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str4wkinzi · 7 months

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Just Neuvillette :33

feral mating press w girl dinner/thigh biting + neck marking + hip scratching and overstim pretty pretty please (from comic :3)

NSFW CONTENT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

“Stop squirming.” He demands from between your legs. Leaving bite marks and hickeys along your inner thighs. He’s been teasing you all night. Your pathetic whines to try to convince him to stick his tongue in your cunt fall upon deaf ears.

“Youve got it all twisted, love” he says while kitten licking your clit. He grabs onto your thighs with his nails, digging them deep within your flesh. Your whines don’t affect him. Actually, it only makes him worse. When you whine like a little bitch he gets all hot and bothered. Makes him go feral.

Feral with lust, want, desire.. feral for you. Your body, your everything. He gets lost between your legs. Lost in thoughts about ravaging you to your core.

You wont be able to think correctly without his cock. You wont be able to function without his cock hitting your cervix over, and over, and over again. The thought of you being so dependent on his cock just to do the simplest of tasks really turns him on. Really turns him on.

He gets up, stoping his movements and edging you. He doesn’t give a fuck. He needs you now. He looks down upon your figure. Angrily whining and shaking because you were so close. He slaps your thigh harshly.

He spits at you to get on top of him.

“If you want to cum you earn it.” He spat, digging his nails into your hips, surely bruising them. You try to bounce on his cock, chasing after the release you’ve been deprived of all night. With his nails still digging into your hips you’re unable to go as fast as you both want.

“Too slow.” Is all he says before he starts pounding into you from below, dragging your hips to meet his thrusts.

You’re going crazy on his cock. Drooling with your eyes rolling to the back of your head make you look so beautiful. He starts to rub your clit, if you want to cum so bad, he’ll make you.

As your screams die down after endless abuse to your now overstimulated cunt you try to squirm away. Of course, he notices this and stops. He lays you down next to him. You think he’s finished, you’re wrong.

He swiftly pushes both your legs up, nearly to your ears, and pushes his cock into you for the umpteenth time tonight. He has you in a mating press. He isn’t done with you.

Thoughts of absolutely ruining you flood his mind once again. You going crazy on his cock fuels these delusions. He needs you to need his cock. Your whines of ‘too much!’ and ‘slow down!’ only make him go faster.

You’re crying on his cock, crying because it feels too good. He’s doing this to you. He needs you to know he’s the only man that can make you feel this good. He’ll etch it into your cunt if he has to. Make you’re sweet pussy only for him to use. To destroy.

He doesn’t cate if your cunt has to remember the shape of his cock. You’re his. Every part of you is his. You screaming underneath him is only a indication that you need him to make you feel the best. God, he loves you.

STR4WZ STICKY NOTE < HI GUYZ :3 THANK U ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON MY MAMMON POST! This took alot longer thn expected but ive been busy! ANYWAYS THE LEVIATHAN POST WILL BE DUE NEXT AND I WILL GET TO MY MOOTS REQUEST SOON LOVE U ALL 3

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littledollll · 1 year

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I have had an idea in my mind for days now.

Larissa x fem!reader in the bedroom a chair a the end of the bed.

Reader being placed on the chair as Larissa will lay on the bed giving you a show till she can’t take it anymore, touching herself, eye contact, overstim and just pure smut. And the only thing reader can do is sit on the chair looking at Larissa telling her what to do and how to touch herself, being totally Jaw dropping turned on by Larissa but can’t touch only watch🫣 you can add what you like to this, if you won’t do it it’s okay, I just really love your writing and think it would be so perfect 😫✨

Untouchable

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: this was so fun to write! Ty for your request<3

Warnings: kinda power play, R and L play both submissive and dominant roles, overstimulation, masturbation, begging, Voyeurism.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I want to try something” was always an exciting thing to hear from Larissa, specially if it was in private as she was leading you into your shared bedroom.

She pushed you to sit on the chair and took a few steps back, beginning to undress, “oh giving me a show are you?" You said sitting back. “Mhmm, but you don’t get to touch, not me or yourself, just watch and tell me what you want me to do.” Now that peeked your interest, and not in the good way. “What? Hell no.” You had never seen Larissa even try puppy dog eyes, it worked, she was fucking adorable.

Watching as she slowly stripped of her clothes and sat on the bed. Legs propped up and open. She was nothing but a few steps and you would reach her, but you couldn’t.

“Shit- okay. Let me see you, all of you.” You could see how much it turned her on, for you to be watching so intently. Running her hand down her soaked slit, she used two fingers to spread herself open, presenting herself to you.

She was intoxicating, as if she couldn’t get any hotter here she was, spread and ready for you but untouchable. “Why don’t you show me what you do when I’m not here, Riss.”

Sure it was torture to not be able to touch, but seeing her, hearing her moaning at the touch of her own hands all for you definitely made it worth it.

You watched as she teased herself. Featherlight touches over her body until she reached her destination, her breathing already labored when she actually began pleasuring herself.

She had no trouble pushing two fingers into herself, and god the sight of her struggling to keep control was to die for. It took everything to hold yourself back from getting on your knees and ravishing her. Her other hand was at her breasts, taking turns to equally treat each bud, her hips bucking at the sensation and a needy whine fell from her lips.

“I want..“ Your name on her lips whenever she’d reach a particularly sensitive spot, her back slightly arched to meet her hands with every slight touch. “I want to watch you come undone, over and over again. To hear you beg and cry out for me.”

Your words were spurring her on as she kept her relentless pace. The whole point of this was to tease you, and yet she’s now the one desperately wishing to say fuck it and let you take over.

Her whimpers were all you could hear as she fell over the edge, hips bucking wildly against her hand. Larissa didn’t dare even try to give herself a break, the way you were looking at her was enough of a command. “fuck- baby I-“

You knew what she was going to say. “I don’t care, keep going. I want to see you cum again. You look so pretty when you do, don’t you want to give me what I want?” If you couldn’t touch you’d make her do everything you wanted to do to her, you knew she’d obey.

Your mind was hazy with need, not keeping track on how long this has continued on for. You longed to touch her. To be the one making her come undone time and time again until she couldn’t function. Or at least have her let you relieve the painful ache between your legs, that burning sensation in your stomach. But it didn’t matter how fucked out she was or the amount of power you currently had, this was her game and you knew better than to break her rules.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to look at her face, or follow her hand. The way her face twisted in pleasure was heavenly but the way her hand was so desperately moving against her needy cunt kept you switching views every few seconds.

Almost as if she could see the internal debate your were having, she whimpered out to you, “Look at me , please baby, look at how I touch myself for you.”

Her teary eyes didn’t shift away from you for a second. She thoroughly enjoyed watching your thighs clench together and your chest heave and most of all your eyes fixed on her.

You could only focus on her, the rest of the world around you didn’t exist. Her moans and tired whimpers, the sound of her soaked cunt as she continued thrusting her fingers way past the point of overstimulation at your command.

You allowed your mind to wander. Thinking about everything you would do once you finally got your hands on her. Sure, you most definitely couldn’t handle the painful amount of need running through your body but, Would you do this again? Yes, definitely. Anything to see her like this again.

#larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #Larissa weems smut #principal weems smut #gwendoline christie #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday #larissa weems nevermore #larissa weems x reader

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happysaddca · 12 days

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This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and requires context.

You are a veteran FazCo employee who worked as a janitor (and eventually dates that location's DCA) when the Glitchtrap virus infects the plex. Unlike the game, this virus affects all the mega pizzaplexes, and it leads to you getting mauled by Moon. You nearly die, the DCA is deactivated and replaced after the virus mysteriously vanishes, and eventually you start working at a new plex, with a new DCA and staff.

After a long and bumpy road, you finally have your DCA's chips installed in a functional animatronic. It's time for a reunion.

Parts and Service still creeps you out, even with the changes the tech team here made. At the very least, you’re allowed to wait in the cylinder instead of outside with everyone else.

You take a peek through the glass, catching Gemma and Anika watching you. Your body locks up, and you manage a stiff little wave before focusing on Sun behind them. Sun isn’t watching you (at least, you’re pretty sure he’s not). Sun’s watching the body on the table. Your turn back to it as well.

It’s another Daycare Attendant unit, currently completely off. The color changing material of the animatronic’s pants and paint sits at a muted, muddy brown color, the light not bright enough to bring out Sun’s colors but too bright for Moon’s. When you touch its faceplate, it’s cold, unmoving. It’s an older model, a spare body for the DCA standing outside. And it currently holds the chip that is your

That is your Sun and Moon.

“Everything good in there?” Gemma’s voice is tinny over the speakers. You nod quickly, giving a thumb’s up. “Okay, I need you to back away for a second. Gotta plug in and give the OS one last check before we power them up.”

“Okay.” You give a reluctant half step back, then another at Gemma’s prompting, retreating closer to the wall and the people outside. Overhead, electricity thrums as the diagnostics and repair tools come online, a cable snaking down to plug into the back of the animatronic’s head. “You’ll warn me when they’re about to be turned on, right?” No answer. “Guys?”

The sounds overhead changes, with a chime sequence signaling that no, you were in fact not being warned ahead of time.. Some pseudo-soothing, corporate beeps that remind you of commercials advertising anti-depressants begin, but when you go to approach the body again, the speaker crackles on.

“Stay right there.”

“But I want—” You’re cut off before you can even turn to face the trio waiting outside.

Anika’s frown is made more severe by scarring distorting her forehead.

“We don’t know how they’re going to react to being woken up for the first time in three years. For them, it’s only been a moment since they shut down, and we don’t really know how that… hey. Don’t look like that. I thought you’d already worked past the guilt.”

“No, I have. But. I.” Another chime sequence has you whipping back around, but there’s no change. You shift so you can keep half an eye on what’s happening while you’re talking to everyone on the outside.

“Sunshine.” Sunny speaks over Anika, leaning forward to take the microphone. “Think about what might happen if they come online and hurt you.”

“It’d be—”

“It’d be an accident, but.” Sunny holds up one long finger, indicating that you should wait. You look back at the table again, but there’s still nothing to indicate what’s going on. “Friend, turn your screen around. They’re going to be fretful unless they know what’s going on.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Gemma turns one of the monitors around, showing off a series of progress bars that you don’t know what they mean. She taps the monitor. “Once this hits a hundred percent, they’ll boot up.”

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat eases, just a little. You stare at the little bars slowly working its way up.

“Sunshine.” Sunny catches your attention with his talking-to-children-about-complex-topics voice. “We should stay here until the other attendant wakes up and has a moment to process that they aren’t affected by the virus—and that they’re safe.”

“As safe as they can be in here,” you mumble, and Sunny’s smile widens as he gives a small nod, setting the microphone back on the table. The progress bar fills ever so slowly, and any noise behind you makes you twitch and look back at the animatronic with concern. Your palms itch, suddenly slick, and you wipe at them quickly before shoving them in the pockets of your overalls.

Overalls. You are bringing back your oldest, dearest friend that you’ve not seen in years and you’re wearing the world’s most fucked up, stained overalls. And that does count farmers and mechanics around the world. You take a peek at the progress bar and—how has it jumped up 30% already? It had been dragging just a minute ago! There’s now no way you can slip away into something better, and of course you couldn’t have gone anyway.

The noise from overhead changes, and there’s an error sound, sharp and blunt, followed by the mechanical squeak of the monitor getting jerked back around to Gemma. “Anika, can you grab the thingie?”

“The thingie?”

Gemma gestures vaguely behind her and Sun, who is standing frozen, rays partially retracted as he stares at the table. Anika zips off to find whatever it is Gemma needs, but you’re turning away again, watching as the spare daycare attendant unit twitches.

