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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

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The Swan.

Yan Feitan x F Reader.

Synopsis: You can’t believe your eyes. He came back for you, or you at least think that is him, from the silhouette of the shadow coming down the stairs.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence/some gore, kidnapping, a mention or two of Chr*llo, implied body transformation (not on the reader), implied cannibalism, minor character death, and manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Psycho by Mia Rodriguez

Enjoy the Silence - 2006 Remaster by Depeche Mode

First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

Twisted by MISSIO

Oblivion by Grimes

Chasing It Down by Mother Mother

Killshot by Magdalena Bay

Bernadette by IAMX

Bad Things by Cults

Mastermind by Mindless Self Indulgence

“The healthy man does not torture others.” – Carl Jung

*~*~*~*

The machete in your hands, underneath the cold running water of the sink’s faucet, looked like an amalgamation of silver coins or chains glued together and attached to a metal pole. You would have thought as much too, if the man looking over your shoulder was not there, if your glasses hadn't been shattered on the ground by his boot. He would make you clean the mess up later most likely, with a dustpan and broom you could hardly see regardless of whether it was night or day. He always made you clean up around here in some way, this moment you somewhat expected because of that, but you hadn’t because there was blood on it.

Even though it was so dark, because it was nighttime and your captor hadn’t bothered buying any sort of lamp or another possible source of light, you could still clearly see the crimson combining with the clear water and soon fading away into the drain. He made you touch it too, so you could clean it properly.

The blood was so much stickier and thicker than the water, so much warmer, with a smell that lingered in the air, and little droplets of it clinging to the very walls of the sink, desperate to not dissolve.

Feitan didn’t kill whatever poor unfortunate soul was locked in the basement in front of you. You suppose that was somewhat a mercy on his part. But the blood on the machete was still fresh and not dried up, as was the blood on his jacket. The sight of him coming up the stairs, the large blade behind him thumping with every step and staining the rotting wood, is a sight you will never forget.

“Make sure it is fully clean.”

The way he spoke made you jump a bit, leaving something akin to a snicker leaving his covered mouth. He never talked really to you, only communicating with a hmph here and a swift pull of your ear there. If you were disobedient he would usually break a finger or slam your head against the wall until there were bruises all over your face. Him breaking your glasses, though, was something that you did not expect. Perhaps you were sort of asking for it because no successful escape results from trying to poison a captor with a lethal amount of sedatives when it was clear the captor in question was beyond anything human.

The mug of watery black coffee was still in the back of the so-called kitchen, cracked open from Feitan throwing it onto the table in a fit of absolute rage.

Maybe you should have thought first as to whether or not he would have noticed that his medical cabinet was broken into because you didn’t lock it back up.

He hurled insults at you, deeming you foolish, before striding towards you with haste.

In a swift motion, he snatched your spectacles from your face and forcefully discarded them onto the ground. He then proceeded to ruthlessly trample upon them. In countless ways, you were his complete antithesis. Spontaneous, driven by emotions... utterly vulnerable. On most days, you obediently abide by instructions, rarely daring to challenge them. Or, at least, you have learned not to, the lesson of absolute submission was drilled into you faster than any hammer or screwdriver would.

You inquire with a tone of utmost innocence, or at least with the greatest semblance of innocence that you can summon.

You still hold onto hope that Robert will come back for you, with police or weapons or at least a concrete escape plan. Even if Feitan’s movements and behavior were far from any ordinary human, surely a bullet to the head would still be enough to kill him or be enough to restrain him.

It's hard to decide which is more disheartening: the ceaseless anticipation and longing for even the slightest indication of Robert's return to save you, despite the passing months, or Feitan's relentless assurance that nobody will come to your aid.

There is still a cuff on your ankle, a reminder of the chain in the basement from many moons ago. It took a lot of work, but you finally got out of there after earning yourself a stool to sit on, warm microwaved dinners instead of frozen ones, and once even a book. Stephen King's Misery, the irony not lost to you, the pages slightly wet when it was first given to you, as well as the signature on the front of the cover.

Anastasia Tayegg, it said, though the ink was bleeding out and making the white as snow page a burnt silver. The book, the air, everything, is thick with the stench of decay and sewage, it lingers in your nose and clings to your throat. The foul odor is acrid, sharp, and overpowering, overwhelming all other senses. It creates a thick atmosphere in the air, something that is almost tangible in its potency. It is a sickening smell that clings to the nostrils and coats the throat in a foul film. The smell is rancid and vile, something that causes an instant reaction of disgust and revulsion.

*~*~*~*

It is dark and dingy, with only the faintest gleam of light that seeps in through the tiny little cracks of the shattered glass lantern attached to the ceiling. The walls are thick and damp, and the stone that composes them is cold and damp to the touch. The room is filled with a musty scent of mold and rot, a combination of dampness and decay. The air is stagnant and the place feels very claustrophobic. The air seems to shimmer from the moisture that hands in it and it seems like a very quiet and very dead place.

At least it would have been very quiet and very dead, if not for the rotting corpses in the chairs, the blood that stained the walls and floor, and your quickened, panicked breaths, cries, and talks you have with yourself. The talks are about anything; your former life, Robert, water… you would talk about anything if it meant you weren’t alone with your thoughts and your mind.

The once shiny links of the chains on your wrists have now lost their brilliance and luster and are coated with a thick layer of rust which has seeped through between the metal links, causing them to grow stiff and rigid. They no longer move freely across the flesh that holds them captive, and they dig into the flesh, causing the pain to radiate deep into the body. The chains are heavy and the rust acts like sandpaper and chafes at your wrists.

Your hands have been bound and have been trapped for what feels like ages and the skin around the wrists has turned red and inflamed. The air is damp and heavy, a thick layer of stagnant moisture that has settled around you; your throat is dry, and your stomach is hollow. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink in what feels like forever. You are alone and in pain, your hands bound and the cold metal cuffs digging into your wrists, and you can’t do anything but stare blankly into the dark around you and just hope and pray that Robert will come back for you.

As you stare blankly into the dark, a single tear slides down your cheek. You can’t help but let the fear and desperation flow through you. With every passing second, you grow more and more afraid for yourself and for Robert, desperately wishing he would come back for you.

As the moments stretch to hours, you begin to fret over the idea that something may have happened to Robert, desperately praying that he returns, and soon. He is the only thing keeping your spirits alive and the reason for you to keep going. It is hard to stay hopeful, but you don’t give up on Robert, his strength and bravery are what keep you going. Despite your leg being infected and all the pain you are going through, you are praying and hoping he returns and comes to save you.

You know that he will do anything and everything he can to get you out of this place, out of this hell.

You trust him, you know that he can and will do it. You just need to hold on a little while longer, just a little bit more patience, and he will come for you. The only reason he didn’t bring you with him is just because of your leg, right?

You hear someone coming down the stairs, slowly, growing louder with each step. They seem impossibly loud and echoey in the cold damp air, and the rustling sound of clothing scraping along the walls seems to amplify the sound tenfold.

It seems like the footsteps are taking forever, and that they are just getting louder and closer, as if whoever or whatever is coming is dragging their feet with every step, making it that much more intense. But you know who is coming down, the only one you ever see alive anymore, down here, in the dark. You are not scared of being alone, not anymore, you are scared of having unwanted company.

The man who locked you and Robert down here, after you two begged him for shelter from the rain, without even really using his strength.

The man has a face reminiscent of a demon’s. His wide grin is filled with malice and cruelty, with sharp teeth that seem more like fangs. His narrow eyes are cold and predatory, always analyzing and always scanning his surroundings, you most of all, for your horrified facial expressions. He moves with a natural grace and an easy, casual manner, but under that exterior is a terrifying presence and a ruthless personality that is not afraid to kill or hurt someone without a second’s hesitation. The cuts and bruises all over your body are concrete proof of the latter.

“Perhaps there is still some use for you.” He steps closer, on the cracks of the floor below. “I don’t mind having an assistant.”

*~*~*~*

Ever since Feitan claimed you as his “assistant,” he imparted numerous teachings upon you. Among them, you discovered that the human body possesses an astonishing resilience, enduring unimaginable pain without succumbing to death. Even those who are deprived of limbs, eyes, and tongues persist, their existence marked by incessant torment, their pleas for respite falling on deaf ears. Regrettably, mercy is simply not within his repertoire. But something you have learned more than anything is that Feitan has made you a murderer.

Sometimes you were the one that did the finishing blow, with blood-soaked, shivering hands. Feitan seemed happy then, patting you on the head as a reward for a job well done. An act of fondness. Sometimes you told yourself it was for the better good, because to disobey Feitan meant a fate akin to a death sentence. Sometimes you told yourself that you had no choice and that your body may as well be a puppet on a string.

Both things you told yourself were bad enough and simply brought worse things in you. You are just like him at the end of it all.

You almost like killing them. You almost like killing them because for the first time in months or years or however long you have been held captive in that basement, you feel the presence of power.

You are both repulsed by the reality of it and also thrilled by the sense of control it gives you. The feeling of power and control is intoxicating, an adrenaline rush that you never expected, and yet it seems to call to you all the same. It is a thrill to you like you have never known, akin to nothing you have ever experienced before. It is a twisted sense of pleasure and satisfaction you get by taking the life of someone else, and yet you cannot help but feel guilt for that same pleasure.

What would Robert think?

…

The dinner table is set up with the most care you think Feitan could ever show to an inanimate object that was not his knives or swords. Not that it was ever used in the first place, as you usually ate alone in your bare-bones room, the only place where you sometimes had any privacy. There were a few napkins and a water bottle in front of you, with Feitan’s side having the same. The difference was while you had plastic utensils, your captor had real, metal ones. If you didn’t know better by now, you would have been tempted to take his knife and stab it into his jugular. But you do know better now, so you don’t try to do such a foolish thing anymore. You would not get far anyway. In the end, maybe you would be the one who gets hurt. That is what usually happens anyway, whenever you act out of line.

“Well? Does it look okay?” Feitan asks, his eyes gesturing towards something in the center of the table, something that looks like a larger rotisserie chicken in a bed of plastic and aluminum foil. Steam comes out of it along with the smell of cooked poultry. You wonder where Feitan got it from because he certainly does not know how to cook if the microwave dinners and chips you are always given mean anything. Not that you would say anything about it. You would rather not get on your captor’s bad side, his temper was already as explosive as it was. You were just happy to finally be eating something new for once.

“Yeah.”

“Which part do you want?” At his seemingly normal question, you point to the breast. You always liked that type of meat over thighs and drumsticks because they have much less fat. Much more delicious, in your opinion. “Hmm. Why?”

Of course, you have to explain yourself. There is never a moment when you don’t have to. Whether that would be what your favorite vegetable is to why you dislike bugs. He once put a centipede on your forehead as you slept and you screamed as loud as the people Feitan tortured in the cellar.

“Less fat and less likely to fall apart completely.”

Seemingly pleased with your answer, he grabs his knife and starts cutting, soon placing a large piece on your paper plate. He hated doing dishes, and so you always were forced to do them. As much as Feitan loves getting his hands dirty with organs and blood, soaked bread crumbs were too much for him. You kind of found it funny. Not that you would ever tell him, you don’t want to be hit in the head and called stupid again.

“Enjoy your food.” It sounded sort of like a threat, like an order to enjoy this moment as much as you can. You would prefer anything to microwaved pudding mixed with dethawed that was reminiscent of a forbidden fifth state of matter, more unholy than plasma.

So, you do.

“How is it?” Feitan is simply poking at his plate, it was ironic since whenever you refused to eat he called you ungrateful and threw you in the basement for an hour or two.

“Good.” You don’t know if his smile widening was a good or bad thing.

“I got it from a friend.”

“That’s… nice.”

“He helped me hunt him down himself.”

He?

You accidentally drop your fork onto the floor, the sound making you jump slightly. You bend down to pick it up, as you do not want Feitan to throw your plate out for making a mess again.

…It is best not to think about it too much.

