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Antique Soldiers | Ghost!141

Summary: Going into an antique store you're drawn to a beautiful box which is sealed until you take it home only for the inhabitants inside be released.

Word Count: 5K+

Mythic Month HQ

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You were going to stay inside today, maybe curl up onto your sofa and watch your favourite films but no. You decided to help out your friend instead, you loved her with all of your heart but sometimes you really hate the fact you can never say no to her, which means you agreeing to do things without even realising what you’re agreeing to. 

She was directing some production for her end of term project. Creating some sort of crack den for vampires. You weren't really paying attention to what it was about but you agreed to be on set design. You've never done anything like that before but all she said was it to be ‘spooky vampire vibes’. 

You had spent all last night in your bed with your laptop on Pinterest, you were so far into your research of ‘vampire vibe’ decor that you hadn’t realised the sun was starting to rise and you were significantly hungrier than before. 

Tugging your coat tighter around yourself you trek down the highly decorated streets. It was close to halloween so you dodged carved pumpkins and hanging cobwebs from shop signs and awnings. Your town always goes all out even though it really isn't a popular holiday around these parts.

You stop in your tracks as you spot your destination in front of you. An old antique shop that sells things for dirt cheap. The owner has lived above it for years, there's a silly rumour that they're actually a witch but you don't believe in such things. 

The front door opened with a jingle of a bell which echoed around the quiet shop. You felt uneasy as you ventured into the small space. There were so many things in here so you were careful to not accidentally knock anything over. You walked past a mirror that had definitely survived a fire or something, the reflection was all hazy and the outsides were black with specks of the original gold peeking through. It looked like there was someone else standing inside of it but you quickly looked away before you fully saw anything. 

Feeling a shiver go up your spine you have a sudden feeling you're being watched. You looked around you but couldn't see anyone - not even a worker. Weird. 

As you look through shelves of things, you come across a table with a small box sitting on it. It was absolutely beautiful, it was silver with blue gems embedded into different slots. Picking it up you look at it closer and feel something move around inside, feeling curious you try to open it but sadly you can't. 

“Beautiful isn't it” you flinch as you turn and see a woman standing next to you. Her dark hair covered part of her face but you could clearly make out the wrinkles decorating her face. 

“How much is it? There isn't a price tag” you blurt out and ask before you even realise you said anything. Is it weird to be drawn to something so much? The woman gives it a long look before smiling at you “free, take it” you furrow your brows at her and then look at the box in your hands. It looked so precious and expensive, why would she give it to you for free?

“Are you sure? I can always give you something” you offer while moving towards your purse but a hand on your arm stops you “take it, it's yours now” is all she says before walking away leaving you alone once more. 

You exited the store but then came to the realisation that you didn't buy anything for your set. You look back through the window of the store and see the ‘closed’ sign swinging as if it was just turned. “Great… just great” you huff and then notice that it's a lot darker outside. How long were you in there for?

Looking down at the box in your arms you groan at your stupid infatuation with it but hold it closer to your chest and storm back to where you parked your car. 

It had been a couple of days and you woke up to the feeling of your apartment freezing cold. Pulling on a warm jumper, you pull the sleeves over your hands to try and gain some warmth into them. Rubbing your arms you walk over to the thermostat, but when you see the temperature you become confused. It's a normal temperature so why do you feel so cold?

Moving further into your home the temperature changes and you test the different rooms. Every room was the temperature it was supposed to be except your bedroom. Walking over to your whiteboard of things to remember you write down ‘call maintenance’ onto the list.

Sighing you go back into your freezing bedroom and get changed then grab your bag to go to your first class. What you don't realise is that the pretty sealed box you bought a couple of days ago was laying wide open on the top of your dresser. 

Your day was long and your friend was breathing down your neck about this stupid set design so you stayed behind and finished it off. When you get home you go into your bedroom and get ready for the shock of a cold temperature but when it doesn’t come you freeze. “Hmm maybe I don't have to call maintenance after all” you smile before going to your board and wipe the note off but then see the black marker is smeared over the white background. Looking closer it looks like finger marks which confuses you “What the?”

*BANG*  

You flinch at the sudden sound and peer around the corner to where you heard the sound come from. You see your bedroom door is now shut and eye it suspiciously before taking a deep breath and slowly walking towards it. If someone was inside of your apartment you would have seen them due to the lack of size and space you have but then again how do you explain the wiped off marker. 

Either it was an intruder or your friend was playing a trick on you, she had a spare key and has loved playing pranks on you since you were in high school. Taking another big deep breath you shake off your tense shoulders and grip the bedroom door handle, twisting it fast and barge through the door to find nothing. 

“I must be going crazy” you huff a laugh and then stop when something catches your eye. There was a reflection in your mirror and it looked like a man but it quickly disappeared and you looked all around your room and your eyes landed on something else.

The box.

Slowly walking over to where it sat on your dresser, the blue silk interior grabs your attention and you eagerly look inside only to find… dogtags?

Reaching inside you hold one up in the air and read it “Kyle Garrick” quirking an eyebrow up you gather the others into your hands and also read their names “Well Kyle, Johnny, Simon and John I don't know if you're real but if you are why are you in a box?” you question and feel something breathe in your ear. You flick your head to the side and look behind you, you're starting to get freaked out now but something in the back of your mind is laughing at you. 

Your gut feeling was saying for you to run, your eyes look at your open bedroom door and you dart for it. As you were about to pass through the threshold it slammed shut in your face and you grabbed the handle which was red hot. Letting out a hiss you hold your hand and feel the top layer of your skin burn. 

Backing away from the door you look at your window and groan when you realise they don't open far due to you being so high up. Reaching for your phone you pick it up but then you see the battery is dead “What the fuck?” you could've sworn it was at least 40%.  

Throwing it down on your bed your mind keeps nagging at you to go to the box. Glancing over at the glistening silver material you hesitate before touching it again. The dogtags were still laying inside and you picked all of them up, holding them in one hand as you investigated the box. You felt along the silk interior for anything stuck into it but you couldn't find anything. Flipping it upside down however an engraving stood out to you with a familiar name carved in the silver. 

Your name was in bold capital letters, you ran your thumb along it and felt every indent of each initial. “This has to be some sort of joke” you put it back down and go to pick up your phone to charge it and call someone, you need answers and you have a feeling your friend was behind this. 

As you turn around you let out a scream when you see four men looking at you. Your hand tightened around the dog tags wrapped around your hand as you stood there frozen on the spot. 

Get out of there!  Your mind screamed at you but you were in some sort of daze. 

You tried to move but your feet were stuck and your heartbeat got faster with every breath you took. “Don't be afraid we're not going to hurt you” one says with his arms raised in the air, he took a step towards you but you managed to step back, your ass was pressed up against the dresser and you felt behind you. The box was in reach and you flung it at them but watched in horror as it went through them. The loud clattering sound was the only noise filling your senses. 

“What the fuck?” is all you managed to get out before making a break for it and ran towards them, all logic in your mind went out of the window at your actions but they were guarding the door and you needed to get out of here. 

Arms however wrapped around your body and you were flung to the bed and held down “let me go!” you wiggle around to get yourself free but it was no use, you were stuck and it sucked terribly.  

“Calm down! breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth” someone grabs your chin and your face to face with one of the men, he has scars on his face which somehow seemed to calm you down. Some connected with one another and you snapped out of it when you felt something lightly tap your face. 

“Hey… we won't hurt you, my name's Kyle. What's yours?” his voice was soft and you almost fell into the security of it until you came back to reality. The other man had already let go of you but you scrambled up your bed until you were sitting on your pillows with your back to the headboard. You were shaking slightly and the cold feeling from this morning had come back. You looked at each individual who was surrounding your bed, they watched you with curious eyes but they didn’t seem to look threatening. Okay maybe they did a little with their big bodies but there was something trusting about them. 

After what felt like forever you crawled to the bottom of your bed and reached out a hand, carefully pushing through the abdomen of the scarred man. “This is insane…” you breathe out and a shiver goes up your arm, goosebumps raising along with your hairs. 

You saw movement in the corner of your eye and another man stood before you with something in his hand. You looked at him and he dropped the item in your hand which was one of the dog tags. “Johnny Mactavish, is this you?” he nods his head and you grab the rest which are sprawled out on your bed and gather them in your palm. 

“These belong to all of you?” 

“Yes they do” 

“Why are they in a box though in some antique store?” you had to ask the question but maybe they didn't even know. “Dunno but it's stuffy in there” one of them jokes and you stare blankly at him. 

You're joking with ghosts… dead people are in front of you right now and you’re joking with them as if they are still alive. 

Sighing heavily you ask for them to introduce themselves to you and then they slip each of their tags around your neck, they jingled with every move you made but you didn't mind it. You didn't feel comfortable talking to them in your room so you asked them to go to the living room instead, while you thought they would open the door they didn't and instead walked through it. 

When you entered your living room they were all waiting for you, each with different types of smiles on their faces, you sat on the sofa with your head in your hands. 

“So you guys are ghosts”

“Yes” they say in unison and you run your palms down your face and groan “okayyy and how did you die?” you ask but then they begin to awkwardly look at each other clearly uncomfortable with the question.        

You felt something lower itself next to you and John looks at you with a solemn expression on his face “We were on a mission but unfortunately couldn't trust the information we were given, we were captured and executed on the spot, youngest first up to the oldest” you let out a gasp at his words and went to give him a friendly touch of reassurance only for your hand to go through him. 

“I'm sorry…” your hand hovers over where his shoulder is and he appreciated the gesture and placed his hand on yours. Your hand felt as if it was inside of the freezer by his touch and he could tell you were uncomfortable and retreated it. 

