#under the double vulture

[storiesforallfandoms]

too sweet ~ joel miller;the last of us

word count: 3128

request?: no

description: in which his friend's daughter comes on to him and he tries to convince her that they can't be together...tries

pairing: dbf!joel miller x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is early 20s, joel is 36), use of y/n, pre-outbreak/no outbreak, joel did not know the reader before she was 18 because that would be icky

based on this song (which joel miller now owns sorry hozier)

masterlist (one, two, three)

The barbeque was already in full swing as Joel pulled up with Tommy and Sarah. It was a small party his buddy from work, George, was throwing for the start of summer. Everyone was invited, plus significant others and kids. George's house and backyard was huge with a pool, so everyone had happily accepted the invitation.

George and the other guys from work were stood around the barbeque. Tommy went to join them right away. Joel looked down at Sarah. "Go play with the kids."

Sarah looked over at "the kids", which were mainly kids between 2 and 6 years old. There were maybe two other preteens, but they didn't seem to be as social as the younger kids. Sarah looked back at Joel with a skeptical look on her face. Joel nudged her forward before going to join the other men.

"Hey, there he is!" George said. "Glad you made it, Joel."

"Yeah, thanks for the invite," Joel said.

George offered him a beer. "I was just telling the others that my daughter got home early today to surprise Mary and I."

"You're always talking about your daughter, but none of us have ever met her," Tommy noted.

"Oh, that's on purpose with you, Tommy. I wouldn't let you within ten feet of her." The group laughed as Tommy put his hands up in mock surrender. "She's been away for college. She doesn't get to visit a lot besides the summers. We thought she wouldn't be home for another few weeks, but she wanted to surprise us."

George served the first round of burgers to the kids first, then to whoever else wanted whatever was left. Joel was able to snatch one burger before the rest were claimed. He took his plate over to the table where George and his wife had condiments set out. As he was putting ketchup on his burger, a woman stepped up beside him. He glanced at her briefly, and had to stop himself from doing a double take. He had never seen her before, but she was beautiful. He didn't want to stare like a creep, but he did take another quick moment to appreciate her beauty.

She reached for the bottle of ketchup Joel had just put down. That's when Joel noticed she had two burgers on her plate.

"You got lucky there," he said, nodding to her plate.

She looked between her plate and his before chuckling. "You have to act fast. These people are vultures when they smell fresh barbequed meat."

Joel chuckled as well. He picked up his plate and his beer to move along, when two kids suddenly came barreling towards the table. One of them ran into the woman, causing her to stumble into Joel and knock his beer over the front of his shirt. The two kids gasped, then giggled in the unserious way young kids do, before grabbing ketchup and mustard, and running off again.

"Shit, I am so sorry," the woman said.

"S'all right, wasn't your fault," Joel assured her.

She grabbed a handful of napkins and started to dab Joel's shirt. She scrunched up her nose as she tries to get the beer out of his shirt. It was the cutest look Joel had ever seen.

"You're going to reek of beer," she said.

"Maybe you can dump my burger on me and make smell like grease instead."

She glared at him, but there was a playful look in her eyes.

Joel's breath hitched as she slipped her hand under his shirt and pressed the napkin against her hand through the shirt. If she touched his chest, she would feel how quickly his heart was beating. She looked up from the beer spill into Joel's eyes. Her hand paused its movements as they held eye contact.

"What's going on over here?"

She pulled her hand from under Joel's shirt and discarded the wet napkin onto the table next to them as George walked up. "Two of the kids ran into us and I spilled beer over...um..."

Joel realized they hadn't been formally introduced yet. "Joel."

"I spilled beer over Joel's shirt. I'm trying to soak it up as much as I can."

"You're better off getting another shirt," George said. "Even if you dry off, it'll have that beer smell all day. Run inside and grab a t-shirt from my room, honey."

The woman took off towards George's house. It took Joel a moment to realize what George had said. "Wait, is that...?"

George chuckled and nodded. "What a way for you to meet my daughter, huh?"

It may have been dramatic to say, but for a moment, it felt like everything crashed down around Joel. He almost felt wrong for having any sort of attraction towards her knowing now that she was George's daughter. He knew she wasn't terribly young; she'd be in her early 20s going by what he knew from George. But, that was still an almost 20 year age difference, and Joel was friends with her dad. It wouldn't be right for him to pursue her, no matter how much he wanted to.

She came back with a black t-shirt and offered it to Joel. As he took it, she said, "My name is (Y/N), by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Joel said.

He took the shirt and went into the house to change. When he came back out, George had gotten him another beer and more food. If he had seen anything between Joel and (Y/N), he wasn't letting on.

For the rest of the evening, Joel made sure to avoid (Y/N). He could see her looking at him every so often. She would try and approach him or talk to him, but he would find a reason to walk away. After a few hours, when he was sure Tommy wouldn't complain about wanting to stay, Joel decided it was time to go. He thanked George for having them over and rounded up Sarah and Tommy to go. As they walked to the truck, Tommy said, "You have a thing for the daughter, huh?"

"Big thing," Sarah agreed.

Joel ignored them both and got into the truck.

It was hard to forget about (Y/N). Joel thought that once he had left, he'd be able to put (Y/N) out of his mind. He wouldn't have to see her again, so all the thoughts he had about her should've stayed at the party. That's how he thought it would go, anyways, but things rarely ever go as planned. Instead, Joel found his thoughts were almost constantly consumed by (Y/N). Especially when he was alone at night, with nothing to distract himself. The image of her would come to him as he was laying in bed, trying to sleep. He knew it should've felt wrong, but his want for her outweighed the knowing that he shouldn't want her.

The next time Joel saw (Y/N) was during work. He and the guys were taking a break from their latest project when a car pulled up to the site. Joel had glanced over for a second as the door opened and someone got out, just to see who it was. He looked away, but then his brain registered who it was and his head quickly swung back around to look at her.

(Y/N) was in a pair of the shortest shorts Joel had ever seen, and was wearing a tank top. There was nothing inherently wrong with the way she was dressed. It was a hot day out after all. But seeing her like that made Joel's inappropriate thoughts run wild, which was not a good thing considering George was sat just a few feet from him.

"Hey sweetheart!" George called. "What are you doin'?"

"Mom told me to bring you your lunch," (Y/N) responded as she approached the group. She held out a paper bag to her dad. "You left it on the counter."

"God bless that woman," George said as he took the bag. "I was already an hour into work before I realized I had left it home. I thought I'd have to run down the street and get a sandwich or something."

"You know mom wouldn't have let you do that," (Y/N) said, giving her dad a bright smile that managed to distract Joel from the way she was dressed.

(Y/N) stuck around for the rest of their break as everyone started asking her questions. Joel tried to keep his focus on his own food, but it was nearly impossible not to look at her. It was like she was a magnet trying to draw him in.

When the rest of the guys got up to go, Joel lingered back. He shouldn't, but the way (Y/N) was looking at him told her that she wasn't about to let him leave so easily anyways.

"We have some unfinished business," she told him.

"Do we?" Joel asked. "Last I checked, there was nothing else to happen after our last encounter."

"You were ignoring me that whole party," (Y/N) said. "After we seemed to have a pretty good connection after I bumped you. I think I deserve to know why you suddenly changed your mind."

"You got that idea from a short interaction?"

"I saw the way you looked at me, Joel. I'm not an idiot."

Joel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, (Y/N), you know why I changed my mind. You're a smart girl, I'm sure you figured it out on your own."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I had a feeling. I was just hoping I was wrong."

"I do think you are a beautiful woman, but nothing can happen between us. You're too young - "

"I am an adult!" she argued.

"You are a young adult. I still have at least 16 years on you. I have a daughter, a career. You're still young and in college trying to make something for yourself. Not to mention, your dad is a good friend of mine. He would kill me if he found out anything was happening between us."

(Y/N) broke their eye contact to look down at the ground. Her mood had completely changed, and Joel could see it in her face. He felt bad to have to reject her, but it was the right thing to do. He couldn't have her throwing herself at him when they both knew it wasn't right. She would be better off finding someone her own age while at school - a thought that made Joel's heart ache, but he knew it was better for her.

"It was nice to meet you, Joel," she said before turning to walk away.

