#but drawing it almost killed me loll

[noraanne]

a more lighthearted zelink post than the last one🤍

#i love link’s royal guard armor #but drawing it almost killed me loll #annewithaneasel #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #fanart #graphite #pen and ink drawing #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom #i love link’s royal guards armor #loz totk #loz botw #tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda botw #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #loz #zelink fanart #zelink #botw link #botw zelink #botw zelda #princess zelda #link and zelda #zelda fanart #breath of the wild #breath of the wild 2 #micron #my art

[dawnagustd]

bruised || ksj

⇝ title: bruised - Seokjin is intentionally trying to make your day harder but two can play that game. ⇝ pairing: seokjin x f!reader ⇝ genre: smut ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 1k ⇝ warnings: unedited | strong language | a bit of mma training/fighting | seokjin with tattoos is definitely a warning | not so decent public acts | dry humping/grinding | scissoring/tribing.. whatever you want to call that but (yeah, i said it) | dom!reader | sub!seokjin | they both have a small crushing fetish | wrist pinning | ruined orgasm | open ending ⇝ author’s note: Written for the Catch of the Century collab. Thanks for having me and sorry it’s late.

read on ao3

“Asshole!”

Your flesh smacks the mat as your body is slammed hard. Once again, Seokjin has managed to make you look like an idiot. The gym has been closed for hours now, but he still wants to practice and make you suffer for a vendetta he has against you.

“If you fight like this next week, you’re going to be the biggest disappointment in history,” he taunts.

You lie on your back, allowing your head to loll in his direction. As he brings the water bottle to his lips, he glances over at you, catching you in the act. Quickly, you revert your gaze to the ceiling. 

As you’re focusing on the light fixtures, you curse your trainer for checking out on you and sending his egocentric son as his replacement. Someone you haven’t seen since your rookie career. The same guy that was so sure he’d hook up with you but was left in shambles when you rejected him. 

You groan and pull yourself up, feeling his eyes follow you.

“Will you stop it? You know you aren’t trying to help me.”

You don’t have anything against him, but he just irks your nerves. 

You sit on the ropes, tying your shoelaces before you two go at it again. When you look up, you find him removing his hoodie. His white loose-fitting tank does not cover any of the ink drawings covering his biceps and forearms. Again, he catches you staring, making you want to slap yourself for feeding into his already overflowing confidence.

“Then why am I here?”

You see that he’s getting into position again, so you mimic his stance. The smirk on his face only riles you up, and you make up your mind that he’ll be the one who hits the mat this time.

“One more,” he suggests. “If you can handle me.”

“Handle you?”

When he nods, you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“You can be full of me too if you want,” he winks.

Your mouth falls open after hearing his lewd remark. “You’re so disgusting.”

“I heard you were into that.”

“I’ll kill you!”

You get into position, and he counts down, rushing you at the final second, but this time he’s unsuccessful. He’s been relying on his strength to overpower you, but you have speed, and you use it to your advantage.

Seokjin’s back hits the mat with a thud and his eyes grow wide when you straddle him. He’s too shocked to move, but he can’t anyway because your thighs are squeezing him tight.

“Aw. That’s the same face you were wearing when I said I didn’t want your number,” you tease. “It hurts to take a loss, doesn’t it?”

“Get off me.”

His tone turns bitter, and you relish the moment of his defeat.

“Do you really want me to?”

He almost chokes. “Uh..”

“Uh?”

“Not really,” he gulps.

You can feel his palms starting to sweat as you pin his wrists to the mat.

“Well, tell me where I should sit.”

“Maybe a little lower?”

You lift a brow, smirking as his face begins to turn red.

“I think I know what you want, Seokjin.”

You drop your ass right on his crotch, drawing a whimper from his lips.

“I can handle you. But can you handle me?” you quiz.

The bulge growing in his pants presses against your center, piquing your curiosity more and more. Your thin spanks don’t provide much of a barrier, so you can feel everything.

Though you aren’t fond of Seokjin, you are interested in knowing if the “good reviews” are accurate. You can’t tolerate his large ego, but when he’s turning into a puddle beneath you, he’s more enjoyable.

“I was made for this.”

“Oh.”

You release his wrists from your grasp and place your hands on his broad shoulders. The first thing he does is touch your thighs and his slender fingers begin to explore your skin.

With your weight smothering his cock, you glide back and forth, using the friction to stimulate your clit. Seokjin bites back his moans, not wanting to appear worked up so easily but you make it your priority to make him lose control quickly.

You move into a different position, putting your knee on the mat while your other leg is thrown over his body. You can feel his dick jumping, his thigh muscles tightening like he has tension building in his core. He begs, but you don’t show him any pity.

“You have to take it easy,” he pants. “I might–”

“Come in your pants? I hope you do–”

“Hey, are you almost done? I gotta lock up.”

You’re quickly standing on your feet as the custodian’s voice travels through the empty gym. Seokjin does the same and the two of you pretend as if nothing’s happened.

“We’ll just be a few more minutes,” Seokjin answers.

The man is annoyed but agrees and leaves the room. Seokjin grabs your arm before you can rush and gather your belongings.

“This isn’t over,” he mutters.

You pat his chest with a smile.

“I never said it was. Meet me in the showers?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Well, you should go get it ready while I grab my shit, yeah?”

He nods. “For sure.”

Seokjin leaves the cage and makes his way to the locker rooms. Little does he know; you won’t be joining him. You pack your bag and rush to your car to head home.

You’ll tend to his bruised ego eventually, but right now, you’ll enjoy having fun with him.

#seokjin x reader #bts x reader #seokjin smut #bts smut #btsafterdarknet #thekpopuniverse #btshoneyhive #bangtansorciere #kvanity #bts fanfics #seokjin fanfics #bts imagines #seokjin imagines #sugakookitty

[melpomene-writes]

sleeper

minatozaki sana x gn! reader // angst (slight mention of blood)

your nails are bright pink, short-clipped, glinting in the dim light as you draw a line over sana’s bare stomach.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask.

“you,” sana says. her eyes are on your hands as they drift, slow and almost lazy, sketching swirls across her summer-darkened skin. around you both, the room is quiet except for cicadas screaming outside, the humming of the old lamp above your heads. it’s just the two of you — backlit, you’re sitting on sana’s hips and falling into her headfirst. sana’s eyelashes flutter. “always.”

you smile faintly, drag a finger down her side, from rib to hip.

“and you?”

“you,” you agree, almost sadly. “always.”

///

unfortunately, this is a dream.

///

one of the dreams you like, of course.

real life, not so much. real life is not so forgiving. real life goes like this: you wake up every day from dreams like these, and you are so in love with sana it hurts, and you are never going to say a god damn thing about it.

there’s also starting to be something knotted and heavy in your chest. a hopeless, uncomfortable ache. like the one they always describe in depression pamphlets.

it’s fine, you think. you are still, mostly, able to smile. so, you ignore it.

///

in ninth grade, your whole life starts to look like this blurry, vaguely sana-shaped shell.

“what did you dream about last night?”

you look up, startled.

“you look exhausted,” sana adds, pouting in sympathy. she’s stretched out across your couch, one foot hanging off the side and swinging absently, eyebrows raised in concern. it takes you a long time to bring her face into focus. “you had a bad dream?”

“yeah,” you say, meaning no, “it was pretty bad,” meaning god, i wish real life was more like that, meaning: you loved me back, and god damn, sana, everything was just perfect. “lots of spiders.” meaning so many people came to our wedding. “i couldn’t leave.” meaning: everyone saw it coming.

“oh.” sana sits up. concern is in her eyes, and she laces your fingers together slowly, deliberately, full of the kind of love you don’t need. in the afternoon light she seems vaguely made up. “i’m sorry.”

you look down at your hands.

“it’s fine,” you say, smiling faintly, swallowing. meaning it’s just not.

///

on a monday night, you get upgraded to nightmares.

there’s a dog across the patio. you’re in greece, probably, in a vacation house. it looks like a building from santorini: huge and white, all curved, and you and the dog are on the roof, sort of — a square space, brick-floored, ten yards above the ground. a breeze murmurs across the property, just barely. the sky is bright blue and cloudless where you can see it through the branches of an overgrown spruce tree on the right; there’s an s-shaped pool in the yard below, rippling slightly, surrounded by perfectly manicured grass and a fence of palm trees. you realize you’re sitting on a lawn chair, near the edge of the patio, and that you’re dripping something thin and golden off every inch of your skin, something that puddles around your bare feet and in the cracks of the floor, glimmering slightly when the sun hits it.

the dog tilts its head. it’s brindled, pretty big, with dark brown eyes and slobbery jowls like a st. bernard. much sleeker than that, but still well-muscled. sinew piled up like a mountain scape under its dark skin. the house is deathly quiet. you get the very distinct feeling that this whole town is empty.

the wind ceases.

the dog growls, tongue lolling out of its mouth in a pant, and you can smell its breath from across the patio.

“just kill me already,” you say, annoyed, “and i can wake up. okay?”

it regards you for a second, as if considering. saliva drips down around its feet from its open mouth.

then it turns and disappears around a corner.

you spring up after it. you go flying down a set of open-air stairs to the glimmering pool and the dead grass, the steps flanked by poinsettias, the sun so bright you have to wave it out of your face like a bug. the dog’s claws make a clicking sound even in the dirt. you follow it around the edge of the pool, wondering how it leaves footprints in such dry soil, and it finally draws to a pause after the two of you make a full loop. when you look up, sana and taehyung are standing in front of you.

“what are you doing here?” sana blinks at you, silent. her hair is curled down to her waist and dripping wet, her eyes dark even in the sunlight, her face completely blank. momo is wearing the same indeterminable expression.

the dog is circling around their feet, placid.

“hello?”

sana turns to look at taehyung, lightning fast, and whispers something in her ear. taehyung does nothing, but the dog reacts instantly, its gaze sharpening, ears perking, eyes zeroing in on you. it pauses at sana’s feet, calculating. then moves forward.

“what are you doing?”

the dog snarls.

“what did you say to it?” you back up, and it follows, slow and steady. ripping up the grass with its claws. vibrating all over.

“sana—” the growling crescendos to a bark, and fear strikes your heart — your feet catch on the edge of the pool, and you stumble, feeling the water splash up over your ankle, you’re hauntingly aware of sana’s eyes watching your every move. “sana, i—”

“sorry,” the dog says, in a human voice — in sana’s voice, almost. and it pauses for half a second, giving you time to cry out, before it leaps forward with an impossible strength, apologizing again in sana’s voice, and pushes you into the water, claws snagged in your shirt, its whole body thrashing with a snarl that pulls all the breath out of your lungs, and you wake up and you’re never a dog person again.

///

“y/n, are you okay?”

“yeah,” you answer, absent. “i haven’t been sleeping well.”

you woke up this morning with circles so dark they looked like black holes. your excuse is an understatement.

“you’re not yourself.” sana’s lips are set in a frown. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m tired.”

“besides that.”

“nothing.”

“don’t lie to me, y/n.”

“you wouldn’t understand.”

“try me.”

that long pause, fragile, tenuous.

“i’m so tired,” you say, softly. tears brim in your eyes. “sana, i’m exhausted.”

sana’s features fall into place — concern, sympathy, sadness. she holds out both arms. “come here.”

her offer hurts more than it helps, but you take it.

///

you fall into your dream, the one with the dog again. right next to you this time. staring out at the pool as you face the other way.

“hey, you,” you say. it doesn’t move. under its black-and-brown fur you can see its lungs inhaling, exhaling, slowly, its expression calm and body perfectly still. you lean over and rest your forehead on its shoulder. the sun beating down on the back of your neck, its fur smelling warm and strangely real.

“we’re done being enemies now, huh? i don’t really know what you tried to teach me last time.”

the dog does nothing. you sigh.

“i am so ready to die,” you say. the words sharp in your chest. “and you’re not going to help me out, are you?”

it starts to pant, looking down at the pool. you squint: at the bottom of the six-foot end is a vaguely human-shaped hole, dark and glimmering, cut out to your size.

the dog looks at it, at you. then says in sana’s voice, “you dug it yourself.”

oh.

you are exhausted to the bone.

“i get it,” you say, climbing to your feet. the sun is still shining, and the grave is pulling you in like a magnet. “i don’t need your help anyway.”

///

“depression,” the doctor announces, scribbling something on her clipboard. “could be seasonal affective. but manic, more likely.”

you snap to attention.

“it’s winter?” she asks, surprised.

sana looks like she’s about to cry.

“is she grieving?”

“no,” sana says. her face is bright with anger, body stiff, hands curled into fists at her side. “i don’t think so. she won’t tell me.”

“it’s a possibility. i’ll give you the number of a few therapists, see what they can do, if they think medication, is a good idea.”

“thank you,” your mother says. you try to look at her, but your vision is swimming. you reach out, to grab sana’s hand — and for this one brief second, your heart starts to work again. but then sana’s phone lights up with taehyung’s number, vibrating, a heart next to her name, and you drop it, and the whole thing starts all fucking over again.

///

you’re flat on your back. the dog is sitting on your chest, heavier than it looks, paws resting against your neck. looking down at you, as impenetrable as ever.

“i hate you,” you say, feeling strangely peaceful. the dog blinks. above you, its head eclipses part of the sun, outlined in pouring gold, backlit. you stroke a hand down its chest. the fur is soft, and its breathing measured. blood is oozing, slowly, slowly, out of the puncture wounds in your chest. claw marks. but accidental.

“i know i’m stupid,” you continue. “but you’re not making it any easier.”

you tilt your head backward, off the edge of the patio. birds chirping. the hole in the pool, tantalizingly empty.

///

“i keep having these dreams about you.”

sana stares at you, stunned. she’s been over for hours, and these are the first words you’ve said: hoarse, calm, detached.

“you’re a dog,” you continue. “brindle. i’ve had it three times and it gets closer every time it happens. it talks in your voice. it killed me the first time. and after that i just kept killing myself. don’t worry,” you add, seeing the stricken look on sana’s face.

“i love you,” sana says softly.

“sana, i am so far gone,” you say, your voice breaking, and sana’s hands are shaking when she leans over and pulls you into a hug so tight and so urgent it hurts. her whole body is radiating a feverish warmth, and you suffocate in her hair as sana sobs into your shoulder, saying “i love you, saying “me too”, saying — when she pulls away, jaw set and face flushed, “we can come together.”

you swallow: “i don’t know if i can,” you respond, helpless, and sana just says, “do it for me.”

so of course, you do.

///

it takes so long. god, it takes so long.

but you do it.

for sana. with sana. six months later, a song comes on in your car that you used to love, and you start to sing along like you haven’t in forever, and it’s just such a moment that sana bursts out laughing, practically exploding with happiness, so hard that the two of you have to pull the truck over. it’s always hard. it always will be. but something is working again that didn’t used to.

at least, it does for a while.

on a friday in eleventh grade, sana gets drunk and kisses you, and for a moment, you feel the flight of hope in your chest — but sana leans back, laughs it off, and says she got a head start on the phase that’s supposed to happen in college.

and that’s all she says.

and oh, man. that fucking burns.

you leave. instantly. sana is crossfaded and whines as you crawl out the window, but you pay no attention. you leave and leave and leave. it feels like something coming out of a crawlspace coming out of a crawlspace, coming out of you, blowing out the door. your vision is swimming with so many tears you trip three times on the way home. sana calls you and calls you and you don’t pick up.

fucking unbelievable. your apartment is empty. it’s ninth grade all over again. it hurts worse this time, you think, slamming the door shut behind you, because it was so much closer.

sana said “i love you” the way out. high as shit but really meaning it. you could see it in her eyes.

so maybe tomorrow will be better. maybe. if you get one.

///

three sleeping pills but it’s only dusk. even though it was 1 am when you came home. somehow, this dream is clearer than all the others, even though the medicine that’s supposed to blunt your nightmares.

the greek house, sunset, colder than last time, all the white walls cut with dark shadows and fading yellow light. the wind existing, but barely. your hair is wet and starchy when you run a hand through it, and everything is the same as it was two years ago, the drying grass, the pool, the brick floors. the same shivering sequoia on the right. no dog.

you get up and pad down the stairs, barefoot, the poinsettias still in bloom. in the yard, there’s still no dog. the whole world is silent. there are no other houses, you realize, outside your vine-draped fence.

unperturbed, you open the sliding door for the first time. inside is a long dining table, couches lined with swirls of patterned blankets, a tv that won’t turn on. the floorboards creak no matter where you step. you continue through an empty kitchen and three doors to the hallway, where there’s a spiral staircase and a glass-walled garden. there are bedrooms and bathrooms on the right, too many to count, but you’re not really interested.

instead, you open the front door. outside: a dirty driveway, a swatch of grass, the chain-link fence. it’s getting colder by the second.

the dog is waiting for you. sitting still. its mouth closed for once. eyes glinting.

you step toward it, run your fingers along the top of its head, but it darts away toward the opening on the driveway, and you follow.

on the other side of the fence: sana and taehyung, hand in hand.

there is no gate.

you look at the dog, and something in your chest snaps into place.

