#eh that'll come later

[voltfruits]

*long sigh* okay, I guess I'm finally doing it. silly little omori AU time because I know how much we all love our silly little AUs in this fandom

short version: delinquent basil :)

long version: well, it's long. and it starts out just like the regular game does. Sunny gets frustrated with the violin, accidentally kills Mari, stages it as a suicide by Basil's suggestion, and so on. everything is the same.... until that fateful day when Aubrey goes to Basil's house.

Aubrey doesn't let Basil hide himself in the bathroom; she confronts him head-on, demanding to know why he's avoiding her. Basil starts to panic, but Aubrey softens, saying she cares about him and just wants to know what's wrong. feeling soothed, Basil brings out his photo album and tells her the truth. no, no, not the truth about Mari's death, but the truth about the album. he let Sunny borrow it so he could enjoy their old memories, but when he got it back, Sunny had blacked out all the photos. Basil explains that he's been so isolated lately because he's still in shock, despondent that his best friend would destroy something so valuable to him (i guess Basil is a little more sane in this AU in that he acknowledges Sunny's role in the tragedy rather than blaming his actions on "something behind him.") Aubrey is enraged by Sunny's behavior, but she offers to help clean the photos and promises to stick with Basil from then on.

so now Aubrey and Basil are besties, or kind of besties. Aubrey still has anger issues and gets very impulsive, sometimes lashing out at anything and everything for no reason, but she's very careful not to hurt Basil. and Basil latches on to Aubrey because she's all he has left, but he doesn't feel fully comfortable around her because he's sitting on the secret of what he did to Mari.

the two of them start getting into mischief together, cutting class and scrawling graffiti and stealing from convenience stores. well, mostly it's Aubrey doing all that, while Basil tags along and whimpers something about not wanting to get in trouble, but enjoying the thrill of rule-breaking all the same. they still make friends with Kim, Vance, and Charlie, but Aubrey and Basil have the strongest bond between them. they dye their hair together, Aubrey choosing pink and Basil pale lavender, to commemorate the promise Aubrey made with Mari.

Aubrey is still holding a grudge against Kel and Hero, but now she really hates Sunny's guts because of what he did to the photo album. Basil has basically blocked Kel and Hero out of his memory, and while he's upset with Sunny, he can't bring himself to hate him and still misses him a lot. he doesn't mention this to Aubrey because it's a really touchy subject.

as the years go by and Aubrey and Basil enter high school, their friendship gets even stronger. Basil finally matches Aubrey's confidence when it comes to breaking the rules. they're always by each other's side, holding hands and sneaking quick hugs in the stairwell between classes, spending the evenings in each other's houses smoking and snuggling and talking about the meaning of life. they're definitely in love but they're too shy to admit it to one another. unfortunately, all the other aspects of their lives fall to pieces: their grades plummet, and they're frequently getting into trouble at school; Basil's grandmother grows sicker, and Aubrey's parents grow more negligent and abusive, her home falling into disrepair. most importantly, Aubrey is still not over Mari's supposed suicide, because she thinks it's her own fault. Mari was a sister to her, practically a caretaker. if she hadn't been so needy and created so much work for Mari, she wouldn't have gotten overwhelmed and killed herself. the guilt eats away at her more and more with every passing year. she starts to see herself as a burden, a waste of space. her parents hate her and it's her fault. her old friends hate her and it's her fault. her life and Basil's life are going down the drain and it's her fault. she feels like she brings pain to everything she touches.

three years after Mari hung from her backyard tree, Aubrey attempts to do the same.

it's Basil who finds her and saves her, and tells her that she matters, and that she should never give up, no matter what.

in the weeks following Aubrey's suicide attempt, Basil realizes how far he's come with her. she means more to him than anyone or anything else. he can't bear to see her suffering and blaming herself for everything bad that's happened. he knows what he has to do.

one sunny afternoon, when it's just the two of them in the garden behind Basil's house, he tells Aubrey everything that happened the day Mari died.

he needs her to know the full truth. he knows it will hurt her, but he needs her to know that Mari's death isn't her fault. none of this is her fault.

Aubrey is shocked. then she's devastated. all she can do is cry. she doesn't know whether she wants to hug Basil or strangle him. he's her best friend. he's stupid, he's selfish, he's crazy, he's a sociopath. what he did was unforgivable, unthinkable. she needs time. she forces herself to stop crying, and she walks out. she doesn't think she'll ever see him again.

as she paces, agitated, through the streets of Faraway Town, she wonders what to do. kill herself. kill Sunny. kill Basil. move across the country. blow up the whole town. she's sixteen and her emotions are huge and real and so, so terrifying.

her body acts independently from her mind, taking her up the street to Mari's house. anything to be close to her again.

and who does she spot on the sidewalk?

... it's Kel, dragging along a half-awake Sunny, out of his house for the first time in years.

what happens next? we'll see :)

#omg this got so long. it's sooooo intense and also so much fun #whatever happens next is gonna be BAD btw #but the ending will be happy :) eventually :) #and yes there will be photobomb (and suntan) <3 #omori #omori au #hmmmm i need a catchy name for this don't i #eh that'll come later #aubrey omori #basil omori #omori photobomb #photobomb #volt.txt

[nostalgia-tblr]

#yeah it would have been very convenient for his brother robert #but - oh no! - it was also convenient for his other brother who immediately set off for the treasury and then a hasty coronation #(robert had fucked off on the first crusade that's why he wasn't in the right place at the right time) #(he later ends up imprisoned by his bro in a castle where he learns welsh and writes some poems) #(say what you will about henry 1st he was at least VERY good at getting things from his older brothers) #okay it might have been an actual genuine hunting accident but i only read about dead monarchs for THE DRAMA let me have this #i always enjoy when a history book gets to this point and you find out if the author thinks it was an accident or an “accident” #the normans are french vikings and i've yet to come across one whose name is actually norman #idk if that name existed then but *I* would have named at least one son 'Norman of Normandy' just for giggles #btw every famous woman of this era is called Matilda. all of them. there's battles between competing English queens called Matilda. #i have yet to come across any explanation of why this is. i assume there's an OG Matilda who's famous maybe? possibly a saint? #(there *is* one called Edith too... but then she changes her name to Matilda) (no really) (and it's her husband's mother's name) #idk how you're supposed to write Norman Monarchy Femslash when all the women have the same name #what if i want to read about Queen Matilda's epic forbidden love for her husband's arch-enemy Queen Matilda? eh? eh? EH??? #i should probably come up with a tag for my history-related nonsense i wouldn't want people to find it who seek Sensible Thoughts #history fandom #(there that'll do for a tag)

[eldritch-spouse]

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

#Sever oc #terato tag #monsterfucker #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster x reader #monster x you #minors dni #not sfw

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: It hits so different when the real deal's right in front of me! I can feel my power level rising just by basking in these creators' true art!!

Summon Line: Phone's switched off while in the museum. I don't gotta worry about the daily missions on my mobile games, since I've cleared them all already. 'K, time to get going.

Groooovy!!: Everyone has a weakness or two. Obviously, that includes immortal heroes, too... Heehee.

Home: 100 years, not bad...

Home Idle 1: I can basically draft up designs and blueprints of tech systems using software, but when it comes to actually doing art... Basically, I'm more of a read-only type lurker.

Home Idle 2: That sleepy looking King of Beasts painting kind of reminds me of Leona-shi. Especially how it looks like he could pounce at any moment despite looking like he's not paying any attention.

Home Idle 3: I was surprised that I could buy whatever design of postcards I wanted from the shop. I'm so used to it just being something like 3 random cards in a pack out of a possible 50 or whatever...

Home Idle - Login: Hoards of art made by top-tier artists! Seeing it live is just a whole different sensation! Time'll just fly by here... I wonder if I can see 'em all.

Home Idle - Groovy: Crazy how Silver-shi can just spam the "praise" button over and over again without any charge time needed... I got no defenses on how to deal with this sort of thing.

Home Tap 1: If everything in life could be fixed just by singing Hakuna Matata, then I'd be a bright little extrovert by now...

Home Tap 2: I thought there was some sort of sparkling statue at the entrance to the cafe, but it was just Vil-shi checking out the menu.

Home Tap 3: So, it's true, then, that Ace-shi's got super nimble fingers? Not fair at all that on top of being a smooth-talker, he's also got that kinda dexterity.

Home Tap 4: This fit... It's way to shimmery for a gloomy guy like me... Eh, it works? U-Uh huh... Okay.

Home Tap 5: What do you want? If you want to try to get in the way of my nerd out, you're just asking to get your forehead flicked! And I'll be the one who has to do the flick... I bet you feel bad now, huh?

Home Tap - Groovy: C-Can you help me carry the merch I got from the shop to the storage lockers? Th-Thx... I'll grab you a coffee later.

Duo: [IDIA]: Silver-shi, thx. [SILVER]: Aye, Idia-senpai!

Birthday Login Message: Siiiigh... As expected, I didn't win a greeting from Premo's birthday present campaign. Looks like, as always, I'm just a poor soul that'll only get birthday wishes from my family and my games... EEK!? WHEN DID YOU GET HERE!? Eh, you came to wish me a happy birthday? I-Is that so...? Well, thanks. Wheehee.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud #silver #twst idia #twst silver #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: leona #mention: vil #mention: ace

[mikareo]

⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ SERIAL ROMANTIC ; gojo satoru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode one ! ꒱ . . . word count; 1.2k ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ remember when we first met?

