#imagery collection starts

[pritvolny]

kolarpem's art really got me thinking about the extent of nikolai's scars

#i shall meta abt this as soon as i collect my spoons but #thinking about his scars just being like a pattern of veins across his body #thinking about the thick risen dark scars on his shoulder blades where wings would be #because his fingers get dark for the talons #i can only IMAGINE what his shoulder blade scars look like. #probably like a. bullet wound but bigger and deeper #thinking about the scars infiltrating from his neck to his jaw #creeping up towards his face when nights are bad #thinking about the scars not being too bad right after the war but #as the hold of the monster deepens. they start spreading over his body #kinda like an infection. kinda like tlou imagery #goes insane #i. ( ooc. ) back by unpopular demand. #the epicenter of his scars being at his breastbone and then spreading outwards. so true kolarp

[theniftycat]

What other Neil Gaiman work might you like?

The biggest thing to know about Neil Gaiman is that each work of his is a mixture of horror, fantasy, and subtle comedy.

That being said, each of his projects is pretty distinct from one another and there might be some that are more up to your tastes than others.

I haven't read some of his newer stuff (because I largely stopped reading as much since the early 2010s), but I'll do my best to remember what matters in other works.

Horror

The Sandman is a great work for horror fans. It's also great for mythology fans and other nerds, but horror is a major push and pull factors.

The comic is probably the greatest body of work Gaiman produced and it's recommended if you're a goth at heart and are comfortable with themes of death and humans being gods' toys.

The Sandman (TV) is a great adaptation, but it's very short so far and doesn't cover the best stories.

Coraline is a horror story for children. It doesn't have anything that's not suitable for kids, but it can be viscerally scary to some people. Both the book and the film are great.

Mirrormask is my personal favourite, it's a low budget film with mindblowing surreal imagery and one of the best soundtracks ever.

It's about a teenage girl who has troubles with her parents (who run a circus, btw) and who gets swiped up by her imagination into a bizarre world that is being eaten by her depression. Not a scary film, per se, but it's disturbing. However, it's a very warm film and it always makes me feel better.

Fantasy

Neverwhere is set in a dimension of twisted London Underground where everything that's straightforward in our world becomes weird and too real.

It really tickled my imagination, I highly recommend the book.

Stardust is set in a more high fantasy setting.

It features kings, witches, ghosts, and a star that fell to the Earth. It has a young protagonist who's not exactly the best or the brightest person, so if you hate such things, stick to the adaptation. In my opinion, the book is just lovely.

American Gods is a darker fantasy that asks the questions: "What if every god people ever believed in became real through the power of their worship? And then what if that worship started fading?"

It's set in the USA and because that country is such a melting pot, there are many gods. And not all of them are happy. This is the book that gave Neil Gaiman his reputation of a writer who loves weird sex scenes.

Humour

Stardust the film is often compared to Princess Bride. It's lighthearted, funny, full of imaginative adventures.

Just a very nice film with an all-star cast.

Anansi Boys is a spin off of American Gods, but it's a lot more lighthearted.

Anansi is a trickster god, so you know things will get funky.

I haven't read The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane yet, but I hear they're very good as well.

Also, short story collections or Norse Mythology might be a good place to start if you want to get a feel of Neil Gaiman as an author first.

#neil gaiman #book recommendations #neverwhere #stardust #mirrormask #anansi boys #coraline #the sandman #american gods

[nasa]

NASA Inspires Your Crafty Creations for World Embroidery Day

It’s amazing what you can do with a little needle and thread! For #WorldEmbroideryDay, we asked what NASA imagery inspired you. You responded with a variety of embroidered creations, highlighting our different areas of study.

Here’s what we found:

Webb’s Carina Nebula

Wendy Edwards, a project coordinator with Earth Science Data Systems at NASA, created this embroidered piece inspired by Webb’s Carina Nebula image. Captured in infrared light, this image revealed for the first time previously invisible areas of star birth. Credit: Wendy Edwards, NASA. Pattern credit: Clare Bray, Climbing Goat Designs

Wendy Edwards, a project coordinator with Earth Science Data Systems at NASA, first learned cross stitch in middle school where she had to pick rotating electives and cross stitch/embroidery was one of the options.  “When I look up to the stars and think about how incredibly, incomprehensibly big it is out there in the universe, I’m reminded that the universe isn’t ‘out there’ at all. We’re in it,” she said. Her latest piece focused on Webb’s image release of the Carina Nebula. The image showcased the telescope’s ability to peer through cosmic dust, shedding new light on how stars form.

Ocean Color Imagery: Exploring the North Caspian Sea

Danielle Currie of Satellite Stitches created a piece inspired by the Caspian Sea, taken by NASA’s ocean color satellites. Credit: Danielle Currie/Satellite Stitches

Danielle Currie is an environmental professional who resides in New Brunswick, Canada. She began embroidering at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic as a hobby to take her mind off the stress of the unknown. Danielle’s piece is titled “46.69, 50.43,” named after the coordinates of the area of the northern Caspian Sea captured by LandSat8 in 2019.

An image of the Caspian Sea captured by Landsat 8 in 2019. Credit: NASA

Two Hubble Images of the Pillars of Creation, 1995 and 2015

Melissa Cole of Star Stuff Stitching created an embroidery piece based on the Hubble image Pillars of Creation released in 1995. Credit: Melissa Cole, Star Stuff Stitching

Melissa Cole is an award-winning fiber artist from Philadelphia, PA, USA, inspired by the beauty and vastness of the universe. They began creating their own cross stitch patterns at 14, while living with their grandparents in rural Michigan, using colored pencils and graph paper.  The Pillars of Creation (Eagle Nebula, M16), released by the Hubble Telescope in 1995 when Melissa was just 11 years old, captured the imagination of a young person in a rural, religious setting, with limited access to science education.

Lauren Wright Vartanian of the shop Neurons and Nebulas created this piece inspired by the Hubble Space Telescope’s 2015 25th anniversary re-capture of the Pillars of Creation. Credit:  Lauren Wright Vartanian, Neurons and Nebulas

Lauren Wright Vartanian of Guelph, Ontario Canada considers herself a huge space nerd. She’s a multidisciplinary artist who took up hand sewing after the birth of her daughter. She’s currently working on the illustrations for a science themed alphabet book, made entirely out of textile art. It is being published by Firefly Books and comes out in the fall of 2024. Lauren said she was enamored by the original Pillars image released by Hubble in 1995. When Hubble released a higher resolution capture in 2015, she fell in love even further! This is her tribute to those well-known images.

James Webb Telescope Captures Pillars of Creation

Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art, created a rectangular version of Webb’s Pillars of Creation. Credit:  Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art

Darci Lenker of Norman, Oklahoma started embroidery in college more than 20 years ago, but mainly only used it as an embellishment for her other fiber works. In 2015, she started a daily embroidery project where she planned to do one one-inch circle of embroidery every day for a year.  She did a collection of miniature thread painted galaxies and nebulas for Science Museum Oklahoma in 2019. Lenker said she had previously embroidered the Hubble Telescope’s image of Pillars of Creation and was excited to see the new Webb Telescope image of the same thing. Lenker could not wait to stitch the same piece with bolder, more vivid colors.

Milky Way

Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art was inspired by NASA’s imaging of the Milky Way Galaxy. Credit: Darci Lenker

In this piece, Lenker became inspired by the Milky Way Galaxy, which is organized into spiral arms of giant stars that illuminate interstellar gas and dust. The Sun is in a finger called the Orion Spur.

The Cosmic Microwave Background

This image shows an embroidery design based on the cosmic microwave background, created by Jessica Campbell, who runs Astrostitches. Inside a tan wooden frame, a colorful oval is stitched onto a black background in shades of blue, green, yellow, and a little bit of red. Credit: Jessica Campbell/ Astrostitches

Jessica Campbell obtained her PhD in astrophysics from the University of Toronto studying interstellar dust and magnetic fields in the Milky Way Galaxy. Jessica promptly taught herself how to cross-stitch in March 2020 and has since enjoyed turning astronomical observations into realistic cross-stitches. Her piece was inspired by the cosmic microwave background, which displays the oldest light in the universe.

