#fic: pest control

[adelaidedrubman]

"15. The scene that will give you, personally, the most joy." !

thank you mari!!! i decided to make this a fun little vaguely set in non time specific wildfire piece, nothing serious all just based on the joke that jestiny’s true soulmate is the noble opossum.

summary: mary may does some pest control. jessie ends up with a pet that isn’t really a pet. (set vaguely in wildfire. no pairings, implied references to johnjess but john is not in this one, just nice folks being bothered.)

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: (humanely executed) animal death (not the opossum). references to canon typical gore. mary may pov and the occasional daydreaming of jestiny murder that entails. disclaimer opinions expressed not my own, everyone stay safe and do not approach wild animals.

“— ’cause come to think of it, what were they gonna do with a bunch of fucking pumpkins anyways? I mean, seriously? The fuck can you cook with pumpkins? Not to mention —”

Mary May let out a long exhale to steady herself. She hoisted the weight of the varmint rifle onto her shoulder. She balanced it in place with one arm while the hand of the other reached to situate the protective covering in place over her ears, hoping it would help to drown out the grating squawk of Jestiny’s rambling as well. 

“— much fucking work it is to hollow out a pumpkin? Then they’re still gonna have to go through the hassle of canning —”

Damn. No such luck. 

Still, the noise was better dampened than it had been, and she tried to tune the rest out by force of willpower as she focused on the rattle of the trash bins shaking from the skittering within. 

“— that much you can even make from it, anyways...”

Fall’s End had a pest problem. 

The bin wobbled, something heavy thudding against its side. 

A very serious pest problem. 

“...peggies going to all that fucking work so that — what? John Seed doesn’t have to spend the apocalypse without pumpkin spice lattes?”

Some of the pests, she was allowed to shoot. 

There was a clack of sharp nails drumming against plastic — the quick flash of the lid popping open, and her eyes followed the darting blur of gray that emerged until it was scurrying between her sights. 

A crack of gunfire, an oddly tension easing slam of the butt of the rifle against her chest in blowback. She glanced up from its scope, looking to see the dying twitches of the large rat laying on the ground beside the trash. 

“— much you wanna bet all the gutted corpses of so-called ‘sinners’ hanging up around here are actually just folks who didn’t get his coffee order right? Ha, come to think of it —”

Jestiny had not flinched at the gunfire. As best as Mary May could tell, she hadn’t even paused her monologue. 

Mary May noted the slight ring that vibrated in her eardrums even with the shield of her muffs — it would have to be absolutely deafening for the redhead, wouldn’t it? 

“— spent all his damn money on a stockpile of fuckin’ artisan crafted organic coffee beans or something, and that’s why they have to steal shit now instead of just buying —”

It would make sense, actually, to think that she couldn’t hear herself speak. 

She grunted, adjusting her stance and glancing to the side, taking notice of the man emerging from the church in the distance to investigate the sound of gunshots. 

She held her palm up in a half-wave to the Pastor. 

“Pest control,” she shouted in explanation, nodding towards the body of the rat bleeding out on the ground. “Rats have been rooting around the garbage like crazy lately. Gotta take care of it before they worm their way inside and get at the food supply,” she added, pulling aside one muff of her ear protection. “Think there might be something bigger in the mix too. Racoon or skunk or something. Fucker keeps waking me up in the dead of night making a racket squealing and banging around out here. Always scampers off before I can run out and catch it.”

Jerome nodded, settling into place beside her. “Do you need any help?”

“Just the company’d be nice,” she answered, darting her eyes towards the redhead, who barked out her own form of greeting then proceeded to catch Jerome up to speed on her musings of the day as Mary May tried to tune her out. “Sorry about all the noise,” Mary May added, before pulling the trigger to produce another sharp pop of gunfire. 

The plump body of another rat fell to the ground from its place peeking out beneath the lid, landing with a soft thud. 

She gave a satisfied hum, glancing to her side to note that Jerome still kept his hands pressed firmly against his ears even as the boom of gunfire faded, while Jestiny once again hadn’t bothered to shield hers at all, or stop talking. 

( — Jesus fucking Christ, was she even human — )

( was she? ) 

She paused briefly to rub the sore spot on her shoulder, trying to ease a tightness from her muscles that continued stubbornly settling deeper with every stray word she caught from the woman beside her. 

“— wonder if John teaches his pumpkin and people carving classes at the same time for the sake of efficiency. Regular fuckin’ Martha Stewart of corpse mutilation —” 

She pulled the trigger as a particularly large lump of gray dashed along her field of vision, satisfying deafening crack and recoil pushing her back — too far, she realized as her shoulder jerked towards the ground, and her foot slid beneath her. 

Not pushed, she was being pulled — a hand was gripping at her shoulder to yank her back, throwing her down with a harsh impact of rocky ground against her shoulder blades. 

There was a shatter of glass, and she looked up just in time to see the pellet strike the window of her spare bedroom and splinter it, a blotch of bright copper hair — the woman who had thrown her down, she realized — streaking across her vision a second later. 

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?!” the redhead shouted over her shoulder as she ran forward towards the garbage cans Mary May had been targeting. 

“Are you alright?” Jerome asked deep with worry, rushing to her side to slip a supportive hand under her back and lift her to sit upright, scanning her for injuries. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Mary May grumbled in reply, unsure to whom. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Jestiny screamed back at her, crouching down beside the dumpster. “The fuck do you think you’re doing? Shooting like that?!” 

“The fuck do I —” She felt the impulse to reach for her gun again. “I’m shooting rats, like I have been all morning!” she barked, brushing the dirt from her clothing. “The fuck are you doing?!” 

“This is not a fucking rat!” the redhead screeched as her hands shot behind the garbage, auburn brow wrinkled with some strange mix of fury and panic. “This is a fuckin’ opossum you almost killed over here!” 

What? 

“What?” she spat, leaning forward. 

“I said you almost killed a fucking opossum, you fuckin’ lunatic!” she briefly shot her head to the side to snap, before directing her attention back in front of her. “Look at him,” she cried, pulling from behind the dumpster to hold in display the most hideous excuse for an overgrown rat Mary May thought she’d ever seen, with its coarse gray fur and long, bald tail. She shuddered as Jestiny brought the rigid body of the creature into her lap, limp pink tongue rolling out from long rows of sharp teeth to fall atop the bare skin of her leg. “You scared him so bad he’s playing dead.” 

Mary May scoffed, pushing herself up to stand with Jerome’s supportive hands following her. “Well move out of the way so I can make it more than just an act,” she said, bending to reach for her rifle. “That must be the big fucker who’s been causing me trouble.” 

Jessie’s eyes bulged, her jaw dropping to flash a look of shocked offense. “You cannot kill a fucking opossum.” 

“I can,” she replied flatly. “It’s just another one of the vermin roaming around. I don’t care what kinda big, special rodent it is. It’s a nuisance, and a threat to our food supply.” 

“Opossums are fuckin’ marsupials, Mary May!” she growled, jerking her head forward and baring teeth in a snarl. “Not rats!” she added with a glare, before looking down at the animal in her lap with softening eyes. “The females have pouches, even. Like kangaroos,” she said with a beaming smile, running a hand over the exposed belly of the creature. “Looks like this little critter is a fella, though.” 

“A kangaroo sized rat,” she nodded, deadpan. “Real fascinating, Dep.” 

“Very interesting. You seem to know a great deal about opossums,” Jerome added with a nervous smile and a tone of disarming praise one would expect to hear used to appease a child throwing a tantrum as he took a few careful steps towards the redhead. 

Mary May wasn’t entirely sure if it was Jestiny or the opossum that hissed at him. Either way, he stopped in his tracks. 

“And you can give us an earful on everything you know about ’em later,” Mary May said, putting a hand on her hip. “But right now I gotta deal with the one rifling through my trash.” 

Jessie threw a protective arm around the creature, scooping it up to cradle against her chest. “No fuckin’ way,” she ground out. The opossum’s shiny pink nose twitched, sniffing at the woman’s chin then breaking its paralyzed act to crane its head further and rub against her jaw. “Over my dead body are you fucking killing this opossum.” 

Was that supposed to be a threat instead of a bonus? 

“Don’t test me, Rook.” 

“That’s a fuckin’ order,” she barked, rising to stand as if it gave her some authority, opossum still held to her bosom. “As a fucking law enforcement officer I am ordering you to not touch a hair on this guy’s little head.” 

“Rook —” 

“Deputy Rook, to you.” 

“Do you seriously expect that to fly?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t have any authority to tell me not to kill vermin on my own —” 

“He’s not vermin,” she interrupted, looking down to press a kiss to the creature’s head. “You know how rare opossums are around here? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen one. They aren’t native to Montana,” she said pointedly. “This little guy must be a transplant from down south somewhere, like me,” she chuckled, scratching behind the animal’s tiny rounded ears. 

Mary May thought that was the first time she’d ever heard Jestiny mention anything about where she was from. 

She thought about suggesting Jessie and the opossum both leave and go back home. 

“As far as I’m concerned, that makes it an endangered species around here,” Jessie said resolutely. She patted the opossum’s back at the statement, and its sharp little claws dug into the denim of her overalls to pull itself up them, crawling up her chest to sit perched on her shoulder, as if taunting the bartender. “And therefore under my fuckin’ protection as law enforcement.” 

“You’ve have to be fucking kidding me.” 

“I’ll arrest you Mary May, I swear to —” 

“This isn’t the sort of thing we should be letting ourselves get upset over. I’m sure we can —” 

“I’m not gonna sit around and let that thing eat all our food and spread disease all over town until our resistance is taken down by a fucking opossum,” Mary May said firmly, stepping past Jerome. 

“Opossums have low fucking disease rates, thank you very much! They’re fuckin’ immune to rabies!” she shot back. “They eat shit like ticks that do spread diseases, in fact! So tell Hank here thank you for the lack of Lyme disease goin’ around!”

“Hank —?” 

“Be more likely to catch something from that stupid fuckin’ show dog y’all are always fawning over for whatever fucking reason than this little guy,” she grumbled, scratching the animal’s chin. “And he’s fuckin’ cuter, too.”

Mary May shook her head. “You think that thing is cute?” 

Jestiny cocked her head in what appeared to be genuine confusion. 

“Well, yeah,” she answered, flicking her eyes towards the opossum. “Just look at him!” 

She pulled the animal from her shoulder by the tail, allowing the hairless length of it to wrap in a coil around her arm so that he hung upside down by it, grinning up at Mary May with wide rows of glinting pointed teeth as he swung suspended. 

Her stomach turned. “Is this one of your shitty jokes?” 

“I’m serious,” she huffed, pushing out her bottom lip. “I’ve always thought opossums were adorable,” she insisted. She turned her arm so as to reel the creature in by the tail and flip it over, so that it now rested balanced atop her forearm as she gazed at it. 