⊹ ⠀⠀ you might possibly be the least helpful person in the world when it comes to making a hinge profile...gojo can attest to that.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, university (year 2) au, fluff, gojo's a dick, swearing, best friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

"y'know, i'd appreciate it if you could help at least a little bit."

gojo can feel your hard glare targeting him, piercing into his skull like a red laser beam, yet still chooses to ignore you. he doesn't understand why you can't just finish unpacking later. you're kind of being a buzzkill. yes, he'd be a better friend if he continued to help you unpack your boxes and organize your cluttered dormitory; but he's got more important things to do. things that require his complete and utmost attention. things that are life or death on a college campus. things that will make or break his entire young adult experience...

...things like finishing his hinge profile!

"i promise— wait no. i pinky promise i'll put all of your shit away later, just tell me which photos to pick for this prompt, i'm stuck." he's begging and pleading for you to focus on him, which isn't unusual when dealing with a narcissist such as himself. c'mon. c'mon. gojo knows exactly how to win you over. it really isn't that hard. all he has to do is beg and whine a little, give you some puppy dog eyes, and you'll do whatever he says! there's no way he's actually going to put all of your clothes away; that'll take like...forever.

with an eye roll in response to the cheer of joy gojo lets out, you set your boxes to the side and lay beside him on the carpet. he can feel your nose tickling his neck as you lean close to see his screen, and he wonders why his heart skips a beat. eh, it's probably nothing.

"this is so dumb, satoru." you point to his screen, your finger directed at his favorite prompt so far.

don't hate me if i: have blue eyes

"okay, wait!" he flicks your forehead, laughing as you pout, and clicks on the 'add image' prompt. "it's like a thing now! girls hate guys with baby blues like mine!" being handsome is so hard nowadays.

if he asked anyone at jujutsu university who the biggest player on campus is, they'd name him off without blinking twice. while only being a freshman last year, gojo managed to become a household (or a dorm-hold?) name that'll be talked about for years after he graduates. there may be a possibility he's either flirted or made out with every girl in his graduating class, not including you, all in one school year. without the use of dating apps, he went on a total of eighty-seven first dates from august to june; albiet seeing a few girls more than a few times for some special alone time, if you get what he means; and he had the absolute time of his life and needs to recreate that thrill again.

"you don't need an app to get girls, you get plenty already."

ugh why do you always have to rain on his parade?

"obviously i don't need an app, but it's way more fun this way." he argues, "imagine if i hit a hundred first dates before may. i'd break last year's record."

"and why are you getting so butt-hurt about my dating life?" he's treading into dangerous territory. the two of you never talk about your romantic experiences, considering you never want to talk about them with him. "it's not my fault you had a total of...hm what was it? zero dates last year?"

"just find a fucking photo and get this over with."

yeah, your love life is off limits...

a chuckle rumbles from his throat as gojo continues scrolling through his camera roll, searching for a photo that screams 'boyfriend material'...or to be more specific 'one night stand material'. while he's searching for a photo that'll make girls want to sleep with him, he doesn't notice that his brightest smiles only appear in the photos with you. then again, he never notices you; and if he ever did, it's unlikely he'd date you anyways. you're his best friend. he doesn't want to ruin that. he can't ruin that, because then he'd have to imagine a life without you in it.

a particular picture stands out from the rest, and you choose to point it out. it's the two of you in your high school uniforms, standing side-by-side beneath the cherry blossoms after your third year graduation ceremony. his hair is slightly shorter and his height hadn't reached its full potential yet, but you look absolutely adorable— almost like a kitten that he's protecting from the no-good boys of the world (technically he belongs in that category, but that's besides the point).

"do you remember when we first met?" a soft hum is murmured in his ear and gojo finds the sound quite comforting.

he thinks for a moment, completely blanking as the memory escaped his mind, and takes a random guess. "middle school? english class?"

the look of disappointment on your face immediately tells him he's wrong.

"look it was a really long time ago, i know that at least." no amount of excuses will make up for his awful recollection, but he tries nonetheless. gojo satoru is a shitty friend. that's just how it is. you both know it and he tries his best to be better for you, however, he can't help the way he is. some boys are born to be boys. "i'm trying my best—"

"it's alright, just stop."

you're so upset.

"there are more important things to remember, really it's fine."

why are you so upset?

"i'm sorry," he mumbles. this feeling of guilt isn't familiar to gojo and he can't help but hate it. "i'll try to remember."

what is it that you were trying to reminisce about? he wants to know but he shouldn't pry any more, you're clearly done with the conversation and want to move on with a concentrated thinking face gracing your features. you look pretty. woah. you look really pretty. he's never thought that before. why hasn't he noticed before? suddenly, the thought of however many hinge girls want him isn't very appealing and he just wants to make you smile again. you're so pretty when you smile. his heart is beating ten times faster than usual and he's urging it to calm down, but it won't.

...maybe that's a good thing, though.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

#i.e. seasons of love #୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅ my writing #gojo x reader #gojo fanfiction #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo ff #gojo fanfic #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk #jjk ff #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔼𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ not a request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another fic just for myself to enjoy! Honestly somehow I'm just a bit fan of Lyney with emotionless!reader/reader who has trouble showing emotions, and I couldn't find fic like that anywhere so... I made it! ^^ It feels so short but... I had fun!

I simp for Lyney sm I had to

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ even before you two got together Lyney as a magician, naturally wanted to being at least a small smile to your face

✧ but when he did his bestest tricks and saw no emotion... he got a bit stressed... maybe you'd crack a smile or surprise at his performance at the opera?

✧ he definitely gave you free ticket at least first time and for the whole show, his eyes were on you. And if he was in the box, Lynette had her eye on you so she could later tell her brother if you crack an emotion

✧ the problem he had with you made you meet more and more often, and before he knew it, he fell for you!

✧ when you finally got together, not much changed except he only tried more

✧ now he me may even get a little jealous if you smile at someone else! Unless it'll be at the movie you're watching with him, then he won't mind that much

✧ but he's not showing you tricks 24/7, it'd loose it's charm so quickly!

✧ instead he does like a big and unexpected trick every month and small one trick daily

"And wuala! Rabbit just for you~ I know how much you wanted so... Eh?! Just thanks and no smile?! That's alright. I'll just have to prepare something better next time~"

✧ but just know this man won't give up at trying his best at making you smile, you're now his motivation to become the best magician in Teyvat that'll be able to make even you smile

✧ but he won't force you, he wants to see genuine smile and not the fake one, he might even see through your act and call you out on that, not in a mean way but in a "I won't accept faking!" way

✧ if he does somehow succeed at making you smile, you'll see the cutest smile on his face and he may even cry from happiness a bit!! so just let him hug you for a minute or hour after such a win

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your charming magician~

#genshin #genshin impact #x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney #lyney x reader #genshin lyney x reader #genshin lyney #fluff #genshin fluff #headcanons #genshin headcanons

[leathfaic]

"So what do ye eat then, when ye get the choice?" Soap is opening two bottles of beer handing one over to Ghost. He's clueless about what to cook for dinner, might as well ask Simon for some input.

"Chicken and rice. Or I order something." Ghost's tone is nonchalant as he studies the label of the beer he was just handed and Soap decides immediately that he's not gonna follow the plain suggestion actually. He's on leave and deserves some flavour in his food, thank you very much.

"Single malt whisky cask matured?" Ghost' sounds slightly disbelieving. "That is very Scottish.", or disapproving, who knew with the English.

So Soap just snorts, "Had to get ye some of the local stuff, eh? If ye behave ah'll make sure we get some of the beer with tea in for ye." 

At that Simon, who was sniffing his beer, looks up, pure horror in his eyes and Soap's snort evolves into a full-on cackle. 

He catches himself a moment later, inspecting the almost pouting look behind the mask and decides to drop the topic for now. Instead, he raises his bottle at Simon, "To leave, aye?".

Ghost does the same, their bottles clinking. 

"Cheers."

"Slàinte Mhath." 

Crisp and cold. Fuck he'd missed beer. Missed a lot of things during that last OP. Food that tasted like actual food was one, bringing him back to his original line of questioning. It shouldn't be surprising that Ghost is not into cooking. He's the only person Soap has ever seen eating anything from the mess with true enthusiasm. Sorts his MREs by how much he likes them too when he thinks no one is looking. Always eating the best first.

"Not much of a cook then?" he keeps his tone light and innocent while sipping his beer. Trying to observe Simon's reactions without making him feel watched.

"I can handle meat," There's a stupid smirk traded between them and Soap would roll his eyes if he didn't have to reign himself in, immediately set ablaze by the stupid joke.

"Learned at a butchers before I joined." Ghost offers up by way of explanation, sounding almost sad. Something must've happened there, something that had Simon ending up in the force. Something that led to him becoming Ghost.

"Well perfect, I'm not terrible but I do handle meat way better in the bedroom." Soap winks at him and this time, to make sure the innuendo lands painfully enough to pull Ghost out of his head. 

It does and earns him an exasperated look. Might have convinced him if those brown eyes weren't full of fondness. 

He's gonna leave Ghost with the belief that he's not learning to see behind the mask for a little longer: Wants him to feel comfortable. No need to divulge that his tone clearly betrayed that he's got no idea how to cook apart from putting some meat into a pan and put all his hope into some cook in bags. Lots of people couldn't cook, it wasn't a big deal.

Only that it is not just that. From the few things he's told Soap about himself, it makes sense, in a sad way.

Simon, who confronts being gay like being in battle, all hyper-masculine energy focused on fighting through all the hurtful stereotypes and insults his father planted in his head, probably never got to do a lot of things that weren't 'manly'. Makes him wonder where the needle skills come from but only for a split second before he decides he's gonna do something about this then.

"So what is yer favourite food then?" 

"Don't really 'ave one." the stoic bastard answers and Soap has to think about the MREs but also has no trouble believing that that is a luxury the other man doesn't allow himself to ponder. Thinks he doesn't deserve it.

