almost ten feet long) will signal any Caretakers on this level of the dungeon to assemble in front of the trumpet-blower. (It will also make an extremely loud and not particularly melodious noise.) Upon arriving in front of the trumpet-blower, they will wait patiently for ten minutes. The idea is that you can summon them to give instructions; however, since none of the PCs are authorized to give those instructions, they just wait silently and then go back to what they were doing. If used in combat with the Caretakers, it will make them stop what they’re doing, but if they’re subsequently attacked, they’ll go back to defending themselves as before. If used outside the dungeon, it has a chance of having the same effect on any mindless constructs in a one-mile radius. (GM’s choice whether to assign a percentage chance or give the constructs some kind of save.) It cannot be used inconspicuously.

If any PC searches the compost pit (because you know someone’s going to) they’ll find, in addition to animal waste and plant matter, remains of various creatures from elsewhere in the dungeon. The Caretakers aren’t hugely consistent about bringing corpses to the pit — as evidenced by the bones elsewhere in the dungeon — but they do so often enough that it keeps there from being bones just knee-deep all over the place. This includes the remains of a few previous explorers, since at this point it would be weird if it didn’t. Let’s say four of them: William (fighter), Alice (bard), Elizabeth (paladin), and John (necromancer). (Gotta use up the normal names on this list, you know?) So if the PCs really want to play “archaeologist in the midden”, they can find those remains and any possessions those adventurers had when they died. Well, I say “any” possessions — anything metal would have been scavenged by Caretaker One, and the compost pit would have decomposed anything organic. So, really, “any non-metal possessions that are either made of stone or magically preserved in some way.” Again, best to randomly generate said possessions, I think — if it’s relevant, each of these past explorers is the PCs’ level +/- 1d4.

Any PC who jumps in the compost pit should have to save against disease. I don’t know which disease — GM’s choice. It’s not as bad as it could be, because, you know, it’s mostly just compost, but there’s still waste and carcasses that haven’t properly decomposed here.

Room 1.24: f.24v

The walls, floor, and ceiling of this large, oddly-shaped room are patterned with rust-stained holes. Examination will reveal that there used to be a number of large cages built into this room — someone has cleared the remnants out. (It was Caretaker One.) There are also remnants of glass enclosures that have shattered for one reason or another — watch your feet. In the south part of the room are two surviving enclosures.

Around the edges of the room runs a mezzanine, with stairs up to it on the east wall. On the mezzanine is another counter with cabinets and a shelf like the ones in Room 1.17 and Room 1.20. Unlike those, this has clearly already been ransacked — the only things left are broken glass vessels. The rest of the mezzanine is cluttered with broken bits of furniture. Three mostly-intact stone tables remain on the western portion. The eight pillars holding up the mezzanine extend all the way to the ceiling.

Back down on the ground, the surviving enclosure by the west wall is a glass terrarium with one side broken. It contains a miniature habitat, complete with miniature live trees, for a herd of miniature deer. With the side broken, the deer have escaped and can be found wandering over the rest of the room. (Not on the mezzanine, though, as they’re too small to get up the stairs.)

The surviving enclosure by the east wall is also glass, but fully intact. (The top is open, but it seems like it’s supposed to be.) It contains layers of dirt and plant matter, and seems to be dotted with hundreds of very small plant sprouts. These sprouts are the tails of biltwicks, strange little bluish worms with a plant-based tail and an odd, reddish, beaked head. I was going to make them harmless, but honestly I have this nagging feeling that this is becoming more of a pleasant tour than a dungeon crawl, so they probably need to be able to mess you up. Hm. They’re venomous.

In most respects, as far as game statistics are concerned, a biltwick is just a very strange-looking earthworm. (To my knowledge, there are no stats for earthworms, because why would you need them, so likewise there aren’t stats here.) There are two exceptions. First, like a lot of the other plant-creatures in this dungeon, any effect that wouldn’t work on a plant only has a 50% chance of working on a biltwick. they’re Part Plant, as codified in Room 1.26. Second, as mentioned, they’re venomous. If a PC sticks their hand in the enclosure or otherwise starts messing with them, they’ll bite.