#author aya #yandere #hxh #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere x reader #yandere feitan #yandere feitan x reader #feitan #hxh manga #feitan portor #yandere hxh x reader #yandere feitan portor

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weatheredfailnot · 4 months

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Please take these sections from EE3 on the Shadowkeeper (Cylva) because I love her so dearly

Transcript below:

A NAME SPOKEN IN WHISPERS

Around the time Ardbert and his comrades left Tomra, they stumbled upon evidence of the larger design. Threads linking together the disparate troubles of the realm. A name spoken only in whispers— the Shadowkeeper.

A singular force sowing chaos and discord throughout Norvrandt to an unknown end.

During Nyelbert's search for an energy source to replace the crystal he shattered, he began to suspect that the now-lost stone was not, in fact, a naturally occurring mineral, but rather had been deliberately placed under the mountain. Pursuing the truth of that theory led them to discover a connection to Lamunth, the gem counterfeiter whom Ardbert and Lamitt apprehended so long ago in Nabaath Areng. When they visited Lamunth's gaol cell to interrogate him, however, they found the man convulsing on the floor and frothing at the mouth. Ere the poison took his life, he managed to sputter the name of the Shadowkeeper. Further investigation revealed that this sinister figure had ordered Lamunth to secret the crystal in the mine shafts, and in return rewarded him with the illusory magicks he would employ in his forgeries.

They also came to learn that Tadric, the mastermind behind Voeburt's monstrous plague, had not worked alone. Research documents recovered from the court mage's laboratory mentioned the Shadowkeeper by name, the meticulous entries describing how the arcane lore shared by his co-conspirator had contributed to the completion of his transformation magicks.

The mining industry of Nabaath Areng threatened with demolition.

A scheme culminating in the death of Voeburt's royal heirs. The Shadowkeeper had plotted the downfall of two mighty nations, and Ardbert's band feared that Lakeland, the third of Norvrandt's major powers, would be next.

Lo and behold, a rebellion erupted in the home of the elves. The reigning king was deposed, and the Shadowkeeper, their heretofore faceless nemesis, took the throne.

The elven king, Lelfrey, was a passionate proponent of the arts- music and dance in particular- with his focus on such refined pursuits earning him equal praise and scorn. His was a peaceful rule, free of war and strife, but this passivity cost his kingdom dearly in matters of foreign diplomacy. A poor negotiator, he ceded border territories to Voeburt to avoid conflict, and signed an economic agreement with Nabaath Areng that put Lakeland at a clear disadvantage.

As these political blunders chipped away at the nation's authority, a sentiment of discontent among Lakeland's high-ranking nobility began to fester and grow. Traditionalists dreamed of a return to the golden age when all of Norvrandt lay under their control, and it was the Shadowkeeper who granted them the power to act. Rumors that this new player was the king's bastard child ran wild, and, true or not, served to unify the disgruntled nobles under a single banner. They indulged in treachery to undermine rival nations, while at home, their assassins targeted influential royalists. The scene was set for revolution.

The Shadowkeeper was attended by two dark-robed mages, by whose malevolent arts the traditionalists were empowered. One of their gifts was lupine transformation, a change which granted the recipient preternatural strength and agility. Thus bolstered by a company of these wolfman soldiers, the Shadowkeeper's faction stormed Laxan Loft and captured the royal seat for their leader. No sooner had the winning side declared a new age of glory for the elves than did they muster their forces and launch an invasion into Voeburtite lands.

Caption reads: The Shadowkeeper emerged amid blood and chaos, a formidable and enigmatic figure perpetually encased in stygian plate armor. Similarly clad in midnight raiment, the Shadowkeeper's forces inspired terror in all who witnessed their advance.

THE BATTLE OF LAXAN LOFT

The heroes were poised to continue their search for Nyelbert's replacement stone in Nabaath Areng when the silver-haired Cylva abruptly left the party. The swordswoman excused herself on the premise that she wished to reconnoiter the troubling situation in Lakeland, but in truth, she was hurrying back to don her black armor, unsheathe her blade, and lead the elven traditionalists in their rebellion. Cylva, the great deceiver, had been the Shadowkeeper all along.

She was, in truth, no bastard child of King Lelfrey-that was merely a fiction concocted by Mitron and Loghrif, her Ascian accomplices. Her true origin lay in the Thirteenth, where she had died young and powerless, an unrealized champion of the reflection-turned-void. The Ascians had found her in the moment of her demise, and it was they who brought her soul to the First to serve as a pawn in dark machinations.

Cylva was to insinuate herself into Ardbert's band, and guide them along the path to becoming Warriors of Light. That which they cast aside in their journey towards heroism, she would take into herself, growing ever stronger as a disciple of Darkness. And when all was in readiness, she would reveal herself as the villainous Shadowkeeper. By her hand would the Warriors of Light be slain, and despair sown in the hearts of the populace.

What the Ascians did not plan for was the Shadowkeeper's defeat at the hands of Ardbert's party. Cylva had steadily amassed her power, feeding on her erstwhile comrades' respective sacrifices of personal ambition, innocence, independence, and tradition. Yet despite her best efforts, Ardbert would not forsake what she sought to purloin- his caring heart.

Even in the midst of their deadly confrontation, he regarded her as a comrade in need of saving.

Thus denied her full ascension, the Shadowkeeper wavered and fell.

Swallowing their grief at the loss of a friend, the heroes turned their wrath towards the villains who had orchestrated this tragedy. The Warriors of Light now shone so brightly that even high-ranking Ascians could not stand against their incandescent fury. Even as Ardbert struck his final blow, fulgent power swelled in a cataclysmic wave, and the Flood of Light was unleashed upon the lands of the First.

Caption reads: In her bid to slay the Warriors of Light, Cylva turned her transformation magicks upon herself. Though Ardbert and his comrades did indeed struggle against this formidable lupine abomination, it was the necessity of striking down their former friend that presented the greatest challenge.

#FFXIV #Cyella #Cylva #My posts

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bonefall · 3 months

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is capsaicin a no-go for clan cat diets (esp clans that cook) or should their stomachs be strong enough to tolerate small amounts of it? it's hard to find sources on just HOW toxic it is

Yeah, it's a no-go. I've done a lot of checking into what cats can taste and what they can't, and the most reliable sources I've boiled down answer that it's unlikely because they have no need for it, or we can't really know for sure. It's not like we can just go and ask the cat, and it would be unethical to try to come up with methods to see if they could recognize a flavor.

(For BB I rule they can actually taste it that tiny bit, because I like to write about food anyway so I write as if their 400 taste buds are working overtime lmao. Plus, Clan cats have Sweetness Tolerance bouncing around the population, especially concentrated in ThunderClan.)

But we DO know that they can feel it, so they probably get none of the good taste and ALL of the stinging, burning pain. I'd avoid it completely unless you want to play around with your Clan experiencing it as a quirk of Sweetness Tolerance.

It's not a POISON, per say, just very likely to cause an upset stomach in a real cat. Not toxic, just irritating and painful.

(unless you're defining an onion or garlic as "spicy" in which case HALT. ALL alliums are DEADLY TOXIC to cats. No garlic! No onions! No cloves! No shallots! NONE!)

To give BB!Cats something with a kick I use Common Juniper, also called Poor Man's Pepper. I rule that because they're extra sensitive to the sensation it's about as spicy as a chili pepper. It's really popular in ShadowClan dishes. In general they're a big fan of strange flavors-- they also use pellitory and also aren't nearly as repelled by vinegar.

Same way ThunderClan has Sweetness Tolerance highly concentrated in its Clan so it has a history of using honey and jam, ShadowClan's got a thing for fermentation and has a culture that acclimates them to bitter flavors.

#better bones au #clan culture #capsaicin #spicy foods

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rouecentric · 2 years

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May I request gen hc with the agriche family with darling isekai'd from our world so she know roxanna actually is the same situation as her maybe with romantic cassis pedelian?

!!SPOILERS FOR THE NOVEL!!

a/n: you absolutely can! Enjoy reading this post! :)

for some reason let's say you were a successful murder mystery/detective writer, so that's why you know a lot about weapons, poison, etc. I'm also aging up cassis and roxana, because ain't no way am i accepting the fact that she's 16 and cassis' 17 at the start.

oh you poor, unfortunate soul. How the hell did you get into this mess of a family?

-Waking up in a baby's body is confusing, and even more when you see Lant Agriche, a fictional character from the manhwa and novel called "How to Protect the Heroine's Older Brother", the father of the main character

-At first, you assumed it was a dream, and just went along with it as if it was a roleplay. But then the next day, you woke up still in the same body, so then you decided to wait until you could do the bare minimum, and wait you did

-after a few excruciating years, you were old enough to walk, talk, and handle yourself at six years old, but, surprisingly enough, you were one of Lant’s eldest children in the family and in the future, oldest daughter of the Black Agriche, and from you getting unexpectedly isekai'd into a manhwa, you were gifted with future vision, meaning you could see into the future whenever you wanted, which was a huge advantage

-So, as a daughter of a wealthy and mighty man, you, as well as your siblings, had a pretty big allowance, but still rather small, indicating that the children should work hard enough and the head might raise your monthly allowance

-And as a successful writer who writes dark things, you decided to buy two lockable diaries and a pen to write down everything you knew and ideas that could benefit you, but your main goal was to just save Ashil from dying and help Roxanna from the shadows before Jeremy remakes the Black Agriche and becomes the next head after Lant gets assasinated

-One of your ideas was rather simple, yet good. Starting a business and investing into other businesses. You decided for the business to start off as a simple store for ladies, full of earrings, rings, necklaces to fans, parasols, gloves and handkerchiefs

-When you proposed the idea to Lant, he was curious to see how the business would go, so he decided to fund your business idea, giving you a building in the capital to sell such things, and when the store opened, it was an instant hit! Noble ladies loved the designs of the things in the store so much, it even started a new trend for the entire year!

-Although your monthly allowance was raised more and you had some of your independant income source, you decided that you should start other projects once every year, as doing just business to benefit the Black Agriche was just not enough to pass by with, deciding to get personal trainers for various kinds of weaponry you used to write about in your books, from various hand-to-hand weapons to long-range weaponry such as daggers, swords, spears, and even gauntlets to bow and arrows, whips and crossbows, of course, you also learned a thing that didn't exist at first, magic

-You, of course, didn't need a tutor to learn about various poisons, because well, you were a professional writer back in your world, having to read about poisons and their side effects, as well as how much you need to give it to the victim and how it kills the victim as well as the antidote of the poisons

-So, with your weaponry training in the mornings, your business management papers being finished right before the clock hits 2 pm, you had rest of the day off, as you finished your classes a year before, as you requested your father to give you more classes for the entire entire two years so you could peacefully take the initiative for future projects without any hindraces like classes

-And when you had rest of the time off, you always either resided in your room, the library, or the gardens, but in every single one of the places you were in, you always met Ashil

right, i almost forgot to explain how you met.

-You met Ashil a year ago, accidentally stumbling upon him in the library. To be honest, he was sweet and sensitive, reminding you of a puppy multiple times, it's rather fun teasing him as he rather easily gets flustered

-He was too soft, but that's alright, you already were ready on risking your ranking and life for him to live, not like he had any other choice but to live now that you're here

-And by befriending Ashil, You were bound to meet one of your step-mothers and half-sister, Sierra Agriche and Roxana Agriche

-For them to be shocked that Ashil befriended another Agriche was shocking, but for it to be the second-highest ranking child and oldest daughter? Sierra was apalled, while Roxana was was neutral about it, but inside, she was excited

-You see, you existing in the manhwa wasn't supposed to happen, and now you created an alternate universe just by getting isekai'd. Your very existence in the manhwa made you materialise into an alternate world of Roxana's, appearing as another side character in the novel, a beloved second-highest ranked child of the Black Agriche and a successful businesswoman who subtly helped Sylvia at the start, but fully broke her out at the end with your gift, future vision, and ultimately became Sylvia's right hand man once she escaped and became the next head of the Pedelians

-In short words, Roxana was your number one fangirl and wholeheartedly supported the plot twist and shipped you with Sylvia

-You easily got along with Sierra's family, as you were easily one of the sanest people in the family, going as far as to call Sierra "mom", she definitely cried while hugging you out of joy

-Unfortunately, you had to do something, not just hang out with Sierra's family, manage the store, and take your lessons, and so you decided to start another project, and this time without Lant's knowledge about it being one. Well, you know about Roxana's future poisonous butterflies, so why not hatch the carnivorous and Hallucinogenic poisonous kinds of beautiful butterflies as a long-term project? You already knew the location of where to get the butterfly eggs, you just need to bring them back into your own poisonous greenhouse and successfully hatch them

-Oh, right! Did I mention that your own independant income is enough for you to get construction workers to build you your own greenhouse?