Not that'll stop him. Quite the opposite, now he's motivated.

"Alright, anythin ye could be doin with right now?" 

He watches Ghost's eyes dart through the kitchen seemingly looking for a clue. Bouncing of cabinets and shelves before he takes a swig of his beer.

"No." he finally answers, sounding like he's withdrawing into himself again. For fucks sake.

Soap smiles at him hiding his exasperation away before it can reach his face, doesn't need his emotions to make this harder on both of them. 

"Well too bad, yer at ma mercy." He lets his smile dip into something devilish and revels in the note of alarm in Simon's lovely eyes. It's quickly replaced with confusion as Soap presses a knife into his hands. He stands there, looking for all accounts like a very misplaced ghoul. Very deadly but also kinda endearing.

"Ye can cut the onion, garlic, are chilis fine with ye? If so, cut two of those too and make sure ye wash yer hands after tha'. 

They work in silence for a moment, Ghost's dutifully following Soap's command without any complaints. When Soap begins to sear the meat he explains what he's doing and asks for input from Ghost. He's rewarded with warm surprise on the mostly masked features before Ghost starts talking, softer than his usual tone when he's guiding Soap through something job-related, becoming almost reverent when he sees Soap adjust to what he just said. And Soap tries to be careful with his usual ribbing jokes, not wanting to disturb the equilibrium that is Ghost relaxing in his flat.

When the other ingredients are added he takes over again. Talking the lieutenant through the process. Explaining his steps when he knows why they're important and freely admitting defeat when he doesn't. 

They drink their beers and cook, Ghost once more following every step that Soap lays out for him and Soap silently trying to impress him. Not that he was gonna admit that to either himself or anyone else.

"Who taught you all tha'?", they're just waiting for the pasta now, the sauce down and bubbling away on low heat, leaning against each other, Soaps head resting on Ghost's shoulder. Outright domestic. 

"Ma grannie," Soap smiles fondly at the memory of the tiny woman with her sincere blue eyes. "Told me being a lad was no excuse and Ah'd better know ma way around a kitchen for ma future burd." he winks at Ghost who goes surprisingly red surprisingly fast clearly visible even behind the mask. "When Ah told her Ah'm a buftie she doubled down. Ian she said, refused to call me John ye see forever angry tha' ma da went with the anglicised version, anyways, Ian she said if ye're bringing home another man one of ye will need to know how to cook or for all yer gay love ye'll focking starve." he can almost hear hear as his accent gets thicker and something between wild joy and bottomless sorrow tears through his chest at the memory.

There's a beat of silence before a weird noise breaks it. It's a rough quick sound and it takes Soap a second to realise that Simon just snorted. 

"Well thank fuck for grandma MacTavish and her foresight!" he pulls his almost empty beer bottle into the air dramatically and they toast again. 

Soap's smile is wide, imagining what his nan's reaction to Ghost would've been. 

They might have gotten on entirely too well. 

#ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod hc #I'll be probably putting that in one of my fics on ao3 at some point #but we'll see #enjoy the domestic thoughts #also no soap will never again stop with the “meat handling” jokes in bed #simon regrets ever telling him #and proceeds to shut him up with said skills (not the ones he learned during his apprenticeship)

[somerandomwizard]

Hazbin Hotel Incorrect Quotes Pt. 2

Molly: You have to apologize to Anthony.

Arackniss: Ugh, fine.

Arackniss @ Angel: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

---

Angel: If you can't beat them, dress better than them.

---

'Can I copy the homework?'

Charlie, Molly, Niffty: I can help you with it!

Crymini: Yeah, sure

Angel, Cherri, Lucifer: Bold of you to assume I did the homework

Alastor, Husk, Vaggie: lol Nope

Sir Pentious, Tom Trench: Wait, we had homework???

Katie Killjoy, Arackniss, Henroin, Lilith, Baxter:*Read 5:55pm*

---

Charlie: Violence isn't the answer.

Alastor: You know what, my dear? You're right.

Charlie: *sighs in relief*

Alastor: Violence is the question.

Charlie: What?

Alastor, pulling out a knife and looking at Angel: And the answer is YES.

Charlie, running after him: NO-

---

Husk: With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.

---

Valentino, holding an antique bottle: Is this whisky or perfume?

Velvette: *chugs entire bottle*

Velvette: It's perfume.

---

*Cherri and Angel sitting in jail together*

Cherri: So, who should we call?

Angel: I'd call Vaggie, but I feel safer in jail.

---

Vox: Hey, Val, what kind of flowers do you like?

Val: Sunflowers.

Vox, pulling out a bouquet of Venus Flytraps: Well, shit-

---

Niffty, taping a knife onto a Roomba: Be free, my child.

Husk, entering with a small cut on his ankle: Who the f-

---

Rosie: How do you connect with a fictional character?

Alastor: What?

Mimzy: What?

Husk: What?

Niffty: *pulls up a 500 slide presentation* I'm glad you asked.

---

Aracknniss: Do you ever get pre-annoyed? Like you already know someone is going to piss you off?

Vaggie: What? No, I-

*Angel enters the room*

Arackniss & Vaggie: *jaw clenches*

---

*when the squad drops food on the ground*

Alastor: Eh, oh well.

Charlie: FIVE SECOND RULE!

Husk: FUCK!

Vaggie: *just gets more food*

Niffty: *drops to her knees and mourns the food*

Angel: *eats the food off the ground*

---

Angel: What if Cinderella was a baking slave instead of a cleaning slave, and her name was Mozzarella?

Arackniss: Don't ever speak to me again.

---

Alastor: Underestimate me. That'll be fun.

---

Charlie: Oh fiddlesticks.

Alastor: Look, I know this is a a tense situation, but let's watch the fucking language.

---

Angel: Vaggie has no idea I'm high.

Vaggie: YOU'RE HIGH?!

Angel: Oh, I'm sorry.

Angel, leaning over to Husk: Vaggie has no idea I'm high.

---

Husk: We're playing scrabble. It's a nightmare.

Alastor: Scrabble? But Scrabble's great.

Husk: Not when you're playing with NIffty, it's not. She puts words like 'ephemeral' and I put 'dog'.

---

Charlie: Is that a gun?!

Angel: It's not what it looks like!

Charlie: It looks like a gun!

Angel: Okay, maybe it is what it looks like, but in my defense, it doesn't have anymore bullets, so I technically can't shoot anymore.

Charlie: ...ANYMORE?!

---

Okay, I know that Vaggie is a Lesbian and Angel is gay, but I just love this ship. Please don't attack me.

Angel: Can you at least cut me some slack, Vags? I'm sort of in love.

Vaggie: I'm sorry, but that's not my problem.

Angel: I'm in love with you.

Vaggie, now blushing: O-oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

---

Charlie: Hey Angel? Can I get some dating advice?

Angel: Just because I'm with Vaggie doesn't mean I know how I did it.

#Charlie Morningstar #Vaggie #Angel Dust #Alastor #Husk #husk hazbin hotel #Niffty #molly hazbin hotel #Arackniss #Crymini #Cherri Bomb #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #Lilith Morningstar #lilith hazbin hotel #sir pentious #Henroin #Katie Killjoy #Tom Trench #Valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #Vox #Velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel incorrect quotes #Incorrect Quotes #vaggie x angel dust #Spidermoth #Baxter

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

S2 Ep14 of TBB Thoughts!!

oh frick, oh darn, oh heck

HOWZER HOWZER HOWZER HOWZER HOWZER HOWZER HOWZER HOWZER

I need to stop eating breakfast while I watch these eps, eventually im gonna gasp so hard I'll choke on some food (this is based on me almost choking on my food when HOWZER showed up)

So I knew Echo'd be in this one, but I was actually also a 100% Rex would be there too, so I was a little bummed about that? like why would they release Rex's poster now if he isn't gonna be in the ep? and like ik this is a show about the batch, so they wanna show off Echo and I love that for him bc I love Echo but like,,, Rex🥺 yanno?

that being said, Echo and his team infiltrating that ship, fcking GREGOR?? amazing, loving that shit, eating it up

another suicide? this is getting intense. like this season has given us deeply seeded political issues about clone rights, depictions of blood, brainwashing and two suicides?? like??? things are heating up, the writers are getting more real and I actually kinda,,, love that even though its intense

CROSS MY BOY🥺🥺🥺🥺

clone sipping coffee :)

ye :)

me @ howzer:

he knows someone, eh? THAT'LL BE MY MANS TECH :DDDD

ofc he snatched the gun, you rlly coulda seen that one coming dipstick

it struck me as really odd that Crosshair didn't shoot the female doctor. like the rest of the batch and most of the clones use stun guns ALL THE TIME whereas Crosshair has always shot to kill. again, "severe and unyielding", meaning he takes intense action, committing all the way all the while being so stubborn he hardly ever backs down. honestly, him sparing her is some serious character development. he recognised she was being kind to him and he decided that that was enough reason not to hurt her. either that, or he wanted to abuse her kindness later on

he never wanted to get out, he just wanted to warn his brothers, which is AGAIN SO DIFFERENT from the Cross we've gotten to know in these last two seasons. I actually don't think that's growth anymore. that's Crosshair standing by a choice that he knew was bad for far too long (SEVERE. AND. UNYIELDING.) and now finally admitting he was wrong and going back to what he always wanted and always knew to be right.

ALSO I JUST WITNESSED CROSSHAIR MISS A SHOT TWICE LIKE WTH??? THAT'S NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE

partially rebuilt Pabu :)))

Hunter being questioned abt being more than just a soldier lol

like sir, the answer is "I am dad, actually."