“Sun?” you ask, stepping closer. The animatronic twitches again, one hand, then a whole leg, spastic and out of control like it’s being electrocuted in bits and pieces. Their rays start to poke out, then snap back into place with an audible click. One gets stuck, tangled up in white and blue fabric. “Moon, Sun, it’s okay,” you say, voice barely audible over their fans starting and immediately going into overdrive. “You’re safe. It’s me.”

“Sunshine!” Sunny’s voice breaks when you are close enough to touch the twitching attendant’s foot.

Your ears pop as the doors open, and you twitch, turning just enough to hold out a hand. “Sunny, it’s okay. I know but… they’re glitching out. I think they’re going to Eclipse.”

“All the more reason to stay away!”

“You stay there if it makes you comfortable, but if they’re Eclipsing…” You turn back in time to catch the rays spring out, a handful caught in the hat, shredding into it. “I’m staying. Sun? Moon?”

There’s no reply from the animatronic, just more twitching and spasming. You want to free the rays from their hat, but this early model has no silicone softening the metal edges. They’re just a bunch of very dull knives and with no consciousness controlling their movements. You settle for touching their shoe instead, feeling the twitching of their actuators. Are they in pain? Can they feel anything at all?

“Hey, be careful in there! I’m unplugging the cords now and sometimes they can be a little whippy.” You grimace, pulling away as far as you could without relinquishing your touch over the moon patch. You give a thumbs up without looking away.

The cords are a little whippy, jerking away from the table and snapping back into the ceiling with such force that it makes them look alive. You hate Parts and Services.

“We’re at ninety percent now. Sunny, if you can step back? We don’t know how they’ll react to another Attendant hovering.”

“Right… right.” Sunny’s voice is closer, and you’re surprised to find he’d crept well inside the cylinder, the distance between the two of you halved. He holds his hands up, retreating back to the door. You stare and he gives a timid little shrug, his faceplate tilted towards the now waking animatronic.

You’ve been around FazCo branded animatronics for ten years now, been in love with one, this one, for almost as long. Even in a new body, even Eclipsed, you know they’re waking from the change in their fans, slowing briefly with a little click clatter click before returning to overdrive. The foot under your hand twitches one last time before stilling and pulling away.

There’s static, climbing up your arm and into your mind as you look up. There’s static there too, a thin, trembling stream from Eclipse’s hidden speakers. They’re staring at you, eyes locked on. You shift, and they shift, ever so slightly, eyes tracking the scars visible on your face.

“Eclipse?” you ask, holding a hand up as they start to answer. “No, it’s okay. I-I am happy to see you. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re both safe, right?”

You have to walk around the table. They still watch you, hands limp at their side until you reach for the nearest one. They flinch away, dragging their hand into their lap, claws catching on the coarse material of their waist ruffle. Once, a long time ago, you’d asked about those claws and Moon had explained they used to play stringed instruments, just like the glamrocks did now.

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell them, taking their hand anyway and squeezing it so hard you can feel a joint in your wrist pop. You toy with one of the claws with your thumb, worrying the little gear that makes it flip back into their fingers, sighing softly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You look up to see them staring at you, and despite things, you give a little laugh. A wet laugh, something sticking in your throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you Moon.”

You don’t know how or when, but a cold hand brushes over the ruined half of your face, stroking the skin just under your eye. It pulls back, metal shiny with tears. You laugh again, hiccuping and holding your free hand up to your face as you force yourself to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here. I missed you so much you big stupid dummy.”

You can’t wait any longer, so you throw yourself at Eclipse, worming your hands under their arms, tucking your face carefully under their faceplate, away from the metal rays. They can’t see you crying like this, but it’s an ugly messy, human thing and their neck ruffle is horrifically itchy. The slow weight of hands on your back make you sob, voice breaking.

There’s a few minutes that are likely very awkward for everyone not currently on or half on the cylinder’s table, but you don’t notice any change until there are claws digging in your back. “Eclipse,” you mumble, lifting your head, but the hands pin you to their torso. “Eclipse, what’s wrong?”

“I-it might be me!” Sunny’s voice trips over itself. “I, we, all of us wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, a little too softly at first. You feel up for Eclipse’s cheek, stroking it gently. “‘Clips, let me up. Sunny isn’t going to hurt us.”

The hands dig, and you can feel those claws in your skin, but they loosen as you continue to push up. You settle on the table a little awkwardly, perched to avoid hurting Eclipse with your weight. You wipe at your eye, trying to clear your vision, before taking Eclipse’s hand again. “Sorry Sunny. I know things aren’t going as planned but…” You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “Sunny, this is Clips. They Daycare Attendant from my old plex. Eclipse, this is Sunny. He’s the Daycare Attendant here in Sandusky. He uh, he helped convince me it was worth trying to save you.” You hesitate. “He and his Moon went through it too,” you say more softly. Eclipse’s grip tightens on you and Sunny grimaces. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s recovered. Sunny, move.” You gesture and he gives you a confused look before stepping out of the way.

Anika and Gemma are staring through the thick plexi of the cylinder. Gemma’s mouth is hanging open, but Anika looks vaguely smug. You hold up your entwined hands in a wave. “That’s Gemma and Anika. Gemma helped get this body back online and you in it, and Anika helped me save you. We saved you.” Oh, you’re starting to cry again.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Gemma’s voice is clipped, and she turns her monitor back to you. You can just barely see some graphs and charts, but the orangey-red lines, and the continued strain of Eclipse’s fans clue you in before Gemma can.

“Oh, oh, Eclipse, you need to restart with just one of you fronting.” You turn back to them, catching them staring at you once again. You twist around to hold their face, stroking over the edge and the craters, finding the large swirl of an eyebrow before you reach their hat. They flinch as you pull at it. “I know. But I’ll stay right here the entire time. I won’t even let go of your hand.”

“Sunshine, that’s—”

“I’m staying right here Sunny,” you say, a little more sharply than you meant to sound, but the intent remains. You don’t look away from Eclipse, leaning forward to press a kiss over the moon’s eye. “I am staying right here. You can restart. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Eclipse stares, and there’s a long, long minute where you worry they’re going to refuse until they burn out but finally there’s a soft stream of static and a nod. Eclipse leans forward as you pull on their hat, freeing it incrementally from their rays. The light from their eyes dims and goes out, their fans slowing a couple minutes later. You pull the hat free successfully, their hand slipping from yours as you check over the fabric. It’s torn and greasy where it’d gotten caught in the gears, but you can probably fix it, if they want. Or perhaps you’ll be able to get help remaking their old hat, if that’s what they preferred.

“Is everything all right?” Sunny’s voice is quiet, and his hand is soft as it rests on your shoulder. You twitch but don’t pull away, watching your attendant’s faceplate intently for any flicker of light. “They’ll turn on again.”

“I know they will. But will they be able to let go? It’s got to be Moon, I think. It’s always been more willing to take control.” Sunny’s gentle verbal prodding compels you to continue. “Sun’s a softie, even if she does have a spine about the rules, her rules. The ones that are important to her. She tried so hard…” You trail off into a cough, swallowing back the lump wrong and making it worse on yourself. You have to wipe at your eyes again, sniffing hard. “But if Moon is scared or upset, they might Eclipse again.”

The startup is quieter, so you miss it in your talking to Sunny, until you feel more than hear the thrum of the animatronic’s inner workings. Sunny steps back, out of reach, when the rays retract, one at a time, jerkily, like the mechanism controlling them is unfamiliar to the Moon currently in control. Because it’s Moon who is waking up now, and it’s Moon’s gravelly voice that lets out a surprised noise when you immediately push into a hug.

“Starlight?”

The nickname is enough to make you cry again, and you squeeze him so tightly your arms hurt. “I’m here Moony. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”

#dca au #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #constellations au #fnaf dca #dca #dca fandom #moon fnaf #sun fnaf #eclipse fnaf #dca ocs #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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xamiipholia · 3 months

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okay y'all seemed to like the last one so here's a few more Horizon 3 thoughts:

Aloy won’t die. It would completely upend the series’ themes and just be really nihilistic.

Since Nemesis is a gestalt entity I think it’s a safe bet that we’ll see Sam Witwer, Carrie-Anne Moss, etc again. I’m curious how they’re going to do it because at least structurally, it’s basically a reaper. Maybe it’ll use different Avatars when communicating like the Leviathan in ME3.

It's gonna take some work to make a flashback/dream/vision not contrived but I would love to see Varl and Rost again. I think we deserve that.

Minerva is gonna have its work cut out for it blocking access to both the dormant Faro Swarm and the ZD terraforming system.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Nemesis has some sort of corruption function that becomes the equivalent of the corruption in HZD. It would be a really fun tech showcase if GG uses Zenith nanotech for machine corruption and leans into mechanical body horror.

If we’re going to Ban-Ur I really really hope they do the work to make the Banuk less problematic and more fleshed out as a culture. A quasi-Spartan society absolutely would not survive in an extreme environment, *especially* without megafauna to hunt. The Banuk characters are lovely and well-written; they deserve a society as well thought out as the Utaru or Carja. I’m honestly fine if there’s retcons or revamps to the cultural lore because the whole “outsider barges in and becomes chief” is rooted in racist, colonial tropes and we just don’t really need that imo.

The most recent footage of Death Stranding 2 (also running on Decima) has me SO excited for the visuals. GG’s gonna knock it out. The facial rendering and animation that Kojima Productions are doing looks industry-peak and I’m sure GG’s gonna match that. Aloy’s Gay Panic™️ scene on the beach in HBS is already top-tier nonverbal storytelling through animation. Digital Foundry actually just posted a really cool tech breakdown of the current Decima engine. I’m especially excited about the environmental stuff. The ocean simulations in HFW are already incredible and I hope they increase verticality in the world. I can’t wait to see the Sacred Lands in current gen graphics.

I really love Kotallo’s DIY arm and it’s so so important to his development but Beta and Gaia now have access to Zenith nanotech, maybe give your buddy a sick upgrade hmm?

Speaking of, I can’t wait to see Beta come into her own. She’s one of the best parts of HFW and Aloy’s character absolutely shines in a sibling dynamic.

I wouldn’t get your hopes up for a romance mechanic. Everyone’s feelings on that aside, it would be really odd from a game development perspective to just overhaul part of how the narrative develops Aloy’s character in the last act of the story. Yeah, there are flashpoints but I would argue that the presence of choice in Horizon is smoke and mirrors- cosmetic at best. Kentucky Route Zero (which you should play) does something similar where the player is given a certain amount of control over the substance of individual conversations and scenarios and it does absolutely nothing to alter the plot, by design. I think it’s the same here - this isn’t really a choice-based RPG, the flashpoints don’t really affect anything plot-wise or for Aloy’s character development. Olin is still out of the story, Nil lives, Regalla still dies one way or another. Aloy’s character development is pretty firmly on rails (think Jin Sakai, not Shepard - you get to guide some momentary character reactions but that’s it). I don’t think HBS is a testing ground either - If they were gonna introduce a romance mechanic I think they’d just do it, and not spend two years making a direct continuation of HFW’s main quest and establishing a specific romance hard-baked into the plot, complete with multiple leitmotifs for the character relationship (which is something they haven’t done before afaik) just to introduce a side quest mechanic coming in 5 years. I genuinely can’t think of any game or dev that has beta tested a major alteration to upcoming game mechanics that way - it doesn’t really make any sense in terms of developer resources, and these games are extremely time-consuming to make. I know this is a thing a bunch of people want and I can totally empathize with that! I just think it’s probably not on the table.