-And now with a long-term project in motion while having some other things to do every day, you were practically set for the next couple of years! Well, kind of..

-The next year, you had a huge project on your mind, There will be a underrated seamstress that will get famous in the next couple of years for their designs and talent with sewing clothes, and you wanted to collaborate with her for a boutique in the capital, with your father fully funding it again, as the last one became a hit and even expanded into other cities!

-You already had your designs which were blatantly taken from the outfits you saw in other isekai manhwa's, and you didn't regret it one bit, come on! Cayena's, Rezef's and Raffaelo's clothes are amazing!

-And when the boutique was open in the capital, as usual, it became popular, but thankfully, some designs weren't sold as you wanted the most iconic outfits that you stoledesigned. Unfortunately, you were deemed a genius and immensly talented lady by your business partners, which Lant agreed with

-Life was rather swell after that! Well, would be if you would ignore Roxana's abrupt rise in being practically obsessed and worshippy with you, constantly praising for every decision and achievement you made to her mother and brother, but Sierra brushed it away, seeing it as just simple admiration for her older half-sister and even encourages it, unfortunately, Sierra and Ashil would fall head first into the abyss that is called obsession

-And so, a couple of years passed by, and the dear fl was twelve, you as well as Ashil and Sierra celebrated her birthday cheerfully, but this was the year when Ashil gets killed by Dion in front of Sierra and Roxana, leaving the two traumatised, one hiding their PTSD while the other was too weak, never being the same person again

-And as the older half-sister of Ashil, it was your duty to explain and help him prepare as much as possible for his monthly examinations, as you were a year older than him

-Thankfully, your poisonous butterflies hatched without a problem last month, feeding them the corpses of dead staff and the toys your siblings had, sending a few of them to spy on Ashil to keep him safe for as long as possible

-Unfortunately, Ashil failed one of the monthly examinations, maybe Ashil truly was meant to die?

Ashil was truly in a pathetic state for an Agriche, barely standing while desperately trying to block the ongoing attacks that were from Dion, his own blood staining his pale face and staggering from the blood loss, but just before the black-haired boy could do anything to strike a fatal blow to kill the bloodied blond - a swarm of blurred red blobs appeared, frantically speeding to be in front of the blond teenager, before disappearing to show the face of the person who stood in front of Ashil, and the owner of the red butterflies.

There was you, standing in all of your glory, crossing your arms while looking at Dion with an aggravated expression in your dark blue, over the shoulder dress that you talked about to Sierra.

"Now, what is with this fuss all about?" You questioned, staring straight at the dark-haired teenager in frustration as he fumbled to quickly kneel down, not even daring to look back at you.

"Ashil failed the monthly examination, father commanded me to dispose of him." the kneeling boy explained, slightly shaking.

You sighed, shaking your head, "Then report back to him saying that it won't be possible to dispose of him, and tell him that this piece of advice is from me; rather disposing, disown him and give him to me, I do need a personal butler because of father taking a bit too long with assigning me my own staff after the incident, or else he might not be able to benefit from more things in the future," you kneeled in front of him, holding his face to make him look straight at you, red butterflies swarming around the both of you.

"you'll do that for your dearest older sister, right?" you inquired, smiling at his wide-eyed expression, subconciously bringing back the butterflies and standing up, releasing Dion's face from your grasp, watching him run outside from the bedroom, assumingly going back to Lant's office.

you turned back to the others, apathetically staring at the bleeding teenager on the floor.

"You should bring him to the infirmary as soon as possible, he could most likely get an infection if he doesn't go there soon." you recommened, leaving the bedroom yourself to go to your own, as somewhat of a lot of energy was taken from you just by summoning and bringing back the butterflies on command.

-Your first meeting with Dion was actually really long ago, right when he was just a beginner in his classes

-As he was younger than you, you naturally felt pulled towards him, always meeting up with him in either your room or the library, never failing to bring him treats

-Of course, being just nice to him wasn't your entire plan, subtly molding him into how you wanted him to act with you by words of affirmation, indirect orders disguised as simple minor requests, such as bringing you your book you "forgot" and getting you alstroemeria, a flower that meant devotion and friendship that was being raised in the garden

-And from small requests they grew into chores, and from chores into orders, but won't he do it for his dear sister and only genuine friend?

-every single refusal, failure to do it, or just a simple "later" caused you to fake being sad and looking like a kicked puppy, apologising to Dion for having to waste his precious time with such an insignificant task, which he would always desperately ramble apologies out with a wide-eyed and teary expression while hugging you

-When Lant was informed of your actions, advice and fact that you now had carnivorous and hallucigenic butterflies, he was bewildered! Who would've known that you'd go and defy his orders about killing Ashil, raise rare yet dangerous butterflies, and give him a disguised threat turned into advice!

-the feeling of bewilderment soon after changed into pride, of course you were able to do this! You're his oldest daughter and secretly most favored child! so, without any fights or complaints from him, he disowned Ashil and gave him away to you, him becoming less of a personal butler, but more of a doll you'd take care of

-Sierra and Roxana were immensly thankful, with Sierra standing in front of your doorstep waiting for you to let her in, and when you did, she tightly clung to you by your waist as she slid down onto her knees, crying while rambling on "thank you's" for saving Ashil with Roxana standing behind her mother, trying to console her

-Ashil was the most thankful out of the three of them, seeing you as his savior and a godess-like person, made to be worshipped and cared for without any complaints

-When Jeremy and Roxana became rather close, he was always curious of you, hearing a lot from everyone in the house, even from the staff and teachers!

-Roxana was happy to tell him everything about you and how you're like, portraying you as an angel sent from the heavens, blessing this hell-hole of a family with your kindness

-His positive opinion about you strengthened extremely more when he met you for the first time in the gardens, with you in a gazebo lazing around and drinking tea with a biscuit in hand

-Of course, he approached you and kindly introduced himself, making small talk with you about the current trends in society and some rumors that were spread about other families, then he simply asked if the biscuits were tasty, with you just simply feeding him a biscuit without warning, smiling at his starstruck expression

-Yeah, you were definitely an angel sent from heaven

-Your meeting with Maria wasn't much, as you wanted to escort Sierra to the tea party Maria invited her to participate in, knowing full well that Sierra can't handle that well Maria's "doll's"

-Well, Maria was always happy to accept another guest that is close to Sierra, and her step-daughter at that!

-Maria is rather overbearing, but so is Sierra, Roxana and Jeremy, so you were used to people acting like that

-You and Grizelda haven't met that much, but you and her always shared pleasantries and initiated small talk whenever you met, becoming close acquaintances

-Charlotte admires and wants to be just like you, so she would always go to you for advice to see what you would do if you were in her shoes, but whenever someone talks bad about you? They become Charlotte's toy for her to torture

-Fontaine doesn't have much of an opinion on you, as he simply admires your achievements

-fast forward towards when Cassis is kidnapped, you immediately requested father for the Pedelian to become your toy, causing everyone in the room to go quiet while Cassis immediately started staring at you, anticipating the head's answer

-In the past, you never had any pets, not like you even wanted them, the only thing that came extremely close was Ashil, but he was originally meant to be disposed of if it weren't for you stopping Dion, so, Lant agreed, happy to see that you were becoming more like him day after day

-Cassis was cautious from the start, and his anxiety was higher now that you, the oldest daughter of the Agriche family, wanted him as a pet

-He really was suspicious of your instant personal announcement that you would help him getting out of here when you two were alone in his cell, but the fact you kept on bringing him fresh and warm food alongside medicine and changing his bandages from time to time, he eventually fell for you

-And when he realised it? He was stunned and in denial! He wasn't supposed to fall for his family's enemy! But you were just so.. nice and friendly towards him! You complimented and somewhat even babied him almost every day!

-Cassis was now sure he wants to bring you back home with him as his fiance, but you knew that it wouldn't be possible for now, and when he tried to convince you to go with him back to the Pedelian family? You had to remind him of what kind of people your family and you are, telling him everything you've done just to survive, and telling him to "just go, you'll most likely see me again in the future if you hurry up and leave."

-He promises to bring you back and marry him, even if he has to break you or kill everything around him

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cineresis · 7 months

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Angels in America

It's amazing how fast an evening at your favorite club can be ruined by someone keeling over and frothing at the mouth. The band never quite gets back into the swing of things afterwards.

"Angel," sighed one of the men, or nearest approximants, at the table next to mine, "why is it that I can never go anywhere with you without stumbling across a body?"

"Oh, come now," said his partner, a soft, fluffy confection in caramel and cream, rising hastily to make his way toward the source of the commotion. The first gentleman, dark, lanky, and excruciatingly chic, got up to follow him. "It's hardly every time."

I stayed where I was for now, casting my gaze around the room as I went over my memory of the past twenty or thirty minutes. Too many people passing close enough to slip something into the victim's drink, too many others to watch at the same time, too many more opportunities to poison him outside my field of view. I was a detective, not God.

"Stumbling upon, once. Literally. Do you know what it's like to have to clean up after that sort of thing? It takes a personal toll."

"Hush, Crowley," chided "Angel". "People can hear you, and you know how queer they get about these things. Ooh, yes, that's strychnine, all right," he added cheerfully, pulling a small vial from his vest pocket and tipping it into his handkerchief. "Nasty stuff."

I got up. As I approached, I caught the faint, unmistakable chemical sweetness of ether fumes and gave them a wide berth, choosing instead to inspect the victim's plate and glass before turning to scan the room from this perspective.

"Now, just what might you be doing?" drawled Crowley.

I looked him over, too, while I was at it. In Crowley's case, this involved a lot of looking and not much over; he was easily more than six feet tall, even while slouching rakishly. The snake tattoo on his right temple suggested certain things about him. The dark glasses that he hadn't removed since he'd entered just suggested questions, since I highly doubted he was blind. "I'm a detective," I said, leaving the obviously at the end of that sentence to implication. "What are you doing?"

This response seemed to delight him. "So are we," Crowley answered, and grinned. "But if you want to get specific about it, I'm keeping you distracted while my friend saves this man's life. Let's see your license, then."

As I took it out, keeping at least one eye on him and his partner, Angel called out to the rubbernecking crowd around us, "I need someone here to run and call the nearest hospital, and a couple of strong men to help get this poor fellow someplace dark and quiet to rest. Best use one of the tablecloths for a stretcher," he added to the first volunteer who stepped forward.

Crowley leaned in closer to study my license. "Drake Silas Donovan," he read off. "'Silas', really?"

"What about it?"

"I've just always wondered what kind of parent would name their kid Silas."

"The kind who had a grandfather named Silas," I replied coolly, snagging my license back. "Your turn."

He obliged. Anthony J. Crowley, it read, licensed in London since 1905, the year before mine. I wondered how long he'd been at this; he looked too young for his apparent age, but then I looked too old for mine. "A. J. Crowley," I read his signature aloud. "Get asked if you're any relation every time, or just most?"

There's a certain motion a person's head makes when they roll their eyes. Crowley's was making it. "The man's an embarrassment to the side," he griped. "I made my name legitimately."

"And your friend?" It wasn't as if I couldn't put two and two together. There's a certain type of person who's got both a nose for trouble and the brains to prepare for it; if it walks, talks, and thinks like a dick, it probably is one. It was just that I wasn't in the habit of trusting people, and I'd be a real schmuck to neglect basic due diligence on the guy purportedly surrounded by bodies.

Detectives are no better or worse than any other person. They just think it's usually more interesting to solve crimes than commit them.

"Oh, he's as legitimate as it gets." Crowley turned to his companion, who was getting to his feet, brushing his clothes off fussily. Beside him, the two volunteers hoisted the unconscious victim onto a tablecloth spread across the floor, momentarily dislodging the ether-soaked cloth before Angel caught it and laid it carefully back in place over the victim's nose and mouth. "Aren't you, Aziraphale?"