TECH AND OMEGA FLYING TOGETHER

CACKLING

HE ADJUSTED HIS GOGGLES TWICE IN LIKE 3 MINUTES

HE LOOKED LIKE HE WAS FEARING FOR HIS LIVE I AM DYING WITH LAUGHTER FCK

"Up. Up! Up, Omega, pull up!" <- im sorry but Tech's always been just,,, so cool in stressful situations, like almost dying, no biggie. falling out of the sky in a storage box and having a heavy object crush your leg, naaahh we got this. fcking staring a Zillo Beast dead in the eye as it growls at you, easy as pie. omega's flying? panic

"The Tech-Turn? really?" "Now that is not what it is called, but I rather like it. I suggest you proceed before I come to my sen-- AAAAAHHHH."

D Y I N G

did Echo only race Omega to torture Tech? yes, why do you ask?

okay listen I love him, but without his kama Echo looks half naked

TECH FCKING STUMBLING OUT THE SHIP I CAN'T

HUGGIES!!!! ECHO AND OMEGA HUGGIES!! :DDDDD

hmmm the summit huh??? interesting

Tech sounded so worried when he called Hunter over??? waaaaaahhh

Hemlock? more like Hemcock (yes I've been waiting a while to make that joke leave me alone)

YES CROSS IS WARNING YOU. NO HUNTER YOU CAN TRUST HIM GO AFTER HIM GO FIND YOUR BROTHER HE NEEDS YOUR HELP GODDAMN WAAAAAAAAAAAHGGH

Crosshair being offered his freedom and just stubbornly staring back? Severe and unyielding hero edition. I love him, Hunter go get him pls he needs you.

help why did this one feel so short

#THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD EP #like I still wished rex woulda been in there but yanno #cross made up for it #and Tech finally loosing his cool once and the fact that it was Omegas flying that did it #but damn #like #damn #anyway #star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #sw #tbb #sw tbb #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb omega #captain howzer #tbb s2 #tbb s2 spoilers #tbb spoilers #clones

[sunberry-strawflower]

#curtissonweek2023

I have no excuse for being hella late. I was just procrastinating throughout the whole day😭😭I finished it thoo

This work is, like the last three, an entry for @blue-fanlady's curtisson week!

This one is just little over 1k words domestic curtisson where they literally share a house and everything and yet they're not married?? 🤨🤨 yea I'm gonna have to call bullshit (but yea I didn't make them married in this story sorry)

ALSO I'm just as tired as them in this story rn and I'm not gonna lie I wrote parts of this fanfic half asleep so‼️‼️whoops ‼️‼️I'll proofread once I wake up cause a little after I post this I'm going to bed (at...7am HEDJHFJR)

Word count: 1.2k

Curtisson Week Day 4: Sleeping

Burt was sitting on the couch in the living room of he and Sven's shared house with a book in hand. He had it open, but wasn't really paying too much attention to the story. It was mostly just to pass the time as he waited for Sven to come home from work. He looked back at his watch. 9:43pm. That's around the time Sven got off, so he should be home soon.

Burt was lucky enough to be sent off of work early. Though he was kind of upset at the same time because usually he and Sven got out of work around the same time (Sven getting out about 30 minutes after him), so he never had to wait too long for him. This time, though, he was sent off three hours earlier than he usually was. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't question it. Time off work is time off work.

Though…maybe he should've offered to work the three hours anyway. Just so he'd have something to do.

Sven and Burt had moved in together fairly recently, so while all the necessary stuff were set, such as cooking supplies, a bed, a couch, dressers, etc, etc., they were still lacking some things that they were planning on getting once they had the time.

For now, though, most things involving entertainment weren't present. Aside from like, his phone and a few books. Which he was usually alright with. He was content just sitting there, drinking his morning coffee on their porch. "Like an old man." Sven would say. But it wasn't morning, nor was it really the time for you to be chilling out on your porch. Way too cold at night.

He was feeling a little tired, but he didn't want to sleep without his boyfriend in his arms, and chances are Sven felt the same way. Though, maybe doing a relaxing activity such as reading wasn't helping his case much. But eh, nothing much else to do that'll keep him distracted.

He decided that he might as well take a shower while he waited, so he set the hardcover down on the coffee table and went into their bedroom to pick out pyjamas. A loose orange shirt and pants fit nicely. He added some matching socks there too, for extra comfort.

Once he got in and out of the shower, he put his comfy pyjamas on, and went back into the living room. He sat back on the couch and tried to read the book again. It wasn't a bad story by any means, just not what he was in the mood for. Which he finally realized and decided to just scroll through his phone instead.

A few minutes later, he heard the front doorknob rattling and assumed that it was Sven. He turned off his phone, putting it on the coffee table in front of him, and looked towards the front door expectantly. He let a gentle smile appear on his face when he saw Sven walk in, closing the door behind him. “Oh, welcome back,” he said. “How was work?”

Sven moved to sit next to Burt on the couch. “It was fine,” he sighed. “How was yours?”

“The usual,” Burt replied. "Are you up for dinner?" He asked, tilting his head over at Sven.

Sven shook his head. "Too tired…can we just go straight to bed?"

Burt smiled softly at that and nodded. "Of course." He then stood up, expecting the other to follow him to their bedroom, which he did. They walked in and Burt turned on the lights so they could see better.

Sven flopped down face first on the bed, groaning as he hit the sheets, letting said sheets suppress his voice a little.

"Hey, hey, you have to at least take a shower first," Burt chuckled, gently lifting Sven up from the bed. The other grunted once more, but reluctantly agreed. He'd feel a lot more comfortable after a shower anyway. "I already took mine, so I'll just wait for you, yeah?"

Sven nodded, and waited for Burt to leave the room so he could have some privacy.

Burt patiently waited outside of their bedroom door, letting Sven finish doing his thing.

About 10 minutes later, he heard the clear. "Okay, you can come in now."

Burt opened the door and stepped back in, greeted with Sven looking much more comfortable. And adorable. "There you go. Let's get to bed, then." Ah, yes. The moment they've both been waiting for.

Burt turned out the lights and took Sven with him on the bed. He took his headphones and top hat off, putting them on top of the nightstand. Sven had taken off his own hat right after getting out of the shower so he didn't worry about it. They were both under the covers, lying next to each other. They were pretty close together already, but apparently that wasn't enough for Sven and he slid closer to Burt, before mildly gripping onto his shirt.

"Someone's clingy." He teased, leaving the other flustered. Burt couldn't help but snicker at this. His boyfriend had always been easy to tease. He never overdid it, though. Just whenever he really wanted to see his reaction. And Sven delivered every time.

Sven looked up at him, his cheeks pink from the proximity and the teasing. He stopped gripping on his shirt for a minute, instead just laying his palms on top of his chest. He kept letting his gaze wander to Burt's lips, and couldn't resist kissing him right then and there.

Burt was taken aback by the sudden kiss, but he wasn't complaining. Not at all. He closed his eyes and kissed back, letting his hand slide up into Sven's hair, twirling it around his fingers.

Sven found Burt playing in his hair to be very relaxing, and kept the kiss going for a little longer. He loved nights like these, where he could just lay down, cuddling and kissing his boyfriend after a long day of work. Without a care in the world. It felt amazing.

Unfortunately, the kiss had to come to an end eventually. Especially whenever a thing called oxygen existed. They both pulled away, letting out a soft breath as they did so.

Burt had stopped running his fingers through Sven's hair, now just resting his hand on his head. Sven buried his face into Burt's neck. "Can you…keep doing that?" He whispered into the crook of his neck.

Burt raised an eyebrow. "Doing what?" He asked.

"Combing your fingers in my hair…" he replied. "It feels nice."

Now it was Burt's turn to get flustered. Thank God Sven couldn't see the pink in his face, but perhaps he could tell anyway and he was just too sleepy to care or say anything.

"Okay…" he obliged and started to run his fingers through the others' hair again. His hair was always soft and well-kempt, making it nice to play with.

Sven relaxed even more than he already was, which was good for both him and Burt. It was nice seeing him not so tense.

Sven then placed a soft kiss on Burt's neck. Then another, and another. At first Burt tensed up from how sudden it was, but he slowly relaxed himself. Sven planted one more soft kiss onto his neck before nuzzling into it.

They both felt themselves begin to drift off. Neither of them tried to fight it. They let themselves fall into a deep sleep.

_______________________________________________________

So sleepy 💤💤 sleepy bfs :]

#I honestly spent more time thinking abt this fic than writing it #they live in my head send help #I love them #while I was procrastinating I was listening to pjsk right #catching up on the events and stuff #and WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME TAIGA MADE A SONG CALLED THIS IS WHERE YOU ARE CAUCASIAN #FOR THE VBS EVENT #I'M SCREAMINFNDJHD #no wonder toya's dad didn't want him to do street music #I'm getting off topic #thsc #the henry stickmin collection #sven svensson #burt curtis #curtisson #henry stickmin collection #curtissonweek2023 #cross posted on ao3

[purplekoop]

So today's big new idea is for Harmony's weapon. The original idea was for her to have some kind of vague sound blaster that shot slow but big projectiles, like Lucio's gun but with only a single shot per click, and a charge shot alt fire that used more ammo to release a piercing slash of sound. This felt too aimless but was on the right track in theory. Later on I changed it to a boombox hammer, which was a fun mental visual but felt too polarizing to limit her to a primarily melee character. She'd still have the charge slash as the alt fire, which would in theory not make her totally limited at a distance, but it still didn't feel right.

So third try is more similar to the first, but with something to make it stand out and make her kit less polarized than melee-only but still limited in range. This idea being:

The Amp Cannon.