“i fucking knew it,” you say.

it shrugs. sana looks over at her, confused, concerned, then at taehyung, who has the same perplexed expression. you drop to your knees and stare the dog right in the face, an uncontrollable anger vibrating in your fingertips.

“i knew it,” you repeat, giggling hysterically, and then the dog tilts its head and apologizes, in that strange, sad voice that you only now realize is your own, before it lunges, and you let it.

///

afterwards, there is no waking up.

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice sana x reader #twice sana imagines #minatozaki sana x reader #minatozaki sana imagines #sana x reader #sana imagines #girl group imagines #gxg imagines #kpop #twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana #girl group #gxg

[aurumacadicus]

More serial killer Bucky I guess. 😒 Tw: blood and gore and self harm and depression and suicidal thoughts and beloveds this man is a serial killer. This is past revenge he gets too much pleasure out of it. He chooses not to hurt Tony much but that’s an exception not the rule. He once tried to strangle Steve for getting in his way and Steve almost broke his neck in response these men went to sleep and woke up WRONG. They are not nice people.

Also I’m saying this so no one gets on my ass: The illnesses Bucky mentions are in quotations because until he actually researches them, Bucky thinks they’re fake. They didn’t have that shit back before he fell from the train and he is ASTOUNDED to know that he and Steve probably have some form of PTSD. But that’s future Bucky’s problem. He’s got Hydra to kill.

Watch out for under the cut.

—

“You need to go check on Tony,” Steve says. “I’ve got too many enemies on my tail. I can’t go. He’s not answering his phone.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it back out. “I’m on my own job.”

“He’s not answering his phone and I can’t get to him,” Steve says flatly. “If he’s dead when I get back, that’s your fucking problem.” He hangs up before Bucky can say anything in response. The dial tone sounds judgmental.

Bucky looks at his phone for a moment, sighing, then crushes the Hydra goon’s throat in his metal fist, not caring about the blood splattering over him. He would have preferred to draw it out, but he hadn’t started his homicidal bender just to watch the kid who got him out of it die. His phone rings again. He answers it.

“I told him you killed his parents, by the way,” Steve says, voice clipped. “So he might try to shoot you. I don’t know,” he adds, sounding frustrated. “He might hand the gun to you to finish the job, too. He’s taking this medicine. I think sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t.” He sighs angrily. “I kinda thought they’d be able to fix this by now. The human body is a mistake. Have you heard of AIM?”

"No," Bucky says simply. He’s been hyper-focused on Hydra.

“Fucking piece of shit future things were supposed to be better without me--” Steve says, and then there’s the sound of shooting, and then he hangs up again.

Bucky considers looking into AIM, then decides he can deal with them if and when he runs out of Nazis to kill.

Tony’s front door is unlocked. It irritates him. Most people are scared off by locked doors, go looking for easier targets then. A locked door would at least buy someone time to protect themselves if the invader was intent on getting in.

“Are you here to kill me?” Tony asks where he’s sprawled out on the couch. “Finish the Stark family off forever?” His head lolls forward, and he blinks at him slowly, bruises under his eyes, greasy hair sticking to his damp forehead.

Bucky walks over to grab him by the front of the shirt with his metal hand. Tony doesn’t stand up when he tugs on it, so he shrugs, dragging him over to where he assumes the bedroom is. That seems to warrant a reaction, apparently, because he scrabbles uselessly with his grip. He makes his way through the bedroom to the bathroom.

“What is this?” Tony finally asks. “Is this a prosthetic? Why is it made out of metal?”

“To torture me,” Bucky answers. It could be a joke. It mostly isn’t. He opens the shower door and thrusts Tony inside. He means to draw his hand back, but Tony had a grip on him, so he slides a few inches before Bucky stops. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gonna kill me to stay gross a little longer,” Tony huffs, twisting his arm this way and that. “This is sloppy. They really were trying to torture you, huh?”

“Chronic pain makes you tired. When you’re tired, you’re easy to control,” Bucky says. He sounds like he’s repeating it. He doesn’t know where he’s heard it before. One of the Hydra scientists, probably. It makes sense.

Tony’s face twitches, but whatever was there, it’s gone before Bucky can parse it. “I could do better,” he says, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

“You can’t even bathe yourself regularly,” Bucky says flatly. “Melding metal with a nervous system? Please.”

Tony jerks his head up to glare at him, and it’s the most emotion he’s seen on his face. “Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it at him, and Bucky ducks on instinct. He stoops to pick it up and wonders why, remembers someone yelling at a bunch of little girls to pick their clothes up after they bathe. It sounds like his voice, maybe. He decides not to think about it. It wouldn’t help. He takes a moment to examine Tony’s arms. All he sees is the faded pink lines, he notices with approval. The scars will probably always be visible, but at least it doesn’t look like he’s got any new marks.

Tony throws his pants at him. He catches them and can’t help but think he aimed them at his head on purpose. His aim isn’t very good. But then, his everything isn’t very good right now. His ribs are too visible. He could use a few good meals.

Tony shoves his boxers down, and Bucky can’t help the noise he makes when he sees the wounds inside of his thighs. Razor marks in two rows from mid thigh up to the crease almost up to where thigh met pelvis.

Bucky has his flesh hand around Tony’s throat before he even realizes, shoving him up against the tiles with a snarl. He feels Tony’s throat work beneath his hand, but there’s no pleasure in it--there’s no fear in Tony’s wide eyes, no anxiety. He doesn’t even struggle. Bucky drops him, disgusted, and Tony drops to the floor with a gasp as he spits, “You’d be happy if I killed you, wouldn’t you?”

Tony clutches at his throat, as he continues sucking in air, but he doesn’t answer, staring up at him from under his lashes with what might be disappointment, if Bucky was generous, except that he mostly looks like he feels nothing at all.

It’s wrong. People shouldn’t want to... What had Steve said? Medicine. Tony was sick. Something was making him feel like this.

“Shower,” Bucky tells him sharply, catches sight of the razor on the shower shelf, and reaches in to snatch it.

Tony looks like he wants to complain, but thinks better of it in response to Bucky’s sharp glare.

Bucky waits for the shower to start before he goes through the bathroom cupboards and drawers, then out into the bedroom. He finds a couple more razors. Takes those too. Finds a couple orange bottles and examines them. Googles the names to figure out what they are. Doesn’t understand any of the words, really.

“What’s serotonin?” Bucky asks when Tony comes out of the bathroom, and Tony lets out a startled bark of laughter. “They didn’t have that when I was in the army,” he continues defensively, and Tony laughs harder.

Tony gets dressed, and Bucky googles what the fuck a dopamine is. Doesn’t care that Tony’s getting close until his hands are on his metal wrist. “This really is garbage,” he huffs, unimpressed. “I know I could do better.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Bucky says flatly. “You’re still trying to die. You don’t even lock your door.” He slants Tony a sharp look. “Is that because you’re hoping someone will come in and hurt you?”

“Maybe, but so far it’s just been your contrarian ass,” Tony grumbles. “Saved my life twice even though you regularly kill people. Even my own parents. So unfair.”

Bucky turns his judgmental slant to a full-on glare, outraged. Tony doesn’t even notice, making him turn his arm so he can examine the elbow joints in motion. “Do you have any self-preservation in that emaciated body of yours?”

“Celebrities are supposed to be thin,” Tony scoffs.

“I don’t know what that means,” Bucky tells him, unimpressed, and then jerks his arm free and stands. “Answer your fucking phone.”

“I was mugged,” Tony says with a blase shrug, and then snaps, “Don’t fucking choke me if you’re not gonna finish the job,” when Bucky reaches out for him again.

Bucky pauses to consider this. Maybe a good slap would help?

Tony tips his head back to look up at him, purring, “Or unless you’re gonna finish the job, if you know what I mean. I like when my daddy chokes me while I’m riding him.”

“Gross. I knew your dad,” Bucky says. Remembers the way Howard looked up at him, blood dripping down his face, and asked, “Sergeant Barnes?” before he beat him to death. “Don’t call me that. You’re twelve.”

“I’m twenty-two,” Tony exclaims, offended.

It's the most emotion Bucky has seen on him, even more than in the bathroom. “Answer your fucking phone,” he says, instead of ‘sounds fake’ or ‘no way.’ “I had to leave in the middle of a job. If I have to do that again, I’ll be very angry.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Tony says, and Bucky has to credit him for being honest.

“Maybe you can fix my arm,” Bucky says, instead of telling him he’s annoying. “If you live long enough.”

Tony’s eyes immediately go to his arm again. Speculative. Interested.

Bucky leaves. Takes a few days to do a deep dive on “depression” and “bipolar” and “anxiety” and wonders when they started existing outside of shell shock, except apparently that isn’t a thing anymore. Takes another few days to research the medication he’d found and texts Steve that he doesn’t think what Tony’s taking is helpful. Suggests different options.

The only response he gets is “why is Tony taking my blood????” and “WHY IS TONY DRAWING ARMS??????? ARE YOU GETTING A NEW ARM????? I’m gonna tell him to put a smiley face on where the star is now.”

#ideas #winteriron #tw: everything

[blackjackkent]

So I lied - I thought the Head Banker was working with Minsc, but the Head Banker was actually involved in Nine-Fingers' plot to kill him.

Because when we reach the group, they're discussing the success of their plot. D:

"It's still moving," one of the human thieves is saying nervously, as Hector and his companions draw within earshot. Her eyes are on a large chest standing next to the group of thieves, which is squirming in a very un-chest-like fashion.

Hector feels his skin crawl involuntarily. He has seen that motion before, back in Grymforge and again in Ketheric Thorm's chambers in Moonrise. The thieves have brought a mimic.

And it has just eaten.

"Hush your fussing," the Head Banker says casually, pulling a pipe from his pocket and lighting it with a quick burst of fire from the tip of his thumb. "Nine-Fingers had this one made especially - that little mouthful will barely slow it down."

"But the stories..." the younger thief quavers.

Glitterbeard laughs sharply. "Stories," he says, waving a hand disdainfully. "Tall tales and big names, lad. Don't let them fool you. Elminster the archmage. Drizzt the drow exile. Heroes have power, aye - but not half so much as we do." He draws a long puff of the pipe, clearly considering himself to be producing lines of deepest wisdom. "A little coin into the right purse. A soft word in the right ear. It's not glory that spins these planes, lad. It's gold."

He waits until the young man nods understanding, and then taps some ash out of his pipe. "See? Now--"

He is cut off by an abrupt spasm and a low, groaning noise from the mimic. It has begun to squirm aggressively, as if suffering from some sort of acute indigestion. There is half a second in which all three thieves have time to feel a surge of dread as they realize something is wrong.

And then a fist erupts from inside the mimic's body.

The mimic lets out a piercing, agonized squealing noise that splits the air like a knife. The dwarf darts back with a sharp curse as a wave of blood bursts across the floor from within the creature's bulk.

"Moradin's cracked clay--!"

The arm reaches out, grasps the mimic by its eye and wrenches sharply.

The creature writhes over onto its side with pain, pouring blood and spasming in all directions. Its enormous tongue lolls out as its mouth cracks open, and an enormous humanoid form begins to wrestle its way from inside.

Not bothering to hide their terror now, the thieves backpedal rapidly, eyes widening, as Minsc of Rashemen emerges with a roar into the flickering torchlight, bathed in blood and saliva and mouth curled with a berserker's mad smirk.

((THERE HE IS! MY BOYYYYYYY! \o/ ))

"There is no gold in here!" he bellows, towering over his would-be killers.

"If there is one thing Minsc hates more than beasts with bad breath--" The mimic gives a final death-rattling spasm, and Minsc pauses, leans down to lift it by the tongue and hurl it off to the side of the room.

Then he turns his glare back upon the dwarf, as if nothing happened.

"It is those who are tricksome with the truth." He draws back, and his eyes brighten with a glee, almost joyful, that stands in counterpoint to the violence of his bearing.

"And turnips!" he adds brightly.

The brightness fades as quickly as it came. "But you are no turnip! Let that be of comfort in your final moments." His fists clench, the enormous muscles of his arms bulging dramatically.

At Hector's side, Jaheira stirs, and forces a smile onto her face.

"Meet Minsc," she says with a tight laugh. "He still seems very much himself to me."

At his other elbow, Karlach has started to vibrate with that sort of twitching energy that takes her over when something has greatly excited her. A much more sincere smile is on her face, too.

"Is that... the Beloved Ranger?" she says eagerly. "Jaheira is gonna burst! I'm gonna burst! Oh my gods-- Minsc!"

Hector deeply wishes that he could just enjoy Karlach's excitement as he always does, or indulge himself in Jaheira's obvious feeling of hope that they have simply been misled by Nine-Fingers, that nothing is wrong with Minsc after all. But Nine-Fingers' story had the ring of truth to it - at least to him, who has no ties to Minsc and is looking at things as objectively as he can.

"Wait, Jaheira," he mutters. "He doesn't seem in any state to listen."

"He will listen to me," Jaheira says firmly.

But she is not given time to speak - because her own voice rings out from the other end of the hall.

"Enough play, Stone Lord!"

Jaheira goes very still, hearing the voice not from her own mouth. "What in the howling hells...?"

But Hector can guess, and he feels dread start to churn in his stomach as a dark form sizzles from shadow into being beyond the deepest vault door.

Orin, or something like her, bearing Jaheira's face, steps forward into the light and smiles coolly. "Nine-Fingers set a poor trap, little banker," she tells Glitterbeard mockingly. "Let the Absolute's faithful show you how it is done."

More shadows turning into the form of cultists begin to shiver into view on all sides of the room. All of them are smiling with a note of insanity, and all of them have their blades drawn.

"Now come, Stone Lord," the false Jaheira says, gesturing to Minsc. "We have the gold - and the Absolute has need of it elsewhere."

Minsc lets out a low, rumbling grunt, shrugs and moves to stand at her side. "As you say, Jaheira," he mutters.

Darkness swirls around them both - the familiar strange shadow of a mind flayer teleporter. And then they are gone.

"Stlarning shapechangers!" the true Jaheira snaps. Rage is written in every line of her face - but Hector can see the fear under it too. Fear for Minsc, and fear for herself. Hector understands that sense of violation she is feeling; he has felt it himself as Orin has played her games with them as the pieces. He wishes he had any word of comfort to offer - but he barely knows how to handle it himself.

"Enough," she mutters hoarsely, struggling for control. "Let us deal with these cultists - then find out where they are nesting."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #AHHHHHHHH MY BOY THERE HE IS! #HE'S SO BIG AND HE'S VOICED BY MATT MERCER AND HE IS STILL COMPLETELY UNHINGED AND I LOVE HIM #but also holy shit (of course) (again) #all right let's clean these cultists up so we can go after him AGAIN

[mellohd]

Vampire Empire COF/AOM Update

ohhhh godd i can't sleep, I keep thinking about that Vampire Empire cof/aom anamatic im trying to make. I realized I lost a lot of motivation before because I was going 100% semi rendered drawings without a concrete plan for what I wanted to do and that my krita was actually killing itself at so many drawings on one canvas.

so ive started storyboarding, but attached to music and actual frames. so its really like I'm doing the whole thing, but in shitty doodles and I've made it a little further than my previous attempt. and I've moved the animation process to another animation program.

im around the part where its like "i see you there rejecting all your earthly prowess" ( I think I don't remember the exact lines) and I have the PERFECT literally PERFECT idea for how the rest of this is going to go and how it all can fit into ANOTHER fic I want to write centered around David. I can literally imagine perfectly what I'm going to draw for the rest of the scene and it snowballed to the rest of the anamatic and its taking soooo SO much restraint from just going over and finishing the storyboard cause like I want to wake up at a decent time for once.

BUT EVERYTIME I CLOSE MY EYES THE REST OF THE SONG PLAYS IN MY HEAD ALONG WITH WHAT I WANT THE REST OF THE ANAMATIC TO LOOK LIKE AND like I'm literally yelling into my pillow, these homos wont let me sleep 😭

im kinda rotating this fic centered around david based off of my last fic I made where it takes place on a day he isn't visiting simon/isolating(probably takes place before, or after depending on if I stick with the direction I'm going for this stupid animatic). I have a very distinct idea of the topics I want to tackle outside of my journal (loll), the feel, and a firm visual of like what his surroundings are I just have to kick my brain into action because for some reason when I want to do things I simply can not. Id share more but I haven't made the 7 paragraph word vomit of pure nonsense I write in a pure maniacal haze prior to writing the actual fic so I don't have a lot to share that just wouldn't be trauma dumping

anyways i lliterally love you if you actually read through all that, I almost just described in like full detail what I was gonna draw but then I was like spoilers so I ranted a little bit about David fic instead. friendly reminder my askbox is open to anything :3 (not anything anything, please don't send me pikachu nsfw again be reasonable 😭)

#cof #cry of fear #aom #afraid of monsters #tangent #fanfic #fanfiction #animatic #writing #i really needed to make a long tangent #i think i would have actually exploded #from excitement or frustration idk #im sorry chat

[blorbologist]

Could I get a Daughters or Dolls with the Briarwoods?