As you stared at his hand you were suddenly curious about something “How is it that I can see you guys?” you look over to the others and Simon steps forward “We're showing ourselves to you, also you have something we’re attached to” he points to the metallic chains around your neck which makes you look down at them and touch them. 

“Why can I only touch you some of the time?” You turned to John and he tapped his head “It takes a lot of concentration, can’t do it all the time or else then you won’t be able to see or hear us” you nod your head as you take in the information and then stand up. 

“I see… When did the box open?” you asked while standing there and tapping your pointer finger on your lip in thought. “Around this morning” Johnny says and everyone agrees with murmurs and nods. 

“So what you're saying is you watched me sleep and get dressed today” you looked at him and he seemed to freeze on the spot and become flustered. “Umm well uh…” he slowly disappeared from your vision and you sighed “Really? Even in death guys are still creeps” 

“We are not creeps! You just didn’t know we were there” Kyle states and you narrow your eyes at him before rolling them and walking to your front door.

“Well it was nice meeting you but you may leave now, go bother someone else” you motion to the hallway outside your apartment and they stay where they are and then Johnny comes back into view shaking his head side to side. 

“Come on, gooo” you move your arm quickly hoping it'll spur them into movement but they're all still rooted like a tree. 

“We can't. We're stuck here” Simon says flatly “You fucking with me right. No?” your mouth was open like a fish out of water and you slammed the door behind you not realising its currently very late and your neighbours are probably asleep. 

“Well if you’re going to be here all the time then we’re going to have to have some rules” you stand like a mother with your hands on your hips and giving each individual a look to let them know you're serious. 

“Of course. What are your rules?” John sits on the arm of your sofa and waits patiently, you appreciate the gesture and his respect for you. 

“Everyone just come over here please” you motion to your sofa and they all do as you say. You stand in front of them pacing. 

“Okay so first, no going in my room” they all nod and you bite your lip while trying to think of another rule. “Secondly, no - ummm. Bathroom! Do not go in there okay?” Kyle lets out a small giggle and you sigh. 

“That’s all I got” you say, shrugging your shoulders and collapsing into your armchair. You were exhausted from your busy day and the showing up of your new ‘roommates’. Running a hand down your face you let out a yawn and then there was a knock at your door. 

Walking over, the guys as well, you look through your peephole and see who it is. Opening it you see your neighbour standing there. “Thank goodness you answered, are you okay dearie? I heard you pacing around and… you talking to yourself” the older woman played with her cardigan button and you just stared blankly at her “Oh, I was- on the phone” you give her a smile but her eyes cast to the side of you which makes you panic. 

“Why is your hair floating?” She didn’t seem fazed by what she said but your shoulders tense when you feel a cool breeze run up your back. Reaching up to your head you smooth down the hairs, Kyle pops up next to you with a cheeky smile on his face but you remain calm in front of your neighbour who looks… worried for you. 

“I was rubbing a balloon on my head. The static and stuff” You state and she seems to become more worried “A balloon?” She looked down at her watch and then back to you “Sweetheart why don’t you go get yourself some sleep okay? And I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning” she says, softly grabbing your hand in a caring manner. 

After saying your goodbyes you shut your door softly not wanting to wake your neighbours at 3am. Turning swiftly on your heel you march towards Kyle “That wasn’t funny!” You whisper yell but all he does is shrug his shoulders and laugh. “It was funny. For me anyway” he seemed very happy with himself as he joyfully walked around your living room, looking at the photos on the walls and knocking a blanket off the back of your sofa on purpose. 

“I'll put you back in the box!” you threaten and he turns around and puts his hands together while falling onto his knees “Oh please don't! I don't deserve such punishment” he laughs and you grumble something under your breath before slowly backing out of the room “John please keep him away from my stuff, you're my favourite as of now” “Hey what about me?!” Johnny shouts but you’re already in your room getting ready to go to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning you had hoped everything was a dream until you opened your bedroom door to a six foot something Simon. “Fuck me! Why are you standing there?” you placed a hand on your chest to steady your beating heart while walking through him. “I was coming to see if you were awake” he followed you as you walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. 

“Why?” 

“The guys were annoying me”

“So you thought to come and annoy me” 

You were grabbing your favourite mug from the cupboard and prepared your drink for the water. “I wanted to ask you something” you hummed for him to continue as you grabbed a spoon. “The box had your name on it, why?” you stopped where you stood by the sink and turned to face him “Thank you for reminding me” you smiled before walking past him and going to your room to find it. 

When you entered it was still on the floor from when you threw it at them and your name was still engraved into the bottom. As it was tipped upside down something flew out and you looked down at the ground to see a piece of paper laying next to your foot. That most definitely wasn't there yesterday. Bending down to pick it up you turned it around and read the inky words on the page.   

‘May these souls be reunited with their owner’    

“Owner? That sounds like some bullshit don't you think” you look to your side but don't see Simon with you. Poking your head out to where your door is you see him leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why didn't you follow me? I was talking to you”      

“Did you really forget your own rules already?” 

You did forget but he didn't need to know that. “No… but we were having a conversation so that means you could come in” you held your head high and he just gave you one look and came inside of your room. 

You show him the paper in your hand and he reads it, there wasn't any emotion on his face so you didn't really know what he was thinking. “Where did you get this from?” He points to the paper and then you show him the box that was tucked under your armpit. 

“It flew out when I was reading the bottom” 

He turned on his heel while holding the box and walked away from you. “Where are you going?” you chase after him and the tags around your neck clashed together as you did so. 

When you walk into the living room the guys are all there surrounding your coffee table as they stare at the box Simon placed down along with the note. 

“What does it mean?” “How do we know that she didn’t put it there last night” 

They turned to look at you in unison and you somewhat felt like you were under some sort of investigation. “Why would I write something like that? Even I don't know what it means” 

“Well clearly it means that she is our owner and this box belongs to her” 

“Why did you buy this box in the first place?” John asks you and you give it a look and walk towards it. 

“I was buying some things for a project and this was the only thing I picked up. I immediately asked for the price but the woman gave it to me for free, I never saw the engraving on the bottom” you say in the most honest way you could. “I was somewhat attracted to it” your eyes were glued to the shiny material. 

“Did the woman seem weird at all?” Kyle asks and you look at him and think “Not really… she approached me out of nowhere and that was it” 

“What did she look like?” 

“What's with all the questions? It was just some old lady who said I could take it and that's it” you don't know why you got so defensive but they were starting to annoy you and you've only known them for a day. 

“Black hair?” 

“Seemed like she would smell funky” you stared at Johnny and made a face of disgust “Uh yeah…” they moved in an instant and came towards you, their bodies were so close and you felt intimidated. 

“When we died we saw a woman like that and then she put us in that very box” John explained while pointing to the coffee table. “Should we go to the store and see if she's there?” you say looking at each of them and then shake your head as you remembered they can’t leave… or can they?

Turning around to your front door you opened it but then jumped out of your skin when you saw your neighbour standing there “Are you okay sweetie? I brought you breakfast” giving her a smile you quickly take it out of her hands and bring it inside before sending her back to her apartment. 

“Follow me” 

“We-” 

“Come outside, trust me” you beckon them over with your hand and they give each other a shrug before Kyle comes running towards the door. You watch from the hallway outside your apartment, him coming your way, you had no idea if it would work but it's worth a try - and he's really trusting you in this. 

He closed his eyes and ran straight over the threshold of your entrance. A smile spread over your face and the others inside looked confused “I think it has to do with these” you say while holding up the dog tags around your neck. “They were in the box, sooo if I take them with me so can you” that was your logic around it but you had no idea this idea would even work but you're glad it did. 

“Simon grab the box and let's go!” you march away until you hear your name being called “Aren't you forgetting something?” John says and points to your feet, nodding your head you go back into your apartment and grab some shoes and also your car keys. 

Walking down the streets with the knowledge that there are four ghosts with you and no one else knows makes you feel weird. You tried not to speak to them as you didn’t want the surprisingly busy streets to think you're talking to them or yourself…

You saw the shop ahead and headed towards it in a more hurried manner, you wanted to find this woman and wanted answers as to why she's given you four ghosts.  

Opening the door the same bell jingled above the door and a woman greeted you. You've never seen her before but walked up to the counter anyway. “Hi, I was sold this box a couple of days ago and I wanted to see if the woman who sold it me was here” 

The blonde gave you a smile and then frowned when she looked down at the item on the counter. “I'm sorry but we didn't sell you this” she says and you shake your head “No I came in here and picked it up from a table in the back” you point in the general direction but she gives you a disappointing smile and shakes her head. 

“Well is the woman here? Dark hair and around this height” you measure where the woman was up to you and the woman shakes her head yet again “I’m the only one who works here, I'm sorry I can’t help you”  

You watch as Simon and Johnny walk through the counter and investigate the back room, the girl must've felt the breeze of their bodies and turned around. You were so glad she couldn't see them. 

“Have you ever had anyone of that description come in before?” you question and she turns back around to you and taps the counter thinking of an answer. “Nope not many people come in here so I would remember someone like that” 

You see the guys reemerge from the back and Johnny gives you a shrug of the shoulders “Nothing there” Simon says and you admit defeat and pick up your box and turn to leave. When you walk back outside your shoulders sag and a frown appears on your face “I guess we’ll never know why she gave me this box” you kick a stone across the floor and walk back to your car with the guys behind you.   

“It'll be okay, you got four smoking men to live with now, anyone would die for that” you hear Kyle say from his place next to you and you let out a laugh and unlock your car. 