I would bet money the series will bookend itself and the epilogue will involve a) the naming of Zo and Varl’s kid and b) Lis’ pendant.

Mostly I'm just looking forward to being surprised. One of my favorite things that Horizon does is use carefully established elements in the world to pull the plot in unexpected directions and keeping the world grounded while they lean into speculative science fiction. I can't wait to see what Guerrilla is cooking up

#horizon 3 #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #horizon #hfw #aloy #guerrilla games #hzd #horizon burning shores #horizon theories #well not so much theories as observation and vague speculation #and some zesty takes #I love this world though #erend #sylens #varl #kotallo #beta #alva

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saccharineomens · 1 year

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A small Chainsaw Man Analysis

They're referencing this post:

(Sorry i can't respond to your ask directly, tumblr kept crashing)

LMAO ok Anon you win but I can’t promise this will be very articulate or coherent

Ok so when I first heard about Chainsaw Man I heard it was The Manga Of All Time and the anime has been Majorly Hyped and Everyone Loves It so I was curious. Then I went and watched the anime and I was like ‘huh ok I mean. It’s good but it’s not like mindblowing.’

Then I read the manga all the way to the end of part 1 and I understood.

So the world of Chainsaw Man is set in a Fucking Bleak reality. Like, overwhelmingly so. The fact that devils exist and can murder humans on a whim and it’s basically treated as an unavoidable inconvenience because how the hell can you stop them, really, when they’re functionally immortal? The best you can do is kill them, send them to Hell, and hope they don’t die there and revive back on Earth. The protagonist is a 16 year old orphan who sold parts of his body to pay off a “noodle incident” debt inherited from his father, and then the kid was murdered by the yakuza he owed money to because they decided they liked devils, actually, and didn’t want him around killing them. In CHAPTER ONE. Why would anyone enjoy reading about a story set in a world like this?

Because of Aki, and Power, and the family Denji created with them. It takes a while for the ball to get rolling in the story, because they’re strangers at the beginning, but any manga reader is gonna know what I mean when I talk about how they love each other. Denji comes across as a sex-obsessed, horny teen, but that’s just because he craves emotional intimacy and sex is the only way he thinks he could get it. The truth is that his shower/bath with Power was the exact kind of vulnerability and intimacy he was craving, and it WASN’T sexy. The narrative didn’t treat it as sexy. Denji even notes that it wasn’t sexy, to his surprise, but it was nice to be able to be vulnerable with another person. Then there’s Aki, who imprinted on Denji and Power so hard he straight-up was considering quitting being a devil hunter so he could just live a normal life with his new family. He was willing to abandon his obsession with the gun devil, something that he’d been driving his will to live for years, for them. It was Himeno’s death and the letter he read that made him realize that the life of a country mouse might not be so bad, if it’s with the people he loves. (I know that’s a loaded sentence out of context but manga readers know what I mean when I bring up the country mouse, right)

I bring all of this up to show how even in a grim, dark, depressing world like Chainsaw Man, there is hope; and that hope comes in the form of love. Love in a general, not romantic, sense. Love of having toast and jam for breakfast, love of a movie, love of a family.

Now, to Makima.

Makima is Really Fucking Goddamn Powerful. She is literally reality breaking, almost as much as Chainsawman. (For the purposes of this essay, I’m referring to Pochita/Chainsawman and Denji as separate entities.) Makima is able to control anyone so long as she feels she has power over them, and she has a contract with the fucking Prime Minister. That’s a terrifying power. She’s literally the manifestation of the fear of being controlled.

And that’s a lonely existence.

Pochita/Chainsawman says it himself. When you’re so powerful, you struggle to make connections with people. Either they worship you and put you on a pedestal, or they fear you. You can’t get close to anyone, no matter how hard you try. The only way Pochita was able to do so was because Denji had no idea who Chainsawman was.

Makima doesn’t show this emotional weakness of hers, because it directly opposes her powers. If people saw her as needing connections with other people, they wouldn’t respect/fear her, and she would literally become weaker as a result. (The same way that as Chainsawman becomes more beloved by the general populace as a Hero, he becomes weaker.) But there’s a point where we, the audience, get to see this side of her. In her date with Denji.

Quick recap (of one of the best chapters in the whole manga, thematically): Denji and Makima go on a date at a movie theater. They sit and watch like six movies in a row over the course of the day. The first five are packed with people and are funny/entertaining, but not very deep. Neither Denji nor Makima are very impressed with these. Then…I’ll just post the comic here.

The final movie they see is more of an indie arthouse film. Most importantly, it shares an intimate, vulnerable moment between two people who hug. Denji cries because he sees this thing he craves, as I’ve elaborated on. Then he looks over and sees that Makima is also crying. We already know why, as Pochita said: she is unable to get close to anyone, due to the nature of her powers and the nature of her being a devil. Because of this, Makima craves connections with other people.

Makima straight up tells the audience why she’s doing the things she’s doing. If she has control over Chainsawman, she can have him eat other devils and create a world where those fears never existed. She truly, honestly believes this would make a happier life for humans. But the problem with that mentality is that in a world without bad things, in a world without fear…there’s no good things, either. How do you tell how “good” a good thing is, if you have nothing to compare it against? How can you tell that one in five movies is “good”, if you don’t experience the other four?

Why would anyone enjoy reading about a story set in a world like this? Because despite all of the horrible things that happens, love exists. It shows up over and over and over again. Love exists. It was there. It mattered. It was worth fighting for.

That brings me to the conversation between Makima and Denji I love so much, and why the end of Part 1 works so well.

Makima thinks that a world without bad movies fear would be better. She thinks that in this world, she could be loved. She thinks that in this world, humans could be happy forever because they never suffer hardship.

And Denji knows for a fact that that's wrong, because without bad movies, the good movies don't stand out. You can't say that jam and toast is a great breakfast if all you've ever eaten is jam and toast for breakfast.

And that's why Makima is tragic (because she's never experienced the love that Denji has, and never experienced the hardships he has), and that's why Makima is wrong.

And all of this, the whole conflict of the story, is summed up in three lines between Denji and Makima in a graveyard. It's perfect.

#it's also why i love makima. she's such a great character #chainsaw man #chainsaw man spoilers #chainsaw man analysis #csm #csm spoilers #makima #denji #denji hayakawa #op #axbox #anon

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happy-beeeps · 6 months

Text

Missed Communication

accidentally shadowed my last fic so I’m writing through the pain😭 nothing better to heal it than this beautiful man.

prompt from @promptsforthestrugglingauthor !!!

pairing: Poe x mandalorian!reader

WC: 1.5k

Warnings: suggestive content, but nothing explicit! Canon typical violence and some language.

Summary: Poe attempts to confess his feelings. What he doesn’t anticipate is the blaster fire he gets in response.

"I didn't say I don't love you!"

There’s blaster fire whizzing past your head in dazzling streaks of red and green, and you can barely hear the response Poe yells at your back.

"Well you certainly didn't say it back!" You turn just far enough to see him shift his weight and spin slightly backwards, sending a shot square at the chest of one of the taller troopers quickly gaining on you.

“This isn’t really a great time!”

“I was trying to be romantic, you know, confess my love to you right before we die! But no, maker forbid you let me die happy!”

“We aren’t going to die,” you hiss, tapping the side of your helmet to attempt to get the scanners to work. A shot that ricocheted off your bucket earlier had the systems acting haywire, and right now you needed a place to lay low.

Poe has caught up beside you, feet slapping against the clay roads of whatever city you’re in, Er’Kit isn’t the largest system, and you can’t help but feel his huffing is only half from the strain of running.

This wasn’t really supposed to be a huge mission. An old contact had simply arranged an exchange of information (which was largely outdated) and you and Poe had been assigned to basically pick it up and bring it back to base. His X-Wing was still waiting for one more part to be fully functional and he figured joining you on the small ground missions you were now running was better than office work.

Things were going fine until, in an attempt to haggle down the price of a scarf he had wanted with a street vendor, he caught the attention of the small strolling squad of Stormtroopers in the square.

That’s how you ended up here, with shots bouncing off your armor and barely grazing his head.

“I thought we really had a good thing going, you know? We stopped hating each other, we makeout, we’ve fuc-”

“Poe, I mean it.” You grit, turning and firing a shot towards the troopers. It lands, obviously, and the number of troopers has now been reduced by two. They must not have known Poe was coming on this mission, to send such a small squad.

He ignores you, if he even hears you, and is attempting to coordinate a pickup with Finn on his comms. Finn’s voice comes out scraggly and unclear, and it becomes even more evident that the two of you are completely on your own in this mission.

“Kriff, shit.” You mumble, opening up your vambrace and attempting to run a diagnostic on anything.

“Are you done playing?” Poe snipes, but his words lack the venom he attempts to throw at you. You can tell he’s hurt, emotionally and potentially physically, and you almost halt at the sudden strike it sends to your chest. It’s not that you don’t love Poe, in fact you most certainly do, but the last thing you need is an exclamation of love that he’s only saying out of fear.

You move your head to say something until a chime on your arm distracts you. The thrusters in your Phoenix are back on. You know realistically it can’t hold both of you, at least not for long, but you don’t need long. What you need is a boost.

“What are you thinking about?” The panic is palpable, and you realize Poe has been dodging behind your beskar clad body as the shots from the Stromtroopers, shockingly, make their mark.

“I need you to trust me.”

“Do I even have a choice?”

He didn’t, and he knew that. A long outstretched piece of metal poked out from the top of one of the buildings you ran past, and you angled your arm up to send your grappling hook around it. Poe grabbed your torso and the metal wire launched the two of you towards the air. Using the boost, you fired your jetpack and managed to fly up, up, and over a block of buildings. The shots of the troopers died out, and you did your best to land the two of you in a decently secluded block, admittedly not far from where you just were.

Ground met your feet a little roughly, but Poe let go of you quickly before running halfway down the alley and working open a door, before ducking his head in. “This one’s clear.”

You follow him into the small room There’s no windows to the alley and the door, while old, is thick. Instead of windows, small carved out pieces of clay along the front and back walls near the ceiling send beams of warm, bright light into the box of a place.

“It used to be someone’s home.” He states, walking towards one of the overturned, dusty stools and pulling it up right, tentatively putting a hand on it before trusting it with his whole weight.

“How can you be sure?”

He gestures towards the windows, “The Er’kit use small windows for light during the day, that way their homes can stay cool but they don’t need to use excess energy.” He sighs, his head drooping in his hands. You’re both exhausted, and Poe seems to be in some degree of distress.

You walk towards him, kneeling between his legs and placing a hand on his cheek. He looks up at you, brown eyes meeting yours, and you toy with one of the floppy curls that tickles your finger. “You’re pretty smart flyboy.”

He doesn’t say anything, just offers a hmph in response and a soft, sad smile. Your run your hand down from his cheek, over his shoulder and arm when you notice the red spot beneath his beige tunic.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“It’s really… not.” It’s nothing fatal, but a cut this deep shouldn’t be exposed to the sand and air of the system. You grab the scarf from around his neck and he groans, his head picking up and dropping back dramatically.

“Maker forbid I get to keep that scarf.”

You roll your eyes as you wrap it tightly around his arm, working quickly as possible to minimize his discomfort. Satisfied with your work, you pat his arm softly and scooch closer between his legs, so your torso is pressing against him.

“Did you mean it?”

Poe’s brows furrow a bit, as if he has no idea what you could be talking about, “Mean what?”

“Do you love me?”

He scoffs, as if you’ve just asked him something inconceivably simple, like if BB8 was the world's cutest droid, or if Rose makes the best ration cocktails. “I’ve been in love with you basically since the moment we met, figured it was kind of obvious.”