The full-sky image of the temperature fluctuations (shown as color differences) in the cosmic microwave background, made from nine years of WMAP observations. These are the seeds of galaxies, from a time when the universe was under 400,000 years old. Credit: NASA/WMAP Science Team

GISSTEMP: NASA’s Yearly Temperature Release

Katy Mersmann, a NASA social media specialist, created this embroidered piece based on NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies (GISS) global annual temperature record. Earth’s average surface temperature in 2020 tied with 2016 as the warmest year on record. Credit: Katy Mersmann, NASA

Katy Mersmann is a social media specialist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. She started embroidering when she was in graduate school. Many of her pieces are inspired by her work as a communicator. With climate data in particular, she was inspired by the researchers who are doing the work to understand how the planet is changing. The GISTEMP piece above is based on a data visualization of 2020 global temperature anomalies, still currently tied for the warmest year on record.

In addition to embroidery, NASA continues to inspire art in all forms. Check out other creative takes with Landsat Crafts and the James Webb Space telescope public art gallery.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #creativity #fiber art #embroidery #art #art challenge #needlework #crafts #handmade #textile art #cross stitch #stitching #inspiration #inspo #Earth #Earth science #Hubble #James Webb Space Telescope #climate change #water #nebula #stars

[k-atsukibakugou]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

18+ MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DNI

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #「mercury writes」 #「kat <3」

[khaire-traveler]

🌊 Subtle Aphrodite Worship 🦪

Make your body wash/shampoo/conditioner rose scented

Have a rose or sweet scented candle that you light (doesn't have to be on an altar)

Create a skin/body care routine

Have perfume/cologne that you dedicate to her

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Carry a pocket charm that reminds you of her (dove works well in a Christian household and is a sacred animal of hers)

Keep a small picture of her in your wallet

Have a dove or swan stuffed animal

Have imagery of beaches, seafoam, seashells (especially clams), wings, hearts, swans, pearls, or doves around

Wear a locket with a picture of someone you love or of her

Give compliments to strangers

Drink water regularly and dedicate a glass of it to her

Collect seashells (if possible)

Collect things you simply find pretty

Plan your outfits/wear clothes that make you feel good

Keep a journal of poetry dedicated to Aphrodite and love-related topics; can also be a general positivity journal or diary (maybe a diary in a way of writing letters to her but saying a code name instead of "Aphrodite")

Keep heart-shaped imagery around

Embrace yourself; give yourself love

Forgive yourself of past mistakes

Give yourself compliments; start small if needed; I recommend doing this in a mirror

Pin up pictures of loved ones on a mirror or wall

If possible, burn some incense in honor of her; strawberry always has a great smell to it

Watch a love-focused movie (romantic or platonic)

Listen to or read stories about acts of kindness and love

Paint your nails or wear make-up (if you enjoy those things and are able to)

Listen to music that makes you feel good; dance to it like nobody's watching!

Have a party where you and your friends create drawings, items, or crafts that you can decorate your rooms with c:

Start a flower garden, especially with roses; tend to a plant

Practice compassion, especially towards yourself

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of ocean waves or singing birds

Listen to/sing love songs!

Spend time with loved ones

Have a friend's night; go out on the town together, watch movies, go camping, etc.

Spend time with your pets

Take a shower/bath, especially with rose petals and candles (SAFELY!!!!)

Visit a nearby ocean or body of water; stand in the water (if safe) and ground yourself there

Write about your crushes

Make a list of qualities you'd like in a partner; make a list of qualities you don't want (like green flags and flags)

Take a walk alongside a beach/body of water

Take care of your personal hygiene

-

I may add more to this later, but here is my list of subtle ways to worship Aphrodite so far! Worship can absolutely be discreet, and if it needs to be for safety or the like, know that the gods will almost certainly understand. Take care, y'all! 🩷

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#aphrodite deity #aphrodite worship #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #deity worship #pagan tips

[valkyrietookmoved]

Me sprinting back home to try compare sajou no roukaku to classic japanese poetry:

#utter rambling #this is a joke... #but considering that this collection is a classic I wonder if it who wrote the song used it as inspiration #or if part of its influence lasted long enough to sneak into the song even if subjectively #since so many of these poems use samd as themes and imagery #sorry I cannot make valkyrie leave my brain for a second #also the overall ambience if the poems and the song are sort of similar? #it's a sad song. ans I'm pretty sure it was made with how the fall of valkyrie was inevitable in the end #wuth or without eichi's intervention because of Nazuna's voice change and Shu's inability to let it go and work with his lower range #valkyrie brainrot tag #might as well start tagging this madness...

[peachesofteal]

soap x cypher masterlist Soap/female reader You missed a check in / 18+ / Your Sergeant commits a war crime for you, hurt/comfort

"It's alright, Cy. It's jus' me. Ghost is standin' watch at the door."

He smoothes the bar of soap over your shoulder, easy and slow, telegraphing his movements the same way he'd try to calm a spooked horse, pressing into their flank with gentle, reassuring pressure. I'm here, his fingers tell you. I'm right here.

"What do ye mean, they missed a check in?"

Laswell, to her credit, is very calm. Always collected in the face of danger, turmoil, and she gestures to the screen, where a blueprint has been replaced with a map.

"They were due in at this checkpoint at 1300."

"Any contact?" Price tilts his head, studying the satellite imagery.

"No. The security detail's gps is showing stationary, but the other vehicle has started to move off course, north." Johnny feels sick. The other vehicle, the one Laswell is talking about, is the one you are in. The one carrying the two analysts and some cut rate american sergeant.

His chair clatters to the floor with bang, fists clenched so tight they shake.

"We'll get 'er, Johnny." Ghost promises, and Price nods, waving them out the door.

"Let's load up."

"I- I don't want to." He doesn't need a clarifying question to understand what you're talking about. He understands you. That's all he'll ever need.

"You dinnae have to. Keep 'em closed for me then, aye? I'll take care of everything." You're still wearing your pants, and your boots, even though the shower is washing water down your body, soaking them until they stick to your skin.

You whine. There are no words spoken, but you fingers twist in the pockets, the belt loops, and he knows.

"Alright, alright. Let's get these off then. I'm going to undo your button and zipper." He murmurs softly, stripping them down your ankles, goosebumps sprouting from your skin as the water splashes against you, raining down onto his hair. His clothes are soaked, stuck to his skin like tar, each flick of his wrist or pull of his arm heavier than usual. He kneels, one knee between your feet, and begins unlacing your boots. "Gonna take yer boots off, now. Then we'll get ye out of everything." You nod. "We'll get ye washed up in no time, get ye into some comfy clothes." He glances upwards, ensuring you heard him, and then taps your calf one by one, urging you to lift a foot at a time as you hold onto his shoulder for support. "There ye go, good girl." He praises once you're nude, rising back to his full height, bar of soap still in hand.

"Johnny." Your press into him, face in his neck, fisting the front of his jacket, trying to burrow yourself beneath his skin. It’s all wrong, how you drift so aimlessly into the ether of somewhere else, lost in the present, in the incendiary magma of a memory he wishes didn’t exist.

"Shhh, wee sweet. I've got ye. I'm here."

"Ye get yer filthy fuckin' hands off her RIGHT NOW." Johnny screams, gives the command at the top of his lungs, Kyle shooting him a nervous look over his scope.

"There's no need to get upset-"

"Shut up." Ghost grunts. "Let the analyst go, an' maybe we'll keep you alive as a prisoner." The woman shakes her head, and then shoves you forward, closer, but no father away from the barrel of her gun that rests right at your temple.

"She's my only leverage now." The body of your co-worker is crumpled on the concrete, blood spilled around him like a halo. Johnny's vision dims red.

"Ye dinnae ken who ye've got in your hands." He warns, a click echoing across the room.

Someone is trying to argue with Simon, just outside the door. Johnny can hear it, the frustrated tenor of someone who's about to make a terrible mistake, the irritated grumble that gets silenced immediately by Lt's bark, more than enough persuasion for them to move on to the next floor's showers.