(this entire au concept Fascinates me)

I hope you're ready for something Fucked Up! :D

Sylas dabs at his mouth with a white kerchief. The initials are blotted out by blood. There’s maybe the rib of a J, the broken limbs of an M. The chest of an R? 

He tosses it, ruined, to the side and begins to busy himself with Delilah’s corset. 

“Mmm,” she sighs. Sylas feels the artery gurgle against the scab forming on her wrist, her wrist on his neck, her arms looped around his neck, less arms and more a neat noose of pulsing blood. Capillaries, veins, pooling and drawing back. 

He chuckles against her throat. “You’re always in a mood, after,” Sylas murmurs.

“What can I say? It does me good to see you alive, love.” She says love like she says decomposition like she says Sylas like she doesn’t say Vecna. 

“There might be something to it - to me,” continues Delilah, brown eyes stealing something violet from the evening sky. One of her many magic tricks. “The fact it was my pact with Vecna that brought you to this life? Or - hm. I do like the hypothesis that it’s the long-term necromantic magics-”

Sylas dutifully hums and purrs as his wife dabbles in her speculation. Offers himself, as usual, as her test subject. Pry him open, cut him apart, take his rib and make him again. He wouldn’t mind. She would, is the trouble, and so she takes out her frustration on something. Things that would not be missed, before. Now anything that takes her fancy. Almost. 

She’s moved on from the necromancy-vampirism interactions to something like livestock breeding. “There should be a good source of magic to the girl, is the thing. These families have hardly had any outcrossing, bred back to eachother for generations at such a pulsepoint of the leylines. And that tree, too, and the ziggurat.”

He’s moved on from her corset (gone) to her dress (not yet, only because she would be cross if he tore it. He wants to.). “And yet not a lick of magic in the main line, or the offshoots! No, it’s this baseborn little thing that is tapped in.”

Tapped, tapped. Tap, tap, her fingers on his chest. “So much potential, the both of them. I could make them both. Make them, Sylas. Build them into something grand.” Delilah’s face twists into a sneer, twists into his neck. The damn buttons are giving him trouble. Fucking claws. “Little rats don’t appreciate any of my work.”

“Darling,” soothes Sylas, “you killed the pup’s family.”

She frowns at him, indignant. “Not the other one’s - not dear Matilda’s. She I have saved from slaving in the fields, wasting resources, wasting potential, wasting. Besides - it’s a favor, being rid of the heirs. Cassandra would have been wed to some middling lord, some cousin, and bred like a show mare. She will do better with me. With us.”

“They will,” he agrees. Perhaps it does not make much sense to him, how the girls might appreciate them. But he has been wrong about many things before - the Assembly, the Empire, death. Delilah has always been right.

Almost.

Later, after. Sylas makes himself into mist to drift from her grasp. He cannot bear to part with her while made of flesh. The form reduces his hunger, too, from a spitting suffocation to a dry heave to every movement. Less wet. 

She does not suffice. If she were to, he would kill her, and he can’t. 

And so he finds himself a nice young man, counts his ribs beneath his thumb, and fancies him that half-elf he got but a taste of before sinking his teeth into that dusky throat and tearing a cup of flesh from which to drink deep.

All the blood tastes the same as hers, and for that sin it is disgusting. 

(He sees the cupbearer the next day. Head lolling, held by few tendons, rot already taking to him greedily. Walking.)

#tlovm #critical role #tlovm fanfic #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfic #delilah briarwood #sylas briarwood #the briarwoods #cass and matilda (laudna) are both mentioned - in this AU Delilah takes on Laudna as an apprentice #its Fucked Up and will mostly be from the girls' POV but MAN. MAN. fucking love the briarwoods #my writing #ask game

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟏

Pairings: Kirk/Lars, James/Dave

Tw: torture, murder, blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, drugging, cannibalism

You can also read it here

Note: please let me know what you think!!

James groans, awareness filling his senses as his head violently pulses, his whole body feeling stiff and sore.

He automatically pulls at the restraints, almost forgetting they’re there, and reality slowly starts to rekindle.

Dave.

The rush of emotions that sweeps over him would almost make him sob if he could do anything but moan at the insanely painful thrumming in his head, like it’s being cleaved in two, jackhammer slicing into the meat of his brain.

He smacks his dry lips, finally getting the strength to heave his eyes open. Theres no one in his immediate vicinity, and he sighs, crumples back a little into the chair. He twists his head marginally to the side, sees familiar red hair, only now Dave’s eyes are closed, no longer staring at him. James swallows, takes in the sickly blue pallor of Dave’s skin.

His vision is slightly blurred, but he can still make out Dave’s face, soft and bruised under the low light.

James just wishes he could’ve told him he loved him one last time. He’d do anything to have him back.

Anger swarms him then, trails up the inside of his wrists and over his shoulders, has his jaw setting despite the pain.

He carefully fiddles around with the knot on the rope around his wrists, feels it loosen when he pries his fingers between the two strands. He knows he can get out of this. He has to.

He thinks back to his phone, he’s sure he left it in his pocket, but when he looks down, there’s no telltale imprint on his thighs, nor is it sticking out of his back pocket when he skims his fingers over the waistband.

“Looking for this?”

James lolls his head up slowly, squints enough to make out Kirk sat in the corner behind a computer. He’s holding James’s phone up, waving it slightly. The screen’s cracked, shattered and splintered.

Shit. Well there goes that plan.

“Someone kept calling,” Kirk says, throwing the phone onto the table. “I hope you’ve not got anyone looking for you.”

James grits his teeth, continues to try and undo the restraints around his wrists, feeling the rope starting to loosen with every pull at the knot.

“You bet your ass I have,” James spits, though it doesn’t sound very intimidating when he can hardly keep his head up. “You’re not gonna get away with this.”

Kirk shrugs, sitting back, clicking on the computer keyboard, attention drawing to the screen.

James tugs on the ropes but they’re still too tight. He swears under his breath, goes back to messing with the knot.

“Why do you do this?” he says, tries not to let Kirk know what he’s doing.

Kirk halts, eyes tracking up to look at James.

Kirk doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the question hangs over them like a pool tarp, suffocating and hard to brush aside.

“Money, mostly,” Kirk says finally, sitting back in his chair. “And it’s fun.”

“Sick bastard,” James sneers, his head making his vision hazy and he has to really concentrate to make out Kirk in front of him. “I never should’ve been friends with you.”

Kirk has the audacity to look hurt, getting up from his seat. James finally undoes the ropes but he doesn’t let them fall, doesn’t let Kirk know what he’s up to.

“You were never meant to be involved with this,” Kirk says, walking over to him. “This wasn’t meant to happen.”

As soon as Kirk’s in range, James strikes.

It must be adrenaline that’s getting him to move so quickly, but he stands, driving his fist into the sharpness of Kirk’s cheekbone.

Kirk stumbles back with a shout, and James uses the opportunity to grab a knife from the table. Kirk tries to tackle him but James is too quick, sending his right hook into Kirk’s jaw.

Before Kirk can fall, James grabs him, pulling him against himself as he places the knife against Kirk’s throat.

He has no intention of actually killing him, he can’t do that, but he wants leverage if he’s going to get out of this.

He can hear someone moving about upstairs, and he knows any minute Lars will be back down.

Kirk squirms but James digs the knife in, drawing blood, waiting for his chance to escape.

— —

Lars’s footsteps are loud, piercing the air as he descends the stairs.

Kirk struggles but James holds onto him tight, an arm hugged tight around his waist as the blade sits snug under the dip of his Adam’s apple. The hilt is smooth in his grip, cool against his sweaty palm.

Lars rounds the corner, a look of amusement shrouding his face, and the air goes cold.

“What are you doing?” Lars asks, a smile splitting his face, almost like this is funny.

“Let me go,” James says, voice gravelly as he holds onto Kirk to keep himself from swaying. The adrenaline is starting to fade and it’s leaving him lightheaded and weak.

“Let me go and I won’t hurt him.”

Kirk’s not moving anymore, gaze locked solely on Lars. Lars looks between them for a minute before shrugging.

“Kill him. See if I care.”

What?

That’s not what James was expecting. Does no one mean anything to Lars, not even his boyfriend?

“What?” Kirk croaks, shaking slightly in James’s grip. He obviously can’t believe it either, can’t believe his partner is trading him in.

James grits his teeth, presses the knife into Kirk’s throat hard enough to pierce the skin, blood dripping down his neck slowly.

“I’ll do it,” James warns, adjusting his stance, leaning a little on Kirk to try and keep himself upright.

Lars yawns, crossing his arms, looking bored.

“Do it.”

Kirk’s shaking his head, tears starting to run down his face as James keeps the knife high on his throat.

“Lars, you don’t mean that,” Kirk tries, voice raw and guttural, sobbing in James’s grip.

Lars rolls his eyes, steps forwards.

“Do it,” he shouts, eyes wild, egging James on. But James doesn’t know what to do. He can’t kill Kirk. Can he?

Before he can make up his mind, Lars rolls his eyes before blindingly reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a small gun before firing it.

The pain is instant, fire crawling up from James’s shoulder into his neck, and he cries out, dropping the knife. Without Kirk for support he’s thrown off kilter and he pivots, only to fall backwards, back hitting the wall as his vision blurs.

There’s wetness spreading over his shoulder, down his chest, and his heart is loud in his ears, his breath staccato and heavy.

He looks up, squints.

Lars is beckoning Kirk into his arms.

I didn’t mean it, he says. Of course I didn’t mean it, he says.

Kirk just continues to cry, let’s Lars pull him into a hug.

White hot pain shoots through James’s shoulder, and he cries out, hand flying upwards, hovering over the afflicted area.

His vision swims but he lolls his head to the side, sees his tshirt start to turn a deep brown colour as blood rushes from his shoulder.

“Please,” he says, the words bubbling up from his throat, like a simmering pot. “Please.” He just wants to go home. He just wants to go home and pretend this never happened.

Lars tuts, strokes a hand over Kirk’s head before reaching down to get the knife James discarded.

He presses it in Kirk’s hand, dropping a kiss to his snivelling lover’s head.

“Do it,” he says, thumbing away the tears from Kirk’s cheeks.

Kirk doesn’t answer, but he turns away from Lars, looks down at James.

James just looks up blearily, squinting under the low light, Kirk now towering in his view.

The knife glints, James flinches, presses himself flat against the wall, knees up to his chest.

He can’t die like this. This isn’t fair.

He spares a glance over at Dave one last time, takes in the beautiful angle of his jaw, dark lashes against pale skin, blue lips.

A tear rolls down his cheek but he doesn’t have the strength to wipe it away.

This is it. He’s going to die.

All his adrenaline is gone and he’s just left in a heap, pain making his vision smudged and concentration fail, but he can see Kirk’s white knuckled grip around the knife as he swings.

James closes his eyes, lets his head hit the wall, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

He doesn’t want to die. He wants to say goodbye to his family.

He thinks about being another nameless body in Lars’s backyard. He wonders if they’ll bury him next to Dave. At least he’d like that. At least they’d be able to hold each other for eternity.

He takes one last shuddering breath and lets the inevitable happen.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #die dead enough #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #kirk hammett/lars ulrich #kirk hammett #lars ulrich #james hetfield x dave mustaine #james hetfield/dave mustaine #james hetfield #dave mustaine #megadeth #metallica fic

[astaldis]

That will fill you with horror

Chapter 4/5 of “You’d be wise to beware”

Prompts: Asphyxiation, Surgery, Allergic reaction, Short of breath, Loss of consciousness, Vomiting, Field medicine, Wicked wings, Vicious venom, Puncture wound

Fandom: The Witcher

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier, Cahir

Rating: Mature

“Geralt!” Jaskier and Cahir shout almost simultaneously, shocked to see their friend go down. The huge, winged beast must have got him somehow. They both run toward him as fast as they can. Hopefully, it is nothing serious, nothing a Witcher potion and perhaps the one or other bandage cannot fix.

Cahir is first to reach him. Lying supine, Geralt looks ghastly pale underneath all the blood, but his eyes are open and he is breathing. Good. Cahir kneels down by his comrade’s side.

“Geralt, what’s wrong?" he asks, scanning his friend’s body for visible injuries that might have caused his collapse. However, with all the monster blood on him, it is difficult to tell if he is injured and bleeding himself. As far as he can see, there are no obvious tears in his shirt or pants, or gaping wounds.

“Got me with its tail, left shoulder,” Geralt grunts through gritted teeth.

“Venom?”

Geralt grunts again. It sounds like a yes. Fuck. Cahir has a closer look at the beast. It is huge. Definitely bigger than the wyvern he killed just a few days ago. At first glance it looks quite similar to the black ornithosaur. A wide open, menacing maw full of sharp white, conical teeth in a narrow, triangular head, the purplish forked tongue lolling onto the blood-covered stone. It also has a long, snake-like neck and enormous, bat-like wings. But the wings’ membrane as well as the beast’s scales are of a very light, slate blue colour, not so much different from the surrounding rocks. They reflect the sunlight so strongly, the creature's contours are blurry and it is hardly possible to look at it for longer than a few moments without feeling blinded. Cahir blinks. The tail, what does its tail look like? He forces himself to glance at the dead monster again, squinting and shading his eyes with one hand. The tail does not end in the wyvern-typical trident but bears one single, stiletto-like sting protruding from a bulbous structure. A venom bladder? Like in the tail of a scorpion? Cahir has never seen anything like it in the books about dragons and other draconids. Is it something new that has arrived to the continent via the monoliths? Damn it. Hopefully, it is not lethal, at least not for a Witcher.

“Which potions do you need?” he asks Geralt. Of course, it is better to ingest the elixirs before a fight, but many can also be used as healing potions in case of an injury.

"Golden Oriole," the Witcher pants, "and Lion's Mane. In the holster."

Cahir has not studied Witcher potions as much as monsters since he is not a real Witcher and would die if he took any of them, but from what he knows about the requested potions, they make sense. Lion's Mane works as a general pain killer while Golden Oriole is an elixir used by Witchers and mages to both prevent and treat poisoning from many sources, such as corpse-venom from a graveir, common snake and spider venoms, the venom of wyverns, basilisks and of numerous other monsters. He scans through the several potions vials strapped to Geralt's thigh. The flask with the Golden Oriole is easy to recognise by the potion's golden colour. Another one filled with a whitish liquid sports a lion's head on the stopper. Must be the Lion's Mane. Cahir takes both vials out of the black leather holster and, while Jaskier supports Geralt's head, holds them to the Witcher's pale lips, one after the other. Grimacing, Geralt downs the content of the Lion's Mane and half of the Golden Oriole. Then he lies back down with a groan.

"I'll have a look at your shoulder now," Cahir warns and carefully turns his friend over a little. "Jaskier, hold him like this."

While the bard keeps Geralt in position, Cahir draws a dagger from his belt and cuts open his friend's blood-soaked shirt at the back of the left shoulder. There is a small puncture wound in the muscle directly below the glenohumeral joint. The tissue around it is puffy and irritated, however, besides this, the injury looks pretty harmless. Too bad it obviously is not, otherwise Geralt would not have dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Cahir pours the rest of the Golden Oriole over the wound. There is a sizzling sound and a yellowish vapour rises from the injured spot. Geralt moans, biting his lips. After only a minute, the wound looks much improved, though. It does not even need a bandage as the ugly hole in the skin has closed up almost completely. Gently, Jaskier lets Geralt slide back onto the rocky ground, breathing a sigh of relief. The potions seem to help. Not only has the wound healed surprisingly fast and nicely, but Geralt does not appear to be in as much pain as before. His jaws and fists are not clenched in agony anymore like when they found him. Still, something must be wrong. The white-haired Witcher is becoming increasingly short of breath and does not make any move to stand up. Not good.

“What else do we do?” Jaskier asks worriedly and takes his friend’s hand in his. It feels awfully cold and clammy. Fuck. Geralt does not look good at all despite the potions.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt rasps softly, struggling for air. He closes his eyes. “Should have - listened to you.”

“What are you talking about? Geralt?” Jaskier’s shakes his friend’s shoulder when he fails to react to the bard's question. “Geralt!” With effort, the Witcher opens his eyes again.