Joel watched her go back to the car. He could see the dejected look on her face as she got into the driver's side. He shook his head, trying not to linger too much on how rejecting her made him feel, before turning to go back to work.

~~~~~~

About a week later, George had invited Joel and Sarah over for dinner. It wasn't unusual for him to do so. He said that Mary enjoyed having more people to cook for, especially when (Y/N) was gone. And usually, Joel accepted in a heartbeat. He and Sarah loved Mary's cooking. Actually, Sarah often said that she preferred it to Joel's.

But this time when George asked, Joel hesitated. He came up with some excuse that he and Sarah had other plans. When he hung up, Sarah was stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"We don't have plans," she said.

"No, we don't," Joel said with a defeated sigh. There was no arguing or lying to Sarah.

"Then why did you say we did?"

"I just don't feel up to going to George's tonight."

"You can't avoid going there all summer just because you have a thing for (Y/N). He'll start to get suspicious eventually."

Joel glared at his daughter. "You know entirely too much for a 14 year old."

"I'm very perceptive. Call George back and tell him we're coming, or I will."

And that's how Joel found himself following Sarah to George and Mary's front door. Sarah turned the knob and let them in, another usual. There was no need for knocking when they were already so familiar with the place. Mary was the first to greet them, pulling Sarah into a hug and commenting about how much she's grown. She hugged Joel as well and told him that George was in the living room.

George and Joel sat on the couch watching TV while Sarah sat on the floor in front of them.

"Do you need any help?" Sarah asked Mary.

"Oh, thank you honey, but I'll be alright," Mary responded. "I have my own girl here to help me tonight."

Joel tensed for a moment at the mention of (Y/N), but tried to calm himself down so that George wouldn't notice.

After about 20 minutes, (Y/N) appeared in the living room to tell them that dinner was ready. Joel couldn't help himself from looking at her. She was wearing a floral summer dress that was down to her knees and had spaghetti straps, and her hair was pulled back into a braid. She looked absolutely stunning. And now he was mentally cursing himself for giving into Sarah.

They sat around the table, with George and Mary at the heads, Joel on one side by himself, and Sarah and (Y/N) sat next to each other. Luckily for him, Sarah spearheaded most of the conversations. If Mary wasn't asking Sarah how things were going with her, Sarah was asking (Y/N) about herself. The two got along so well that Joel couldn't help but picture how Sarah would be if (Y/N) was around all the time.

Between dinner and dessert, Joel excused himself to go to the bathroom. As he came out a few minutes later, he found (Y/N) stood on the other side of the door.

"Sorry," she said, backing up to give him some space. "I wasn't coming to ambush you again, I promise. I actually have to use the bathroom."

"It's okay," Joel said.

But neither of them made a move. They just stood there on opposite sides of the hallway, looking at one another.

"Sarah's nice," (Y/N) finally said, breaking the silence. "She seems like a great kid."

"She is," Joel said. "She seems to like you, too."

"I like her, too."

Silence fell over them again. (Y/N) was avoiding eye contact. Joel longed to reach out for her and tilt her head back so he could look into those beautiful eyes. Keeping his hands to his side was starting to become a difficult task.

"I'm sorry about that day at your work," (Y/N) said, being the one to break the silence again. "I went with the intention of trying to get your attention, and it really wasn't fair of me. I understand why you don't want to be with me, and it was foolish of me to think there was a possibility of anything happening between us."

"You weren't foolish," Joel told her.

She let out a sound that was half laugh, half scoff. "No, I was. I knew from the moment we met that there was no way anything would happen between us. I just really hoped that maybe my assumption in that was wrong and you wanted me enough to look past my age. I mean, I'm not a kid by any means, but I do understand how our age gap would make you feel uncomfortable."

Joel was moving before his mind could process what he was doing. (Y/N) was mid sentence as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. It had been what he was thinking of for so long that he had officially lost the battle of restraint with his own body. And the kiss was everything he could've expected it to be. Her lips were so soft, her body fit perfectly against his. He wanted to let his hands wander, to travel up the hem of her dress and see how far she would let him go, but that was definitely not something that could happen at this time.

When they broke away, (Y/N) was looking at him in awe.

"You're not foolish," he repeated.

"I might be, because I want to do that again."

He chuckled. "Yeah, me too. But we probably shouldn't be gone for much longer or else someone may come looking for us."

"You're right." Reluctantly, (Y/N) pulled out of Joel's arms. He already felt wrong not holding her. "Are you sure about...what we just did? You're not regretting it, are you?"

"I may regret it later, but right now I don't," he said. "I just want you to realize what you're getting into if we do let this happen between us. For one, your parents aren't going to be happy. When the summer ends, you'll be going back to your college campus full of guys who are actually around your age."

(Y/N) scoffed. "You're giving 20 year old guys way more credit than they deserve. Most of them act as if they were mentally stunted in their freshman year of high school and likely won't mature until they hit their 30s."

"Okay, fair point," Joel chuckled. "But you also realize you're getting into something with an older man who has a daughter, right? I'm not saying that if things get serious between us that you have to become a mother figure to Sarah, but dating someone with a kid is different."

"I like Sarah, Joel. I would love to do things with you and with her if she's comfortable about it. Genuinely, I'm seeing no downsides here."

Joel smiled and he couldn't stop himself from quickly kissing (Y/N) again.

"Go back to the dining room before they start to wonder where we are," she told him. "I was being honest when I said I had to use the bathroom."

Joel chuckled and kissed the top of her head before letting her go into the bathroom. When he came back to the table, Mary was putting the dessert on the table. The three looked up at him as he slid back into his seat.

"Everything alright?" George asked. "You were gone for a while."

"Oh yeah, everything's fine," Joel assured him. "Just got a bit...held up in the bathroom. Poor (Y/N) had to wait forever for me to come out."

Across the table, Sarah was giving Joel a knowing look, and started to smile.

[dreamerdeity]

𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐀'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐏𝐒

a/n: Really happy to be back on tumblr! College apps have been kicking my ass but it's getting better. Don't be shy to request a matchup, a fic, or a wip for Gaza! I'm also very sorry @tinysoulmentality for not including moodboards I had no time 😭

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ word count: 2k

Keira's Fundraising Event

███▒▒▒▒▒▒ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . @tinysoulmentality 's character matchup

Hi! Id like to request a matchup for jjk, bllk and aot. Im mexican and being connected to my culture is very important to me. I love reading dc comics and watching old slasher/horror movies. My favorite color is purple and my favorite holiday/time of year of Halloween. When it comes to relationships, the most important thing to me is being with someone that I know i can be myself with and that I dont have to worry about their loyalty towards me. Here are my donations and pls lmk if theres any other info you need !!!💜💜

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐌𝐀

Ino is an interesting little guy. He’s cute, but to say he has game would be like saying that cats can fly (handsome loser :3). When he first met you, he had to do a little double take because hold on a minute. Who’s that pretty lady? He casually walks up to you and blurts out a “You’re not from around here, are you?” ft. nervous voice crack that he manages to play off somehow. The question definitely elicits a few mental eye rolls from you. Typical male-tries-to-hit-on-foreign-girl one-liner, but he makes it… work? Maybe it’s the nervous flush on his cheeks, or the hand that sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, or the bright smile he musters up to mask the nerves. 

I like to think that Ino is a very cosmopolitan person. It’s not really that he’s traveled all around the world, but more so that he has varied likes and interests spanning many different cultures. He likes to listen to old-school hip-hop and reggaeton. He’s into Italian and Turkish dramas. He sleeps well at night knowing there’s an Indian restaurant and another Mexican one down the block that can curb his cravings for butter chicken and quesadillas. 

So, it’s no surprise that he’s quick to grab a throw pillow and get comfortable on the couch whenever you talk about your Mexican heritage. He doesn’t know much about Mexico apart from the fact that the food goes extremely hard, so he’s always enthusiastic to learn more about the other aspects that characterize your country and its people. 

He also tries to learn some Spanish to “surprise” you but then it’s literally just a “¡Buenos días!” enunciated really badly. There’s a proud smile on his face every time he greets you good morning in your mother tongue though, and it’s very endearing, to say the least. 

To add onto his culture vulture, cosmopolitan vibes, I think he’s also really into movies. The type to just drop a niche movie reference every two seconds and frown deeply when no one gets it. 

Watching horror movies with him is interesting because for some reason he thinks that abruptly grabbing your shoulders mid-movie and growling menacingly would jump-scare you into oblivion, but you’re used to the genre so all it does is make you eye him narrowingly, unimpressed, ready to tell him off for interrupting a very crucial plot development. 

For whatever reason, Ino gives me major horror-enjoyer vibes. He likes analog horror and you’re lucky Halloween is your favorite time of year because it’s his too! Watching The Prowler (i just really like this movie lol) under the blankets with warm, freshly-made popcorn and a pretty lady in his arms? Yeah, count him in. 

One last thing, sorry to be the one to say this, but Ino is definitely the “can you draw me” person whenever he sees your sketchbook or art in general. It’s all in good nature, and he wouldn’t mind it if you say no, but if you do draw or paint him, let’s just say that that drawing will be in his wallet for the rest of his life. Sometimes he’d just randomly pull it out when someone brings you up and proudly hold it up to his company like “Uhuh, my girl drew this. Yup.” 

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐇𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐀

I think that, unlike Ino, Chigiri used to be less “out there” in the world in his youth and kept more to himself in terms of being an experiencer of cultural diffusion; It was how he was brought up. But after going pro and meeting many people, traveling to many different places etc, he’s been exposed to the world on a greater scale. That’s how he finds himself meeting you one day at a party. He was charming. Need I say more tbh? That hair, that gentlemanliness, that whole aura surrounding him is hard to resist. He knew just how to sweet-talk but actually meant every word he said. 

Chigiri is one wealthy man, let’s be honest. Pro footballer?  Mbappe in another font? Yeah. I think he genuinely enjoys spoiling and lavishing you with gifts if that’s your thing. 

He loves hearing you talk about your heritage and if you don’t live in Mexico, I feel like if you were to even remotely express that you’re kind of missing your country he’d immediately be like, “Then let’s book a 2 week stay and you can show me all those things you were telling me about.” No biggie. 

Would also rent out the entirety of Playa Sisal in advance because you mentioned (once. 1 [one] time. ) that you were looking forward to taking a dip come the vacation. 

I think that there’s this stigma surrounding footballers and how they’re a bunch of players who sleep around but don’t commit. While that may have some merit, Chigiri is different. Like, have you seen him? Not to mention that he has a sister. 

I feel like he values loyalty and genuine companionship as much as you do, and should you ever feel yourself questioning where you stand within his life, or whether he’s trustworthy, he would be so quick to reassure you and make you feel heard, basically quelling the doubts before they even surface. (Communicative king). 

On the note of communicative king, he’s very good at praise and voicing his appreciation. The sort to genuinely encourage your creative hobbies and praise you for any work you create. He would literally not mind building a home art studio for you to promote your love for art and writing. Like, “Oh, I saw you painting the other day and you didn’t look very comfortable at your desk. Thought I’d make you a little art corner,” he’d say as he sheepishly shows you the “art corner” in question which looks more like a state of the art professional studio. 

I think Chigiri himself is a very artistic person beneath the surface. He just gives off that vibe quite a bit. Picnics where you guys sit at the park and paint the scenery together? So him. 

Would post your art on social media (if you consent ofc!) to his 5 million+ followers and bring you business if you ever decide to open commissions. 

In terms of entertainment, Chigiri is the type to be so clueless when it comes to media because he just doesn’t have the time. Like you were shocked when he told you he never watched Star Wars. Sir, what do you mean?? 

It became your job to educate him on the vast world of entertainment, namely movies. He doesn’t really care what you pick as long as you’re happy. So when he’s got some free time on his hands, he’ll binge horror or DC/Marvel movies with you and even try to analyze the plot as it’s happening (don’t kill him please he’s just trying to show he’s interested). 

Would buy you merch of your favorite movies and get giddy when you wear it/decorate your room with it etc.

Lastly, I think Chigiri would sulk in the corner if you insist he let you dye his hair purple since it’s your favorite color, but he literally can’t say no to you, so eventually he yields reluctantly but shockingly, once all is said and done, he figures out he actually really like how purple looks on him. 

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

I’m gunna be honest. I think it just makes sense for Levi to like you because black cat x orange cat trope?? Him and Hange? Him and the Eren gang in general? Yeah. 

Going by your mbti, I imagine you’re not very extroverted, and I think that’s something that genuinely makes Levi let out a sigh of relief sometimes. 

*glance at each other* You: “wanna leave this party?” Him: “You read my mind.”

If loyalty were a person, it would be this man. He shows it in the small things, I’d say: Leaving you short messages before he leaves for work every morning, bringing you things that remind him of you, etc. I feel like that would be his way of saying “I’ve got eyes for you only/I’m always thinking about you and you alone”. 

Levi is such a meanie on the surface and I find it kind of hilarious. Like, I think you guys would complete each other's snark and sarcasm and people would not know whether you two are joking or not meanwhile yall are just trying to bite back giggles. 

If I’m being honest, Levi doesn’t strike me as a very creative person. He seems more of a STEM sort of guy if we think of him in a modern au, so he doesn’t pay much mind to the arts as a field. 

That’s not to say he isn’t supportive of your creative endeavors of course. You know when parents have no idea how a sport you play works but they still passionately cheer at your games regardless? Yeah, that’s Levi with your art, writing, etc. It’s all impressive to him even if you don’t think so and he’ll make sure you know that. 

“I love this poem you wrote. You could be famous if you took this up professionally,” he’d say even if there was like a single sentence on the page. 

Would be the type to send you anything art or writing related he gets on his fyp like “yup, she’s definitely gonna love this/find it helpful”. 

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I think Levi is actually a film buff. There, I said it. Something about him strikes me as movie lover. He would be the type to drop a quote from some obscure movie from the 50s with a straight face in the most serious tone ever which makes it even funnier. 

So, when you two have some free time, he loves to watch things with you while cuddling on the couch. he’s the type to read the captions before the characters actually say them and it just spoils the scene for him, and then he’d sulk as if it’s your fault, but it’s cute. 

When you two are watching horror movies, he’s the type to tsk and mutter under his breath complaining about the costumes or about how if he were there he would’ve totally killed that demon in like two seconds.

[voch]

I absolutely adored @firecurls-27’s idea of What If Chalice Was Adopted By Other DLC Bosses? and I decided to do that with the cupbros!

More info about these designs:

King’s Leap Prince Cup and Prince Mug were taken in by the King and Queen of games and raised to be proper Gamemasters. However, Prince Cup found he liked participating in the games way more than controlling them, and rebelled, living a double life. Every night he sneaks out and lives with the Mice, enjoying their jovial parties. Little does he know they’re planning to overthrow and execute the Queen. Mugman knows of his brother’s secret, but won’t give him away. However, he is very suspicious of the Mice, and isn’t afraid to go to any lengths to protect his kingdom. Where will each brother find their loyalties lies, and will they figure it out before it’s too late?

Esther Winchester Two Shots and Ten Gallon are the West’s most fearsome nogoodniks. Two Shots is small, rough, and rowdy, and has a shorter fuse than Mama Esther’s dynamite, but he’s an eagle eye capable of shooting a gold coin from across the town. Ten Gallon runs his Mama’s spaghetti saloon, but don’t be fooled by his more passive demeanor: he’s a professional con artist with more than a few tricks up his sleeve. Ten Gallon constantly worries Two Shots is gonna end up being picked by vultures in a ditch with his attitude, but there’s no stopping the sharpest shooter in the Isles… right?

Moonshine Mob Big Cup and Mugsy Smiles are actually raised by different members of the Mob, so they’re more distant than other Cupheads and Mugmen. Big Cup was taken under the Snail’s proverbial wing and Mugsy Smiles was adopted by Charlie and Lightbug. Big Cup is pretty tough and never takes no guff from nobody, but he feels pretty lonely in the mob. He has respect, but no real friends. He stuck the antennae into his hat to feel a bit more part of the family (just don’t ask where he got the antennae from). Mugsy Smiles, meanwhile, is more of an entertainer. He can play many instruments, he can sing, and he can dance. He’s not afraid to get his dirty in the real whiskey business, though. Big Cup and Mugsy Smiles don’t really connect the dots that they’re brothers, but they both feel like something is missing from their past…

Glumstone Cuppy and Muggy are beloved by the gnomes. Cuppy has gotten a real knack for mining and loves the shiniest of ores and gems. He even uses gold to fix cracks in his skin. Muggy tends to growing the Gnomeberry gardens, making sure they’re as bright and juicy as possible. Being raised how they were, they picked up many more talents, including storytelling, making every sentence a rhyme, and of course, mountain climbing. In fact, Porkrind often recalls the tale of how they rescued his beloved wife from her demise in the snowy hills. And every summer, when the happy campers dare to venture through the mountains, they may get to sneak a peek of the two tallest gnomes in the Isle…

Mortimer Freeze Cold Cup and Snow Milk, aka the Ice Cream Brothers, are not to be trifled with. The most powerful magicians in the Isles, their combined magic is said to be strong enough to freeze over Hell itself. Cold Cup uses Ice Cream and similarly delicious frozen treats to lure in new members, while Snow Milk… deals with them. Details in their design I’m proud of? Cold Cup has a Pentacle in his hat while Snow Milk has a Sword necklace. Pentacles are the replacement for Diamonds in Tarot, and Swords are the replacement for Spades.

Howling Aces Cast and Mike (named after “C” and “M” in the RAF Radiophonic alphabet, respectively) were raised as Yankee Yippers to be the new Top Dogs of the Howling Aces. Cast, who takes more after Hugo Bulldog — and even has the same bones tattoo to prove it — is serious and well-trained soldier. Mike, who has a more natural love of aeroplanes and leadership, takes more after Sargent O’Fera. However, Mike has a long-standing rivalry with local boy genius Canteen Hughes, who seems to have a bone to pick with the Aces, for some reason. Guess he and Mugman can’t be best friends in every universe…

[onyxrider]

Cursed obsession -*Part 1*

✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~✧~✴~

Synopsis: Your soldier Sukuna defies and attempts to murder you, his ruler. Put him in his place.

Content/Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, restrains, plot with porn, choking, double dicks, oral, coarse language, partly consensual, hair pulling, anal play, use of the word master, true form, attempted murder

Word count: 1,578 (will most likely be a 3 part series, part 2 is already in the works. )

In the world of Caedes, you were a powerful and merciless ruler seeking to expand your control over the rest of this world, other worlds and conquer all who stood your way. You pretended to be kind and benevolent towards civilians and soldiers of Caedes, but in reality, you only saw them as pawns to be used for your own benefit. You demanded unwavering loyalty and obedience from them, knowing that their labor and sacrifices would aid you in your ultimate goal.

Among your soldiers was Sukuna, a fierce sorcerer stronger than the rest who envied your position and wanted it for himself, but since you were able to awaken your full potential and learn the ultimate void, he knew he couldn’t overtake you. As Sukuna continued to challenge your authority, whether it be by rebelling to take on requested high priority missions or refusing to fight with other soldiers, you became intrigued by his defiance. You saw in him a spirit that mirrored your own: unwavering and a desire for power and control that burned fiercely. Despite his opposition, you knew that his strength and skills could be useful in your quest for total destruction.

When Sukuna could take your orders no longer, he snuck through an unguarded crawl space outside your castle near the dungeon and made his way into the torture chambers. 

“Please! Let me go, I didn’t find out anything, I swear!” You were torturing a spy from a distant land who was trying to seek out your war strategy to come. As you reveled in the spy’s suffering, a sense of unease crept over you. A presence,dark and malevolent as yours, lingered in the shadows, you knew without a doubt it was Sukuna. You run into the other chambers, turning your attention towards the shadows, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of him. And then suddenly, he appears before you. Within milliseconds, Sukunas arm swung with an unleashed dark bolt of energy straight to your jaw, causing it to drop. 