This loudspeaker-like firearm blasts out conical sound waves that damage all enemies in its range. Enemies closer to the center of the blast take more damage, and the blast has a hard finite range. "Shotgun" is the best word for how it'd feel to use, but doesn't exactly explain how it functions. It does have a standard ammo capacity of 4, 6, or 8 shots that are reloaded all at once., not exactly sure what number for reasons that'll make more sense soon.

The defining feature of the weapon is its firing rate and the unique mechanic it comes with. After firing a shot, the gun takes a moment to recharge, similar to Illari's. You can fire it again early, but doing so results in less damage. These partial shots have their uses, like for finishing off an enemy you just barely didn't finish off with your last shot, but the spam shot DPS would be comparable to or worse than waiting for full charge shots, with the downside of needing to reload much more. However, there's a sweetspot where you fire almost instantly as the shot is fully charged for maximum damage, and minimizing your downtime and firing these shots at just the perfect time will have a subtle bonus effect:

Rhythm, baby

The weapon's sounds are made so that perfectly timing your shots has an audible rhythm to it. Getting a good rhythm has a minor but handy bonus effect, where after firing a full clip of shots with good enough rhythm, you reload your next clip almost instantly for uninterrupted firing.

Worth noting that Harmony's existing Feedback lifesteal mechanic is still in tact with this weapon, making good use of it directly beneficial to her survival. The rest of her kit is also largely unchanged, except for the fact that her Null Wave projectile-deletion ability is now this weapon's alt fire rather than separately based on her Accessory of choice. Felt it made sense to make the sound blasts come from the same thing. The big difference now is that it also does damage to enemies it passes through in addition to deleting projectiles, letting it act as Harmony's longest ranged attack. This does however leave her without an Accessory slot now, which I'm currently lacking any great ideas for. She already has two attacks and two defensive options, so not sure what she's lacking that wouldn't make her feel too overbearing. Eh, I'll think of something eventually.

Also naturally already got some vague cool ideas for alt weapon concepts that play further with both the rhythm mechanic and the alt fire's utility, but alt weapons are always easiest for me to figure out when I can freely write in my design doc, so they'll have to wait.

Also considering other touch-ups to older characters soon, either visually or mechanically. Formann still needs his whole kit reevaluated, but some characters like Yanno could use some heavy work on the design front. In his case specifically "heavy" is a double meaning, since I feel like him being sort of a little guy is redundant with some other designs and doesn't fit his current kit and stats as a guy who can take some explosions to the face... or feet.

Until then though!

#war bots #harmony war bots #koop's oc stuff

[imagines-fandom-backup]

Chapter 2.1

Masterlist

Warnings- Usual PB violence, swearing, allusion to SA at the very end

2 years later

All of us were gathered around Freddie's casket. Tommy stepped forward. "I promised my friend, Freddie Thorne, that I would say a few words over his grave if he should pass before me. I made this promise before he became my brother-in-law, when we were in France, fighting for the king. And in the end, it wasn't war that took Freddie. Pestilence took him. But Freddie passed on his soul and his spirit to a new generation before he was cruelly taken." The service ended right after that.

I took a little walk with Thomas and Ada. 

"We thought now that Freddie's gone, you might come back to Birmingham."

"We really miss you, Ada."

"God, do you know how funny it is that Tommy's got chauffeurs in uniform now?"

"It's just for the occasion."

"Do you know how unfair it is that you have 4 Bugattis when half the country's starving?"

"So now they've made you ashamed of us, eh?" We stopped walking.

"Sometimes when I think about how I used to be, it makes me embarrassed." Tommy and I glanced at each other. 

Polly walked up to us with a smile. 

"Karl is with his cousins. I caught them trying to pinch flowers off a grave. Ada, are you coming home?" 

"I'm going home."

"We make her embarrassed," I mumbled. 

I looked at Ada who rolled her eyes. 

"That's not what I said."

"There's another reason we want you home. We're planning an expansion. I'm taking premises in London."

"Tommy, it's a funeral. Business can wait."

"Polly, if Ada was weeping, then I'd stop. But she's not. The expansion means it's gonna be dangerous to be a Shelby in London for a while."

"Yeah. Well, I'm not a Shelby anymore. And I'm not a Thorne now either. I'm free. I've got to get Karl home." She walked away. 

She left the 3 of us standing there. Polly turned to look at Tommy. 

"I told you to let me do it."

"It's alright. I'll have some men watch her house till the danger passes." We watched a man on a motorbike ride up to Arthur. 

He quickly whispered something to Arthur. Arthur waved Tommy over as he started walking toward us. Aunt Polly leaned over to me. 

"Till danger passes."

"That'll be the bloody day." She nodded as we walked towards the crowd. 

Tommy, Aunt Polly, a few of our men, and I went to the Garrison. Someone had blown it up. We walked underneath the chains to get a better look. A copper was already there waiting for us. "It happened at exactly 7:00 a.m. Nobody saw anything. Our patrols were not in the area. Mr. Shelby, you got any idea who might have done it? I'd say it was something to do with the gas." 

We both know that's not true. We knew exactly who did it and why. He handed money to the copper. "Just been fitted." Aunt Polly walked inside. "Madam, the structure hasn't been declared safe. Madam," he yelled after her. 

She bent over to pick something up off the ground. ​​"This is all over the place." She handed some to Tommy. It was green confetti. What the hell? Tommy nodded to the copper.

"You can go."

"Right." He walked away. 

We stood there looking at the building. "Who? Who did this to us," Aunt Polly asked. Tommy and I went to a pub to find the people who did this. "Whiskey, Irish. None for her." He flopped his hat down on the counter. The bartender poured him the drink. Tommy put the money on the counter only for it to be pushed back to him. 

"Heard there was a bit of a bang in your part of town."

"Gas and electric don't mix. Who would've thought they would, eh?"

"How's business otherwise, Mr. Shelby?"

"You know something? In these times of hunger and hardship, business is surprisingly good." He turned to lean against the counter. 

He took a swig of his drink. A little boy walked down the old wooden steps. His heavy footsteps echoed through the small building. "Which one is the Peaky Blinder devils?" Tommy downed his drink to follow after the little boy. I was right behind him. We followed the little boy through backyards and alleyways. 

We had no idea where he was taking us. We walked inside a warehouse with one pig hanging up on a metal hook. It was naked and gutted. 2 men grabbed us from behind. They stripped us of our hats, guns, and coats. They put bags over our heads before pulling us along. They sat us down on wooden chairs before taking the bags off. 

We were sitting in a tiny room. A man and a woman sat across from us. There was an old table separating us. There was barely any light in the room. The only light was from the spaces between the boarded-up windows. 

"Thomas and Anna Shelby."

"You blew up our pub."

"Anger defeats fear. Good."

"You blew up my pub." 

"Tommy has a reputation to uphold," she looked over at her partner.

Her partner looked Tommy up and down. He finally spoke. 

"A reputation for not being scared of anything."

"In all the world, violent men are the easiest to deal with," she seemed to almost laugh.

Tommy glanced at me then back to them. "So tell me, which brand of rebel are you...eh? I read somewhere that you Paddies started fighting amongst yourselves now. The king offers you a peace treaty and you start a war about it. That's funny, don't you think? A war about peace." It went silent as the 4 of us stared at each other. 

"So are you for the treaty or against the treaty? Forgive me, I get confused," he leaned back in his chair. Her partner slowly reached for the gun. He got up from his chair, dragging the gun on the table as he walked over to me. The lady crossed her arms over her chest.

"You are one decision away from your deaths, Mr. Shelby." 

"So stop fucking smiling," her partner snapped.

I cleared my throat as I shifted in my seat. "Your name is Irene O'Donnell. You have a son at the Cherry Wood Road School in Harborne. He has irons on his legs. His name is Sean. He comes last in every race...poor boy. Poor boy, race is important. If you know what I mean, Irene." The gun was cocked and held to the side of my head. 

It was cold on my temple. Her partner didn't seem too smart. "Oh, she speaks. There are other ways of carrying out this mission. Please allow me to put the bullet in the scum tinker's head." Irene watched as she waited for my reaction. She wasn't getting one out of me. 

She still stared at me. 

"No. They research their enemies. That's why they've been chosen."

"We are chosen," Tommy asked. 

I looked at her partner. "I'm chosen."

"Can the chosen one smoke," Tommy asked again. 

The gun was taken from my head. Tommy reached in his pocket for his cigarettes. 

"A vacancy has appeared and you are going to fill it."

"Chosen by whom?"

"An informed consensus."

"We have things to do. So perhaps you could tell the chosen ones what we've been chosen for."

"From now on, you shut your fucking Gypsy mouthes and listen to your instructions." We were ushered out of the room. 

Our jackets and guns were hanging on the hooks next to the naked pig. We didn't say anything to each other as we got dressed. "Fuck," Tommy yelled as he knocked over some boxes. I stood aside as I watched him. Why can't anything just be normal? He wiped his mouth with his hand before putting on his coat and hat. 

I went home as Tommy went to his office. I guess the look on my face told Aunt Polly that I didn't want to talk about what happened. She could hear it from Tommy. We had a family meeting soon anyway. We sat around waiting for Tommy to get here. Finn was pacing back and forth. "Sit down, Finn," Arthur snapped. 

Finn finally sat down next to me. John looked at Aunt Polly who was staring out of the window. 

"Where the bloody hell is Tommy?"

"He is on his way."

"Alright then, while we're waiting patiently...Whiskey. Left over from the explosion. Good stuff." He put a crate on top of the table. 

He started pouring us all glasses. After the day I've had, I wasn't going to say no. John cleared his throat. 

"Right, before Tommy gets here, I think there are a few things we need to get straight between the rest of us."