“Seems they do exist. Your monsters,” he gasps. “The flying drake—”

That will fill you with horror. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47067388/chapters/118846387

@mediwhumpmay​ 

@whumpay​ 

@witchermonstermayhem​

#mediwhumpmay #mediwhump #whumpay2023 #witchermonstermayhem2023 #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #jaskier x geralt #joey batey #eamon farren #henry cavill #witcher cahir #geralt whump #asphyxation #short of breath #allergic reaction #field medicine #loss of consciousness #vomiting #geraskier

[pkmntrainertrix]

MWEHEHEH!! Looks like this Halloween was a success after all!

[There is a link attached. It’s an archive of a livestream. Click on it?]

The video opens with the camera pointing at a guy. Without even saying anything, you can tell he sounds like an influencer. He seems to be standing at the edge of a forest.

“Alright viewers! Moderator and I are here live from the base of Reverse Mountain!” He speaks in a very animated way, full of energy and coated in a thick layer of excitement. When he says the name “Moderator” there’s a happy chirp that almost sounds like it’s coming from the camera.

“Hold onto your hats for this one folks, because the paranormal investigation we’re taking part of today is a strange one!” He gestures for the camera to follow him, and begins walking into the forest.

“Right! So a few years back, there was a report of a torn up campsite. Looked like some massive pokemon had torn through the place, but police never found out what it was. Nor did they figure out the people the campsite belonged to. It’s said that on a few nights of the year, whatever did that to those people roams these woods! And we’re going to find it.”

The air is silent, aside from the sound of the streamer’s idle chitchat and a slight breeze. There’s not a pokemon in sight as a light appears in the distance.

“… ‘turn around’ ‘look behind you’ oh is there something there?” The steamer reads his live chat and turns. Sure enough there’s a bright purple flame in the distance. He doesn’t say anything, but takes a step towards it. The flame goes out.

He laughs nervously.

“Eh, haha. Weird. But uh- maybe it’s trying to get us to come that way-“ He stops mid sentence and pales. There’s a worried chirp from behind the camera, and it moves closer to him.

“No Moderator. It’s fine. Just… did you hear that? It… sounded like a sob.” The camera shook like it was saying no.

“… right! Let’s keep going then! Some Litwick in the woods won’t scare me away!” He continues ahead. The camera follows hesitantly behind.

After a few minutes of walking, they stumble onto a campsite. There’s nothing but dying orange embers and torn supplies. A sleeping bag hangs halfway out of a huge gash in the tent.

“Wow. Real big thing most have come through here huh chat? What do you all think it is?… ‘Druddigon.’ I think it was an Urasring!’ ‘Clearly this is the work of a very angry Liepard’ Hah! Must have been one pissed off Liepard then…” He pauses for a second to think. Right as the streamer goes to say something, a loud cry cuts through the air. Both the camera and the influencer flinch.

“Okay, surely you all heard it this time right?? Right??” The camera quickly shook its head yes. He thought for a second.

“How- how about I leave it for a vote? Yeah, yeah. Good idea! Vote on if I should go see it or not!” The poll graphic is shown on screen. Almost instantly, the percent of people who want him to continue jumps way up. The streamer tries to act like it’s just a big joke and his fear is the punchline, but it’s clear there’s something out of his control going on here. The poll ends, and he sighs.

“Man you guys want to kill me huh? Alright. Cmon Moderator let’s get going.” The dead leaves crunch underfoot as the two slowly approach the source of the noise.

There’s a large… thing. Sitting in a clearing. It has long black fur around its neck and covering its eyes, blue scales for skin, long lanky arms and legs tipped with claws, and a strong jaw full of teeth. It’s crying. Long, painful breaths draw up and release as loud cries. The camera closely watches it for a minute, before turning to look at the streamer. He looks genuinely terrified. The monster in front of him scares him so much his body is shaking. Once again the camera approaches to try and comfort him.

“No, no! Moderator stop that! Keep away!” The creature’s head snaps up. A long, slimy tongue lolls out of its mouth. It jumps up, and bolts over. The streamer screams, throwing what looks to be an Ultraball at the monster. It catches the ball in its mouth and shatters it to pieces with one crunch, causing the influencer to scream and run towards the camera as the video abruptly ends.

#//i am not proofreading this I am so tired💗oh my god. #pokeblogging #rotumblr #pkmn irl #long post

[pikbro]

tell me about ur fnac oc I already love them

WAHOO YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM JUMPING FOR JOY

putting it under a read more bc i dont wanna clog peoples dashes with this long ass oc post LOLL

uhh ok so. her name is ivory (obviously) and shes from the fnac 2 era so shes lived in the gross ugly abandoned factory her whole life lol

her parents (cindy and blank) built her out of whatever they could find in the factory so shes kind of an amalgam of various parts from different generations of candys. thats not reflected very well in the way i draw her but trust me. it definitely was not something i thought of after i had already redesigned her

its also why shes missing an eye + the suit part(???) on one arm, they jsut couldnt find anything lmaoo. shes technically unfinished but shes Functional so whatever

shes also missing the suit part on her shins similar 2 withered blank so she covers that up with the leg warmer thingies i guess

i wish i wasnt too stupid to learn 3d modeling so i could better explain what i mean + make her real but alas. my brain is so tiny

also shes like. idk. almost as tall as blank maybe. abt the same height as the rat i guess

like assuming the thank u image is height accurate this is what i mean

shes a tad insecure abt her height bc she towers over like. every single other animatronic except for her dad LMAO

i like to imagine she was present during fnac 2 and she was jsut hiding on another floor or somethijng. secret ivory easter egg

that also means she burned along with her parents at the end of the game this is so sad

unsure if shes killed people. thatd be funny tho

i imagine shed be kinda scared of humans after being told abt what happened to blank in the first game. so idk

idk if i wanna make this littel fucker canon to her lore but i like their dynamic. so maybe. all i know rn is he jsut shows up outta nowhere and theyre somewhat close bc she sucks at socializing with literally anyone outside of immediate family

if its not obvious im jsut pulling stuff outta my ass + listing off whatever i can remember comign up with whilst walking around my house to music like an insane person

ivory is the result of 12 year old me liking the worst ship ever and then stealing someones oc so shes not meant to be taken that seriously. coherent character traits/lore/whatever is not my main priority LMAOO

anyways thajnk u for asking abt her and giving me an excuse to ramble abt my beloved creature bye

#i heart ivory from fnaf #i havent thought abt her relationship with her mom that much tbh #i think shed be closer with her dad just bc a good chunk of the parts shes made of were taken from the gen hes from. yknow #also he can relate 2 being fucked up and ugly /joke #im resisting the urge to make her transfem and/or sapphic im so normal #anyways ive been talking too long oops

[aestheticvoyage2022]

Day 129: Monday May 9, 2022 - “Classics”

I got Wm a couple new books to come home to from his trip to Dallas.  One, an oversized encyclopedia of dogs that he can explore and memorize all through his childhood and the other, an old classic, Corduroy.   I had remembered having this one as a kid.  The first of all the books of his that I remember having been mine too.   So tonight after dinner, they all gathered round to hear Dad’s telling of the old teddy bear that lost his button.  Now, I couldn’t have told you exactly what happened or what the stories was about - probably 35 years since I had heard the story told and seen its pictures.   But within a couple of pages it all came flashing back.  The escalator!  The night watchmen!  Getting his button fixed.  It was a classic and somewhere in there so many years ago I had committed those drawings into my brain.  I do remember this.

Someday I suppose maybe I’ll share with him Hemingway, Kerouac, or Heat-Moon and he’ll enjoy them just like me.   And until then, so many great books and stories await - of Dinosaurs and Giving Trees, and Wild Things.  He’ll start to read and explore both of book shelves and the words will start to be equal parts entertainment and education, tapping into the magic of a storyteller.

Song: Renee & Jeremy - Daydream Believer

Quote: “The most important thing we've learned, So far as children are concerned, Is never, NEVER, NEVER let Them near your television set -- Or better still, just don't install The idiotic thing at all. In almost every house we've been, We've watched them gaping at the screen. They loll and slop and lounge about, And stare until their eyes pop out. (Last week in someone's place we saw A dozen eyeballs on the floor.) They sit and stare and stare and sit Until they're hypnotised by it, Until they're absolutely drunk With all that shocking ghastly junk. Oh yes, we know it keeps them still, They don't climb out the window sill, They never fight or kick or punch, They leave you free to cook the lunch And wash the dishes in the sink -- But did you ever stop to think, To wonder just exactly what This does to your beloved tot? IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD! IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD! IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND! IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND! HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE! HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE! HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES! 'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say, 'But if we take the set away, What shall we do to entertain Our darling children? Please explain!' We'll answer this by asking you, 'What used the darling ones to do? 'How used they keep themselves contented Before this monster was invented?' Have you forgotten? Don't you know? We'll say it very loud and slow: THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ, AND READ and READ, and then proceed To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks! One half their lives was reading books! The nursery shelves held books galore! Books cluttered up the nursery floor! And in the bedroom, by the bed, More books were waiting to be read! Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales And treasure isles, and distant shores Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars, And pirates wearing purple pants, And sailing ships and elephants, And cannibals crouching 'round the pot, Stirring away at something hot. (It smells so good, what can it be? Good gracious, it's Penelope.) The younger ones had Beatrix Potter With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter, And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland, And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and- Just How The Camel Got His Hump, And How the Monkey Lost His Rump, And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul, There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole- Oh, books, what books they used to know, Those children living long ago! So please, oh please, we beg, we pray, Go throw your TV set away, And in its place you can install A lovely bookshelf on the wall. Then fill the shelves with lots of books, Ignoring all the dirty looks, The screams and yells, the bites and kicks, And children hitting you with sticks- Fear not, because we promise you That, in about a week or two Of having nothing else to do, They'll now begin to feel the need Of having something to read. And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy! You watch the slowly growing joy That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen They'll wonder what they'd ever seen In that ridiculous machine, That nauseating, foul, unclean, Repulsive television screen! And later, each and every kid Will love you more for what you did.” ― Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

[chaoticneutralwriter]

GD!Jimin Halloween Special: Camp Horror

You go camping, what could possibly go wrong? Spoilers: Everything.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: comedy, romance, some horror elements, supernatural, fluff

word count: 12.8k (o lordt)

related works: see masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Warnings: coarse language, forced abduction, some violence, some gore mentioned (nothing too bad, its very censored loll), attempted murder (happy ending tho!)

A/N: i was.....*so* close... ah haha....ha..... h a.....

This was supposed to be my halloween special chapter (or at least, i tried ;w;), all based off this one tumblr post i saw in passing LOL (image below) but anyways, it doesn’t really fit into the timeline well so just take it as a fun separate episode, filled with lots of stupid horror movie element tropes. Also, a lot of it is inspired by movies like The Babysitter and Jennifer’s Body?? Anyways, happy belated halloween! 🎃🎃 hope you enjoy this little read break from main story ;w;

“So, wait you're actually going?”

“...Yes?”

He blinks perplexedly, as if he still can't believe it. Honestly, neither can you when you answered yes. You watch him for a moment more, the tiniest wrinkle of confusion settling between his perfectly shaped brows, plush pink lips parted slightly as if wanting to say more. So you wait until his eyes don't look so lost in his thoughts and instead, are directed back to you in a very puppy-like fashion – head slightly tilted and all.

“I thought you said you don't like camping?”

“Ehh....” You sort of half-shrug, but also not outright denying him because it is true; you do not like camping. The entire concept of it encompasses all the things you don't personally enjoy; being outdoors in the wild which means you're exposed to the elements, having nothing but a flimsy cube of nylon to protect you, you're essentially sharing a living space with things that can potentially kill you i.e. Bears, unknown poisonous snakes, killer wasps....and just bugs in general, and on top of that – if you really want the full camping experience – your washrooms are often portable potties or worse.

You cringe every time you had to use a public washroom whenever you're out. And that's just in restaurants and malls alone.

“Did they say it was glamping instead?” Jimin asks, eyes narrowing almost suspiciously, determined to get a logical explanation for your sudden change in heart. When you shake your head no (very regrettably, you think you'd honestly be a little more enthusiastic if it was glamping), his rich brown eyes widen, completely stumped. “Then why....?”

“They kinda cornered me on this one, saying I hate it when I haven't even tried it yet.” You finally admit, shoulders slumping as if accepting your fate. “Also that we'd be on like, a designated camp ground? So the entire area is supposedly safe and in case of emergencies, there would be facilities you can reach easily if you're not out of the boundary.”

Jimin crosses his arms, leaning back in your desk chair languidly. He's dressed down casually; a black t-shirt with an oversized navy knit cardigan thrown over it for the milder, cooler weather, with a big letterman LV patch on one side, black denim jeans and of course, black Chelsea boots which have become a staple for him now. It's a very simple look that never fails to make your heart skip a beat, so effortless and chic. His little hum of intrigue draws you out of your secret (not really secret) ogling and you're met with the sight of him nodding rather sagely at your reasoning.

Now it was your turn to side eye the demon. “What?”

“Nothing, I just find it amusing you agreed to it yet just now, you sound like you're still trying to convince yourself that this is a good idea.” Jimin says, lips quirking in a way where you know he's trying hard not to laugh. Feeling called out, you let him know that it doesn't go unnoticed.

“You're just excited to watch me suffer trying to survive in the woods for three days aren't you?”

“I never said such things cherub, but my heart does flutter whenever we're on the same wavelength.”

And there it is, that notorious cheek. You really shouldn't be surprised.

As you sigh heavily through your nose, Jimin continues to grin at you toothily which only gets more of a rise out of you and you find pettiness rearing its ugly head.

“Okay first off rude, and second, I'm gonna go just to prove you wrong and when it turns out I'm actually super talented at camping?” You lower your voice into a stage whisper, taking a few steps closer and leaning towards Jimin to say tauntingly, “You're gonna look like the biggest clown for all Hell to see.”

Not one to back down, Jimin also mimics you but leans in a lot closer that it has you faltering back a little, a wicked glint in his eyes and a smile much more devilish than before.

“Oh? Confident are we?” He purrs, the feel of his hot breath fanning across your lips has you swallowing imperceptibly. You try hard to maintain strong eye contact but you're no match for Jimin and he makes sure to rub it in that he knows it too. Slowly, he reaches a hand up, his fingers playing with a loose strand of your hair nonchalantly as he continues in that low gravel, dark eyes never leaving yours, “I'll be sure to not miss a second of it. Just tell me when and where.”

“This long weekend, at this place called Blackwood Creek Campsite about an hour and a half drive from the city.” You deadpan, trying to remain unfazed as you swat his hand away even as the back of your neck begins to heat up. You're surprised to see instead the mischievous smile on him faltering slightly, suddenly looking pensive before Jimin tilts his head away to kiss his teeth in annoyance.

“Shit, I'm already busy with something on those days....”

You perk up at the notion, straightening up to give him a curious look. “Doing what? If you don't mind me asking.”

He waves carelessly, “Just some interim meeting or whatever – I wasn't paying much attention. All that I know is that it's a headache but I have to be there 'or else.'”

You giggle quietly as you see him roll his eyes, can't help but to use this opportunity to poke fun at him more. “Aww, poor you. Guess that means you'll be missing out on all the fun after all.” You go as far as to reach out a daring hand to give him a 'comforting' pat. You don't quite make it to its intended target because halfway, Jimin catches your wrist and in one fluid motion, you are now the one who's comfortably straddling his lap.

The complaints and protests forming at the tip of your tongue wither into a breathless gasp as you feel those pillowy lips brush against the base of your throat.

“Hmm...you're right cherub.” Jimin hums, pressing each word into your skin, trailing along the natural path to your collar. At the same time, those wandering fingers begin to sneak under the hem of your shirt and before you knew it, you're putty in his hands. Smirking, he continues, “So why don't we have our own fun to make up for it?”

-

“Girl, we're going for three days, not a whole week.” Your friend Mei laughs as she watches you heave your bags into the trunk of your shared car. You shoot her a glare that had no real hostility behind it, pouting as you did.

“Okay, so I'm a little high-maintenance, but it doesn't hurt to be over-prepared you know.”

“This is camping, not going off to war though.” Jess pipes up, nudging her hip playfully against yours on her way by you. “I've done this plenty of times, Y/N! You have nothing to worry about!” She follows up with a small twirl, spreading her arms up into the air and beaming, “And look how great the weather is! Consider ourselves lucky because the weather is what makes it rough half of the time, so everything is gonna be fine~”

You can't help but smile, knowing that Jess was trying to put your worries to rest and for the most part, it worked. Plus, you think to yourself, not like you can complain much since at the end of the day, you did agree to it so you told yourself that you're not going to let your initial biased opinions on camping prevent you from having a fun getaway with your friends.