Biltwick Venom: Injury; Fort Save DC 15; Onset 10 minutes; Frequency 1/minute for 10 minutes; Effect 1d2 Str; Secondary effect unconsciousness; Cure 2 consecutive saves.

Anyone under the effect of biltwick venom will spend 20 minutes unconscious for every point of Str damage they took. This does not count as a night’s rest, but if someone with a low Con gets bitten, the rest of the party may as well drag them off to a space less full of tiny deer and make camp. On the plus side, the sufferer experiences pleasant dreams. (Yes, the original intent was to make a naturally-produced tranquilizer for the beaſts.)

Room 1.25: f.25r

There are bones in the corners of this otherwise unremarkable room.

Also, there’s a lion in here. It must be kept pretty well fed to keep it from eating all those tiny deer next door. There may be some small antlers scattered on the floor from deer that wander into its lair though. Watch out; darn things are like caltrops. (Treat them as a terrain hazard if combat starts.) Caretaker Two probably intervenes if it tries to enter Room 1.23. Well fed or not, you probably want to be careful not to make any sudden move.

Room 1.26: f.25v

The north side of this room is taken up by a small artificial pond.

Growing in the pond are donkey reeds. (I had to do something with this illustration and rather than having another worm-like creature that’s kind of a plant, I thought maybe we should have a plant that’s kind of a creature.) They poke a few feet out of the water and are topped with small donkey heads. As could likely be guessed by the pink stalks and blue leaves, they’re not very effective photosynthesizers — they need to be fed by the Caretakers. (They’re herbivores; create food & water just conjures up heaps of plant matter for them) Donkey reeds are not hugely mobile, but the stalks are flexible and the heads might bite.

The pond also contains some more geese.

In the southwest corner, someone has crudely carved “don’t” into a portion of the wall. (A warning left by a previous explorer, not part of the original construction.) Examination will reveal that this section of wall is actually a hidden door. The door will open if anyone in the room casts an arcane spell; on the other side is a storage closet.

In the storage closet are a series of shelves that have some sort of magical effect surrounding them. Investigation will reveal that this is a stasis effect like the one in Room 1.5, keeping the contents of the shelves frozen in time. Many of the shelves are empty, but four contain a series of small ceramic apothecary jars. These jars are labeled and sorted, but the labels are just numbers someone has painted on, with no context provided. Each shelf contains 2d12 jars; all the jars on each shelf have the same number. (Note: the numbers have no meaning other than “this is Substance Number X I’ve made”. I’m numbering them 2, 35, 48, and 96 because those are the numbers I got by rolling a d100 four times. If you want to renumber or give them other meanings, that’s fine and shouldn’t cause problems.)

The stasis system in this storage closet is not, like the one in Room 1.5, part of a more complex mechanism. All it does is keep the shelves in stasis, and it’s meant to be convenient, so it can be turned off pretty easily. Each shelf has a rune carved on it — the same rune on each one. If an arcane spellcaster of any kind touches the rune, the stasis effect will drop until the rune is touched again. Opening a jar will reveal that they are filled with strange, foul-smelling pastes, very much like one might expect from an apothecary jar. Direct skin-to-skin contact with the paste provokes a Fortitude save (DC 15) against that paste’s effects, which will be outlined below.

Each substance in the jars is meant to provoke physical changes upon a living creature. (If one of your characters is undead or a construct or something, they’re immune.) The extent of the change depends on how much of the paste you apply. In the entries below, “minor exposure” indicates something like poking it with the tip of your finger or otherwise cautiously interacting with it, “moderate exposure” indicates either smearing some on yourself or ingesting any amount, and “major exposure” indicates topically applying the entire jar. Minor exposure takes three days to run its course; moderate exposure takes six; major exposure takes ten. If the PC fights off the effect before it naturally runs its course, you should use those timespans to decide what permanent results they did get.