"Cy?" He murmurs, but you don't respond, face still tucked in his clavicle. You've stayed there, curled up against him, letting him clean you, dirt and blood all washing down the drain as you kept your eyes closed and he re-inspected you for wounds. "I'm goin' take ye back to my room." He holds your upper arms, moving you in step with him, directing you out of the shower and onto the mat, where he reaches for the first of many towels, ghosting the texture across your shoulder, then your cheek, before using it as intended, wrapping it around your body and reaching for the next. It's all he can do now; take care of you, get you clean, get you comfortable, hold you while you sleep and stare at the ceiling, recounting every second of today, fixating on the pieces that could have gone wrong, that could have ended your life and lost you to him, forever.

"Cold." Your whisper redirects his attention. Reminds him of his focus.

"I know, is a wee bit, isnae it?" He brought a sweatshirt, one of his, and once he's got you mostly dry, he taps. "Arms up, wee sweet." When your head pokes through the hole, he smiles, even though your eyes are still closed. "There she is, mo ghraidh." Your pointer finger strokes over the middle of your forehead, circling as if you're outlining a target, and then traces up his neck, over his jaw and across his cheek, patting his lips. They curve beneath your touch, eager to do your bidding, pleased by your silent request. "Of course I'll give ye a kiss, Cy, give ye whatever ye want, always."

"Time's up. What's it gonna be?" Price demands, and the gun digs into the side of your head, forcing you downward at an odd angle, panic plainly displayed across your face.

"Johnny." Your voice sings like an off key chorus, an echo of voices too twisted, too shrill.

"It's alright Cy, nothin' is goin' happen to ye." The woman with the gun laughs. It's decadent, believable, like she truly thinks she's going to get away, or take you with her. "I'm goin' to kill ye." He promises. "Whether it's now, or later. It'l be me, wringing out yer last breath."

Her hand moves to your throat and squeezes.

It's enough. More than enough.

"Guess it'l be now, then." And with no announcement, no more second chances, no more second guessing- his finger pulls the trigger.

“You killed her.” Your whisper trembles in the dark. His muscle involuntarily tenses, and relaxes just as quickly, sinking into the mattress, pulling you tighter into his arms.

“An’ I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over to save ye.”

#soap x cypher #soap x reader #peaches writes

[simphornies]

Yeah im down on my knees for a part two of that teasing reader x vox, your writing gave me brainrot and its the only thing that's gonna be on my mind all night

A/N: Happy Valentine's lovely readers. Short because my brain was going insane with the imagery

Word Count: 1.3k (1,328) Content: suggestive content, eating out, mirror sex, implied creampie(s) idk I think that should be it

Tease [ Vox x Reader ] part 2 NSFW

MINORS DNI

Ever since pushing Vox to the edge with your teasing and earning a long night of fun with him. You two decided to become an official couple. Even as a couple, you found him constantly glitching whenever you messed with him. Everyday was no different besides the fact that at night, you two share the bed together. And depending on how much teasing you’ve done, you two could keep going all night.

Today was different. Vox had this urge to take you before the night came. You took quick notice of him not glitching as much at your attempts and instead tried to catch you in his arms. You decided to have a little fun with it this time.

Vox sat in his security room, paying close attention to how his new release is doing with revenue. You made your way down to him and cheerfully hugged him from behind. “Hey, Vox~” You purred.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to come in here.” He smiles, immediately trying to pull you onto his lap.

You dodged his hand and waved a finger in his face. “Ah ah. I want to play a game.” You smile at him mischievously, “I promise it’ll be worth your time!”

He leans back, pouting at your rejection of getting pulled on his lap. He crossed his arms, “And what is this game?” He asks.

“For the rest of the day, until night time, you aren’t allowed to touch me one bit.” You giggled at his appalled reaction, “But! I’m allowed to touch you. You just have to hold back no matter what.”

“That’s unfair!” He protested, “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you, babe? You’re irresistible!”

“It’ll be worth it, trust me~” You grin. “It starts now!” You exclaim before inching closer to him. His hands were kept at his side as you rubbed his chest with a seductive look in your eye. Your hands trail down further and further and just before you touch his erection, you pull away. “See you later, Vox~”

“Wh—Y/N! That was such a tease!” He yelled, getting a laugh in response from you.

The rest of the day was torture for him. You did things on purpose to rile him up. In one instance, you dropped the stack of notebooks you were holding and you bent down in front of him, giving him a peek of the underwear you were wearing from underneath your skirt. You pretended to stumble back and grinded on the tent in his pants before quickly collecting everything you had dropped to file them away.

His eye twitched, systems glitched and his breath was uneven. He wanted to touch you so bad and he felt unable to hold back. He watched as you worked, humming a song while you put away files. He sighs and distracts himself on his phone.

After a long day of working and bothering Vox, he was more than ready to hold you again. He was practically counting down the minutes until night time.

You opened the door to his office, on the phone with one of the Vees. His eyes darted to you, watching you intently. You were distracted and didn’t realize how intense his gaze was on you.

20 seconds until sundown.

Your pace was unbearably slow, taking your time almost. “Velvette, I told you I’m already doing the show tomorrow! Wh—Yes. I’m going for the next one too.” You explained, groaning at her persistence. She hung up and left you in the group call with Valentino. 

10 seconds until sundown.

You leaned up against the side of Vox’s table, facing away from desperately trying to get Valentino off the call now. “I’m not filming a porno, Val. No…You’re gonna have to ask Vox about that—Wh–NO. Valentino. Goodbye.”

5.

You groaned and hung up on him. You gathered yourself and turned to look at Vox. “Hey Voxy~”

4.

Your initial smile turned into a confusion as soon as you saw a countdown on the side of his screen.

3.

“Vox, what’s that?” You bent down and leaned towards him, squinting at it.

2.

His hands remained on the chair and he was quiet as ever. You tapped his screen lightly.

1.

His hands flew up and grabbed you. Picking you up and putting you on his couch. His door locked at his command. He didn’t hesitate to touch every part of your body.

“V-Vox!” You breathed out, his wandering hands touching you everywhere but where you wanted him to. You squirmed, almost trying to get away from him to catch your breath.

He let out a low growl, pinning you in place. “I’ve been waiting all day, baby.” His hands wandered to the inside of your thighs but didn’t go any further up. He glanced at you with pleading eyes, almost begging for consent.

The sight of a strong overlord like him begging made you giggle, “Go ahead, Vox. You did the game.” You winked at him, “Go all out.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He practically ripped your underwear off as he stuck his tongue inside of you making you throw your head back. He didn’t slow down when you grabbed the edges of his screen while you rode his tongue. He pulled away as soon as he felt your walls tighten around him.

He stripped himself quickly, practically ripping his pants off. He flipped you on your stomach, lining himself up at your entrance. He slipped inside of you with one swift movement, your arousal making it a smooth entrance. Your breath hitched when you felt him fill you up. You didn’t hesitate to move your hips to get him going, desperate for more. His hands dug into your hips, his claws poking your skin. He fucked you into the couch with hunger, not giving you a moment to breathe. You were such a moaning mess under him you hoped his office was soundproof. Your nails dug into the fabric of his couch. You felt a knot getting tighter and tighter inside of you. “Vox-” You gasped out.

His hand grabbed your face, making you look into the mirror on the wall he had parallel to the couch. “I want to watch your pretty face when you cum on me.” He grinned with pride. His lust filled eyes pushed you to the edge, the growl in his voice ultimately snapped that knot you’ve been feeling. Your body convulsed in pleasure. You felt yourself melt into his hold, unable to keep yourself up.

He turned your head so you could face him, “You’re going to have to hold up all night, baby.” You smiled and looked back at him with a challenging look, “Get your fill in, Vox.”

Your words unlocked a stronger sense of pride within him, you felt him twitch inside of you. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The night was long and he definitely got his fill. You lost count of how many times you came on him but Vox counted and recorded each one. All you remember is his face as soon as he finally reached his limit, almost short-circuiting inside of you. He fell on the little space you had next to you. Before you and him could pass out to sleep, he had pulled you on his chest placing his coat over you two. You fell asleep to the feeling of him playing with your hair, too tired to say anything.

.

Vox woke up from a call and he answered it without looking.

“Vox. I’m glad you found your true fucking love but can you take your shit somewhere soundproof next time?” Velvette screamed into the phone before hanging up.

He looked down at your sleeping body, nestled up on his chest and the memories of last night hit him like a truck.