“I mean, the beady little eyes.” The animal looked up at her, making an affectionate chittering sound as if in response. “That long pointy snout,” she added, tapping a finger against its pink nose. “The big ol’ grin with all them sharp teeth,” she continued, trailing her fingers back to scratch between its eyes. “Those tiny grabby hands,” she laughed, craning her neck until the opossum reached out to grasp her nose with bony, clawed fingers. “So cute,” she squawked, extra nasally from the pressure of the fingers gripping her nose. 

Mary May stared in silent awe for a moment. “You know, Rook, I think this is somehow both the most and least I’ve ever understood you.” 

“Well,” Jestiny cleared her throat, finally breaking the adoring gaze she’d held with the opossum to swing her head towards Mary May. “Only thing you really need to understand is that this little guy is sticking around for good.” 

“Not in my fucking —” 

“You know,” Jerome whispered to the bartender in subtle interjection, stepping towards her to speak under his breath as the redhead resumed cooing at her overgrown rat. “I think this could actually be good for her.” 

Mary May shot him a look of disbelief. 

“I used to minister to prisoners, and some of the prisons I would visit had programs that allowed the inmates to take in shelter animals, and keep them as pets,” he explained, looking over his glasses at Mary May. “Having something to care for really helped them. I saw many of those who were struggling suddenly develop a new sense of responsibility and kindness. There’s even evidence it helps with rehabilitation into society,” he murmured. “A pet could be good for her.” 

Mary May squinted at the Pastor. “Isn’t you thinking to make that comparison in the first place a sign she should be in a prison?” she replied. “Not in my fucking bar with a —” 

“Jerome!” the redhead chirped, suddenly right in front of them and shoving the opossum once again hanging off her arm into their faces. “You think he’s cute, don’t you?” 

“He’s —” Jerome coughed, adjusting his glasses with a nervous laugh. “Noah must have put them on the arc for a reason.” 

“Well, I’m not as generous as Noah,” Mary May said, crossing her arms. “You wanna invite a opossum into your own house? Fine by me. But as long as you’re staying in mine, you’re not bringing in a dirty, ugly trash animal as a fucking pet.” 

“Pet?” Jessie scoffed, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Don’t be fuckin’ stupid, you can’t keep an opossum as a pet. They’re wild animals.” 

“Are you —” 

“Hank here isn’t meant to be a pet,” she shook her head, holding the opossum close to her so that its skinny snout pressed against her cheek. “We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us,” she shoved her chin up high in the air to whine in an unnatural falsetto. “We don’t even belong to each other.” 

“You also don’t belong in my bar.” 

“Breakfast at Tiff —” 

“I got the reference.” 

“Pretty okay movie, right? Doesn’t live up to the book, but…” she shrugged. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about Hank and me,” she said, tucking the opossum into the front pouch of her overalls, then tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against its, as the animal looked back up at her. “He’s not a pet. He’s just gonna hang out with me.” 

“Not in my —” 

But the redhead was gone, skipping through the back entrance to the Spread Eagle before she could finish the statement. 

Mary May sighed, clicking the safety on her rifle and hoisting it over her shoulder to carry into the bar with her as she followed the woman — thinking better of it, as she reached the door, propping it against the wall instead. 

“Jerome,” she paused in the doorway to turn back and address the Pastor, eyes briefly falling to the rifle again. “If I go to jail for killing her, try to see to it I get sent to one of the ones where they let you keep pets,” she said, turning forward. “Normal ones,” she added with a shiver. “Not opossums.” 

He nodded, gravely, smile falling. 

Some pests she was allowed to kill. 

Some she wasn’t.

#writies and wordies #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #local writer does everything in her power not to work on chapter 16 #fic: pest control

[wolfs-writing-den]

Anakin’s a Dragon.

That’s it. That’s my fic brainrot atm. I have been rotating the idea in my mind for a while now, and I think it might actually develop into A Thing.

I should specify- Anakin can turn Into A Dragon. He gets bought by the Sith as a kid, and raised as a tool.

Obi-wan takes Ahsoka on as a Padawan, and eventually at some point during the War they all cross paths.

Obi/Ani would be end game. I just want cute Obi and draganakin cuddles. Obi guiding Anakin back to some sense of self and personhood. Etc etc etc

And angst. I want some Angst too.

#Imma call this the #Draganakin!AU #star wars the clone wars #plot bunnies #plot bunnies everywhere #someone call pest control they are invading my brain #obi wan and anakin #ahsoka tano #too because we love best girl ahsoka #someone who loves star wars but never actually watched all of the clone wars tv show tries to write fics set in the series: the saga

[constable-rohza]

sob thinking about frank and c-38

#i should NOT be taking the dumb pest control sitcom this seriously #but guys............. #its so sad #what if i wrote a fic #animal control fox

[the-music-maniac]

Currently attempting to hammer out a fix-it continuation to my Obiwan Kenobi Episode 6 fic here

I don't even know where to put this thing in the overall chapters/plot but I really wanna keep it cause it makes me laugh

#i am curses with the knowledge of lava fleas so i wanna use it #like does vader literally have a pest control situation #has he ever stepped outside his ominous space palace and run into a lava flea #answer me #obiwan kenobi show #obiwan kenobi #anakin skywalker #darth vader #it is a vaderwan fic so #obikin #vaderwan #obiwan kenobi episode 6 #musicmaniac's complaints about writing

[nebuvoid]

god now i cant stop thinking about sasuke watching the nh wedding, heartbroken, and leaving the same night without telling anyone a word. and naruto feeling equally heartbroken and not knowing why when its supposed to be the happiest day of his life. and in the weeks after he just struggles harder and harder to keep the facade up and no one fucking understands him since they pushed him into this marriage and months go by and then sasuke visits because he cant help himself and they meet and sasuke becomes a homewrecker and naruto leaves his pregnant wife behind and disappears with sasuke never to return and sobvosbvoisbiosbio you know?

#like i know what i said abot boruto earlier this week. it still stands. but i do not control what my mind tortures me with ok #boruto talk #boruto tw #uhhhh #naruhina tw #ovboivbsoi if this shows up in the nh tag im sorry ok #the thing is i avoid fics like this like the pest esp since theyre always already about boruto era #but if it was one like this? i might just.. #take a glimpse.. #that fucking song just really fucked me up #the dichotomy between the cheerful wedding music and the heartbroken lyrics just really got me ok

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Animal Farm

Male Yandere Farm Harem x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, brief mention of cockwarming, brief mention of scenting, cum milking, yandere farm hybrids, detained reader, breeding kink, harpies, bull men, centaurs, dog men, cat men) Word Count: 860 (Was chatting with a friend about how I had a farmer/gardener hat and how I just need overalls, a white bandana, and a pink shirt and I will look like a professional trans monsterfucking rancher, this short fic is the result of that discussion, I hope it will eventually serve as a source of asks in the future. I know it is brief, but I loved writing this.)

(Animal Farm: Mondays, the mini-fic involving the harpies, can be found HERE.) (Animal Farm: Tuesdays, the mini-fic involving the dog-men, can be found HERE.) (Animal Farm: Wednesdays, the mini-fic involving the centaurs, can be found HERE.)

 When you had first taken the leap to add monster ranching to your farm you were unsure if it would be a profitable venture, there were not many such places where you lived, but you did not know if demand would be high for unorthodox products such as monster semen.  You started off with just one centaur, he produced huge quantities of cum from milking him twice a day, and it sold so well that you were soon able to add yet another centaur.  Two was plenty to keep fulfilling the centaur semen needs of your small community so once you had enough funds you invested in three harpy men that laid a ton of eggs, despite being males, and they also produced some extra ball batter for you to peddle as well.  Now you were making money from your usual crops, harpy cum and eggs, which were highly prized, and centaur cum. In almost no time at all you were ready to add yet more monster men to your growing ranch.  Three large bull men now called your little slice of paradise home, their jizz was similar to the centaurs, but the flavor was quite a bit different and used differently in recipes. It also had a slightly different use in folk medicine as well.  Milking and feeding all the monster men on your ranch was hard work but very profitable, but soon you noticed that eggs were being stolen and you eventually caught the culprits drinking from your centaurs early one morning.  Two cat men desperate for food. You adopted them and used them for pest control around the crops and provided them with food and shelter in their own stable. You also added their cum to your product list.  To make sure you did not have any more thieves though, and possibly more dangerous intruders, you got three dog men who patrolled your property in shifts, all they needed to keep them happy were some holes to breed and you, and the cat boys who were constantly in heat, were happy to provide them with a place to dump their seed.  Now you had cat, dog, bird, bull, and horse hybrids on your property as well as many exotic crops which you had learned responded really well to having monster cum mixed into the compost. Your business was BOOMING, it was perfect. The monster men all got along with one another for the most part, and they were all extra sweet to you, the brawny bull hybrids even helped you plant and harvest your fruits and vegetables.  It was a great life, for a while.

 But you grew so many things and sold so much monster cum that you were gone off at the market far too often for your monster’s taste. They convened and decided that the proper place for you was with them, at the farm where you had an entire harem of mighty beast men to look out for you.  After they decide this they confront you when you get back from the market. You try to reason with them but they are all very adamant, you will be their little mate that they kept close and safe and that was simply all there was to it. They could milk themselves and the centaurs and bull men could easily haul the cart to market and one of the cat men could deal with customers because they were so sweet and charismatic.  There was only one problem, who would get to spend time with you?  They made up a strict schedule to avoid any fighting. On Mondays you would spend your time with the harpy men, who greatly enjoyed tweeting and singing to you when they were not busy breeding with you.  On Tuesdays you were property of the dog men, who always left you smelly and covered in their musk and cum.  Wednesdays meant you belonged to the centaurs, they liked to run around with you riding them while wrapping your little human arms around their muscular torsos, and they also adored using you as a cock sleeve, bulging your tummy out as they bred you.  Thursdays you belonged to the felines. They were normally bottoms for the dog men, but they still greatly enjoyed using you as a cumdump. When they finished mating with their beloved human they became the cuddliest of all the hybrids, purring and nuzzling and sleeping all snuggled up with you.  Fridays you were with the three bull men, which meant that you spent damn near the entire day being used as a cock warmer that was swapped between three equally well hung dicks. When they weren't having you sit on them, and oftentimes while they were, they were grooming and licking you, feeding you, and in general babying their sweet owner.  Saturdays and Sundays you were allowed to rest, and you needed it. But you never had anywhere near enough energy to even attempt an escape, and even if you did the dogs would just sniff you out. So you had had to accept your imprisonment at the hands of the monster men you supposedly owned.  

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere monster men #yandere farm #yandere harpies #yandere bull men #yandere centaurs #yandere cat men #yandere dog men #yandere harpy #yandere bull man #yandere centaur #yandere cat man #yandere dog man #farm harem #monster farm harem #yandere monster farm harem

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐄𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗 | Teaser

When second chances are wasted, there's only one thing left to do.

Tags/Warnings: Dystopian AU, Werewolf AU, Alpha!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Angst, Some fluff, romance but he's a bit weird about it pls let him cook he's awkward okay, Violence, crime and.. bad stuff.