The effect acts pretty much like a magical disease, and causes Constitution damage because having magic mess with your biology like this is not a pleasant or healthy experience. (Save DC 15; Onset 1d4 days; Frequency 1/day; Effect variable Con damage; Cure 2 consecutive saves.) Any changes are permanent, even after the “disease” runs its course and the Con damage stops. It is possible to reverse them with magic (remove disease should probably do it, but feel free to make your own calls about how easy or difficult this should be to heal.) PCs may choose to voluntarily fail their saves if they think the changes are neat enough to be worth the Con damage.

The “disease” shouldn’t be contagious, but as previous rooms within this dungeon have indicated, one of these things has accidentally mutated into a transmissible form at least once before. Specifics below this image of someone who has apparently been affected by all of them and doesn’t look happy about it.

Substance #2

Minor exposure: Whatever part of you came into contact with the substance begins slowly converting to plant-like material. If the effect is allowed to run its course, that body part will start sprouting leaves. You can technically photosynthesize, but not enough to make a noticeable difference in your food consumption.

Moderate exposure: As above, but you grow a few small vines (earthworm-sized) from the spot rather than just leaves, and you can photosynthesize sufficiently to reduce your required food consumption by ¼ if you keep your new floral accessory exposed to daylight for at least 8 hours a day. (If you ingested the substance instead of applying it topically, the vines appear at random locations spread over your body.)

Major exposure: As above, but you grow a single large vine as big around as your arm and twice as long, with broad, spreading leaves. It’s prehensile and fully under your control. Your food requirements are reduced by ½ with sufficient exposure to daylight. You are Part Plant, which is something I’m going to go ahead and codify since I keep using it… and I’ll make it a little more in-depth than “you have plant immunities half the time”. Consider this retroactive:

Part Plant can be applied to any living creature, excluding outsiders and… well, plants. Anything that is Part Plant has a flat 50% chance of ignoring any paralysis, poison, or stun effects. They gain +5 to any save against mind-affecting effects and sleep effects on account of their brain working a little different now. Sneak attacks on something that is Part Plant have a 10% failure chance; the organs aren’t all where they’re supposed to be. They can photosynthesize so long as their leaves are exposed to sun during the daylight hours; this cuts their food requirement in half. Their sleep requirements are also halved. Any magical effects that target plants (e.g. control plants) have a 50% chance of working on them; any effect that does damage to plants does half damage to them. To any spell or effect that checks a creature’s type, they count as a plant in addition to their original creature type.

Substance #35

Minor exposure: You develop a small humanoid face on the part of your body that was exposed. It has limited internal components (sinuses, throat, &c. are not really present), and can’t move.

Moderate exposure: You develop a fully functional humanoid face on the part of your body that was exposed (or a random part if you ingested it). The face can be up to a foot across, depending on how much of the substance you applied and where you applied it. It has internal components and seems to be hooked into your own respiratory system. It can move, and you have limited control over it. In general, this is a less-inconvenient version of Bonus Face Syndrome (which is a mutated version of this effect), in that the face is less prone to babble nonsense and you can exercise control over it. (It does not come with the same deleterious mental effects.) Trying to control the face should be modeled by a Charisma check (DC 13).

Major exposure: You develop a complete second head at the location where the substance was applied. (It may or may not have a neck, depending on location and the vagaries of magical effects.) The second head has its own mind, will, and mental stats. It has adult intelligence as well as fragments of your memory and personality. It shares control of your body; if the two of you disagree on what actions to take, make opposed Charisma checks to decide who has control.

Substance #48

Minor exposure: You develop fine blue scales over 10% of your body, radiating out from the point at which you came into contact with the substance. Wherever scales develop, your hair falls out.

Moderate exposure: As above, but 50% of your body. If you ingested the substance, you get patches of scales at random locations. You receive a +1 natural armor bonus.