“I don’t particularly find dead people attractive, no offence” 

Weeks later you and the guys have been getting along. 

Price helped you build a bookshelf, which was collecting dust for years in its box. He couldn't actually do it for you but he told you where each thing went, it wasn’t helpful when Kyle stole one of the screws. Apparently he wasn't always like this, a jokester yes but never this playful. You didn't mind it really, it was a little annoying sometimes but he’d bring it back… after begging for it. 

Simon and Johnny helped you bake. You were making some cupcakes for your friend's birthday party and you were on strict duty to make your ‘yummy cupcakes’. They weren't even special but if people liked them, then that's all that matters. Johnny did tie the apron a little too tight around your waist but you didn’t mind breathing with how he smiled so brightly at the thought he was helping you. Simon read out the recipe - even though you didn’t need it - he did read it softly but sometimes his lieutenant side came out and yelled at you for not following them directly.    

You hadn’t gotten used to the fact that they just pop up out of nowhere. Playing tricks on you, making you jump or drop things when they reach out to grab you but don’t show themselves. It was as if they were trying to give you a heart attack and become like them.

You had found their social media that was never deleted and laughed at their pictures, they were bad… really bad. They didn't appreciate your judgemental looks and your laugh crying and threw things at you. 

Whenever you had friends over you would have to beg them to behave but you would see them in the corner of your eye touching your friends hair or making the room unbearably cold. You had to lie and say it was just your apartment because there was no chance they would believe you had ghosts living with you, 

Their dog tags were laid safely inside of the silver box on your dresser, you only wore them unless you wanted to take them out of your house, Johnny claimed it was as if they were your pet. You did remind him of the ominous note of you being their owner  and he ripped it up and threw it out of the window, very dramatic.  

You'd never see the woman again and you frequented the antique store after your class just to try to see her but you never got close. She just disappeared. 

It was okay though, living with ghosts isn't actually as bad as it seems.

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[freelancearsonist]

I Was Fixed On Your Hand of Gold

➔ Lucien Flores x afab!Reader - 1k

➔ When Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander. OR Lucien uses his fingers for good evil underneath the table at dinner with your friends.

➔ Rated MA for exhibitionism kink, fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby), references to smoking/nicotine use, no use of y/n, reader has female anatomy but no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

➔ i don't know anything about this man other than that he looks scummy and i'm in love with him. thank you to the dieter bravo brainrot club discord server for feeding my madness and to @shakespeareanwannabe for proofreading this incoherent horny babble <3 title is from 'would that i' by hozier wow what a surprise another cece fic named after a hozier song

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

It’s growled so low in your ear that you could almost believe it’s imagined. But with the way his fingers are dancing against your burning skin, tracing little circles along the length of your thigh, there’s nothing but intention in his voice–regardless of how raspy and deep it is.

Eager fingers push your skirt out of the way, impatient yet calculated. He moves slowly and with deliberation, careful not to show anything above the tablecloth.

“Don’t ignore your friends, baby,” he murmurs low into your ear so only you can hear.

It reminds you of where you are, and why this can’t happen right now. There’s five other people gathered around the table, all smiles and camaraderie and little sips of cheap wine. It’s been a good evening, really. But they’re your friends, not Lucien’s. He won them over within five minutes of meeting them and he’s been bored ever since. And when Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander.

It’s wrong and you should really stop him. You should push his hand away before his nomadic fingers can climb any further up your thigh than they already have. But he finds the wet spot that’s pooling against your panties, and there’s no denying how much you want it.

It takes every ounce of your restraint not to moan when he finds your clit. It’s like his fingers gravitate to it, like there’s some kind of magnetic pull–even through the barrier of your panties, the cocky bastard doesn’t struggle at all.

He doesn’t even blink. His thick, practiced fingers swirl against the seat of your panties with ease and he doesn’t react even remotely when his fingers immediately come away soaked.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, watching him chuckle at the story your best friend is telling across the table and all the while pretending that his greedy, heavy fingers aren’t pushing your panties aside to swipe through the gathering slick.

Your knee jolts before you can control it and knocks against his thigh, thankfully not causing any noticeable disturbance to the rest of the table’s occupants. But the look he gives you is enough warning–head tipped down, dark eyes impossibly darker, jaw set. He looks dangerous, and it makes your traitorous cunt soak his fingers even further. He’ll only tell you once: if you can’t sit still, you’ll be going home aching and unsatisfied.

You need to come so bad in this moment that you feel like you might cry–so, despite feeling rather like a scolded child under his gaze–you lock every muscle in your body to the best of your ability and let the horrible, delicious onslaught continue.

You swallow thickly when you feel the first real press of his finger. It swirls from your clit down to your entrance, and that’s all the warning you get before he slowly, torturously presses it into your cunt.

He lets it rest, just for a moment, knuckle deep–he knows that even this single finger is a slight stretch. After a moment or two to adjust, he withdraws completely and you have to fight back the whine that builds in your throat. But before you can betray your impatience he’s back, overwhelmingly so, two fingers pressed deep and curled in the exact way that he knows will make you shatter. It’s cruel to do this to you right now, to find that most sensitive spot when you can’t moan or even shudder in reaction to the delicious onslaught of pleasure.

His fingers are relentless–there’s a skilled craft to the way his arm stays completely motionless while his middle and ring fingers flutter and scissor against your g-spot.

Your thighs shake from the sensation the closer he brings you to release. As much as you try to ignore it–to focus on the current story about something that happened in a grocery store parking lot last Thursday–he’s bringing you to the brink so fucking fast that there’s no denying it. There’s no hope for composure, especially once his calloused thumb joins in to swirl tight, rapid circles over your clit.

Above the table, you make eye contact with one of your closest friends and laugh breathlessly at the meaningless story they tell. They never even suspect that below the table, you’re squeezing and fluttering around Lucien’s hand as the most intense orgasm of your life sweeps through you.

It takes a solid few moments for you to be able to breathe normally again. And Lucien, the smug bastard, just leans back in his chair and spreads his leg comfortably, free hand resting behind his head in the most casual manner possible like he didn’t just make you come all over his fingers. And then, when he’s sure no one is looking, he brings his right hand up to his lips and sucks his fingers deep into his mouth–looking directly into your eyes as he does so. He licks every drop of your cum from his digits so carelessly in front of your friends that it nearly makes you come again.

You think he’s had his fill. Your head stops swirling and he laughs along with your friends and you think he’s done. You’re wrong. 

He takes your hand in his and laces your fingers together, guiding you ever-so-slowly to palm him through his loose sweatpants. His cock is straining, hard and insistent, against the thick cotton fabric–it makes you squirm in your own seat a little bit.

He’s impossibly casual about your touch as he wiggles a half-spent pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket.

“Go ahead, baby,” he mutters right into your ear. “Take care of your fuckin’ mess.”

And who are you to decline after he so generously took care of you?

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores smut #lucien flores fanfiction #lucien flores one shot #the uninvited #cece writes

[foolishlywandwaving]

omg draco haters unite

hahaha I know what this was in response to. as a kid I HAAATED draco malfoy. I thought he was (and we didn't have this stunning turn-of-phrase back in the day) the epitome of a spoiled nepobaby, nasty, prejudiced, the worst distillation of school bully, more money than sense.

as an adult I think his wealth should be seized and equitably distributed -

BUT - I think this makes him a great character. I'm not one for cheap draco redemption arcs. he is a product of his upbringing and I want him written as such, flaws and all.

I can't say I read dramione; maybe I get frustrated when she enters his 24 carat gold-encrusted home and is overcome at every single dress he has custom-made for her and her own personal make-up artist and gets wetter than niagra falls over how nicely he treats his loyal and devoted house-elf who singularly raised him in an abusive household because female characters are shallow and can forgive seven years of vile bullying with an LV (louis vuitton not lord voldemort although I would probably buy his designs because have you SEEN the dark mark) bag and being pampered and then becomes his high-society wife rather than become the minister for magic and smash the system blah blah blah ...

drarry, however - yes. I can see it. pleaaase give me your recs. the darker the better.

#drarry recs #harry potter #draco malfoy #hermione CAN'T BE BOUGHT #(unless she's being trafficked I guess) #drarry

[wawamouse]

Rating some of the jewelry on Oz

Ryan O'Reily: Classic golden cross, simple and sleek. The snake chain adds a certain elegance while still being a respectable thickness. 8/10

Chucky Pancamo: Gold rope chain with a boxing glove pendant and diamond inlay, later joined in season 5 by a gold medallion with a boxer or strongman depicted and switched over to a thick paperclip type chain. The pendants give charm bracelet. A little kitsch but the heavy gold never drowns him bc he's a big guy. 7/10 for the early season look. 5/10 for the later season jewelry. The chain type didn't suit the double pendants imo.

Kareem Said: Multicolored, polished wooden beads with a light green tassel pendant. (Above-left: s4, right: s6) The necklace originally looks quite well-made and taken care of. By s6, after Said breaks the string in anger, it appears that the necklace was remade on a shorter string: the beads have been forced tighter together, the once beautiful tassel is a darker color with the strings matted and tangled. 9/10 in the original state. 5/10 in the remade state. The beads are still nice.

Kenny Wangler: Dog tag even though his ass was NOT in the military (not that I would award points if he was). Kind of looks like it's not even on a beaded chain, but I can't really tell. 3/10. Know yourself.