“Open up your majesty” sukuna smirked. You see him pull out a vial of liquid. Wait, you recognize this, its the king of deadly poisons, 1 milliliter alone and thats enough to kill. Quickly, while he attempts to open the vial, you quickly run and grapple his legs out from under him, resulting in you tackling him to the ground. 

“Give me one good reason i don’t kill you now!” you snap. Silently, he lay before you, his determination wavered. He was entranced by your presence, by the raw power that emanated from you. You see his eyes devouring you like a vulture. He found himself unable to deliver a fatal blow, trapped in a web of lust and desire that he could not escape. You could see the conflict in Sukuna's eyes, staring into yours as if he was puzzled by something, the struggle between his need to destroy you and the undeniable attraction he felt towards you. There was a primal urge between us, a magnetic pull that neither of us could resist, which Sukuna found himself hating a weakness such as that to surface

"You may try to kill me, Sukuna," you whispered, eyes locked with his while sitting on top of him, "But deep down, you want a taste of this power and control”. You slowly put your lips closer to the nape of his neck “You want the same control I have over my people, except I’m the one you want to dominate. You want a taste? Lets see if you can try indulging yourself” you whisper “Fuck women, why would i want a weakling like you? You call yourself a ruler, and yet you cant even notice an intruder coming in your fucking window” Sukuna snaps back.

You quickly grasp your hand around his neck and start choking him. “Weakling you say?  Im sure from that spy’s perspective over there he would say you are the weakling” Sukuna's power was steady, but not growing stronger, his muscles tense with conflicting emotions. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his pride and his desire.

“Whats this I wonder?” you use your cursed speech and are making him immobile momentarily while you reach for the vial of poison he had earlier. You know that he is immune to all poison, so of course hes not scared. Instead, you decide this is a great chance to teach him a lesson. You rip his pants in half, exposing two erect cocks. You then rip off his shirt, seeing a crease  where a mouth may be? On his stomach? With the vial in hand, you sit backwards on his stomach and slowly lick the bottom of the vial while glancing back at him, then you lean over and slowly start prodding his ass with it, circling and entering. You see his lower cock start throbbing. “They say you have ‘bottomless’ cursed energy, but they clearly haven't seen this ass” you chuckle at him.

“What the hell are you doing! You have a death wish?!” sukuna exclaimed, he sounded enraged, yet his eyes were brimming with pleasure. “No, I just have to punish my soldier since he's been bad as of late” 

“Damn women, just wait till I get my hands on you!” He says that, but then he starts rocking his hips back and forth, the vial getting stuffed in and out of him, keeping him wanting more with each plunge. You take the vial out of him and wait for him to respond. He starts thrusting his hips again, hes horny, erect and also angry. “Mmhm-you’ve gone this far, why stop now?” he snarled. 

“You need to start apologizing to your master”, you undress and sit back backwards on his stomach again, rubbing your clit on him when the mouth in his stomach appears. 

“Perfect time to apologize, how about you put that mouth to use” The tongue slowly circles around your clit, drool collecting a pool underneath you. The tongue starts to speed up, flicking up and down, making your now soaked pussy aching for more.Its tongue enters inside you, the course yet slimy tongue thrusting again and again to your cervix, and curling upwords, pushing harshly on your G-spot “I-ughh, I need more..than this damn vial” sukuna sighs

With his tongue still inside you, thrusting so hard it lifts you up a bit, you lean over again and start swirling your tongue around his top dick, savoring every lick of pre cum. You then spit on his dick, and shove it in your mouth while gripping and stroking the base of it, while your other hand strokes his second one. His tongue going faster and deeper now, a second tongue protrudes out, rubbing your clit now too. “Mmmhm!, fuck..you still have to do much more to atone-mmhm!" Your almost at your limit, you can feel his dick pulsing and throbbing in your throat with now 2 tongues in your pussy, one rubbing on your G-spot and one hitting your cervix, alternating times. You then grab the bottle again, coating it in the pool of spit from sucking on his dick, then start thrusting it deep inside of him with his dick still in your mouth

“Deese dicks….. meed to kmow ..who bare master is *gasp* and not just the two right here” you smirk with his cock half in your mouth. “You damn bitch, you think your so powerful, but look at how meak you are wanting to savor every bit… of this powerful body…mmhm!” 

Grabbing your hair - he pushes and pulls your head harshly up and down: "Ahh fuckkk, Im gonna….MMHM”, an explosion of hot cum gushes down your throat while his second dick spurts up in the air landing on your face and back. Lifting yourself away and licking the hot cum off your face, you slowly pull the vial out of him and stand up. “Well that was disappointing, my strongest soldier came before satisfying his ruler” you sigh and decide you should use your cursed speech again. 

“Why are you using that annoying curse again?!” sukuna asked angrily. “Because I’m not done with you yet, you weren’t even able to finish me and you certainly haven’t learned your lesson. Plus there are quite a few things we need to discuss that I’m sure you won’t willingly partake in. Now, let’s get you a new outfit” 

Sukuna still paralyzed, you go towards a crate in the corner of the room which had many energy suppressing ropes. “Ah, these will work nicely” you say happily as you walk back to him.

“How about you use that in your mouth since it don’t know when to shut the hell up” Sukuna snaps. “There wasn’t a problem with my mouth a minute ago though, was there? Yours on the other hand desperately needs this” You slowly, somewhat loosely gag him and proceed to box tie him, arms now back and feet together. You then decide to wrap the rope around the crease of his balls and wave the rope around the bases of both his dicks, turning them slightly red. 

“Are my dicks that much of a weapon?” Sukuna chuckles “Quite the opposite in fact, they are just too ‘quick’ to act and annoyed me, so I thought it best to help them out.” you chuckle back. Sukuna rolls his eyes and accepts his position, well aware that he can’t escape, but has a feeling you won’t kill him…well...most likely.

[the-golden-comet]

✨🏴‍☠️Find The Word Tag 🏴‍☠️✨

Avast! My good pal Jamie aka @tragedycoded has tagged me in a word find. You know what that means 😏✨

Time to sail the high seas of Peter Hart 🏴‍☠️💛✨

My words: favor, account, prayer, load.

Your words: destroy, sense, withhold, underneath

Favor

As the rest of the crew holstered their swords and guns, they held the ropes and rappelled down the castle wall. Benjamin shrieked as he felt the floor under his feet disappear, dangling his legs helplessly for a moment before wrapping them around Peter’s waist. Though he didn’t favor this position, he didn’t really have a choice. After all, they were ten stories from the floor, and Benjamin was not prepared to be another bloody mess at the feet of pirates.

Account

“Aye, cap’n.” Davey nodded, helping the crew with their loot gathering as they gathered themselves and their treasures. Thanks to the Seeker’s Medallion, despite Benji’s unwillingness, not a doubloon was left unaccounted for as the island was picked clean. Vultures to a fresh kill, until no meat was left on the sun-bleached bone.

Prayer

Frantically, Benji looked back towards the crevice, shutting his eyes tightly and tilting his head up as if to say a prayer, or to curse his horrid luck. Then, finally mustering the courage, the regal took a deep breath and submerged himself in the salty waters.

Load

Reloading and recocking the flintlock, Captain Hart shot one, two, three bullets into the skulls of the rapidly-approaching creatures. Goldman grabbed his own pistol and began firing rounds into the onslaught as the mildew-scented cave began filling with black smoke billowing from the barrels.

I will gently tag the following people (no pressure if you have already done a find the word tag. Just poke me in your original post if you’ve been double-tagged ✨)

@gioiaalbanoart , @wyked-ao3 , @alinacapellabooks , @dearunreliablenarrator , @badscientist , @noblebs , @sableglass , @words-after-midnight , @davycoquette , @saturnine-saturneight , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees , @cowboybrunch , @finickyfelix , @autism-purgatory , @marlowethelibrarian , @paeliae-occasionally , @agirlandherquill , @musicismymoirail , @eccaiia , @rivenantiqnerd , @willtheweaver , @drchenquill , @honeybewrites , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , @houseplantblank , @nczaversnick , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @theink-stainedfolk , @yourpenpaldee , @thecomfywriter , @mysticstarlightduck , @ominous-feychild , @minamaybe , @justabigoldnerd , @pippinoftheshire , +open tag! ✨

[moon-huny]

Stole the Moon - Chapter Three

CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Major language in this one ya'll. Also, smut towards the end. Some she/her pronouns used for reader in this one, and implied afab physicality. Oh, and masturbation. Kidnapping, coercion, imprisonment.

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: After being treated to a day of R&R, you and Buggy sit down for dinner.

A/N: So, I am like 15 mins late with this one. But look at the word count, now that's content baby! I worked kinda hard on it, so I hope ya'll like. I have never written smut before and it was a challenge. Lmk how I did. I feel confident that ya'll will like it, but you never know. Constructive criticism is for bad bitches so have at it!

There are some OC characters in this chapter. I know OCs can be a bit hit or miss. Do ya'll like em? Should I continue to include them? Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. I am only married to a few ideas in this series that I know have to happen, otherwise I welcome ya'lls ideas.

Oh! and happy kinktober. Okay, that's all, enjoy.

masterlist ✧˖°

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The moment Buggy shut the door the two young women were circling you like vultures. They pulled at your dress and snickered to themselves. The red-haired girl tugged at the ends of your hair and giggled.

“What exactly does captain –” she said.

“Expect us to do with you?” the raven-haired girl finished.

They dressed alike, finished one another's sentences, the way they took up space in a room together read as though they had known each other for a long time. 

“I take it your sisters?” You said, hoping to perhaps gain an understanding of their relationship.

They both laughed at your question.

“You hear that, Lettie?” questioned the fairer one.

“Marie, she thinks we’re sisters.” replied the other woman whose skin was steeped in golden tones.

Being in the same room as them felt like suffocation. As though they spoke a language you didn’t and breathed in air from an atmosphere you could only dream of.

“Come on,” they both said in unison and began to make their way out of Buggy’s quarters. If you thought that understanding them was a challenge, keeping pace with them was just as difficult. 

Exiting through the ornate double doors, the sun had risen much further in the sky than you’d expected. Nearly at its peak, you enjoyed the warmth it provided and would have basked in it all day if given the chance. However, your escorts were making their way back down towards the lower decks of the ship at a quick pace.

As you hurried across the deck of the ship to follow, you took a moment to scan your surroundings. Looking around the deck of the ship, crew mates in various theatrical themed garb milled about. Looking up toward the starboard quarter, you noticed the captain with two other men – one of whom was the swordsman who freed you from your cage earlier that morning.

They seemed to be pouring over a map – the map. He could feel you staring at him. Buggy looked up from the paper he and the two others were arguing over. A slight smirk pulled across his red painted lips. 

Deciding your eye contact lasted long enough, you turned back around to follow behind the strange duo, climbing down into the lower decks after them.

The two women walked hand in hand down the tight corridors. As you passed the turn that would have taken you back to your prison, you just nearly stopped, looked down through the unlit tunnel, and continued on your way.

Upon reaching the destination, the two stood on either side of a thick purple curtain along the tight hallway. The dark haired woman peeled back the heavy fabric and ushered you into the room. In the center was a beautiful, if not marginally damaged, claw foot tub. Glass bottles of every shade lined the walls, stained glass lanterns were the only light source.

“It’s getting cold,” they both said and gestured to the tub. The basin was full of steaming water that smelled of rosemary and mint. You gently pushed past them and floated into the room awestruck by the idea that such a place existed down the hall from your own personal hell.

“We’ll be back soon,” they said in a sing-song tone as they slowly closed the curtain behind you.

///

It is difficult to clock how long you spent pampering yourself in the bath. Even after the water went from scalding to cool, you couldn’t help but mindlessly float and get cozy in the water.

Your thoughts continually slipped back to your captor. His eyes had regarded you with such gentleness earlier but his smile told you he still wasn’t one to be trusted … but those eyes. The way they drank all of you in as though he could never get enough.

You reached up to wrap your hands around your neck feeling the necklace there. His touch could be bruising, painful, enough to make you squirm. But now, knowing he could be so light, and teasing. You closed your eyes attempting to recall the way he gently brushed your skin when he hooked the jewelry around you. You could imagine what that touch would be like lower, and lower, and … you caught yourself. You promptly removed your hands from your body and gripping each side of the tub. 

These thoughts you had for him were nothing but frustrations. To act on them would send you down a rabbit hole you might never crawl back out of. Stopping now was for your own good.

Just as you were leaning back to submerge yourself in the water, an anxiety welled up in your chest, as though a weight were all of a sudden being slowly lowered onto you. A memory began creeping its way back into your mind.

Waves. Terror. Screaming. Fear.

Eleven years old and drowning. The unforgiving sea pulled your small body through its currents. You didn’t know which way was up or down. Your lack of direction caused you to flail about in the surf attempting to reach out a hand and touch the precious air instead of more water.

You couldn’t see anything but the physical memory was there. The feeling of the sandbars scraping your skin as you were unforgivingly cast against them. It was then you remembered reaching out your hand and feeling hair. Then a hand. An arm. A face. Someone was next to you in the water, but they weren’t moving. 

All of a sudden you felt another person wrap their arms around you. A very strong and living presence carried you out of the churn and you remember feeling air hit your lungs as you –

Gasped out loud. Finally coming up for air from just underneath the waterline of the tub. The two women were pulling you up and out by your wrists.

“Oh my god, what –”

“In the east blue were –”

“You thinking!”

As you panted for air and cleared the water from your face, you couldn’t tell which one was speaking. 

“We leave you alone for one hour –”

“And you try to drown yourself in a three foot tub!”

///

“So you aren’t related?” You said, feeling a bit embarrassed that you had to repeat the question.

You were wrapped in a satin robe provided to you by Marie from her “personal favorites” closet. A gesture that seemed kind at first only until you realized that Lettie had ripped a hole through her copy of the red lacy loungewear and now neither of the women could wear it for fear they wouldn’t match.

“You dress so similar, all the way down to makeup and hair,” you continue.

“We’re acrobats,” they said.

Lettie continued, “at first, it was all just a part of our act.”

“But we decided that we liked being as close as possible at all times,” finished Marie. Her ocean blue eyes shone into Lettie’s golden amber pair.

“Even if that means inhabiting the same dress to feel truly synced,” replied Lettie.

Marie was curled up in her lap. The two women couldn’t keep their hands off of one another now that they were seated in the close quarters of their cabin. The space was small yet, crammed with stuff they’d collected. The queen-sized hammock they let you lie on swung on one side of the room. They were sprawled out on a beautiful yellow loveseat across from you. 

Clothing was tossed around the room in various locations. Corsets, garters, stockings and dresses all poked out from trunks and drawers. An ornate gold mirror adorned the wall, a sack full of makeup products was tossed to the side underneath it. 

“You must really love each other,” you said, feeling a pang of loneliness in your chest. You had curled up with a pillow on the surprisingly comfortable suspended cotton. 

“We didn’t at first,” said Marie. “In fact, we hated one another.”

“Marie!” cried Lettie.

So it seems they weren’t always on the same page. At least not enough to always know what the other one was thinking.

“We were … competitive,” said Lettie. “I simply could not stand the fact that she was so talented when she joined the circus. She was outstanding and I hated being upstaged by her.”

“And I couldn’t stand the meat head you had drooling over you all the time,” said Marie. “It really ticked me off. If I ever upstaged you, my love, it was because I knew I had to compete for your affections.”

“There was no competition,” said Lettie. “Once Xander caught on to that, and I realized that I loved you and only you, he was toast.”

Clearly reminiscing on their past was pulling them into their own orbit making them quickly forget your presence. 

“So, what happened?” you asked, pulling them from whatever intimate moment they were about to share.

“I killed her fiance – who happened to be the ring leader's son,” said Marie. 

“We agreed to live the rest of our lives as pirates on the run,” finished Lettie.

The way they held one another, the words they so sweetly exchanged made your heart ache. As they slowly added more details to their love story, it made you yearn for a partnership so full of passion and affection.

///

Marie and Lettie continued to share stories of their adventures far into the afternoon as they dug through trunks, barrels, drawers, suitcases and bags attempting to find something for you to wear. 

Finally they found a suitable dress for the evening meal you were preparing to sit for. The fabric fell around you perfectly, a short and very lacy white dress with wide flowing sleeves. They threw you a pair of dark red suede boots that climbed up your legs to your mid thigh. The beautiful moonstone still sat proudly on your chest.

Maire took it upon herself to tend to your hair and Lettie made herself comfortable in front of you to do your makeup. Nothing too crazy, just enough to hide the exhaustion that couldn't be whipped away in the bath. 

“Your hair is so pretty,” said Marie as she worked her way through the ornate hairdo. “Like a mermaid.”

Lettie’s eyes shot up toward her partner, a look of warning and one you certainly couldn’t ignore. 

“I- I just mean that …” stuttered Marie under her lover's hardened gaze.

As if on cue, Lettie swooped in, “she means that you have very beautiful features, like those legendary beasts. But thank goodness those terrible despicable things have long since died out.”

“Yes! Yes. That is exactly right, my darling. Look! I’m all done!” Marie ran up to the table and grabbed a small vanity mirror to show you the brilliant job she did. 

“And I’m done as well so it would be best if you start heading up towards the kitchen, yes?” said Lettie.

“You won’t come with me?” 

“Sorry dear we –”

“Have a few things to attend to,” they said, ushering you out of the room.

They waved at you from their room as you made your way back down the hallway.

Once you were out of earshot, Lettie could feel that Marie had something to say.

“What is it?”

“I can't help but feel like we’re sending her into the mouth of a predator.”

Lettie sighed and made her way back into the cabin, “it’s just the way he wants it done, Marie, I am not going to interfere.”

“Really? We already touched her, we weren't supposed to do that, remember?”

Lettie sighed, she knew the red haired girl was right.

“I know, my love, I know,” said Lettie. “But telling her? Hinting? Leading in such a way as to help her remember her past? That’s too risky.”

Marie was shutting her out, crossing her arms and looking out the door after you. Lettie floated over to her partner, she cupped the other woman’s pale white hands in her own warm brown ones. 

“I love you,” she continued. “We worked so hard to find this crew, to escape our old life.”

“I’ve killed for you,” replied Marie. “If I followed every rule, you would have been bed and wed to that loathsome strongman and I wouldn’t be holding you every night.”

“I think we’ve done enough, Marie.”

“And I know you don’t think that’s true.”

///

Entering the kitchen, a beautifully carved table was set with dozens of bronze candle holders each cradling a different colored stick of wax. The soft glow of all the tiny flames kept the center of the space well lit while the rest of the kitchen faded into darkness.

All of a sudden, you heard the door slam shut behind you. Jumping at the sound, you turned around to see a hand pushed flat against the heavy door. 

“You kept me waiting.”

Turning back around you saw the pirate captain leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed and kicked up at one end of the table. He was studying a goblet of wine before taking a sip from the decorated cup. His disconnected appendage floated past you and connected itself back to its rightful location.

“Patience is a virtue,” you reply calmly. 

You were starving, the food laid out on the table looked too good to be true. Fruits and fish and rice and all the things your empty stomach groaned for.

“Well, it isn’t all bad if it means my acrobats take the time to make you look like that,” he flirted back. 

Clearly the dress was doing wonders for you. You caught him gazing at the length of your legs and the small expanse of your exposed thigh right were the lace of your dress and the tops of your boots left just enough to the imagination. 

“Hungry?” he questioned. “Cause I’m starving.” 

You made your way to stand by the smug man. His eyes drunk you in as you approached him. Placing both your hands on the table next to him, you began your line of questioning. 

“I need to know what you want from me,” you demanded.

“Oh honey, what don’t I want?” 

“Cut the shit, clown,” you bit back. “The map you showed me four days ago. What’s it to and why did you need me to recognize it?”

He sighed. “Why don’t you eat first? You must be so so hungry.”

“No thanks to you,” you said.

“I’ll tell you about the map, just eat something first, yea?” He nodded toward your seat at the other end of the table.

Finally deciding to relent, you followed his direction and sat at the other end of the table. The plate before you held some of the most delicious food you’d ever seen. A grilled tilapia, no, mahi mahi, you really didn’t care what it was, it was edible. 