Major exposure: As above, but 100% of your body. You receive a +2 natural armor bonus.

Substance #96

Minor exposure: You develop a single white-rimmed, spiracle-like opening at the part of your body where you came into contact with the substance. You can breathe through it.

Moderate exposure: As above, but you develop several of these openings spread throughout your body, with associated small gill-like structures. You can use them to breathe underwater for a limited period; they aren’t sufficiently numerous or well-developed to provide enough oxygen to function without coming up for air. Functionally, you can now hold your breath underwater for a number of minutes equal to five times your Constitution score.

Major exposure: You have dozens of these spiracle-like openings all over your body and your respiratory system has been entirely reworked. You are functionally amphibious.

Room 1.27: f.26r

This room contains substantially more rotten wood than any of the others you’ve come across. It might be intentional, since that wood seems to be inhabited by large worms of some sort.

Hunting those worms are a pair of harcats. These creatures are about the size of a housecat, and have a mixture of feline and rodential features. They are bipedal, their only limbs being a pair of powerful rabbit-like legs. Harcats move in a hunched-over manner, interacting with the world either through their prehensile tails or by biting. Appendix A wants there to be a monster in this room, so I’ve decided harcats are aggressive. I’m not saying there’s no way your PCs can make one into a pet, just that it’ll be difficult.

Harcat: CR 2, XP 600; N Tiny Animal; Init +3; Senses Low-Light Vision, Scent; Perception +0

DEFENSE: AC 15, touch 15, flat-footed 12 (+2 size, +3 Dex); hp 14 (3d8+0); Saves Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +1

OFFENSE: Speed 25 ft.; Melee bite +4 (1d6-1 plus disease); Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 2-1/2 ft.; Special Attacks Leap, Disease

STATISTICS: Str 8, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 10, Cha 10; Base Atk +2; CMB -1; CMD 12; Feats Mobility, Weapon Focus (bite); Skills Acrobatics +9 Special Qualities Animal Traits

SPECIAL ABILITIES:

Leap (Ex): As a move action, a Harcat can jump up to ten feet in any direction, including straight up. This does not provoke an attack of opportunity.

Disease (Ex): A Harcat’s needle-like teeth are prone to communicating disease. Pick any disease you’d like to throw at your PCs; if you don’t want to choose, filth fever is a sensible fallback.

Room 1.28: f.26v

Appendix A wanted me to put something fairly goofy here, and I expected to veto it, but this page doesn’t have a lot for me to work with, so we’re rolling with it.

The entrance to this room is a large set of iron double doors with ring-shaped door-knockers. (Don’t roll on the Doors Table for this one; it’s intact.) When the PCs open the doors, flip a coin or otherwise roll a 50% chance.

On heads (or the first half of your 50% roll), the other side of the doors is an empty 20x30 room. If the PCs close the doors behind them, there is a rumbling noise and a sensation of movement — this room is actually a sort of freight elevator, and it’s taking them down to Level Two. (What’s on the other side of the door on that level? Tell you in a month or so.) The elevator takes half an hour to automatically reset; until that point, it can’t be made to move again. After half an hour has passed, opening and closing the doors will make it bring them back to Level One.

On tails (or the other option in whatever mechanism you’re using), the doors open onto a sheer drop into a large space with rough-hewn walls. The top of the elevator is 50 feet below them. The elevator doesn’t take up the whole space — there’s a good ten feet on each side, excluding the side with the door — and a number of birds are nesting on ledges around the edges of the space. This elevator shaft also seems to extend some 20 feet upwards, where a large pulley of some kind hangs from the ceiling, with cables reaching down to the elevator.

If the elevator isn’t present (i.e., if you got tails on that coin), it can be summoned by using the knockers on the doors.

And there’s Week Four done. Hey, if you’re reading this, like… let me know?

#college of grotesque arts #dungeon23 #dungeons and dragons #d&d #dnd #pathfinder #illuminated manuscript #manuscript #marginalia #medieval #medieval creatures #medieval art

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