Angel — "Aziraphale"? — looked up, startled. "Pardon?"

"Mr. Donovan here wants to see your detective's license," Crowley explained, enunciating his words with malice aforethought.

"Oh! Yes. Of course I always have that with me. Now just where did I..." He started patting down his pockets, stopped suddenly, and took a lovely calfskin card holder out of his coat. "Ah. Here it is."

Beaming, he passed it to Crowley, who passed it to me with the comment, "You'll find everything in order, I'm sure."

I glanced down at the card, then back up at Angel. "Am I supposed to call you A. Z. Fell or Aziraphale?" I asked, pronouncing the Z correctly as zed.

"A. Z. Fell is how 'Aziraphale' is pronounced in the King's English," said Crowley blandly, affecting a cut-glass Oxford accent on the last phrase. His partner seemed pleased by this comment, rather than annoyed.

"I'm afraid my progenitor bestowed me with a rather unwieldy given name," Fell admitted, raising fascinating questions about just how many syllables the British peerage could fit on a birth certificate when they really tried. "Aziraphale just sounds so much more euphonious, don't you think?" Crowley was right; I couldn't tell whether Fell had meant to say A. Z. Fell or the de-accented gloss. He'd lengthened the half-syllable between zed and Fell to a full vowel, but some people said zetta.

"I wouldn't know," I replied, handing the license back to Crowley, who was nearest. When Fell didn't take my bait, I added, "Lucky that you happened to have ether handy. I wouldn't like to imagine what might've happened if you'd decided to stay in tonight." I also lied when I said sorry, and when I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but. Little white lies are the oil in the gears of civilization.

"Oh, I always carry that, too," Fell explained earnestly. "One gets into the habit after one's first run-in with strychnine, and of course ether has so many useful applica—"

"I wouldn't, angel," Crowley interrupted, sounding very amused. "Mr. Donovan thinks you're the one behind this."

"Oh," said Fell, nonplussed. "Gosh. Well, I — I suppose I can't blame him. He doesn't know me from Adam, after all, and has no reason to trust me — I did warn you about giving people funny ideas, Crowley, honestly. Of course," Fell turned to me, laying an elegant hand across his chest, "if you were to search me, you would find only a small collection of antidotes — oh, but a habitual poisoner would probably carry those, too, especially if he were the sort of voyeur with a penchant for playing the hero. I certainly wouldn't be convinced of my innocence. Yes, I can certainly understand whatever suspicion you might feel towards me, however misplaced it may be."

Crowley watched this thought process with an expression somewhere between fascination and agony. "Well, at least now he probably thinks that if you'd done it, you'd have been caught by now," he remarked, presumably because he was thinking the same thing. "You'll have to excuse my friend," Crowley added to me. "He still believes that the innocent have nothing to fear. Somehow."

"First time visiting?" I guessed.

Fell's bemusement answered my question before he did. "Pardon?"

"Never mind."

#good omens #1920s #noir #detective fiction #lgbt fiction #original fiction #(as it were; i should probably go back and tag the posts in this series more identifiably)#is this a human AU or are Crowley and Aziraphale just huge nerds? i don't know and neither does the outsider-POV narrator #i will finish this if there is public demand but otherwise This Is What You Get #(other stuff is still in the pipeline. this has just been a fuck of a year.)#i did this #my writing #a good man is hard to find (no not that one)

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just-an-enby-lemon · 1 year

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DnD Night at Arkham

[They started it on Arkham as a form of group therapy and kept it after they scaped but on a special room on the Iceberg Lounge. Catwoman and Penguin entered later (via Harley and Riddler insidtence respectivaly) and Joker was banned because he kept geting Nat 20s in all his rolls]

Riddler: You rescue the hostage. He is a simple human lumberjack. He offers you wood as a payment.

Poison Ivvy: Is the wood ethically sourced?

Riddler: He is a human lumberjack in a medieval scenario I don't think he even knows what ethically sourced wood is.

Poison Ivvy: I cast poison spray on his face. How dare he hurt the trees!

Riddler: Let me roll... You know what, no, he is a normal middle aged lumberjack. He just dies.

Penguin: NO! I wanted that wood! I could have sold it!!

Catwoman: Didn't he had some important information? Pam?!

Poison Ivvy: Well he should had ethically sourced his wood!

Penguin: Edward bring him back right now!

Riddler: I can't just bring him back! Pamela killed him. You should have tried to stop her. Do not blame me, I'm just the DM. By the way your next encounter are his wife and kids.

Scarecrow: I cast fear!

Riddler: *rolls dice multiple times* The soldiers fail their test. They are terrifield.

Scarecrow: Good. What are they seeing? What is their fear reaction? How is their heart rate?

Riddler: That's it! Every single time you cast fear you force me to do a ridiculously long description of their reactions no one else cares about. *the other Rogues agree* Please stop.

Scarecrow: People react to fear differently and afraid of different things, Edward, and is my mission to study it.

Riddler: They all see a monster and run.

Scarecrow: That's unrealistic. Not a single one paralyzes? No one screams? They all have the same monster as their biggest fears? Did they had a similar traumatic experience? But even so it wouldn't explain they all having the same reaction. Honestly, that's truly not how real people act.

Riddler: They aren't REAL, Crane. They are FAKE PEOPLE I just MADE UP. They act in any way I want.

Scarecrow: Oh so they are a reflection of your fear of losing control!

Riddler: You keep that and you're out.

Scarecrow: So if I just described their fears and reactions would it make you anxious because you lost control over your "fake people".

Riddler: Anyway is Two-Face's turn. Also Crane you characther is poisoned. He acidentaly steped in a poisonous plant while trying to analyse the soldiers fears.

Scarecrow: That's not fair.

Riddler: Two-Face?

Harley: Can I cast a illusion spell to pretend to be his dead wife?

Riddler: I'm interresed. Make your roll.

Mr. Freeze: Don't do that. It's too cruel, this poor man deserves better.

Two-Face: He separated our group in different torment chambers and he is trying to kill us!

Mr. Freeze: But his dead wife! He clearly loves her still and loves her soo much.

Catwoman: I think that's the point...

Riddler: It's up to Harley.

Harley: Does he has a dead daughter?

Riddler: Does he?

Harley: *rolls* NAT 20!

Riddler: He does. He loved her even more than his wife.

Harley: I pretend to be his dead daugther.

Mr. Freeze: See way less cruel.

Riddler: *starts giggling*

Two-Face: ugh.

Harley: oh no.

Penguin: Is another puzzle maze isn't it?

Catwoman: Please don't be another puzzle maze.

Riddler: Is not a puzzle maze!

*everyone celebrates*

Riddler: You guys see yourselfs trapped in a beutifull, amazing, perfectly done... death trap! : )

*everyone boos*

MadHatter: Can I kiddnap his kid, Dormouse?

Riddler: You can?????!

Catwoman: Why? Why do you want to kiddnap the royal's guard kid?

MadHatter: She has a Cheshire cat.

Scarecrow: Is not a Cheshire Cat is just a cat called Cheshire.

MadHatter: Same thing, March Hare.

Harley: Kiddnap the cat!

MadHatter: But than she'll be alone. If I take booth of them, they will be together as Alice and the Cheshire Cat. She'll be ny daugther and we will be a Woonderland family.

Poison Ivvy: Her name is Ophelia.

MadHatter: If I succeed in kidnapping her can I change her name, Dormouse?

Riddler: I supose?

Two-Face: Don't fucking encourage him, Nygma!

Two-Face: I attack the sphinx with my sword of shadows. *rolls the dice* Dammit Nat 1.

Riddler: Your paladin tries to attack the sphinxs, his sword does no damage. The sphinxs smiles cruely. How dare you try to solve matters of the mind with muscles??? YOU TRULY ARE ALL BRAWL AND NO BRAINS! YOU ARE THROWED AGAINST THE WALL. YOUR HP DROPS TO ONE. NOW YOUR ONLY CHANCE IS TO SOLVE THE IMPOSSIBLE RIDDLE. HOW DARE YOUR MORAL PALADIN OF JUSTICE THINK HE COULD JUST PUNCH ME AWAY? YOU HAVE NO CHANCE DARK NIGHT! NO CHANCE AT ALL AHAHAHA. TODAY IS THE END OF BATMAN AHAHAHAHA *everyone looks at Riddler* *he blushes* i mean ... is harley's turn...

Two-Face: I steal his sword. I finally have two swords!

Harley: But both need two hands to use.

Two-Face: Perfection.

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starry-inks-skies · 2 months

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Dad of the hotel

Chapter 1: Home Cooked meal

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Sorry if this is bad this is my first fanfic

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Alastor walked down from his new radio tower. It was easy to modify the normal tower into a radio tower. Just took a snap of his fingers. It was only the second day living in a renamed Hazbin hotel. Charlie had shown the radio demon around the run-down hotel along with Husk and Niffty. Niffty swiftly trying to clean as they get the tour. Alastor turns the corner to the kitchen and dining room. Like the rest of the hotel, the kitchen is a total mess and burn marks all over. The princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar, is in the oven trying her hardest to cook breakfast for everyone. Alastor could immediately tell that it looked like the first time the princess has ever held a knife. Charlie notice the radio demon behind her and turned around to meet him, still holding the knife straight at him. “Good morning, Alastor! I’m just trying to um breakfast…. It’s not going well,” Charlie says cheerfully, not surprisingly. She’s a morning person. Alastor looked over Charlie’s shoulder, seeing the abomination known as Charlie’s home cooked breakfast. Alastor tilled his head and moved Charlie’s knife out of his way. “My, not even a cannibal would eat that, ha ha ha.” Alastor mocked with laugh track follows Alastor’s laugher, Charlie awkward laugh with the deer demon. “Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll fix something right up. Niffty dear, would you come here and clean up whatever this is?” Alastor says with pity in his tone. Niffty stopped chasing a bug and ran over to the tall deer demon.

Niffty started to clean the kitchen while Alastor went to the fridge and picked out some food to use. Charlie sat down next to Vaggie and started talking to her. While grey-skin demon stared down Alastor as if he was going to poison the food. Alastor made some eggs, bacon, and toast for everyone. The deer demon made some coffee for himself. He sat down at the dining table and sipped his coffee as he read the newspaper. Alastor heard a squeak of a chair being moved, he looked at the source of the sound. Charlie, now done talking to Vaggie, looked at Alastor with a nervous smile. “So, Al, Alastor uh Mr. Radio demon. I was, um, wondering if you uh, teach me how to cook? The jambalaya was amazing. And so, was the breakfast you just made, so can you teach me?” Charlie asks Alastor thought for a moment, he no real reason not too much plus getting closer to her will get him closer to his goal. “I don’t mind teaching at all! All we need to do is get some ingredients and clean this kitchen to be spotless!” Alastor says with a wide smile. Charlie smiled at the deer demon she was close to putting Alastor into a hug before he could stop her with his microphone stand. Alastor says with a low growl “No touching… please, I rather not like being touched unless I initiate it.” Charlie apologized and moved away from Alastor. The radio demon watches as Charlie started to help Niffty. The demon shook his head and headed out to get more food for the hotel.

Alastor return with the food, some were more for a cannibal diet. He put those foods far away from Charlie and the others. He doubts Charlie would like to see body parts right next to the eggs and bacon. The radio demon walked to the kitchen with the rest of the food. Upon entering he sees Charlie already there waiting for Alastor. The princess of hell smiled at him and helped put the food in the fridge. Alastor fixed up his suit before turning to Charlie, saying, “Let’s start off with something simple. How about the poor man’s meal?” Charlie tilled her head and looked at the radio host and asks, “What’s poor man’s meal?” Alastor answers, “I’m glad you asked. It came from the great. Depression. It’s mainly made of potatoes and hot dogs should be easy enough.” Charlie nods her head and gets ingredients and help Alastor to ready the pot. Together the two could make the poor man’s meal with Alastor, guiding Charlie on how to make it. Once done, Charlie looks at Alastor with a nervous look like he’s Gordon Ramsay and this is kitchen nightmares. Alastor took a bite and hummed. “Well, I had worse roadkill than this, but I definitely had better.” Once again Alastor mocked Charlie. The tall blonde stared downwards; defeat, Alastor placed his hand on her shoulder. “Come now dear Charlie, you’re never fully dressed without a smile. It’s not that bad. Besides, this is no longer the great depression. Add some spices to it and it will be brilliant!” Alastor says, trying to cheer up Charlie a little. Charlie smiled at the deer man and got out the spices. Alastor said which ones to add and carefully Charlie adds them in. The two tried the food again. Charlie smiled widely and bounced up and down. The princess of hell hugged the radio demon, Alastor paused, unsure what to do. He awkwardly pats Charlie’s back like a dad, unsure what he is doing, not far from the truth, really. Charlie steps back and apologize, she runs off yelling to Vaggie that she did it.