“Alright! I think that's the last of everything. Everyone got everything they need because this is your last chance before we hit the road.” Soohee declares, shutting the trunk close. After listing out all the necessities you need amongst yourselves, you all clambered in and begin your hour and a half journey. Much of it was spent catching up, telling stories, and of course, impromptu karaoke to your K-pop playlist.

You get there in no time, passing by the camp ground gates and continuing the drive deeper until you reach the first base where the main facilities are located to do your check-ins (and stretch your legs). You let out a groan as you pop a joint, doing a once over of the area. You're pretty much in the woods, surrounded by tall pines on all sides that offer shade in the mid-afternoon sun. You spot many campers and their cars, as well as some RVS parked not too far off on the more spacious grassy areas in between the trees. Besides here, there was a gravel road that lead further off into the encampment and branches off to what you would assume are more areas you can set up in.

From what you've seen online, it's pretty big; with a few small lakes, a decent hiking trail and designated bonfires. On first impressions, you like the change of scenery. With that thought, you pull out your phone to take a quick video of the place, sending it to your social medias and....

Your fingers move automatically to pull up the conversation thread, sending the video there along with a message; “Made it to the camp grounds!”

A short minute later, you get a reply.

“That's good to hear. Have fun! And remember, don't let the bears eat you ;P”

You snort, about to shoot off your own snarky reply (something along the lines of, 'yeah whatever, have fun at your boring demon business meeting too XP') when suddenly –

“WAAH!!” The yelp comes out way louder than you had liked, undignified but you have more pressing issues to worry about than drawing unwanted attention to yourself. Like how that damn wasp nearly just flew right into your face!! You're ducking reflexively and scurrying away to do half a lap around the car, curling in on yourself until you're sure it's not following you. Off to the side, you can hear Jess laughing.

“Are you good?”

“That nearly flew into my face!!” You immediately retort. You peek around just once more to make sure before straightening up again, a scowl tugging at your lips. Refreshing view, not so refreshing wildlife. 0/10. You suppose it's a good thing you packed insect repellent.

Soohee comes back right at that moment, holding a bunch of pamphlets with a big grin on her face. “Alright ladies, we're good to go! I was just looking at the map here and saw a place by the lake, I think that would be a nice spot to set up if there's space.”

“Oh, that does sound good. Yeah, I'm cool with that.” Mei says, nodding.

“Yeah, I'm okay with that, so long as I don't gotta walk far to use the washroom.” You bring up – if there is one thing you can't compromise, it's that you're not about to do a mini trek to find a sanitary place to pee. With everyone in agreement, you all pile back into the car and begin to make your way to the area. The drive leads you deeper into the forest, the road winding as you pass by many other fellow campers until they grow sparser in between the trees. As you go, more and more you see that some of their leaves have begun to yellow and redden with the changing of the seasons, creating beautiful gradients that make for a picturesque landscape. Eventually, you get a glimpse blue waters and the small road you're on opens to a wide shoreline that leads out to a vast lake.

“We are finally here!” Soohee exclaims excitedly as she pulls the car to a park just off to the side of the entrance. The sound of gently lapping waves greet you when you step out and you feel the cool breeze carry the scent of fresh waters to your nose. The ripples on the water's surface move like sequins reflecting in the sun that it's almost blinding. Off to the side, you spot a little pier leading off into deeper water where you can tie canoes or dive off of. Closer to the shores was what you assume is some kind of storage shed (at least, that's what you hope, the size and shape of it looks too similar to an outhouse. Speaking of....did you even see a washroom on the way?)

“Okay are y'all done taking your obligatory Instagram pics? We need to set up our tents or else we won't have a place to sleep!” Jess says, already popping the trunk open and unloading the big bags that contain the tents. Her comment snaps you out of your daze as you walk over to give your friends a hand. You spend a good time debating about where to set up, how to set up and just the general placement of where you'll put the things you brought. Since there's the four of you, it'll be two to a tent, and the decision on who's rooming with who goes way smoother by comparison.

Luckily you finish settling way before the sun goes down so now, everyone is eager to take their first dip in the lake.

“Did anyone not see a washroom?” You ask, a little concerned. You walk a few steps down towards the crystal clear waters, craning your neck down one side of the shoreline to the other in hopes of spotting something of the like. Instead, what you see is another car just coming to a park. As you watch, you see around four people getting out, beginning to unload their things as well too. Guess you'll have camp neighbours after all.

“Huh, looks like we got company.” Mei remarks over your shoulder as she passes by, heading the opposite way of the newcomers.

“Guess so.” You reply back, falling into steps with her.

“Darn, and here I was actually hoping to have the whole lake to ourselves. Anyways, I think there should be a washroom down this way – we can change there.”

You both walk a few metres down the road until you spot a lone brick building, a path branching off to lead into it. Mei was right in her assumptions; the washroom was located here, along with a small sand pit playground and a few picnic benches.There's not much else, other than a trail that leads off elsewhere into a deeper part of the forest beside it, most likely to be used for hiking.

To your relief, the washroom is at least clean and basic; three sinks, each with a mirror, and three stalls in an all grey concrete interior. You and Mei each take a stall, quickly changing out of your comfy clothes for the long ride to some swimwear before starting your walk back.

“Oh dude, is that a bug bite already?” You hear Mei ask. Looking over, you catch her staring fixedly at a point on your neck. You try to swivel your head so that you can see what she's talking about and despite the awkward angle, the reddish discoloured patch on your collar sticks out like a sore thumb beneath the loose t-shirt you've thrown over your swim top. Except what your friend doesn't know is that this was a completely different kind of bite.

Your face can't help but to flush with heat, even when you try to casually cover up such an incriminating mark. “Ah! R-Really!? I didn't even feel anything! W-What the hell?!” You throw a hand up as if to scratch at it to make it convincing too. Mei scolds you and you inwardly sigh in relief for dodging that bullet. As you're approaching the lake again, you're greeted by the scene of Soohee pushing Jess right off the edge of the pier, her shriek cut short the moment she hits the water with a big splash, followed by Soohee's unmistakable cackle. But what surprises you is the sound of a more masculine laugh joining in.

On closer inspection, you spy the new group of people that arrived not too long ago, also going for a nice swim and.... talking to your other two friends?

Oh?

Since when did this happen?

“Wow, didn't even wait up for us huh?” Mei says loudly, directing the question to your friends as you both got to the shoreline. This of course, gets the attention of everyone, including your would-be neighbours. From here, you can now distinguish their faces clearly. They're four guys, roughly the same age as your own friend group by the looks of it. One was quite tall with blond hair, wading around in the shallow end with his friend, a brunette who's about a head shorter. The third one was closest to where Jess resurfaces with a splutter, bright red hair bobbing like a buoy in the much deeper parts along with the last of the quartet, looking like he could definitely be a K-pop idol, hair dyed a dark magenta with black roots peeking through.

“Not my fault you were taking too long!” Soohee yells back good-naturedly.

“Have to say, it might be our bad – your friend looked like she really wanted the stake her claims on the lake before we did.” The magenta haired one interjects, chuckling as he swims back towards where you and Mei were, standing once it was shallow enough and with a wave and beaming smile, he introduces himself. “I'm Daniel by the way. The blond one is Henri, standing beside him is Michael, and the red head over there is Frederic or Freddy as we like to call him.”

“Hey!” Frederic or 'Freddy' exclaims indignantly. “What did I say about calling me that?!”

“Don't mind him.” Daniel grins, completely ignoring his friend. Honestly, you're not entirely sure what to make of these guys, already awkward enough when it comes to meeting new people so you could only nod your head hesitantly in response. Subtly, you look to Mei expecting for some help but find that she's completely smitten by Daniel, mouth slightly agape and staring a little too intensely at the way the droplets of water are running down his built tan chest. Looks like her qualms about having to share the lake have entirely disappeared too.

In the end, you do the saving and nudge Mei out of her heart eyes stupor. She introduces the both of you, cheeks coloured pink but Daniel either doesn't notice or chooses not to say anything, the amicable grin still on his face as he invites you to finally get your share of the lake. You're not much of a swimmer, choosing to wade around the shallow end just to cool down from the blaring sun until you get roped into a water fight started by Frederic. At this point, it seems like the rest of your friends got on well with the guys and they in turn.

You can already tell Daniel and Frederic to be more of the social butterflies though, them making a noticeable more effort to even talk to you despite how you're more inclined to taking to the sidelines. The other two, Henri and Michael, would only comment here and there whenever the other two would speak but still have a friendly air to them.

By the time the sun started to set, there's been a silent agreement that you all would cook dinner together, sharing the contents of your coolers, portable cookers and apparently speaker (thankfully no one else had showed up at your little lake to make a noise complaint). The easy atmosphere continues as night rolls in with everyone sitting around the small bonfire you made, and a couple of beers in, you find yourself loosening up a bit while your friends get more talkative. During your many conversations, you somehow end up on the topic of the supernaturals.

“Okay, okay. We have to tell ghost stories now; we are camping after all.” Frederic points out. The statement instantly gets a reaction out of everyone.

“Aw no, c'mon!””

“Dude can't we just sing campfire songs?”

“None of us play guitar here Daniel....��

“Eugh, do we have to?” Soohee groans, “Like we're really gonna do that to ourselves?”

You snort, agreeing with Soohee but more so for an entirely different reason rather than her fears. You'd rather stay out of messing with any other sorts of demons or spirits; you already have your hands full with just one.

“You do know we're literally staying in what's considered a haunted landmark right?” Michael almost deadpans.

Well, that's certainly news to you. Everyone's confused eyes zero in on the brunette, who only shrugs innocently before taking a sip from his can.

“I thought you all knew.”

“Uhhh no?” Mei says, a little alarmed. “Since when? And surely it can't be the whole camp ground?”

Daniel lets out an 'ah', as if remembering something. “I mean I did read something about the origins of Blackwood Creek. There was only some that mention about the spooky bits, but otherwise it's mostly about how it's founded by Native Americans.”

“What kind of 'spooky bits' are we talking about?” Jess asks apprehensively. You almost find it a little funny at how scared all of your friends are at the mention of some ghouls that might be lurking in the woods. You would've been on the same boat really, but now your main concerns are, in your opinion, way more threatening than some vengeful spirits; bears.

God, you hope there's no bears....or poisonous snakes. Your half tipsy mind takes you through a completely different thought topic than the one that's currently going on, so you only catch snippets of the stories the other guys are sharing.

“There's an area surrounding an old elm tree where people kept being reported as missing whenever they went on the trail; said there's a witch who was hung there and cursed the land so that anyone who stumbled into her territory would be spirited away. That's why that one section of the hiking path is blocked off from visitors now.” You hear Henri say.

“Oh! That's the one I heard. Like really straight up Blairwitch projects.” Frederic interjects.

“Really? The story I heard was that Blackwood Creek is one huge Native burial ground, and the years of conflict and bad blood being spilt over this land was what woke an evil spirit. People say it's the cause of some unexplained events that's happened around here; giant animal footprints, bear carcasses showing up in the middle of the woods, and vanishings.”

Daniel's voice has a more theatrical flare to it that you had to hold yourself back from grimacing. Damn, as if you're not already uneasy about camping, now you find out that this might also be stolen land? (Of course it would be, you shouldn't really be surprised).

Right at that moment, something brushes against your arm and the sudden sensation startles you into letting out a yelp, arms flailing. It causes a chain reaction as your yelp then startles Mei sitting beside you who lets out a shrill shout, which then makes Jess jump out of her seat while Soohee just looks like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in her seat.

You vaguely hear a loud snort, followed by boisterous laughter across from you but you don't need to look to know who's having a great time from all of this.

“You girls okay? Didn't think you're all this faint hearted.” Michael tries to say sincerely around a wide grin.

“Why'd you even yell like that for Y/N?! You scared the shit out of me!” Mei whines to you, to which you throw up your hands defensively.

“It felt like something was crawling on me okay?! I don't do bugs!”

“Oh man, do I got news for you....”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” You answer dryly in response to Henri's sarcasm, at the same time, you take this as your cue to turn in for the night – you actually want to preserve this post-tipsy drowsiness you're feeling just so you can sleep like the dead, otherwise knowing you, you're going to be too anxious about moths flying into your mouth to even consider shutting your eyes. That scare just now nearly has you sober.

“Alright, I think I'm just gonna head to bed now. You all enjoy your ghost stories.” You stand, finishing the rest of your drink before tossing the can into the black garbage bag and begin to walk off back to your tent site.

“W-Wait, I'm coming too!” You hear Mei call out to you.

“Actually, Y/N's right. We gotta get up early tomorrow if we wanna go check out the sights around here.” Soohee agrees, getting up as well. It prompts Jess to do the same, nodding as your friends begin to tidy up their area but was stopped by Daniel.

“Nah, nah you guys go ahead and turn in. We can clean up here.”

“You sure? Half the mess is ours.” You point out midway throwing away other scraps of garbage into the bag.

“Positive. There's nothing much left anyways. Just gotta put out the fire and then haul the trash to the compost bin.” Frederic reassures. After more insisting going around, they finally shoo you and your friends off to go wash up.

Now by yourselves in the washroom, Mei finally can't contain herself any longer.

“Oh my god, what are the chances of camping with a bunch of cute guys?” She squeals gleefully to no one in particular, eyes practically sparkling even in the dimness of the fluorescent lights.

“They're okay, but Daniel? Whew.” Jess fans herself, swooning a little. “Now him I can agree.”

“Hey no fair! Can you let me have this one for once?” Mei pouts.

“Girls, it's only right to play fair. Why don't we ask them tomorrow if they're down to do some hiking or exploring with us? That way you can both see who's got game or not.” Soohee suggests playfully.

“Alright fine.”

“Don't be a sore loser when I end up gettin' the boy.”

“As if!”

You could only smile wryly at your friends' antics, going through the motion of finishing up your skin routine, stifling a yawn as you put everything back into your small toiletry bag and wait for them to finish up to walk back together. You bid each other good night, making sure to check thrice that no uninvited critters had moved in while you were away before zipping up the opening and protective netting.

“You think those ghost stories are real?” Mei asks in the middle of rolling out her sleeping bag. “If they're so well-known, how come we haven't heard of it before we came here?”

“I don't know, maybe they're not after all? If they are, I guess you would have to dig through the occult side of the internet to find out; highly doubt a tourist-y hotspot like camp grounds would wanna expose their dark history all over their main page.” You offer, getting ready to settle in. You're basically ready to cocoon yourself, hoodie pulled up over your head, pillow squished as much as it can in the little pocket space and zipper closed almost all the way around so only half your face is visible; lets see moths and mosquitoes try to come after you now.

Mei hums thoughtfully. “Hmm, yeah that makes sense.” Turning to you, she asks wide eyed, “Do you believe in all that stuff? Ghosts and like, demonic possessions?”

You choke on a sharp inhale, coughing but quickly get out in between sputters. “U-Uh! Well! Sorta? K-Kinda? Not like everything though? But just 'cuz I'm skeptical doesn't mean I'd go messing around with that kinda shit, I don't want anything to follow me.”

Somewhere in a board meeting in Hell, Jimin sneezes.

“Anyways, we should sleep. It's late.” You follow up in hopes of ending the topic of that conversation and thankfully, Mei agrees. Once she finds a comfortable position, she turns to switch off the portable lamp placed between you two. “In any case, if you need a toilet buddy, don't be shy to wake me up okay? Good night!”

“Mmm, night.” You mumble, snuggling deeper into your bed and halfway in dreamland already.

Some point during the night however, you're rudely roused into consciousness by the worse thing possible – your bladder.

It seems now your body wants to rid of all the liquid you've ingested in one go and giving you no chances to will yourself to go back to sleep and ignore it till morning. With a deep exasperated inhale, you almost roll your eyes open. You vaguely make out the shape of Mei sleeping soundly next to you, her soft snores drifting quietly amidst the sounds of crickets chirping. Not wanting to wake her from her deep slumber, you slowly shimmy out of your sleeping bag to grab your phone and slip on your shoes before making your way over to unzip the tent flap. It was a gruelling process, the sound of the zipper coming undone louder than it should be to your ears but you get out through a small opening successfully without waking your friend.

Stepping outside, you realize you've worked up a sweat from having bundled yourself up so tightly that the cool night air that greets you felt refreshing. The moon is bright out, full and glowing with a warm orange tinge to it. It makes you stop to admire the way it reflects over the surface of the lake, the pale gold light dancing on the water mimics that of the sun, awed by how it seems much bigger and how you can see the dark patches on its surface so clearly. You switch your phone screen to the camera, snapping a few pictures until your satisfied before taking in the atmosphere; the quiet ambiance of the forest sounds mixed in with the faint lapping of waves against the sand made everything peaceful.