Your heart flutters, chest blooming with warmth as you stretch your hand up to stroke his cheek again. Poe has the softest eyes, big and brown, and you could get lost in them. In fact, you’re not certain you ever want to leave this tiny house, you’re going to live here forever, in this moment. You’ve been scared of a lot with him—scared to lose him, scared of what it means to be with him. You know at the end of the day, he’s it. There will never be anything else like him.

And honestly, you wouldn’t want it anyways.

“I absolutely love you, Poe,” you whisper, fighting the fear of loss, the fear of rejection, grounding yourself in his big brown eyes.

You can practically hear his voice catch in his throat as he smiles, his eyes squeezing shut. He turns his head to kiss the hand that’s currently resting on his cheek, and picks up his uninjured arm and reaches to hold your head. “Thank fuck. I wasn’t prepared to have to tell BB8 why mom doesn’t talk to dad anymore.”

You smack his shoulder lightly, and he laughs into it, easy and clear. Everything with him is easy and clear. You aren’t sure why you expected anything else.

Poe is quick, even injured, and he pulls you close to him and barely gives you a moment to catch a breath before he kisses you. That’s another thing about Poe, you swear you could kiss him for the rest of your life—literally, this man is intoxicating.

The kiss is slow, sweet, but it builds quickly. Quicker than you were expecting. In a moment he’s standing, pulling you up as he goes. Poe’s hands are everywhere, your hair, your waist, as he walks you towards a wall, your back pressed against the smooth stones.

“Love you s’much angel, you’re s’perfect, love you so much, want you so bad.”

Honestly? You’re about to go through with it, whispering sweet nothings back in his ear, fumbling with the buttons on his pants.

Your hand brushes something in his pocket and suddenly, the comm crackles to life, the room now full of Finn’s frantic voice.

“Poe? We’ve got your coordinates, sending you a clear path out now.”

The path comes through on your vambrace, and it’s not a far walk. Poe looks it over, then looks at you, eyes gleaming.

“Copy that, we’ll be at the rendezvous in twenty.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, running a hand through his hair, “they’re just at the edge of town, it won’t even take us ten minutes to walk there?”

He grins, wicked and wonderful and so him, “Sure, thought I’d buy us some time.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe x you #poe dameron fic #sw Poe dameron #Poe dameron fluff #prompts!#star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #sequels era fic

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zeroducks-2 · 6 months

Note

I love your new ask chart you made—How does 30, X, and Sladick sound??

Hi guys ♥♥ thank you so much! I hope you don’t mind that you got lumped together!

30. Tortured together + C. “Let me have this one” + X. “It’s so cold” - Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

(TW: blood, non-graphic torture, needles, long post)

Dick dangles from his chains like a dead body would, not an ounce of strength in his arms and not the faintest attempt of balancing on the balls of his feet; he just hangs heavily and Slade feels like a part of himself is seeping out of him at the same rate as the kid’s heart pumps blood out of his wounds.

Slade hadn’t initially been worried about his own capture. Not the first time it happens, likely not the last. He has a lot of enemies with a lot of resources, he’s been held captive by superheroes and supervillains alike and he knows he’ll get out. But then they brought in Nightwing, bloody and battered to the point of being hard to tell it was actually him, but Slade would recognize him even if he was zipped up in a body bag. They hung him by the wrists to that cross-like structure, not unlike the one Slade is strapped to, and a registered voice announced that watching the boy die was going to function as retribution for the blood Slade had spilled. They provided names and surnames of who the blood actually belonged to, but it’s not like it mattered anyway.

It’s against Slade’s protocol to show that he cares about a hostage, but it doesn’t look like he needs to show anything here; he and Dick have been kept close, so close in fact that Slade has been able to pick up the way the kid’s breathing and heartbeat change, the subtle glances Dick has been sending him from time to time, and even the smallest twitches and jerks his body made as he kept taking beatings and pain.

It’s been… a while. Slade is not sure how long. They douse both of them with icy cold water every once in a while, but there doesn’t seem to be a pattern. They never unbind their arms and a needle taped to Slade’s arm constantly pumps him full of a foul dark thing which inhibits his metagene, takes away his strength and keeps his head foggy enough he can’t think of a plan… but. But his healing factor hasn’t been inhibited entirely, and his skin has been slowly but consistently pushing the needle out while regenerating. It is out now, still hidden by the tape, and Slade is sobering up and his strength is returning, soon he will manage to break free of those chains. But he doesn’t know when “soon” is exactly going to be, and right now Dick is dying.

Someone walks in and it’s like they know exactly what is happening because they are uncapping a syringe, dangerously looking at Dick while they’re at it.

«I suppose you would want to say something to him.» The young man announces, regarding Slade with an emotionless expression like whatever was alive and vibrant inside of him just withered off at some point. «You robbed me of saying goodbye to my father and sister. But I’m not like you, and I will grant you the chance to say goodbye.»

Slade remembers that contract. He won’t focus on the details now but it was a nasty business… the sister in question was a chemist selling her produce to the highest bidder, which then distributed it to various drug lords of three major cities of the east coast. The father was… a collateral victim. It doesn’t really matter now, he’s killed very many people for very many reasons anyway.

«So, any last words you want him to hear?» The boy insists, eyeing an unconscious Dick for a brief moment. «He might not actually hear them, but he’s going to be dead soon. You might as well try.»

Oh, they’re just trying to humiliate him, Slade knows. This is not compassion. «I don’t have anything to say to him. I have something to say to you.» He comments in the flattest tone he can manage. «Let me have this one. He’s been tortured enough while I have barely been touched. I won’t die with that injection, you and I both know this… it is going to hurt me though, a lot. Give it to me.»

«You don’t understand, Wilson. I want you to watch him die. You’ll-»

«You’re a chemist too. Just like your sister.» Slade insists, sharpening his eye. «You know this will not kill me if you inject me. It’ll just make the torture longer and more painful, which is exactly what you want.»

The young man seems to consider, or anyway uses some more precious seconds to think about it. «And why would you want to prolong the torture. You know both you and him are not going to get out of this alive.» He turns to Dick again, then back to Slade. «If I were you I’d just allow him to stop suffering now.»

«Because,» Slade licks his lips, they’re chapped but his mouth is as dry as it can be, so the gesture doesn’t yield much. «As long as he breathes I can hope that you will change your mind and let him go. And I’d prefer to hope for one more day.»

Something shifts in the boy’s expression, and the dull emptiness of his eyes grows anguished for a moment. «This might actually kill you.» He says and tilts the syringe. «It probably will. I am indeed a chemist but my sister was the genius, and this toxin she crafted could flat-line any meta.» He takes one small step towards Slade. «Do you still want it?»

«Yes.» Slade replies, not even startled by how he didn’t really need to think about it for a fraction of a second.

«Are you sure? He’s most likely going to die anyway. And I’m not letting him go even after you’re dead, Wilson.»

«Just give me the goddamn injection, boy.» Slade hisses between gritted teeth, muscles flexing in the restraints that don’t break, he doesn’t have his strength yet. «Come on.»

There’s a beat of silence, then another. Then the young man nods, very vaguely but he still does, and lifts the syringe more while taking another step towards Slade. The idea of watching him die a very painful death has to be too enticing, exactly as Slade was hoping. And then Dick is raising his head, his only visible eye open wide, something wild in the bloodshot and blue. In the quickest, most fluid moment Slade has ever seen he pulls his lower body up like he had no weight, and locks both legs around their captor’s neck, yanking him back and away from Slade.

«No!» The mercenary yells as the struggling man chokes, digging nails into Dick’s thigh with one hand, and trying to stab him with the syringe with the other. But before he can manage there’s the telltale dull crack of bones snapping, then his arms grow limp and fall down, and then both him and Dick drop. The latter is still dangling from his bindings while the former hits the ground with a thud, his neck bending unnaturally.

It takes five more minutes for Slade’s strength to return, enough so he can break free of his own restraints. He’s still way weaker than he should, his muscles are numb from lack of use. He forces them to work anyway.

«Talk to me, Grayson.» He grunts as he holds the kid to the chest after breaking his restraints as well, forcing himself to give a quick check to his wounds and patch up the most severe ones, or Dick isn’t going to survive their escape. There’s a muted mumble in response but Slade hears it anyway, and he thinks Dick just said they should be on a first name basis at this point. He snorts despite himself but it sounds choked like he was about to cry. «We have been for a while now, haven’t we…» He replies, stripping pieces of the dead man’s shirt for makeshift bandages, making sure Dick’s wounds stop bleeding. «You need to stay with me now, kid. Can you do that?»

Dick nods. His face is swollen, cut and bruised, he’s barely recognizable, and Slade prevents himself from holding him too tight because his kid is in so much pain already. He should really stop feeling like crying, though. «Talk to me.» He repeats, carefully pulling a black lock from Dick’s forehead.

«’s so cold.» The other murmurs through split and chapped lips, and Slade doesn’t manage to stop himself any longer and hugs him to his chest, his body is indeed so cold. He’s lost so much blood.

«I know, little bird.» He says to the side of Dick’s head, breathing in and out and pulling himself together. «Let’s get the hell out of here.»

Here's the ask game! Feel free to prompt me again or reblog it yourself.

#long post #Sladick #my asks #my fanfiction #dark prompt game #whump #thanks for the prompt guys!

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centralperkchenford · 7 months

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hi! can you do one where while Lucy was pregnant, Tim and Metro answer to a case where Sava was involved and heavily injured and everyone thought it was Lucy, Tim just shutdown for a few minutes before the paramedics/Bailey says it must be Sava and that's only when Tim starts functioning again. Something like when Aaron mistaken Jake as Tim but this time Tim and Lucy aren't together physically because Lucy was on a day off or smth. 🙏🙏🙏

Chenford + Sava is mistaken as Lucy & Tim panics

I hope you like this!

I would fight for you, I'd lie for you Walk the wire for you, yeah, I'd die for you

Tim sits outside the store knowing there is a group of suspects inside and possibly a hostage. He is about to move in they just need to be given the green light so the hostage is hurt. He sees Mad Dog and Po move in to the store. He counts to ten but there’s no signal for him to move in.

And then Mad Dog’s voice sounds over the radio his voice a mix of panic and fear. “We have a heavily injured woman. It’s Detective Lucy Chen.”

Tim’s entire body deflates and before he even realizes what is happening he’s running towards the store, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. He can’t think, he can’t breathe. He sees black spots in front of his eyes and he feels dizzy. In and out. In and out

Oh god!

“Sergeant!” He hears someone calling after him he’s not even sure who it is. His mind is on Lucy and her being injured. Her being the hostage. His baby girl being in danger too. And there’s no one who could stop him from getting to Lucy.

Someone blocks him from coming into the store and he pushes at their chest but they are stronger somehow.

“Sir.” Says a voice. “You don’t—”

“That’s my wife!” He snaps through he knows his voice sounds weak. “She’s pregnant let me in!”

Someone pushes past them and Tim realizes it’s the paramedics. He’s sees the back of Bailey’s head briefly before she inside the store.

“Let. Me. In.” Tim growls angrily even though his brain still isn’t working. His mind is on Lucy. Injured. And the images in his head are terrible.

He looks up to see Mad Dog looking at him sadly, “Sir she’s—”

And then Bailey’s voice sounds from the back of the shop. “Let him in! It’s not Lucy!” She calls. Tim’s heart beats faster and he pushes past Mad Dog and runs to where there’s a group of people gathered.

Bailey sees him first and rushes over to him. “It’s not Lucy Tim. It’s Sava.” She says reassuringly

“Why was she here?” Tim asks softly trying to calm his heartbeat but knowing he won’t be calm until he sees Lucy with his own eyes.