Hesitantly you took a first bite, then another, and soon you were devouring the food in front of you. You don’t think you’d ever eaten so fast in your life.

“Drink something, you’ll choke,” he commented, still maintaining his relaxed posture in the chair. He notably hadn’t eaten a thing. If you weren’t so consumed with stifling your hunger, you would have assumed everything on the table was poisoned.

Having him order you to do something with such cool confidence would typically make you enraged, but this command was more of an invitation, one you happily took. You picked up your matching vessel of wine and gulped it down. It was like nothing you’d ever tasted. Sweet and smooth and just rich enough to sit warmly in your stomach.

You quickly made work of what was in the cup. Then stood and reached for the rest of the bottle in the center of the place setting. Uncorking the top with your teeth, you threw your head back and chugged.

All the while he watched you. Gently lifting the cup to his lips to sip the very nectar you so intensely swallowed down. When you finished, you steadied yourself on the edge of the table and panted, hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, your eyes flicked upward to catch his green ones staring back at you.

“The map is to the Grand Line,” he said, holding eye contact. He placed his cup down and moved his body to fully face yours. “There is a river that travels up a mountain. In other words, it’s impossible to traverse it, unless you have a strong ship – or you know how to cheat it.”

You continued to watch him, eyes dark as he finally explained what the map was for. You knew about the Grand Line. Everyone did. There were monsters and pirates and some of the fiercest dangers you could think of.

“And why do you need me?”

He stood and made his way to you. In the candle light his features were so sharp. The shadow of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks emphasizing gorgeous cheekbones, his deep set eyes darkened in their sockets despite their bright color. The red color of his nose matched that of his lips which looked so much softer the closer he got. He leaned into the side of your face.

“Oh baby, there are a lot of reasons I need you,” he said whispering in your ear. 

He placed a gloved hand on top of your own on the table. It was so much larger than yours and he was so warm. The absence of his coat and hat made him look so much more relaxed, his muscular arms fully displayed. Maybe it was the alcohol in your stomach making its way through your bloodstream, but you began to feel lightheaded.

You slowly turned your head to face him and he followed suit. His seafoam eyes made contact with your own. His lustful gaze sped up your heartbeat. His lips were parted and you could feel his hot breath on your own, so painfully close but not close enough.

“My question for you, gorgeous,” he whispered into the space between you. “Do you need me?”

Your face shifted from a testing confidence to a pleading look of pure want. Your eyebrows pushed together and your eyes morphed from a darkened tease to a blown out lust.

“Oh good,” he purred. “Why don’t you say it, hmm?” His other hand came up to pet goose bumps on the skin of your arm. His fingers leading from your hand, up the back of your forearm, and softly drawing a line until he finally reached your shoulder, your neck, your cheek where he cupped your face.

Turning his head he went straight for the soft spot he knew would make you relent, nipping and pecking the soft skin there. His soft words and lips combined with the scratch of his stubble was enough to make you wet. 

“Say it baby, just tell me how much you need your captain.” he growled into your ear. 

Through the haze of lust and alcohol, you felt a defiance rise.

“You …” you gasped out.

“Yeeess?” he hissed.

“Are …” you continued.

Panting between words, his hand drifted down to caress your thigh and slowly pushed the lace of your skirt up so he could grip your bare hip.

“Not my captain,” you snarled. 

Placing your hands on his chest you pushed, hard. The shock of the action was enough to send him staggering back.

“You fucking little witch!” he yelled.

“And what the fuck are you going to do about it?!” you shouted back. “You gonna fucking kill me?! Oh wait, you wouldn’t –”

Your rant was cut short by his forearms detaching from his body. One pulled you by the wrist back into your chair and the other grabbed a small rope from across the room. You kicked, screamed and fought but he was stronger than you. Once you were bound by your wrists behind the chair, he stalked back toward you. Crouching down in front of you to knee level.

He peered up at you from his position on the floor. If it weren’t for the white hot anger coursing through you, his new orientation could have easily filled you with need.

“You’re a difficult woman,” said Buggy. What he wouldn’t tell you was that, from this position, he could smell your desire, and it was intoxicating. He inhaled and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down to hide the guttural moan he wanted so desperately to let out.

“Good thing I like a challenge,” he reached behind himself and pulled out a red smoke bomb. You immediately recognized it and began to fight against your confines yet again.

“No, no, no, Buggy no,” you warbled out.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” and with that he squeezed the little round pouch. As it disintegrated in his hand, he made his way to the door.

Leaving the kitchen, Buggy caught the attention of Cabaji, the only other crew member walking on the deck of the ship this late at night.

“Watch her,” said the blue haired man, pulling his bandanna off his head and heading at a quick pace to his cabin.

Cabaji had questions, tons, but he could tell that now wasn’t the time. The green haired chief of staff walked into the kitchen and saw your sleeping form draped over yourself in the chair, bound and half your neck painted in red.

///

Buggy slammed the door to his quarters. His long hair fell all around his face in a disheveled curtain of electric blue.

“That little fucking whore!” He threw his papers across the room, wiping his desk clean of all that was on it.

“God what I wouldn’t give to just ruin that, fuck, to absolutely snuff the rebellious spirit outta her, god damn it!” 

He was still hard and frustrated from teasing you. Recalling your little panting breaths – not yet moans – sent even more pulsing desire straight to his cock. The fire in your eyes when you defy him, what he would give to just crush it and force you under him.

The growling moans he bit back before now so casually fell from his lips. He let out a light chuckle and spread himself out on his throne.

He thought back to the softness of your skin where his lips grazed you. How he knew you’d feel like that all over the rest of your body. And god, your smell. The perfume you wore still lingered on his cotton glove. He pulled the white garment off his hand with his teeth while his other hand squeezed where his hardened member swelled beneath his belt. 

 “Oh, fuuck ~ ” he moaned.

Both of his hands made quick work of the metal buckle, he pulled his dick from the confines once he got the zipper down. Gripping the angry shaft, his tip already leaking precum, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

After swiping over the slit and collecting his slick with his ungloved hand he tugged quickly on his cock. He could only imagine your beautiful curves and the sweet little face you made when you wanted him.

“Oh shit, good fucking girl, yes, yes, pull on this dick, fucking make me cum.” he growled out. His eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He imagined what it would be like to eat you out, to have you ride his face and rub your sensitive little clit on his nose.

He’d make you come again and again just to hear you, something he still hadn’t gotten the pleasure to discover. Would you be quiet, whimpering and whining like a little kitten and cumming with a sweet and soft little shudder around his cock? Would you be loud and vocal like his own personal whore, your tight pussy squeezing him like a vice when you came?

“Fuuuuck baby, when I get inside you, fuck, when I get inside you I won’t fucking stop god fucking damn it,” he rambled out, gripping his dick tighter. “Fuck. Fuck. I wanna, princess, fuck, baby your captain wants to cum. Make me cum. That’s right, yes, good girl, such a good girl f’ me make me cum.”

He was incoherent, completely drunk on his own pleasure and the thought of you. After a few more lewd tugs on his cock, he came with a groan that almost sounded painful. He sat back in his chair panting and coming down from the high you filled him with.

He slowly regained consciousness and raked his hands through his long hair. The makeup on his face long since smudged and sweated down his face. He cleaned up and tucked himself back into his pants. 

The ship would be docked tomorrow, looking out the back window, Buggy could see land and, as if on cue, the crew mate in the crow’s nest shouted the all familiar phrase of land ho.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚

taglist: @tokoyamisstuff @mommymilkerfanclub @chaoticqueen33 @tootoomanycats

taglist is open.

[batchilla]

Chapter Two - four years later.

Gold digging bitch is perhaps one of the kinder titles Gotham's pack of vultures had seen fit to bestow upon you. Jason had told you the truth of course, but the story cooked up by the bats had been different. The resurrected  son of the prince of Gotham couldn’t just have a divorce in privacy, and you had needed to put on a show for the Black Mask, so a more exciting version of events was created. 

The story went that you’d caught Jason in bed with another woman. He’d insisted on being the bad guy, knowing that he’d be better equipped to put the scandal behind him than you. However it hadn’t completely protected you. Publicly, the story was that you’d made it out of the divorce like a bandit thanks to a good lawyer and a series of compromising photos of Jason and his fictional lover.

 Reality was that Jason had insisted you keep the apartment, the car, virtually all of your shared assets, reasoning it was Bruce’s money, and that he’d be well provided for, himself only taking some valuable art and collectibles to seem like there had been any sort of fight, and the rings, the only sentimental request he had made.

 He ranted and raved about how you had total custody, and yet still managed to bleed him dry with child support, bemoaning the unfairness and your cruelty to all who would listen, playing the role of the bitter ex in a oscars worthy performance, which the press devoured like the pack of jackals they were. 

Behind closed doors, he had initially offered nearly double the amount before you talked him down. 

It hadn’t been pretty, even if you understood his reasons, even if he’d tried to make it easier for you however he could, it had still hurt. You were still angry. But when all was said and all was done, Mary came first. Her safety and happiness were all that mattered, and eventually you came to terms with the fact that Mary being safe was ultimately synonymous with Jason being gone from your lives. Except that wasn’t quite right; the problem wasn’t Jason, but Red Hood… and you weren’t sure one existed without the other.

You had stayed in touch with the Wayne's as a whole - there was no need to deprive them all of Mary, nor Mary of her extended family, so long as it was done carefully, normally in the form of sleepovers at Wayne manor, carefully scheduled to be done when Jason was elsewhere, and any signs of the families more exciting nightly activity hidden away to preserve her ignorance.

 It had taken him two years, but eventually, he came home. No. You remind yourself, no, not home, not his home, not anymore. He had come to your apartment, bearing gifts, a hopeful smile, and word that the Black Mask was dead.  

For two whole years since the Black mask had been killed - since Jason had killed him, he’d largely stayed away. Telling him he still needed to, because even with The Black Mask dead, someone else could step into his place at any time had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, short of watching his coffin be lowered into the ground. Jason staying away had hurt, but not nearly as much as when he didn’t. Days of absence didn’t hurt nearly as much as days like this, when the Red Hood landed on your balcony. 

You can’t see his face, but you know him. You know exactly the expression that’s under his mask, the smile that fills your heart with longing and anger all at once, sheepish, yet somehow cocky. He taps on the window, and you snap out of it, turning away to shut the bedroom door, snipping the lock to deter your precocious seven year old before you open the window, letting him in. “What's wrong?” you ask. You can’t manage small talk. Not with him. You’d do something stupid, like admit you missed him. 

Because he was right, as much as it hurt. You missed him so much in the beginning it was hard to breathe, though it had dulled to a throbbing ache. You’d always love him, but the fact was… your baby is safer the further away you stay from each other. The Black Mask may be dealt with - but it could easily happen again, worse than the last time. 

“Think I hit my head…” he says, all but falling into your arms as you help him to the bed, to the bed you’d shared oh so long ago. He takes off his helmet, his gaze piercing your soul, those too green eyes seeming to see into your heart. “Hey pretty girl.” He whispers, as though the mere sight of you took his breath out of his lungs - if he wasn’t concussed, he’d probably insist you did, if you brought it up - not that you would, because it would hurt, and it wouldn’t change anything. “How bad is it?” You ask, trying to assess the damage, turning his head in your hands to check if there were cuts, an egg, any indication of how bad it was to your limited medical understanding. “I’ve been worse.” He says, leaning into your hands. “Honestly I think I’ll probably be fine, but dizziness and nausea and grappling across Gotham seemed … blagh.” “How eloquent.” You tease. “I suppose you best stay the night, in that case.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How eloquent.” You tease. “I suppose you best stay the night, in that case.”

This isn’t Jason’s proudest moment. Nor were any of the other times he’d done this. He was hurt, genuinely. But he could have called for backup, instead of using it as an excuse to see his two favourite people, but well… he couldn’t keep away. He’d killed Roman two years ago. To his surprise, Bruce had hardly even protested. He was, in all honesty hurt, given the exception had not been made for him, but it also reassured him to know that if anyone came for his baby all bets were off. As they damn well ought to be.

“You're so good to me, darlin.” He’s laying it on thick, perhaps too thick, and with any luck you’ll blame his concussion. He should back off a little, just in case. “I’ll make it up to ya.” He whispers, resting his hand on top of yours, keeping your hand cupped to his face, if only for a moment more. You smile then, something that sends his heart into double time. “Rest up, I’lll call the cave, let them know you're safe… Just…” You stand, moving to the lesser used bedside table - his old one. You toss a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie onto the bed next to him, kept there for just his occasion. Mary was only seven after all, too young to grasp the weight of her fathers secret, to carry the burden.  

“In the morning, prepare to be a climbing gym for the world's most excited first grader… she missed you.”

Jason’s stomach backflips, and not due to his nausea. It hurt. Fuck, did it hurt to know he’d hurt his little angel. It almost hurt as much as that first visit, two years ago now.

“Well.” Jason starts removing his Red Hood gear and pulling on the sweatpants. “I suppose there are worse ways to wake up. How… How is the little Cherub?” He moves to start undoing the body armour on his torso, but in his slightly dazed state he can’t quite manage the straps and buckles. “ ‘d you mind…” he gestures his chin to the problem, and you nod, moving to undo them for him as you answer the question. 

“She’s doing well. Still practically worships the green arrow.” Jason grumbles, half a laugh and half a groan. “I blame you for that angel.” Your hands falter in their work, a small sad smile on your face. “I confess I … encouraged it. Call it post divorce pettiness.” You say with a quiet chuckle, before continuing. “She’s doing so well at school - she inherited your love of reading, I think.” Jason grins, leaning back on his elbows to give you better access to the various attachments, and you suspect a better view as they come off, but you're in no mood to call him out on it, not now. Partially because you prefer talking about Mary then the mess the two of you made, and partially because well… Jason was quite the view. He was covered in scars, bruises and scrapes, all earned in battle for Gotham, and for the greater good. Not to mention, the training for said work had him built like a fucking adonis. “That's my little girl.” He says proudly. “In more ways than one… she can be a little menace when she wants to be… I worry about Uncle Damian’s influence.” you say, only half joking. “Next time you're at the manor, please remind him that swordplay lessons are not an appropriate bonding activity for our seven year old?” Jason laughs, and nods, now shirtless. The only thing left on his torso is a leather braided cord which holds two rings - one of which had once adorned your finger, the other his. You knew he’d kept them, of course. They’d been the only thing he put up any semblance of a fight for… but you had no idea that he’d done this, kept them literally close to his heart all these years. You have to glance away as he pulls  the hoodie over his head, or you might just tear up. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll talk to him.” he promises, clearly amused by his adopted brothers somewhat chaotic and warped views of what was appropriate for a seven year old. You feel your heart stop and start at the same time, the nickname stirring feelings that for Mary’s sake, you cannot allow to be stirred. You open your mouth, but then you look at him, bruised and tired and his mind not firing on all cylinders, and decide it can wait till morning. Jason moves to wrap an arm around you, but you push him off. “Right. I best make that phone call. You get to the couch… Do you want anything? Food, water, some - wait can you take pain killers?” Jason shakes his head “No, not with a potential concussion… but the first two sound great. Thank you.” You can’t cook, without risking waking up Mary, so a packet of goldfish, a granola bar and a glass of water will have to suffice, and you drag yourself back to bed, the urge to walk back into the living room and invite your former husband to join you slowly increasing in strength and pull every minute of the rest of your sleepless night. There was a lot to be said… but it could wait till dawn; you’d put it off for four years, you could refrain from completely breaking his heart a few hours more.

[canaidliafail]

Stay grounded pt.4

[ part 5]

streamer abby x streamer reader 🌿 MDI

notes: alright so this was long. almost 4k words if Im right but its cause I had a lot I wanted to say. This episode is a lil more depressing then the rest since I spoke a bit on loss & trauma. I hope you don’t mind that and still enjoy reading it 🤍 it does end on a very positive note though :>

CW: trauma and mentions of loss of parental figures, sexual content, alcohol usage and Abby being a community strap

•ABBY’s POV•

•if I leave, maybe I can start again , Do right on the wrongs and have a better chance •

_________

In your darkest hours, when it's most difficult to stay afloat you will find yourself in absolute cold white solitude . It's not that you don’t have friends, it's that your fall tends to happen when everyone is away,

you friends will have exams or an important event, your parents will most likely be drowning in work.

such is the course of life. So with bared teeth and a tense jaw you have no choice but to march on. Abby's downfall came in the form of persistent nightmares where she would see her dad. Every year near his death’s anniversary she would become a shell of herself and in those weak moments she leaped back into old habits and sought out comfort in old connections. Until the consequences of those actions caught up to her and she paid double the price in fallen friendships and blackmail

In grief your judgment is clouded. Your anger takes the best of you but see, the world doesn’t owe you an apology.You know, you don’t get over a loved one's death. You just learn to live with it. Live with that and every other hard bitter truth. And that's what Abby learned to do.

_________

Abby enjoyed her routine and the way she had neatly organized every aspect of her life. She maintained a perfect balance of secrecy and exposure and kept everything under wraps, emotions included. Her manager did occasionally usher her to post more scandalous things since she was about to open an onlyfans but abby remained adamant that her crowd would find out about it without her saying so much as a word

Everything had a plan and purpose and everything was peaceful. Until you came into her life out of nowhere. She could not understand why did her mind stay so hangup on your name after that stream but she was sure she had seen it before.

perhaps in a fanart or maybe a shoutout?

so she went to check that day her socials until she saw your repost and the familiar username popped up cottoncandy

she looked at it and went through your profile and hated how intrigued she was by your interests but mostly by your appearance. There was something too unique to pass by and so she had decided to close her phone and go to the gym.

I can not allow someone in my life right now. Everything is in its place and it just…it wont work

She tried to convince herself while getting dressed. But you lingered in her mind like a vulture circling around waiting to pounce. There was a girl at her gym, one that she didn't know her name but she was presentable and had a spunky attitude and most importantly, really wanted Abbys attention. Abby was in the middle of taking a break between sets and took off her cap to wipe her face from the sweat with her gym towel. The girl approached her then and had her usual chatter that often times lasted around three…maybe four minutes. This time she was determined to ask Abby out. And Abby normally would agree without giving much thought into it. Nora once had called her community strap and she hated how well that nickname fit. When the question came though Abby found herself putting on her black hat back on and lowering it enough that the shadow would cover her eyes,rejecting the expecting girl curtly and went back to her sets with more force than usual. Because nothing today went “as it usually fucking would”

When she went back home she spent a good few hours stalking you and then another few denying she did that.

she texted Nora who unceremoniously left her on

read

“fuck” abby mumbled

It had been…years since she felt a spark of interest towards someone. Sure she was sexually active. Ever since she had her sexuality figured out she spent a year making up for lost time sleeping left and right with every woman that winked at her. However none of those girls -which did not lack in wit or looks in any way- piqued her interest. So she was bothered by you and why you were on her mind so much. She doom scrolled your entire page and when that was no longer enough she searched your YouTube channel to find your videos. 2.

Only two videos which meant thats how much it took for you to move to streaming. She rested on her couch and Alice whined next to her

“I do not need my own dog bullying me right now” she growled and Alice laid on her bed feigning innocence. She put your video playing in the background.and would chuckle at your jokes and then she would actually break into loud laughter and would replay a moment in awe. Eventually when wrapping up the video you sat back and had a talk in response to an older question