His phone rang again, this time Valentino called. “Will you both please consider that porno?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vees #vox x reader smut

[sirfrogsworth]

When I got to this photo in Katrina's collection of vintage family imagery, I was pretty stumped as to how to approach it.

There is a major problem when you zoom in to 100%.

The paper it was developed on has little micro bumps. When it was scanned, the light from the scanner caused a highlight on one side of the bump and a shadow on the other. This causes a pattern which is nearly impossible to eliminate using traditional techniques.

The easiest way to fix this is actually quite clever. You scan it once, then turn it upside down and scan it again. The second pass reverses the side the highlight and shadow appear on, so you can combine the images in Photoshop and blend them together, essentially canceling out the bumps. It's weirdly analogous to noise canceling headphones.

But I don't have access to the physical copy of this image.

So... now what?

Enter Fast Fourier Transform or FFT.

This is a filter that uses extra fancy math to recognize patterns in the image and eliminate them. There is a pretty good filter for Photoshop, but it does not work easily with newer Macs with Apple Silicon. I really did not want to figure that out, and I also was too tired to go downstairs to my PC. However, I learned that a Photoshop competitor, Affinity Photo, has this filter built in. So, I downloaded a trial copy and started the process of trying to figure out how to fix this image.

It was amazingly simple. It brings up these star patterns and you just paint black circles over every one but the center. It literally felt like magic. (Full screen with sound recommended)

So once I did this process I ended up with this...

The paper still had a rough texture but it was much easier to work with using traditional techniques. I started with a black and white conversion and meticulously went through the photo zapping scratches and flaws and balancing tones and sharpening facial features. All of my photo restoration tricks were needed.

I eventually landed here...

I then thought maybe I should match the sepia tone of the original print, so I got to here...

I think the black and white looks nicer in this instance, but I always like having options and this is the most faithful representation of how the photo originally looked.

But there is something else I have been playing around with lately. Photoshop has these experimental neural filters that use cloud processing to do various tricky enhancements. Most of them are in beta and they can be very quirky. But they have a colorizer that tries to detect people and things and adds color to them. Not every black and white photo is a good candidate. I have found these professional portrait photos work decently, but the filter is very hit-and-miss. And there are tools within the filter to help you make a miss more of a hit, but often I have to accept the photo isn't going to work.

But I decided to give it a shot with this one and surprisingly, the colorizer got me most of the way there.

I can work with that.

The one thing it does well is skin. Manually painting color onto skin is tricky and requires more skill and knowledge of traditional painting techniques than I have. But if a filter can do that part for me, I can do the rest.

So after my touchups, I got the image to here.

All I have left to do is my standard color enhancements to make them a little less ghostly and a little more human.

And I present to you where I started and the finished product. I encourage you to flip back and forth.

I'm not sure how, but I was able to go from an image I thought was impossible to edit to a beautiful colorized memory for my best friend's mom. I cannot wait to show her.

#long post #photography #photo restoration

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not sure if you've answered something like this before, but how do I write "prettier" sentences? I know one thing that will help would be expanding my vocabulary, but a thesaurus only seems to get me so far. I feel like when I write, especially when I'm describing things, my sentences are so basic. Idk if this makes sense, if it doesn't I can try and find examples from other writers to help describe what I'm talking about!

How to Write "Prettier" Sentences

Pretty prose is something many writers aspire to, however, it's not as easy to achieve as looking up words in a thesaurus. It's something you have to train yourself to do through both learning and practice.

Learn By Reading/Listening

First and foremost, making sure you're reading/listening to a variety of books and stories is essential if you want to learn how to craft prettier prose. Reading and listening to stories helps train your brain to: recognize the cadence of pretty prose, understand the structuring of pretty prose, understand how to craft meaningful imagery, and fills your head with vocabulary.

Expanding Your Vocabulary

Vocabulary is also an important component of crafting pretty prose. Following web sites, pages, and apps that have a "word of the day" (like the Merriam-Webster website) is a great way to learn new words. You can also purchase a word-of-the-day desk calendar for 2024. Some writers like to flip open the thesaurus every day on a random page and read a few random words. You can also read creative articles in newspapers, magazines, websites, etc. to learn new words. You can also look up the specific vocabulary for something you're describing, like if you're describing a house, you can look up the architectural style and general architectural terms to learn how to describe specific things like the style of home, the trim, the windows, etc. Finally, in addition to the thesaurus as a source of new words, you can add other word references to your collection, such as The Describer's Dictionary, the Random House Word Menu, The Writer's Lexicon, etc.

Learning Poetic Cadence and Imagery

Listening to music/reading song lyrics, and reading/listening to poetry are great ways to teach your brain how to craft descriptive imagery. Poetry has to say a lot with few words, so it helps you understand the power of using just the right words in just the right way.

Effective Description is Important

Effective description is of course another piece of the puzzle. Not all writing is description, but a lot of pretty prose is descriptive. So, when you're describing things in your story, make sure to consider the senses--what can be seen, heard, tasted, smelled, felt/touched? You don't want to incorporate all of that into the description of one thing, obviously, but if your character is walking into a forest, considering all of those things can help you come up with a vivid, beautiful description. Sometimes, looking for photos or videos of the thing you want to describe can be helpful, too.

Practice Makes Perfect

And last but not least: practice. Once you've started to train your brain using the methods above, when you go through a draft to revise it and come to a sentence that needs sprucing up, try out different things that you've learned. Don't go overboard with the thesaurus, but perhaps your sentence describes twinkling stars... is there another word you could use instead of twinkling that's more surprising and vivid? The thesaurus suggests: glimmering, shimmering, sparkling, blinking... cross-checking each of these in the dictionary shows they're all appropriate choices for describing the twinkle of a star. You can also read the sentence out loud to listen to the cadence... are there longer or shorter (yet appropriate) words you can use instead to make the sentence more lyrical? Improving your sentences in editing helps you learn to craft pretty sentences as you're writing them the first time.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[lunnybunny12]

Husk X Daughter reader

Requests open

I've always been a gambling man

Masterlist

Husk was your dad when you two were still alive. He was at his bar in the Hazbin Hotel, when you suddenly fell from Heaven down, through the roof of the hotel right into the bar

You died

Pretty simple right?

You died in a pretty normal way. No drink or drugs or pills just slipped away in your sleep.

At first, you felt weightless. like a balloon in the wind. Going up and up with no thoughts, just floating. The higher you went, the brighter it got. Brighter and brighter. It was all blurry.

You were so close. You felt warmth. You felt joy.

But then it stopped.

everything stopped when you felt something cold and heavy snap around your neck.

-----------------------------------

"OK, everyone. gather around were going to do another session" Charlie sang earning a groan from most of her guests.

It was an average day. Well ... as average as a hotel in hell could be. The Sky was red, the bar was full and Nifty was killing bugs.

"Seriously? What now?" Angel asked

"Yeah, do you need me to bring you some roaches to use as an example of what happens when they don't play nicely?" Nifty maniacally giggled with her knife.

"I appreciate the offer, Nifty, but maybe another time. No, today we will be doing 2 truths and a liiiiieeeee !!!! " Charlie cheered.

Another collective groan echoed through the lounge.

"Wiiiiithhhhhh alchoholllll !!!"

-------------------------------------------------------------

One by one everyone had their turn. some were relatively harmless and others not so much.

"And Alastor, It's your turn" Charlie smiled nervously

Across the room, a grumpy old cad was grumbled under his breath.

"As if you'll get that bastard to play this fucking game"

"Now now Husker don't be so quick to judge. that's what got YOU into trouble in the first place." Alastor chimed and walked to sit with the others in the lounge.

Husk growled.

"Now, let's see" Alastor grinned. " 1) I like dogs. 2) Jambalaya is my favourite food. 3) We will be expecting a new member of staff very soon."

Vaggie glared at the man " What?"

" A NEW PERSON!" Charlie beamed. "When are they gonna get here?"

Suddenly a loud crash was heard from the upper floors and came through the ceiling. Dust and rubble went flying everywhere leaving a thick cloud of muck in the air.

It smelled like fire and burning flesh. It made everyone caugh.

A claw crawled out of the mess. Large black eyes were darting around in panic. The creature stumbled to the bar, a mist of dust following close behind them.

"Ey! What the hell! My bar! Get away you fucker!"