“As far as we know she was just stopping here to get a drink.” Bailey says. “Wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tim nods although he’s not really listening. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and taps on Lucy’s name. She doesn’t answer right away and he sees black spots in front of his eyes until….

“Tim?” Her voice sounds over the phone and he slumps against the wall, his entire body feeling heavy.

“Thank god.” He breathes. “Where are you?”

“At home—what’s wrong?” She asks her voice full of concern. And he swallows knowing he has a job to do. But he’s not sure he can look at someone who looks so much like his wife.

“Um.” He starts. “There was a hostage situation and they you were hurt. But it was Sava and I feel… I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Lucy makes a soothing sound. “I’m okay baby. Other than your daughter sitting on my bladder. I’m okay.” She says.

Tim huffs out a laugh and runs his hand down his face. “I love you. Just please..” He trails off and Lucy hums in his ear.

“Breathe Tim.” She says soothingly. “Just breathe. I’m okay. Our baby girl is okay. Now go do your job and come home to me okay?”

Tim nods and pinches his nose. “I love you.” He says a little breathlessly. His heart rate is still going fast. He breathes in and out. In and out. Lucy’s fine, their daughter is fine.

“Sarge.” Says Mad Dog and he looks up to see Mad Dog looking at him. “Um I’m sorry I got confused. They look so much alike.” The man looks guilty and Tim normally would be furious at him for not waiting for proper identification, he understands.

Tim waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. It happened to me with my look a like.” He says and Mad Dog looks like he has questions but Tim talks before he can ask any.

“How’s Sava?” He asks. Mad Dog sighs and looks over to where they are cleaning up the blood.

“She’s hanging on. She was pretty badly injured but it looks like she’s going to make it. We just need to figure out which one of these idiots beat her up.” He says. Tim glances over at the three suspects handcuffed and sitting on the floor.

He sighs and motions for Mad Dog to help him lift them up. His mind is still on Lucy.

Once they are back in the shop and heading back to the station, Tim leans his head back against the headrest trying to breathe. In and out. In and out.

The other officers process the suspects and Tim heads to his office ready to finish up and go home.

When he opens his office door, he almost falls over when he sees Lucy sitting in his chair. She stands up when she sees him and heads over to him.

“Hey.” She says softly and he wraps her in his arms feeling relieved and relaxed for the first time since they found Sava.

“Hi.” He mumbles into her hair. “What are you doing here?” She runs her fingers through his hair knowing it calms him.

“I could tell you were still.. worried. And I knew you wouldn’t relax until you saw me.” She says and he shakes his head because she really does know him.

He brings her in and sways with her for a little bit. “I love you.” He says his voice thick with emotion again. “I don’t know what I would have done if—”

“Hey.” She says turning his face towards her. “I’m fine Tim.” She places his hand on her heart. He feels it beating against his hand and then moves it down to her stomach where their baby girl rests and grows. 2 more months and they would be holding her in their arms.

“I’m okay.” Lucy repeats and Tim nods and kisses her while his hand is still on her belly. “How long until you are off?”

Tim shrugs looking at his desk behind him. “Soon. I hope.” He says. She nods and kisses him one more time before she turns to walk out the door.

Tim watches her go and then sits down at his desk finally being able to breathe normally. She’s okay. Their baby girl is okay. He could do his job knowing that she was safe.

He still was counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms and he was at home. He glances at the pictures on his desk, one of their wedding day and a recent picture of them. And then tucked inside one of the frames was their daughter’s first ultrasound. The one before they even knew what she was. He smiles and gets back to work. He’s got this.

***

When he gets home he wraps Lucy in his arms and doesn’t let her go for the rest of the night. He knows with their jobs there’s no certainty either of them will come home and they could be like Sava and just get caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. But he’s going to make sure to try and always come home to her just like she will always try to come home to him.

And that’s something he can hold on to.

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #tim x lucy #lucy chen #chenford fanfic #chenford fic #anon answered

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naussensei · 1 month

Text

His eyes are wide open but everything is pitch black.

All he can hear is the thudding of his heart, the deafening beat of blood pumping to his ears. His breath is shallow, his lungs burn with every sharp breath as he gasps for air. He drags his feet forward, pushes his way through the never ending alley with trouble. The exit must be a few steps away, he thinks. He will make it out of there. He has to. For him. For his family. For the world.

There’s another sound now, a soft ‘plunk” of drops on the ground. Blood, dripping. His own or someone else’s. Probably both.

Shit.

It’s no good. It’ll leave a trail, and that idiot will track him down. Not that it matters anyway. Satoru always manages to find him somehow, with or without a trail.

“Incredible…” he utters, his voice tearing his throat. “Okkotsu Yuta… If only I could get my hands on that curse… Next time, surely I—”

His knees give in before he can finish his thought, his body doubles down in pain.

It’s over.

His legs can no longer hold his own weight, so he lets himself slide against the wall all the way down to the ground.

He opens and closes his eyes a few times to refocus his sight, but only one eye seems to be responsive. He can’t feel one half of his face.

Through his only functioning eye, he looks down at his arm —at what’s left of it– and lets out a breathy chuckle in realization.

Half of his upper body is gone for good.

“Ah, I really screwed up this time,” he laughs between laboured breaths.

His single eye is closed again, there’s no point in keeping it open. It’s done. It’s over. There is nothing he needs to see or do right now. He’s tired. So tired. He can stop now.

He takes a deep breath and gives in to the exhaustion. There is no pain anymore, just numbness, and it’s not unpleasant, at all. He can feel his heartbeats weaken, feel the life slip away from him. He can no longer hear the thudding of his heart, and it doesn’t bother him.

“Still… I lived a better life than any of those monkeys lived… I have no regrets…” he whispers at the wind with one last breath, and waits for it to come. That peaceful relief.

This is what he’s been longing for. It’s what he really wants. Peace.

That’s lie…

A voice echoes inside his head. A voice that he hasn’t heard in a long while, one that he doesn’t need to hear right now.

“It’s true. My family will be ok, they’re strong.” He assures. “They will be fine without me, I’ve educated the girls well.”

Nanako and Mimiko will cry.

That voice, again, rattling in his ear. He wishes it would just go away.

“Yes, but Miguel will comfort them. He’s a good leader. If not, then Larue. I’ve trained them well. They will carry out my dream, even without me. They don’t need me. There is nothing else I wish—“

That’s not true, and you know it.

His hand goes to his ear, as if it could keep the voice from talking. “Shut up.”

I can’t die yet. There is one thing I still want to do.

“No. I can’t.”

He doesn’t want to hear it. He needs to lock away the intrusive thoughts, before it’s too late. He’s kept them at bay this whole time. So why now…?

I want to…

“Stop it. Don’t say it.”

I want to see him one last time...

His nails dig into his scalp. “I don’t have the right to wish for that.”

I know…

“I’m the one who made him promise...”

I know that, but—

“And even if I wanted to see him, he doesn’t want to see me.”

I know. I know... I know all of that. But I don’t care. All I want is to see him.

“I can’t...” His head hangs forward, his hand clutches the remnants of his injured arm, and the pain is back again. He wants it to go away. “I can’t see him. Remember the things I’ve done. I don’t deserve it.”

I don’t care… One last time… Just once… I want to see his face before I…

From: Our Last Summer by Naus on A03

#satosugu #suguru x satoru #stsg #satoru x suguru #gego #goge #satosugu fanfic

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coramatus · 7 months

Text

Black Reshiram AU - part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

Emmet has to take a few days off work. The revelations that Ingo shared were just too much.

He spends the time cuddling his and his brother’s Pokémon teams. The gathered Pokémon do their best to take care of him in turn, keeping him fed and functional. They can do little more than watch in sadness as he cries.

To know that he was so close to getting his brother back, only to lose him to the machinations of higher powers…

It’s not fair… why did they both have to suffer for another’s amusement?

If Emmet ever meets Reshiram, he’ll… Well, he won’t be able to do anything really. But he’ll certainly give that feathery jerk a piece of his mind, Legendary Unovan dragon or not! And to think he liked Reshiram too!

It’s a lot to reconcile.

He wonders how Ingo is doing…

Ingo is not faring much better. He hides away in a cave, curled up in his dragon form, struggling to come to terms with his new reality.

But it feels impossible. Anger and guilt keep bubbling up, constantly reminding him of the unfairness of it all. Why should he have to suffer for the poor choices of others?

But that’s not fair either.

Everyone made the choices they thought best. His parent did it out of a love so misguided and oblivious that only a near-immortal could conceive it. And the old Ingo hadn’t known the full picture before agreeing to essentially die.

Current Ingo didn’t ask for any of this. He’d been perfectly happy living as a dragon, doing whatever he pleased. And now he’s stuck with a mess he didn’t even cause.

But Ingo is not so heartless as to be blind to the greatest victim in all of this:

Emmet.

Ingo’s heart aches at the thought of his once brother left all alone, going through life with half his soul ripped out. He had no voice in the matter and yet he still lost half of his world. Emmet deserves better. He deserves his Ingo, whole and home again. He doesn’t deserve some sad echo of his dead brother. Perhaps he would heal with time, but to even make him suffer through that pain in the first place is unconscionable.

Ingo doesn’t want to abandon Emmet.

But it’s better for everyone if Ingo stays away. He’ll only complicate and confuse things with his identity issues. This mess doesn’t need new layers of mistakes added on top.

Yet he still has no idea what he truly wants out of all this.

Ingo shifts and catches sight of Chandelure’s ball tucked in a safe corner. The urge to talk to someone suddenly proves too strong and without thinking, he releases her.

Chandelure pops out looking a bit rough around the edges, her flames dimmer and glass cloudier than it should be. Her eyes grow wide upon seeing him, her glass ringing out in surprise at the black dragon laying before her.

“…hello,” Ingo awkwardly greets her, lowering his head to her level.

Chandelure stares at him long and hard before asking, “…Ingo?? Is that you?”

Ingo winces and sadly informs her of his circumstances, that he’s just her trainer’s reincarnation and not the actual person she knew.

Chandelure floats over him, carefully scrutinizing his massive feathered form. Reincarnation certainly explains why his soul is in a dragon’s body now.

Ingo tries to argue, but Chandelure doesn’t care as she happily cuddles up against his feathery cheek. To her, Ingo is still Ingo even if he is a Legendary Pokémon now.

Her words remind him of his parent’s odd reassurance over a century ago, that he is Ingo no matter what. Now that he knows what his parent meant, it makes even less sense.

“I don’t understand. I have the old Ingo’s memories but… but they just don’t fit anymore. It feels wrong… like I stole his place.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Chandelure hums. “At your core, you’re still that little boy who caught me as a Litwick all those years ago.”

Ingo winces, “Then, why doesn’t it feel like that?”

Chandelure sighs sadly, but with understanding, “Reincarnation is tricky, even for ghosts. But sometimes bonds can transcend lifetimes. Maybe a bit more literally in your case.”

Ingo isn’t what to make of all this. Everything was dumped on him so suddenly; he isn’t ready for any of it.

Chandelure senses his distress and presses him to talk to Emmet again. She knows how desperately Emmet has missed Ingo. And it's clear to her that even with the reincarnation, part of Ingo desperately misses Emmet too.

Though he can’t deny it, Ingo is still reluctant. He doesn’t think that’s fair to Emmet. It’ll only confuse things between them. He just can’t be Emmet’s brother. He’s physically not that person anymore.

Why not? Chandelure points out that Emmet’s soul is still linked to Ingo’s, there’s nothing stopping them from forging a new bond. It doesn’t have to be that of siblings; they can still be friends, can’t they?