-I like this game.it speaks on the experience of loss which ,well…anyone who has personally lived through it would know how isolating that feeling is. I like that. Most importantly I like that depending on where you are in life you will take a very different message from this game, the purpose of revenge, forgiveness or acceptance. Or maybe something else that I am not in that stage to grasp yet. Highly recommend you guys play it as well-

She was taken aback. She didn't expect this video to end on such a note and she felt her heart ache. Not in pain but in something else entirely. Her frustration turned into delight. She started liking what you did to her and that was enough for her to make a move

___________

Ellie and Abby had a weird relationship. Abby no longer hated her but she didn’t like her either, however being in the same community and city meant you would have to be involved one way with one another thus she took the smart, professional decision to keep things civil. It was her managers request really, no. It was a demand actually but she followed through. So while they occasionally would post a pic whenever they hang out, Abby wanted nothing more to do with her unless necessary and she believed that the feelings were mutual.

However when she saw Ellie take notice of you the way she had something snapped. Abby had the privilege of being in Ellie “close friends” story and saw the upcoming comment of her admiring you and she got jealous. so she had to pull something. Something to keep you focused on her.

Her insecurities always got the best of her in times like this and when it happened she was irrational. She decided buying you that beloved statue that you mentioned more than once on your streams would send the message clearly

you didn’t. Because gifts were anonymous. But someone did get the message a few days later

“explain this purchase please” he asked mad and impatient

“Thought you wanted me to branch out and go international. She is an upcoming streamer and-“

“oh. So its a she. Explains a lot then. Should I be concerned for more large expenses on behalf of your breaching out?”

said her manager with a sharp tone. Abby pursed her lips and looked up and away in concentration. Truthfully she was bad at this. at being professional. That's why she had a manager. She forgot to account for the fact that the transactions she made went through him, which was usually a good thing. She forgot why now, but it was

“I promise I won’t do anything stupid…well-“

she tried and she heard Isaacs deep breathing on the other line

“yes?”

silence

“abby speak. I’ve known you long enough”

“So I thought of sending her a video…would that be good?”

“I do not want to know about your private sex life”

“no see I won’t directly send it…”

more silence. Abby chewed on her lip and rubbed her neck. She was sitting on her gaming chair ready to film and she was hot and ready enough which she feared Isaacs boring tone would turn her off and would ruin her plan

“It has to be behind a paywall. Abby this is business and even though I don’t want to ruin whatever fairytale shit you are living in you can’t keep doing whatever you want, you have a name and”

she put he phone on speaker and left it on her desk. she walked to her kitchen, made a coffee and filled alices bowl with food. when she went back to the room Isaac was still talking

“alright so how much should I charge?”

“400. The way you usually do”

“400?! There’s no way she will pay that- She doesn’t even know it will be sent only to her” she protested and he groaned

“200?” she asked

“250 and that's final” and he finally hung up. She smiled and once she was back and ready she started filming.

it started slow and she didn’t really intend to go too far. just enough to give you a taste of her. She had a very clear image of you in her head. Eventually though her thoughts drifted to you between her thighs, on your knees and ready to taste her. She let out a sigh and her fingers circled her clit in slow motions. she pictured you biting the waistband and asking for permission, looking up at her with those lovely eyes. your voice came a lot cleared than she expected

“Can I? abs?” and she groaned and let out a chocked

-fuck- as her hand went lower and she started fingering herself. She tried to fool herself that it was your tongue against her folds instead of her rough calloused fingers

“fuck cotton-“ she whispered and folded in on herself as she started thrusting harder still not getting the satisfaction that she craved. she wanted to feel you. On top of her riding her strap and beneath her as she rode your face. She knew you would look good all messed up, makeup ruined from the heated session.

What did you sound like when you moaned ? Were you loud in bed ? did you talk a lot? were you shy?

Fuck I wanna know…I need to know you

and with that she came. she grabbed her phone and the 20 minute video she had planned had to be cut at the 3 minute mark due to her stupidity calling out your name. Loud and clear too. she sat on the floor and stared at the footage for a good few minutes before sending it and waiting with the tab open.

within the first hour she already feared that you would buy the video. she even considered deleting it and sending it for free. she could deal with Isaac tomorrow

but few minutes later she saw the pending turn to paid

_________

Almost as if in another timeline, she had to visit a professional on matters she deemed unimportant, and if they ever mattered to her, she now forgot why.

Abbys therapist was a woman cunning and smart and could decode everything about Abby. They had been working for a year. That was the longest that Abby ever stuck with the same therapist before running away in anger at the lack of progress. She was unsure if this one helped, but she did find herself accepting her anger and coming to terms with it. She would still cry about it and she would always stay spiteful to her peers that still had their parents close.

“I’m happy that you seem more willing to open up your heart again Abby. I have to ask though. Are you sure this isn’t a hopeful trauma bond that you are seeking to create?”

“No, definitely not. Sure I liked that she seemed more insightful and all but no, I just like her for all the other aspects” Her therapist took note of that and Abby felt insecure in herself and her decisions once again

________

After her bold move on onlyfans, She did expect to get the silent treatment but she underestimated how stubborn you would be about it and that was a thing that really excited her.

such a brat

She held the plastic cup in her hand and stared at the clear liquid as it swished back and forth.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. What if she doesn’t even like me? I mean I know she has been following me for a while but that doesn’t say anything…”

Manny leaned against the table and crossed his arms in consideration.

“I dont know man I think she does like you, she’s probably just shy or something”

“shy?!Manny she hasn’t texted me in two days and we were supposed to call again last night”

“oh, so two days is too much but you leaving her on ready for weeks is fine?”

Abby rolled her eyes

“Do you have to remember every little thing?!” She looked around at the crowd dancing and playing beer pong. She didn’t even remember whose villa this was, only that it was a big shot youtubers that she got invited to. She usually avoided these events. Abby, despite of everyone's assumptions, was in fact shy and a little awkward and when Mel & Owen were at these parties it made her a lot more tense than she already was. She saw the couple in a corner kiss and then talk with others and eventually Mel would glare at Abby.

With a long sigh she grabbed her phone to check your profile. you had a story next to the statue she got you and she felt her cheeks heat up in excitement the room finally going quiet as her focus was directed at your photo. She slid up to respond to the image and was interrupted by someone getting a little too close to her personal space

“So you know her?” Ellie asked. Abby looked at the short girl and held back a scoff

“Kind of. We occasionally talk”

Ellie nod and looked around and then back at Abby

“Ugh…do you perhaps know if she is..single? or lesbian?”Abby sat on that and realized you actually had never explicitly announced your sexuality which made her reconsider every damn thing she did so far. Then came the next question.

were you even single ? or did she just make a move on someone who is spoken for?

Abby noticed ellie cock a brow and before she could smirk in triumph she locked her phone and shoved it in her pocket

“Yes she is but she already has her eyes on someone” She half lied. I mean she did hope you had your sights set on her but she couldn’t know for sure. You had talked about things before but somehow Abby never even thought to question you about those very crucial details.

“hm…I see” said Ellie and abby gave her a curt nod and excused herself. She was in no mood to talk to her any further than that but she felt uneasy. Ellie was persistent and Ellie was also, very openly a lesbian. she was attractive and there was no reason you wouldn’t be attracted to her.

“fuck this is so stupid” she mumbled to herself and went to fill her cup with more alcohol. there was no way she would be able to handle the night otherwise.

At this point two things were possible. She was drunk or she was seeing things. She double checked and indeed, there was a message from you. a few actually with videos attached and all. If she were at home, she would be screaming in ecstasy. she went to the bathroom for privacy and checked your chat which consisted of a mess of texts thanking her for the gift and the rest fawning over how ‘gorgeous Eivor looks in this size” and Abby bit her lip to stop herself from smiling anymore like an idiot. It was adorable. She watched the videos again and again of you showing her the statue which she didn't really care about but just your excited voice was enough for her to stay hooked on those three, 4 second clips.

Glad you liked the gift

Cotton candy: liked ????? My God I need to make it up to you somehow I don't know how, like dfjjdkrkge

A breathy chuckle escaped Abbys lips as her heart swelled at the sight of your texts. She noticed in the short span of talking to you that you tended to speak a lot more and a lot faster when it came to your interests. Without filter too and she liked that.

How about that call that you completely ghosted me on?

Cottoncandy: Ok listen I was…well

Cottoncandy: Fine sure. I’m free now if you are ?

Sure. I'll go take a shower and be back

And Abby rushed out of the bathroom and went straight to Manny to ask for her coat and car keys.

“What ,are you leaving?”

“Yeah sorry I’m not feeling so well, think I’m getting another migraine”

She said morphing her face into a pained expression and grabbed her leather jacket the minute he passed it over to her. She had never seen herself fold so fast over a girl and she was not in the mental state to acknowledge how embarrassing all of this was on her behalf

half an hour later when she was back home she immediately texted you trying to seem cool, relaxed, unbothered even

ready?

cottoncandy: sure :)

and she pressed “call”

__________

Things were just easier after that. She noticed you relax up and get bolder, responding to her posts more often and occasionally sending a text without waiting for her to post a story which she admitted to have started doing a lot more often for the sole purpose of giving you the push you needed to talk to her. You would often hang out at each other's streams and she quickly found out that when it came to humor, it was identical to one another and would throw jabs at each other that kept the chat entertained and Isaac pleased because your audience had new things to speculate. Abby was public with her friendships without disclosing anything more which left her audience running in circles and trying to pry more private information. This whole back and forth with you now reignited the audience's spark and due to how new it was, everyone seemed supportive and excited. In the back of her mind, Abby feared that this would eventually prove to be difficult to manage but she forced herself to stop rushing things in her head.

At the end of the day, so far you two were just friends who talked and, well, had probably simultaneously jacked off at the thought of one another without ever addressing that. That was another thing Abby chose not to speak about despite the fact that she would obsessively check on who purchased her sets to come to the sad realization that she had in fact scared you off her onlyfans.

She wasn’t sure if all of those were things she was supposed to feel, after all she had never taken it slow with anyone. Not that she ever gave them the time being that she would mostly do one night stands. With you it was different and she had to understand if it was due to the distance or if you were special to her after all

cottoncandy: Uni was AWFUL. I am actually dropping out

you are so dramatic

Came her response to which she received a fiery series of messages of you whining about how difficult things were before winter break.

cottoncandy: I honestly can't wait for it. I am so excited to just rest :)))

any plans? Do you have a trip planned with your friends or maybe your partner?

you read the message immediately but it took you a few minutes to respond and Abby gave a pat on her back in a derogatory way.

this is the worst possible way I could’ve asked if she is single

cottoncandy: no specific plans and no partner. I'll probably rot on my couch since my plans on going on a trip crumbled.I would cry but my tears run thin due to exams these days

You really like traveling dont you?

Cottoncandy: Who doesn’t ? I love visiting my friends abroad or vice versa

Abby didn't travel much. Not outside the country at least. She considered your messages and tried not to delude herself into a double meaning. Were you asking for an invite or were you inviting her ? Perhaps you were just venting. She was Picking at a thin layer of unstuck plastic from her table and toyed with it until it snapped. Either was she now knew you were not seeing someone and she could make a move guilt free

There wasn’t really a discreet way to go about this and if she was going to suggest it, you would need at least a heads up to rearrange your schedule.

I could visit you for winter break. I’m usually free around that time

She was rambling. She never spoke that much. But the rewarding excited messages that followed suit were rewarding enough to make up for her discomfort

Cottoncandy: Holy shit are you , wait for real?!

Sure. I always wanted to visit your city

She didn't. Again, Abby didn't travel. She didn't care about traveling. She just wanted to see you. Her phone screen went blank and then your face popped up on call.

“Yes?”

-Did you mean it? Cause if so I need to prepare things

“Like I said. We both have those two weeks available and it was about time I took a little trip. I could talk my manager into believing this is for work”

-Oh sure. If you want we can do a collab as well so that you don't take a loss in revenue and stuff

“Cotton its fine. I just wanna hang out with you. Don’t worry, leave that up to me”

She reassured and felt her ego inflate at how easily you seemed to be put at ease with her words. She couldn’t know for sure if her attraction was romantic or just sexual but she sure as hell loved the way you two aligned.

You spoke for a while and with winter break only a month away you already settled on the dates.

“I have to go to the gym now but I’ll send you a text once I get the tickets so that you know what time Ill be there

-alright perfect! See ya

Abby put her phone away and for a few minutes she would occasionally laugh, softly, while imagining what it would be like. She was nervous and with delight she noticed that she finally regained that spark in her where she had a crush and wanted to speak about her instead of statistics, trauma or finances. she felt good

[tonightwrites]

The Strong Willed Empress

Chapter 5 PT 2

"The Return of the Vulture"

Allarick walked quickly towards the bedroom wanting to wash up before meeting with his Empress. The Empress always wanted him looking presentable when he was in the divine presence of his beloved. The Emperors cape flew in the wind in a majestic and threatening way. He made slow calculated movements of a predator. Always watching and waiting for those... things.

The large gates rumbled and groaned to life once Allarick was standing close enough for the guards to see his face. All to slowly did they lift up. He could see the window to the bedroom they shared. Just arm's length away and he isn't there yet. 'This is taking way to long.'

The gates were to loud to hear the on coming carriage. The coachmen of the red, black, and gold carriage pulled the reins of the horses as hard as he could. The Emperor turned around to see the leading horses raise on their hind legs. He quickly moved out of the way only to cut the reins that held them to the carriage.

The beautiful carriage tipped on its side and skid to a stop. The enraged Emperor didn't care what they were here for or why they were speeding towards the palace, he just wanted them gone. A man around 20 cycles* old climbed out of the door. He held on for life hoping the wood would break under his weight.

Allarick glared at this man hoping that it wasn't another 'peace treaty'. He briskly walked over to the man and was preparing to behead him for coming into the palace unannounced.

"Halt! Re-sheathe your sword! I am The Prince of Amodod! Here to negotiate a peace treaty." That straw shuck of a man said to the Emperor.

"All the more reason to kill you then. Hold still, I'll make this as quick as my anger will let me." The Emperor sounded calm, to calm for the words coming out of his clenched teeth. The palace guards were rushing towards the scene with Alun behind them.

Dominic was watching everything from his window. 'Another concubine?? Shouldn't I be enough... though either way I'll remain the Empress' favorite.' He ran towards the double doors leading to the hallway and began to bang on them to let him out. Don't keep him in this room anymore! It's torture! The Empress is already looking for others to fill his shoes!

The Empress calmly waited in the throne room already knowing the chaos ongoing through the entire palace. The magnificent being sat on a plush pillow sipping on some water to help the headache growing from the stress of this week. A sigh echoed through the room.

Taglist : 1. @zanary 2. @meforpr3sident 3. @yandere-dark-cupid 4. @devils-blackrose 5. @gallantys 6.@eliciana 7.@ayolk 8.@gayfagdownthestreet 9.@hope-thehooker 10.@reallysparklychaos 11.@deepdinosaurwizard 12.@ana-dear 13.@laylasbunbunny 14.@heavenlayt 15.@redrosetrappola 16. @skull-centric 17. @wannapizzamymindposts 18. @pinkrose1422 19. @thisladyisgay 20. @brieftastemakercollector

[kittythelitter]

Thinking about a stobin focused shifter au where anyone who spends a little too long in the upsidedown becomes a shifter to a slightly demo/unsettling/vaguely off version of whatever animal they're most like, and control is hard, and amount of time spent in the upsidedown correlates to how much time you can/need to spend in shifted form.

So like Will, even after he gets control, needs to/wants to spend like half his time shifted but can't be shifted full time.

After getting stuck in the tunnels Hopper is like. Needs an hour/day on average and can stay shifted for up to 6 hours at a time.

After the tunnels Dustin, Lucas, Max, Steve, and Mike need a few hours a week/can stay shifted up to 3 hours at a time ish.

And then after season 4, Steve is up to Will levels because he got double (or even triple depending on how you look at it) exposed.

Robin, Nancy, and Eddie are like. Slightly more than Hopper. Like maybe need 1.5-2 hours a day can stay shifted for like 8 hours if necessary.

Dustin is now almost Hopper level because he got exposed a second time.

It takes time to learn control and obviously Will gets the most control quickly followed by everyone who got exposed in season 2. When the younger teens are going through puberty their control fluctuates enough that they all have to take time off from school to work on it. Steve is the best of the Season 2 Crew at getting and maintaining control because he has a lot of practice with physical activity and conditioning and personal discipline when it comes to sports and body control. El can help to a certain extent.

Anyway. All this to say. I can't decide on animals for everyone and I'd love input.

Steve is very much dog. He's loyal and protective and all that good stuff. And he mostly seems like a normal dog maybe with a little bit of a skin condition that makes his skin under his fur a weird texture but mostly normal except when he gets protective sometimes his mouth opens too big and he has too many teeth and bigger claws.

For Hopper I'm thinking also Dog but like. A dog that is Off. There's something weird about that dog like those dogs that look like they might be people in fur suits from certain angles.

Will I'm thinking something small and good at hiding. Like a burrowing rodent maybe. Like a rabbit or a hamster or a mouse or a Rat.

Henry/Vecna/One is a turkey or maybe a turkey vulture because turkeys are ugly and evil.

Dustin I wanna say small predator mammal like a weasel or a ferret or a stoat but IDK.

Mike is i think a very similar dog to Steve and HATES that they're so similar but I'm open to suggestions.

Max is a cat.

Lucas is also a cat because I don't have a better one for him except maybe also a dog like Steve because he and Steve are also similar and he looks up to Steve but I think it would be cute if he and Max were both cats but like very different kinds of cats but I'm very open to input here.

Robin is also a Cat (can you tell cats are my favorites?)

Nancy is some kind of persistence predator I think. Maybe a cat maybe something smaller and cuter but also deadlier. Like those super cute tiny wild cats that are the most deadly predators you know? I'd love input from people who know more about Nancy I love her but I don't get her like I get Robin yk?

Eddie is a raccoon or a bat but I will take feedback on this

Please let me know what you think and if you have other ideas for what animals they should all be.

Really tho I'm just. Imagining the cuddle piles and also Robin and Steve being inseparable in all forms but particularly Robin getting one of those tennis ball chuckers to tire Steve out when he's in a Mood and like. Everyone who doesn't Know thinks Robin has a pet dog and her parents are like. We think it's actually Steve's dog but it likes Robin more and she is more of a cat person but she loves This Dog in particular.

Also. Eddie having a compulsion to dig through everyone's stuff including dirty laundry piles and trash. And Eddie accidentally instinctively washing his weed and being like. Oh shit. Shouldn't have done that.

[auspicioustidings]

Satin and Lace

Summary: You have been abducted by pirates under the command of Captain Philip Graves.

Word Count: 2.4k

CW: None I don't think other than this being a complete crackfic AU

Captain Graves winked at you after making some lewd comment on the swordplay of his crew and it made you huff and point your nose up. It was like you had learned nothing in the last 3 weeks on this ship because immediately boisterous laughter rose up at your attitude. 

"Apologies darlin', forgot we were in the presence of such an esteemed lady" Graves purred.

You found the man insufferable. When you first met he had swept you out of your manor and onto his ship and you had been scared of him. Now? You don't know if the feeling really held. It was clear that his crew loved him and he loved them. He took time out of his day to teach the cabin boys proper sword form, would help in the galley when the sea was calm and it was decided there would be a 'family dinner' with all the crew getting double rations, gave any crew member that came within reach a loving bop on the shoulder or head which they always smiled at. 