"I just fell through your roof and you're giving me shit?" You hissed, trying to shake off as much dust as possible.

You erupted into a fit of coughs and wiped your eyes.

"Where the fuck am I?" you blinked. Your vision was hazy until a tall, red figure walked to meet you.

" Ah hello there my dear. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. My name is Alastor, and you are?" He asked extending his hand for you to shake.

"I'm (Y/N)?" you answered, looking around.

It was a bit of a dump. But you did just fall through the ceiling. A lot of circus imagery covered the walls and everything was dripping stem to stern in red and gold.

The more you looked around the clearer it got you began to see other faces. One was a young lady. Long blond hair and a huge amazed and excited grin on her face. she was practically jumping for joy.

Another was a shorter lady. She wasn't as excited to see you. More like suspicious.

And then there was... A cat? A very horrified-looking cat... and a spider-person? A snake?

You started to panic. "W-What the fuck is this place? Why are some of you guys animals?"

"Speak for yourself there toots. You look like poos in boots" The spider laughed.

You looked at yourself and almost screamed. You were covered head to toe in ash grey fur, with black paw-like hands and claws for fingers. A long tail wrapped around your leg making you jump almost 3 feet in the air.

Tears were welling up in your black eyes and your heart was going a million miles an hour.

"Ok, understandably you're a little freaked out. Come with me. Im Charlie by the way." She smiled, taking your hand and leading you to a chair.

The second you were sat down Husk practically flew over the bar and dragged Alastor into the hall.

"What. The. Fuck. Is SHE doing here?!"

"The Hotel needed a Receptionist. She has plenty of experience and-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Husk seethed.

"Did you do this to her? Did YOU kill her?"

"Husker I can do a lot of things but killing the living, I can not. You know exactly why she is here."

Alastor walked over to the door and looked at you with an evil grin.

"I can't say I see much of a resemblance Husker. Must take after her mother."

#hazbin hotel x reader #husk x reader #husk hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #helluva boss

[ghoularaki]

Hello! Can I ask for yandere scenario with Mikey in which he and the darling made a childhood promise that they would get together/get married if neither of them end up finding a partner till they reached a certain age? To poor darling unfortunately never really had any luck with boys for some "unexplained" reasons and well the time is finally up and it came time for Mikey to collect his prize.

teddy bear

tw yandere mikey, bonten arc, noncon, mikey typical violence, possessiveness, forced marriage, marriage imagery/kink, dollification, hint of strength kink, unprotected sex, kidnapping

requests are CLOSED

It all started in elementary. An innocent era where time wasn’t much of a concept you could wrap your little brain around. Anticipating the relief of summer, not knowing how much you would regret wishing the months away. 

On a sweet spring day is when you met Mikey. A period before he went by said name, before gangs and despair. It was just you and him under the flourish trees, colors swirling in the world. 

“Manjiro,” he introduced with an outstretched hand and a tooth filled grin. 

You responded with your name with a shy demeanor, not used to such brightness. Clasping his hand to yours—so chubby and small—time before his hand could engulf yours. 

You two were instantly attached to the hip. If you were present, so was Mikey. Adults tried their best to separate you two in fear of stunted social growth, but anytime someone would detach your hands, tears spilled from Mikey’s eyes. You never saw a boy cry so much.

Though one day he stopped crying, stopped smiling so fully. It was that day, flowers waft in the air, he made such a silly promise. The exact age is fuzzy when he asked the damning question, but the words stay imprinted in your mind. “Hey y/n-chan, if we aren’t married by the age of 27, let's just marry each other.” The words were saccharine.

You had giggled at the question. At the time, neither of you understood the weight of marriage. And so, of course you agreed. 

“Pinky promise?” He raised his hand, pinky extended.

“Pinky promise.” You twirled your finger with his. Bound together. 

It all started in middle school. No blaring red signs wacked you in the face as you were always on the more reserved side. Boys never really did approach you especially when Mikey gained a name for himself. Though this never did bother you, at first. You were content with following him around like a lost puppy. This is when you met his less than savory friends. They weren’t mean, but you never really cared for swollen fists and bloody smiles. 

You knew it was best to avoid gang business for your sake and Mikey’s. He despised when you got involved. If anything you learned the hard way. It was when Takemichi (or Takemitchy as Mikey not so cleverly named him) arrived. He always loved to give those he adored nicknames, you were not an exception. His doll, he called you. The name made you huff, you were anything but. 

“That’s why you’re my doll. I don’t mind if you are roughed up, I will always fix you back up again.”

The words made your face so hot you could cook on it. 

He wasn’t wrong though. One too many incidents was the reason, you were forbidden to join any Toman meetings anymore. 

Calling upon his loyal followers, he stood above everyone else as he usually did. You sat at the top stair of the shrine, Draken standing right next to you. It was when Valhalla had not wavered and fallen. Kisaki was still at large.

It wasn’t much, but you so happened to get in the crossfire of Baji betraying Toman. An elbow to the face was all it took for Mikey to see red. He was silent. A deadly silence likened to a still sea right before whirling, twisting waves. 

He could have killed the man if it wasn’t for your laugh. Fuck, did it hurt and sometimes you could feel the phantom pain, but god was it fun. The adrenaline was addicting. You simply shot the blood from your nostrils and smiled crimson. Mikey was reminded of the time you ate cherries together, the red meat stuck between your teeth. You never looked so beautiful.

Since then, Mikey never let you go to another meeting. Instead he and Draken would walk you home before treading back. You kicked up a fuss at first, but with a glare from Mikey quickly shut you up. 

What Mikey wants, Mikey gets.

It truly started in high school. The death of Kisaki never sat right with Mikey. It haunted him. He wasn’t the same man he was from before. He was more subdued, angrier. Though you clenched your teeth in what could be mistaken for a smile.

You two started to drift. Mikey was falling and trying as you may to catch him, he twisted his body out of your arms. 

The skin that attached you two to the hip had rotted and collapsed. You became quite lonely for a short period, but that was quickly fixed. Without the intimidating presence of a whole gang backing you up, you were a whole lot easier to talk to. For once, a boy showed interest in you. Genuine, true romantic interest. Not the brotherly love Toman offered. 

In the down time before class started, you had been staring out the window watching the leaves decay into bright oranges and yellows. A knock on your desk startled you out from your daydreaming. Stood before you was a boy, a grade above you, the same grade as Mikey. He was tall with inky black hair and a puppy-like charm to him. He honestly reminded you of a German Shepherd. A blush adorned his cheeks as he asked you for your email. 

Just as shy, you offered your phone to him. Charms clicked together as you had plenty hanging off the flip phone, mainly of Kuromi and MyMelody. With a promise to shoot you a message, he sauntered back to class, obviously giddy. You felt the same. “OMG was the Y/n-chan asked out?” A classmate asked.

She was right across from you, watching the whole thing. You two weren’t particularly close, but you enjoyed her company.

You hid your face in your hands at the banter. She started to poke your arm as she giggled and you kicked your feet in excitement. 

Turning to her, you also giggled, “damn right I did.”

Others in the classroom observed the display you two created, also surprised at the boldness of their upperclassman. 

Though word spread fast. In the end, you received no reply. You tried not to be disappointed, but it was the first time a boy showed interest in you and he didn’t even have the decency to message you back. 

About a week later you saw him roaming the halls. He strangely seemed more subdued, no longer so puppyish. When he locked eyes with you, the boy scurried away. You were stunned, perplexed. 

All you could do was stand there, the gaggle of students brushed up against your still body. Leaning against a window of a classroom a few feet away, Mikey watched with blank eyes. Shivering at the innate reaction of being stared at, you caught Mikey’s gaze but he offers no acknowledgement of your locked eyes. He simply slunk back into the classroom.

Never in your life have you felt fear for Mikey. Sure, cautious as sometimes it felt like he was one inconvenience away from breaking something, but never fear. A girl at your age was scared of a cracked phone screen, asshole boys, missing an assignment, what to do with your life after high school, not your life. Mikey would never hurt you, right? As the days dwindled, you were less secure in the possibility he would prove you right. 