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: oh look another werewolf fic oops. BTW if you do not like any of the tags or the trailer doesnt vibe with you, don't read the story. I literally have tons of other content for you instead. Thanks.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Do you think that people can change?”

No. Jungkook does not believe that people have the ability to shed their dark desires once they've shown their ugly faces to the world. Once someone has lost control over themselves and their inner demons even just once, it’s over. A wolf's inner beast set free won’t be tamed again, by anyone. There is no coming back from that- and a crime committed has to be punished, especially when there’s not even any effort put into areas trying to redeem one’s self. second chances should always be valued highly if given-

Because everyone has to face judgement for their actions, and if those second chances are wasted, he is the man who will execute the fitting punishment.

Jungkook doesn't believe in second chances.

A man who’s laid his hand on his wife will never truly change his mind and put the shackles onto himself after the line has been crossed. A cheating spouse will not suddenly become loyal as a dog again just because they realize the hurt they’ve caused. A murderer can’t give back the life they’ve taken even if they desperately want to. A young wolf lost to a frenzy can’t gain back their sanity with the snap of a finger.

He is part of the new world’s law.

Violence is the punishment put on people who can’t seem to keep themselves in check even after second chances. Violence is the final answer to the worst of the worst, the people who will never change.

Violence is the thing that changes people- from being alive to no longer being a threat to anyone ever again.

To Jungkook, these people are like maggots, infesting the cities and homes of families who just want to exist and live. Jungkook is the pest control, he removes those insects, cleans out the infestations.

Saves potential victims.

“I didn’t do anything!” the man slurs a little, alcohol in his veins causing him to visibly struggle with his bodily functions, even if he wants to desperately be sober in this moment. You’re sitting in the corner still, watching, well aware not to interfere with a man sent by the people in charge of the wolf’s law to carry out the final judgement.

“Evasion. Armed robbery, twice. Domestic abuse, twice. Attempted kidnap of a child while intoxicated.” Jungkook lists, having memorized what this person is being accused of- or rather yet, has already been judged for in the past. “You’ve shown that you do not aim to change.” He says, not even looking at you once. Instead, he just walks closer, like a predator, staring down his prey. “And now, keeping an omega hostage? Not exactly the actions of a man innocent.”

“I-“ the man tries, but he doesn’t get far with his words. “-There’s- nothing happened- Tell him! Nothing happened, right-?” He asks you, who’s staring him down.

Jungkook looks at you as well now, awaiting your answer.

You’ve got a life in your hands.

Your lips part, but you can’t speak- when suddenly, the man moves again, lifts his hand as he steps towards you, ready to intimidate you into answering if needed- but Jungkook is faster, having seen enough. Even if nothing happened- yet- surely if he was to leave, you’d be another body found. “Where- where are you taking me?” the man begs to know, unable to really go against the hand that holds the back of his head by the hair, fingers tightly dug into the locks to have a secure hold on him as he drags him into a corner or the small, run down house.

In this moment, Jungkook looks like a different person to you. There’s no trace of the man who just wants to help others. The hands that force this stranger to his knees aren’t the same that helped you stand earlier that day, hold gentle and without any intention to hurt. Those eyes are dark as coal, like two black voids swallowing any reflection whole.

“I'll take you straight to hell, where you belong.” Jungkook simply answers the man, before he lets go-

And takes out his gun, to fire the first shot of many.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

[superbat-love]

Teacher: Hello Mr Kent, this is Mrs Smith speaking, Jon’s teacher. Will you be picking your son up from school?

Clark: Give me half an hour. I’m just…caught up in something urgent right now. [someone screeching in the background]

Teacher: [alarmed] What was that? Mr Kent, is everything all right?

Bruce: Oh, he’s probably dealing with that nasty pest problem. [takes the phone and puts it on speaker] Clark, it’s me. Do you need help?

Clark: No, I can handle it! Take that! [more screeching in the background] Bruce, there’s more of them! The spiders are pushing us back!

Bruce: Just as I suspected, a spider infestation. [sounds of explosions on the phone] Large spiders. HUGE. Well, you know how big spiders can get in Kansas.

Clark: [incomprehensible yelling]

Bruce: Hang in there Clark, I’ll call the pest control. Jon can stay at the manor tonight with Damian, don’t worry about it. [ends the call and hands the phone back to the teacher] Come on, boys. Good day, Mrs Smith.

Jon & Damian: Bye Mrs Smith!

Teacher: [looking shell-shocked]

Superbat Family Fics

#de aged superbatfam au #superman fighting off monsters #bruce saving clark’s secret identity #superbat family ef #dc headcanon #batfam headcanons #batfamily headcanons #batfam shenanigans #incorrect dc quotes #batfam incorrect quotes #incorrect batfamily quotes #drabble #text post #dc fanfic #episodic fic #superbat #superman #batman #clark kent #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #batdad #superfam #superfamily #superboy #jonathan kent #jon kent #robin #damian wayne

[just-j-really]

Another Dreamling fic I'm probably not going to write: amnesia AU, but played for comedy/fluff. Hob forgets everything from the night he met Dream onward because of some sort of curse. Dream decides to look after him until the curse wears off, because he is Being a Good Friend.

So from Hob's perspective, a Mysterious Hot Guy told him he'd see him in 100 years time and then he woke up in the future, with the Mysterious Hot Guy refusing to let him out of his sight.

Hob is under the impression he's being kidnapped/seduced by some fey creature, and "show him the delights the future has to offer" is just how this guy flirts.

Hob is not opposed.

Meanwhile Dream is being dragged along on a whirlwind tour of the year 2023 by a Manic Pixie Dream Medieval Peasant who wants to see absolutely everything there is to see in the future right now immediately.

(I am a little bit thinking of the festival dance scene in Tangled, with Hob as Rapunzel. Only instead of Festival Activities he is enthusiastically dragging Dream around to the various Sights of modern London.)

The Sights in Question are this bizarre mix of 'things a modern person would consider an attraction in modern London' and 'entirely banal parts of modern London' and Hob is having the time of his life. The future has stores full of more food than he's seen??? And types of food he's never seen??? And spices and off-season fruit just sitting there??? And fabric is so soft now???? And medication and pest control are just??? Available??? Life is so rich!!!!

(And on the other hand like. This man was excited about playing cards. Someone please show him an arcade. He is forcing Dream to play every multiplayer game available. Especially the driving ones. Neither of them knows how to drive.)

(Dream takes him to a museum and he's staring at a display from the 14-1500s marveling at how futuristic the technology is. He's actually more excited about that stuff than he is about the whole 'computers' thing because it's close enough for him to have some point of reference.)

(Also sidebar from the comedy- Maybe Dream shows Hob the ruins of the White Horse. Hob stares at the building for a long time, then starts crying. Not outright sobs, just tears steadily slipping down his face like he's not really aware of them. Dream panics and tries to comfort him, mentally kicking himself for showing Hob the one connection to the life he knows in ruins. But Hob, laughing now, explains that this was the first time it really hit him? That he's actually 600 years in the future, not in some fairyland Dream created. And that means that all the disease and starvation and war and world-ending horror he was staring down 600-odd years ago didn't. He was going to grit his teeth and live no matter what but the fact that the world made it here along with him? That humanity's still here? And managed to create antibiotics and planes and chimneys in the meantime? That's a goddamn miracle.)

And Dream is getting dragged along with Hob, at first reluctantly, but slowly falling for Hob's enthusiasm throughout the day/week/whatever. And this version of Hob is like. Outright flirting with him. He's outright flirting with a lot of people, fair, but Dream especially. And of course Dream's having a feeling about it, because of course the version of Hob who doesn't actually know him, doesn't know how cruel he was over the centuries, is the one who'd be interested in him.

The Manic Pixie Dream Medieval Peasant Tour of London ends up taking on a decidedly romantic note, after a few days. And one night, after an evening in a restaurant that Dream knows is one of Hob's favorites, where everyone around them was silently willing them to get a room because the tension between two people who are very carefully sitting on opposite sides of the table and not actually touching, just talking to each other, was far too palpable, Hob caves, and drags Dream into a kiss the second they get back to his flat.

It's a good kiss, and Dream lets himself enjoy it for a moment, because he'll never get to kiss Hob again so at least he can have the memory of this one. Then he gently breaks the kiss and tells Hob, equally gently, that they can't. That Hob doesn't remember the majority of their relationship, how cruel Dream has been to him. That his present self doesn't feel the same way.

And then Hob, who's been staring starry-eyed at Dream this whole conversation, says "I do, though."

And Dream is like "Yes I know you like me now with but the you with your memory intact does not."

And Hob's like "No, I do. I got my memory back right when I kissed you."

And there is, unfortunately, more confusion (Hob explaining that yes he has always liked Dream it's just that 600 years have made him minutely less reckless and also the current him remembers that they are friends and doesn't want to ruin that. But no, Dream is wrong on all counts, he remembers every moment of their friendship and he does like Dream the same way and holy shit??? There is a 'same way'???? Dream wanted to keep kissing him????)

And then they clear all that up and live happily ever after.

(Yes it was a True Love's Kiss thing)

#dreamling #hob gadling #my fic

[estro-gem]

Jax x Ragatha: The snake and the water spring

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis.

Author's note: I found this show by chance and I took a great liking to it! So now I did a thing, instead of studying for upcoming exams, because I love making things difficult for myself, apparently.

I have no idea what the fandom is like, but I'm playing it safe just to be... well... safe. I just loved the concept of this show so much that I couldn't help but be inspired by it! It got me thinking and I let it all out in this... thing.

I want to write more one-shot fics about the other characters and how they fit into this au too, but I don't know when I'll be able to.

WARNING! None of these characters are mine and everything mentioned and described is purely made-up fiction; inspired by works that are not my own. Nothing should be considered canon or taken seriously - we are all here to have some harmless fun! No age restrictions. I think this might be appropriate for all ages...?

Please show some love and support for Gooseworx; the creator of The Amazing Digital Circus!

I definitely butchered Gooseworx's characters by adding unnecessary 'relationship dynamics' and deviating from their original personalities. I promise that the actual show and characters are so much better than they are in my false portrayal of them.

SUMMARY:

A fanmade take on the events following Pomni's arrival and after the crew had dinner together. This is focused on Jax's point of view, but still written in the third person.

Jax confronts Ragatha after the pilot episode's 'dinner' and does his best to comfort her in a way that works for them. That's it.

Please enjoy!

THE SNAKE AND THE WATER SPRING

Jax was a desert snake.

Nothing but a cold-blooded pest that lived to find his next meal.

When one is left to die under the scorching sun, you can’t stomp on the sun for creating a desert, but you could stomp on the desert snake if it added to the pain of surviving in said desert. The Digital Realm was nothing but a desert sun – a cage with no exit and an evil with no target.

It was no secret why so many had lost their minds here.

Jax took on the role of being the snake. It was never announced or planned, but it was deemed necessary by all who came to know the realm. The inhabitants of The Amazing Digital Circus craved any sense of control; something they could hold accountable for their torment – something they could punish. A menace, parasite.