But Ingo still worries. It can’t be that simple… Emmet probably hates him for what he stands for…

At this, Chandelure bonks his snout with a sconce. Emmet doesn’t have a single hateful bone in his body! He is upset and he is hurting, but there is absolutely no way that he hates dragon Ingo. Emmet wouldn’t have given him her ball if he were that upset.

Besides, Ingo is hurting just as much. He needs someone besides just her to be there for him.

Ingo considers Chandelure’s words. He isn’t sure if she’s right, if Emmet would want him in his life at all. But she has a point. Moping in a cave won’t give him answers. If Ingo talks to Emmet, if he gets that ultimate rejection… at least then he’ll know he can move on from his past life completely.

With a soft sigh, Ingo shifts back to his human form. Chandelure floats up to him and he presses his forehead against her glass globe. He agrees to go back to see Emmet. Possibly for the last time. But he has an odd feeling that won’t be the case.

Four days after Ingo’s last visit, Emmet gets a knock at the door. He’s still shaken up and not feeling particularly sociable but answers it nonetheless.

He’s surprised at what he finds.

He hadn’t expected to see Ingo again. At all.

Ingo looks just as tired and miserable as Emmet. His black, feathered dress is a ruffled mess. He keeps his gaze lowered, ashamed.

“…you came back,” is all Emmet can say, clear shock coloring his otherwise dull, hoarse voice.

Ingo visibly winces and says with an uncharacteristic softness, “I… I wanted to talk to you.”

Part of Emmet’s spirit lifts with hope but the more realistic side of him knows better. If Ingo wanted to come back, he’d have said so already. What Ingo wants from him this time, he has no clue. But Emmet is patient and lets Ingo in. He has to hold himself back from simply clinging to Ingo as hard as he can.

Though Emmet is encouraged to see Chandelure hovering at Ingo’s side, her flames burning much brighter than before. She gently bumps her glass against Emmet’s forehead in a familiar act of comfort and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. With that, he follows Ingo to the kitchen table.

Their talk is an uncomfortable one.

Ingo speaks first. He expresses his hopes that Emmet can offer some insights as to their next steps. Does he want to be brothers again? Does he want Ingo out of his life? There’s so many ways to move forward but Ingo doesn’t have a clue which tracks to follow.

But all his questions do is uncover the uncertainty that Emmet feels. In growing frustration, Emmet openly admits that he doesn’t know the right choice any more than Ingo’s parent did. Hell, he knows even less about whether or not there is a right choice!! As Emmet starts to break down and cry, he buries his face in his hands, whimpering that all he knows is that he is so tired of being by himself.

Without another word, Ingo steps forward and wraps Emmet up in a hug. Emmet sobs and hugs Ingo back, practically collapsing in his arms. As they sit there embracing each other, Ingo decides that maybe this is enough to start with.

That night, Ingo stays by Emmet’s side, gently comforting him to the best of his ability. Emmet eventually falls asleep crying, cradling Ingo’s hand against his chest.

When Emmet wakes up, he’s alone. For a moment he wonders if last night was just a dream. Then the smell of cooking catches his attention. He gets up to find Ingo making breakfast. He looks a little strange doing this in his feathery dress and long hair, but otherwise it feels like a normal morning before Ingo… Emmet shakes himself off and shyly approaches. Ingo quietly passes him a plate of food before going back to cooking for the Pokémon. Emmet feels his heart twist in his chest at seeing the meal made for him. It’s all his favorites. He sits down with a soft thank you and starts to eat. It’s not long before he’s sniffling, his eyes stinging slightly from forming tears. He laughs between a full mouth as he starts to cry. Ingo drops what he’s doing and moves to Emmet’s side, but Emmet shakes his head and swallows his food. He just… he needs a moment… the food tastes just the way his brother made it…

Ingo hovers uncertainly before reaching out to rest a hand on Emmet’s back. He quietly rubs between Emmet’s shoulders as he cries, at a loss. As Emmet slowly calms down, Ingo apologizes for causing him so much pain. He knew that being here would just make things worse. If Emmet wants him out, he’ll go, no questions asked.

To his surprise, Emmet is quick to grab his hand, asking, almost begging Ingo to stay. It will be strange and uncomfortable and heartbreaking, but he does want Ingo to stay. He meant what he said before; he does not wish to be alone anymore.

Ingo considers this solemnly.

He gently squeezes Emmet’s hand.

“I’ll stay,” he softly promises.

If the pain in their hearts eases for just a moment, then they don’t say anything.

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon black and white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #black reshiram au #submas #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #subway boss emmet #reshiram #chandelure #wow this took forever to finish sheesh

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melonba11s · 10 months

Text

Eat Your Heart Out (Ren Hana BTD Fic)

Got a little nasty with this one, and let Ren wild out.

Contains: Ren, Strade, Cannibalism, Necrophilia, Snuff Stream.

Ren stood awkwardly behind the camera, watching Strade work with his current guest…

They were very unresponsive now, and the Chat was getting bored of them.

“BEG, they uh… They think you should just finish the job.” He said, watching a few donations ping in with requests. Strade gave a sigh, seemingly agreeing. His mouth was hidden behind his skull mask but Ren could tell by his eyebrows that he was upset. He seemed to have thought he’d have been able to make a lot of money off of this one.

Ren gripped at his thighs, sniffing the air. Blood. It was all he could smell. And the scent seemed to pulse with each beat of their heart… They were really cute, the moment he knew they were dead meat, he’d been thinking of it. Their heart. He just wanted a taste of it.

He jumped at the sound of a large donation. He glanced at the chat, only to be shoved away by Strade.

Strade’s eyes narrowed at the request, then raised his eyebrows at the amount offered. A slow chuckle came from within his chest, as he glanced at Ren.

“Fuchs.” The name he gave Ren whenever Ren was on stream. “I have a proposition for you. Me and Woundfucker do.”

He beckoned for Ren to follow as he moved towards his guest again. He picked up the camera and set it down on a different table, giving chat a side view of what was happening. Optimal viewing for what he was about to have Ren do. Strade positioned himself behind his guest, holding their arms behind their back and forcing their chest out.

“Go from the bottom.” He instructed. “Don’t sever any of the major veins or arteries when you pull it out.” Ren got the idea immediately. He nodded, unsheathing his claws as his eyes began to glow with animal instinct. He needed to keep it just tied down enough though.

The person was staring at him, their eyes dull but holding a single emotion, a request.

“Just finish it. I’m ready.” Ren nodded, meeting their gaze. He would grant their request. Messily, and in a way that would probably horrify them. One last ghastly expression before their life ended.

Ren took in a deep breath and started, tracing down their chest to find the bottom of their rib cage… Then tearing into it like Strade tore into a steak dinner.

His victim let out a gasp, and then a wail as Ren carefully opened their chest up. Ribs cracking, he took care not to puncture their lungs, watching the organs expand and deflate with each labored breath. And there… resting in a divet slightly under the right lung, it was. Beating quickly.

He grasped it, like he was grabbing for a fragile treasure, pulling slowly. He needed to get it out and into view of the camera, but not too far. Otherwise he’d tear it away from the chest and they’d die nearly instantly.

The look on their face was beautiful. Their eyes were wide, mouth agape to catch the copious amounts of tears silently trickling down their cheeks. They were only gasping now, they wouldn’t last long like this at all.

“Eat, Fuchs.” Strade commanded, after glancing at the camera to make sure the angle was right. Ren obeyed.

He leaned forward and sunk his teeth into the still beating heart. So fresh, so warm, that it almost felt like he was diving into one of his coveted bathes as the blood burst forth. Up his nose, down his chin, across his front.

Ren narrowed his eyes, ripping his face back as he tore a chunk off, making sure to chew with his mouth open so that Chat could see as he ground what was once a functional right ventricle into mince meat.

Ren watched through his chewing as the guest let out one last word before their had slumped forward and they faded into oblivion.

“My…” Was all that managed to escape their lips. Their what? Their heart? Their blood? Their body? Their life? What did it matter. It was his now. He owned all of it. He had taken the fatal blow, he had dug out their heart and claimed it as his own by choosing to devour it.

It sent Ren into a frenzy, as he quickly peeled the heart open like string cheese, lapping up the pools of blood from, coating his face in it as he gnawed on it.

“What a good boy, isn’t he? Was that interesting enough?” He could hear Strade dimly talking to his audience, before that all faded away. Ren couldn’t help himself, he was way too hard now.

He jerked his pants downwards and dove forward, using one hand to continue to keep the precious organ near his mouth as he used the other to position the still warm body.

He didn’t know if he entered their hole or their gaping chest cavity, all he knew was that it was warm. The dings of donations became constant, and Strade actually looked rather surprised before he caught himself and let out an appreciative whistle.

Ren just continued to buck and thrust forward, blood smearing and beginning to trickle down his legs. With a final swallow, getting the last of the heart down, Ren let out a howl as he came.

They were entirely his now. He had claimed their heart, he had claimed their body. He leaned forward, bracing himself against them, nuzzling his face into their neck as if they could still feel it.

He was exhausted, breathing heavily. He was going to need a shower before he went to bed…

He jolted a bit as Strade began to ruffle his hair, petting him, letting out a laugh. His mask was down, he must have ended the stream.

“Amazing job, Fuchs. You earned me so much with that improv!... I’ll have to use it to buy you a reward.” Ren looked up at him for a moment, then smiled, showing off pointed teeth still stained red with strings of flesh caught between them. For a moment he glanced down at Strade’s chest, then quickly looked away, beginning to untangle himself from the body.

… That vital heart, beating in Strades chest. He wondered if he’d ever be able to claim it.

#boyfriend to death fanfic #strade #boyfriend to death #btd fanfic #boyfriend to death 2 #strade btd #ren hana btd #ren btd #ren boyfriend to death #ren hana #btd #melons july ficfest

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petals2fish · 12 days

Text

1. Fortnight - functioning alcoholic 🥲 YOUR QUIET TREASON. All my mornings are Monday stuck in an endless February. POSTIC GENIUS. Magical move on drug YIKES. I love you you tis ruining my life. I touched you for only a fortnight but I touched you. “My husband is cheating I want to kill him.” MOOD. I love you it’s ruining my life. I’m calling ya but you won’t pick up. Went to Florida?!?! 🫡🫡🫡 thank you post Malone for your service.

2. The tortured poets department: “I’ve seen this episode but still loved the show.” Aka I THINK IVE SEEN THIS FILM BEFORE AND I DIDNT LIKE THE ENDING. “Who’s gonna love you if not me.” Lol “We’re modern idiots!!!!” JUSTICE FOR CHARLIE PUTH!!!! “A tattooed golden retriever” made me laugh out loud. “I chose this cyclone with you.” Is so Jily plz. “You’re not Dillion Thomas and I’m not patting smith.” Okay Tay. NO FUCKING BODY: 👍🏼 “Sometimes I wonder if you’ll screw this up with me.” Spoiler ‼️ he did. “Everyone we know understands why it’s meant to be.” I didn’t thanks. “Because we’re crazy.” Okay mood. HE PUT THE RING IN HER RING FINGER?!?! “CLOSEST IVE COME TO MY HEART EXPLODING?!?!” PLEASE?!?! “You left your typewriter at my apartment straight from the tortured poets department.” Five stars!!

3. My boy only breaks his favorite toys: ‘I’m queen of sandcastles he destroys.’ Jumps out at me. “Cause I knew too much.” WHAT DO YIU KNOW TAYLOR. “Should have known it was a matter of time.” Taylor is the queen of ignoring red flags. 🚩 This is a fun beat though besties. “Once I fix me, he’s gonna miss me.” YEAH. TELL EM BESTIE. “Stole my tortured heart and left all these broken parts. Told me I’m better off.” Sorry Taylor you were better off babes.