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juno-of-wonderland · 1 year

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the reader/mc is a descendant of one of the sevens

Queen of Hearts

- despite her ancestry, doesn't follow the rules so strictly, only the ones they thinks are worthwhile

- amazing croquet player, memorized all the rules and doesn't need to cheat to win every time

- strangely not a big fan of tea, not that he doesn't like it, but it wouldn't be his first drink choice

- cliché but her favorite color would be red

- you spend a lot of time in the Heartslabyul dorm or you are a resident, either way they are very close to the students

- how they found out doesn't matter but I imagine it this way: they were all gathered for tea if Riddle was having one he spat out, while everyone else froze, Ace looked at them in exasperation and yelled YOU ARE DESCENDANT OF WHOSE?!

- chaos settles in the dorm

King of Beasts

- how it happened don't ask me

- clearly you are a lion man beast

- is very smart after all they/you family values the mind over strength

- doesn't mean you're not athletic

- if something interests you, you will spare no effort to get it, otherwise you will only do the minimum

- loves to be sarcastic and tease others, his favorite people for this are Ace, Leona, Ruggie and Epel

- when they discover the family tree, Leona can see it as a rival now or let it go, Ruggie wouldn't care much but he would definitely ask questions here and there, Jack would probably be more respectful than he already was

Sea Witch

- favorite hobbies: reading, cooking and watching the mafia trio (Azul, Jade and Floyd)

- favorite of teachers

- loves pets

- Of course, it's an octopus mermaid

- you certainly released information about your ancestor, something like that is an outrage, as a descendant of the witch of the seas it is my duty to help these poor unfortunate souls, everyone stops and wonders if this is true

- Azul goes after the director and confirms everything, he will ask for business tips with that characteristic smile

Sorcerer of the Sands

- a complete riddle

- smart, astute, calm, athletic, basically the perfect student

- everyone has no idea what to think about you, after all you are so kind, but there are days when you wake up with this aura that you are up to something

- some students are sure they heard a snake and a parrot coming from their room

- the principal who comments on his family and it spreads around the school, a real annoyance

- Kalim will be the first to jump on you (literally) and ask questions non-stop, Jamil will be behind him sighing

Fairest Queen

- it will be a Vil 2 lol

- very photogenic and videogenic

- has a HUGE wardrobe

- potions? nah, the thing is to produce perfumes and have your own company

- very artistic, knows things about this area that are even scary

- a bit dreamy and romantic

- it's public knowledge that your blood comes from the queen, so no surprises for anyone

- I think I would only have political relationships in Pomefiore

Lord of the Underworld

- ...lazy...just a little

- sarcastic as hell

- her flaming hair is hidden with magic but nothing that a good surge can't make it shine and break the illusion, if your hair is long, it will look like Idia's

- speaking of this boy, someone saved him, as he would be his main source of entertainment

- you are a bit unlucky

- he is in Idia's room along with Ortho, just browsing around until a news item in which his face and that of hades are side by side and in the title it says "the youngest descendant of the lord of the underworld"

- olympus is being cursed and Idia is freaking out about how disturbing you look

Fairy of Thorns

- former fae royalty

- doesn't mean it's not respected there

- amazing with magic, never missed a spell

- sure, you have horns and maybe you have green skin

- polite and elegant

- the night is like a sister

- has a small garden of carnivorous plants and poisonous plants

- Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek know his identity and it is because of the last individual that the rest of the school finds out

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zebracakesarecopingmechanisms · 7 months

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Assigning each ASOUE book a TMA entity (+why)

*Also taking the Netflix show’s portrayal/atmosphere into account.

The Bad Beginning: Web 🕸️

The Baudelaires are beginning to realize that things have been going on behind the scenes that they can’t understand; they are almost completely trapped in Olaf’s scheme til Klaus finds a loophole.

The Reptile Room: Hunt 🦷

The Incredibly Deadly Viper is initially percieved as a threat, if short-lived, and the Baudelaires are surrounded by dangerous creatures. Simultaneously, this is the book in which they truly realize Olaf is determined to keep chasing them.

The Wide Window: Lonely ☁️

Imagery of a large, empty house in a grey, foggy lake setting combined with the theme of grief. They are also without their guardian for a while after she faked suicide and was temporarily presumed dead.

The Miserable Mill: Dark 🌑

The Baudelaires do not know what happened with their parents here; information is being hidden from them. Klaus’ vision is literally impaired at several points in the story due to his glasses being damaged, in addition to the mandatory nightly “lights out” immediately after dinner.

The Austere Academy: Slaughter🔪

Vice Principal Nero’s fixation on the violin provides frenzied music, a common theme of the slaughter. The children are collectively cruel to the Baudelaires via Carmelita’s leadership. They demonstrate moblike behavior at the pep rallies.

The Ersatz Elevator: Spiral 🌀

The penthouse has hundreds of rooms and corridors in which one can easily be lost; there are repeating patterns on walls and furniture as well as the children’s clothing. Proportions seem exaggerated, ie the scale of the house, the limo, Esmé’s hat and fur coat, etc. The elevator is a false door that acts as a deception. Esmé is the first character to convincingly lie to the Baudelaires, and the contradictory rules of the In/Out system are nonsensical and confusing. And, of course, there is literally a Red Herring at the auction.

The Vile Village: Buried ⚰️

The Baudelaires are, in a literal sense, in a dry and dusty desert village full of sand. In addition to this, Duncan and Isadora are trapped together in the cramped, dark space of the fountain for the bulk of the story. In a more figurative sense, the Baudelaires are also buried under extensive suffocating and restrictive laws.

The Hostile Hospital: Eye 👁️

Heimlich Hospital contained files of information on nearly every conceivable subject; a massive gathering of knowledge by a man who ironically has poor vision. Olaf keeps a constant watch through the security cameras, and when Klaus is being forced to operate on his sister, an entire theater is seeing him.

The Carnivorous Carnival: Flesh 🥩

While the “carnival freaks” are of course not actually examples of body horror and are just people with deformities, they are still viewed as such by audiences within the narrative. Additionally, Madame Lulu is literally eaten alive by lions.

The Slippery Slope: Vast 🌊

In this case, the Vast mainly refers to the sky and heights, though the ocean is incorporated at the very end leading into the Grim Grotto. Falling off the mountain is a constant background fear; Sunny’s cage is thrown off the edge, and we see Kit do her little falling-and-flying trick with the dragonfly wings.

The Grim Grotto: Corruption 🪰

I was tempted to put the Vast here, but honestly the ocean itself was more of a unusual setting than a legitimate source of fear. The major conflict of the story was the infection/contamination of the Medusoid Mycelium.

The Penultimate Peril: Stranger 🎭

The Baudelaires do not know whether they anyone are speaking with is trustworthy, especially Ernest vs. Dewey.

The End: Extinction 🏭

The island is partially covered in garbage and debris, and everyone there is poisoned by the Medusoid Mycelium and will presumably be wiped out.

*Honorable mentions to the Desolation (fire, suffering) the Lonely (very few believe or help) and the Hunt (Count Olaf’s constant pursuit) as overtones of the entire series.

#asoue spoilers #like big time #tma #the magnus archives #tma fears #tma entities #magnuspod #vfd #ASOUE #a series of unfortunate events #🤡.txt

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summercreolefanfictioner · 8 months

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jigokuraku drunk headcanons (modern au version)

ps. let's just say I wanna know what they do in the wild times (refer to my modern au fic on ao3 for more details) I also didn't include nurugai and mei cause they're kids huhu

gabimaru

does not get drunk

like zilch nada

it's sad cause he drank alcohol at the age of 8 or 9 as part of his training

and bcos his tastebuds are so numb, he actually has no idea if someone poisoned his drink or if he is drinking alcohol at all

might also be the designated driver lol

yui

you know takagi-san from "the teasing master takagi-san"?

the girl who teases her crush in a smooth way and the guy has no chance to get his revenge?

yep that's yui when she's drunk

makes gabimaru blush 24/7 by teasing him in her own innocent way

knows no boundaries bcos she is never ashamed to get close to him (he secretly likes it tho but it's better if they get a room 🫣)

even asked him to kiss her one time in front of their friends (they did but gabimaru held out a hand to cover their lips bcos yuzuriha wanted to take a picture)

does not get hangover

remembers what she did and is surprisingly happy about it

well as long as she's happy then gabi thinks all is well in the world

sagiri

the crying drunk

as someone who follows rules 24/7 and is never one to break down her strong facade, sagiri lets out her cool when under the influence of alcohol

would get soft and mushy abt every single thing

"gabimaru, your love for yui is such an admirable thing!"

😭😭😭

"I am glad I met a person like you, yuzuriha!"

would also mention names of couples from dramas she binge-watched (fyi sagiri is a major fangirl of theatres and dramas as per canon)

gets hangovers

ends up sleeping while crying

gets embarrassed abt what she did the next day

yuzuriha

the laughing drunk

anything can be filled with humor and she makes fun of anything

AND ANYONE (especially toma much to his own dismay)

would even console sagiri while she's crying bcos she loves her like that

even encourages yui to flirt with gabimaru openly just for the sake of getting a blushing pic of him as blackmail

is the main source of all drunk pics and vids

lowkey scared of senta when he's drunk bcos she is suddenly reminded of senta when he's in his study mode

everyone is suddenly friendly to her after drinking parties (some would still not hesitate to threaten her just kidding)

senta

strict scary drunk

the one who commands the rowdy crowd bcos he can and he will

yuzuriha thought senta will just be that one quiet drunk in the corner

until she remembered senta as a focused individual who lectures her bcos of her poor grades

even sagiri and tenza got mad respect towards him

he is clueless abt this alternate personality

and yes no one tells him abt it

toma

the angry drunk

I swear he is angry at anything and anyone

would even pick fights bcos he believes he is righteous like that

it's like shugen has another brother from the criminal side of things 👀

would still go boasting abt how his older bro is the coolest guy he's ever met

but will also fight him bcos he is drunk and his vision is blurry so he doesn't recognize he is speaking to him

would challenge everyone to a drinking game, especially fuchi and gantetsusai

he loses tho

barfs everywhere (might've slept on them too)

is the one who threatens yuzuriha the next day despite hangover

chobe

the buddha drunk

yeah chobe is wild and brash and has that typical yankee attitude but when he drinks, he suddenly turns into the wisest man alive

preaches good things abt life much to toma's chagrin

even tells gabimaru not to resist yui's flirting attempts bcos she is showing her love like that

tells stories abt how he saw toma as a baby and how it turned his life for the better

"I don't mind doing everything for my brother"

he says that with a gentle smile on his face (creepiest thing ever)

would also cry with sagiri abt soft and mushy things

he's not bothered by his drunk antics tho (but toma is hence why he is on his way to strangle yuzuriha)

tenza

delirious drunk

like he sees things no one sees and laughs about it

acts like he's best buds with everyone

has the habit of taking his clothes off bcos it's so warm and he's feeling hot (does not even care if there are people around)

would even defend this habit by saying "being naked should be normalized! people don't wear clothes centuries ago!"

does not remember everything until nurugai tells him abt it

apologizes to everyone the next day

shion

another delirious one

tbh he can handle alcohol so well but for a blind man, he "sees" things (based on his pov lol)

he tells everyone how tenza looks like a slug of meatball

also walks in a zigzag manner but still thinks he's walking on a straight path

in fear that he might be involved in further accidents, fuchi decides to throw the liquid out of his cup out the window

lectures everyone the next day abt how excessive drinking can ruin their lives (um excuse me????)

shugen

another crying one

tbh no one really invited him (except for sagiri)

is actually a combination of sagiri and toma tho

would fight everyone but would also cry when the other person fights back

"why are you fighting me? didn't you know that war is bad?"

lectures gabimaru abt not flirting back with yui

"you should be grateful your lady is showing adoration for you and your manliness"

mans up the next day and takes responsibility for his shameful actions

jikka

the drunk who acts like they're soooooo drunk

I won't elaborate any further cause jikka is always drinking in the manga

yes he also has blackmail pics and videos like yuzuriha

beware of him at all costs

fuchi and gantetsusai

designated drivers

I joined these two bcos they both observe the people at the party

and they could really hold their alcohol pretty well

at par with gabimaru ngl

would always look out for shion in case he destroys things

also calms senta down when he's angry

tbh gabimaru was their designated driver lol

but bcos gabimaru is ummm "busy" with his wife, they're the ones tasked with taking care of everyone

teases the shit out of everyone bcos no one fights against them

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devilry-revelry · 2 days

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Riata | The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean

Summary: Two times the Ghoul used his lasso to wrangle Lucy MacLean, and one time she actually liked it.