Evil with a target: Jax.

It was fun to act out while everybody went about their lives. He could unapologetically be the worst being known to man and thrive on the rage and hatred of all he had affected. If they hated him, he was fulfilling his role perfectly… and that meant they could stay sane and do their parts as he did his. Less people would be lost to insanity… and the group would grow stronger.

Everyone had a role in their system – an oasis was established, with Ragatha as the heart of the oasis; their very own water spring.

But when a new invading creature bursts into the oasis with no knowledge of this system, their system would be doomed. Pomni happened to be that invader. Everyone could collectively, yet silently agree that she was acting by her own careless devices since she arrived a few hours ago. She greedily soaked up their water source and left it barren, dry, and suffering.

Granted, Pomni didn’t know how their oasis worked, but it didn’t change the fact that she disrupted everything by showing up. She would have to catch on quickly and prove herself useful, before anyone else loses their minds.

They lost one of their own already… and they almost lost their beloved Ragatha; Jax’s equal and opposite.

Their precious water source.

Snakes offered venom, while water springs offered hope of life. They all desperately needed Ragatha to survive. While most would assume her to be fine after being fixed by Caine, Jax knew better than that. He saw her reluctantly stand aside Pomni to support her – beautifully acting within her role as she always would, but it was clear that Pomni still didn’t understand how scarce the water was by then. Rags was spread thin enough by handling the extra stress and enduring the continuous pain of being corrupted by the abstraction, but that didn’t stop Pomni from practically having a mental breakdown at the dinner table.

Jax saw that coming from a mile away. Thank goodness he silently took the open seat next to Pomni, silent in his insistence that the ragdoll should keep her distance for the time being. He’d give anything to destroy the little jester for abusing his doll. Ragatha was acting perfectly normal at the time – her masked smile perfectly set on her face – until it was time for them all to retire to their respective bedrooms.

Jax wished that he would’ve just dragged her after him when he booked it from the abstraction earlier today. Pomni would have been the perfect distraction for them to escape and get Caine.

He stood at Ragatha’s door after dinner.

Jax made a point to ring the doorbell this time. Usually, he’d just pluck out a key and saunter in like he owns the place, but with what happened today, he’d make an exception. Everyone has their limit – and someone has already reached their limit today. They couldn’t risk losing another one. Especially not Raggs. They all really needed her.

When she didn’t open, he tried the bell again. Nothing.

Well, time for the key, then.

He shoved his hand down his front pocket and fished out the doll’s room key. The bunny didn’t waste time opening the door. He wanted to see what state the girl was in, despite dreading the possibility of finding an abstracted amalgamation on the other side.

Silence.

Not even a creak was heard from the hallway. The room was lit up as it usually was, so that was a good sign, at least. Jax couldn’t see an obvious black body of eyes – another win. But where was Ragatha? He did see her walk into her room, so she had to be here.

He walked around, keeping his cool, casual composure fixed, despite no one being around. It was effortless at this point. It became a way for him to focus on what he could control in this crazy digital prison; himself.

He couldn’t, however, control his ability to spot a blasted ragdoll, it would seem. He scanned the room again, until his eyes fell on her ¾ bed. Could she-?

The bunny rolled his eyes at himself as he lowered himself onto his knees – maybe he could convince himself that he was not phased by the situation. Bending down, he peered beneath the bed frame.

Jax sighed in exasperation. Or was it relief? Both?

Ragatha was in the state she was in before retiring to her room. No gliching, no extra eyes.

Just Raggs.

She didn’t look good, though. The doll was curled up beneath her bed and blindly staring ahead of her. It didn’t look like she was breathing – not that they needed to anyway, but it was uncanny to see Rags like this. She was their voice of reason. She was a water spring in this desert.

If she dried up, their desert would be doomed.

Jax silently stood up and walked back to the open door again. No need to make a fuss over this. He took hold of the door handle and shut it from the inside. Key in hand, he locked the door and nodded to himself. Ragatha needed a raincloud… and he’d have to fill that role now. It’s the least he could do after leaving her to fend for herself when they found the abstraction today.

Why didn’t she run with him? Why did think she could fix someone whose mind was broken beyond repair? Why didn’t she just leave the rookie as bait?

Because that just wasn’t her role, was it?

If it weren’t for her nature – her role – none of them would have made it this far. It dawned on Jax, once again, how close they were to losing their beloved doll. How close they were to being stuck with an invader who knew nothing about what it took to survive in this hell hole.

Enough.

Back to the bed, crouched down and silent Jax positioned himself to lay down and simply look over the red head from a relative distance. There was enough space for the doll to crawl out of hiding without having to touch him. The bunny still hadn’t said a word. It’d be stupid to talk, and he didn’t feel like making the effort. He just wanted things back to normal again – well… as normal as it could have been.

Now Kaufmo is gone, a new creature was invading their home, tearing it up from the roots and tipping the delicate scales of the balance they worked very hard on creating. All because of a lunatic ringmaster having the bright idea of creating a fake exit-door. Someone better get that jester on a tight leash to get her to fall in line, like the rest of them were forced to.

He knew he, for one, wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit. It was his specialty – his role. The parasite. The menace. The instigator.

Evil with an actual target.

The sound of shifting and movement had Jax blink out of his own head. Ragatha was slowly and dumbly making her way out from under her bed. Her eyes were still fogged over and her face still eerily blank, but at least she came out of hiding out of her own will. In a matter of seconds, the doll was out from her hiding place and settled on the floor beside Jax. She was staring him in the eyes now, waiting for the bunny, silently pleading.

Jax hadn’t had his aloof-douchebag persona engaged since he locked Ragatha’s door. She didn’t need a menace now – she needed to be grounded; revitalized. She needed a dark raincloud to fill up the water spring they all needed.

He didn’t look forward to what needed to be done, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.

He moved to stand up and held out a hand to help her up. He took note of the way her hand was shaking when she took his and gently guided her to the bed. The red head was the first to sit, then moved to lay down on her back and numbly stare at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Jax gathered himself mentally and cautiously crept onto the bed and positioned himself to briefly hover over her, before lowering his full weight onto Ragatha.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, on the left shoulder with his ears folding back to floppily droop to his upper back… with his left hand resting on the opposite shoulder. His body, although slim, enveloped hers and caused her to sink slightly into the mattress. His legs just loosely laid over and aside the ragdoll’s. It was more important to have his weight resting on her torso anyway.

For a long moment, they just motionlessly laid on the bed like this. To an outsider, it would look like they fell asleep atop each other or simply cuddled together very closely.

An outsider wouldn’t see that Jax was focused on the slow process of Ragatha’s body relaxing under his weight and her breathing slowing to a regular rhythm. An outsider wouldn’t have known that this was hardly the first time they’d done this – how long it took Jax to learn that this make-shift deep-pressure therapy was the most effective grounding technique for Ragatha to collect herself again.

They wouldn’t understand that Jax didn’t do this out of wanting to, but rather out of necessity.

Jax didn’t like to be touched. If anything, he was very capable of merely tolerating it. Everyone in the circus knew that he was touch-averse; some even used that as leverage to mess with him if the situation called for it. It was a necessity that he endured to keep his doll sane – to keep anyone of importance here in the circus, sane. Their whole lives revolved around mental strength. It was all just a matter of staying sane.

The laid there for what felt like a lifetime.

Slight shifting beside Jax alerted him that the doll was moving her arms – previously stiffly pinned to her sides. This was good, she felt comfortable enough to move around now!

Her left hand gently snaked up to the bunny’s head and slowly, softly petted his ears in a longitude motion. Her right hand wrapped loosely around his middle-to-lower back – motionless. This was bad, Jax did not like being touched like that!

While he was fine with the rhythmic touches of Ragatha’s left hand, he despised the idle position of the right hand resting on his back. He couldn’t prevent himself from tensing up in discomfort.

Bad touch, bad touch, bad-

This caused the ragdoll to tense up and rip her hands off him as if he burned her.

Oh no you don’t! We are not starting all over again.

He slowly pulls away and propped up unto his elbows, hearing Ragatha’s breathing pick up as she presumably spirals into her own thoughts on how he was going to leave her like this. Jax cast down a disapproving look. He broke his gaze to unceremoniously take her right hand – now clutched close to her chest – and intertwined their fingers, before resting his head on her left shoulder once again. He close eyes as he use his free hand to put her left hand on his head again, waiting for her to resume her petting.

Good touch; this was a good touch. Please understand.

Thankfully, Ragatha relaxed… and continued her previous slow, rhythmic motions. Slowly, Jax felt her relax once again and he indulged into her need for touch by stroking his thumb over hers occasionally.

Soon they fell into a rhythm; Ragatha would pet Jax’s ears 3 times, then it was his turn to stroke his thumb over hers. Then they would repeat the routine. This also helped Jax cope with the touching; the routine. The rhythm.

It felt like hours ticked by as the two just practiced their little unspoken routine. Jax grew used to it after a while, almost forgetting that his new mattress was now a sentient ragdoll and completely tuned into their rhythm of touches.

Pet… pet… pet… thumb. Pet… pet… pet… thumb.

Jax didn’t like touch, but he loved routine.

The doll and the bunny’s time together, once nothing but grounding techniques, grew to become an intimate exchange of touches and caresses – all wrapped in a routine, like a dance. Jax felt warm and fuzzy inside; for once he basked in the moment of enjoying his dolly. He lazily wondered if Ragatha felt the same. He shifted his head to look at her.

The doll looked down to meet his eyes when she felt him move. He could swear that she looked at peace, basking in the bliss of their closeness. For some reason, she looked like an angel. They all saw her as their angel. Had he successfully pinned a heavenly body beneath him?

Her gentle, longing gaze made a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt from his core.

This wasn’t the first time this feeling invaded his being when they did this – as rare as these moments were. He wasn’t sure when he started experiencing such feelings during these rare encounters, but as months crawled by, he felt drawn to his dolly more and more. Based on how she looked at him, he could only assume that she felt it too.

Something so foreign, yet so familiar.

He didn’t fail to spot the warmth rushing to her cheeks when their eyes met. She looked so ethereal beneath him, especially when her breathing picked up under his firm gaze. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were lidded. This time, it wasn’t fear or overstimulation. It was anticipation. It was desire.

Jax internally flinched at the tingly sensation when he smoothly burrowed his face into Ragatha’s neck. She shivered at the breath he let out against her skin. He could tolerate the touching a little longer, as long as he could see her crumble again. He wanted to see her walls crumble again.

“Jax- ”

Oh… he had to hear her again. More clearly, next time. This was torture, but she made him into her own personal masochist. His skin crawled at the sensation of her skin shivering against him, but he needed more. He could take it. Just a little longer – he just had to stand these sensations a little longer. He looked at her again.