Taking a hint was never your forte. Forgoing whatever the blonde tried to communicate to you with silence, you chased after your upperclassman. The final bell had rung and you were quick to stuff your books in your bag as quickly as possible. You didn’t know much about him besides his name was Yokio and he was in the same class as Mikey. Racing to the upper level, you just hoped Mikey or Draken or really anyone from Toman wasn’t there as well. 

Luck had been on your side. In the classroom alone was Yokio, gathering his own supplies slowly. He looked up at the sound of rapid footsteps. His puppy dog eyes wide in what could have been terror. Snapping back to his bag, he fastened his pace.

“Yokio, why didn’t you message me back?” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you wanted answers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taken?” Was what he snapped back.

You scoffed out a laugh, “Taken? Who told you that bullshit?”

When he looked back at you, there was ire in his eyes and now you gawked closer there was a cut on his lip and he favored his left leg. Coming for answers, only left you with more questions. 

“Don’t act stupid, L/n, we both know you aren’t.” 

Your face twitched, perplexed. He slung his bag over his back and limped past you, subtly pushing you out of the way. 

“Go ask your fucking gangster boyfriend,” he seethed in your ear. 

You glanced up at him to which he ignored and made his way down the hall. Watching his form shrink, your knuckles almost bursted through your skin with how hard you were clenching your fist. It didn’t take a lot to piece together what was happening. How stupid were you for it to take this long to click. 

Stomping down the same path Yokio went down, you now had a different target. And you were pissed. 

It wasn’t a shock to see Mikey still on school grounds in the same lot that he met Takemichi surrounded by other Toman members. Today it was him, Draken, Mitsuya and Takemichi. Not caring about the audience you stomped right up to Mikey and pushed him so hard, he stumbled. 

“What the fuck!” You screeched.

All the boys’ eyes widen, never once have you lost your cool. Not like this. And more surprisingly, you were able to make the Invincible Mikey topple over. There is something to be said about a scorned woman. 

It had been ages since you talked to your old friends and you had thought you left off on good terms. Apparently not if Mikey is spreading a rumor you two were dating. 

You shoved again—this time Mikey didn’t move an inch, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

He was quick to grab your wrists, swallowing your delicate bones. You tried your best to squirm away but it was futile. 

“How about let’s talk about this civilly,” Draken butted in. For a violent man, he sure did hate inner conflict. 

“Yeah let’s talk civilly about the fact he’s spreading rumors that me and him are dating,” you seethed towards Draken but kept your sharpened gaze on Mikey. 

“You guys aren’t?” Takemichi squawked. Mitsuya elbowed him, muttering that he wasn’t helping. 

Mikey kept your gaze and said plainly, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

You scoffed, attitude dripped from your posture. He still had his hands on you and you finally ripped yourself from him. Biting your inner cheek, the taste of blood grounded you. You weren’t being crazy about this and you weren’t going to let Mikey dismantle you like this. 

“Then why did Yokio said to me, verbatim, ‘go ask your fucking gangster boyfriend?”

“Oh you’re on a first name basis now?” He was avoiding the question. 

Mikey slipped his hands in the pockets of his baggy pants. His posture screamed aloof. Though the way his jaw ticked showed he was growing irritated. Whatever friendship that was left was burnt out like a used match, never to relight. 

And you told him just that. 

The air shifted to something colder, sinister. He straightened his back to stand taller. For his short stature he made you feel puny. 

“Care to repeat that.” He was about to march to you, but Draken gripped his upper arm. The taller man shook his head to his leader, his bestest friend. 

“Alright let’s just leave this for today. We can talk about this more when we all cooled off, got it?” Ever the middle man Draken was, but you didn’t care.

“Sure,” you said and turned around. They all watched you walk away. Mikey knew he fucked up but at this point he didn’t care. You didn’t mean what you said, you were just angry.

You didn’t show up to school that day or the next or the day after that. You had transferred to a school in Osaka. 

The world had not been kind to Mikey. Maybe it was an act of karma or maybe he was simply cursed. The day you left was the final fracture in his glass heart. It all fell down after that. He pushed away his friends, lied through his teeth that he needed space. From his hands he built an empire of the most feared gang in all of Japan. Toman was nothing more than a childish dream.

The world was at his disposal and he thirsted for power. Yet, at the top, it was lonely. Some days he missed you, his friends and other days he resented both. How dare you leave him. He spent years trying to find you, but disappeared into thin air. You didn’t even have any social media from what he could find. It left him bitter but a smirk still crept up. Smart girl. 

Mikey was sure whatever luck he had, had run out years ago until Sanzu barged into his office. He nearly shot him for coming in so unmannerly, but kept the gun down.

“I found her!” His voice was boisterous, elated.

Sanzu honestly couldn’t give two shits about you, but whatever made Mikey happy he felt tenfold. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s back in Tokyo apparently to visit a dead relative,” Sanzu responded.

He waltzed further into his office and leaned up against the desk. Spying down at Mikey from underneath his nose, he watched the boss stare off with no indicator what he was thinking. Honestly, it was always hard to figure out what Mikey contemplated. Whatever you thought he was going to do, he did the opposite. 

“Prepare the room.”

Sanzu grinned so hard that his scars creaked. It was about to get fun around here again. 

Coming back to Tokyo was one of the dumbest ideas you have ever had and you were aware of that. You were precautious. Every step to instill your safety, you implemented it. You never used social media, you limited your internet access, kept inside, made sure not to stick to a schedule and stay the fuck out of Tokyo. Despite this, life happens. 

You knew your grandmother was growing old and it came to no surprise she passed away. If it was anyone else you would have lied to your family that you were too busy to come back home, but the thought of your grandmother’s grave barren left you weak enough to buy a bus ticket. 

It was true you were so busy you couldn’t even attend the actual funeral, only able to visit where she was put to rest a day later. You were sure your uncle would still be there as he was her caretaker. The thought of being exposed, out in the open with another person gave you comfort. Though very little as your uncle didn’t even own a knife. If someone came you were both screwed. 

You tried your best to toss the idea away. It had been years since you seen him and you were sure he had long since forgotten you by now. But, that small part of your brain itched and dug in that he doesn’t simply forget his possessions. 

No matter what, this was going to be an in and out operation. You will leave some of her favorite snacks, wish her goodbye and take the next train far, far from here. Maybe you could convince the rest of your family still in Tokyo to come to the countryside with you. The air was always better in Murakami. 

A polite voice on the intercom told you that your stop was coming up. The bus came to a slow stop as it sank to let the people on and off. Lifting yourself off from the uncomfortable seat, you picked up your small bag. Thanking the bus driver, you jumped off to be greeted to the cool, night air. You made your way to the graveyard, it was about a 10 minute walk from the bus stop. If you calculated it right, you had less than 20 minutes to visit her and catch the next bus. You honestly wished it was a shorter time period as being outside for that long of a period left you anxious. 

Clutching your bag, you walked briskly to the site. Maybe you could find a populated shop to reside in until the bus came. The more people, the better. The streets were sparse but enough that made you feel at least some at ease. Keeping your hood up and head down, you had headphones but nothing was playing. Again, you were doing everything to ensure nothing bad will happen. 

In no time, you were at the gravesite. There was no one here. A chill rushed down your back. Fuck taking your time, at this point you will overhand throw the snacks at her grave and high tail out of there. Seething, you abandoned the idea, knowing she would have beat you to kingdom come in the afterlife for doing that. 

“In and out, in and out,” you mumbled to yourself as you nimbly strutted. 

Pulling out packaged strawberry mochi and taiyaki from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you were careful to place it down near the other snacks surrounding her grave. At least she wasn’t hungry. Slapping your hands together, you whispered, “I’m sorry this will be the last time you will see me. Maybe in a next life we will see each other again.” 

“Awww, how sentimental, Y/n-chan,” a sickly sweet voice chewed out. 

Snapping your head up, you see the second to last person you wanted to see. There in an obnoxious pinstriped suit and hair the same color of your grandmother’s gifted mochi was Sanzu, in all his unsettling glory. 

In your paranoia, you had kept tabs of Toman that then turned into Bonten. Even going as far to sneak onto less than savory websites to keep tabs on the gangsters. There wasn’t much, but you knew enough to fear the man before you. Back in the day, Sanzu was a fly on the wall, he was kind of just… there. 