Burr Redding: Possibly leather/rope string with long wooden beads. Wooden face/mask pendant attached by metal clasp. Don't like the size of the pendant with the length of the necklace but it matches the vibe. 6/10

Raoul Hernandez: Honestly I couldn't get a good look at what the pendant depicts. It appears to be a woman in a skirt standing over something with a ruby inlay incorporated into it in the lower left. Strung on a thick rope chain. Very pretty. Very big. I appreciated the commitment. 8/10. Special side shout out to John's crazy huge (presumably) Virgin Mary necklace on the herringbone chain. Big theatrical Catholic energy, probably the way it should be. 9/10 for John.

Chico Guerra: My guy started wearing chains near the end of s4, coming out the gate with a thin golden rope, moving on to a cuban chain for s5 and then switching to a figaro chain in s6. This really just comes down to preference of chain type bc he never has a pendant. I love rope chains because they're pretty uwu but the cuban chain feels more expected of Chico. Figaro chains look cheap to me and also don't think I didn't see him rip that thing right off his neck in the laundry room. In order: 8/10, 7/10, 5/10.

Jia Kenmin: I have ranted about this previously but this mad man is wearing a highly breakable piece of jade on a single long red string while he jumps around and stands upside down. The pendant from what I could tell in other close ups depicts a dragon, and the color of the jade is nice and pale. Should've been on a braided string or placed on gold. That string is pure arrogance. 7/10.

Jorge Vasquez: We got a rosary cross and a giant metal (maybe gold but probably not) Puerto Rico pendant on a densely beaded string. The rosary on its own is very nice—dark beads along a metal chain. The Puerto Rico necklace clashes completely with everything, but then again, this guy has every single finger and his wrists taped like he's about to start rock climbing or doing jiu jitsu or something, so who can really know what's going on in his mind? 7/10 for the rosary. 2/10 for the PR necklace. I respect repping the heritage but that thing is truly ugly.

Johnny Basil as "Mobay". Of course this dumb dumb also has a rope necklace with a puka shell on a clay bead pendant with Jamaican flag color beads. I wonder where his cover is supposed to be from... 6/10. A bit tacky looking but simplistic enough to not offend the eyes.

#oz hbo #text #ryan o'reily #chucky pancamo #kenny wangler #burr redding #chico guerra #jia kenmin #raoul hernandez #jorge vasquez #johnny basil #ldajfladjk the s4/s6 said photos..... he was really going thru it #I may have gotten some of the chains wrong. low quality video and whatnot

[kingdomnerds]

For @twilightown’s #kh4challenge! I figured this little piece I wrote would fit the Day 3 challenge (two characters you want to see a friendship form/get stronger). I suppose it could also fit in with Day 2 and Day 5. Anyway, enjoy!

They had come out of nowhere. Sora was used to the heartless appearing out of thin air to terrorize him. But usually, he wasn't alone. He had Donald and Goofy help him take out the monsters. But now? Things were different. He was in a different environment with different circumstances. While it wasn't extremely challenging, it sure was exhausting.

"Get out of here!" He shouted as he took down another heartless, trying to get the citizens of Quadratum to leave the area so he could handle them. He turned back around to face them. He was exhausted. He had just gotten off of work (rent wasn’t cheap) and just wanted to get back home to the apartment to eat dinner, then fall asleep.

But like always, the heartless seemed to have other plans. He dodged the claws of a neoshadow before striking it down. The rain poured from above, soaking him from head to toe. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably and keeping his keyblade from slipping out of his hands was becoming more difficult the longer he fought.

With a fierce battle cry, he finally managed to take down the last heartless in the area. With a shaky exhale, he let his keyblade disappear in a shower of golden light. He wrapped his arms around himself. He was soaked to the bone, and it was getting darker out.

He fell to his knees as his fatigue caught up to him. Rain droplets rolled down his cheeks like tears as he simply let the rain wash over him, too tired to care at the moment. It was quiet in the park. Nobody was around. Or he had thought at least. He could hear footsteps coming up from behind him.

Sora didn't know who it was. He just hoped they would leave him alone so he could sort himself out before figuring out a way to get home. The rain suddenly stopped pouring down above him.

He froze and looked up. An umbrella. "Need some help?" A terrifyingly familiar voice spoke calmly.

Sora turned around to see Young Xehanort holding an umbrella over his head. Sora glared at the young man and summoned his keyblade, pointing the tip at the young man's throat as he stood. He hoped he couldn't see how much his hands shook or how terrified he truly felt. "How did you get here?" Sora growled.

Young Xehanort seemed a bit taken aback by Sora's hostility. But he let out a quiet sigh, still holding the umbrella over the both of them. "I am his fourteenth vessel.”

“Fourteenth vessel?”

“Yes. My job was to explore unreality.“ Sora raised an eyebrow, not daring to lower his blade. Young Xehanort sighed.

"It's true. You don't have to believe me. But just know that my intention isn't to hurt you. I may not be the exact same person you fought, but I have his memories so I understand your apprehension." Sora slowly lowered his keyblade but never let it fade.

Sora looked the young man up and down cautiously. "How long have you been in Quadratum?"

Young Xehanort smirked. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I'm curious. Can't blame me." Sora replied with a hesitant shrug. He finally let his keyblade disappear in a flurry of gold. A small smile spread across the young man's face. "I don't know how much time has passed back in reality. But here, I've been in unreality for about… I'd say at least a year or two. It's hard to tell."

Sora slowly nodded. A gust of wind blew by, causing the brunette to shiver. Young Xehanort looked out at the hazy scene surrounding them. "Let's try and find some shelter from the rain. I can try and answer any questions you have."

Sora hesitantly followed Young Xehanort as they walked. A tense silence followed. Young Xehanort glanced at the teen walking beside him. He frowned, taking in his features. He looked exhausted. Dark bags had settled underneath his eyes. He was slumped forward slightly. And he seemed to be dragging his feet. He didn't have his usual walls put in place. His positive smile was just a front so nobody knew how deeply terrified he really was. It was only a matter of time before he broke. Xehanort thought to himself as he focused back forward. The silence was starting to become a bit much.

"How did you arrive here?" Xehanort asked quietly, but loud enough for Sora to hear. Sora didn't answer right away, biting his lip as he carefully thought over his words.

"I abused the power of waking to save someone very special to me. Now, I'm paying the price."

Xehanort couldn't help but smile. Sora glanced at Xehanort and frowned. "What're you smiling about?" He asked defensively. Xehanort shook his head. "Nothing. Just…thinking about how similar we truly are."

Sora paused. "What do you mean?"

Xehanort glanced at the boy before looking straight ahead, the rain still pouring down as street lights lit up the area. "We both have sensitive hearts, Sora. But, I guess the only difference between us, is that you haven't fallen to darkness because of it."

Sora stopped walking. Xehanort turned around to face him. "What do you mean by that?" Sora asked cautiously. Young Xehanort was silent as he tried to come up with the right words to say. He sighed quietly. "When I was around your age, I trained to become a keyblade master. However, something happened. A classmate of mine had a heart similar to ours. He was very sensitive to the hearts of others. To the point where after the loss of his sister, his darkness became too much for him to handle. He went insane. He murdered…all of my friends and then some. I studied darkness to try and control it. I swore I would never become like my classmate."

Xehanort laughed bitterly. "But, I ended up becoming just like him. He had even said the same thing I am telling you. How we are the same."

Sora's face fell. He stared at his shoes. "I'm sorry…." Xehanort sighed. "It's fine. Things…happen. And sometimes, we can't control it. Whether we like it or not. Life is unfair. You and I both know that. But, I'm glad you've been able to keep your light."

Sora swallowed nervously. He moved forward, urging Xehanort to follow. "We aren't so different, you and I." Young Xehanort then glanced at the brunette. "You can be honest with me, Sora." Sora raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Be honest about what?"

"That you actually want the title of Keyblade Master."

Sora's eyes widened in shock before he waved his hands in dismissal. "What?! No! I'm fine without the title. Besides, that's all it is. A title!"

"Is it though?"

Sora snapped his mouth shut. "It may be a title, but with it comes respect. I know how they treat you, Sora. How you're always the laughing stock. You're not good enough. Even though you try your hardest. It will never be enough. And you pretend to be fine with it all. You…remind me of my best friend, Eraqus."

"Aqua, Terra, and Ven's master…" Sora whispered. Xehanort nodded.

The teen glared down at his feet, wrapping his arms around himself, feeling a bit insecure. He supposed…what he said made sense. Young Xehanort offered him a smile. "You can be honest. I'm no longer an enemy. I…would actually just like to be your friend."

Sora looked up at the young man, aghast at his statement. "W-What?"

"I would like to be your friend, Sora. I would like to help you out."

Sora chewed on his lower lip. "Think about it, at least. You don't have to have an answer right away. I'm not forcing you either."

"A…Alright."

Xehanort nodded. "Good. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Want to get something to eat?" Sora couldn't help but smile slightly. "Yeah, let's get some food."

I want Young Xehanort to come back and be friends or at least an ally to Sora. I'm sorry. I just think this would be really cool!!

If you read this whole thing, wow. Thank you! Hope you liked it!

#kingdom hearts #kh4 #kh4challenge #kh sora #kh young xehanort #I just want them to be friends #please Nomura #Screw the old man #but give young xehanort a chance

[the-clockwork-three]

The Howl cardigan is done!! Featuring my full Howl Pendragon cosplay

[Image ID: the first image is of a hand made crop-top length patchwork cardigan. The front is made of light pink and purple checker with a yellow trim. The sleeves have a checker of pink and the second colour goes from light purple, to wine, to bright pink. The cuffs are cream and yellow.

The second picture is of the back of the cardigan. The back has a purple and blue checker, and the sleeves are the same.