Ragatha was reverting to a helpless puddle. The doll’s arms were gripping at the covers beneath her, successfully eliminating the bother of excessive contact that he despised. Jax didn’t know if she did it with that intension or without thinking, but either way, he was thankful. He really wanted more.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He lifted onto his elbows again and – dare one say – lovingly looked at her face. She could only peek back at him, breathing slightly faster than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaky hand rise from the covers and hover next to his cheek, while her eyes pleaded for his mercy. He hesitated but bit the bullet to comply; leaning into her touch while desperately trying to ignore the odd tingles. Jax convinced himself to kiss her wrist and drowned himself in the pleasure of hearing her softly call his name.

He only heard it because he was listening so closely for it.

Yes.

DING DONG

In a flash, Jax braced himself up into a crouch and slammed his foot down with a mighty THUMP upon hearing Ragatha startle into a fit when the doorbell chimed. His hair on his back stood on end and his claws ripped through his gloves, leaving gouges in the covers beside the doll’s head.

His precious doll was disturbed again!

He heard her soft cry of fear and his blood boiled with a thirst for vengeance. Only he can make her cry out. He’ll skin the soul that dared to-

“Ragatha…? Can we talk?”

That DAMN jester!

“Jax?” a quiet voice trembled in his ear from beneath him. Jax stopped glaring at the door to softly glance down and see what his little doll wanted.

“Don’t…” Raggs sounded like she was begging while being held at gunpoint, whispering despite their rooms being enchanted to not hear anything from the outside when the door is shut.

Jax wouldn’t dare let that thing inside. Raggs was upset enough as it is.

“Look, I know it probably wouldn’t make a difference…” Pomni’s voice came from the other side door again, “…but I’m so sorry for running off… Again… I saw that exit and I had to see if it was real. No one else believed me and I started to think that I was losing my mind. You understand that, right?”

Jax placed both his hands down on the mattress, blocking the doll’s view of the door as if it could block the sound of the voice from reaching the Raggs’s ears, still hovering over her. He knew that his dolly didn’t want to hear anything the harlequin had to say now – he had half the mind to get up and bash the newbie’s head in.

“I hope we can talk about this some time. You are probably tired after such a long, crazy day.” Pomni’s voice died down near the end, “It feels like you’re the only good person here.”

She really is, but she’s too good for you. Selfish leech.

Jax looks down to the girl, still stiff as a board beneath him. Her eye was shiny with the swell of tears. He melted at the sight – anger simmering down. She was just a sweet little rag dolly, she didn’t deserve any of this, but oh, he was so happy to see Ragatha finally emote something again. She was OK again. Their water source was filled once again, now threatening to spill over. He’d happily welcome the flood.

He needed her.

The sound of fading footsteps causes Jax to rip his eyes to the direction of the door. His hearing was better than the dolls, probably thanks to being a rabbit.

Good riddance.

Ragatha seemed to relax at the sight of Jax deflating his stance, reading that Pomni probably left her door. She hesitantly reached up to cup Jax’s cheek. Jax followed her hand’s motion and scoffed, cringing at the invasion. He’s had enough touching for a week. It sucked to leave his doll so soon after being distressed again, but he couldn’t bring himself stand any more of this. He quickly got up and smoothed out his clothes, but not without missing the flash of hurt in the doll’s eyes. He felt bad, but he had to be strong with the new girl around, so straining himself now would only make matters worse and mess up the whole system.

Still, seemingly bored, Jax stood in his spot while rocking on his heels and looking off to the side, only sparing her a glance. Raggs sat up by then. She looked a little worse for wear, but it’s an improvement from hiding under her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin in her hands. The hurt in her eyes was long gone, but she looked tired. Poor thing, Jax shared the sentiment.

He felt her eye bore into the side of his face and the bunny couldn’t stop himself before he rolled his eyes and looked to her again. He could’ve choked on air when he saw her face, but the years of steeling his demeanor left no trace of his inner turmoil.

Raggs sported that longing look in her eyes again.

They were so close this time – closer than they’ve ever been before. Each time they spent together on nights like this, although few and far between, they grew closer… and hungrier. Neither understood what it was, but they never had the chance to just collapse into it, tonight being the closest to that.

But there was always something, right?

Jax allowed gaze to soften. His doll offered a small smile that almost ripped his heart out if his chest. It was drenched with melancholy of something she knew they could never have.

Because their roles in their little ecosystem didn’t allow for it to ever be theirs. It would never work.

This was survival.

The rabbit steeled his demeanor once again, but this time, his doll’s face didn’t fall.

Good, as it should be.

Jax walked to the door and fished out the key from his front pocket. He didn’t bother looking back. If he did, he wouldn’t have the will to leave anymore. When he opened the door, though, he couldn’t help but mumble out teasingly.

“See yah later, Doll~!”

He wished that he could shout his affections for her out into the void instead.

“I’m not your doll.” Ragatha responded, voice still wobbly and tired, but perky regardless. She knew just how to indulge him.

Yes, she is… she always will be.

Fanart: Evil with a target

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

#the amazing digital circus #fanfiction #tadc fanfiction #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #jax x ragatha #bad analogies #tadc oasis au #oasis #mutual pining #angst and fluff #soft jax #touch averse jax #deep pressure therapy #aggressive cuddling #psychiatric episode #unhealthy coping mechanisms #healthy coping mechanisms #Jax has one line of dialogue #jax hates pomni #ragatha is trying her best #everyone is traumatized #yeehaw new fandom #i cant tag #tadc pomni #animal instincts #gooseworx

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Shelby shows up with her switch case slung over her shoulder. You don’t really touch your system anymore, only when she’s around. The last time you tried to boot up, the update took too long and you lost interest.

“So, MarioKart?” She asks.

“I told you, we’re swimming. My dad just left for his stupid work thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring a suit,” she frowns.

“Why? I said--”

“It’s late. The water’s cold,” she whines.

“Really, Shel,” you roll your eyes, “why don’t you just play your switch by the pool then and I’ll go swimming.”

“Wow, you don’t have to be rude. You know I’m not comfortable in swim suits,” she sneers, “what’s gotten into you, anyway?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve grown up,” you sigh, “I’m over playing video games in the dark. I want to live.”

“Fine, we can sit by the pool. Can I have a blanket?” She huffs.

“Whatever, grab one,” you wave vaguely. She knows where everything is.

You head off down the hall to the French doors and step out in the dimming air. The solar lanterns glow dully as the sky dulls slowly and you strut over to the pool in your new suit. The red might be a bit much but you’ve been working hard.

You sit with your legs in the pool as you search through your phone for a playlist. You connect to the bluetooth speaker and play some buzzy pop. Shelby comes out with a throw around her shoulders and her switch clutched to her middle. You don’t get why she’s so shy. She’s pretty enough and she has a nice shape to her hips. If she smiled and maybe did something with her hair, or wore nicer clothes she might not feel so crappy.

You hum along with the music as her nintendo tinks and deeps under the drone. You push yourself off the edge and dip under the water. It’s refreshing. You don’t see why she doesn’t just hope in in her undies. It’s just the two of you.

As you break the surface, you hear Shelby’s voice but her words are garbled. A low timbre comes in return and you whip around to face the fence. Sam’s once more popping his head over, leering as you wipe the water from your eyes.

“There you are,” he smirks, “was just checking in. Me and Bucky got some extra dogs and we’re about to do some smores. Wanna join?”

You nostrils flair and your lashes twitch as you consider the offer. Sure, you’d love to go over and show off your new fit for Bucky but if it means spending time with Sam, it’s not really an opportunity. You shrug as Shelby stares at her lap. Oh yeah, she’s shy. And the perfect wing woman. You can distract the pest with her.

“Do the smores come with drinks?” You challenge.

“Are you two a package deal?” He sticks his tongue, “don’t need a sausage fest.”

Shelby mumbles your name and gives a desperate look. You wade through the pool to the ladder and climb out, the water slaking down your body. You grab the towel from the chair next to your friend and wrap it around yourself, knotting it low between your cleavage.

“Sure, you like smores, don’t you Shel?”

“Um, yes, but...”

“Come on,” you turn and lower your voice, keeping your face hidden from Sam, “loosen up, alright? It’ll be fun.”

“Please,” she begs.

You hush her and snatch the switch, “come on or I’ll throw this in the pool.”

“You wouldn’t!” She exclaims as she stands.

You send her a darting look then glance over at Sam with a sickly smile, “will you be a doll and go get our drinks ready?”

He chuckles and winks before he descends back behind the fence. You grab the edge of the throw and rip it away from Shelby. You look her up and down and shrug.

“Just do me a favour and distract him, alright?” You snip, “tell him one of your jokes.”

“He’s a stranger,” she ekes out.

“His name’s Sam, there, not a stranger,” you drag her by her wrist through the yard and along the side of the house.

“But... he’s old. Why would you want to hang out with him?”

“It’s not him I’m interested in,” you growl, “okay? Look, it’s just a bit of fun. You don’t have to do anything. I’m not planning on it either. I just want a few drink and to flirt a bit. You said it yourself Shel,” you stop her just outside Bucky’s gate, “they’re old but they’re rich, got it?”

She makes a face, “your dad’s rich.”

“So’s yours, but they’re both assholes. When’s the last time you saw yours, huh?”

She looks away. Her dad’s always on some important business trip and her mother never mentions the perfume on his clothes. You hate to bring it up but you may as well get something out of some old pricks at some point in your life.

“Just smores, alright,” you promise her and keep hold of her arm as you knock on the gate.

“Hey, girls, give me a hand,” Sam calls over, “hands are full.”

You open the back gate from the other side and find him waiting with two bright bottles in hand. The coolers aren’t what you expected. Hadn’t he teased Bucky for drinking Corona?

“Smirnoff Blue Raspberry, huh?” You take one and read the label, “didn’t take you for the type.”

“Oh, I got a hell of a sweet tooth,” he purrs, “speaking of, who’s this little slice?”

Shelby gurgles and you try to ignore her awkwardness.

“This is Shelby, we’re like best friends. Since grade school.”

“Mmm, best friends,” he nods as he looks her up and down, “well, come on in. The old coot is searching for marshmallows. I swear if I wasn’t around, he’d lose himself too.”

“Sure,” you utter dryly and take the other bottle, shoving it towards Shelby. She takes it reluctantly and eyes it with suspicion.

“It’s fine, it’s like five percent,” you squint at the corner, “I don’t think that’s very much.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you drank,” she whispers.

“Not a lot but...” you stop and sniff the neck, “smells alright.” You taste the bright blue elixir and hum, “like a popsicle.”

She takes a reluctant sip and her eyes roung, “mm, yummy.”

“See, it's fine,” you elbow her as you follow Sam into the yard. You've never been this far.

You take in the large oval pool and the grotto hot tub to the far edge of the lawn. Just like the front, it's well-kempt. The patio set all matches perfectly to the tile around the pool.

“So, you guys hungry? Got some spicy hotdogs?”

You look at Shelby, she gulps down another mouthful to save herself from replying. God, you gotta do everything.

“We'd rather the smores. I don't eat whatever hotdogs are,” you scoff.