Tags: Fallout Prime TV Series Spoilers (nothing huge, though), The Ghoul is his own warning, Lucy is a bit of a silly Gucy, older man x younger woman

Triggers: Hostage situation, abuse/torture

Lucy was thirsty. Very thirsty. So thirsty that it was overwhelming. So thirsty that it became real dang difficult to think of much else despite how desperately she tried to keep her mind busy. If she wasn’t being held hostage by a dastardly noseless man (she was), and still in the vault (she wasn’t), she would be able to commit herself to a number of things to keep her troubled mind occupied. She could go train; do her gymnastics, or her fighting, or go to shooting practice. She’d be able to brush up on the latest chapters being covered by the MacLean family book club, or prepare a lesson plan for an upcoming history class. Without her typical go-to’s, she had taken to mentally reciting lines from her favorite movies but it was getting harder and harder to focus. What should have been the opening lines from The Man and His Dog turned into her reviewing the symptoms of dehydration.

Dry mouth (check). Trembling (goodness, her hands wouldn’t stop quaking). Thirst (she was so thirsty). Her captor, the awful, awful man, made a bit of a game out of her predicament. He would mosey to a stop near decrepit, poisoned water sources and taunt Lucy.

“Bet yer thirsty, huh, sugar?” he’d drawl. “All this water and not a single drop for the poor little vaultie to drink.”

On some occasions he would go out of his way to splash the water source around. The ripples broke the greasy stagnation, made the water look a little less putrid, and more palatable. Sometimes the Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter would join in on the torment with a poignant click, click, click. On one occasion it prompted the undead-looking cowboy to release an alarming cackle that would have been befitting a movie villain. Dastardly, indeed.

The click, click, clicking, the endless taunting, and the relentless sun were a most formidable tag team and Lucy found her resolve breaking far sooner than she had expected. The water looked more like waste product than it did actual liquid. It was a puddle nestled in a questionable container, tucked away in the middle of some dilapidated buildings. She lamented not drinking from a broken toilet three stops ago. That water at least looked somewhat clean. Her knees gave way, nearly collapsing into the sand before she dipped trembling hands into the water and took big greedy gulps. It tasted sour and acrid; nothing like water. It left an oily coating in her throat that made her gag. Lucy swallowed down the sensation, desperate to keep it down.

Out of her periphery, the man had stooped down beside her. He looked disgustingly smug as Lucy met his eyes. He was alarmingly proficient with baiting her into getting angry, and getting her to take verbal snipes at him. Thankfully this particular back-and-forth was brief, as the noseless man was swept away in a coughing fit. During their travels, he had been incredibly stalwart in his management of her. He hadn’t let his guard down once; not even when he went to relieve himself – and to be honest, good for him, because Lucy had been more than prepared to make a grand escape attempt the second she heard his fly unzip.

The coughing overtook her captor, dragging him into a hacking, drooling mess. His guard was finally down and Lucy made a run for it.

By the time she reached the end of the block of destroyed houses she could still hear him wheezing for air. She took a hard turn down another sand-packed street, and performed a hood-slide just like the ones she had seen in some of her dad’s movies.

But then she saw the ditch; the fudging massive hole in the ground where there should have been more buildings, maybe a city, maybe people. It was a void in the earth and the sheer force of shock she felt upon seeing it slowed her progress to a complete stop. That’s when the rope appeared, dropping clean over her head before cinching up tight at her waist. Lucy didn’t even have enough time to be properly perplexed before she was yanked off her feet and tumbling butt over tea kettle through the sand.

Desperation kicked in. Lucy had been a good hostage. Though she admittedly could have tried harder at being amicable, she had been polite. She addressed him as sir when she spoke to him, and thanked him the one time he had let her go to relieve herself. All in all, this situation withstanding, she had been a dang good hostage – but not any more. His gnarled, mottled hands ended up near her face, one of the fingers dipping into her mouth as she screamed and struggled against the tight lasso. In a fit of rage, Lucy bit down with every ounce of force she could muster. She tasted salt, grainy sand, and then her mouth flooded with a wave of hot copper.

Lucy MacLean had bitten off her assailant’s finger. Beyond the surprise at her own ferocity, she expected him to lash out and maybe finally kill her but her captor didn’t even hint at the pain. If anything, he said something that could have maybe been praise…?

He still cut off her pointer finger, though.

The Mojave was hell on earth.

If Lucy could turn back time to when she was at the Santa Monica observatory, right to the exact moment when the Ghoul said, “You comin’?” she would make sure that she said no. Heck, she would make sure to say fuck no. There had been enough chasing down Hank MacLean to last her an entire lifetime. Quite frankly, her father wasn’t the man she had thought he was and chasing him across the desert just made her dislike him all the more. The only highlight to the excursion was that Lucy and Ghoul were on the same team; she wasn’t a hostage and the Ghoul had prepared for the journey. They had food and water, but they were forced to adhere to strict rationing. While they were able to hunt and forage for food, the nights they didn’t manage to find something were lean, and the thirst was constant.

On one day in particular, a handful of days into their trip, when the sun was at its zenith and being particularly brutal, Lucy’s throat started to chafe. There wasn’t enough moisture in her mouth to swallow and soothe the ache but out of habit she kept trying. It left her throat feeling grittier than sandpaper. After one particular attempt to swallow down the pain she nearly choked when it felt as if her throat had stopped working. Her pace slowed almost to a stop and her hand moved to cup her jugular.

Marching diligently a few feet away, the Ghoul whistled to get her attention just before tossing a small stone in her direction. Lucy managed to catch it, but only just barely. It was smaller than her palm, and close to the size of the old hard candy that Betty used to give the kids in the vault. The stone was brilliantly white on the edges with pockets and grooves tinged an earthy brown. This particular excursion with the Ghoul was significantly less hostile. The first couple of days were awkward, and strained, but Lucy soon grew comfortable in his presence. He was still a bit too rough-and tumble, and a little too prone to anger, but he had grown far more patient with her. The ghoul still liked to push her buttons though, getting a fair bit of amusement with getting her worked up. So when he tossed the rock at her, she was almost completely positive he had done it to see her flinch. Just as she was priming herself to make an exaggerated show of rolling her eyes and throwing it back at him, the Ghoul tossed a similarly size stone into his mouth.

“Go on,” he said, the rock tucked into his cheek. “It’ll help. Just mind those perdy teeth’a yers, princess.”

Though Lucy was skeptical, she plopped the pebble on to her dry tongue. It tasted like nothing at first, and then she began to salivate. It was salty, with tinges of something earthy, and carrying the grit of the Mojave sand. Groaning in relief, Lucy gulped down the precious moisture as it pooled in her mouth. The ache in her throat received a modicum of sweet relief.

“It stops workin’ after a while,” he continued on, giving her a sidelong glance. “Doesn’t do much for dehydration but it stops ya from breathing through your mouth.”

“Thank you so much,” Lucy said in earnest. She mustered enough energy to send him a thankful smile. “Where did you learn that?”

“Ol’ trick I learned back in boot camp.” After a beat of silence he added, “Don’t choke. Don’t think I won’t eat you if you die out here.”

Boot camp. Did that mean he had been with the Brotherhood of Steel? She knew better than to ask outright. The personal questions were usually what got him annoyed the fastest.

Lucy tucked the rock into her cheek, feeling the stone clack against her teeth. “One of these days I’m going to ask you everything I want to know about you, and you’re going to give me answers.”

“Sure, I’ll letcha know.”

“You will not.”

“No,” he agreed on a huffed breath, a small twitch of his lips belying his amusement. “I will not.”

“Because you like arguing, and getting a rise out of people?”

“People? Nah, sweetheart. Only you.”

They fell into a mutual silence, trudging onward through the sea of sand. The Ghoul was right. The pebble stopped assisting with saliva production maybe an hour later. The grating thirst returned, and it returned with a vengeance. If she could go back she would say no. If she could go back, she would return to her vault and have a luxurious shower and a hot meal. If she could go back—

There was a structure jutting out of the sand in the not-so-far distance. It shifted and flagged under the waves of the beating sun, but Lucy was almost completely sure she could make out the jutting slab of tin on the roof.

“Holy moly,” she rasped, slowing. “You see that?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Can…” she didn’t like asking the Ghoul for favors. Didn’t like the idea of him seeing her as a weak link, but she was desperate for a break. “Can we stop there for the night?”

The ghoul had already changed trajectory, picking up his pace as he said, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Lucy tailed him, matching his pace and feeling a fresh kick of energy when they grew close enough to the shed to determine that it wasn’t just a mirage. She got a little ahead of herself then. Once it was confirmed that the structure was real she moved to a jog, and then an all out run. They found shade. They found shelter for the night. Through her excitement, and the sound of her own rampant breathing, Lucy could hear the Ghoul call out to her.

“Easy, darlin’. Let’s check it out first.”

While she could process that she had heard his voice, her sun-fried mind was unable to properly process the words. Running through the sand made her legs burn, her mouth was watering with exertion. They could have a fire for the night, a properly cooked meal! She could make out the shape of a door against the old wooden structure, and could see the way that sand had built up over the bottom of the frame.

The Ghoul called out again, his voice sharper, “Goddammit, Vaultie, slow down!”

But still, Lucy ran. When she reached the shack she stuttered to an uneven stop, reaching for the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled for all she was worth. The door resisted under the weight of built up sand, and so she pulled harder, throwing her weight into pulling the door open.

A bone-chilling hiss shot out from the shack, followed by something guttural and shrill. Something lunged from the dark of the shack,

“Lucy!”

All she could do was stare, even as she acknowledged the danger before her. Lucy was off balance after fighting with the door, and her mind couldn’t quite work out whether to right herself or make a run for it. The creature that emerged from the darkness was human once. It had been like the Ghoul once. The feral ghoul was much more gaunt than the others she had seen. Its bony fingers looked too much like claws, and the skin of its face was long gone, exposing skull and teeth. And she could do nothing else but watch as it came at her with both. Lucy closed her eyes as she braced for impact – and then something wrapped tight around her ribs, and she was being yanked backwards.

Lucy fell into the burning sand in a heap, her cry of surprise being washed out by the abrupt sound of a single gunshot. When she opened her eyes the dead feral ghoul was at her feet.

“Fucking hell, Lucy–”

“—I’m sorry—“

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

“—I just—“

“Just tryin’ t’get yerself killed?!”

“—no, no—“

The Ghoul drew breath to continue berating her but the wind suddenly vanished from his sails. His shoulders deflated. He closed his eyes, and huffed, “Fuck, girl.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, squinting up at him. The sand was far too hot to be laying in, but she was almost afraid to move. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking–”

She expected a short, angry rebuttal but all he did was cast a look about the desert. Then he looked at the dead feral. He gave a tug to the rope, it cinched tighter, digging into her skin and probably bruising. He moved past her and into the shack for a moment, then returned, holstering his weapon.

“Get in there and sit the fuck down,” he ordered.

They stayed in the shack for two nights before setting out again.