4. Down bad: NICER BEAT OKAY. “Dawn bad crying at the gym.” Mood. “Fuck it if I can’t have him I might just die.” No why is this so FUNNY. Like this is Matty we’re talking about for sure. “Everything forms out teenage petulance.” I mean yeah cause you were still developing a prefrontal cortex when you met him. “So fuck you if I can’t have us.” HAHAHAHAHAHA I LOVE THIS PART. Honestly I feel you Taylor, I’ve been dumb for a dumb boy before too. It’s okay.

5. So long London: EXCISE ME OPENING WITH A CHORAl. THESE KYRICS WHATLFHAKRHS FUCKKKKK. How much sad did you think I had??? Oh the tragedy?! So long London, you’ll find some one???? “You left me at the house by the heath.” “I stopped CPR”?!?! 😿😿 “YOU LET Me give all that you for free?!?!” SHE GAVE YOU A FUCKING GRAMMY YOGURT BOY AND YOU DIDNT EVEN WANT IT. “too graves, one gun?!” Good for you baby girl. “I’ll find someone” SHUT THE FUCK UP. I’m gonna throw up. Fuck fuck fuck. Taylor 😿😿😿😿 “I DIED ON THE ALTER” ALDBSKAHDBSJSKS NOOOOO. I’m crying. My Shakespeare queen. You’ll find someone RIPS at my heart.

6. But daddy I love him: “bedroom eyes like a remedy.” Fuck how many matty songs are we getting. This reminds me so much of a faith hill song. No I will not elaborate right now. Very country narrative. This one will be fun to scream in concert just for the “I’m having his baby…no I’m not!!!” Very chaotic. 4/5 stars.

7. Fresh out of the slammer: daily disappearing just to see him smile?!?! Girlie pop you really do lie to yourself don’t you??? “He was with her in dreams” I mean it’s really joeover. This song is fun, I like it, very chaotic as well. 5/5 stars.

8. Florida!!!: Florence my queen you make this song beautiful, I need more listens to deconstruct it though:

9. Guilty as skin: girl just write self insert fanfic if you want to fuck someone this badly (can’t wait to write and read fics based off this one hahahaha) 5/5 stars 🌟

10. Who’s afraid of little old me?: shit I’m crying. Fuck fuck fuck. She truly hates most of the new fans huh. Lmaooo SHE SINGS THIS IN ALL HER REGISTERS OMGGGG. It’s all her past selves screaming at us!!! Aldhaksjdka she’s so fucking clever

11. I can fix him no really I can: AHAHA THE ENDING KF THE SONG ALDBSKAHDKAJDHAKDHW SHE REALLY SAID “OH SHIT DAMN I FUCKED UP DIDNT I” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

12. Loml: Joe Alwyn you need witness protection

13. I can do it with a broken heart: oh god this was hurts me more than so long London because it hits home for every damn time I had to preform on stage and then go cry in the shower between shows 🥲

14. The smallest man who ever lived: 🚨🚨🚨 found at the scene of the crime: Joe Alwyn's Small Dick

15. The alchemy: AHHHHHHH!!! HOLY FUCK WE GOT A TRAVIS SONG ALDBSLAHDBSKSJDBWKEHDBAKWJD HE GOT A SONG FUCK YESSSSS

16. CLARA BOW: the outro. The OUTRO. THE FUCKING OUTRO. I’m dead. 😵

Overall: I love it. I love it. I love it SO DAMN MICH. you can tell how much time and effort she put into production and story telling. FUCK. I love this album as much as I loved Folklore the first time I heard it!!

#petals talks #taylor swift #petals liveblogs ttpd #ttpd era #ttpd spoilers

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maxine-drusilla-wayne · 2 years

Text

SZN

Nica!chucky x fem!reader

Right now you were sitting in the pouring rain on the porch of Tiffany valentine. After being in asylums with nica,going with chucky to insure she doesn’t die then getting betrayed by Tiffany and going to jail 2 months after you turned 18 ,you lied and said that nica forced and lied about the doll after SHE killed everyone.

Just what they wanted to hear.

And you didn’t feel bad about it because you knew that nica had turned her back on you. You had stayed loyal for years then when you met in another asylum after 4 years she had believed that it really wasn’t the doll. Called you out of your name and lead you on.

Tiffany was away and nica was asleep. It was the perfect time.

You had snuck in through the window and went to her and Tiffany’s shared room.

You look at her peaceful expressions. It had sadden you how you enjoyed her looking so nice and peaceful after everything she caused you. If only I would’ve never did that much for her. You thought.

Then got straight to chanting

You made sure to keep it at whisper. You were bringing back chucky. Well…the part that was in nica at least.

“…damballa…awake!” You had the heart with you so it made sure it would work.

It’s not working!

you frustrated and instead of chanting “ade due blah blah blah” again and decided that it still might not work….even with the heart

You groan

“Fucking cunt” you whispered breathing out.

Just then there eyes snap open.

You gasp

“What…what the fuck! Is going on?!” Yep…that’s definitely chucky.

He then looks at you dead in the eye. You can’t help but blush and look down.

“She cut off nicas limps a year ago” you said starting to look up.

He tilts his head to the side less confused and more angry now.

“She…what?!” He then looks down.

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me” he says with a sigh.

“I-“ “what the hell has happened?!” He cut you off.

“Well after your bitch of an ex fiancé got me sent to jail I came here to get my revenge.” You say with obvious hate in your voice.

He then looked shocked. “Oh I’m gonna kill her slow” you smiled. “And so you mean…I’ve been like this for over a year?” “Yep” you say with an eye roll.

He started chuckling. “Wow! You know- I-I I really gotta give it to her! That bitch done really really got me!” You knew he was ready to kill her as soon as she walked through that door.

“Well first…you need a new body. Or fixed limps” you said with a sigh sitting your cold,wet ass on the bed.

He sucked in heavily. “How?” You knew just the answer. “There’s a voodoo spell. All have to do is find limps like nicas and sew them back together. Then with the voodoo spell it will immediately heal them and make them fully functional.” You said with a smirk.

He once again tilted his head to the side.

“Well well well…look at what sweet little y/n has planned.” He says with a chuckle.

“Where are we gonna find the body parts?” He asked. “Tiffanys bitchy neighbors.” You said smiling.

“Mhm well ok” he said smiling. “Well then let’s not waste anytime because we don’t know how long she’ll be gone but I suppose probably the whole..well till in the middle of the night sense it’s 5 and she’s busy being Jennifer Tilly and nica was already asleep and ate so I think in the middle of the night.”

You honestly didn’t know but you hoped.

He smiled. But a dangerous smile. “Good girl.” You blush and then went off to the neighbors house.

You had also saw a note that wasn’t for nica but someone else Tiffany forgot to mail to. Probably her neighbors.

“Yup…definitely back in the morning” you sighed out

You came back 5 minutes later with the wife knocked out then got to working which only took 15 minutes.

Then you went up stairs with the wife bleeding out on the ground and most likely dying.

(But you didn’t care)

You made it up the stairs with the body parts and laid everything down like stuff to make sure no huge messes and got ready having chucky in a chair as you kneeled in front of him.

“Sorry. This is really gonna hurt.” You apologized and he just sighed.

“It’s ok.” He nodded his head.

Then you started getting to work completely focused and made sure to attach and Stich on the limps perfectly. You had been done at 7 and it was less bloodier then you thought.

Way faster then you thought to.

And instead of cleaning it up you just immediately started the ritual.

“Shit!” He yelled. “What?! What’s happening?” Yiu asked. Then he calmed down.

“It worked.” He whispered then slightly lifted his leg.

It worked? It worked!

“Yes!”

He then stood up stretching his arms and you decided to get up from your kneeling position.

He turned around to you after looking in the mirror.

He put his hand on your cheek.

“Thank you doll”that made you blush so hard

“You’re welcom-“ then all of a sudden…he kissed you! Before you could even really register it or kiss back,he pulled away and smirked.

“W-well I need to get this all cleaned up” you gulped.

He looked over you. “Ok n/n” he then plopped back down on the bed. You quickly got all of the stuff and went downstairs.

As you made your way down the stairs you knew you heard him yell “you know you killed her right!?” You just sighed because you knew and just continued.

As he was up there you had tiny discussion between surgery about how you were gonna get back at her to start off.

He decided to make a phone call.

It ringed three times “hello?” Tiffany spoke.

“Hiya tiff.” Chucky said amused.

“There’s- there’s no way! NO!” Tiffany exclaimed.

“Oh yes but there is. And with the help of my little precious y/n here…I’m back.”

“That bitch!” Tiffany said with venom.

“Ah ah ah! I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”

“Well…what are you gonna do with them chucky?!” She questioned.

“Well let’s just say…you ain’t never getting ya bitch back.”

#nica chucky #chucky x reader #nica pierce x reader #charles lee ray #chucky tv series #tiffany valentine #tiffany valentine x reader #charles lee ray x reader #x fem!reader

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uniquevoidflowers · 6 months

Text

This is finally out! @majorproblems77, I think you'd like to see this.

A continuation of 'How?'

“He still hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got him in a stable condition.”

Legend’s eyes slowly opened and all he could see was a blinding white that made his eyes sting. Whimpering he closed his eyes again, and tried to get up but it was like he was glued to wherever he was. “S’ okay vet.” A voice told him.

Was it though? If he was okay he wouldn’t feel like absolute shit right? He tried to give a slight head shake. “How’s he doing?” Someone asked.

“I’m…f-fine.” Legend attempted to get up once more, his limbs shaking and agony spreading through his torso.

“Whoa, hey bud, take it easy.” That sounded like Warriors. His heart pounded. That didn’t make any sense. He…He had watched the captain die, the charred body burned into his mind. The cry of agony Warriors had given because Legend had been an idiot and got him killed. He had to see for himself it the man was really there or if that was someone else. Legend’s eyes fluttered open once more, and after a few seconds of the torturous bright light he was able to see a blur of green. “You with us?”

“Yeah.” He forced out, feeling so damn upset at himself.

His vision eventually cleared and he was able to see Warriors, the captain, the same man that he had seen blackened and limp on a blood-soaked battlefield. Was it really him? Or was this not real? Did he die and this is just some cruel twist of fate? “You’re…n-not…real.” Legend spat, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

“What? Ledge, I’m…I’m real.” Warriors insisted.

Legend choked out a sob, not believing a word he said but not knowing how to respond. “I promise. I know what has happened is really scary, but it’s over.” Warriors reassured.

“W-what happened?” Legend asked.

His memory was a little bit fuzzy. All he could really recall is the corpses of his brothers and trying desperately to save them only to end up with an arrow in his chest. “Well, we assume that you used Time’s ocarina to send yourself back in time and try to save everyone from something.” Warriors answered, looking down at the vet with sadness etched into his features.

That did sound right. He vaguely remembered pressing his lips onto an ocarina, and blowing into it. “Rest, you need it. We’re all safe now.” Warriors demanded.

Legend had no will to resist and he let his eyes close, and sleep envelop him. __________________

The next few days were focused on letting the veteran recover, and he was slowly getting better. At least he thought he was. “C’mon vet, you got this.” Wind urged.

The veteran hero got flashbacks of an axe through the sailor’s head and refused to look at the kid. He tried to sit up and for a few seconds he was fine, until his vision was slowly drifting and he felt like passing out. He stumbled to the ground, almost missing the cries of his name. He felt like sobbing, he was so useless right now. He couldn’t even stand. “I need to recheck everything. There’s something stopping him from functioning properly.” Hyrule announced.