“Huh, makes sense,” he gives you a lurid look, “how about you, Shelbz? Don't let her do all the talking? You want a nice thick sausage?”

“Don't be gross,” you nudge him out of the way and flick your fingers for Shelby to follow.

She tails you across the grass and you spread out across one of the loungers. You just want Bucky to come out and see you. You just need a bit of a thrill to tide you over, to get you through your next vibe-assisted session.

“Guess I'll go check on that dope,” Sam mutters, “always keeping me waiting.”

“Fine, fine,” you dismiss him.

He retreats and you pose yourself on the lounger, adjusting the towel so when you move the right way it'll come loose. It's not much of a plan but you'll play it up.

Shelby slurps loudly and you look up at her, “jeez, Shel, slow down.”

Her bottle is almost empty as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

“I'm nervous,” she quakes. “That guy… he's so… is he flirting with you?”

“He's flirting with you, dummy,” you shoot back, “what's up? You want his sausage?”

You cackle and she nearly chokes, “you know I've never–”

“Relax, I haven't either,” you trill, “it's a game, Shel. They wanna feel like they still got game and well, it doesn't hurt to get a bit of attention, does it?”

“I… guess not.”

“Don't even worry about it,” you snort, “they're probably getting close to bedtime. Just smile, will ya?”

She forces a smile and looks down at her bottle. Maybe she should have another drink. She's such a wet blanket.

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #series #drabble #au #girls just wanna have fun #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #falcon and the winter soldier

[syddsatyrn]

Je t'aime Violet

By Sydd Satyrn Chapter 1 ⛧ Chapter 2 ⛧ Chapter 3 Masterlist

⛧Pairing: - Alastor x OC!Reader Violet

⛧Warnings: Drinking, smoking, swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, eventually smut, adult themes, 18+ not for minors

⛧Words: 1.8k ⛧Fic playlist: Click here!

⛧Summary: Hello ladies, gentleman and nonbinary friends! I present to you, my series Je t'aime Violet. This story is staring my OC, Violet! She is a deer demon containing a lot of personality. With a gifted voice and a bit of jazz, she's got style and class on lock. After 7 years, Violet and Alastor's feelings towards each other never dissolved. Violet reconnects with the man who left with her heart, will she forgive him? Does Alastor have the ability to set his pride aside for love?

⛧Notes: @hellfiremunsonn is a total babe for being my beta reader.

⛧Chapter 1: Rye Whiskey The door slams shut behind you and you let out a sigh of relief, another show is finally over. After taking a seat in front of your vanity, you turn on the small television in your dressing room. You’ve been on tour for the past year and a half, playing at different venues, private events, and more. Today was the final show and you gave it all you had, the crowd seemed pleased. Even though you almost collapsed at the end of the performance, everything worked out in your favor. It's getting late so you pour yourself a glass of whiskey and take a sip. Being a Jazz singer isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure the fame and free drinks are nice, but the men are pigs. Just because you dance around in skimpy clothes and sing love songs doesn't mean you’re going to go home with whoever flashes a stack of cash your way. Suddenly a familiar voice shakes you from your thoughts. An odd commercial plays on the TV and you almost spit out your drink. Your soft ears perk up and twitch and your tail flicks from side to side. “Do you like blood, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course, you do! That's why you’re in hell! But what would you say if I told you there was a place to stay that had none of that? Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar. Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you! Here we offer fun things such as…Somewhat functional staff and 24-hour pest control! Custom rooms and just look at this parlor! Enjoy a Riveting conversation with our singular resident! Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel! Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!” That voice is unmistakable, but part of you can’t believe it’s true. Has Alastor really come back? Is he staying at this strange hotel? So many unanswered questions. You had a history with the infamous Radio Demon. A past you thought would never see the light of day. It was long before you found your passion for music, in a time when you thought nothing would make you happy. 

Alastor used to be your beau once upon a time. You both used to be so undoubtedly in love with each other. He used to sweep you off your feet and make you feel like the most beautiful thing in all of Hell. But that was a long time ago, and Alastor might not be the same guy you used to know, seven years is enough time to change a person. He was the one who broke it off, stating that he had some business to deal with. He was vague and aloof, he said he couldn’t stick around and keep you, that it would be unfair of him to make you wait. You told him it didn't matter to you, that you would wait for his return. He told you that he might not return at all, kissed your hand, and left you there in the rain.

You finished off the last of your drink, there was no way you could stay in the dressing room tonight. If there was even the slightest chance that you could see Alastor again you had to go. So you changed out of your stage clothes into a black dress, one that hugs your curves rather nicely. You put on a pair of knee high boots and your black lapel. After deciding to keep the pearl necklace and earrings on, you check your makeup in the mirror and grab your duffle bag before leaving your dressing room. The streets of Pentagram City were alive with debauchery and sin. Sinners were partying, gambling, and fucking their cares away. With a lit cigarette between your lips you walk for a while, heels clacking against the sidewalk. Your eyes scan the billboards, hoping to find any sign of the hotel. A few ads pop up for a porn studio where your dear friend works. She used to sing with you until she decided to get into the adult entertainment business. You don’t mind, as long as she's happy, then so are you.

Your train of thought is derailed when the image changes on the billboard. It now shows the Hazbin Hotel with a very familiar face standing outside, holding a sign and smiling brightly. Your eyes widen and you feel a tightening sensation in your chest, that smile. You had seen it countless times in the past, that charming, dashing smile.

The billboard changes once again and a phone number flashes on the screen. You reach into your pocket and grab your cell phone. Dialing the number, you take a drag from your cigarette and hold the phone to your ear. After a few rings, a woman picks up and greets you. “Hello! Hazbin Hotel, How can I help you?” She is so cheerful it's almost disgusting. “Hi there. I was wondering if you had rooms available?” There's a short pause and some shuffling on the other line, the woman speaks again. "Oh my goodness! Yes, we have plenty of rooms available!" 

You take another drag from your cigarette and speak again, "Can I check-in tonight? I'm actually in the city and-"

"Oh my, yes of course! Let me get you the address.”

"Great, thank you." You reply. The cheerful woman gives you the address and you end the call. You take one last puff off your cigarette and stomp it out. With the location committed to memory, you make your way to the hotel. 

The hotel is quite large, standing out against the dim and drab streets. A smile spreads across your face and you walk up the steps. The moment you open the door a small woman dressed in a maids uniform greets you.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I'm Nifty! And you must be a new guest!" She looks a bit disheveled and her eyes are wide. “Hello there Nifty,” You bend down and get on her level and smile at her. “My name is Violet. It's a pleasure to meet you, dear.” She squeals and grabs your hand, practically dragging you inside. Nifty points to the bar and introduces Husker the bartender as a “grumpy kitty”. You nod your head in agreement and follow her through the lobby. You walk up to the bar and give Husker a big smile. He grunts at you but returns your smile nonetheless. Nifty pulls out a stool and you set your bag down and take a seat.  “I’m going to go find Charlie for you, I’ll be right back!” Nifty exclaims as she runs off towards the elevator. You watch as the elevator doors close behind her. “What'll it be, Miss?” Husker asks in a gruff voice. He notices you have the same kind of features as Alastor, fluffy deer ears, a tail, and a toothy grin. “Rye whiskey, on the rocks if you have it.” You ask and Husker turns around to make it for you. Oddly enough you drink the same kind of Liquor as Alastor too. Just as Husker slides the drink over to you, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor catches your attention. You glance up and there she is—Charlie. The woman who now owns and runs this peculiar establishment. Her smile is warm and welcoming as she approaches you, her red curls bouncing with every step. “Violet, I presume?” she says, extending a hand towards you. You take it, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That's me,” you reply with a soft smile. “It's quite a place you have here.” Charlie's eyes twinkle with pride as she looks around the bustling lobby. “Thank you! We do our best to make everyone feel welcome and offer a chance at redemption.” You can't help but admire her determination and genuine desire to help others. “You mentioned having a room available?” You ask and take a sip of your drink. “Oh yes! Here, take this.” She says and hands you a key. “You’re on the third floor, room 103. We can talk more tomorrow, it's getting late and I’m sure you would like to turn in for the night.” You thank Charlie, Nifty and Husk before making your way to the elevator. The ride up to the third floor is smooth, and as the doors open, you're greeted by a quiet hallway lined with ornate wallpaper and dimly lit lamps. Room 103 is at the end of the hallway, and you feel a mix of nerves and excitement as you approach the door. The key slides in easily, and with a click, the door opens to reveal a cozy room with a large bed, plush armchair, and a window overlooking the city below. Dropping your coat and duffle bag on a nearby chair, you take in the room's atmosphere before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

The events of the evening whirl through your mind - Alastor's unexpected return, the allure of the Hazbin Hotel, and now being here in this room that feels both familiar and new. But for now, all you can think about is going to bed. You put on a pair of small black shorts and a large t-shirt. After you hit the lights and crawl under the covers, it doesn't take long for you to drift off to sleep. 

While you sleep, a shadow appears in the room, a silhouette of a man with a sinister smile spreading across his face. The shadow moves closer to the bed, the figure illuminated by the dim moon light filtering in from the window. A shiver runs down your spine as you sense a presence in the room, causing you to slowly awaken from your slumber. Your eyes flutter open and the shadow flees, you only catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye. You look around the room and you feel like someone is watching you, but there is no one here but you. You let out a sigh and try to go back to sleep, you must be seeing things.

As you try to shake off the eerie feeling, you hear a faint whisper in the darkness. Your heart races as you strain to make out the words being murmured. "Violet..." The voice is deep and sends a chill down your spine. You sit up in bed, your eyes wide with fear. "Who's there?" you manage to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. There is no response, only the sound of your own ragged breathing filling the room. The voice sounded just like an old radio, you know he is calling you. But you’re not going to chase him, if he wants to talk to you, he knows exactly where to find you. So with that, you roll over and try your best to go back to sleep, despite the fact that you are being watched.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #eddie munson x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin #alastor radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor smut

[lainiespicewrites]

The Atreides Era

Part 1

Buried in the sands

A/N: Hey everyone! obviously not my normal content! I've been working on updates on that as well! This is part of a writing Collab with my best friend @hey-its-roseaurum! We've both broken out of our comfort zone writing fics for each other's fave comfort characters. She will be posting about Sherlock so my Henry girlies definitely go check it out! I'll add the link once it's posted!

So I guess without too much warning here is my best effort at a Paul Atreides x OC fic

Summary: Paul Atreides and OC (Matar) and the other Freman are still fighting the Harkonnen in the spice fields. After almost losing his friend in battle Paul makes the decision it's time to go south. It's time to meet with the Emperor. His decisions will change the fate of his friends and the planet of Arakis. Paul knows this. He's seen it. But... at what cost?

Warnings: Description of battle, death, slight angst.