"You think?"

"Yes, Anna. I want to know...when did we take a vote on this expansion south?" He waited for an answer. 

Aunt Polly turned around, walking closer to the table. 

"You have anything to say, you wait for Thomas."

"Polly's fucking right," Arthur agreed. 

"I see all the books. Legal and off-track. So stuff you don't see-"

"I see the books too, John-"

"And in the past year, the Shelby Company Limited has been making 150 pounds a day. Right? A fucking day! Sometimes more. So what I wanna know is why are we changing things? Polly, look what's happened already. Haven't even set foot in London yet, they've already blown up our fucking pub."

"Who said anything about Cockneys," Arthur asked. 

"Who else," Esme asked. 

"Do you know who did it," I asked as I turned to look at her. 

"No, she doesn't know who did it," John interjected. 

"I'm told only family is allowed to speak." She looked back down at her book. 

Tommy walked into the room. No one saw him until he spoke. "Everyone is allowed to speak. On your feet, Esme. Let's hear what you have to say." John cleared his throat. He stood up a little straighter as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. 

"I speak for your household. So could-"

"John, this company is a modern enterprise and believes in equal rights for women. On your feet, Esme." Esme looked at John as she put her book aside. 

She slowly stood up. 

"I'm not a blood member of this family. But perhaps indeed because I'm not a member, I could see things in a different light. So I'll get to my point."

"That would be nice."

"Aunt Pol," I whispered as I gently nudged her. 

She shrugged as she lit her cigarette. "As my husband said, Shelby Company Limited has become very successful. But London...I have kin and Shepherd's Bush and Portobello. It's more like wars between armies down there. And the coppers fight side-by-side with them. And there are foreigners of every description. And the use of bombs is the least of it. I have a child. Blessed with the Shelby family's good looks. I want John to see him grow up. I want us to someday live somewhere with fresh air and trees. And keep chickens or something. But London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas. That's all I have to say," She sat back down. 

Arthur stared straight ahead. "That was a lot of words. A lot of words. Wash them down with a nice drink." He handed Tommy a glass of Whiskey. "Thank you, Esme." Tommy finished his drink. 

He lit his cigarette. 

"Firstly the bag in the pub had nothing to do with London, understood? The bang is something I'm dealing with on me own. Secondly, we have nothing to fear from the proposed business expansion as long as we stick together. After the first few weeks, nine-tenths of what we do in London will be legal. The other tenth is in good hands. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

"That's right."

"Some of you in this room have expressed your reservations. Fair enough. Any of you who want no part in the future of this company, walk out the door. Right now. Go raise your chickens. For those of you with ambition, the expansion process starts tomorrow." Tommy walked out of the room. 

The next morning, I was invited to go on a holiday with the boys. Arthur and I waited outside of John's house for Tommy to get the car and for John to come outside. I called up to his window. 

"Tommy's here."

"Alright, hold on." Tommy got out and stood next to the car. 

"John," Tommy yelled this time. "I'm coming!" John's voice sounded louder this time. 

Arthur took a swig out of the bottle he was holding. Tommy looked over wondering what it was. "Seven o'clock, twelve, ten if I'm still sober. I got it from the doctor." He handed it to Tommy. "It keeps me nice and calm." Tommy smelled the brown liquid. 

He pointed it at Arthur.

"Same thing they gave us in the trenches, stop us fucking wanking."

"Polly said it's good for me temper. It slows me down. "

"Arthur, there are some things Polly doesn't understand." Tommy turned the bottle over to pour it out. 

"Tommy," I shouted. 

He shook the bottle to get the remaining drops out. "I need you fast, not slow." He tossed the bottle to the side. John finally came out of the house.  "She wouldn't let go of me fucking leg."

"I bet that's not all she wouldn't let go of," Arthur laughed. 

"You know she's against this, Tom. She's got opinions."

"Nothing wrong with opinions, John."

"Get in the fucking car."

"Shut up!" We all climbed in. 

I sat in the back with John as Arthur climbed in front. "Peaky Blinders are going on fucking holiday," Arthur shouted as he stood up. "Sit down, you mad bastard." John pulled him back into the leather seat. We drove until we hit the field. The boys got out to take a pee break. I got out of the car to stretch my legs. 

They were making jokes about raising chickens and living in the countryside. As we walked back to the car, Tommy ripped up a tarp from the very back seat. There was a body in the back.

"Who the hell is that?"

"It's Irish business. I thought it'd be best to deal with it meself."

"I was sitting that close to a random dead guy? I'm not helping." I hopped into the front of the car as they buried him. 

We finished our trip to London by night. We walked into a crowded club. It was full of drunks and druggies. The music hurt my ears. The people dancing around us were giving me a headache. John seemed to like the atmosphere. I did not. 

We found a table in the middle of the room to sit at. They brought out a bottle of booze. "Isn't this Sabini's club," I yelled over the music. Tommy nodded as the waiter put the bottle down. 

"Jesus Christ. Everybody in here is a fucking face."

"Just the lieutenants, John. No sign of the officers." 

"Let's line 'em up," John smirked as he lined up the glasses. 

He started to pour us all a drink. A different waiter walked over to our table. 

"There has been a mistake. I'm afraid you are going to have to leave."

"We just bought a fucking bottle," John shouted.

"A couple of the men know you from the tracks in the north."

"We get that a lot."

"They say you have no business coming south of the line without prior agreement."

"What line would that be, my friend?"

"They say, this is provocation."

"Right, well, you tell them we're on holiday," I smirked as I held up my drink.

I took a drink as did Tommy. "You're breaking the rules. They say you are the Peaky Blinders." A glass was thrown at our table. It shattered everywhere. "Peaky scum," someone shouted. Tommy immediately turned to that person. 

A giant fight broke out. We fought until a gun went off. The waiter was pointing a gun at us. "Get out," was all he said. We had no choice but to make our way outside. "We came here not to make enemies but to make new friends. Those of you who are last will be first. You know where to find us," Tommy announced on our way out. We took the bottle of booze with us. 

We walked back to the car. Arthur reached into his mouth. 

"I think I lost a fucking tooth. At this rate, I won't have any. Some fucking holiday this is."

"Yeah. You lost without your fucking medicine now, Arthur?"

"Here, this'll fix you."

"Give me that." He took the bottle of Whiskey from Tommy. 

Tommy pointed to John as we walked along. 

"You John-boy, eh? How are you? Or should I ask your fucking wife?"

"Give over!"

"No more talk of chicken, you hear me?"

"Fuck the chickens," Arthur slurred as John broke out into a fit of laughter.

Tommy walked a little further ahead of us. "Got 50 quid in my pocket. Let's go paint the town, eh?" That's exactly what we did. We didn't get back home until late morning. We were all exhausted and drunk. It was a miracle that we made it home in one piece. It was the most fun any of us had in a while. 

I sat with Tommy in his office late at night. He sighed as he looked up from his paperwork. 

"Polly is pissed at me."

"Why's that?"

"I poured out Arthur's medicine and this came in an hour ago." He handed me a slip of paper. 

'Let's break bread.' It didn't have a name but it came from Camden Town. I sighed as I put the paper down. "Do we go see Alfie?" He shrugged as he took a drag of his cigarette. After he finished his drink, we made our way out to the garage. We didn't feel like walking home in the rain tonight. 

I flinched at the sudden cold raindrops. Luckily, we didn't have to walk far. I sighed in relief when we made it under. I put my hand on the cold door handle. The back door creaked open. A man with a gun pointed at me stepped out. I held up my hands as I backed up. 

Another man came out, then another. We tried everything to keep them off of us. They just kept coming. Tommy and I were both on the ground in seconds. They were punching and hitting us as if we were trash. I had no idea how many men there were now. I didn't even care at this point. 

I knew one or both of us were going to die. I was drifting in and out of consciousness as I lay on the wet ground. They were still working on Tommy. I wished I was unconscious. I was surprised I already wasn't. The pain was too much. "Get her over here," one of them screamed. 

They pulled me away from Tommy as I screamed. I couldn't move. Fire ripped through my body every time I did. I couldn't fight them anymore. I got a glimpse of Tommy. It was almost too dark in the garage to see. He was lifelessly laying there.

I was barely above the surface as they pulled me up. The last thing I felt before everything went dark were hands on the buttons of my pants. 

#fanfic #alfie solomons #arthur shelby #finn shelby #john shelby #tommy shelby #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #ada shelby #bonnie gold #polly gray #michael gray

[trickster-tabby]

Toasted

Sebastian wants Sam to smoke weed with him. Sam has refused in the past, saying he refuses to smoke anything until he's 18. As such, Sebastian has been eagerly waiting for Sam's 18th birthday, and it's arrived...

Note from Stel: I am writing this high for the best experience so I apologize for any mistakes. also Sam is younger than Seb because I said so. this takes place on Sam's 18th birthday but Seb is already 18. also Seb is trans and about 3 months on T, and he lives alone after Demetrius and Maru moved to the city and Robin passed

Pairing: sambastian

Warnings: smoking weed, first time high, sexual jokes, casual nudity, making out(almost goes further but they get sleepy instead), mention of a trans man's boobs

"Oh, Sammy~" Sebastian sang cheerfully as he let himself into Sam's bedroom. "Guess what day it is?"

"...Tuesday?"

Sebastian flopped down onto Sam, who was still in bed. Sam let out an "oof!" as his boyfriend crushed him.

"No, it's your birthday! Happy birthday, Sam!"

"Oh, yeah." Sam pushed Sebastian off of him and pulled the blanket over himself. "Why are you so excited? ...and why the hell did you get up so early?"

"Remember that promise you made?"