The third picture is of a person wearing a jacket. They are pale skinned with long dark hair. they are also wearing a frilly white shirt, black trousers, black boots, gold rings, a blue neck lace, and have a pink star shaped necklace hanging form their waist. Their face is not visible. End ID]

Some close up pics of some of my favourite parts, goofy pics and general rambling below the cut.

The jacket weighs 330g (0.73 pound), and is made up of 92 squares each measuring 3.5 x 3.5 inches. It is Really Warm, but not very itchy (except for the wine in the sleeves because it's actual wool and not just plastic). It took me about six months to make in its entirety, but I did take several breaks so it probably wasn't that long. I think the most squares I made in a day was 8.

This was my first time making clothes (except for a wrist warmer which doesn't count because it was just an excuse to practice knit stitch) and I'm super proud of how it turned out. Anyway I'm pretty sure the yellow for the trim and cuffs is the same yarn I used in my very first project (the aforementioned wrist warmer) like ten years ago.

I'm not wearing a wig due to sensory issues and the fact I cannot style my own hair and you want to trust me with a wig??? Also I think my natural hair is Very Howl

I might make the body one or two rows longer but that's a quest for future me. I never want to see a 3.5 inch square again right now.

[Image ID: a photo of the same person in the same outfit as above. They are are standing differently and the jacket ends higher on their body. The image cuts off at the knees. End ID]

I really like this picture. The vibe is right. But the jacket rode up and looks bad. Because the main point of this post is to show off the jacket it didn't feel right to use this as the main pic. But just know, This photo rocks imo.

[Image ID: The first picture is of a little jar full of blue yarn scarps, with black yarn tied around the neck, and beads hanging from the black yarn. The second is of a blue bead hanging from an ear. The bead appears twice in the image due to the fact it is swinging. End ID]

A couple months ago one of my favourite bracelets exploded (as cheap bracelets are wont to do). So I reused the beads in other jewellery, for this project and in others.

The earrings are just beads on clear thread hooked over the ear, but what's cool is that every time you try to take a close-up picture of them, they swing so fast they show up in the picture twice.

[Image ID: a brown stuffed alpaca with the pink and purple jacket hung over its shoulders and a pink star necklace around its neck. End ID]

Calcifer the alpaca has claimed his rightful crown. Also the pink star necklace represents Calcifer in this outfit

[Image ID: Three close ups of squares from the cardigan. The first in a pink square with a darker pink swan embroidered onto it. The second is a purple square with an eye shaped pattern in the middle and a blue pupil. The third is a pink knitted square with large round bumps sticking out from it. End ID]

My favourite squares. The Na Daoine Maithe one in the sleeve, the Magnus Archives one on the back, and the bitch that gave me 14 heart attacks to only end up "okay looking". But it is Tactile so it gets a pass.

#long post #is mise an crann #crochet #knitting #handcrafted #handsewn #cosplay #howl cosplay #howl pendragon #howl jenkins pendragon #howls moving castle #hmc #ghibli films #ghibli #studio ghibli #m'aghaidh #<my face tag #although my face is not present #well work up to it #also if you saw me post this last night no you didnt #I could have sworn that button said Save Draft #not POST #I've put a lot of tags on this because this project took me like 6 months and i refuse to let people not see it #okay to reblog

[knightfire]

I don’t think I’ve shared this yet.. Here’s how the two-faced Al/Husk ornaments from my RadioHusk Christmas tree happened:

It all started with a bag of cheap wooden ornaments.

I found these in my junk box and realized I could paint them with Husk’s wing pattern and add a gem sticker to the middles.

I used gold heart-shaped glitter to make the gold hearts on his primary feathers

Originally I thought I’d do both sides like this and then I thought that would make me end up with a Husk tree, not a RadioHusk one.

I painted the Al side lime green to both reference the green color of his powers and to contrast with the Husk side. I used the gold heart gems I already had but if I’d had red, or even a deep pink, I’d have used that instead.

I added some black antlers and originally some drops of darker green glittery paint. I hoped they’d look like globulous masses of dark magic bubbling in the lime green background, but they dried VERY ugly.

I scraped those off and added white beaches of electricity instead, then covered the dark green stains with clear spots of glitter. I added these onto the wire spots on Husk’s side to help them match

These glow dimly in the dark!

#hazbin hotel #fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel alastor #radiohusk #crafting #fandom fun

[dinhvand123]

Dark and Darker Loading Screen Art Showing Scared

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Dark and Darker Loading Screen Art Showing Scared Adventurer Surrounded By Gold

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[artemis-pendragon]

Heat of the Moment (an un-ironic post-canon kind of fix-it Destiel fic for Nov 5th 2023)

Summary: Dean and Cas are attempting to escape Heaven through a secret exit, but before they can get there, they have to make it past the darker, memory-driven corners of the ethereal plane and survive the angels sent to retrieve Dean's soul...

It was Thursday and rain battered the cheap glass windows at the cheap-ass motel they’d stopped at when the Impala’s highbeams failed around midnight. Dean and Cas had been arguing for at least twenty minutes before the decision was made for them, and Dean wondered (not for the first time) if there wasn’t a hint of acquired sentience about his car. Maybe she didn’t want to end up wrapped around a tree, or perhaps she was just tired of the bickering. Either way (although Dean would never admit it) stopping for the night had been the right call.

Cas was supposedly in the shower, but the water hadn’t come on and Dean had the feeling that Cas was taking a few minutes to arrange his face into an expression of angelic neutrality. Dean hated losing arguments, but Cas seemed to hate winning them. Maybe it was because Dean sulked afterward.

Real mature, said the evil little voice in Dean’s head that, if he stopped to examine it for more than a second, was labeled ‘The Voice of Reason’ in big gold letters.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, and threw himself onto the twin bed nearest the window. He crossed his arms behind his head, stared up at the ceiling, and wondered if he should check for bed bugs. Nah. Heaven probably didn’t have any. Even here, in this dark corner of the eternal realm designed to frighten him back toward the heart of it, that would be a bit too much.

Cas came out of the bathroom, still fully clothed, and lied to Dean’s face about having showered. And there it was: the neutral expression. The careful concealing of smugness or triumph.

“I’m done with the bathroom,” said Cas, and walked to the twin bed at the other end of the (tiny, dingy, barely lit) room. “If you need to—”

“Nah, I’m good.” Dean cut him off, staring at the ceiling and watching Cas in his periphery. “Could go for a drink, though. Did you see a vending machine out—?”

Crash. Shards of glass, an explosion, fiery, blistering.

Dean rolled off the bed into darkness. He hadn’t closed his eyes, had he? Oh, shit. Had the glass gotten—

“Dean, Dean, stay down,” Cas’s voice growled in his ear, and oh, yeah, feathers. Cas had wrapped them in his wings.

“Ready or not, here I come!” a voice yelled. Angelic, pitched high, reverberating between walls stained with substances unknown even to God, wherever the fuck He’d gotten off to. “I told you—”

Dean reached up and under the hotel pillow, shifting black feathers, fingers searching until there! He extracted a silver dagger, the hilt a polished cylinder, the tapered blade an exquisitely narrow pyramid ending in a wicked point.

 “Dean—” said Cas, low, warning.

“Oh three,” said Dean. “One, two, th—”

Cas rolled over, opened his wings, and Dean used his momentum to dodge a blast of holy white light aimed at the spot he’d been a moment before. He clutched the blade in one hand, the other clenched into a fist, and dove at the slightly glowing man standing just inside the shattered window.

Dean was a shadow. A ghost. A breath of wind, the crack of thunder after the lightning has already struck. He ducked another blast, rolled to the side, and grabbed the avenging angel by the wrist. Tug down, over, a shove, and his opponent was on the ground.

Thunk. The angel blade sank into the carpet. It nicked the angel’s throat but missed the mark. Dean struggled to pull it back out, and as he did—

“You haven’t been authorized to leave Heaven,” said the angel. “Your soul must be returned to the Fold, and if I have to damage it in the process, then—”

“No,” said Cas. And there he was, wings flared, eyes glowing blue. His hands cupped blinding light. Poised. Ready. “Rakiel. You will leave us alone. You will stop pursuing us. You will let Dean go.”

“Your words are powerless,” said Rakiel. He raised a hand and summoned an angel blade of his own. “We should have killed you many years ago, Castiel.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” said Dean. The angel blade unstuck and he straightened, sweat beading on his neck, his face, heart pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer. Rakiel was facing Cas. Ready to strike. And Dean, in a moment of time-slowed clarity, had an idea. “But you didn’t. And now you can’t. Funny how that works.”

Rakiel whirled. His eyes, glowing, furious, raked over Dean’s now-kneeling form. On the angel blade, held as if still stuck fast in the carpet, Dean’s only defense.

Dean stayed where he was.

Rakiel lunged at him, blade raise.

And Dean, lifting his dagger and bracing it in front of his chest, prepared for the blinding eruption that came with an angel’s death.

The blade stopped just shy of Rakiel’s chest. Or, rather, Rakiel stopped just shy of the blade. For all Dean’s speed and battle prowess, this man-shaped being was an angel. He should’ve known a cheap trick like that wouldn’t work.

Dean lunged. He knocked Rakiel’s weapon hand aside. With his focus on the dagger that’d almost impaled him, the angel lost his grip and the silver blade spun away across the room, landing with a thud just outside the bathroom door.

All this happened in under two seconds. A flash, the first chain reaction at the center of a nuclear explosion.

Rakiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s blade by the hilt, pushing away as Dean shoved forward. A stalemate that Dean couldn’t possibly win.

“You think you can best me, Righteous Man?” sneered Rakiel. “You, human, think that—”

The blade shifted, started to turn toward Dean.