So you wouldn't say you were scared of the man as such, if anything you wished he would do something to be more, well, pirate-y. Since stealing you away in the night neither he nor any of his crew had laid a finger on you. They would try to include you in banter sometimes, only laugh when you haughtily refused. But the laughter didn't feel mean. It made some twisted part of you comfortable, like you were being welcomed in to this crew. And that just would not do. 

Pirates were not to be befriended and a lady of your breeding could not simply roll over and let them charm you like this. It was such a temptation though. You hated your life in general, parents both dead, fortune and cold, empty manor left to their only child. There was immense pressure coming from every corner to marry, but the thought of letting some man only after your title and fortune stamp his last name on you before climbing inside your skin made you nauseous. It got worse with every caller, each of them thinking you stupider and weaker than the last. 

You knew you had garnered somewhat of a reputation now. The nickname whispered around the social circles had made you see red the first time you had heard it, but you had kept composure as always. 'The Unplucked Rose'. Reduced to a beautiful thing to be picked by those vultures, tittering away about how your thorns were only for show but your petals would surely be soft and delicate for any man to touch. The worst part of the whole thing was that they said it as a compliment, as if being beautiful for men was the greatest thing you could ever aspire to be. As if wilting with age before being plucked would be some tragedy. 

Here though? On this ship? Not one of the Shadow crew had ever made you feel the way high society had. They viewed your carefully composed airs and graces with humour, as if it was easy for them to see right through you to your heart that yearned to be able to relax for once, not always be poised. 

You had thought to be difficult for the Captain when you first set foot on the ship, demanding the best cabin if they were going to abduct you. He had only affirmed that of course you would get the best of everything and given you his cabin, provided ample dresses, made sure him and Oz always served you the best food the galley could provide. You thought that meant he would sleep with you, but he moved his sleeping arrangements to be with his men. It was confusing everything you knew about pirates.

Maybe you could relax, just a little. Nothing world shattering, but would it be so terrible to try and at least enjoy what you could of captivity? You weren't even sure how long you would be here or where they were taking you, this could all end tomorrow and then wouldn't you feel silly for choosing to be miserable the whole time?

"Oh I don't know Captain, with the way Oz and Lerch are holding those swords it seems you have always had a number of ladies on this ship."

The look that Graves gave you was as close to sin as you had ever seen. The slow smile at finally catching sight of you, the real you, not the creature of satin and lace that you constantly had to hide under, made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

"Kitten finally gets her claws out!" Oz laughed and when you looked over you saw he had changed too. He was clearly delighted with this little surrender on your part, coming over to ruffle your hair. 

You immediately started to smack his hand away, ending up in somewhat of a play fight as he continued to try and ruffle. 

"Watch out, they say that cats hiss before they attack" Lerch laughed, making colour rise to your cheeks at the realisation you were practically hissing at the the First Mate. Then you were laughing too. God, you were laughing and it felt wonderful.

You were sure that you forgot how to breathe when a steady hand landed on your waist, pulling you gently away from Oz. Graves was so close to you now, smiling easily as if holding you like this wasn't absolutely scandalous in your eyes. God, you were not even allowed alone in the same room as a man never mind having one close enough that you could smell the gunpowder off of his skin. 

"Now now, leave our little lady be. Not her fault she's got eyes enough to see how bad y'all are with swordplay."

The others laughed and the Captain escorted you back to your quarters, crooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head to him.

"You be careful darlin' or I'm liable to do something foolish" he whispered, his voice booth husky and somehow smooth in your ears.

When his thumb brushed your bottom lip you found yourself wide eyed and leaning towards him. He smiled at you. He smiled at you and not that creature of satin and lace. When was the last time you had felt seen by anyone? This pirate was going to kiss you and oh how you yearned for it. 

But he only firmly pressed his thumb and finger to make your head tilt back down and pressed his lips to your forehead before fixing your hair, hand eventually settling to caress the side of your face.

"Your to be husband would have my head if he knew how I felt about you" he said with a wry smile, "if he knew I got to hear that beautiful laugh of yours. Got to know how you like the colour blue because it reminds you of the sea, how I could tell because you always pick the blue dresses when it's storming outside and you can't go on deck and look out. Think he'd not be inclined to forgive me seeing that pretty blush of yours when we're hauling ropes and you think we ain't looking. The pretty blush you have now."

You were entirely certain your heartbeat must be visible now with how it thumped against your ribcage like a wild bird thrashing to get out. 

"Husband?" you asked, voice barely a breath at this point. 

Graves' smile took on some taste of melancholy you did not care for at all as his hand dropped from your cheek before he took a step back.

"Rightfully should have been with him a week or more ago, but seems my Shadows have been coming up with all sorts of ways to delay the voyage. Galley saying they need provisions, bosun telling me we need maintenance, First Mate insisting we go around the weather. You'll get to meet him in two days if the weather holds. He heard about you, apparently you are all anyone talks about on land. Don't look so scared darlin', he's not a bad man. Worked with him for a time actually, back before I was a Captain. He traded in a life of piracy for something more legitimate, practically owns the whole island we're dropping you off at."

You knew that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes and you hated it. You wanted to scream and rage. This was why you had been on this ship for 3 weeks? Someone had bought you, paid Graves to pick you up and deliver you.  Composure, always composure. You shut the door, he would not see you cry.

--

You knew that cannons were supposed to be loud, but this was deafening. You were aware something was happening from the ringing of the bell and the fact that Velikan had thrown open the door to the cabin to make sure you were inside and then promptly locked himself in with you, standing ready by the door with his sword. You had always found the man in the demon mask fascinating, he didn't talk but he had carved a little bird and given it to you during your first week on the ship. Right now he was terrifying. 

He wouldn't even acknowledge you when you tried to ask what was going on, and then the cannon fire had started and you were thrown out of the bed. The wooden floor was not kind to you and you knew you would have bruises if you made it out of this alive. A short bark of laughter erupted from you at the thought that you may die in the bedroom of a pirate Captain in nothing but your night gown.

When another blow rocked the ship the noise suddenly intensified and you felt your stomach lurch as gravity fell away. There was envelopment in a deep cold, your name being screamed, and then nothing.

--

"Jesus bonnie, gave us a right fright! There ye are, yer ok."

You didn't feel ok, you felt like you were about to hack up a lung. When you shot up to do so you smashed into the head of the man that was leaning over you, him giving a short howl of pain before sitting back and laughing. You didn't have your wits fully about you to try and figure out what was going on, the only thing you could do was have a massive coughing fit, eased somewhat by a warm hand rubbing your back. 

"Hey it's ok. You're safe. My name is Kyle Garrick, I'm Royal Navy. And don't worry about Soap over there, most of the girls he kisses head butt him" said the man rubbing at your back. Soap had added a 'sort of, not really' after he had said Royal Navy. 

Looking around the deck of the new ship you were now on they at least did look more like officers and less like pirates if you ignored the one in a full one skull mask. You found it didn't really scare you having gotten used to men in masks over the past few weeks.

As Kyle sat you up he draped a blanket around you which you politely thanked him for through chattering teeth. Oh if only high society could see you now, night gown soaked through and clinging to your skin in a way that hid nothing.

"Captain Price" said a handsome man, going to a knee and shaking your hand with a steady smile that felt comforting. He was older than you, but young to be a Captain you thought. Then again, so was Graves. "You've had quite the ordeal. Given where the Shadows were heading, we think they were taking you to Kortac. It's an island about a days sail from here, but you don't have to worry. We'll get you home."

When the Captain went to stand you felt a sudden rush of something. A dam breaking. You leapt after him, grabbing his arm as tightly as you could. 

"I don't want to go home" you cried. After that you couldn't stop the tears, couldn't do anything about the words spilling out. You hated home. You wanted to stay on the sea where people saw you as more than what you had to pretend to be. You could not go back and attend parties and laugh politely when the insidious gossips made suggestions about what you may have experienced on a pirate ship. You thought you might die if the assumption that you were impure by their standards emboldened men to touch you without your permission. You wanted to be able to laugh again.

But you knew it was a lost battle. They said they were Royal Navy, they were hardly going to do anything but take you back to your manor. For what felt like hours the only sounds were the gentle lapping of the waves, the creaking of the ship and your sobs.

"The only people who know she's here are us, the Shadows and once they tell him König" said the man with the skull mask.

"Aye. The big man'll come for her. And I saw Phil's face when she went in the water, he'll come for her too. If it hadnae been me diving in there and pulling her onboard think he wouldnae have ran. He'd have stayed and fought even if it meant losing his ship and everyone on it."

You held the blanket tight around you, still on your knees and looking at the four men on the deck above you trying to figure out what they were suggesting. The Captain looked at you with a furrowed brow, some emotion you couldn't pinpoint passing over his face before he nodded and then looked to the skull mask man, the two of them walking off into the ship. 

You were confused as Kyle helped you to your feet with a grin.

"You'll need to wear some of my clothes until we can stop at a port and get you something better" he said.

"And dinae worry, we'll teach ye swordplay. That way when König and Graves come, ye can show them a thing or two" Soap added with a grin of his own.

When it hit you that you were staying you couldn't help but throw yourself at them in a tight embrace. Time to find out who the real you was.

[puppsworld]

midnight ghoul posting!!! My updated design for Swiss as our lovely model for multi ghoul hcs!! (under the cut)

Multi ghouls are the only non-hybrid species that don't live in big packs! Multi ghouls, unlike base elemental ghouls (air, water, fire, etc), are not "naturally occurring" and often happen when two separate ghoul species have a kit (i.e. Swiss's parents were a fire and air ghoul)!

Because of their multi-elemental nature, they more commonly have what most ghouls call a "double". Swiss here has a double tail, meaning it forks at the tip. Other ghouls can have forked tongues, an extra set of horns called a "crown", or even extra eyes. They can also have what Swiss has, with "branch hair". It's similar to cats having whiskers, and they act as sensory receptors. Quintessence hair for the win, yknow?

They can often be found solo hunting or in smaller groups often referred to as bands of non multis (around 4-12 ghouls, as opposed to a pack; which can be up to 20 ghouls). They're often ousted from their birth pack once they're big enough to fend for themselves.

They're mostly self sufficient, as they're opportunistic detritivores (meaning they mostly eat carrion/rotting food (think: vultures or buzzards/crows)), thought they're obligate carnivores, meaning they can eat detritus to survive, but require meat to meet their dietary needs. They're considered parasitic when in groups with other ghouls, as they often rely on their band members to catch food.

I think multis and water ghouls are my most thought out ghouls tbh. and we're not even into the hybrid category yet haha

Ok thats all, baiiiii

[bogusboxed]

Boxtobier ⊗ Day 2

"The Big Picture.”

Pairing: Helen Otis X GN!Reader

Theme: “Forbidden Love." & "Family, Friends, Love Ones."

Rating: (PG-15+)

Words: 6k

Trigger Warning(s): Brief Vulgar Language, Minor Mentions Of Criminal Deviance, Depictions Of Gore, and Psychological Disturbance.

This is recommended for ages fifteen and up; reader discretion is advised. The rights to this character, "Bloody Painter," fully belong to DeluCat.

This is a fictional, harmless piece of writing; do not incorporate it into your daily life.

Tom E. Stevens is not a real person, he's fully fictional and only serves as a reference from Bloody Painter’s original story. Any correlation to real victims is NOT intentional.

The breeze was glacial against your warm-blooded skin; it bit your nose with a numbing sharpness. You should’ve worn more layers in this type of climate, but you were in a hurry, which led to skipping a few steps in your typical routine.

Your brass keys jingled around like golden bells attached to a decorative holiday ribbon. They created an off-putting metronome sound when they clattered viciously against the steel buckle. 

Your mind adapted to the noise, senselessly focusing on the sparkly ring. But, still, you pulled yourself from it, fighting it.

You tried your best to keep your head straight by prioritizing the need to reach the building because only the vultures knew how dangerous this line of work could be.

You couldn't help but question your choices from months ago because if you knew what you know now, you wouldn’t have signed up for that internship.

Working tirelessly alongside the forensic department had taken a toll on your health unlike anything else. Currently, your body felt like shit, as if every limb had been yanked from its socket, resembling the way taffy is stretched beyond recognition.

You stiffly shifted your back, feeling the aches rise and fall in an agonizing unorganized harmony. You let out a bottomless exhale, the puff of warmth diffusing in the tempered winds.

You hated clocking in earlier than what was ordered, but you also knew the piles of work they had planned out for you. So it’d just be better to get it over with at dawn and have plenty of "free time" during the day.

However, yesterday, you hadn’t been as clever and had to fight the collisions of cars. What was even worse than that was the fact you came in late, barely having the proper time to study the files.

But what was weirder was the number of cases.

Over the months, winter had finally broken out, and when it did, so did the bodies. They practically doubled in the short time frame, heightening, unlike any other season. 

But it wasn’t anything you could control; you could only try to prevent it.

It was bleak; your fingers felt lifeless, suffering from the hazardously low temperatures. Your lungs were repressed, taking subtle amounts of polar oxygen inward.

Breathing seemed to only bring a sub-zero chill, dulling your system in a torturous manner.

Your watery eyes caught a detailed glimpse of the illuminated station a few meters away from you. Uniform glass windows lined the front. Icy white spiderwebs seemed to dust the rims, only having the middle of each glass plane defrosted.

The light beige building was around two stories high and was more expansive than a typical station due to housing an accompanying forensic department.

You tilted your head at the closer police cars, which were lined right at the front. The vehicles were predominantly white, marked with bold and contrasting black and blue stripes running along their sides.

A tinge of envy surged through your veins, with the wish you didn’t have an entire marathon to walk each time you went to work. Passing the oversized rides, you followed the guiding light closer to the department.

Powdery snow crunched under your soles, compacting with each movement. Every step sounded high-pitched, squeaking like a dog toy. The wintery molecules had recently fallen, barely printed on by animals or other people.

Unfortunately, though, you were leaving tracks with the way you moved your figure. 

You didn’t feel secure being this out in the open, especially with the surrounding area’s reputation. A warm light glowed from the windows, refracting onto the concrete sidewalk you walked on. 

Safety was near.

You should’ve been more attentive to your surroundings instead of beelining it straight to base. But you’d rather speed up than patiently get hypothermia from the Alaskan air.

Moving your weight at a timely pace, you soon made quick work of the built-in parking lot. But it wasn’t just the Fahrenheit that made you move this way; it was the added pressure of the latest murders.

The fresh kills from the man on the loose—his existence was blowing up on the internet. Hundreds were prying at the case, no matter how much your local department tried to keep it under wraps.

Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for some thirsty news articles to try to dig too deep. But this instance was different because the officials knew he stayed in one spot, and they didn't need the public to scare him off to another city.

However, in your personal opinion, he’d gotten worse. Not in the way he became clumsier, but in the way he’d gotten smarter. Because now he was starting to grasp the concept of covering up his tracks.

For the past three months, you've seen multiple carcasses.

It wasn’t anything new to see animalistic amounts of chewed-out corpses daily. But these recently submitted physiques always had one horrifying thing in common with one another.

An extended incision two inches right below the jaw.

The likeness of each mark always left an abyssal pang in the roots of your abdomen. Forcing you to churn and gush profusely, like all your acids had come together to form a nauseating butter.

Though it wasn’t like you weren’t prepared for this, you’d trained for months in college, studying what you could. Because essentially, you had sold your soul to the corporations. So in your mind, it was for the best to just stay reticent about your discomfort.

But, still. The imagery of the wounds was haunting. You were sure that if you were asked to recall how the incision appeared, you’d have no trouble.

Because the cut was always the same.

Why did it have to be the same every fucking time, and why couldn’t you get used to it? It was just a slice above the collarbone and below the human mandible.

It wasn’t like their head had been blown to bits.

The repetition, however, was appalling. You couldn’t accept that someone out there liked the fluency and the never-ending pattern left. Did they know how it kept you up at night? Could they ever reflect on how personal each cut felt? 

Did they even have the capacity to comprehend the hole they left in the lives of those they harmed? Or maybe this is what they wanted. To make others feel like shit? 

You just wished the mercy of the world could spare you and take away this aching remorse. You exhaled, the weight of your thoughts having the same drag of an anchor. 

It was difficult to be at ease, though the closure you brought to families seemed to help.

Your dense shoes felt like they were grating against the battered concrete. Every simple scrape seemed ten times more deafening than it was. To say you were on edge would’ve been a heinous understatement.

You kept your digits stuffed in your layered pockets, no longer wanting to contend with the arctic currents. You felt your body at work, trying its best to keep you thawed and snugly toasted.

With preferable timing, you had finally completed your route.

You could feel a different torridity, leaving the parking lot unscathed. Swiftly, you began your brief climb up the compressed staircase. 

You swore you didn’t need the handrails, forcing your figure to prance up the case without the added support. In the back of your mind, you knew that if you clutched onto them, you’d only get frostbite or an open, rusty lesion on your palm.

Following the gleaming lights, you hunted down the entrance of the building. 

Pastry beige walls and reflective, frosted-tipped windows made most of your peripherals. Your eyes devoured the sight with the knowledge that you wanted nothing else but to be inside.

Silently, you merged, heading to the entrance of the department. 

Your plush, silky lanyard bounced with each quick action, and in no time, you found yourself standing in front of the lackluster glass door. Your heated breath fogged up the float glass while you humanly debated whether or not to doodle shapes on the surface.

But you unwillingly compelled yourself to move on to more pressing matters. After a few seconds of inner turmoil, you begrudgingly retracted your hands from your fleece cavities. With your balmy clutches, you invaded the sleek metal door handle.

With an unenthusiastic heave, you hauled open the burdensome door.

A flushed breeze tenderly nuzzled your visage, completely changing your groggy attitude that’d grown from the bitterness of the cold. Taking a few unnoticeable steps inward, you let go of the door.

The heft of the gate automatically sealed the space back up, enclosing the heat from the ruthless outside.

You had no more icy waves to come crashing down on you. So, you felt the lack of need to shield your skin; taking a brief gluttonous puff of well-tempered air, you could faintly taste the macchiato that was lingering.

The smell felt almost stereotypical in the way it reverberated off each wall. You hated to admit just how many of those movies were right about the police.

Getting back on target, you looked around the foyer, and as always, it wasn’t anything special. The room was semi-upper-class, having fancy connecting hallways, an undersized reception desk, and a cramped, cheap waiting room.

Along the barren, pale walls lay a handful of plastic chairs, a box for dropping off prescription drugs, and overly artificial plants. The department strived to make the place look as welcoming as possible, but it mostly came off as out of touch and condescending.

Turning your attention to the cut-off front desk, you saw a distant coworker. Her face was slim, enhanced with sculpture-like features. A rich mixed skin tone painted her and only brightened her overall beautiful complexion.

However, what stood out most was her blinding, superstitious golden badge titling her "Lt Sara."

She currently seemed to be diligently managing inquiries and various calls. Though you’d heard various rumors of what she did before, she joined the department. (Something along the lines of British special forces?)