Upon getting to the other side of the Mojave, the Ghoul and Lucy ran face first into the wasteland’s golden rule: thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. Their trail had gone cold a month or two ago, and the duo had ended up involving themselves in an insurmountable amount of bullshit. The only real plus side was that there were more than enough caps coming their way, and it afforded them luxuries that Lucy once took for granted. They were able to secure room lodgings for days-long stays. They were able to afford bathing accommodations, warm food, and mostly clean water. Having a few creature comforts seemed to pull the Ghoul out of his perpetual state of fight-or-fight, but he seemed to grow even more protective of his vaultie.

Whenever they purchased lodgings they shared a room. The one time Lucy offered to buy a second room for a couple of nights he had adamantly refused. Despite having several meal options - different types, different locales - they still took every single one of their meals together. Some of their evenings felt downright domestic, and that suited Lucy just fine. The only problem was that the remnants of Nevada itched at her curiosities. Lucy wanted to go to the casinos to see, and play the games. Lucy wanted to learn the card game everyone and their sister was playing. Lucy wanted to go to the bar and try her first drink, she wanted to have dinner in the old restaurants and experience the community they were staying in. The Ghoul was very staunchly opposed, but Lucy couldn’t hold it against him. The area was apparently flush with slavers, and he obviously didn’t want to take any chances before they managed to figure out the next step in their journey…

But sometimes Lucy’s curiosity ran a little too rampant… Which was why she snuck out of their hotel room when the Ghoul was taking a bath.

The Ghoul had very begrudgingly agreed to treat Lucy to dinner down in the hotel restaurant. Lucy was jittery with excitement. During some of their more recent jobs she had found a lovely baby blue floral sundress, and she had been looking for a reason to wear it the second she tucked it away in her pack. Dinner would be the perfect opportunity. Lucy took her turn in the bathroom to get gussied up. She got washed and managed to coax a couple of lazy curls into her hair.

When she was finished, she exited the bathroom. The dress was a little worn, but it fit well. It tucked in close at the waist with a flattering boat neck. It was just a shame that she couldn’t find better shoes, and had to stick with her clunky worn traveling boots. The accessories were limited to her pistol and holster. The Ghoul gave her a brief once over, then pushed past her with a terse, “Gimme a minute.”

Lucy gave him maybe two minutes before she wrote him a note telling him that she would be waiting at the bar. After making it down the rickety stairs Lucy took the quickest of detours to the hotel’s game room. There were a couple of people milling about, sitting at slot machines and idly pushing buttons. She took in all of the colorful lights, the ringing bells, and the strange synthetic music, and then she went straight to the bar located in the restaurant area. The place was probably brilliant, once. Decked out in rich reds and opulent golds that had faded poorly.

Perching on one of the many vacant stools surrounding the bar, Lucy offered up her friendliest smile at the bartender and ordered a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. The woman had a kind face, but tired eyes. She set the bottle in front of Lucy, letting her keep the cap. The dining tables around the bar were sporadically filled, some people nursing drinks, others nursing plates of food. There was a little disappointment. She was expecting lively chatter and community, the room felt more like a ghost town. That is until the stool on her right became occupied despite the rest of the bar being open.

“This seat taken?” The man asked. He was rough-looking, with scars scattering up and down his neck and chin. He had dark short cropped hair and was adorned in miss matched armor. Despite his mean appearance, Lucy decided that his voice was kind.

She greeted him with a polite smile as she joked, “I guess it is now!”

There was no problem with sharing in some company until her date for the evening appeared, but the man’s friendly demeanor only put her on guard. The questions he asked were gently prying, asking where she was going and where she came from. Lucy politely skirted, silently acknowledging that there was a time not too long ago that she would have answered with a too open honesty. The Ghoul was to thank for her ability to acknowledge that even innocent questions could lead to dangerous ends.

But then in a matter of minutes her guard was down, because the man had pulled out a deck of playing cards, and had pulled the bartender in for a game of Caravan. Noticing Lucy’s interest, he offered to teach her how to play. Of course she accepted. The Ghoul was taking a while anyway, so what was the harm? The man and the bartender took turns explaining the set up, and then they dealt the cards. Lucy wasn’t sure when the man’s arm draped over her shoulder, and she wasn’t sure when the man had started sitting so close, but that was how the Ghoul found them.

“Well,” he said by way of greeting. His slow drawling voice immediately set Lucy on high alert. “Isn’t this just fuckin’ cozy?”

Lucy and her card partner glanced back. He snorted, “Easy, man. Plenty of other seats to choose from.”

The Ghoul shifted, kicking one of the legs of the stool. “That’s awfully funny, ‘cause I think I want this seat right here.”

There was danger in the Ghoul’s voice, an underlying threat. Sometimes it seemed like he leaned into the molasses in his voice to keep people off guard. Like if he let his accent thicken and his voice moved a little slower then people wouldn’t anticipate just how explosive his next move would be. Lucy cleared her throat, placing her cards face down. No one needed to die over something so mundane.

“Thank you both so much for trying to teach me, but I do believe I’m late for a dinner date with my friend here.” She turned on her stool and went to dismount just before the man grabbed her arm.

“You don’t have to go anywhere just because this ghoul doesn’t have any fucking manners—“

The Ghoul’s gloved hand shot out faster than lightning. He palmed the stranger’s head and slammed it down into the surface of the bar. It was done with so much force that the cards jumped and scattered. The stranger’s drink toppled and the glass shattered. The bartender back pedaled, holding her hands up in surrender though she looked deeply amused. Lucy hopped down from her seat and got between the Ghoul and the man before the violence escalated even further. As the man wailed his pain, curling in on himself and grasping his head, Lucy placed her hands on the Ghoul’s chest and gave him a gentle push backward.

“Hey,” she said earnestly. “Hey let’s go, huh? We can grab something to eat and go sit outside, or back to the room?”

“Fuck you, you fucking ghoul!” The man raged. “You fucking piece of shit—“

“You promised me dinner, remember? Come on, ignore him,” Lucy said softly, trying to keep her voice low and gentle. The Ghoul’s eyes lowered to Lucy. “Let’s go get something to eEEEEAT—“ in a move that was just as fast as his assault on the man, Lucy MacLean was picked up and tossed over the Ghoul’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then he did a sharp pivot and marched away. “Hey! Hey, put me down!”

“Hush.”

“No! This isn’t fair!”

She griped and complained their whole way back to their room, and the Ghoul let her. He did not put her down again until they were in their room and the door was shut.

“What the fudge—“ no, no this time she needed the big guns. “What the fuck was that about? There was nothing happening, nothing untoward. They were just showing me a card game while I waited—“ he was moving across the room towards his bed where he kept his things, his back to her as she raged. “— and then you come in and just attack him?”

“He was sittin’ awfully goddamn close to just be showin’ you a game’a cards.”

“And that’s a crime?”

The Ghoul’s back was still facing her, but he had stopped rummaging through his pack. His posture straightened, but he did not look back towards her.

“And if he wanted somethin’ more from you, vaultie?”

“That—that isn’t a crime either! Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going back downstairs.” She turned on her heel. She fumbled with the lock and pushed the door open. “Look, I don’t want to fight okay—“ she started into the hall just as that gosh dang honda knot dropped over her shoulders. It snapped shut at her waist and she was pulled backward. It wasn’t enough to send her careening to the ground, this wasn’t the violent wrangling she had received in the past, but it was enough to make Lucy stumble. For a moment she thought she was for sure going to land on her butt, but the Ghoul was suddenly behind her. She tumbled into his body and he secured her there with an arm around her waist. The door slammed shut and then she was being spun around, pushed up against it. “Sir—!” Lucy barely had the chance to process that there was a big gloved hand at her throat before the Ghoul was kissing her.

This kiss wasn’t like the kisses that she had shared with her husband. Those had been a little sloppy with her nervousness, and felt a little cold. Probably because that jerk Monty was planning to kill her. This kiss wasn’t like the sweet, chaste kisses she had shared with Maximus. The man was inexperienced but he tried in earnest; but there was just no time to learn and no time to teach.

This kiss was consuming. This kiss was claiming. This kiss was sensual in a way that Lucy had never experienced. The Ghoul took his time with her, kissing deep but all silken and slow. Gripping at the lapels of his duster, Lucy sighed. She would have leaned in closer if it weren’t for the hand at her throat. It wasn’t squeezing, merely holding her in place and keeping her at the Ghoul’s mercy. Aching heat pooled at her center as his tongue stoked against hers in a motion mimicking sex. He withdrew suddenly, marking his departure with a harsh nip to her lower lip.

“Ho—“ Lucy licked her lips, her eyes fluttering open. “Holy moly.”

“You don’t wanna fight,” the Ghoul said, his voice husky and low. His free hand reached to push her bangs away from her eyes. “So you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to let some fuckin’ asshole get they close to you again. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yep.”

Another nip — sharp and painful — quickly chased by a suckle at the afflicted sight, a swipe of the tongue. Criminy, it was good.

“And you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to leave this goddamn room without me again.”

“Uh-huh.”

The palm and pressure at her throat vanished, and his hands dipped to loosen the rope at her waist. He didn’t back away, keeping close and forcing her arms up so he could guide the lasso up over her chest, past her head— and then her wrists were pinned up against the door, pulled together by the rope, and secured by his hand. Lucy practically melted into a puddle of goo, becoming pliant and needy. It would appear that she was deeply interested in a partner who was dominant. How interesting. How good to know.

Lucy swallowed hard, then whispered, “But, um, maybe you should kiss me again, though? Just to make real dang sure I won’t argue… ” The ‘please’ hung on her lips.

The Ghoul’s mouth quirked slowly. “You want me to shut you up?” The hold on her wrists got a little firmer. He dragged his mouth over her jaw, then down along her neck. “I could shut you up good and proper, darlin’.”

Lucy’s mouth watered, she hummed her interest.

“But you’ve been bitching about me takin’ you to dinner, so we oughtta do that first.”

The Ghoul moved away from her in a blink, abandoning her near the door and directing his attention to re-wrapping his rope. Lucy blinked, trying to properly process what had just occurred. He tossed a glance in her direction, his eyes assessing her with wicked amusement. “You ready?”

Still breathless, a little confused, and way too dang warm, Lucy replied, “Okey-dokie.”

#fallout #fallout fanfiction #fallout tv series #cooper howard x lucy maclean #the ghoul x Lucy Maclean #Lucy MacLean #The Ghoul #Cooper Howard #the ghoul x Lucy #fallout prime spoilers #spoilers #violence #older man x younger woman #human x ghoul

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where-dreamers-go · 6 months

Text

"Lucky Treat" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: This is a part two for “Things Happen” with 90s Robin. What happens when Reader has good luck all day?

Warnings: Use of (Y/N).