2k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s early that much is clear. The sun's intense heat has not yet started pouring over Arrakis, disturbing Matar’s peaceful sleep. What did disturb her was the amateur sand steps of the young man outside her tent. And the sound of his voice calling for her in a harsh whisper. Matar stirred with an agitated grumble, sitting up slowly and blinking her eyes to adjust to the soft light of dawn starting to creep in from the open flap of her tent. 

“What do you want, Paul Atredies?” She groaned. The footsteps outside her tent halted and were followed by a soft chuckle. Crouching down in front of the tent Paul popped his head in sending Matar a cocky grin. 

“Not Usul? Have I managed to offend you again already?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. Matar stares for a moment, watching his face and the loose wave of brown hair that’s fallen into his eyes. Interesting how they’re still so gray, his eyes, as long as he’d now been exposed to spice. Matar blinked the thought away, what did it matter? Paul Atriedies could have glowing red eyes and she’d pay no mind, he was a pest. A pest, who was her friend, one she’d grown fond of. But still a pest. 

“You’ve come to me, Paul Atriedes before the sun is fully awake. This better be important.” Matar answered him, falling back against her pillow. 

Paul was not discouraged by his friend's lack of energy or enthusiasm, crawling into the tent in the corner across from his friend still giving her the same dopey grin.

“How’d you know it was me?” He spoke softly now. His tone was now more gentle and letting Matar awaken properly before he poked at her further. 

“You walk like an elephant, I could hear you coming from miles away,” she answered him. 

“Hmm I suppose I do,” Paul agreed nodding. “Then we need to practice before we go into battle!” Paul's exclamation caused Matar to sit up. Now she was fully awake.

“Battle? What are you speaking of Usul?” The boy's smirk faded. His eyes are more serious now. 

“We got word more of Harkonnen moving in on the spice fields. They’re placing their harvester as we speak. We’ll need to move in on them quickly.”

Putting the moment of banter behind them Matar quickly composed herself. Pulling her hair back she tied her long dark hair into a tight knot. She swept her hand around her tent for a moment and found her head scarf to keep her safe from the day’s intense heat. Taking in a deep breath Matar’s eyes once again settle on the man sitting across from her. 

“Is Chani aware?” She asks. Her voice is smooth and calm. While she had not expected another fight. Or, ambush rather, against the Harkonnen. She was always ready. For those who control the spice control the universe. A mantra the Harkonnen were always chasing.  Neither Matar nor Chani, Matar’s closest friend, would submit to that fate. 

Paul’s eyes shift to the ground as he shakes his head.

“No, I figured it should come from you. She’s one of our most skilled fighters. Chani doesn’t trust me. It has to come from you, Matar.” a breath of silence falls over the two of them. For a moment. Matar thinks to be offended by this. Paul Atreides is only here to use her as a messenger. The thought is gone as quickly as it develops. There is no time for emotion. No time to dwell on the man who has shown up unannounced. 

“I will see her now. Go, gather the others. We’ll need to move before the sun is at its highest point. “ She said.  The man nods. But catches her wrist before she can leave the tent. 

“Matar, I- I’ve seen… something. You in battle and you…” He pauses. They lock eyes. The visions. One of the many reasons Stilgar and the other southerners believe the young Atreiedies is the Messiah. Matar, Chani, and a few of their kind believe it all to be a load of shit. 

However, the fear in his eyes at this moment cannot be ignored. “Please,” He pauses again emphasizing his words. “Be careful out there.” Matar doesn’t say anything. Holding his gaze she nods letting him know she understands whatever he’s seen has frightened him. He lets her go and the two of them leave the tent.  There’s a warm light over their camp. Many of the other Freman have started to gather in a common area. 

Paul and Matar walk in opposite directions. But before Paul is out of earshot Matar stops and calls for him. 

“Usul!” She calls. He turns back to her with a look of concern etched across his face. “Whatever you saw,” she pauses. “My fate is my own to make Paul Atreides,” 

Paul gives her another soft smile. He looks like he did when she first saw him this morning. Innocent, and childlike.  There’s a stirring feeling in her gut.  She has no time to address this. They have a planet to protect. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chani is awake and preparing for the day when Matar finds her. 

“Bit early for you isn’t it?” Chani asks with a smirk. 

“Funny,” Matar recants quickly, “I got a visit from Lisan al Gaib this morning.” Better to get to the point quickly. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve started to buy into this Messiah facade?” Chani questions. Eyeing her friend with a curious expression. Matar scoffs

“Why do I sense you’re already feeling hostile this morning?” Matar says, “Of course, I don’t believe it, I believe what I can see Chani. And what I see is that Paul Atreides has helped us successfully fight against the Harkonnen attacking our spice fields. 

“There’s another harvester?” Chani asks although it’s clear she knows the answer already. 

“He doesn’t believe you you trust him. But I know that you will protect your family.” Matar says. 

“I don’t trust him. But I see what he’s done. And It can’t be ignored. Believe me, I have tried. “ She pauses with a smirk. “And as long as I’m fighting beside you, I’ll always show up for the fight.” 

“Don’t be soft,” Matar teases. Smacking her friend on the shoulder. 

“It’s you who’s gone soft Matar. Don’t get so close to him, his mother can not be trusted. She seeks more power than anyone should hold.” Chani warns

“We are not close, But I believe he could be a good ally, and that woman can burn for all I care. Now come, we’ve got to prepare for an ambush.” She smirks as she and her friend set out to join the other soldiers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silence.  Nothing but the sound of the wind stirring the sand. A maua’dib, a small desert mouse, could be heard skittering across the sand dune. Unsuspecting of the unrest that is soon to occur. Matar’s eyes scan over the top of the dune, zeroing in on the harvester only feet away from her and the others. Paul and Chani have, for the time being, come to a truce and have gone undetected underneath the foul piece of machinery. Matar and the others are waiting for their signal. This is when they will move in. 

A loud blast breaks the silence. A shot attacked the Harkonnen craft surveying the harvester and the security. The signal. The others jump to their feet. Stilgar and his men attack the security with daggers. Slicing into them and killing them before the intruders even see the Freman warriors coming. Matar takes a shot at the harvester aiming for one of its claw-like pillars. The blast hits but it quickly gains her attention. She makes quick steps and rolls out of the way as a Harkonnen security tries to land an attack. He misses. This was a fatal mistake for him. Granted he was always going to die. Another Freman soldier stabs the Harkonnen before he can advance any closer. Matar locks eyes with the person and they nod at each other before they continue their battle. She stands, once again aiming for the harvester. This time she aims right in the center. Fuck it. No more time for games. Time to blow this thing up. Taking one last look to be sure her friends will not become casualties she takes the shot. She doesn’t watch it land. Matar is pulled back by another Harkonnen. He has a dagger held to her ribcage. She barely hears the sound of the explosion over her heart pounding in her ears. At least she landed it. One last explosion before the bitter end. She twists to break the hold but the man has a tight grip on her neck. Fuck. 

He lifts the blade ready to plunge it into her chest. And then. He goes limp. His body falls to the sand. Matar sucks in a deep breath. Finally, she turns. Paul’s eyes are wide as they search her for injury. 

“Are you?” He begins. She holds up her hand to stop him. 

“Do not fuss over me, I am not dead,” she tells him. With one last thud. The final Harkonnen is dropped to the ground. Someone, Stilgar likely, calls for the rest of them to gather quickly and evacuate the area. The Freman army and their messiah head back to camp. However, halfway back Paul stops them. 

“Gather your things. This is the last time we fight the Harkonnen like this. Tomorrow, we go south.” He states. Chani and Matar exchange a look. 

“Paul Atreides we cannot…” Chani begins to protest

“I will not continue to watch them abuse this planet. I will not wait for the emperor to make his move. We are going south. And we will take on the emperor.” He states again. 

The rest of the Freman army cheers. Paul Atreides, once again is fulfilling their prophecy. But Matar. Feels like a dagger has been stuck in her side. He once told her, He wished nothing more to be equal to her. But he couldn’t mean that. Not when he was headed south to possess more power than any person should ever wield. 

The Freman army arrived back at camp. Some celebrated. Some dressed wounds from the day's battle. 

“He’s a good fighter, but I knew he could not be trusted,” Chani says absentmindedly. The girls are both watching Paul off in the distance while Stilgar celebrates their success.

“Do you have to be right about everything?” Matar questions. 

“No, just tends to pan out that way,” Her friend says before wandering off to her own tent. Matar sighs finding a seat and taking out her dagger sharpening it with a stone.  After a few moments, she feels a presence and then there is someone sitting beside her. 

“Matar,” Pauls voice speaks. 

“I don’t wish to speak to you Usul,” she says, continuing to sharpen the blade. He ignores her grabbing her wrist and pulling her attention from the dagger. 

“You almost lost your life today.” He says. Matar shrugs. 

“I was protecting my people Paul Atredies, it’s what we do,” she responds. 

“Maybe, but I have lost far too many people I care about. You will not be next Matar.” He says.

“Paul,” Matar begins. 

“Going south, I’ll take control. I can protect you and protect us all once we’ve made an attack against the emperor,” he argues. Matar is stuck. She is angry. She doesn’t want this. She opens her mouth to recant. To tell him he is wrong. Nothing comes out. She pauses again. She’s quiet for a while and then.

“Usul. You told me once. About these…oceans, on your home planet. Describe them again.” She requests. Surprising Paul and herself. 

“Caladan is covered in oceans and water. They are… as blue as your eyes.” He smiles at her. “As deep as them too. There’s no end even as you look at the horizon. They go on forever.” He explains. 

“I still… do not believe you Paul Atreides,” Matar answers, ignoring the growing warmth in her face. 

“You will,” Paul says without thought. 

“We, shall…”

“Lisan al Gaib, Come” Stilgar calls, “There’s much to do before our journey tomorrow. We must prepare!”

Matar lets out I sigh. 

“You’re celebration awaits Paul Atreides.” she says. 

“Matar,” He says softly. 

“I will see you at dawn…Lisan al Gaib.”  a moment of hurt flashes in Paul's eyes but it’s gone before Matar can register it. They both turn and part for the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This is Part one of ? We're still discussing the terms of this collab LOL

IF you'd like to be added to a tag list for this story please let me know! I know for my followers that read my Henry fics this is a bit different but I hope you enjoyed this too. If you decide to give it a read :) Thank you all. Dont forget to check out @hey-its-roseaurum Sherlock fic!

Tag list:

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood@gummydummy19@deandoesthingstome@shellyshellshell@mary-ann84@starfirewildheart@foxyjwls007

#dune fanfic #dune part 2 #paul atredies x reader #paul atredies smut #Paul atreides x oc #paul atreides #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet imagine #paul atreides imagine #dune imagine #dune part 2 imagine #writers on tumblr #fanfic writing #fanfiction #imagines #story collab #fanfic #dune fanfiction #Paul atreides fanfiction #timothee chalamet fanfiction #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing community #sand worm

[dark-mnjiro]

speaking in tongues ::: prologue

Author’s Note: hello… as you can clearly see the voices have won. This fic is entirely self indulgent/self ship and catered to what I want and I don’t care. No vague reader insert here so if that’s what you were looking for - leave, before you’re disappointed. Welcome to my hellsona hell. I hope you do like the story despite how self indulgent it is.