Sam thought for a moment. He'd just woken up, and couldn't remember what promise he meant. He looked at Sebastian for an answer.

Sebastian smiled mischievously and pulled a plastic baggie out of his pocket. It was full of green lumps.

"Oh, shit. That promise."

Sebastian laughed and put the bag back in his pocket. "You said you'd smoke with me on your eighteenth. That's today!"

Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes as he finally woke up fully. "Well, we gotta wait until tonight, at your place. Mom would kill me if we smoked in the same house as my little brother."

"Deal. Come over around six?"

-

Sam nervously fidgeted with the lighter Sebastian had given him. The two of them were sitting on Sebastian's bed.

Sebastian was packing the weed into a cigarette-shaped... Thing. Sam wasn't sure what it was called, but he'd seen it before. Was it a hand pipe?

"So, uh... How bad am I gonna cough?"

Sebastian smiled. "Probably a lot. Like, cough up a lung, a lot. It's gonna be fun."

Sam looked down at the lighter awkwardly. "So I've literally never smoked anything, ever, in my life... Do I just breathe it in?"

Sebastian handed one of the pipes to Sam, lifting the one he had previously packed for himself. "What I do is... I pull the smoke into my mouth, then slowly breathe it into my lungs. If you want to hold it for a few seconds that'll usually get you high faster."

As Sebastian took a drag from his pipe, Sam raised his to his mouth and carefully watched Sebastian. He copied Sebastian's actions, and...

Coughed so hard his eyes watered.

"Oh fuck, that burns!"

Sebastian exhaled his smoke with a laugh. "Let me show you how to do this."

-

Sam laid on Sebastian's soft rug, staring at the old star stickers on the ceiling.

Sebastian sat shirtless on the bed, staring down at his boyfriend amusedly.

"You okay there, Sammy?"

"I feel like a DVD player."

The two of them laughed uncontrollably for a moment.

Sebastian absentmindedly chewed on his finger, watching Sam endure the rather twitchy high.

"Wow. Why did I refuse this before? Feels weird, in a good way." Sam reached up and watched his fingers wiggle.

"What's it feelin' like for you?" Sebastian flips his legs behind him and laid on his front, still staring down at Sam.

"I'm simultaneously tomorrow, and three thousand and fifty-two years ago."

"Sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Sam sat up and looked at Sebastian.

"What?"

Sam shook his hand in a rather suggestive motion, before smirking at Sebastian.

"I'm not gonna jerk you off, loser."

"Aww, come on."

Sebastian sat back up.

"...eh, maybe later. Wanna kiss?"

Sam clambered up onto the bed and promptly locked lips with Sebastian. Seb let out a hum as he ran his fingers through Sam's hair, hugging him tightly.

Sam growled as he pulled back from the kiss and pushed Sebastian down onto his back. Sebastian wasn't wearing his binder, and the bounce of Sebastian's naked chest made Sam giggle a bit.

"Nice tits, dude."

Sebastian burst into laughter. "Thanks, I grew them myself."

Sam laid himself down on Sebastian, kissing him again. Their tongues danced around each other, and Sebastian squeaked a bit as he tried to hold back a moan.

Sam trailed his lips down to Sebastian's neck, gently and lovingly kissing his boyfriend.

"I'm... sleepy."

Sam laughed against Sebastian's neck. "Why the heck him so eepy!"

"I'm eepy!"

They laughed again, and Sebastian crawled over to his nightstand and clicked off the lamp. He crawled back and nestled himself in Sam's arms, with his back to him.

Sam spooned his boyfriend, pulling the blanket up over them.

"Can I hold your tits?"

Seb nodded, and Sam cupped one of them.

"Warm..."

Sebastian maneuvered his feet to pull one of Sam's legs between his own so his thighs didn't stick together in his sleep.

"Night, Sam."

"Mmmmmmeh."

@catboygirlboss

#stel's sdv au #sambastian #stardew valley #stardew sebastian #stardew sam

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Vil Schoenheit Lab Coat Personal Story: Part 2

"More accurate than any scale"

(Part 1) Part 2

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Kitchen]

Trey: Sorry to keep you waiting, Vil. Here's your herbal tea.

Vil: Thank you, Trey. …What a nice fragrance.

Trey: I also brought some cake, just in case. I just baked it today.

Vil: I can certainly see that it is something for you to be proud of. However, I'll refrain and simply have the herbal tea.

Vil: …Mm, it's delicious. Where did you get these tea leaves?

Trey: At the Mystery Shop. They seldomly get tea from this long-standing brand in stock, so.

Trey: If you like it, do you want to take some with you? I got a lot of it, and I feel like the flavor will fade before I can finish it all.

Vil: Then, I suppose I shall. Will you wrap it up for me later?

Trey: So… what were you saying earlier? What did Rook do?

Vil: It wasn't really anything. If I must tell you, I guess I'd just say that he just watches me too closely?

Vil: I guess it's more or less convenient that he can sense changes about me faster than I can.

Vil: But don't you think he's absolutely the worst to just ask me point blank if I've gained weight?

Vil: Honesty and lack of tact are two separate things. Perhaps he left his tact in the forest.

Trey: Ah… Yeah, he probably shouldn't have said it that way.

Trey: Rook's the type to say whatever's on his mind, for better or worse, so it's surprised me from time to time, too.

Vil: Hm. It should have been obvious, but I see he's like that during club, too.

Trey: Like, just the other day, he said that the experiment that our advisor set up for the club to do would be "boring as it is now"…

Trey: So, we ended up having to do a real complicated experiment. All the first years were pretty much unable to do anything at all.

Vil: I can definitely picture that happening.

Vil: And I'm sure you were there helping out those first years, weren't you?

Trey: I don't know how much help I was, but yeah, I guess.

Vil: So hard working, all the time…

Vil: Riddle is quite lucky that you're in Heartslabyul.

Trey: Eh?

Vil: It comes up during the Dorm Leader meetings from time to time, that you're an exceptional Vice Dorm Leader.

Trey: Oh, man… That's the first I'm hearing of it. Honestly, it's a little surprising.

Trey: I just don't want to lose my head, is all. I haven't done anything worth that much praise.

Vil: Don't be so modest. Accept the compliments when they're given to you.

Vil: Those who cannot see your true nature may be completely taken in by your humility.

Vil: Well, if that's the kind of impression you want to leave, that's fine, but… Generally, you'll come out worse for wear.

Trey: That's a bit harsh. But I'm sure you know what you're saying, especially since you're always in the public's judging eye.

Trey: I'll try to slightly change how I do things from now on.

Vil: Please do. That'll also make the one who complimented you feel better as well.

Vil: Besides, you won't pile on so much stress if you just let yourself be happy at least when you're receiving praise.

Vil: Especially since you're usually running around taking care of a spoiled little boy, after all.

Trey: Oh, it’s not like I'm stressing out over Riddle.

Vil: Well, okay. Whatever you say.

Trey: No, it's true. That's because I know the secret to not being stressed.

Vil: Oh, a secret? Now I'm curious.

Trey: Do you want to know?

Vil: Well, aren't you acting all high-and-mighty all of a sudden?

Trey: I'll only tell you once, so listen well.

Vil: Alright…

Trey: Don't skimp on the sweets, especially cake with a ton of fruit on it.

Vil: Ugh. You were putting on such airs, and I got so drawn in. …Heh.

Vil: Fine. I'll have one slice of your fruit cake.

Vil: I'll just have to increase how much I run tomorrow morning.

Trey: Maybe this isn't something I need to tell you, since you're a model, but…

Trey: I don't think a single cake slice will change your figure that much. You're already pretty thin, anyway.

Vil: I'd rather you say I'm "toned," not "thin."

Vil: However, Rook's sharp gaze is more accurate than any scale. And perhaps better than a mirror, as well.

Trey: Wow…

Vil: Mm, it's delicious. Trey, did your skills increase yet again?

Vil: If you ever lose your head to Riddle, come see me. I'll make you my dormitory's exclusive pastry chef.

Trey: I'll do my best so that doesn't happen.

Trey: I bet it'll be a lot of calorie counting if I had to make pastries over in Pomefiore.

Vil: And that would also be a good way to improve as well, now, wouldn't it?

(Part 1) Part 2

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #trey clover #twst vil #twst trey #twst translation #mention: riddle #mention: rook

[amyintherapy]

Trauma layers

Therapy is such a mindfuck sometimes. I 100% get it when people say they don't think therapy would help them because they are pretty self-aware or self-reflective. Cause, that seems so freaking logical. But, I swear, with the right therapist you'll find yourself routinely shocked at how blind you actually can be to your own bullshit. Our brains try SO hard to hide our bullshit from us, it's insane. I guess I shouldn't speak for everyone, but it's so true for traumatized brains, at least. I know that minimizing or outright hiding your issues from you is how the brain responds to trauma. But it's still eye opening to me when I catch on to new pieces of this in myself.

I went into my appointment today with several ideas of what to potentially talk about written down. I knew what had been on my mind the most, but I wasn't sure if it made sense to use the appointment to discuss it because I've discussed essentially the same thing with my therapist multiple times in the past. So a big part of me was like eh, that'd be a waste of time. I know everything there is to know about myself in this area. Probably spend more time on these other things as that'll probably be more productive/helpful. But I decided to at least mention it and see where it goes. I expected to jump topics pretty quickly as I didn't think we'd find new ground to cover. But we wound up spending 45ish minutes out of the hour on it. And it was productive. And yet, it's hard to really express why. It's not like there was some big new revelation. I largely went into it knowing what my trauma is, why I have this trigger, what my default response is, etc etc etc.

To spell out this piece of my trauma a bit...