“No.” Cas. Cas vaulting over the twin bed and seizing Rakiel by the shoulders, standing behind the other angel, wings spread like a starless night. “You will not hurt him.” His eyes, still glowing, dimmed just enough for Dean to see the pupils at their center: black holes surrounded by stardust. “Dean,” he said: a question. A request.

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Do it. We know what these bastards want. No need for prisoners.”

Cas shoved Rakiel forward.

Shenk. The blade slid into Rakiel’s body just under the V in his chest. Dean leaned into it, got in close, face inches from the dying angel’s.

“You know what they say about fucking around,” Dean said.

Rakiel screamed, head thrown back, light spilling around the fatal wound. His eyes shone, a flash of ethereal white, and then the angel was gone, vanished, erased.

Dean dropped the angel blade. He blinked, vision clearing, and there was Cas. Standing right in front of him, expression open, neutrality forgotten.

“Dean,” said Cas. His voice was a low rasp, sharp with adrenaline.

“Cas,” said Dean. “Fuck it.”

And he kissed him.

Cas kissed him back.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Dean. “You know we’re getting close to the exit if they’re sending big shots after us.”

Cas stared at him with such a blend of surprise and shock and hope and elation that Dean felt like he was staring at the summer sun.

“What?” he said.

“Dean,” said Cas. “I’m picking the music.”

“Oh hell no. You know the rules: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his—”

“I’m driving,” said Cas, and dodging around Dean, he headed for the still-locked motel door.

“Like hell you are,” Dean yelled, and sprinted after him, out into the parking lot. “Cas! Don’t you dare!”

The Impala’s heart would have sunk, if she’d had one. Despite her best efforts, it seemed she was, once again, doomed to a long rainy night of sexual tension disguised as the most pointless arguments that Heaven, in all its vast eternity, had ever heard.

#welcome back to me writing soup or natural fic in thee year of our lord 2023 #destiel #supernatural #spn #destiel fic #nov 5th #spn fanfic

[1nksta1neddesk]

A Court of Readers and Dreamers

Chapter 3: Rule #1, Magic

Word count: 2420

The next day I sat waiting in the house, twirling the pommel of a hunting knife in my fingers as my leg jumped up and down under the table. I had sent the pelt with Nesta into town, knowing she would catch a fair price even with the cheap skates that frequented the market. Elain had gone with her, intent on browsing the wares.

So that left me, sitting next to my father who stared at me with a pinched expression. I had found a piece of scrap cloth, drawing out a map of snares I had set up early in the morning with a piece of charcoal from the hearth. I knew Tamlin took care of the Archeron’s with copious amounts of riches, but I did not know how long those riches would take to be delivered and until then my family still needed to be fed.

But the map had been done hours ago and I was forced to stare at the chipped paintings of flowers and vines I had painted one summer when Elain had gotten me those 3 tins of paint, claiming she remembered how I used to love painting as a child and how the summer was so prosperous I should take time for the arts again. I had smiled, thin and pressed as I tried to restrain the tears that Elain took to be glee.

I had gone into the woods that night and slept in a tree, needing time to settle my soul that was writhing in pain as my mind raced with the full and complete realization that I had taken the place of that little girl Elain was trying to comfort, that there was no one who could truly know me in in the entirety of this world.

That had been years ago though and now I had my brows knit in concentration as I contemplated how I would get back to my own world. I still had not come up with an answer for that as my father spoke to me.

“Why didn’t you go to the market with your sisters?” he asked, hand coming up to massage the creases forming between his brows. I jolted, startled by the words before answering.

“They needed a day out of the house without me breathing down their necks,” I said, sighing before letting my back slouch against the chair, “ and I did not want to go to the market, I already have a headache”. It was true, my head had started to pound the moment I was left with my thoughts. He grunted and accepted the half-truth, eyes focusing on a small piece of wood I had brought in for him that morning to carve.

My leg went back to jittering for a while before my father turned to me again and suggested I take the energy outside, it was disturbing his focus. I saw myself out, deciding to chop more wood as the stack had dwindled to twigs after a long night. The movement of the ax did ease the anxiety tightening in my gut, worried the curse hadn’t sought its claim on me as the hate in my heart had not been targeted towards that male.

My skin itched as sweat accumulated underneath the jacket, hair prickled at the back of my neck as a cold wind caked snow into my hair. The sisters came back to the house a few hours later, the sunlight turning golden as I brought in the pieces of wood, settling them in a stack by the hearth and rekindling the fire that had fallen to smoking embers. I let Elain rest while I cooked dinner for the night, needing to move as the time drew nearer and nearer.

The family ate, Elain and Nesta chattering about some girl they had run into, and how she thought someone’s son was going to ask for her hand soon. I thought to the original story, how Tomas Mandray was to ask to marry Nesta, how I had dissuaded the possibility of that marriage through the years. I had brought up time and time again the fights I heard coming from the house while hunting, the bruises we could all see blooming on the poor woman’s cheek the next week at market.

I let my mind wander, sitting back in the chair as I chewed on a piece of gristle that had ended up in meat. The night grew darker, the gold sky turning blush pink and violet before dark indigo took over. I was half asleep in the chair, facing the door, knife held loosely in my hand as I waited. Someone, most likely Elain, had taken my plate. My father and the sisters moved toward the fire, warming themselves as much as possible before they had to sleep through another cold night. My feet already ached with the cold as I still sat in my chair, waiting and waiting and waiting for that-

A roar shook the house as Nesta and Elain screamed, scrambling towards the far wall of the house as the door came crashing in. Puffs of white snow flooded in around the beast, gold fur already laden with ice as he growled.

I was standing now- somehow having placed myself between the High lord and the cowering girls behind me, their father slowly dragging himself in front of them as well. The three of them hid behind me, as my grip on the knife tightened. Now that I saw the fae lord I knew the blade would be no more than a thorn in his side if I ever sunk it there, but the blade wasn’t to defend myself or my family. It was an act - a scared mortal woman trying to fight off a beast after killing his kind.

He reared, creme underbelly being revealed as his claws sliced through the air, muzzle dripping with frothy white saliva as he yelled, “MURDERERS”. I heard my father go to move, to beg the fae beast for my life, but I put out my hand to stop him, barring him from moving forward before the maw opened again to roar the accusation again.

The girls still begged, even as my father crouched next to me, peering up at me with eyes that seemed conscious for the first time since that creditor had appeared. “We didn’t kill anyone!” Nesta wailed as she shifted Elain farther behind her.

I looked the beast in his eyes, clenching my fist yet again as my palms had grown damp with sweat as I tried to calm my heart.

“WHO KILLED HIM?” he yelled again, spittle landing on my arm as I raised my hand.

“I did”, it was a statement, no denying the life I had taken as Nesta and Elain yelled out at me, asking when I had killed a fae. I waved my hand at them, shushing them for a small time as Tamlin snarled at me again.

“You lie to spare them”, his growl served to cover his shock and I could almost hear the hope undercutting it all.

“You can look at them and think they can take down a Faerie? Combined, they can barely take down a tree” I spoke, stepping further forward, closer to those dripping jaws.

“I killed it, left the body in the woods because it would have been too heavy.” I let him mull over the words, hoping he would only see the truths that smoothed over my real reasoning.

“Did it attack you? Were you provoked?” He asked, nails digging deep gouges in the wooden floorboards.

“No, he attacked a deer that I had been about to kill- we were about to starve.” Another half-truth as his eyes darted to the dirty dishes that still held remnants of the venison, though he could surely smell it still lingering in the air. He looked back at me, green eyes locking with stormy blue ones as he growled.

“The treaty between our lands demands repayment, a life for a life. Any unprovoked attacks on faerie-kind by humans are to be paid only by a human life in exchange.” The lie would have worked if I was Feyre, it did work on her, but I would not cower in the face of a man who I knew put the weight of his court’s lives on my shoulders.

“Then let Prythian claim my life.” I said, words measured as I tried to block out the sobs coming from behind me, small whispers of ‘Feyre, no’ making my heart ache as I still stood ramrod straight in front of the beast. Those green eyes darted around my face, trying to see further into me than I was willing to bear.

“Willing to accept your fate so easily, mortal? To die at the hands of a fae?”He huffed, still peering at me. The white puff of moist air warmed my face as I peered up at him.

“I did not say I was willing to die, I said Prythian may claim me, not you” My chest was drawing tight, making the words come out strained as I tried to keep steady breaths and failed. Another hot huff of air from his muzzle heated my face a degree, and I could almost sense a hint of pride at a mortal twisting his words.

“For having the gall to twist the call of the treaty, you may stay on my lands. Live there for the rest of your mortal days and forsake the human realm”

My father spoke again, not heeding my glance and hand as he croaked out.“Please, good sir—Feyre is my youngest. I beseech you to spare her. I- She’s all we-” I shushed my father before he could continue, turning to him and grabbing his shoulders as I spoke, “I either die here or I can go- I set traps and I have a map-”. Tamlin cut me off with another roar, impatient prick.

I turned back to him as I set my shoulders, “ When do we leave?”

“Now” he snarled out as he turned and left into the snow. As soon as his hind legs left the door, Nesta was grabbing me by my shoulders, shaking me as she shouted into my face.

“You stupid girl! You just gave your life to that Thing”, her words were nearly as guttural as Tamlin’s snarls as she continued, “-without you we- and you will die over there in who knows what gnarly manner-tortured and strung up to be made a spectacle.” My neck hurt from being shaken so violently as Elain wrapped herself around me, sobbing into my shoulder as she pleaded.