But here, he was a neon sign of danger. You were in Tokyo for less than two hours and he was able to pinpoint your exact location. Curling your lip up, how naive you were to think what was in the past stayed there. 

Sticking your hands back in your pockets, you thumbed the knife stashed away. Your form pivoted towards Sanzu, staring him dead on. You weren’t going to be intimidated by this pastel troll. 

Eyeing the gun he grasped in his hand, Sanzu was flippant with how he scratched his head with it. 

“You don’t know how happy I am for your stupidity,” he mocked you.

You swiftly ignored the taunt and glanced at somewhere to run. There was a path a little further away that would lead you away from the bus stop but would bring you back to population, hopefully. Just as you were about to jump over the graves, Sanzu shot the ground where you would have landed. A scream bellowed.

You flicked your bouncing eyes to him. He must have been fucking insane to shoot out in the open like that. Sure the gravesite was empty but there were people nearby. Clinging onto the hope someone heard and would be nosey, you shook as Sanzu’s expression dropped. 

“I know I just called you stupid, but let’s not be hasty,” he raised his gun to you, “come with me with no complaints or I will bury a bullet in your fucking thigh. You’re lucky Boss wants you alive.” 

“Eat shit!” you frothed and made a run for it.

Having the advantage of his lanky form, Sanzu was quick to grab your hair before you could even move an inch. Hissing, you grappled onto his hand only for him to shove you away. You collapsed on the ground and grabbed the knife from your pocket. Flicking it open you were about to dig the blade into his calf when he pistol whipped you so hard your head bounced off the concrete. Blood poured from your head down into your bleary eyes, darkness crept in. 

“He never said, you can’t be hurt though. Dumb bitch.”

Whimpering, you winced at the light that pours and invades your eyelids. Flinching from the sudden light, you squinted as you looked at the window disturbing your sleep. It ebbed in slowly before it came rushing in. Everything fucking hurt, especially your head. You attempted to bring a hand up to touch the offending part only to be met with resistance. No, not resistance, you couldn’t move at all. 

Panic started to set in as you attempted to swivel your head to see where you were. The only thing you could move were your eyes and the slightest twitch of your fingers. Tears bubbled out as you sobbed in complete and utter terror.

A pathetic “help” lept from your throat but you might as well whispered it. Looking around with minimal movement you had, you saw you were in a pristine white, canopy bed. It was similar to the one you had in your childhood, the same one you shared with your favorite doll. The canopy was lacey along with the rest of the bedding, at least it was soft from what you could tell. 

Whoever tucked you in, had to courtesy to leave you in somewhat warm clothes. Glancing down at your body, you were clad in the same material as the bed. It was a sweet ivory, similar to a very short wedding dress. It looked and felt expensive. 

Just as you caught your bearings, the door was swung open. Whatever calmness you attempted to instill ranaway as the last person you wanted to stood in the door. With all your might, you willed your legs to work. All you could do was wiggle your toes. If Sanzu sent a shiver down your spine, you might as well abandon your whole nervous system as Mikey only stared at you. 

Your chest hitched, terrified of what was going to become of you. The man said nothing as he slunk further into the room. He looked completely different from the last time you saw him. His skin lost whatever tanned hue he had in his youth, his hair just as pale. His eyes were darker somehow and bags heavy underneath them. He also looked skinnier but you didn’t let that fool you. Even if he was skin and bone, Mikey could take out a hundred men. 

He planted himself next to you. Sitting on the edge, he leaned over to stroke your frozen cheek. His palm quickly became wet. 

“Oh my dear,” his voice was sweet, but his grip turned hard, “how stupid do you think I am?”

Your lips puckered out as he didn’t stop squeezing you until your jaw creaked. “Stop,” you breathed out. 

If Mikey wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have heard you. He leaned over you until you were nose to nose. “You think you are in the position to make commands?”

Locking eyes with you, he continued, “Do you know how long I have waited to see you again? You won’t run away again and I will make sure of it. I am bound to you and you to me. I mean we promised that didn’t we?”

Your brows furrowed before it hit you. That fucking childhood promise. He was still hung up on that?

“You… you’re insane,” you tried to put malice in your voice but it was so hard to move anything. 

“In sickness and in health,” he replied with no mirth. 

Pulling away, he climbed further onto the bed. Spreading your legs, he sat himself in between them. Truly panicking now, you tried to rip your ankles from his grasp but alas your muscles didn’t even twitch. 

“Please,” you begged, “don’t do this to us.”

Mikey laughed but it was hollow, “so there is an us now? I thought you were done with me since high school.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We can be friends again, just don’t do this!” Working the words around your mouth was difficult and the headache was getting worse. 

“I think we have passed the point of being friends. I have waited my whole life for this and I’m here to collect my prize.”

Your eyes widened at the realization of the date. It was April twenty-eighth, two weeks since Mikey’s twenty-seventh birthday. You were doomed. 

Mikey ignored your internal crisis. His deft hands trailed down the outline of your curves until he met the hem of your dress. Slowly he lifted up the little gown until it was under your breasts. All you could do was whimper as you watched him take and take. 

He curled down to place a kiss on your tummy that was a phantom sensation. “My pretty doll,” he whispered into your skin. 

Fingers crawled back down until they met your just as white panties. He propped himself back up and used both hands to delicately tear the fabric away. A stuttering breath echoed in the room as he stared at your exposed pussy.

“My pretty, pretty doll,” he repeated. 

Subtly you tested again how much you could move, as he took his time to undress you like a present, the more sensation you gained in your limbs. Not enough to run away, but enough to retaliate. Knowing it was futile, you refused to give in so easily. 

Just as he was about to lean back down to plant feathery kisses on your pussy, you reared back your leg and kicked him in the face with all your might. 

It wasn’t enough to break his nose, but enough for blood to pool from it. Mikey lifted himself back up and locked eyes with you. As the blood dripped down to his lips, he licked it away and quirked an eyebrow up at you. An ‘what was that supposed to do?’ was written all over his face without even anything being said.

“You never knew when to give up, did you?”

With that, he pulled your hips up further onto his lap and bent your legs to your chest. Whatever gentleness he had was gone. His fingers ran up and down your exposed slit. You squirmed but he clenched down on your thighs until your circulation was cut off. Seeing you were done moving, he used one hand to hold you down and the other to pull down his pants and underwear. 

It was hard to see his cock from this angle and you were honestly scared to see what was about to force its way into you. Mikey crowded you so all you could see and smell was him. 

“I was going to work you through this but you just had to be a brat. It's okay, we have all our lives for me to show how much I love you.”

He tapped his cockhead against your hole, a silent warning. Fuck it stung as he bullied his way into your cunny. Tears bubbled up again as he carved his way inside you. For such a short man, his cock was long and thick. 

It could have been hours or minutes until his hips met yours. You never felt so full in your life. Clawing at the sheets, you felt yourself start to relax. Mikey seeing you were finally calm enough, he gave little thrusts. You moaned at the feeling. 

Taking the hint, he started to cant his hips. He slowly pulled himself out until it was just his tip and then slamming back in. A scream was punched out of you. Mikey laughed at the chain reaction. Putting more of his weight on you, his hand left one of your thighs to cradle your neck. It wasn’t enough to cut off your breathing but enough to keep you still. 

Mikey kept this rhythm of fucking into you like you were nothing more than cocksleeve. Keeping you close he rambled, “my doll, my possession, my thing, mine.” He seethed out the last word. 

The constant budging against your womb wiped your mind blank. At this point you just wanted to cum even if it was at the hands of him. Sensing you were both close, Mikey let go of your thigh to rub your clit. You moaned out at finally being stimulated. 

Mikey groaned out as you clenched down on him. “Fuck,” he moaned as he was coming up there with you.

After a few more pumps, he came right into you. Being filled with his cum spiraled your own release, shaking and whimpering. A few more spurts came out as you clenched down one last time. Mikey collapsed right on you, not removing himself from you. 

“You’re finally mine,” he breathed out relieved. Still coming down from the high, you spat, “I will never be yours.” 

Mikey slithered his hand across the mattress to come caress your right hand to his. Metal clinked against metal. Turning your head, you saw a ring on both your hands.

“My stupid doll, my naive wife.” 