I had an eggshell stepdad, and a constantly-overwhelmed semi-eggshell mom. My stepdad exploding was my mom's biggest trigger. And anger from either of them basically means anything could happen. Some of what I saw happen after anger, much of it starting off with really low level things like..someone shutting the door a little harder than normal (not really slamming it) or tossing their keys onto the counter a little too loudly. These kinda things were triggers to me as a kid because I knew they could mean an explosion was coming. Anyway, what I dealt with related to my eggshell caregivers' anger...

Emotional abuse between adults (very common)

Emotional abuse at kids (very common, my siblings who were externalizers caught more than I did, but I couldn't avoid it either)

Lower-level physical abuse of kids (semi-common but was my siblings, not me that I ever recall)

Domestic violence between adults (very rare, maybe 2-3 times ever)

Items being broken/physical aggression with household items (Rare-ish, maybe once a year?)

Recurring arguments or break-ups (extremely common. Fights rarely stayed as one event. They'd usually argue, try to wrap it up, and then explode again within a few hours, or perhaps even a few days later, but there was almost always a round two, at minimum. Core issues were never resolved, clusters of several related arguments over a week or two were common as well.)

Once I saw an adult hold a gun to their head after threatening suicide.

Once I saw an adult pull a gun on another adult (neither was part of my household).

Maybe 4-5 times over my childhood cops came to our house following arguments and/or violence.

My coping method was to try to be pleasing when the anger was lower-level. Keep things light if you can, but at minimum, don't do anything that might set anyone off. Once anger was bigger, just try not take up any space. Outright leaving (like going to my room) would sometimes get noticed in a negative way, so don't flee, but stay as far away as you can without actually leaving. Like...stay in the living room but sit silently on the couch, pretending you don't even notice the argument happening. Try to go unnoticed...blend into the decor. Stay out of the line of fire when the bombs are going off, basically. And when that failed and you're in the line of fire, fawn/people please to try to 'fix'.

What this looks like for me now, as an adult - is still to try to 'fix' other people's irritation, frustration, low level anger if I can find any way to. Or with 'big' anger, kinda freeze, or try to fawn/people please if it's directed at me. I can't feel safe if others are upset, so I try to absorb it so I can do something about it. And after someone around me shows anything adjacent to anger (like frustration) my brain likes to assume this is just 'round one' of anger, and round 2 will happen soon and will be bigger and scarier. So I'm very on-edge after 'detecting' any anger in my environment, even when it's really small. And my brain tries to pull my down a rabbit hole of finding potential things I've 'done wrong' that might be making this person secretly angry at me. Even when I logically know it has nothing to do with me. My brain wants to find a potential reason it could involve me. I'm pretty good about not letting it go down that rabbit hole very far, but it sure tries - and I have to spend energy holding it back from going there.

None of this is news to me, at all. I sort of forget when I've made certain realizations in therapy, but I think I've known all of this about myself for at least a year? So I wasn't sure there could be anything productive to come out of sharing how someone was frustrated around me this week and it triggered me...and how I knew I was triggered, and talked to myself about how my brain was reacting the way it did when I was a kid, but how my current situation is safe. How someone else's anger isn't a threat to me anymore. How I've created a life for myself that is safe, even when people get angry. I can have tough conversations with those closest to me. I don't get very close with anyone I can't do that with. So I consciously recognized all of this, but it didn't get rid of the anxiety. I stayed frozen in a moderately anxious place, hyper vigilant, unable to focus, and so drained from all of this emotional energy being spent on basically, nothing productive.

I expected my therapist to remind me that I'm trying to literally rewire the pathways in my brain, and I have 30ish years of my brain going down the "anger is very unsafe, I must regulate others' emotions and people-please." pathway. And that was said. As well as some usual points about how some of this equates to expecting myself to be able to mind read, and given that I am not a superhero or someone with magical powers, that expectation is cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I know this, but the reminder is good. But some new things were said too.

They asked if, after detecting someone else's frustration recently, I was able to put a loved one in my own place. We've talked a lot about how it's easier for me to empathize with myself if I imagine someone I care about in my shoes. Would I tell a friend that they should 'fix' someone elses frustration? That if someone sighs in their home that they should become hyper-critical and over-analyze anything they could have possibly done 'wrong'? Of course, the ridiculousness of this is apparent to me when imagine someone else in my shoes. But I admitted to them that I hadn't been able to remember to try using that trick to change perspectives until after I had settled some. That when I'm first triggered, I kinda seem to lose access to that more logical side of my brain that would allow me to try to remember specific suggestions or tools that had been suggested to me. They said it makes sense to forget when you're that emotional, so sometimes visual reminders are good. Like wearing a bracelet with a compassionate statement on it or something. Honestly, that feels cheesy to me, I don't really care for wearing anything that has text of any kind on it, to be honest and growing up with no positive feedback/praise has left me with a strong aversion to positivity like that..which is something else to work on but, one thing at a time. Anyway - I do like the idea of some sort of symbol in my environment serving as a reminder even if it has no text on it. Something that I'd take as a reminder perhaps, without anyone else needing to have a clue what it's about. So it was nice to get a little bit of a fresh idea on something additional to try. But bigger than that...they helped me realize that I have continued my pattern of self-abuse, and just disguised it as trying to help myself.

Meaning...I see myself being triggered, I see myself starting to fall into old patterns of trauma responses to try to cope, and I know that reaction is maladaptive at this point in my life. So I try to stop myself from repeating that old pattern of trauma responses...and on occasion I can stop it in its tracks. But not often with this anger related trigger, it's a real powerful one for me. And when I'm not successful and I find myself becoming hypervigilent and self critical due to someone elses anger..I beat myself up about it! I beat myself up for beating myself up...because I'm 'supposed to' be working on being more compassionate. And that's still part of this cycle, it's just another layer of it. I beat myself up because keeping myself in a position of guilt/shame keeps me small so I can stay in this position of feeling like I am wrong and they are right and I am guilty and need to fix.

It's bonkers that even in my attempts to heal, my old self-harming mindset comes out disguised as a cure for.

In other words..

My logical brain "I need to stop beating myself up. That is a trauma pattern that used to serve me as a kid, but is just harmful to me now."

My trauma brain: "Right! We're hurting ourselves and that's dumb! Let's beat ourselves up about that! That's the solution!"

Fuck.

#ptsd #cptsd #trauma #ogres are like onions #onions have layers #trauma onions? #want to watch Shrek now #attachment trauma #childhood emotional neglect #childhood emotional abuse #emotional abuse #fear of anger #fawning #people pleasing #developmental trauma #internalizing #internalizers

[hirukochan]

i’m sad that your tears finally soon to come to completion, but i’m glad that i was part of the waiting journey of this amazing fic to read our 2 protagonists finally get their happy ending!

buuuuut excited from your upcoming fic astrea x voldemort snippets, they got me salivating would you count this as reverse harem? 🫣 i’d love to read the dynamic differences of each voldemort from various of time frames, and to read them beefing over astrea or his horcruxes insulting voldemort like “you can do better that that” for losing the first war(i can see a little shit teenager tom riddle saying it), it makes sense that his worthy competitors are his own self/creation. will voldemort lose his shit over that? cause i love me some unhinged snake face voldemort😏

will you reveal in the tags a as voldemort wins au? and the type of ending? or are you going to keep the reader on their toes, letting the characters move on their own in your mind?

though i got a feeling this will be a merry-bad ending (fucked up tragedy from outsiders’ pov but the main characters themselves are happy)

Thank you so much! And what a journey it was! There were so many sub-plot I didn't see coming but that worked so well within the story I couldn't just *not* write them.

For the upcoming fic, yeah, I'd say it's reverse harem even it's technically the same person but...three times. There is sweet, innocent Astrea, sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle and Voldemort and then some time later Mr Gaunt joins into the fun as well. It'll be a dark fic. Voldemort isn't nice and his past selfs certainly weren't either.

Voldemort is pretty much the same as I write him always, very manipulative, charming and he can be 'nice' if he wants to.

Tom Riddle is certainly influenced by the years he has spend with Astrea already, I think consuming someone's soul leaves its traces lol. He is trapped in that moment right after killing Myrtle with the Basilik and creating his first Horcrux. So he's ofc also emotionally stuck at sixteen.

Mr Gaunt, the locket, was created some time before Voldemort's downfall, I put it somewhere between 1965 and 1970 personally. He is older, has a more 'refined' taste in cruelty and was at the height of his power before his 'death'. He still has his human features but he isn't quite human anymore. Kinda uncanny valley style. Astrea can feel that something is off and it scares her.

All Voldemorts find her fear entertaining but all Voldemorts have their own aspirations and all Voldemorts are jealous and wildly possessive - even towards each other. I am very much looking forward to writing them interact and exploring different facets of the same character. Voldemort is such an interesting character!

They are each unhinged in their own way! And Tom, because he has already spend so much time by Astrea's side, already considers her 'his' so that'll result in some delicious conflict.

I am not sure yet if the other Horcruxes make an appearance too. Nagini is there but her Horcrux is different, it doesn't seem to really manipulate the world around her like the diary does - same goes for Harry. I like the idea of the diadem, cup and ring joining but idk if I could make more than three believable and yet different versions of Voldemort. Also the whole name thing would get confusing. Thomas, Riddle and Marvolo perhaps but eh.

The fic is both canon-divergent and a Voldemort-wins-au. The diary never reaches Hogwarts so the entire second year wouldn't happen like it does in the novels and the adults act...more intelligent lol xD Astrea herself also influences several events.

I have an idea how the fic will end but that might still change, I can see this fic getting potentially quite long 😅 So I will for now not say much about that other than that I personally don't like bad endings full of misery and death and hopelesness.

#ask #wip ask #Astrea x Voldemort