“I made a map of snares, you will not starve, and would you rather have had me gutted here? I can survive over the wall.” I tried to soothe their worries as my words were truth, as much as I could give them. My father had managed to use his cane to stand next to us, Nesta pulling Elain away from me, dragging both of them into the room as he moved toward us.

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly as I knew Nesta was trying to protect me, and as I turned to leave toward the door my father caught my arm and looked into my eyes.

“Live, on the other side of the wall. If anyone can, it would be you Feyre. You’ve-” A snarl from outside cut him off as I drew him into a hug, the first hug I had ever shared with the man.

“Goodbye, the map is in my drawer in the bedroom, talk to old Jacob up the road, he will show you how to reset them” I left for the door, grabbing the patchworked jacket before -

“You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.” He called out again, leaning against the wall that connected to the room the sisters were cowering in. “If you ever escape, ever convince them that you’ve paid the debt, don’t return.” I smiled meekly as I stepped into the snow, patting the door frame as I left.

Tamlin stood outside, looking toward the woods before snapping his head toward me when the first bit of snow crunched under my raggedy boots. He started towards those woods I had used to stay alive and train for this day. I rushed to follow as his long legs made his leisurely pace a small jog for me. White puffs of air left my nose every time I exhaled.

I nearly tripped over a few sticks as we went further and further into those dark woods. Several minutes passed where my feet grew numb before the shining white coat of a mare appeared beside a tree.

She lowered her neck, long and corded with muscle as he motioned for me to get into the saddle. I had never ridden a horse, though I had seen many people in town using them to pull carriages or to travel back to their homes. I grabbed the saddle and tried to haul myself up, foot catching on the stirrup as I struggled. It was a long minute that left me flushed with embarrassment before I was able to throw over my other leg, panting as I finally sat in the saddle.

The mare set into a steady trot, following Tamlin through the dark forest. Her body radiated heat that warmed my legs, and I savored it as I leaned down to brush her side. The night grew deeper as I kept the position, soaking in the heat as snow collected on my hair and back. Every few minutes I would check to make sure I could still see those spiraling antlers and gold pelt, just to make sure I was not dreaming as I pinched my leg every time I saw the huffs of breaths as we went further and further into the woods, toward the wall.

“What’s your name?” I called out to him, it would be complicated to explain if I said his name without him ever telling it to me. A low growl shook some light snow from its place upon the branches.

“What does it matter to you, girl?” He didn’t even look back over his shoulder as he let out another growl, conversation clearly over. I went to ask another question, but the ringing taste of metal filled my mouth and I couldn’t resist the pull towards a dark sleep.

#acotar #fanfic #acotar rewrite #reader #reader insert #A Court of Readers and Dreamers #InkyWrites #I still don’t know how to tag on Tumbler guys #I have the little presets I have set up that are just the barest bones of the story

[pzfr]

🔥 + Comics! ( British comics in particular, if you're feeling spicy 'bout those )

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

[[ As it pertains to comics (with emphasis on the genre of superheroes), the must-read recommendations for the longest time were because they were 'dark' and I am sick and tired of the lighter vs darker storytelling argument that I still run into on occasion as standard fare is scrutinized (run of the mill stuff isn't cheap-- told well it can say something too!) and the actual explorative metafiction is overlooked.

Like. Watchmen, Miracleman, Dark Knight Returns, Animal Man/Doom Patrol, and more, all these products of the late 80s 'British Invasion.' These were good because they were approached with prose and poetry in the writing, in tandem with art that was allowed to go off the rails of conventional style.

Immediately after the invasion we got Rob Liefeld and company. They were pioneering creator rights over at companies like Image Comics. But they mostly favored gratuity over prose. Still 'fun' to read and the early stuff occasionally speaks some truths about the state of the industry. But it was overhyped by the doomed speculator boom. If you take them as part of the wave of the late 80's, they're pale imitations as literature.

And then after this 'dark age,' a lot of the writers making deconstructions came back around years afterwards to make straightforward celebrations of the comics medium and the superhero genre of the gold/silver/bronze ages and its potential future. To name but a few: Tom Strong, Supreme onwards from #41, Kingdom Come, All-Star Superman. They're analyzing the components and the whole again, but building instead of disassembling. It is possible to be the voice of either! And we need the voices of both!

#viopolis #[ask] letters column #[IC] Stand A Chance

[mihotose]

ok ive spent several days reading kenran zuroku heres my favourite facts/details i didnt notice bc i dont pay close attention

imanotsurugi’s hair touches the floor when its loose

maeda has leaf patterns on the lining of his cape that change between white and purple depending on the angle

all the awataguchi tantou besides yagen have ribbons around their uchiban shirt collars and most of them have dark grey ribbons but maeda’s is yellow, houchou’s is light grey, and mouri’s is a green darker than his hair

midare’s sentou shorts have a gold flower on his hip (hidden by his dress)

gokotai’s tigers all have unique designs and have either sky blue or gold eyes hence why his kiwame tiger has one gold one sky blue eye

gokotai’s eyes seem to shine in the dark

aizen uses a red cord as a belt but he struggles to untie it every time lmao

sayo isnt good at tying bows so theyre all wonky..........

i already knew this but nikkari doesnt wear Anything under his uchiban jersey

izuminokami and horikawa’s eyes are shinsengumi haori blue (straight up didnt make the connection)

urashima and nagasone’s wear their kotetsu straps the same way but hachisuka has an extra strap on his left upper arm and around each ankle

the white kotetsu shirt is like a blacksmith’s outfit. urashima and hachisuka have the same but urashima’s wears his like nagasone

URASHIMA HAS THE SAME HAIR TEXTURE AS HACHISUKA HE JUST STYLES IT LIKE NAGASONE

urashima has fishscale patterns on his uchiban jinbei

nakigitsune wears a tie during uchiban he just has his jersey zipped up over it

the samonji have a decorative knot hanging from their chest. sayo’s has one loop souza’s two kousetsu’s three

hachisuka is the only kotetsu to wear that long sleeved black top under his kotetsu shirt

hachisuka has a high centre of gravity with a feeling of floating and weightlessness compared to nagasone’s low centre of gravity and groundedness

his waist armour was designed to be like a tennyo’s hagoromo and his hair is like a halo

nagasone’s uchiban vest is soft after many washes

his hair ties are cheap (vs hachisuka’s. golden flower hairpin.) and his hair is “animal-like” (despite not being a ‘real’ kotetsu etc)

nagasone’s waist armour was designed to be like blackbird feathers and i literally couldnt read it properly but urashima’s may be a grass skirt? if i read it right.

akashi has a habit of fiddling with his hair

he rolls his left sleeve up so he can swap to his left hand in emergencies

all the osafune have an emblem on their uchiban jersey’s right sleeve

shokudaikiri has a sliced moon/fire in gold

kenshin and azuki have a sparrow feather/bamboo in blue and pink respectively. i think the small feather filament may represent kenshin and the bigger one azuki?

daihannya has coins in gold

koryuu has a dragon claw in purple

chougi has a flame(?) in grey

shinano’s hair is just long enough to put in a tiny ponytail

he has a kaishi ire (tissue/notepaper case) in his inside jacket pocket

things he keeps in his garter pouches: portable sewing kit, ointment, umeboshi, bandage, candy, nail clippers, etc

hakata is very lucky cat themed

he carries a pen (with a lucky cat logo) and notepad on him into battle

he puts little clips on his trousers in uchiban to keep them rolled up

houchou’s bag has both japanese and western sweets

his armguard has a vague rabbit design

he has a little bird netsuke on his belt behind his back!!!

taikogane’s hair looks like a bird’s nest in the mornings

his uchiban tshirt has date masamune’s maedate moon on it

fudou’s hair goes down to his calves

mouri has to wrap his belt around him twice

kenshin and azuki both have dango hanging from their belts

they have the same handkerchief in their back pockets in uchiban: white with pink azuki beans along the edge

kenshin has azuki beans on the soles of his uchiban wellies

kenshin’s uchiban socks have two azuki beans on the side while azuki’s have three

hyuuga’s two black hair strands comes from the two gomabashi engravings in the blade

the blade was often used as a gift which is why he has so many ribbons and bows

when he puts his hood on he takes his hat off and puts it in his belt

his hair accessories are omodaka shaped (ishida-ke mon)

his uchiban water bottle has an umeboshi onigiri keychain hanging from it

kotegiri has five moles in a circle on the back of his right hand and two under his right eye

several of muramasa’s layers have gaps cut out so he can screw his tail in

kikkou’s uchiban scarf has embroidered chrysanthemums in gold thread

nansen wears toe socks

his kusege flutters in the wind but returns to its original position

his uchiban jersey has the same ring as his collar but in silver as his zip pull

juzumaru’s eyeshadow is made with lapis lazuli which purifies the soul and wards off evil

hes very heavily lotus themed with lotus pink and lapis lazuli blue coloured accessories

his beads change between black and white depending on the lighting except the three large ones which are ultramarine blue

his uchiban boots have a pink version of nikkari’s kyougoku-ke shiroshouzoku pin?