A dense panel of plexiglass seemed to cage the mid-toned operator inside. She didn’t pay you much mind, keeping to herself; her rich, murky eyes seemed to be glued to her rather expensive work-issued laptop.

You decided not to put your nose where it didn’t belong, ignoring your deepening innocence to ask what she was typing. 

Taking a few fleeting steps toward your branch, pitter-patter-like footsteps began to tap throughout the once-muted room. Humbly walking, you were perceptive to the irritating buzzing of the incandescent lightbulb above.

Management should’ve changed it out weeks ago upon regulation, but who could arrest literal law enforcement?

Step by step, the stillness of the fruitless office was betrayed by the sound of parroting taps. The department seemed desolate and liminal in the sense that you were the only one creating any commotion.

It was almost uncanny how much the towering walls were devoid of life.

You kept your posture professional, keeping an unrushed pace down the enclosed hallway. Neutral-colored file cabinets were mindlessly lined, seeming to camouflage with the chipped beige wall. You took your regulated turns, passing by the same identifiable tables, worn-out navy chairs, and other miscellaneous decor.

You could feel a slight burning sensation in your nose, probably caused by the over-the-top cleaning supplies the facility always used.

You wordlessly questioned the janitors on why they put their entire heart into their job, but you only found yourself wishing you could have the same enthusiasm as them.

Your shoes clicked on the polished, stony-colored tiles as your eyes traced down the doors carved on either side. You glazed over multiple shiny labels, all too familiar to you at this point.

You couldn’t count on one hand the number of times you’d seen these signs. The time you spent here seemed to blur together at this point.

Who knew an internship could be this catastrophic?

The walls only seemed to bring you closer and closer to your destination, with every ridge of the painted-over brick wall now recognizable. Pursuing your common area, the doors began to seem to become more robust and excessive compared to the previous.

However, it wasn’t anything too shocking given that all the information locked inside those rooms was highly sought after. However, what was surprising was that interns (college kids) had access to some pretty sensitive records.

Speaking of your rookie classmates, they unfortunately recruited yet another intern, and worse, they were assigned to sit right next to you. Funnily enough, that was one of the reasons you got here so early.

As of right now, your desk looked like the result of a hurricane, and it didn’t help that you used the once-vacant desk next to you for storage. You internally cringed, caught up in the swirly emotion that’d be their initial impression of you.

You let out a swallow exhale upon recollection. Hopefully, they weren’t going to be the verbal bane of your existence, pestering you with lackluster questions all year.

Focusing once more, you reached for your silky, smooth lanyard. Fingers fumbled looking for your QR code identification card, given with the lowest human access possible.

You slouched downward, folding yourself. You took the sturdy card and pressed it against the laser sensor. Having pressed the densely laminated plastic against the puny square-shaped metal box, the door made a short beep.

Your hands briskly moved to the glistening door handle, now heaving it down with no resistance. A click came from the frame, letting you know the hardened lock had finally released its restless hold.

Soon, you wedged yourself inside the room, shutting the high-tech door behind you with a thunderous thump. Luminous fluorescent lighting helped to display the expansive classroom.

The space featured a variety of lengthy, soulless desks, placed as close as they could be to one another. While accompanying cheap plastic chairs were uniformly paired underneath each table. Files seemed to be anchored in stacks close to the windows, which were curtained by opaque sheets.

It was almost childish the amount of priceless work just lazily left out. Your eyes scanned the trivial room again, passing various foreign areas until you shadowed your own.

You paused.

Nothing was missing, and that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the man nonchalantly working between the brochures you left on your previous shift, and if things couldn’t get worse, you recognized him.

This wasn’t just any typical guy, however. This was the college’s award-winning artist, Helen Otis. (Someone whom you found yourself admiring a little too much.) 

You’d seen his works plenty of times, each one better than the last. You didn’t know how many art competition trophies he had tucked under his belt, and you didn't know how he had so much room for them.

Sweat was building under your metaphoric shirt collar, leaving you wanting to pull it like a cartoon character. Out of everybody, why'd it have to be him? However, even with the distaste bubbling in your mouth, you could still sense a puppy-like heart race thumping in your chest.

During the years you’d been in school with him, he’d always been a recluse. He had never been the type to do a vast presentation or be among big social groups. But he had been the art kid, inaudibly crafting away in a scenic spot where no one would bother him.

Though it was still surprising, you’d never thought he would be the one to take up this line of work. You always thought he’d do something more along the lines of comical animation or abstract commissions.

But here he was at your doorstep, doing the same thing he always did: wordlessly painting strokes on a page.

Even though he wasn’t paying you any mind, you felt yourself appreciating his personal portrait. You knew neither of you had spoken to the other throughout your college years, but still, some idiotic part of you found his mysterious aura appealing.

From his murky ink tuft of hair to his cerulean stone-shaded eyes, all his facial features seem to drag you further like a fish to a hook, line, and sinker.

If your heart hadn’t been auctioned away for his looks already, his personality had to be the nail in the coffin. He was hushed and polite, always mindful of those around him with a tranquil gaze plastered on his face.

All these things combined made it unfathomable to wonder why he was in such a gruesome line of work.  He never did seem capable of harm; at least that’s what you thought.

At the moment, you found yourself fixating on him more than you should’ve, promptly getting lured in by the bait of his serene features. But you hastily shut that down, making it imperative to keep it strictly professional.

All he was was your co-worker who incidentally resided right next to your seat, and it was no big deal; he was just a fresh hire, and that’s all these feelings were. (Keep telling yourself that.)

You shuffled yourself further in. Each step felt like a chain and cannonball attached to your ankle, dragging you down from getting any further. You took an unnoticeable puff before giving in to your sullen movements.

Your shoes barely squeaked on the flat, tiled flooring, efficiently making it to your spot. You did everything in your power to ignore him, which proved difficult when he was now in front of you. Though, thankfully, he didn’t seem to peer up from his current task. 

You subtly began taking the diverse portfolios you abandoned the night before and neatly placing them in a lanky stack on your side. Cautiously, you continued to take back your leftovers, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions about your actions.

Luckily for you, each rustling you made was always covered by either a light tap or an oppressive rub back and forth. Pages of newer and older cases grazed your plushy palms as you needily grabbed them covertly.

The scent of vanilla seemed to leak out of the paper each time you ruffled it onto the stack. Your eyes tracked your borrowed files as you mindlessly counted their shared total.

Once you finally piled all of your belongings onto the corner of your desk, you seized a few files from the top, taking out an oh-so-familiar beige folder. Even with how flimsy the printer paper was, it still managed to send a falling sensation deep into your intestines.

Because the case inside had to be one of the most extreme and unsettling you'd seen in a while.

Taking a hasty breath outward, you knew you had a job to do, and you knew that involved making a move. Your emotions were all wack, both agitated by the folder and anxious by Helen.

But restlessly, you still made a move against the odds.

The chair creaked naturally under the sudden weight, adding even more layers to the need to die. You hate this feeling. You hated that the one person you found interest in was sitting this close to you.

You didn’t know why every breath you took felt like an arrow spearing your heart—was it him? Was it the case? Or was it a mix of both?

Being immobilized by gushy chords, the graphite scratching next to you came to a momentary halt before swiftly returning to its ordinary irregular pattern. The pause left a prickly ache and an immeasurable abyss in your soppy organs.

Snapping out of the abnormal haze, you made it mandatory to remember that, at the end of the day, this was an internship. A job that both of you didn't want, and if you did, neither of you intended to be sociable (specifically him).

You got back on track; your hands glided more rigorously on your pivotal file; delicately, you unfolded the restricted document. The folder had a presentation page, making it seem more personalized and human than it was.

In a blueish-black color, a jagged handwritten name embellished the originally empty soulless template.

“Tom E. (Enzo) Stevens.”

You found yourself drowning in thought on the marked page. He was relatively close in age to you, lived in the same area, and for an unbeknownst reason to you, that title rang a bell. You could’ve sworn you’d heard it before, but yet again, that name wasn’t all that unique.

In regards to his death, it was virtually the same as the rest of the victims. He had the staple of the slit two inches below his jaw, but instead of his corpse being on display for the world to see, he’d been shoved off the sixth floor of an apartment complex (that wasn’t too far from your college).

Tom’s death was rushed in comparison and was not nearly as time-intensive as the others. The report drew it down to the realization of eyewitnesses, and if he had taken any longer, the law would've caught up to him.

Interestingly enough, a few regular drunks had seen the man’s figure on the building minutes before the murder, and due to this, it caused his biggest slip-up yet.

Unfortunately, they all made a few vastly different statements, going from brown to blue hair, then to pale to dark skin. 

But there happened to be one consistent variable: they said without a doubt he’d worn a paper-mache mask that'd been laced with a crimson grin.

Flipping the page, you are greeted with degraded photos of distinct items. Each object picture had mini-notes stapled underneath it, indicating what evidence was linked to it. 

You examined each sunburnt print systematically, trying to find any correlation between them, but to no avail. You leafed pages. You spent more time thoroughly inspecting each discolored paragraph. Your glistening eyes traced each victim and the corresponding articles that died along with them.

You could feel the air trapped in your throat as you swallowed faintly. The similarities, the rate, and the age ran shivers up your spine.

You were more than a perfect candidate.

You were shaken up by the realization. Your breath was off its typical route; you prevailed and kept a stone-cold demeanor. The chances of you being caught and killed by the murderer were low, (but never zero).

You just had to be strong; you had to be for this field of work. No matter how your hands twitched, you needed to find that strength for the people who couldn’t.

Browsing through the thin pages, you could sense something was off. You were missing something from the case. You skimmed through the entire folder once more before you put your finger on it.

You were missing the composite drawings.

Your mind readily changed from the haunting cases to the fellow peer next to you. Inches away, and you’d get your answer, but you weren’t sure how to ask, considering he shouldn’t have been messing with that folder in the first place.

Your curiosity brushed itself against you like a cat; you needed to know if he had it before, you started to panic. It wasn’t like you were asking for a pencil you’d never return; you were asking for the missing drawings on a report. 

This was serious, and you had to take it that way, no matter how accusing it felt. You turned from your desk to his. He smelled of graphite; its earthy and metallic aroma clouded up his station.

He seemed to be completely immersed in his work like he was in an altered reality of his own. The more seconds that flew by, the more you realized how lost in his artistry he was. You considered speaking up, not realizing he’d already noticed you in his peripherals.

As you began to open your mouth, he exhaled, stopping his precise charcoal brushing.

“Yes?”

He kept his voice conservative, not raising his tone above a whisper.

His digits remained intertwined with the slender soot utensils. He began to subtly tap at his wooden desk with the edge point like he was counting the seconds between each of your shared words.

Though he kept his face sharp and still, like an unmarked canvas.

“Do you know where the Bloody Painter composite drawings are? My folder seems to be missing them." You exhaled your words, trying to be as cushy as possible and not seem interrogative.

His melodic clicks ceased, and his clench on the pencil faltered. His pallid features stayed remote, trying to ignore the swift glint that glowed in his somber eyes.

“I took them from your file earlier this morning for reference. I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were confidential.” Tragically enough, you were unperceptive to the inflection in his voice.

He soon turned his wooden pencil horizontally, gently caressing the wood. He dotted his sea creature's eyes with yours. He seemed to search for yours like a pirate on a treasure-ridden island.

“You’re with forensic arts, right?” The second you began to speak, he retracted his vision back down to the smooth, polished floor.

He allowed the conversation to grow dry, mindlessly making his leg bounce his weight. “Mhm.”

You felt your chest being squeezed. You didn’t mean to mess up his art session, but you needed the composite drawings back before you could return the folder to the officials.

Your eyes traveled down from the side of his head, down to his triangular jaw, and then to the papers scattered on his side of the table. A certain sketch, however, stuck out to you; it varied in hues of charcoal and was dented with professional marks.

He looked around his late twenties, having semi-long strands of dark pecan hair framing his face. His eyes were dull, unlit with a murky, mud-like shade.

“Are those the composite drawings?”

An acute exhale came from his side as he now entirely rotated himself from his work to you. He didn’t keep his eyes locked on you, but he seemed more engaged, having a light rose tinted at the height of his cheeks.

He allowed the words to sink in: “Not exactly. They’re only my interpretation.”

You briefly hummed while he spoke, continuing to stare at his overly perfect works of art. It was immaculate. Of course, it didn’t compare much to the other pieces that he had full liberty over, but still, it was unbeatable.

“They look so good, though; you’re extremely talented,” you complimented, not knowing how your eyes sparkled when appreciating the craftsmanship.

Your words were more than honest and the exact thing you were thinking, but you hadn’t taken into account how he’d react to something like that. You silently huffed; he’d probably heard it a million times before, but you couldn’t help it.

Unannounced to you, he’d been gazing at you directly (for once) with no sign of retreat. Helen was taking in your eyes, and the way they glistened was full of reverence. He found himself soaking in it. He’d heard plenty of praise for his arts before, but the way you looked set the sail.

He’d need to sketch that later for better practice. He made some effort to take a detailed mental photo of it.

Stupidly enough, he stayed idly facing you, studying your features. Time passed easily, and you glanced back instinctively. He smoothly flicked his sight right back to his personal (inaccurate) composite drawing.

Unknown to him, his posture recoiled and formed an unhealthy "C," which was odd compared to his typical ruler-straight stance.

“Thank you," he gritted his teeth; like he was offended, the words even dared to come out of his mouth.

A smile found its way to your face. He was grateful that he enjoyed your appreciation, even with how passive-aggressive it seemed. You could see yourself becoming friends (or more) with Helen if he went any further with forensics.

You pulled away from your unusual lovey-dovey behavior, getting back on topic. “You do have the originals, right?”

He seemed taken aback, his once pensive expression leaving you. He tampered with his pencil; he pressed his fingers on the wood. His eyes now seemed fixated on a distant point.

He reformed his gentlemanly persona, trying not to lose concentration on the purpose of this conversation. “I do.”

You didn’t know what to make of his current wreck of emotions, but you decided he was just having a rough morning. Though you didn’t like how his interest fled again, you didn’t mention it, but you just wished he hadn’t deserted the conversation.

Helen moved his figure, reaching toward the feeble stack of paper centimeters away from him. His delicate fingers began flipping through assorted works and notes, trying to track down the originals.

The light of the class-like room reflected on his furrowed expression, highlighting his brow bone. The sound of rustling and separation seemed to recite throughout the room as you patiently waited for results.

He gradually made his way to an inked-out document, his facial features wavering. 

You could see a darkly printed facade of someone’s face. It must’ve been the original, going on the new assumption that the department didn’t trust college students to not fuck with the authentic piece. Maybe they were fearful that they’d spill something on it or try to steal it to sell on eBay.

He assertively separated any remaining sticking papers before hastily handing you the official print.

You respectfully put on an artificial professional smile, being polite to the artist. As for rule-breaking, his decision was for unintentionally stealing the reprint; you decided against reporting him to the higher-ups.

He was passionate, with an amiable soul and a gullible desire to redraw composite drawings. Sure, he was naive, putting his nose where it didn’t belong, but you couldn’t fault him.

He was just an overzealous painter, and that was all.

Your sight indeliberately flocked back to his side, mindlessly trying to ensure yourself that you hadn’t forgotten anything else. You glanced over a few pencils, pens, and squishy erasers before seeing a different, tougher sheet of paper featuring a distinctive man's physique.

It was a spot-on illustration of the lengthy description you had received of the Tom S. case. Just how much had he looked into your assigned folder? The peculiar portrait could’ve been compared to his actual face; it was uncanny how close he’d gotten your mental image of Tom on paper.

“That’s a drawing of Tom, right? From Tom Steven's murder?” You found yourself intrigued more and more by his virtuosity.

You speculated on the time Helen had lost to etching out victims from the infamous “Bloody Painter” case. You understood he was a part of the forensics art department, but how much graphic painting could one take? Plus, it seemed out of character for him to drain his morning by willingly outlining something that gruesome.

There was a wordless pause as your eyes watched one of his knees buck up and down at a similar, relentless pace. You could feel a pit of solicitude gush in your lower abdomen as if you had crossed a line. That case must’ve struck a nerve, and having to draw the victim probably made the distaste in his throat more drastic.

He had a short, delayed response to your words, losing his energy to keep this chatter going. “Yeah.” 

You tilted your head while studying the image’s graphics further. There seemed to be a vital mistake, leaving the drawing inaccurate and fruitless. While most of it had been on point, even having an abbreviated listing of how he was killed, Helen still managed to miss one important factor.

The constant marking, the slit that was supposed to be under his jaw

You wanted to keep it to yourself; you really did, but something in your soul ticked. You thought it over a few times, but it was futile as your compulsive behaviors made the words leak from your mouth.

“You forgot something. Bloody Painter left a laceration two inches under his jaw before pushing him off."

Like a magnet to a refrigerator, he snapped his sights back to his drawing. His neverending cavern of navy blue eyes thoroughly inspected his graphite marks. His salmon lips parted, charcoal eyebrows pressing against one another.

You knew it could’ve come off tedious and knit-picky, but you couldn’t help that nagging feeling that he’d appreciate your insight.

As you closed the space between you both to provide further aid on the unnecessary addon, he brought his attention to you. His dangerous mako eyes locked onto yours, making you feel stuck in an inescapable trance.

This was the first time he’d made eye contact with you.

He hummed one unnoticeable syllable that resembled a “hm” as he leaned an inch closer with the intent to absorb every word that came out of you. A clear indication of how deeply engaged he was.

Now that the spotlight and praise were on you, you couldn’t seem to do anything like a person getting stage fright in front of an impressive crowd.

You felt your body linger on autopilot. No person could handle this stimulation; at least that's what it felt like due to the chemicals pumping through your body. There was no need to react like this, but here you were at the mercy of his prestigious eyes.

Harboring and pleading your jittery breath away, you failed to take note of his defined hand nonchalantly creeping up on your mandible.

“Something like this?”

His pointer and middle were soon firmly planted against your flesh-covered artery. You could feel the pressure build on your sensitive throat, leaving a valley caused by his callous fingers. By this point, you were sure he could feel the way your pulse battered out of your chest.

The only solution to this was that he must’ve been a visual learner. That was the only viable explanation, but still, you found yourself warm to the touch. The air shared felt solid, palpable, and able to be cut. 

But being so intertwined with your own cords of emotions, your brain glossed over the fact that he was pressed precisely where the killer always cut.

“Yeah, something like that." Your words fumbled over one another, not being able to tell if he could sense the tension he inadvertently created.

A mischievous smile was firmly tucked into his features. But before you could even pry into his preceding actions, a heightened beep buzzed from his pocket. He instantly backed his hand away from your neck, letting it rest on his thigh.

His light appearance was brought down by a sudden weight as he withdrew a slick gray phone. You caught a glimpse of the vibrating screen as he haphazardly let it ring.

"Masky. (Ignore if possible.)”

He huffed as his skinny face expeditiously contorted into a solemn deadpan. His leg went right back to a musically animated bounce before leaving your proximity.