“Y/N...”

The whisper suddenly comes as if out of thin air, right next to your ear and you swear you jump five feet back, heart racing up to your throat and bladder on the verge of bursting. It's once you whip your head around do you see a head of magenta that's as bright as the moon itself.

“Daniel!” You whisper shout, hand on your chest. “What the fuck! Why'd you have to sneak up on me like that!?”

“I swore you'd heard me coming but you zoned out hard.” He replies back with a shrug. “Whatchu doing up anyways? Thought you'd be out cold with the way you were so set on turning in for the night.”

“I was just on my way to the washrooms.” You gesture over your shoulder after calming down, turning to get back on track with your purpose before you risk wetting yourself – that scare earlier had you way too close to doing that.

“Oh cool, I'll walk you then.”

“Um, you don't have to....”

You say that but he's already heading off in that direction so you have no choice but to tail after him.

“What do you mean 'I don't have to?' You know it's not smart to be wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night by yourself. Who knows what spooky things might getcha.” The last part he leans in closer to say a bit more teasingly.

“If you mean bears then yes, I'm actually a little afraid of running into one as I'm on my way to taking a piss.” You scoff, crossing your arms and overtake Daniel's long strides. It's not a lie when at this point, you really gotta go. Daniel chuckles from behind, keeping his easy-going pace with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching you.

There's a prickling sensation that runs up the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt. You turn your head to look back, but all you see is Daniel checking his phone. He looks up once he notices that you're looking and simply smiles, tucking it away.

“What's up? Thought you had to go really bad?”

“....Yeah.”

“Kay, well I'mma head on over to the men's then. If I'm not out before you, just wait up and we can walk back together okay?” With that, he passes you and heads straight to the men's washroom, disappearing behind the heavy door with a thump. You stay rooted in your spot for a moment, chewing on your lip but eventually, push the weird feeling to the back of your mind.

One flush later, you're relieved of the choke hold your bladder had on you, stepping back out into the night as you flick away the remnants of water on your hands. Looking around, you don't see Daniel anywhere so you wonder if he's yet to come out of the washroom. You walk out a bit further until you're across the playground, the thought crossing your mind to wait on one of the swings. Up close, you see just how rusted the chains are and now you wonder if it'll even be able to support your weight. You test it by pushing your weight down on the seat – it lets out a loud protesting creak.

Yeah, probably not.

Something rustles through the leaves then, catching your attention instantly. Whipping your eyes to the direction you heard it coming from, you feel every one of your nerves tense but no matter how hard you look, you don't see anything within the dark shadows. Still, you dare not let out the breath you're holding just yet.

“Y/N....”

You whip your head around, ready to berate Daniel for using the same trick to sneak up on you again. Unfortunately, he beats you to the punch.

Quite literally.

The last thing you remember was a sharp pain that explodes from the left side of your temple and your vision immediately going black.

The next time you're pulled back into consciousness, you have a splitting headache that makes opening your eyes difficult without being nauseous. Not to mention a ringing in your ear that seems to last an eternity on top of that, so you just keep them close for now while taking deep breaths and wait for the feeling to pass. Once it dies down however, you begin to make out muffled voices, indistinguishable at first before they gradually become clearer.

“... – hard enough as is, and you nearly blew my fuckin' cover.”

“Shut up, you're the one who changed the plans on us last minute.”

“Yeah because you're a pussy who wanted to 'play it safe'.”

“Can you just both shut up and do something useful?”

You have no idea what's going on but you'd have to agree with whoever said that because their bickering is doing nothing for your pounding head, a quiet groan slipping from the back of your throat unintentionally and when you try to reach a hand up to soothe the pain, you find that they're stuck. What the fuck?

“I think she's starting to wake up.”

There's a set of footsteps approaching you, the sound of trampled leaves getting louder until they stop right in front of you and you feel a presence of another person. Slowly, you peel your eyes open and though you had to blink a couple of times to focus, you still recognize that stupid bright fucking head of magenta through the blur, squatting down in front of you.

“Hey....Hello there....” He speaks softly to you, almost cooing at you as he gently rights your head so that it's not resting so lopsidedly. It doesn't stop you from wincing, the cramps in your neck have long since settled in. When he's sure that you've become fully aware and alert, his lips pull back into a sickeningly saccharine smile. “Welcome back, sweet thing.”

Your eyes immediately narrow into a glare and you go to tell him off, only to get a mouthful of cloth instead. Daniel notices your belated realization too, but continues to smile and speak to you amicably, “I know this is a lot to ask of you since we only just really met and all, but I need you to be a good girl and not try anything funny because I don't wanna have to hurt you more than I should, okay?”

Your racing heart has your chest slightly heaving but despite that, you're surprisingly calm; perhaps a part of you stubbornly refuses to let Daniel intimidate you or you're not quite all there yet. Seeing how unexpectedly composed you are, scowl showing no signs of softening any time soon, Daniel's eyebrow quirks and his smile shifts into a smirk, clearly amused.

Turning to shout over his shoulder, Daniel calls, “We got a feisty one boys.”

“Great.”

“That's either gonna make this harder or easier for us.”

“Okay cool, now can you just get your ass over here and help?”

“I am helping.” Daniel replies matter of factly, turning his attention back to you. “I'm making sure the guest of honour is comfortable.” A sudden light nearly blinds you and you turn your head away, squinting your eyes. It takes you a moment to figure out that the harsh light was coming from the flashlight Daniel was holding. He gives you a once over with it before inhaling through his teeth, grimacing as he reaches up towards your temple. “That's gotta hurt....”

A stinging pain comes from when his finger prods at it, causing you to flinch away. Scrunching your face, you finally notice the stickiness clinging to the skin there, the itchiness from it reaching as far down as the side of your cheek.

“Yeah, didn't mean to swing at you that hard but, you know, adrenaline and all that shit.” He chuckles like he didn't just clobber you with a brick (you don't know if it's a brick or the flashlight he has, but it might as well be). “Also you can thank Frederic for the ropes, just a little safety precaution – can't have you wandering around on your own at night right?”

“Daniel! We're done over here so any year now.” You hear Frederic call.

“Oops, and that would be our cue.” Daniel stands then, finally allowing you to have a good look at your surroundings, and what you see makes your stomach drop. You have no idea what part of the camp grounds you're in, or if this is still even in the camp grounds at all. It looks like you're in a clearing, seemingly smack dab in the middle of the woods with overgrown roots, dead leaves and dry patches of grass; not exactly an ideal spot to entice any campers. Surrounding you from all sides are thick trees, whatever moonlight seeping through their dense foliage creates an eerie backlit glow, but otherwise further beyond there is only darkness.

The only area well-lit enough is the one you and your captors are in, thanks to a series of large candles they've placed to form what looks like a circle some feet away from you and the barren branches of the large tree you're sitting under, offering you an unobstructed view of the orange-tinted moon.....

Ah –

A chill runs through you then, the same time a switch goes off in your head. Whipping your gaze upwards, you take in the full sight of the tree. The trunk is thick, a testament to its old age, with long crooked branches, stretching out like sharp, boney hands. There's one in particular that hangs conveniently above the centre of the encirclement, low enough that someone who's at least two heads taller than you could reach with a good jump, and ominously hanging from that....was another line of rope.

Your body freezes as your mind races, faint memories about a story of an old elm tree, hanged witches, and cursed lands flashing before you, and given where you are, it all adds up to be too much of a coincident for it not to be what the fuck you think this is.

“Alright, up we go.” Daniel takes a firm hold under your arm and hauls you up easily, beginning to drag you towards where the other guys are waiting in the inner circle of the candles. The first wave of panic finally hits you like a freight train, your limbs shaking with the cold sweat taking over as you squirm with all your might, your protests muffled from the gag.

“Oh c'mon Y/N, don't be a spoil sport now.” Daniel chastises, pulling on you hard so that you don't break free from his grasp. “You're the main star of the show tonight!”

You frantically shake your head, digging your heels into the dirt in hopes you would be able to stall for time to figure out what they're planning. You need to keep a clear head, you tell yourself desperately, you have to or else you'll truly be helpless to do anything, too blinded by the fear. Right now, this is the only fighting chance you got. If you let it slip, it'll be too late.

“Yeah Y/N, look at it this way,” Frederic starts, coming over to help Daniel drag you the rest of the way until you're standing right in the middle of the lit circle. “It's quite simple really.” He grunts, doing a short jump in order to reach the extra rope dangling from the branch above you. “We're just a bunch of guys with some pretty big ambitions.”

Daniel shoves you forward so that Frederic can grab your bound wrists in order to tether you to the cord. You hate that a part of you lets out a small breath of relief at seeing that you weren't going to have it tied around.... some other part of your body. Once he's sure you're secured does Daniel back off, and just when you think you're rid of one less problem, you're hit with another, bigger predicament because the only reason why he's not breathing down your neck anymore is so he could tug on the other end of the rope you're attached to. Instantly, your arms are hoisted above your head and you're left barely able to balance on the tips of your toes.  

“Unfortunately, those big ambitions require equally bigger means to achieve.” Frederic continues over the sounds of your struggling. You try not to tug too much on it but it seems there's no way to avoid having the rope dig into your skin, leaving you to bite down on the pain.

“Yeah, do you know how hard it is to make it past even the first audition to become a trainee?” Daniel butts in almost indignantly, shining the flashlight in your face again, much to your chagrin. “The system's rigged as fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah we heard it all before already. Geez...” Michael practically rolls his eyes as he says. “You're not the only one here with problems.”

“Point is, you could say we're just 'levelling the playing field.'” Frederic concludes, turning to you. “And you're gonna help us.”

So they're gonna offer me as sacrifice to sell their soul to Satan for it?! What happened to doing it the old fashion way?! You wanted to scream, but right now you need to focus your energy on your surroundings. Your eyes dart around the ground for any of those tell-tale marks, something that would give you any hints as to what sorts of things would entail in this ritual they're trying to attempt. You find nothing from your precarious position, other than those ominously flickering candles.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Henri pulling out what looks to be a large leather bound book – its old, beaten and worn out state something even you could see in this dim lighting. You can't make out the text on the cover but once he opens it, you see the yellowing pages are scrawled with symbols and words in what looked like black ink. You're not sure if it's because of the way it looks, but at a glance you admit it the aged book could've had you fooled for being something legit. You don't get the chance to further try and confirm those suspicions as something else catches your attention; the cold glint of a hunting knife.

The blood drains from your face, each breath becomes more difficult, the pressure on your chest growing and your limbs becoming numb from both the fear and prolonged strain.

“Alright boys,” Frederic says, twirling the knife in hand, “Remember, we say the prayer and then we each take a turn stabbing her and then I write my name in the book with her blood.”

“Wait, why do you get to go first? I was the one who brought her.” Daniel argues.

“But who's the one who found the book first huh? You know how hard it was to get my hands on this?”

“Would you both quit bitching about it? We all each need to spill the blood of the innocence anyways.” Michael interjects, “And luckily, she has friends.”

The statement effectively puts their bickering to rest, but to you it was a slap to the face, a rude awakening. This changes everything; now it's not just a matter of your life on the line, it's also your friends' because if you don't survive this, then they'll be their next victims. You can't let that happen.

You won't.

The need to protect your friends overpowers the numbing fear, along with a burning hot anger; anger from being deceived, hurt and targeted by a bunch of selfish, heartless people who would go as far as to commit murder, while knowing nothing of the dark magic they're meddling with.

Perhaps it was lucky that it had been you they got, because had it not been, it just would've been some other poor unfortunate soul; someone who wouldn't have had a chance of surviving this at all. The cogs in your head starts turning quickly and a plan begins to take shape.

If it's a demon they want, then a demon they will get.

“Let's start then.” Henri says, and the others gather around him, forming a semi-circle facing you. You're directly across from Henri who's holding the book open to two pages that had a pentagram drawn on them, the black lines looking more like drying blood seeping into the paper now than it did ink. The rest all hold out a hand, hovering over the book before they start to chant in unison.

“In the darkest of hours, we call to you. With the blood of the innocence – ”

Their words drown out over the noise of your own heartbeat as you viciously try to tear away the cloth around your mouth by using any means, and after gnashing your teeth until they ache and scraping your face against the crook of your arm to the point your cheek is inflamed, it miraculously slips down enough for you to be able to cry out.

“W-Wait! Stop! You can't – IT WON'T WORK!!”

Suddenly, there are four pair of eyes upon you. You don't quite know what compelled you to blurt out those words in particular but you're thankful enough that it manages to catch their attention, interrupting them from completing the 'prayer'. Henri is the first to snap out of his shock.

“Who the fuck was in charge of tying her up?”

“Piss off.”

“Well go fix it jackass!”

“Wait! No I'm serious, the ritual won't work!” You insist, unintentionally tugging at your bindings in your fervour. You feel the rope cutting into your wrist again but the adrenaline sparked in you made it seem nonexistent. You have to convince them to go along with you for your plan to work, however a huge chunk of it is depending on whether you can spin a good enough lie. Problem is, you don't quite have a solid story put together yet. There's no time though, you've taken the bull by the horns and now you gotta roll with the punches.

Guess it's time to regurgitate all the stuff you briefly read on demons and satanic rituals that one time.

“The moon isn't right.” You start, “You're not likely to summon Lucifer with this moon, it has to be a blood moon for it to work.”

There's a beat of silence that passes between all of you, and within those moments of what felt like an eternity, you hold your breath, waiting. Daniel looks to Henri, who looks to Michael, the other two are quiet in thought. It's after a moment, Frederic retorts defensively, “It's a harvest moon, it's still enough to act as a strong medium to channel dark magic. Besides, why should we believe in anything you say? Not like you know anything about stuff like this.”

You actually scoff out loud without really meaning to, but how can you not? The irony of it all is just too much to handle. Luckily, it seems like your little slip works to your advantage; it seems like the boys mistook it for confidence, so you play into it.

“Then you should also know that a harvest moon is more associated to paganism and Wicca, so unless you're trying to make a deal with some witch, you're not going to summon any sort of spawn from Hell, let alone Lucifer himself to grant you your wishes.”

Daniel's gaze shifts questioningly again to his friends while Frederic grits his teeth, looking more and more frustrated. You're not sure if it's because he's annoyed at you running your mouth, or that he's actually beginning to self-doubt.

In a move you think no one had anticipated, he breaks away from the group, marching up to you, knife brandished in a deathly grip aimed towards you. You instinctively try to step back, forgetting that you're still tied in place and so all your feet does is slip against the ground with nowhere to go. Your heart lurches, a single name lodged into your throat –

“How bout you fuckin' prove it then you little bitch?!” Frederic demands, gripping your shirt to hold you in place, the knife dangerously pressed close to your neck. There's an uproar of shouts and shuffling that erupts from behind you, the rest of the boys frantically trying to calm their friend.

“Woah woah woah! Dude! Chill out!”

“Yo what the fuck!”

“Frederic, relax!”

“She's fucking with us! Why else would she be telling us this?! We should just gut her now and get this over with!”

“I swear I'm not! I'm telling you because you're just screwing yourself over if you do this!! I know because – !!” You gasp, words fumbling in a panic before you spit out, “I-I've seen it done before!”

The statement seems to resonate in the small clearing, everyone coming to a complete stop in what they were doing. It's Daniel who makes the first move, carefully placing a firm hand on Frederic's and you sigh when the blade eases from your neck.

“Alright, before we go stabbing anyone just yet, why don't we let Y/N elaborate on this?” You see Frederic begin to open his mouth, probably to retort again but Daniel cuts him off, “C'mon Freddy, it won't hurt us, we're already in too deep to back out on this anyways. We can let her speak now, and then she can forever hold her peace.” With that, the knife comes away completely and you're in the green once more.

Once Daniel is sure that Frederic doesn't get itchy fingers again, he turns to you, arms crossed condescendingly and expectant. “Well? Go on then, what words of 'wisdom' do you have to impart on us Y/N?”

You don't like that you have to thank Daniel for throwing you this bone, but you suppose beggars can't be choosers at this point. By way of saying they're 'already in too deep to back out anyways', it means that no matter what you say here, they intend to kill you. So for him to even give you this chance, he's clearly curious and cocky enough to want to humour you.

Pride really isn't a sin without reason.

You lick your dry lips, steadying your breath in order to maintain a sense conviction in your voice, “It's already hard enough summoning a demon, because a vital part of the ritual is knowing their true name – it's the key to having control over them, and more likely for you to have a chance to strike a deal. Reason why so many attempts at rituals fail is because people don't realize how much you actually need to do in order to summon Lucifer himself.”

The silence that follows is so heavy that you can feel the weight of it pressing down your shoulders. It makes you tense up and you race to continue furthering your line of reason, “I mean, it makes sense doesn't it? Lucifer, who's already so powerful with how many souls he's collected, why would he bother to come collect some that aren't any way special?”