Credits: dividers by @/cafekitsune

Content Warnings: See the masterlist for a full list of content warnings you may experience throughout the storyline. Individual parts with certain triggers will be warned (that are not continuous throughout the story). Prologue does not contain anything I deem triggering outside the content warnings on the masterlist.

prologue

“For somebody I thought was my savior.”

“Hell’s growing population is becoming a problem…”

“They can’t kill each other,” another angel spoke up. “They just respawn in the Pride Ring again.”

The discussions with the top angels and Seraphim in Heaven had been droning on for hours. It was certainly posing a problem that their paradise could soon face an uprising with the sheer numbers spawning from Hell. Worry was evident on Sera’s face. Heaven knew they couldn’t just pray that humans would turn to righteousness and aim for a spot in Heaven.

The world had become infected.

Adam tilted his head to the side. This problem was clearly all thanks to his ex-wife, Lilith, and her piece of shit husband Lucifer. Who knew her voice alone would lead so many astray?

He sat up in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. “What if we gave them angelic weapons?”

Sera’s eyes narrowed at Adam. “Do what?”

Shrugging, he tilted his head. “We could just give them some angelic weapons. The problem takes care of itself.”

“And then what?” Another angel countered. “They turn and use those weapons against us?”

Adam scowled.

It was a valid concern. If those sinners could obtain angelic weapons could they turn on Heaven?

“What if we had them vote on some sinners to throw into an arena?” Adam suggested, tilting back his chair on its hind legs. “And whoever is last standing gets to live."

A sigh fell from Sera’s lips before sitting down in her seat. “We’re making a game out of their souls.”

“Sinners,” Adam corrected. “They’re in Hell as a punishment for being such awful human beings on Earth. It only makes sense to make them punish themselves for doubling their numbers. And tell you what.” Adam merely smirked. “If this idea doesn’t work… we just go down there and start exterminating pests.”

“Adam.”

Confusion filled his golden eyes. “What? Sinners can’t be fixed. We might as well get rid of the problem. They won’t suspect anything if they’re killing themselves versus us. So perhaps we try this option first.”

“How many times do I have to tell you we aren’t using violence as a way to control Hell’s population,” Sera said before sighing again as Adam let out a loud, painful groan. Pinching her nose, she looked down at the reports she had been given by some of the other angels about the growing trend of sinners entering Hell. “I think we should study them before we make our final decision…”

“So we done here?”

The frustration returned to Sera’s face as she glanced back at Adam. “Pressing matters to attend to Adam?”

Pouting, he set the chair back onto all four legs. “Well, my band-”

“Perhaps we should give you something more constructive to do,” Sera continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “We’ll send you to Hell… to the embassy to help with these studies. Return with your findings after ninety days.”

Disgust filled his face. “I’m not going to that shit hole!” Three months in Hell?! Was Sera out of her mind?

“It’s already decided. Go.”

“...fucking fine.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x original character #hazbin hotel adam x oc #hazbin x oc #adam x original character #adam x oc #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel adam fanfiction #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lee selfships #SIT #banners by cafekitsune

[msgexymunson]

Stray

Description: Eddie finds a kindred spirit.

Warnings: as far as I can tell, none! Pure fluff, gender neutral reader

A/N: Just a cute lil idea I had and I had to let it out so my brain would let me focus on mu next big fic. Enjoy!

700 words

Masterlist

"Eddie, where the hell have you been?" 

Flushed and panting, Eddie flops down onto the chair in the cafeteria, one arm held almost protectively across his chest. 

"What do you mean? I'm right fuckin' here!" 

Rolling your eyes, you shove his shoulder. 

"I didn't ask where you are, I asked where you were, doofus!" 

"I had shit to do, God, don't get your panties in a twist." 

You know you should drop it; being Eddie's best friend, you know him well enough to know when to stop. When his neck tightens like that, and his nose scrunches a little, you're sure he's being serious. 

It seems however, his little sheep aren't as perceptive. 

"Eddie, did I just hear a meow? Don't tell me you've brought a feral cat into the cafeteria?" Dustin says, arms waving in front of Eddie's face. 

"Just drop it, dude!" You see his flustered attitude, the tightening of his shoulders. 

"You found a cat Eddie? Fuck." Gareth says, hand reaching out to Eddie's jacket but he flinches from the approaching grip.

"You've all lost your minds. What's wrong with you? Imma have a smoke." And with that, he leaves just as mysteriously and abruptly as he arrived. 

The guys all stand in unison, each loud mouth expressing some theory or another. 

"Ok boys, enough chatter. Lemme speak to him." You wave your arms in a calming gesture to placate the growing hubbub and make your way to the bench where Eddie did his deals. 

Enveloped in the quiet whisper of the woods, you inhale the deep pine scent and cast your eyes on your best friend.

There he was, like he always was, sitting on the bench, cigarette in hand. Only it seems his face is halfway in his jacket, deep in conversation.

'Eddie?" Your voice rings a question, and he answers with a quick whip of his head. 

"It's OK, I'm just checking on you." You raise your hands in mock submission, inching closer to him, to take your obligatory seat opposite him.

He sighs so deeply you feel it in your marrow. 

"I'm ok, just, can you keep a secret?" He gazes at you with earnest eyes, eyes you'd been in love with for longer than you'd care to admit. 

"Eddie, it's me. Of course I can." 

His shoulders visibly relax at your words. At the same time, a very curious nose makes its way out of its leather jacket confines, sniffing the air. 

"Eddie, is that a raccoon?" 

He smiles. "Yeah. It's just a baby, I dunno where it's mom is, it was all alone." Eddie strokes at the baby raccoon's head making quiet shushing noises. It preens at his touch. 

"Jesus Eddie we should call animal control-" 

"No!" The strength of his shout nearly knocks the wind from you. 

He softens at your flinch, hand held out in supplication.

"They'll just put him down! Lucifer's not done anything wrong, just doesn't have his mother anymore but he's super sweet, he's just got a bad rep, you know? Doesn't mean he's bad, and why should we judge him anyway, just 'cause people labelled him a pest!" 

You watch the tears gather in Eddie's eyes as you finally connect the dots. 

"Oh, Eddie." You bite your lip, willing your own tears to retreat as you reach for his hand. He takes it gratefully, lost in each other's eyes for a moment. 

"He's not a pest. He's a little life. I tell you what, I know who could help. You know that Mr Clarke, the middle school teacher? Dustin talks about him all the time, I bet he could point us to a wildlife sanctuary, or a charity or something."

Eddie beams, face igniting like the rays of the sun. 

"You think so?" 

You stroke his knuckles, face turning a pale pink.

"I know so." 

Suddenly, Lucifer the Raccoon climbs out of the makeshift enclosure of Eddie's jacket and crawls it's way over to you. 

"See, he likes you!" Eddie grins. 

Taking the little ball of fur into your hands you hold it out at arm's length.

"I think you should think of a new name for Lucifer." You giggle, turning the baby raccoon this way and that. 

"Why?" 

"Because Lucifer's a girl."

Eddie laughs. 

"Lucy it is!" 

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munson-blurbs @zestychili @corrodedhawkins @indouloureux @cool-nick-miller

Masterlist

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie fluff #eddie munson fluff #stranger things drabble #eddie stranger things #stranger things fan fic #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie

[maenecoon]

tw (mostly mild) depictions of violence and blood, bc it's involves vampires, also major spoilers for a fic im working on rn

so

i may or may not have a vampire kimchay fic idea

except the execution of it is going to have me combusting into flames??

anyways, thoughts about kim finding an annoying baby bat in the forest. he wants to ignore it, but he can't. so fine, he takes it in.

except...

kim definitely doesn't know how to care for a feral bat.

anyways! cue sweet/fluffy/bat-and-vampire shenanigans! like babybat so sated with blood that he becomes a little drunk, or at least the bat-version of drunk. babybat who flies into the window trying to escape because he's not good at echolocatio. babybat who sneaks into kim's closets to bite holes in every single one of his silk shirts.

vampire!kim somehow being whipped af for this cute but annoying little shit that he's somehow adopted. feeds him blood pudding and gives him many head scritches. shows him his red string murder board and rambles about his murder plans and all. vampire!kim who started off detesting or tolerating this pest at best but unable to imagine starting a day without the weight of babybat curled up on his chest.

then the murder plan happens. kim wants korn (his father/sire) dead, bc who doesn't, and he sneaks in to "kill" him.

he's gone in, wooden stake and holy water and all.

he goes bat-shit crazy. bodies of full-sized vampires drop to the floor around them as kim works with ruthless efficiency. he's memorised the techniques of his father's men and their weaknesses. he's dreamed about this for centuries. and it's pays off.

and then enters korn.

korn was always going to be the issue.

kim had no plans of returning alive - he knows to end lorn by all means necessary even if it means his own life - but korn has gotten more powerful. sire bonds are difficult to break, and even if kim has been diluting the bond and doing his absolute best to weaken their link, korn still has kim in an iron grip.

(if you'd read my phayurain vampire fic, there's this thing about sires being able to control their fledglings because of a bond they share when a vampire (sire) turns someone into a vampire (their fledgling). )

anyways.

when suddenly a weight in his pocket starts to stir. it's the little shit, the bat. and kim's all panicked because little shit is small and harmless and now barely the size of half his palm? like, kim's on his knees and has his hands shaking with effort not to plunge the stake into his own chest, by the command of korn.

it takes just a second, but bat flutters out of kim's pocket. bat, with all the rage that a bat can muster, swings himself right on korn's face and digs his fangs into korn's eyes. the eyes are part of what maintains the sire-control that korn has over kim, and kim is able to use that split second to drive the stake into korn's heart.

the moment that korn falters, falling to the ground with a thud, is the moment that the bat drops to the floor.

kim thinks like yeah, fuck, that must've taken a lot out of this poor baby bat, and god that fall looked bad, when all of a sudden the bat is expanding. almost like his bones are breaking (and kim winces because that sounds anguishing) and reforming and he keeps growing bigger and bigger and bigger until kim realised that this was no bat.

this was a vampire, trapped in the form of a bat.

this is his fledgling, his fledgling who was supposed to have died.

chay.

yeah anyways!! fun little story that i'm working on rn!! lmk what you think/want to see, if you got to the end of this! !

#i am not great at writing murder revolution or planning ngl #so this is going to be a challenge #but also i want to shake things up a little and stop falling back on the fluffy #yk? #it's about time my stories had a little bit of Murder #i say that #but i also planned this #so i could write fluffy little batchay vampirekim scenes #so uhm #yes #kimchay au #kimchay #mae's kimchay vampire au #kinnporsche the series #kpts fic #kimchay fic #oops #vampire #vampire au #i just #fucking love vampires #and bats #anyways if anyone would like to read something like this do scream at me #i definitely need a sound board #or 5