He dragged the cellular device to his ear; his sight darted down to you with a velvety expression and whispered, "Sorry– I’ll be back.”

You reverted to your senses, getting back into gear. You affirmed him instantaneously with a nod. His mood was upended by your assuring movement as he departed from your shared space, heading for somewhere more secluded.

Once his presence dissipated, you fully accepted the circumstances. Your breath was still uneven, and you even felt way too comfortable in your once-itchy chair. Your flushed state progressively cleared up; however, you were still bubbly from the previous altercation.

Without much thought, your perception picked up on the Tom Stevens illustration once more. You didn’t notice it previously, but there was a creative liberty added to his special composite.

A tattoo. You didn’t recall the description ever stating he had an emblem on his collarbone.

Especially one with an O and an X.

-

Written By: Verdana. (bogusbox)

Beta [Alpha] Reader: Sara. (tobyskitten342)

Mentions: @flufftober & @tobyskitten342

A/N: It's been proofread :D

-

[ksenya-and-the-artistic-cucumber]

Co-op with @shkika ft. my lil bro ^^

Mega finally gets to experience the explodey scug (at the price of me getting flung several times)

Image ID in alt! Creature description under cut.

Slug cat (scug) is a slimy sleek creature reminiscent of an otter. They are colorful with dot eyes and nose. Artificer has a scar on it's left eye. Slug pup is a smaller and stockier version, the youth.

Cyan Lizard is a black lizard with clowing cyan eyes, paws, and circular patterns on body, as well as patterned tail. It has long black spikes on it's back and a sturdy square head with horns, with eyes very close to the front.

Scavenger is a monkey-like creature with a lot of spiky fur. It has short legs and very long arms with 4 fingers, as well as a mask or a colored head with horns. They come in many colors, mostly black, brown and gray, but can be brighter like green or blue. Hand and head colors usually match.

Vulture is a beast with a heavy lumpy body, gas thrusters mounted on it, and long wings with inflatable feathers. Wings double as arms for travercing land. It also has a very shott tail or near-useless legs. All vultures wear masks that can be knocked off. Masks are simple upside-down drops with eye holes and with chipped tails to look like fangs.

[halevren]

FHJY Spoilers || my live thoughts as I watch episode 9

i got a new job and I felt sick last night so. I'm watching this very late. it has been tough avoiding spoilers but I Have Done So

TTTAKING OVER TEENAGE REBELLION

hiiii one and all!!! hii intrepid heroes!!!!

i have been told stuff happens this episode. I'm so excited

"You're mad we're not doing drugs."

"I think this might be gorgug's worst day of his life."

so much happened last episode

totally healthy adult activity.

VULTURE

THE SPELL-LESS KRISTEN APPLEBEES 😭😭

THE VULTURE DIMENSION

I love the projections

DOMINATE MONSTER NO LONGER EFFECTING RIZ

THE VULTURE KING

I think Brennan is loving being the vulture king

NAT 20 FOR FABIAN

"IT'S THE VULTURE KING YOU HAVE TO KISS HIM!"

"One answer and it's Riz."

"I'm so glad I died on that battlefield."

A crisp 500 dollar bill

I love this so much

This is so silly

THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS

"Hey, I'll kill you, you fucker." "kiss him!"

VULTURES YAY OR NAY?

"Can you bring his parents up here—" "NO."

"Feels like five"

"You wanna be in our crew?"

Kristen is really trying to get her friends to romance the vultures.

"Are you a God of some kind?" "I don't mind man."

This season is just Brennan breaking the PCs

oh good god

MAGIC ITEMS!

"Summons 1d4 vultures, they are not under your command."

no bring us back to the vulture dimension im obsessed with it

fireball

18 damage 😭😭😭

"I'm going to think about that for days."

FIRST STRIKE HITS REAL ONE

"get out of my yard."

(Brennan rolling too many dice.)

the little fireball that could!

THE ROMAN CANDLE YOU SHOT AT THE BIG BAD

THE BALL GAVE FABIAN ADVANTAGE

Concentration lost 🔥🔥🔥

is Ruben only able to give bardic

BRENNAN NAT 20

what are we making dex saves for.

ZERO DEX SAVE. KRISTEN.

"I'm dead from shame."

ADAINE DOWN? NOOOO

29!!

So many dice for Fabian

"Don't worry I got the ones out guys" Emily 😭😭😭

"I'm actually a huge fan."

so now that grix is destroyed does that mean there's no principal?

Ruben's frantically calling for Wanda

"I'm real right?"

"What happened? I was taking a shit."

"Do you have a warrant? Do you have a fucking warrant?"

Adaine is still dead on the ground

THE IDENTIFY SPELL

grix is untampered with

I miss ayda

29 investigation 🔥

GLOWING STINGERS? GROWING RED? LIKE THE SYNOD?

24 points glowing red

Rage connection!!

"Can we get some hot sauce before we leave?"

HE ATE THE VULTURE FOR NOTHING

"Found another glass of water"

Fabian finally getting his kisses in.

Nat 20 history rat check

SEXY RAT

"You know thats triggering for me!"

Rat stores

"There's not a rat world under the school."

Rat World!!!

BabyBojörn

oh god fig gave Fabian a bardic

sexuality inclusivity for cassandra!

aww..... fabian took bardic from fig earlier...

"You are. Cursed."

RIZ NAT 20!!!!

NOOO YOLANDA

Force damage...

Three hours????

ah yes another use of the identity spell!

"You could multi class into wizard!" "Yeah, add it to the fuckin' pile."

AN UNHOLY LAST RITES

NOOO YOLANDA

There's something under the tree?? glyth???

LUCY FROSTBLADE DEAD BODY

I think Fig's bad luck is genuinely effecting Emily too with all these bad rolls 😭😭😭😭

Did.... Did the rat grinders kill Lucy???????

let adaine use the diamonds. finders keepers

divine intervention........

Kristen will have to work so hard to get cassandra back

spies tongue curse???

"Call an adult?"

"You were such a good teacher, I'm sorry I just got a C..." 😭😭

THIS IS SO HEARTBREAKING!!!

LUCY AND YOLANDA'S SOULS HELD HANDS BEFORE GOING TO HEAVEN. ACTUALLY CRYING

BUD CUBBY THE REALEST EVER

FIG NAT 20

level of exhaustion :(

elmville police departments always on fire

"David..."

AGENT CLARK?!?!?!?

did he just take the dirt like a line of drugs?

one becomes a 10 which becomes a 19

*head in hands* "is it okay if I ask you about your case, mom?"

"So I'm unbelievably wealthy. And me and my friends just discovered the site of a double homicide. So....."

Group IV time, or group shock therapy.

Gorgug putting barbarian first

HE'S DOING ARTIFICER SPELLS WHILE RAGING!!!

"We need a word."

Gorgug talking to Porter is so funny

ok. wait this is actually kinda sweet between Porter and Gorgug

"I feel lucky to have you in my class." 😭😭😭😭

MCAT SIGNED!!!

The Last Stand exam?

KRISTEN MIGHT PASS FAIL?

oh god. 4 stress tokens

I wonder if the intrepid heroes are aware of the 5 stress token

"I'm in a lot of school."

Gorgug looking into building a time machine real as hell

Oh my god gorgug is still on the owlbears

"Okay I think I have to lie down."

I'm going to fight the wizard teacher

"I love my life. Everything is perfect."

"... YOU'RE WORKING?"

AELWYN LONELY ARK

10 CATS??

aelwyn and adaine bonding 😭😭

AELWYN IS WORKING FOR KIPPERLILLY COPPERHEAD???

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera Ch 34 - Anniversary

What went before

Four whole chapters of 90% proof fluff?

Pfffft, can’t be letting that streak continue… 😂

I know what’ll fix it, some good old Scotty inner-monologue.

But lest he get too angst-ridden, there’ll be some puppy piling and some Babs to fluffen things out…

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Hey, how’s things? Fancy a chat?

Always. Give me 2 mins to escape.

Scott carefully extracted his legs from under a pile of snoozing younger brothers and shuffled his way off the couch, staggering slightly as the blood rushed back into his tingling feet.

As much as he loved the traditional puppy pile, he knew he was never going to sleep tonight - too many thoughts were circling like vultures over a half dead sheep. If he let himself relax they’d swoop and… let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty.

It was best he stayed awake.

This particular day of the year was always tricky, for all his family’s cunning attempts to distract him from it (and Virgil really had outdone himself this year). But it was the anniversary of the date he’d been shot down. The date everything had gone to hell. The date his life had split in two and there was a before-Scott and an After-Scott. Because despite his best efforts, he’d never been the same since.

And nor had they.

He paused and looked back at them, peacefully jigsawed together - Alan sprawled across the laps of John and Virgil, Kayo curled like a cat on Virgil’s opposite side and Gordon had somehow entwined himself between their legs. He would swear he could actually taste the bitterness of the regret that surged up, yet again, for having been the reason they’d experienced so much pain at that time...

Little Allie had been too young to understand that his Scotty wasn’t mad at him, hadn’t deliberately chosen not to come home to him… he’d apparently gone mute for weeks. John had been in the middle of exams and had just stopped sleeping. He’d aced them, sure, in the eyes of the rest of the world at least, but Scott knew the eventual scores hadn’t been what John had wanted or expected. Gordon had ended up suspended from school for trashing the library, until Virgil had met the headmaster to explain the situation and the suspension was replaced by authorised compassionate leave until the end of term. That should have been his job, not Virgil’s. Well… maybe Dad’s. But he’d sworn to be there when their father couldn’t be and the fact that on that occasion it was because of Scott himself that their father was unavailable… it felt like a double failure.

And then his Virgil… It had nearly destroyed him.

Scott didn’t know the detail. He only knew what he knew about the others because he’d overheard conversations, seen school records, noticed the twitch in John’s jaw when he’d belatedly congratulated him on his results. But his closest brother… all he knew was that it had been bad. Really bad. There was nothing more to overhear, because people just didn’t talk about it. Ever.

Kayo, thankfully, hadn’t been around at the time, but he still worried about what she knew and what impact that had. She knew a lot of things nobody else did… it was her job after all… and it shouldn’t matter. But occasionally when certain parts of the world, certain organisations came up he would catch her looking at him in a way that… well, worried him.

He really wished mind bleach was a thing.

He shook his foot impatiently and limped out of the lounge. His left shoulder twinged insistently and he tried to ignore it. It was purely psychological, he knew that very well. The scans had been clear for years and it only bothered him at this time of year. Ironic really, that this was the only phantom pain that remained. After all the violence that had been inflicted on him… all the fractures and internal damage… the only thing that still bothered him was the injury that had been his own fault. The one he’d given himself when he finally gave into despair and tried to smash his way through a steel door.

He shivered. This wasn’t a great line of thought to be pursuing. He mouthed the lines he’d been grounding himself with all day:

Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds…

He was free. He was loved.

It was all in the past.

All except for the bits that still managed to hurt them all.

Recent events had dispelled the illusion that, with time, his brothers might forget that for too long their strong eldest brother had been the weakest of them all. His bout of illness had given them a little refresher in why loving him would cause them pain. He wished it didn’t. It was too unfair that the people he most wanted to protect from his fallibility were the ones was most likely to be hurt by it.

The little voice that often sounded a lot like Patricia’s questioned whether it made any sense to feel guilty merely for being loved that much and pointed out that loving them back didn’t require shielding them from every kind of pain the world could inflict either. He was trying to believe it. Really. But the need to protect had always been so central to who he was… it was easy enough for Patricia to say these things because she didn’t have to live in his head.

Estera had made a similar point. He’d found that harder to shrug off, though, perhaps because she wasn’t being paid to make him feel better.

After a few weeks of respite the same old dream had returned with a vengeance this morning, almost unchanged, and he’d woken in a cold sweat, nauseous and confused. He’d spent most of the day wanting to call her, to reassure himself it wasn’t real, that the invisible thread was intact… that she was ok. He knew she was… and that his memories were false. But sometimes they could still be so vivid.

And today he just couldn’t get the memory of her screaming out of his head.

Except, of course, he’d never heard it. Not really. He stopped for a moment to let that fact sink in, tracing his fingertips across the stone walls of the stairwell.

He made it to the privacy of his room and called as he walked through the door, feeling a little as though he could actually, finally relax as she answered:

“Hi Blue, how are you?”

He wasn’t sure when the nickname had crept into use, and he wasn’t unaware that she was now effectively referring to him by the same name as the damn hellhound, but he found he didn’t dislike it at all. In fact it made him feel kind of warm inside. It was so very her.

“Hey! Nice to hear from you! Not a lot going on here, everyone else fell asleep during movie night so I’m just chilling on the balcony now. What are you up to?”

“Having a little lunchtime walk. Just sent the kids off to lunch and managed to persuade Barbara to switch my playground duty to Monday as I just cannot mediate any more battles this week.”

“Ah, dear old Babs, she doing alright?”

Estera chuckled “Well the reception desk collection of news-clippings featuring your face is increasing on an almost daily basis. She keeps asking when you’re coming back to visit us again.”

“Good to know someone out there appreciates the Scott Tracy. Send her my love.”

“You are a ridiculous creature.”

“Guilty as charged.” Scott grinned to himself.

She snorted and then hummed thoughtfully.

“You didn’t answer my question you know, don’t think I didn’t spot that.”

“I didn’t? What question?”

“I asked how you were and you told me what you were doing. That’s not the same thing.”

“Ah… Huh. Nothing gets past you does it?”

“Nope.” Scott could picture the raised eyebrow that would likely have been deployed in the brief pause that followed. He sighed.

“I’m… mixed? It’s ridiculous really because I’m perfectly aware it’s just a calendar date, an arbitrary system imposed by some ancient guys, and it’s not as if we’re even in the same point in space or anything… so just because the number is the same it doesn’t make the day particularly special… but…”

“It’s an anniversary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He fidgeted absent-mindedly with the mechanism of the lounger and only narrowly avoided trapping his fingers as it shifted suddenly. He pinned his free hand between his knees and cleared his throat, continuing: “Virgil and co have been trying to distract me all day.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really… but we had a nice time anyway.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Scott thought about this. He probably should. Ten minutes beforehand he thought he did. But now… he didn’t actually want to. The compulsion to overanalyse every memory that had been swirling through his head had eased, the cycling thoughts dissipated and, for now, he was happy to let them go. It was enough that she knew and understood.

“Actually… no. Is that ok? I’ve been thinking about it a lot all day and would rather just focus on something else for a bit?”

“Of course it’s ok. As long as you talk to someone when you need to.”

She and Virgil could be tag-teaming. He briefly wondered if his brother had tipped her off, but then realised she would have a similar date this weekend and probably didn’t need prompting.

“I’m getting better at that, I promise.

“I’m always here if that helps.”

“Noted, thank you. Really.”

He let his shoulders relax into the backrest and his hand fall to rest at his side. He could hear seabirds - such a familiar sound yet a bizarre experience when he was looking out over a quiet moonlight ocean himself. Given his ship could have him by her side in less than an hour, it always made him feel a little unbalanced to remember how topsy turvy their days were.

“So, lunch with Penny tomorrow, you excited?”

“Yes! I mean, I think so? Or slightly terrified?”

They talked of Penny-Event survival tactics and Scott heard the word “shenanigans” in context for the first time, vowing to use it constantly from now on. Estera expressed doubts about his tried and tested methods of upper class social engagement which she unfairly summarised as “flirting outrageously with everything that moves” and suggested she might need another less “Scott Tracy” approach. He feigned outrage and offence. She called him ridiculous again and laughed wholeheartedly. Mission accomplished. He closed his eyes and tried to fix in his memory that sound he realised he’d needed to hear so badly… hoping it would at some point become the stronger one. She was happy. She was ok. All of them were ok.

He realised he’d drifted, listening to the melody of her voice but not the words. Mentally slapping himself he refocused and realised she was now talking about a mixed martial arts competition she was thinking about entering.

“You should do it.”

“You think so?”

“If you’d enjoy it, why not?”

“I might not win…”

“Ha! Competitive much?”

“Isn’t everyone? Wait, what time is it?”

“Here it’s about ten to midnight, what are you, 11 hours behind?”

“Ok, good. I have time, will just walk a little quicker. Ugh my watch just won’t hold a charge anymore, I swear I plugged it in last night... why don’t they make things to last anymore?”

“Oh that’s frustrating, is it still in warranty? They should replace the battery for you?”

She mumbled something.

“Sorry, E, I didn’t catch that.”

“Don’t worry. Hey, I’m nearly back, so I’ll have to go in a minute… maybe you should actually get some sleep, Scott? I’d put money on you not having had a decent chunk of shut eye for a week at least.”

He laughed again but slightly awkwardly this time.

“Yes, Miss.”

He heard the jangling of the school entrance buzzer and Estera quietly greeting someone.

“Hey, before you go…”

He’d had a sudden idea but before he could get any further he heard a familiar voice calling “Hellooooo Scott Tracy!” in the background.

He could tell Estera was smothering the giggles and then she muttered quietly “Oh dear I’m sorry, there’s really no point denying it, my poker face is awful… could you do me a favour and say hello? If this works I’ll get the best rota slots for a month.” He heard the phone being passed over and braced himself before adopting the voice:

“Well hey there Babs, my dear, how are you keeping?”

A peal of tittering before she returned the greeting and informed him she was keeping very well and had been following his progress. He was then mildly scolded for being so silly as to fall off a skyscraper. He found himself apologising. Then promising to come back and visit again soon. Eventually the phone was handed back and Estera’s voice was a blessed relief to hear.

“I owe you one. She’s just concluded Alastair hasn’t coordinated sports day in a long time and I’m sure she had me lined up for that this morning.”

“Happy to be of assistance, I think? Although sports day sounds like a fun thing…”

“Not the planning part, Scott. It’s like building a bridge out of jellyfish. Anyway, you were going to ask something?”

Had he? Oh! He had… perhaps it wasn’t a good idea, she probably had things to do but he couldn’t think of anything else to say on the spot so cleared his throat and asked anyway:

“Um, it was just… did you have any plans for Sunday? I know it will be… a day… for you but maybe did you want to do something together? Ten years since we met and all? You could update me on the lunch… schenanigans? But… of course I totally understand if you’d rather be on your own, I wouldn’t want to interfere with whatever you… might… have um…” he was rambling now, suddenly unsure of himself.

“No, I… it would be nice not to be alone. That would be good.”

“Great, I’ll get Alan to cover for me. Your choice as to what we do, I’ll turn up where you tell me.”

“I think I have an idea. How about my place at 8am? Bring your running shoes.”

“F-A-B”

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He smiled as she hung up and lay back for a minute, enjoying the slower pace of his thoughts. His eyelids drooped and he startled - he couldn’t fall asleep here, they’d miss him. But maybe now he could have a little doze out there, in the company of his precious family. He quickly switched his habitual jeans for more comfortable sweatpants and quietly opened the door with the intention of sneaking back downstairs. Then nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Vee! What…?”

Virgil sat on the floor opposite the doorway, head leaning back, eyes heavy with sleep. He jolted awake, slightly headbutting the wall as he did so and struggled to his feet.

“Y’rite Scotty?”

Bleary eyed as Virgil was, Scott could almost feel the assessment in his brother’s gaze, more probing than any of his beloved medi-scanners. Scott suddenly realised how waking to find him gone might have felt.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Sorry to disappear. Was chatting to Estera and didn’t want to disturb you all.”

“No problem. Just didn’t want you to…” Virgil paused to yawn so widely it made Scott wince, sure he must have dislocated his jaw in the process. His little brother then blinked rapidly and looked around as if trying to locate his train of thought. Scott threw an arm around his shoulders and steered them both back in the direction of the lounge.

“You didn’t want me to what?”

“Oh. Right… Be alone. Feel alone. Think that you had to be alone… if you didn’t want to… be alone… you know?”

Virgil yawned again and Scott squeezed his shoulder a little tighter.

“I do know. And I don’t feel alone. It’s ok. I know I always have you.”

Virgil smirked “And not just us anymore… right?” Even his sleepy eyebrows were capable of behaving outrageously it seemed.

“I’m going to assume you’re too tired to know what you’re saying which would make it unsporting to throw you in the pool.”

Virgil snorted “You could try!”

“Ssssh, you’ll wake the others.”

They’d reached the lounge. Alan had shuffled into the space Virgil had vacated and John had pivoted to the horizontal and was drooling elegantly into the couch cushions. Scott made the speedy situational assessment that reintegrating into the original pile was going to be excessively complicated and thus setting up camp afresh on the other couch would be a better bet.

“Sit” he ordered in as commanding big brother a whisper as he could manage. Virgil obeyed and immediately lost the ability to sit upright. By the time Scott returned with a heap of blankets his head was resting on the arm rest and he was adding his bass rumble to the familiar symphony of Tracy sleep noises.

Scott distributed his stash, ensuring the whole family was adequately tucked in and took a moment to thank God, the universe, whoever it was that finally brought him home to them. Then he lifted Virgil’s legs, acknowledging privately he might have had a point about the pool-throwing thing, and carefully manoeuvred his way on to the couch, snuggling under his own blue blanket. He leant back and allowed his eyes to finally close, enjoying the sense of security the weight of his brother’s feet across his lap provided. As he drifted off he mused on that metaphor… how what an onlooker might see as a burden, could in fact be the most spectacular privilege he could ever ask for.

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