Swallowing, you take the chance to do a once over on the group. You can't deny that you're genuinely anxious and nervous, very hyper aware that this is still very much a volatile situation. Which is why when you see the look of subtle agreement pass over their faces, you felt a little more reassured. So far so good.

“What usually ends up happening is you attract an unknown demon or some sort of demonic entity with no means of controlling it. It'll attach itself to you and slowly feed off of your soul without you even knowing until you just end up dying a sudden death. At least, that's what I suspect happened...to that girl I saw attempting the ritual.”

“So what exactly did you see?” Michael asks, narrowing his eyes and you know that your next words are going to be judged. You hope your hesitation passes off as something more along the lines of 'a memory you don't want to recall' rather than quietly scrambling to put together a mildly believable tale.

“It was....It was like, two years ago? Maybe longer? At a Halloween party me and a friend went to. The host wasn't someone we were close with....like, a friend of a friend kinda thing. And you know a Halloween party isn't one without someone trying to contact the dead.”

“Also booze, lots and lots of booze.” Daniel had to add. It takes a lot to refrain from rolling your eyes. Luckily, Henri does it for you.

“Yes,” You continued, deadpan. “Lots of booze. Except all that booze made some people think a ouija board is beneath them; they had to up the stakes, and one thing led to another and before you know it, you got a band of...half-drunk people heading off into the night to try their luck at summoning a demon.”

Henri raises a brow dubiously at that. “And you were a part of it?”

“W-Well....no, not exactly....” You reply, “I was more or less dragged along because, my friend – you know, being the one to easily worry – she needed to make sure no one got hurt, or arrested – whatever. So we followed and just ended up watching on the side lines. We honestly didn't think anything serious would come out of it. But,” You shake your head, as if trying to find the best way to describe what you had 'witnessed', “as soon as that girl – god I can't even remember her name; Molly? Mary? – she was reading something and.... Well, it looked like nothing happened after, but I remember it got so cold and then I saw something looming over her..... following her.”

“Like a ghost?”

“No....It was bigger, like a shadow but....” You struggle, because you really are, and all you can think of is, please don't ask for the details, please don't ask for the details. “It's later that I get told she passed away, like...not even three weeks after the party? I heard no one knew the cause, but I just had this feeling that it had to do something with that day. So I got curious, did a little digging and......that's how I found out about things.” And as an afterthought, you add, “Things that maybe I, or anyone, shouldn't have.”

The last line was a bait; the only thing you need from them is to agree to doing your version of the 'ritual' and as it hangs in the air, you begin to see the fruits of your labour. Daniel is mildly intrigued, Michael and Henri are a bit more on the baffled side, while Frederic....

He's chewing his lip worriedly, deep in thought before seemingly making up his mind. He fixes you with a hard stare, and his question sounded more like a demand. “What did you find?”

“Only what I've just told you....” You reply, and steeling yourself, you meet his gaze unwaveringly. “...And a name.”

Frederic inhales sharply, jaw clenched and his grip on the hilt tightens. Suddenly the air grows a lot more serious, even Daniel's face turns rigid from his usual sneer. You watch as each of them exchange glances, and after a silent agreement, Frederic turns back to you.

Eyes hardening, he says to you in a low, threatening voice, “You're lucky there's no signal out here, or we would've seen if you were really telling the truth or not. So here's what we're gonna do instead.” Once again, he takes the knife and points it to you, the blade gleaming menacingly against the moonlight. “You're gonna tell us how to summon the demon you found, and if it turns out you're lying.....We'll slit your throat and do it our way.”

It's the way he looks at you; cold, void of any sort of remorse, like you're nothing more than a means to an end goal. It's the complete one-eighty from the first time you've met him, met any of them. It's at this moment, you realize how truly frightening the human nature can be.

But you have an end goal here too, and that is to put a stop to this.

“I'll tell you, on one condition. Please,” You pause, taking in a shaky breath and despite the cool air the night offers, your skin feels damp and clammy, “please spare my friends. Leave them out of this.”

Frederic scoffs, using the flat end of the blade to tip your chin higher. “That all depends whether this will work or not, so you better pray it does.”

You shouldn't be surprised that that's your final answer. With not much left to do, you decided to get this shitshow on the road. “...Got any salt on you?”

If there were any doubts lingering in the guys before, it certainly went away the moment you had them write down the name they're meant to say (thank god for that you suppose, because you really wouldn't know what to do if they didn't believe an actual demon name you're giving them). That aside, you had made them keep the original 'prayer' because 1) you can't be bothered to change it and 2) it didn't really matter anyways. The set up was the same, with the only difference being – at your advice – a ring of salt drawn big enough to hold both you and a potential second entity in it within the circle of candles.

“Remember, it's important you call out his name at the right times, and you need to say it once for each person.” You say.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we just get on with it?” Standing just outside the salt circle, the rest of the guys are positioned on points where a pentagram would've been, with you at the head. Inhaling through your nose heavily, you push down your annoyance and close your eyes, focusing your energy. Now that it's happening, you think this would be the first time you've tried calling out to Jimin this way.

Let's see how well it works.

Henri picks up the book again, opens it to the page and once more, the prayer begins.

“In the darkest of hours, we call to you.

With the blood of the innocence, we offer to you

A path unto earth, and with thy power may we survive the night.

O one whom all is set aflame, we call to you,

Rhaemaris.”

A chill runs down your spine, the same time something in the air changes. Like a creature being called forth, a heavy fog crawls forward from beyond the edges of the forest, slowly clawing its way towards you until the ground is blanketed by its mass.

“O wretched soul, we call to you,

Rhaemaris.”

You shudder as you begin to hear whispers, disembodied voices ringing in your ears and you wonder if it's just you, but still, you dare not open your eyes yet.

“O one who walks the path of darkness, we call to you,

Rhaemaris.”

The sky suddenly darkens, the moon swallowed by the thick clouds rolling in, and the only lights you have left are the candles which surrounds you.

“Let our desires be true, as our intent malicious.”

Let us join hands, we call to you,

Rhaemaris!”

Your own whisper of his name is drowned out by the voices of the others, and though they might've not heard you, you're hoping that someone else did. As if to answer your silent plea, a gust of wind rushes through, carrying up wisps of fog with it and threatening to blow out all the candles in one go, their flames flickering dangerously down to the wicks when –

“What the fuck?!”

Daniel's alarmed cry finally makes you snap your eyes open because the sheer panic from it was quite serious. And perhaps he had every right to be, from his point of view.

Because it's not every day that the flames of a candle all turn pitch black in a blink of an eye. What was also frightening was the fog around you had begun to condense in front of you, swirling into a vortex until it didn't look like fog anymore, but a thick black smoke with sparks of embers flying and the smell of sulphur burning your nose. Your eyes water from it, and you try your best to shield your face away from this growing heat that seems to press right up against you.

Through squinted eyes and dishevelled hair, you finally see something emerge from within the chaos that makes you slump, all the tension leaving you.

Black Chelsea boots.

As quick as the winds had picked up, they vanish without a trace along with the eerie light of the candles, plunging the area into complete darkness. You already can't see past the black smog that has yet to settle, seemingly rippling and billowing with a mind of its own around his figure but you can clearly see the slight confusion on his face and that alone makes you crack the first smile all night, a quiet laugh exhaling tiredly from your lips. The sound immediately catches his attention, his head quirking towards your direction.

“Cherub?” It's gentle, and so soft you could mistaken it as just your imagination. You want to hum back in reply but you're rudely cut off by the voice of another.

“Demon! We have summoned you!” Frederic shouts.

You strain your neck to see where it is that the quartet had fled to when shit started to hit the fan and manage to spot a mop of red and magenta hair a fair distance behind where Jimin was standing. On closer inspection, it would appear that they're just beyond the salt circle you've asked them to draw around you. It takes a lot to hold back the laugh that wants to escape from your lips; cowardly enough to hide behind some superstitions, but ballsy enough to stay.

“Summoned?” You hear Jimin hiss. He whips his head away from you if only briefly, as if highly offended by the notion. You don't see what the others do, but when Jimin pins his gaze on them, they visibly flinch back. Under the pressure of his scrutiny, Michael blurts out, speaking quickly in a way that you think he's trying to conceal his fears.

“We've summoned you to make a deal, and in exchange for the sacrifice we give, we ask you grant our wishes.”

A heavy silence follows with no one daring to move. Jimin lets the words sink in and slowly, he turns back towards you. Face-to-face, you finally take in his appearance of immaculate raven dark hair, and the pristine black on black suit he dons. You have the mind to wonder if you had summoned him in the middle of a meeting or board presentation of sorts, and the image tickles you ever so slightly. No wonder he looked so confused. Trails of the black smoke follows Jimin when he takes a step closer to you, close enough until you can smell the comforting scent of burnt cedar wood and spices.

There's an underlying glow to his irises, red and vibrant but unlike most people, it doesn't frighten you in the slightest. To you, they're as warm as a fire burning in a hearth and as beautiful as precious rubies. Those eyes carefully take in your features, a worry crease forming in between his brows and you want to so badly to reach up to smoothen them out, if only you weren't still bound. He seems to notice too, and his jaw stiffens, clenched so hard you fear he might crack a bone or two. Jimin reaches up a hand, cupping the cheek that's still stained with your dried blood. The moment he touches, you can almost feel the boiling heat of anger emanating from his body, the whites of his sclera gone as his fingers lightly trail over the head wound.

Subtly, you lean into his palm, eyes hoping to convey that although a bit battered and shaken up, you're not in any life threatening danger, at least not anymore now that he's here. He softens enough to let you know he understands, but it does little to calm him completely. On a sharp inhale, Jimin's expression blanks, a stoney mask in its place that even has a shiver run down your spine. Withdrawing his hand, he raises it as if to strike you. It comes down too swiftly for you to see but suddenly you find yourself falling, gasping as your arms are cut loose.

Jimin catches you before you face plant, and from how long your arms have been held up, they feel like jelly rather than parts of your body. With no hopes of lifting them any time soon, you easily go limp in his arms. Above you, a chilling laugh rings out in the clearing.

“How quaint....” You hear Jimin sneer. “I must commend you for so boldly dabbling in dark magic like this.” He adjusts you so that you're able to be seated on the ground comfortably. “But my.....what a shame.”

“....W-What....What do you mean?” One of them quivers. With a flick of his wrist, the thick corded ropes break away like shredded ribbons. You wince when you see how chaffed and tender the skin has become. If possible, Jimin's face darkens even further. Before you can console him once more, he turns his full attention back to the group, his tall figure shielding yours.

You think it must be taking him everything he has to not snap, but the deceptively even tone of his voice still barely hides the fury he's holding back. “I'm afraid there won't be any deals to be had tonight.”

That gets Frederic riled up, allowing him to gather his wits momentarily, surprising even you. “That doesn't make sense! We called you here, so you should be answering to us! Rhaemaris!”

Suddenly, Jimin's hands shoot up, engulfed in flames and an oppressive force erupts from him, so powerful that it knocks the wind out of you too but you see that it does more. As if rooted to their place, the four guys are frozen, their figures visibly trembling in a fight to move without success. Horrified, Daniel wheezes out, “I-I c-can't fucking m-move!”

“That name is not yours to command!” Jimin bellows, his words heavily distorting. “And it never was to begin with! My loyalties have already been promised to another.”

“T-Then how a-are you here?! Who summoned you?!” Michael demands.

A slow, insidious grin spreads across plush lips before Jimin takes one decisive step out of the salt ring. You watch, fascinated that it does little to stop him, emitting no more than a spark that fizzles out almost instantly and barely leaving a scuff on his patent shoes. Once he makes show that there's nothing they can do to stop him, Jimin turns in a way that gestures to you, and the shadows that dance across his features make the row of fangs and the blood-red slitted gaze all the more frightening.

“She did.”

Once again, all eyes are on you and you're not quite sure how to break it to bunch of strangers that very much wanted to kill you for their satanic ritual that yeah, plot twist; you have a demon as a boyfriend, and they picked the wrong girl to sacrifice.

So you just wave.

Jimin chuckles, then begins to stalk towards your four pale-faced captors, like a predator that's been set loose. “Now that we've got that out of the way, I'm sure you all know just how important a name is to a demon.”

With each step he takes, the grass beneath his soles singes.

“And I'm sure you know....that it wouldn't be in my best interest to let four, undeserving scums  walk free with that knowledge, right?”

His shadow starts to morph and twist, stretching in a way that it didn't resemble his form anymore, coming alive right before your eyes. The four are reduced to a cowering, helpless mess, no longer able to form any coherent words. Pleased, Jimin's grin stretches wider until it resembled a Cheshire cat.

“I'm glad we're all in agreement.” Then, turning to you, he says sweetly, “Close your eyes darling, and don't open them until you've count to five. I'd rather you not....see something so unsightly.”

You comply because you really don't think you can stomach whatever Jimin has in store for them. You're pretty much on your last leg in terms of how much you can take in one night. Eyes shut, you begin to mentally count.

Five....

A garble of pleading, you can't make sense of them.

Four...

They break abruptly into choked screams, but they don't last, cut short into silence.

Three....

A crunch, like the breaking of bones, and one by one loud wet thumps hit the ground.

Two...

The strong iron stench of blood hits your nose like a truck, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

One...

You feel a heatwave wash over you. Faintly, you hear the crackling of flames before it all goes quiet. A soft touch against your cheek has you tentatively opening your eyes and your vision is filled with Jimin's handsome face, coffee brown eyes staring back at you and hardly a speck or hint of the carnage he enacted just now.

“You okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shake your head. “No....not really. Just – head kinda hurts and my arms feel like they weigh a ton.”

His brows furrow as he brushes away the flyaway hairs on your face. “Why didn't you call for me sooner? That could've been dangerous.”

“....Guess your penchant for the dramatics are rubbing off on me.”

Jimin scoffs, but the corner of his mouth tugs into a smile anyways, not denying it. “You're lucky you're cute, and hopefully you've had your fill in fun this one time around. I don't think I'll be able to tolerate a second time.”

He pulls you into his arms once again, positioning you so that in one swoop, he lifts you up bridal style. You clutch onto the lapels of his jacket, blinking when you get the full view of the clearing. You're surprised to see that there's not a single trace of the guys anywhere.

A pair of soft lips press themselves to your forehead, drawing your attention back up to Jimin, “You must be tired cherub, let's get you cleaned up a bit and then off to bed.” Upon seeing your confused face, he asks, “What's wrong?”

“Where....? Where did they go?”

“Hmm? Oh, them.” Jimin strolls off casually, “I sent them to Hell, right where they belong, and right where they would've ended up anyways. Consider it a fast pass.”

“But wouldn't someone report them missing?”

“I'll have that taken care of.”

You hum, not sure how but supposing it's for the best. A short moment after, you feel Jimin stop in his tracks.

“What is it?” You ask. Stooping down, he grabs something off the ground and when he straightens, you see that it's the old book that Henri had been holding during the summoning.

“Oh it's –”

“Woah I haven't seen this in centuries!”

The excitement in his voice catches you off guard. Such a stark contrast that it makes you double-take on the book to make sure it's the same one you're both talking about. In an impressive display of magic, Jimin tosses the book upwards, allowing it to flip open by itself and hover in the air before you. Now, you can clearly see the dark scrawls, all in a language you don't recognize but for Jimin, it seems he's taking great joy in reading whatever is written. Curiousity piqued, you ask, “What does it say?”

“Oh, just nonsense about other demons; like Menstopheles' horns are only big because he's overcompensating. Or Xe'arix is scared of black cats and big spiders....Stupid shit we all wrote about each other at some point in our lives....Wonder where's mine....”

You're in utter disbelief to say the least, but what's even crazier is that for some reason, this sounds more and more like....

“....Is this....a burn book?”

“...A what now?”

“You know....like from 'Mean Girls?'”

“....What is 'Mean Girls?'” The innocent tilt of his head at you is more than enough to let you know that he's being honest. A laugh wheezes out of you, and you knock your head gently against Jimin's chest. This entire time....Ah, forget it...

You silently however, make a mental note to drag him into watching the movie again with you. He blinks perplexedly but shrugs, just happy to see you safe.

“Alright enough of this.” Jimin flicks the book and it goes flying before bursting into flames, dissolving instantly, then continues on walking. As if no longer plagued by the dark magic, the forest once again settles into a quiet peaceful lull, crickets chirping and a few fireflies dotting along the path in front of you. Along with the warmth of Jimin, the exhaustion after an adrenaline high has sleep pulling at your eyes.

“So,” You hear Jimin say, and you hum back absentmindedly. “How's that for a first camping experience?”