He thought that he was getting better. Legend let the traveller do his work, but he recalled the death of his successor once he saw the face of his brother.

(Whizzing around, Legend heard the noise of flesh being pierced, and saw Hyrule crumpled on the ground, a long spear sticking through his back. “NO!” Legend shrieked, stumbling to his knees. The medics of the heroes were basically gone, and the vet didn’t know much. Hyrule coughed out blood on Legend’s face, and that snapped the vet back into reality. Grabbing a fairy from his pouch he let the little thing fly, except the fairy quickly got squashed by a Moblin. Hyrule fell limp, and Legend’s eyes blew ridiculously wide.)

He closed his eyes in order to not look at the face of the traveller. But then he heard a few gasps and felt very anxious all of a sudden.

“It’s…infected I believe. There must’ve been some kind of poison in that arrow or something.”

Legend felt his breathing grow erratic. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe at all, his mind racing with possibilities. None of them good. “Hey, bud, it’s going to be okay.” Someone soothed.

He tried to respond but instead coughed violently. The voices were fuzzy, and his vision was blurred with tears, but he registered a hand holding onto his. After a few moments, he was able to breathe properly, but all he could see was hues of green and grey as he swallowed back sobs. “I’m going to heal you Legend, no matter what.” Hyrule promised.

Legend nodded slightly, feeling exhausted. All he could think of coherently was how doomed he was, and the corpses he had seen. “Come on traveller.” Someone called him away and the veteran wanted to protest but he didn’t.

The vet was left to his own horrible thoughts. All he could hear in his ears were the bloodcurdling screams and cries on the battlefield, and all he could see was the blood. He vividly remembered seeing his lifeless brothers. All he could feel was the blood of his brothers soaking his hands and face. All he could taste was the panic. He laid on a bed, and couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. He whimpered and he wanted to close his eyes and just fall into sleep, a peaceful sleep. But his brain wouldn’t let him. Eventually Time came in, his eyes showing great sadness. “How are you feeling vet?” The old man asked although he probably knew the answer.

Legend didn’t know how to respond. Did he say he was fine, cover up the obvious emotions he felt? Did he admit he was feeling like absolute shit right now? Time looked worriedly at the veteran hero. Legend got flashbacks of Time’s death. He recalled the old man convulsing and cover the vet with blood, hundreds of wounds oozing the crimson liquid that Legend was now familiar with. He recalled the man’s eyes losing light and his chest stilling. He curled up further in himself. “Legend?” Time tried.

“You’re…you shouldn’t be here…”

Time looked at him with a solemn understanding and something deep inside him shattered. He reached towards the old man and started begging Time to stay. He felt a scarred hand on his hand and gripped it as tight as he could. “I won’t leave you vet.” Time whispered. Legend hiccuped and looked away. “That’s…that’s what they all say.”

“I mean it.” Time said, voice firm but wavering anyway.

“You promised…but I saw you…leave me.”

Time’s breath hitched and he pulled out a blue ocarina. “Legend…”

“You…you promised.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You know what…This probably isn’t…real…” “Legend—“

“No….it’s okay…I knew it…”

“Vet, that’s not…this is real.”

“Then prove…then prove it.”

Time faltered and his fingertips gently brushed the ocarina. “You…You can’t prove it.” Legend mumbled.

“I can say this…this ocarina right here has a very special ability. If you play the correct notes, it can send you back in time.” The old man informed him.

Legend choked at Time’s words, his brain reminding him of what that white-haired man had said. “R-really?”

The old man nodded. “From what I can assume and makes the most sense, you must’ve travelled back in time with the ocarina to rescue us all. We’ve been on high guard ever since.”

“I…I don’t believe…you.” Legend admitted.

Time slumped and his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Legend…”

The hoarder turned away and gritted his teeth. Of course this wasn’t real! Why would they have lived? He heard the door creak open and then closed, and noted that the old man had left. He buried his head further into a pillow and prayed that Hylia would be kind for once. So he lie there, his eyes refusing to close as they stung from tears, and his heart ached for many reasons. Then his vision became blurry and he began coughing miserably, a sudden pain in his chest that began to spread everywhere. His head began to throb and his stomach began to clench. Suddenly there were footsteps that rang in Legend’s ears and he heard voices. “It’ll be okay vet, I promise. Hang in there!”

He slipped into unconsciousness against his will.

____________________________________________________________________

“Shit, what do we do?!” Warriors cursed.

Time was sitting in a corner looking deep in thought. Wind was off with Four somewhere, Hyrule was at Legend’s side as soon as he heard a yell and hadn’t left since. Sky was standing next to Warriors looking distraught. Twilight was sitting next to Time, looking worriedly at his mentor. Wild was beside his mentor.

The captain had heard from the traveller that Legend had gotten poisoned by that arrow. Now the veteran’s condition had gotten worse. “Do we know what kind of poison was in the arrow?” Sky murmured, looking unusually small and sad.

“Traveller?”

Warriors’ tone ended up being cold and demanding unlike how he had intended it. Hyrule bit his lip and glared over. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s deadly. If someone could do some research we would be in a better position.” His tone was even icier than the captain’s.

Wild flinched. Warriors sent a stern look towards the traveller. There were a few tense moments as nobody spoke. “I…I can try and contact Flora?” Wild suggested.

“Good.” Hyrule spat and turned his back on the group.

Some of the group looked concerned with others looked stern or angry. What were they going to do?

#unique writes #linked universe #lu legend #lu time #lu hyrule #lu wild #lu warriors #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #linkeduniverse #lu #lu fanfiction #linked universe fanfic #ao3

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crystallinecardinal · 5 months

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I’ve been working on my Watcher!Grian Desert Duo fic (I Will Only Break Your Pretty Things) and I keep thinking about the progression Grian has to go through from seeing everything through a Watcher lens to reacquainting himself with being a player, as well as what that means, especially when it comes to actually taking care of himself during Third Life.

Long ramble about worldbuilding, Watchers, time, wings, pain, exhaustion, rest, neglect, and feeling safe after the cut. Or, just a really long thought process for a scene in which Scar helps Grian sleep one night in the desert.

I feel like Watchers don’t have to care for themselves in the same way players do. Which, sure, maybe that’s a given, even with the way this fic toys with and alters Watcher lore, but the basics of the idea are still there. Watchers are still beings that feast on emotion, I just like to expand on them a bit.

Point is: Watchers don’t need to physically eat, or sleep, or drink, or preen, or blink, or do anything that a mortal player would have to. Aches and pains aren’t felt by them. You’ll never hear a Watcher complain about a headache from overindulgence, or about unkempt wings. It simply Doesn’t Happen, especially not out in the Void. They are immortal, god-like beings that do not have to exist the same way players do by their very code and biology.

Which, in the end, I think would make it especially hard for Grian, both coming in to being a Watcher, and having most of his power stripped from him as he enters Third Life.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes in the Void. It’s like time is different, in a way, akin to sitting outside the edge of the event horizon of a black hole. To a player, time can feel much shorter or longer than it actually is. Months can speed by in an instant, and just the same, only a few weeks can pass when it feels like years. Time is just Weird in the Void. Watchers barely sense it. Time is infinite to a Watcher, they can manipulate it as they see fit in the worlds they observe.

When Grian first became a Watcher, I can imagine it wasn’t easy to get used to. Imagine, all your life, you’re mortal. Of course, mortal in the vague sense, respawning is a thing you know well. Any player knows about respawning, but the point is: you still can die. Suddenly, you fall into a place filled with stars, and are brought amongst the ranks of beings beyond your world. Just like that, you’re no longer human, if the new eyes and small wings that would surely grow and multiply with time said anything. And now, you don’t need to blink. You don’t feel hot, or cold, or anything. But you feel hungry, a dull sensation not quite like pain that ripples through your senses, spawning a new kind of instinct you aren’t familiar with. And as time presses on, you forget how it once was to be a player, and fall in line with the new normal.

I feel like during that time, lost in the Void, learning what it meant to be a Watcher, Grian felt time slow. It passed for him as it does all Watchers, but it felt like ages. And in the process, he learned how to feed on player emotion, the one thing all Watchers must do to survive, to maintain their code, and he lost himself. Gone was the player Grian, the one smiling amongst friends, and in was Xelqua, the Watcher who had forgotten what it meant to be human, gaze ceaseless.

So, that all leads to an issue. When you’ve forgotten your time as a player, how do you cope with turning mortal again? How do you deal with a new body, with aches in your wings and pain in your muscles? How do you relearn basic functions that don’t come with instinct, how do you learn to take care of yourself again?

It’s a simple answer if you’re Xelqua, taking your old name back: you put on a badly hidden facade, try to dismiss your failing memory, and cope.

Sure, maybe you relearn some of it, or at least the parts you’ve had to learn from years of Watching. Preening is part of that. You’ve only ever had wings as a Watcher, and even those barely had to be maintained. Now, you need to keep up with them as much as possible, and even worse: you can feel all of the sensations that come with it, and absolutely do not want to unpack that. And, of course, you’re trapped in a death game of your own design, meant to feed Watchers, all the while you feel a dull ache in your stomach. Lovely!

So, knowing all this, that brings me to the main thought I’ve been having: What if during the early parts of Third Life, back when Grian first left the Watchers and was stripped of his immortality, he felt vulnerable and unsafe when his eyes were closed?

He’s always had them open, for as long as he can remember. As said previously, Watchers don’t need to blink, Watchers don’t have to sleep, Watchers don’t have to take care of themselves like mortals do, so his eyes have always stayed open in some way. He always Watched, and never stopped, not even in idle dormancy. He’s never been without sight for what feels like years, and he’s never been threatened with pain and possible death for the same timeframe.

Now, stranded in his own death game, he feels like if at any moment he shuts his eyes, closes out his main avenue of sensing danger, then something could kill him. No one’s red yet, but danger still lurks around every corner. He’s not yet used to pain again, nor the way death feels, and it’s worse knowing that he only has three chances. He goes to the desert, bound by oath, and even there, there’s still an ever-present danger, but at least there’s distractions. He has a sand castle to build, a vast amount of sand to light up, and a teammate to keep alive. He ignores the way exhaustion tugs at him, because, well, when you’re really stubborn about keeping your eyes open, who needs sleep when there’s something to be done?

So, what if that’s part of what keeps him awake much longer than a mortal should be awake for? What if it’s not only the drive to complete tasks, getting way too wrapped up in the progress of it, but also the fear of letting his guard down? What if he barely feels the way his body begs him to sleep, all until he’s standing still, but he continues to fight against it anyway?

And then, (here’s the fun part for the Desert Duo enjoyers,) what if it’s Scar who breaks that? Scar of all people, Grian’s new ally and the man he accidentally killed? What if it’s Scar who helps a very sleep deprived Grian to finally let go of his voluntary restlessness, and close his eyes? He has a silver tongue, after all, and in their castle amongst the dunes, maybe it’s one of the few times Grian gives in. One of the first times he lets himself be more vulnerable around Scar, and one of the first times he smiles, warmth in his chest.

All is to say: what if it’s Scar who starts to make Grian feel safe enough to sleep, and starts to make him feel human again?

#I’d love to hear thoughts on this if anyone has any!#it’s probably worth noting this fic *is* intended to be shippy #so that can be taken into consideration :)#I just think it would be a fun scene to have Scar help Grian sleep and that be a more sweet scene #yknow #alongside all the tragedy #gotta have balance and a way to build things up #desert duo #scarian #trafficshipping #watcher grian #third life smp #trafficblr

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