the two metal parts on ookanehira’s collar come together to form a butterfly except he always has his collar open so they dont join

daihannya has a LOUPE

koryuu’s studs are the same purple as his eyes

he has a satchel on the back of his belt with medicine, a compass, letter scroll, writing set, map, koban purse, etc inside

he has five hairpins on his right side and four on the left

higekiri and hizamaru get new white symbols on their jackets with each toku representing onikiri, shishinoko, and tomokiri, and kumokiri and hoemaru

kogarasumaru’s sentou is inspired by the battle of dan no ura, with the frills on his right shoulder representing the waves

the lining of his suihi has a pale cyan to vermilion gradient that changes in the light

he is barefoot and graceful as a ballerina, inspired by an anecdote of a tiptoeing crow

azuki’s uchiban tshirt is white with pink sparrow and bamboo designs

shizuka doesnt wear that black sleeveless turtleneck that tomoe does in uchiban

tomoe doesnt tie his sleeves up like shizuka does

hizen wears the same pants in sentou and uchiban

chougi wears both SHIRT GARTERS and SOCK GARTERS

buzen has tiny zipup pockets in his knees

chiyoganemaru plaits his hair in uchiban and ties it with a yellow scrunchie with an anemonefish charm

hakusan’s skin feels cold to the touch

his hat has a melon flower pin sewn to it and he has a melon flower keychain hanging from his uchiban belt

gokotai’s nails are tiger fur orange after kiwame

on his shoulders, knee pads, socks, and boots he has four orange spots that are like tiger toe beans

gokotai’s crest is on his tiger’s forehead and it disappears temporarily when he gets damaged

the blue/purple fireballs around nikkari are hitodama

souza’s beads become a greenish blue but can look purple sometimes depending on the lights

the pattern on hachisuka’s breastplate is like maki-e flowers

his kiwame coat has tiger stripes in the lining and is just like urashima’s but his flutters more

his hagoromo (he has his own now!) is iridescent and the section behind his head floats slightly

he has the image of flowing water and petals and the light and open feeling is like he is sitting in a lotus which reflects his extreme internal change (he has reached enlightenment!!!!!!)

#the list is mostly objective fact besides my remarks in brackets but i will say in tags thats entirely mine #Ough the kotetsu sky/sea/land theming. that kinda makes me go Nuts! #also related to that is hachisuka's uchiban obi has the purple clouds on it. #also that kotegiri's moles foreshadowed the placements of the other gous' moles #oops! did i add too many kotetsu design notes into this! well i love them. #gemitus #tkrb #chi translations

[captain-melloartblog]

Name: Lou

Species: human?

-she an lighter but live in dark world since more fun that and her friend is darker who she doesn’t want to abandon her, she talking teddy bear who literally Lou adoptive daughter at this point who chaotic and loud just like her as Lou enjoy spoiling her and taking her around showing her how to fight as she hopes big and strong as Lou some day also her name is daisy

-arms were chopped off to fight that quite blurry memory for her

-used to be janitor in lighter world now is junkie who is troublemaker but heart of gold

-that fun cheap aunt who be cringe but wise when she wants to be and a thrill seeker but not no smarty pants and has rage problems that tends leave to her bottle up her emotions which can be big problem, enjoy saving coupons and wearing most tacky clothing you probably find in dollar store or goodwill and act very cocky when battle heating up which is problem too 😓 but she loving and will adopt as her own

-tends drool a lot which she never explains why but she embarrassed about it and smells of mildew or sunscreen mix of coconut just weird fun fact about her lol

-weapons: any junk she finds laying down but mostly her fist or gun she enjoy using the most

Art and oc’s belongs to me aka @captain-melloartblog

#my art #my oc #deltarune oc #Lou and daisy

[squid-ichorous]

the first scene of SNAPPER, a body horror t4t love story about a guy struggling to make ends meet, maintain personal relationships, and weigh the moral consequences of having a flesh-hungry parasite living in his uterus

He’s here again, sitting in a shitty little hotel bar nursing a cheap well special. The ice melts under the moody lights above the bartop, its shifting silent under the din of bro country. He idly swings a sneaker-clad foot against the leg of his stool, shaking peachy-pink bangs out of his face. There’s a shape moving towards him, a shape that turns into a decent enough looking guy with a red flannel and a camo cap with a swooshy emblem of lines vaguely resembling a deer. The man’s eyes trace the silhouette of his body. The man extends his hand with a smile.

“Hey. I’m Greg.” He smiles back, letting his voice lilt upwards in register.

“Ty,” he says, lightly gripping and shaking the hand. Greg’s touch is gentle, like the way his mama taught him to treat a lady.

Poor fucker.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Greg asks. Ty nods and turns a little as Greg perches next to him.

They make small talk and Ty goes through the motions like he’s checking them off of a list: bat your lashes, lean in, mirror whatever he does without being too masc. He’s not a bad looking guy - scruffy dark brown hair poking out from under his cap, the stubble around his lips and along his jaw darker in shade. The sun’s baked some premature lines into his face, making the platonic ideal of a working man. 

Greg compliments his bobbed hair; he doesn’t need to know that it was ten bucks at the party store. The unnatural shine disappears in the dimness of the room.

Ty coyly glances into a compact mirror and he can see what no one else can. Lingering dark circles under his eyes, hidden under what feels like an inch of cakey under-eye concealer. Gauntness in his cheeks, blended out with bronzer and contour. Cracked dry lips scoured with his fingernail and smothered in balm. The mask is still in place though, and Greg’s just enough beers deep to stay blind to it all. Greg leans in, cheap fermentation on his breath.

“How ‘bout you n’ me get out of here,” he says, aiming for a sexy purr and landing somewhere around buddy-you’re-lucky-you’re-so-hot. Ty smiles, looking Greg over through his lashes.

“‘Kay. Wanna come ‘round to mine?” Greg slides off of his stool and offers Ty his arm. Just like mama taught him.

Ty tries not to think of the families. The mothers, the fathers, the siblings. The children and spouses, in some cases. Carrie Underwood, eat your heart out.

He drives, Greg’s enthusiasm having gotten the better of him. He takes a back-assward kinda way, winding in back alleys with Greg’s hand on his thigh, Ty’s skirt shifted up a little and Greg’s thumb stroking the bare skin. He parks and flashes a look at Greg, eyes half-lidded with his lip in his teeth.

The apartment is down a short flight of stairs, behind a door, down a hall, behind another door. One room plus bath, hastily painted slum-lord white, linoleum floor. Furnished in some decent pieces nabbed from campus when the students were moving out. Sure, it’s a shithole, but for six hundred a month it’s Ty’s shithole. He makes it work.

As soon as Ty’s door shuts behind them Greg is on him, pulling Ty close and his lips landing everywhere. Hunger outweighs revulsion.

Checking boxes again. Pulling each other’s clothes off, Ty letting Greg take the lead because he doesn’t want it. So much for gentlemanliness. Greg says some dirty shit about Ty not wearing a bra; Ty can barely parse the words. He hasn’t owned a bra in years anyways.

Greg’s got a tight body, well-muscled and tan. The smell of sun lingers on his skin and for a moment Ty wants to slow down, to feel human warmth. To ask Greg to be gentle and let real threads of connection pull them closer together. He imagines what Greg could look like in the daylight - maybe he has coppery tones in his hair, maybe his eyes shine honey-gold. Maybe he really is a gentleman and had they met anywhere else he’d be a better man.

He’s probably wrong.

Hunger outweighs yearning.

They’re both naked and Ty drops backward onto the bed, landing in an almost cartoonishly coquette pose. Through the miracle of glue his wig is still on. Greg lies next to him and they kiss and kiss, the malt and hops fading like a bad smell you’ve lived with for too long. This has gone on for too long.

Ty hooks a leg around Greg’s hip and rolls, moving Greg onto his back and slowly grinding wet against Greg’s dick. He looks down at Greg, the pity on his face hiding in the shadows of the dark room. I’m sorry, he whispers, before his mind shuts off and something else awakens. Now Greg is meat. Just a big hunk of Okie beef.

It’s not the kind of sickening crunch you’d expect, it’s more like your cousin’s bully mix absolutely fucking up a turkey leg stolen from the fold-up table at meemaw’s birthday party. Unlike most mammals, there’s no bone in there. It’s just veins, cartilage, soft spongy flesh. When the jaws close around it, Ty lets out a soft, shuddering moan.

Then the screaming starts.

Another vital virtue of the apartment is how little sound travels, especially with all the hippie-ass tapestries on the walls hiding the layers of sponge and foam. Greg is screaming and thrashing under him, scared and bleeding and hurling every slur he can think of in Ty’s direction. Even the ones that don’t apply. Nobody upstairs is any the wiser. Something raises his hands and presses them over Greg’s mouth.

Red pools between his legs, splattering when Greg starts bucking his hips to shake Ty off. He tries to grab at Ty and tear him away, beat him, do anything to break free, but the jaws are like a fuckin’ hyena’s and he’s losing a lot of blood very fast.

When Greg stops moving there’s a nudge at the back of Ty’s brain. Hey, kid. Time to move on to the main course.

He puts his earpods in and starts up a multiparter podcast about mail fraud, turning it up as loud as he can. It’s not that he’s interested in the subject, it’s just better than the noises. Ty hooks his arms under Greg’s and drags him to the tub, a trail of blood following them. Great, now he has to clean up all this God-damned blood.

He gets Greg into the tub, although it’s a hell of a task. Greg might as well be a real side of beef with his dead weight; Ty almost wishes he was frozen and could just slide around. That would take far too long though. His freezer isn’t that big. He sits in the tub with the body and props his ankles up on the edges, legs spread wide, and leans back with his head on an inflatable shell-shaped pillow.

Some noise leaks in, like when you’re eating chips and it can be hard to hear anything else because it’s literally inside your head, you know? He can feel the works moving inside him, the teeth chewing slowly, some kind of fucked up peristalsis rippling the wrong way through his bowels. It’ll take all night, but it’ll shut the damn thing up for a while. He pulls out a blanket from behind the toilet bowl and covers himself before closing his eyes. A drowsy food coma to end the day.

#i've written a ways past this but idk how i feel about it #i'll chop and hack at it until i'm satisfied