Word Count: 1,952 words)

~~~

Friday night. Friends and family dressed for a fun filled night full of candy. Others dressed in their spooky best for scares or music-filled delight. A costume party!

You were having a great day! A spook-tacular day, in fact. You managed to find a coupon for candy and stocked up on your favorites. The weather was clear and cool.

Perfect for a night of chilling spectacles or more specifically—your friend’s costume party. Costumes were highly encouraged. They didn’t have to tell you twice.

So a small cape and pointed hat you wore, spellbound accessories for your black costume. Classy, comfortable, and quite flattering on you.

Too bad any ‘pocket’ wasn’t good enough to hold any more than your apartment keys and small candy bar.

The party at your friend’s home was as lively as it was full of candy and treats. They had planned it weeks in advance.

That was Gotham City for you.

Night life was as busy as the daylight hours.

Your night had led you to return towards the ever hauntingly, delightful dessert table. All done up with cobwebs, tiny pumpkins, candy, and themed treats.

Cupcakes this small shouldn’t be this good, you thought. Maybe it’s because they look like cute pumpkins. Or because my friends work magic in the kitchen.

So obviously, you didn’t feel any guilt for eating a third cupcake. It was made with love. And a hint of seasonal spices. Much as most of the treats that were set out.

All in all, the party was a success. Fun, joyful, and a little loud.

Nothing you couldn’t handle over by the treats.

“Are these poisoned apples yours?” A voice inquired from the corner of the table.

Looking over to the source of the voice, you were surprised to see a familiar dashing heroic man with a long cape.

Butterflies filled your stomach for a moment.

“Robin?”

Your eyes did a once over on him. Taking in his suit, dark mask, and smile. You didn’t think your chances of seeing him again were that great.

You laughed, “My friend wasn’t kidding when they talked about inviting you.” You stepped closer to him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Curious to how you’ve been. No more cake accidents?” Robin inquired as he leaned closer, the bass of a song trying to disrupt all conversation.

Grinning delightedly, you answered, “All cake has survived.”

“No puddles or doorways to worry about?”

“Not lately. No.”

The amount of smiling between you both gave you a sneaky suspicion that you left a much deeper impression when you first met.

Say something funny. Ask if he’s busy. Offer, you glanced at the table, candy corn? You looked to the table behind him.

“May I offer you a potion?”

He tilted his head. “A potion of what exactly?” Robin peered over his shoulder.

“Fruit juice.”

“Sounds safe.”

Walking passed Robin, your cape swayed behind you. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had walked blocks and talked with him on your birthday, you’d be much more nervous. As many fans of his would be.

You poured him a cup of juice while becoming more aware of his presence behind you.

Easy does it. He’s being friendly. No spilling.

As careful as you could, you turned around and successfully handed him the cup. No accidents. No problem.

Oh, you thought as Robin’s lips touched the cup. Your mind ran through the night of your birthday when he kissed you. When he held you to him. All as a birthday gift. The highlight of a poor, clumsy day.

Robin did not hide his knowing smile.

“So how was the rest of your birthday?” He asked. “Any more surprises or gifts?”

Fingers fiddling with your costume, you shrugged.

“Anything?”

“Well, okay, the small cake was delicious.” You answered with a laugh. “I almost didn’t have the restraint to leave leftovers.”

“A sweetheart with a sweet tooth,” he mused. “Maybe you should’ve dressed as a character from Candy Land.”

“That would be much brighter colors, mister dark hero suit.”

“True, but your costume right now is really bewitching.”

“It’s nothing scary.”

“No…just feels like you casted a few spells on me already.” He wet his bottom lip. “Have you casted spells on anyone else?”

“Not a soul.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

Robin smiled with an air of soft satisfaction.

The cup of juice was soon emptied and songs led the party onward through the night. Dances were shared along with laughter. Sugar rushes were made as excuses for others’ silliness. All was a safe and fun night.

Stepping away from the center of all dancing, you took a breather and checked the time.

After eleven? You thought as you made sure your keys were still in your pocket. Time really does fly.

“I didn’t tire you out too much, did I?” Robin asked as he came to stand beside you.

“A little, but I did dance before you showed up.”

You patted his arm and glanced around in an attempt to locate your friend. Surprisingly, they were near the front door.

Cool. Okay. But now to tell Robin.

Meeting Robin’s gaze still lit a warmth in your chest. A reminder of both your position as a fan of his and the friendliness you two shared.

You weren’t even sure what to call it. He was a hero and you were a citizen.

Did he know I’d be here?

You blinked.

“Need something to drink?”

“Ah, no. Actually, I have to get going.” You pointed to a clock.

“I thought you’d like the witching hour.”

“I do, but gotta get home like Cinderella without a carriage.”

“Do you need a ride?” He asked, setting jokes aside.

Shaking your head, you said simply, “I walked.”

“You live in Gotham City, you know that, right? And it’s dark out.”

“Yup.”

Robin sighed, “Can I take you home?”

“It’s more than a few blocks.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t walk here.”

“Oh. Okay, cool. Let me just tell my friend I’m leaving.”

Robin waited patiently. A face of heroics and charm as other guests greeted him once they realized who he was.

Prompted to leave with raised eyebrows from your friend and a small party favor bag pushed into your arms, you stepped outdoors.

I really owe them. Big time. You thought as Robin walked beside you. What even is this friendship?

Leading further away, Robin said, “I hope you like going fast.”

Light reflected off of clean metal and sleek framework.

“Oh.” You stopped.

Motorcycle.

Robin swung a leg over and sat on his ride.

“Um.” You weren’t quite sure what to say or think without images of closeness distracting your mind.

He patted the space behind him on the seat.

“I don’t know what I was expecting.” You admitted honestly.

“Hey, I’ll get you home safely.”

You got closer and examined the bike. “And in, what, two minutes?”

Reaching his gloved hand out for yours, he added, “We can take a scenic route.”

“Maybe another time. When I’m mentally prepared.”

“I thought you knew I had a motorcycle.” He steadied you as you sat behind him. “You still have the Robin bracelet, don’t you?”

“Yes. Are you gonna search me for it or question my authority as a fan?” You wrapped your arms around his middle and kept the goodie bag against him there.

“No. I trust you.” He started the engine.

“Because I didn’t step on your feet earlier?” You joked into his ear.

He sent you a grin over his shoulder. Charming and a little cheeky.

Heat rushed to your chest and neck.

Here we go.

The initial rush upon first speeding down Gotham’s streets by far exceeded your expectations. It was fast, precise. Technology more advanced and fully under the control of Robin.

One of the best kind of thrills.

In a matter of minutes, hardly a few, your destination was in sight.

Maybe we should have taken the scenic route, you thought. And he still remembers where I live. Should that tell me something? Does he do this for other people? Other fans?

Preoccupied with your thoughts and the muscles of Robin’s suit, you held on a little tighter as the bike pulled into the building’s lot. A few outdoor lights illuminated the area in an expanse of an almost blue hue.

Engine silent, neither of you moved.

“So, uh… May I walk you up to your door?” Robin asked over his shoulder.

“Sure.”

There might not had been any talking on the way over, but Robin’s actions spoke much louder.

Again, he steadied you. Made sure you were back on your two feet before he even got off his motorcycle. He followed you up the stairs without a comment on how many.

What an incredibly unique experience to be having again. Robin taking you home safely.

Would it be the last time?

Considering he accepted your friend’s invitation to their party and spent the majority of his time with you; you were confident you’d see Robin again.

You turned away from your door.

“Robin, trick or treat?”

The question seemed to visibly wake him. He stood taller. The details of his suit were on full display.

“It’s not Halloween, but—treat.” Said Robin with a ghost of a smile.

Your own smile appeared tenfold as you further questioned him, “Would you like a Kiss?”

“Only if you’re offering.” He smirked and eyed your lips.

You hummed teasingly, mischievously.

Perhaps you were enjoying it too much. Inspired and wrapped in the excitement from the party.

Hands hidden behind your back, you stepped into Robin’s space.

His eyelids slowly closed.

Oh, it would be so nice. But…

Quietly, you reached into the bag and pulled out the treat you had pictured. Its shape recognizable even through touch.

With a gentle tap, you had the wrapped chocolate touch the tip of his nose.

On contact, Robin opened his eyes with surprise and amusement curving his lips.

“Tricked with a treat,” he mused.

You couldn’t help nor hide your grin.

What would he say next? What would he do?

The play on words you two were having was increasing with cleverness and fun. Opportunities opening.

“Trick or treat?” Robin countered your mischievous actions.

You made an exaggerated thinking expression. Gaze elsewhere for a couple of moments.

“Trick.” You decided. Whether boldly, bravely, or in a challenge, you did not truly care which. You were interested in what Robin would do.

Leaning in, Robin kissed your nose.

Oh goodness. You thought with a smile.

“What a terrible trick, Robin.” You said in mock offense. “Making one think they’ll get a proper kiss.”

He smirked.

Heat rose to your neck. Perhaps you knew what was coming. You sure hoped you did.

Robin then, passing his hand around your waist to your back, pressed an extensively long kiss to your lips. One that sent your mind into swirls of color. A kiss that could knock the air out of you.

You gripped at his suit feebly. The firmness of it sent your knees trembling as Robin brought you in even closer. It left little to the imagination.

His lips left for only a second before giving one last kiss.

Wow.

He smiled before his blue eyes sparkled.

“Trick or treat.” Robin held up a handful of candy triumphantly.

What? You glanced down to your bag then gawked at him.

Smirking, he tapped your hip and stepped back. Out of your arms.

“See yah later.”

You snickered, “Bye sneaky candy thief.”

He sent a wink. Proud.

You watched him leave out of sight before heading indoors. Your heart racing as you considered how perfect the night went.

What is even happening?

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

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#dick grayson #90s robin #dick grayson x reader #robin x reader #where dreamers go #batman forever #batman & robin

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

I hope this isn't too late. But what about Riddle, Vil and Neige with a (male if okay) S/O who's hobby is singing and playing electric guitar/bass, they especially enjoy performing private shows for them? Non self-aware AU too if it isn't too much to ask.

Idk if I really described the male reader here. I usually write gender-neutral stuff so... let's see.

Also, I don't play the bass or the electric guitar so if you do play one or both please don't come after my jugular. I'm just trying my best.

Yandere x reader

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, imprisonment, poison, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, stalking

Riddle Rosehearts/Vil Schoenheit/Neige LeBlanche-Having a musically talented S/O

So you have a talent for music, huh?

Riddle thought he knew everything about you which wasn't that hard considering that he was your Prefect

But then you suddenly took up the bass, began to sing and... suddenly Riddles soul was in heaven

Doesn't matter what you are playing or singing

Any kind of artistic talent of yours is something he could only dream of witnessing

And now he does

You know that riddles head can get pretty red when he is angry, right? So imagine Trey walking into the dorm only to see red-headed Riddle

The poor man is so desperate to find out what the heck happened

The truth is, Riddle just listened to you

So don't be too surprised when he asks you if he could listen to you

As if he didn't already do that this smol creep

Every time he is there listening to you he is just sitting there like a stone statue

You might think “Oh my God what have I done wrong??!” but the truth is he is just doing another trip to heaven

Please continue playing, you are safe

Not to mention that you are currently saving so many students from “losing their head”

If this continues Riddle might not be the only one “liking” you

Mhm so another musically talented potato in his dorm, so what?

“Oh but it's S/O...” “Oh I knew that they were a shining star on the endless sky of the night! Their perfection...”

You catch his drift, right?

Vol isn't one who will wait for long to ask you if he can listen

You deny him? He will bring up his experience in the music industry and tells you that he just wants to help you to improve!

How can you be so heartless??!

So now you are there, playing in front of the Vil Schoenheit

You could have never imagined him liking the sound of the electric guitar but there he is, tapping his finger on the armrest with the beat

He might look all calm and elegant on the outside but on the inside he is squealing, wearing a headband with your name on it and waving glowsticks

Don't think he will ever let someone else besides himself hear this

Haha you really thought he was thinking of letting you go on stage with him?

Only if you want the people who were listening poisoned

You are his very own songbird (even if you were to perform something in the genre of heavy metal)

If he is “low on gas” he isn't usable for anything (aka he is in need of hearing your music on a daily basis)

He even prepares some potions for you which help with your voice and prevent any kind of danger towards your vocal cords

But oh, you suddenly can't move your feet anymore? Don't you worry, your music is exactly as wonderful as it was when you still could. The only difference is that your world is from now on Vil.

What a shame that you are in different schools

Neige saw you for the first time when Vil forgot something and you, being one of Pomfiore, brought it to him (where Rook was is until now a mystery)

And there it happened, the fairytale cliche... love at first sight... your eyes met and... the rest is filled with darkness and a manager who was worried over him suddenly collapsing

After that Neige hopes that he can see you again... and his hopes go down the drain

Having a rival as your only information source can be quite hard

So ok, you won't be visiting sets or accompany Vil...

So he just visits you!

He says he just wants “to see the school” but uh... young man, I can see you under that window listening!

So you play a instrument and also sing! How wonderful!

Oh but you think he will tell someone like a big producer about your talent and you finally see the light of the stage?

Oh no, this is his and his only

So Neige visits and gets close to you

And then he sits in the room in which you are playing

Cute, beautiful Neige listening in awe as you play a instrument which is sound wise the exact opposite of him

Neiges words are as sweet as sugar yet bitter as poison... makes you wonder who exactly ate the poisoned apple in Snow White

“Yes my dear you are talented but there is still so much room to improve. Don't you worry, I'm here to help! Let's keep this between us! No one else! Just us!”

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere vil #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil x reader #yandere neige #yandere neige leblanche #tw: yandere #tw: imprisonment #tw: poison #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: possessive behavior #tw: stalking

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