“....Jimin....” Your groan comes out from the depths of your soul, like you've aged ten years. The tinkling of his laughter follows but you silently consent; this was not exactly the wild outdoor adventures you had signed up for and quite frankly, you think you'll spend the rest of the year indoors.

Camping – you respect it, but it just ain't you.

#jimin x reader #jimin x oc #jimin x you #guardian demon!jimin #halloween bts special #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fics #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #jimin imagine #jimin supernatural au #bts supernatural au #bts fics #bts fanfic #park jimin fic #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x oc

[presidentbungus]

idk where the hell to take this (ideas appreciated loll) but I think it’s cool

(engiespy🙂)

Spy knows something is wrong. He’s not sure what but it’s something. It picks away at him, slowly, agonizingly. He stumbles through a field of bullets and explosions clutching his side, blood streaming down his leg—he knows he’s disguised but he doesn’t know as who and somehow he doesn’t feel like that matters. A Heavy passes him, their Pyro, his own Scout, before being decimated by sentry fire. He sees the sentry set up on the platform above the point.

And, well, where there is smoke there is fire. Something along those lines. Engineer—their Engineer—the one that he can’t look at without wanting to throw up—he putters between buildings, grinning, his face belying a mean streak several miles wide. Singing, almost. Spy’s Soldier rockets above the battlefield and is instantly torn through, flesh torn and blood spilled, and he almost goes sagging to the ground like paper floating in the wind. Engineer whoops in a high falsetto, untrained and uneven. Spy thinks he’s a baritone, maybe. Spy barely makes it up the stairs but he manages. He reaches for his sapper and finds nothing. He doesn’t know where his sapper is. He knows it does not matter.

“Solly,” Engineer barks—it takes Spy a moment to realize who he’s speaking to. That takes care of that question, then. “I’ve told ya you can’t spend the whole fight sittin’ ‘round my dispenser. Get back out. Call Doc if you need to.”

“I’m—“ Spy chokes. The voice that comes out is not his, or Soldier’s. It’s low but there is not enough gravel. Engineer draws his wrench, starts stomping closer—all Spy can bear to do is watch. “I—please. I don’t have my sapper.”

Spy’s grabbed by the front of his suit—his uniform—he’s still Soldier, and metal fingers crumple the cloth. He so badly wants to feel it. “I don’t wanna hafta take a risk,” Engineer says—dejected, almost. Like he doesn’t mean it. Spy thinks he might just be reading into it a little too much. “What do you want from me?”

“I… don’t want…” Spy might be crying—he can’t really feel his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t want anything.”

And here he releases his disguise—like exhaling a breath he’s been holding. And smoke ripples off of him, circling them, and he shuts his eyes hard as he can as he hears a sentry beep towards him and—

And nothing comes. The sentry’s enclosed in a red bubble, laser pointing nowhere, and Engineer has his other hand in a death-grip on the radar dish—what is it called. It doesn’t matter. Spy can’t see his eyes through the goggles but he can tell his gaze trails down to the weeping gash on his side, speckled with lead, that’s been sopping blood on the ground since he came—and he sees it, analyzes it, eyebrows raising, lips parting just a little bit in that way Spy knows means he’s thinking.

He seems to remember where he is, after entirely too long. “Put your damn disguise back on,” he commands, and Spy reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out the cigarette tray, and his gloves ripple into poorly-applied bandages, and—and this part’s the worst one—and he takes a cigarette for himself, and offers one to Engineer.

For a moment they hang. Sit there staring at each other, gazes burning holes in their heads, and then Engineer laughs and Spy’s stomach goes to a rolling boil and Engineer takes the cigarette, mumbles something entirely incomprehensible, and tugs him over to a dispenser. The wound turns numb, then dissolves slowly into skin, and Spy can feel the world coming back to him—clearing, color returning to his vision, and the high hits him like a truck—intoxication. Whatever just happened. Engineer’s back to whatever he’s doing but he throws glances back every few seconds, warily, like he’s unsure.

Spy doesn’t know what to do.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” The voice that comes out is Scout’s, though it’s darker, weighed down. So many hours of practicing into a mirror never managed to capture the energy he has.

“Well, maybe I’ll ask why you didn’t bother to bring a sapper to the goddamn nest, but maybe we don’t have to have answers for everything.”

“… You shouldn’t trust me.”

To this, Engineer stops whatever he’s doing, and he looks back, cracks a grin that makes Spy’s various organs melt into slush. “Why not?”

“I just don’t think you should.“

“Well, give me a reason.”

Spy swallows. His throat feels like sandpaper. “I don’t want to.”

“Well, there you go.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“… Tell me why.“

“You said I didn’t have to give a reason for everything.”

“Well, I reckon this one’s different. Ain’t it?”

“No.”

“That’s what you think.”

Spy stands, and takes one step, and then sits down again. Maybe he won’t leave just yet. “You are impossible to have a conversation with.”

“You ain’t making it too easy, yourself.”

“… I’m sorry.” What? “I… don’t know what I…”

“Odd apology, but still accepted. Ain’t your team gotta get… lookin’ for ya, at some point?”

Spy’s stomach does a little twist. “Probably not.”

“Why?”

“… I don’t think they care.”

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“Well, we can work up to that.”

Spy makes some pained little wheeze-gasp noise and he’s not sure what this is about. “What does that mean?”

“I think we should do this more often.”

“Isn’t it… why?”

“‘Cause I like you.”

“Why?”

“I dunno what’s going on but it’s definitely something.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re a puzzle. I’ve known you for two minutes and know so much and absolutely nothin’ at the same time. It’s weird.”

Spy doesn’t know how to respond to this, so he just sets his head on his knees and tries not to cry.

“And you’re cute.” Engineer smiles. Spy might have a stroke and die right here right now. “That certainly helps.”

He’s so caught up in it he hardly notices himself light on fire and, presumably, die at some point, since the next time he’s lucid he notices he’s sitting in the respawn room and his skin still tingles with burning.

… Well…

Maybe should never think about it again. That sounds like a good idea.

Maybe.

It takes him until he’s in bed at night struggling not to cry that he realizes, actually, this is probably really bad.

#tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 spy is a FUCKING SAD LITTLE NERD I WANT TO PUNT HIM ACROSS THE KICKBALL FIELD #bungus snippets #napoleon complex

[wonderwomanfantasy]

doggy style

sometimes I save a place holder title and I'm not chaining it this time.

Hound dog x Reader

Warnings: smut, idk what you want from me other than that

Word count: 1,000 (about)

Summary: OH NO ONLY ONE BED

Aizawa came back from the front desk, grim-faced. “Good news and bad news,” he sighed “the good news is they have enough room for all of us, the bad news is there are only five beds.” you looked around at the other heroes. Six of you in total.

“We’re all adults here, it won’t kill two of us to share a bed,” Midnight shrugged. “But that storm out there might,”

“Does that mean you’re offering to share a bed Nemuri?” Hizashi probed.

“Absolutely not, my beauty sleep is important I’m not letting anyone ruin that.”

“I don’t mind sharing a bed,” Printable Nezu spoke up. You all shared a meaningful look and decided that Nezu would be getting his own bed.

“What about you Shota? why don’t you just take the floor and use your sleeping bag?”

“I paid for all three rooms I’m getting my own bed.” Six heroes, five beds, three rooms, and one hell of a storm. You’d gotten the worst of the rain, and were soaked the bone, you just wanted a hot shower and a nice restful night, you really didn’t give a damn about the bed situation, and this arguing was getting you nowhere.

“Enough,” you said pulling out two pairs of cheap wooden chopsticks and snapping them into varying lengths. “Everyone draw straws, you’ll room with whoever you match with and if you draw the short stick you share have to share the bed alright?” you snapped jutting your fist out. Everyone quietly drew their sticks.

Nemuri and principal Nezu with the longest, Aizawa and Hizashi with the middle pair, you and Hound dog left with the literal short stick.

“There, no complaining,” you said then snatched the key from Shota marching to your room, not worrying about the bed situation right now, your mind only on dry clothes and a hot shower.

Now that you were actually in the bed with Hound dog, you were starting to see the problem. He was big, he took up almost all of the space on the queen-sized bed, even without trying. You were pressed against his chest, his bare chest. You tried not to let his closeness and his nakedness get to you. You were pretty sure he could smell it if you got turned on. You shifted in bed against him and your leg brushed against something long and hard. Oh.

“Sorry-” he hissed, your breath caught in your throat. “I can’t help it,” looks like neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight. There were a few long moments of silence as both of you steeped in your arousal. You couldn’t help but test the waters one more time, you moved your leg forward brushing against his rock-hard length. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of hiim.

“Now you’re just doing that on purpose,” he snapped.

“Maybe,” you admitted.

“The others will hear,” he groaned rocking his hips against your leg,

“Not if we’re quiet,” Aizawa and Hizashi slept like stones, and Nemuri and Nezu were across the hall.

“I don’t know if I can,” he breathed. He rolled on top of you, nuzzling the side of your neck. Pushing his big cock between your legs. He breathed in the scent of your arousal and gelt his cock twitch, aching to be freed. You reached between your two bodies pulling aside the sleep shorts you’d worn into bed and urging him to do the same. His cock was so big, you could feel it pressing against you. Staring against the layers of fabric that separated you two. He was going to destroy you.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathed, rubbing the entrance of your cunt with two of his thick fingers.

“I don’t mind the pain,” you said. Though you didn’t mind his warm rough fingers grazing your most sensitive parts, you were aching for his cock. “Ba a good boy and fuck me,”

That broke him. He growled against your throat and ripped something in his hurry to undress. He ran his fingers over your entrance collecting your essence and smearing it down the length of his cock before pushing in.

The sting of him pushing in brought tears to your eyes, you didn’t have to worry about keeping quiet because with one motion he’d ripped all air from your lungs.

“God,” he whispered, you were like a vice around his dick. Tight, warm, and wet. “I-I cant’ be gentle,” he said through gritted teeth, he was trying to hold himself back and be at least a little quiet but he didn’t know how much longer that would work for him.

“Don’t be,” you pressed. Hound dog had never been a gentle lover, even under the best of circumstances. He drew his hips back and slamming back inside of you so hard the bed rocked and slammed against the wall with a loud CRACK. Oh well, there was a storm tonight. It could have been thunder.

He kept pushing into you harder and harder until you were gasping for air, your cunt squelching around him. The bed squeaking and groaning with the effort. “G-good boy- good boy,” you praised as the tip of his dick slammed against your g-spot. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he lost control of his actions. Fucking you mindlessly.

“I’m a good boy I’m a good boy,” he groaned, he could feel your walls pulse around him, you were going to cum, you were going to cum around his cock and then he’d really lose it.

Your back arched off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m so close I’m so close,” you moaned.

“Cum for me, cum for me,” he chanted, snapping his hips back and forth even faster than before. Your muscles tensed you were right at the edge of your climax when there was a loud snap and the bed crashed to the floor sending you and him both rolling onto the floor. The bedframe cracked in half, one of the legs broken as well.

“shit,” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hound dog growled.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it right now, first you need to cum,” he decided climbing on top of you again.

#hound dog x reader #hound dog x reader smut #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia smut #only one bed

[sullustangin]

Efficiency

Rating:  T/M (violence)

Time: Nathema Conspiracy

Word Count: ~1000

This one’s for @thebreadtree and the searing guilt she endured when, for the sake of a character plotline, she sacrificed Theron.

**

Lana didn’t know what would happen now.

When they’d first arrived here, on Nathema, Eva hadn’t reappeared.  The Voidhound had stood silent and stared at Theron, eyes flat and undecipherable.  Lana was so angry at Theron, but she had also wanted to shake the Voidhound and demand that Eva be given back to her.

Lana was not a foolish Sith that let her passions dictate her actions.  So she hadn’t touched the Voidhound.  She had let Theron live. 

When they’d first arrived here, at Zildrog, Lana hadn’t even had time to draw her lightsaber.  Theron had pulled his blaster and shot Atrius through the shoulder, the flesh sizzling.  “Been wanting to do that for ages.”

The expression on his face – the rage that he never let out, because he was so well-trained -- That was what sealed it for Lana.  He had been telling the truth.

(But his fate might have already been sealed.)

She had listened to Theron as he sliced into the machine, to try to stop it --

The emotions of the moment, the fury of combat – that had distracted her as she had confirmed her kill on GEMINI-16, nudging smoldering metal heap with her boot –

She’d heard the drone of the saberstaff too late.  

Lana felt as if time crawled as she saw the blue light and opened her mouth to yell a warning.

The warning came too late. Silently, wordlessly, Theron took the light-blade of the saberstaff through the back and out through his chest. The olive-gold eyes flared as he understood his fate.  

But even as he slumped forward, Lana saw Theron’s hand grab for his datapad –

Finish the mission. Save her.

In his last desperate moments, Theron Shan had sent up a cry in the Force.

To her, of all people.

Atrius used the Force to yank him and toss him, like a broken toy soldier, away from the datapad.  

It was only as the body made contact with her that Lana realized she had been deliberately cleared from the board as well.  She struggled with the still-warm dead weight – she couldn’t bring herself to just shove --

Yellow electricity crackled and the machine gave a final great rumble. “It’s time to end this! Zildrog, lend me –”

ZAP

and then the sound of splatter on metal.  Atrius never finished the sentence.  

The body of the cult leader crumbled, the shoulders going slack and the knees buckling.  It pitched forward, and then another, quieter slosh as whatever had been left in the hollowed-out skull spilled out.  

Lana had always admired the efficiency of the Voidhound.  It never toyed with its prey before killing it. 

During the struggle with GEMINI-16, the hat had been torn off and destroyed, and the dark hair spilled out of its tight coil. The wisps at her temples stuck to her skin due to the sweat and humidity of Nathema.

The dark creature turned and immediately fired another fatal shot – right into the capacitor of the Zildrog machine, causing an overload.   The machine bemoaned its fate.  “S-SYSTEMS…FAILING…I SEE … D—DARKNESS…”

A vibration, a soft groan, a –

A spark of life.  A ripple in the Force.

Lana had done her stint in the Imperial military, and she’d kept up its physical fitness routine.  For her own doggedness, she thanked whatever still existed in the universe as she lifted Theron – not a body, Theron – off of her and set him beside her as gently as she could manage.

Almost on auto-pilot, Lana found herself running the medical subroutine on her datapad, as fast as her hands could move.  She saw the shadow loom.  “Theron’s still alive, but just barely.”

Lana dared to look up.

Eva wasn’t there.  But neither was the Voidhound.  Something else … no, someone else crouched to look at the fallen man, the information from the datapad –

And then a hand darted out to feel the pulse at the neck, somehow still going.

Theron opened his eyes at the familiar touch.  His head lolled, nerves trying to respond to orders, but so much damage.  He was still strong-willed; he forced himself to look at her, not Lana, even as his skin began to take on a grey overtone.

“We don’t have much time,” Lana said, eyes looking at the readout.  “Unless we get Theron to Odessen, he won’t make it.”

The dark eyes saw the same readout.  

To Lana’s horror, she stood up and walked away, but not far.  She holstered the blaster she’d used –

And drew out a different one, from an inside pocket of her coat.  

She had saved this one for a certain job.  

She checked the settings on it before adjusting her stance and letting the arm drop to ready position – drawn, not aimed yet.  

Now Lana did not admire the Voidhound and her lack of hesitation when it came to –

After so many months, Lana could no longer –

“Eva, please!” Lana Beniko, Sith Lord, begged.

The dark eyes gleamed at her once.  

Then the arm steadily rose, higher and higher.  

A short exhale from Theron, as he watched.

He understood.

He kept his eyes open.

The barrel passed him by.

And then she shot up into the sky –

A flare gun.  

Lana thought she was going to cry – a flare gun.  

And then, the voice.  “Bowdaar, on my mark – clearing just beyond the ruins. Have medbay ready.”

The Wookiee growled his acknowledgement, and she cut the comm.  

Then she looked over at Lana.  “If you thought I was going to leave our fate to your push-button shuttle, you’re crazy.”

And –

Eva smirked.

Then she was gone again.

She.. it turned and began a solitary march toward the landing zone, apparently scouted while brooding, behind Lana and Theron as they bickered.

Theron sent up a rasp as he –

“Oh by the Holy Stars, don’t move – or at least don’t move without my help.”

He nodded.  Despite his state, Theron’s lips curled upward, slightly, as he watched Eva go. In a hoarse, low voice, he said, “’s m’girl.”

Lana didn’t know if that would be true anymore, but she wasn’t going to ruin the moment.  “Let’s get you home.”

~~

@sarpndo as sort of a continuation from your ask from yesterday.

#swtor #swtor fan fiction #theron shan #lana beniko #theron shan x smuggler #vinn atrius #the nathema conspiracy #happy birthday eva #oc: eva corolastor