#yandere mikey #yandere mikey x reader #yandere manjiro sano #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev #yandere manjiro x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #tokyo revengers smut #viruses #dark.web

[vampirekilmerfic]

The Sin Eater || Chapter 01

The Sin Eater || Chapter 01, Gluttony

The Sin Eater Masterlist

Relationship: John Price / Reader Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Captain John Price is a loving husband, a dedicated soldier, and a good man. But, that’s not all he is. Underneath his controlled exterior lurks something dark, something hungry, and something wholly inhuman. You’re his only solace during his wrath, and only you can consume the sin from his shifts. He’s the love of your life, but at what cost?

Tags: Extremely Dubious Consent, Monster John Price (Call of Duty), Inspired by Jekyll and Hyde, Occult, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Author Is Not Religious, Author Has a Lot of Cultural Religious Baggage, Seven Deadly Sins, Cunnilingus, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, War, War Crimes, Child Death, Child Soldiers, Child Abuse, Terrorism, Eventual Happy Ending, Smoking, Drinking, Rough Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dark John Price (Call of Duty), Bukkake, Consensual Non-Consent, Somnophilia, Self-Mutilation, Anal Sex, Warnings: graphic violence, Wordcount: 3.4k

Authors Notes:

Welcome to Cali and Vamp's Monster Price fanfic! We've been workshopping some Dark!Price ideas back and forth, and we wanted to explore the concept of the Seven Deadly Sins. This was originally going to be the endcap for The Californicationist's 2023 Kinktober collection, but after Vamp started cooking, we decided to make it a fic on its own.

You should read the tags before you begin this story to make sure you are prepared for its contents. This material is not intended for readers below 18 years old.

This fic is not going to be for everyone, and that's okay. No hard feelings if you decide this isn't for you. But, that being said, I would deeply appreciate any comments, concrit, or support you can provide. Writing a dark fic is a lonely thing, and your input means a lot to me and to Vamp.

Thanks for checking it out, brave souls! --Californicationist

Read on AO3

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Disclaimer: ©️vampirekilmer.2024 ©️vampirekilmerfic.2024~ The intellectual property of vampirekilmer and vampirekilmerfic is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #captain john price #captain price #cod price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #cod price x reader #vampirekilmer writes #vampirekilmer #the-californicationist #californicationist #dead dove do not eat #dddne #fanfiction #thesineater

[mckirkevents]

Welcome to McKirk Week 2024!

Held from 20th – 26th May, McKirk Week is a creation event focused on the Kirk/McCoy pairing, across all universes. 

HOW IT WORKS: 

There are three prompt lists – Trek, Gen, and NSFW. Trek are prompts based on the Star Trek universe, Gen are general prompts and tropes, and NSFW are of course the NSFW prompts. You’re welcome to pick from any prompt list (or even combine a few), and you can fill as many or as few prompts as you fancy.

Your creations can be any form of media: art, fic, edits, videos, web weaves, memes, playlists, fic rec lists, cosplay… the list goes on! As long as you can make it McKirk, it counts.

And on that note: this is a McKirk event so McKirk should be the main pairing in your works. Background ships, side pairings, and poly ships are okay as long as Kirk and McCoy are the focus.

NSFW prompts, plaintext transcript, and rules below the cut:

PROMPT LISTS:

TREK PROMPTS

Day 1 (20th): First Contact Day 2 (21st): Shuttle Crash Day 3 (22nd): Clones / Doppelgangers Day 4 (23rd): Shore Leave Day 5 (24th): Old Married McKirk Day 6 (25th): Transporter Malfunction Day 7 (26th): Diplomatic Dinner

GEN PROMPTS

Day 1 (20th): Amnesia Day 2 (21st): Taken Captive / Abduction Day 3 (22nd): Huddling for Warmth Day 4 (23rd): AU Day 5 (24th): Drunken Confessions Day 6 (25th): Sickness / Injuries Day 7 (26th): Reunion

NSFW PROMPTS

Day 1 (20th): Lingerie Day 2 (21st): First Time / Virginity Day 3 (22nd): Sex Pollen Day 4 (23rd): Crying After/During Sex Day 5 (24th): Only One Bed Day 6 (25th): Semi Public Sex Day 7 (26th): Sex Toys

THE FINER DETAILS:

You’re welcome to start on your piece(s) whenever you’d like, but please refrain from posting them until the relevant day(s) where possible.

When posting your works to tumblr, please use the tag # mckirkweek2024 and/or tag us @mckirkevents so that we can find your posts to reblog.

There is an AO3 collection HERE that you’re welcome to add your McKirk Week 2024 works to.

There is no deadline to post your works (we get it, life gets in the way sometimes), and the AO3 collection will be open indefinitely. 

You’re welcome to create whatever you want, but please do tag/warn as appropriate for NSFW and other sensitive content.

For tumblr posts, please do add a mature label to explicit imagery, and/or crop and link externally to the full image, in order for us to be able to reblog.

And most importantly: have fun, be yourself, and keep it McKirk!

ANY QUESTIONS?

FAQ coming soon, but until then, send us an ASK!

#mckirkweek2024 #mckirk events #mckirk #star trek #star trek events #prompt list

[qvrcll]

Hii. I just saw your works and I really love the writing<3. Anyways i saw ur taking requests and i really have one in mind.

So like vendetta leon was some sort of a mission (like something similar to the movie) and he Heard the virus had broken out to the city and the only thing he can think is the reader (I'd really love for the reader (which is a retired agent, to be preggy😭). Then he like straightly went to their house (or apartment) and the zombies have already broken inside.

(no angst pls my heart is too poor to handle angst 😭)

cherry waves

summary: with your retirement from the source of his burden’s and the arrival of your pregnancy, leon almost swears that things will be alright. but worrying intel from hunnigan and the affliction of his worst fears make things worse. make things bloody and gashed with the ultimatum of death — and the one thing on his mind? you.

warning: written with vendetta ! leon in mind, violence, afab reader, use of gun, mention of vomit, intense imagery of death / zombie bites, mention of pregnancy, angst (but happy ending), implication of smut (nothing happens :P)

a/n: firstly, ty so much for ur interest for my works! it always makes me so happy ppl like what i write 🥹 secondly, WOW, i loved this plotline and couldn’t wait to get writing it! thank you so much for requesting this because i had a great time writing it (anything exploring leon’s worst fears is an immediate yes from me!) i hope i did your prompt justice and hope you enjoy :-)

It would start with a mission, something so insanely emblematic in its own course that it made Leon scoff sourly.

Of course they would do this — do this to him, to you, try to rope him back into a hell he had once wished to depart for entirely. You’d done it, excavating all wounds and ties to that little milky tinctured office corner and a chock-full of folders, of late night runs to diners and the semblance of sentience. Leon had admired you, held you in high regard and shunned any and all faces that had locked horns with your decision, dragging them through filth and dirt and nothing but the crud of his hate and the spew of his regrets.

And after you’d promised the two of you this peace, this little hole of your own created in the cataclysmic remnants of what once was, in a tiny apartment stocked away into the city curtained with the foolish promises of a forgotten past, Leon had sworn that it had worked. Had been cut from an entirely different cloth, and woven into something… away from this hell.

But it’s always something other than peace in the end.

And when he’s on his own, cornered against a wall with little to no care for anything lavish, just the bile wedged in his throat from the coalescing pools of worry in his stomach, he tries to think of you.

“Leon, your slippers…” you’d called out from the living room, in his memory, voice soaked with little to no empathy. He’d mumbled something incoherent back, something unintelligible, that had sufficed for a few minutes before you’d thrown a shirt over his head. An injunction, he was sure it was, to his constant habit of doing away with his clothes in the wrong places. Next thing he knows, he was being smothered by your weight as your voice rung clear, a ring of indolence grating your voice, “Leave your shirt on the floor and I swear to god, Leon S. Kennedy—“

“Okay, okay, I promise—“ he’d chuckled, collecting you and your squeals in his broad arms, entrapping you into the planate sheets of the bed he’d laid in since the morning began, “I’ll be mindful of where I keep my shirts. Kiss me?”

And your resistance, your throes of faux fury, the crooning semblance of your squeals and laughter had dissolved into a stimulant, a drug for him to swallow wearily whilst his back was met against some other unfamiliar surface.

He holds his breath. Strengthens his feet against the bounding hard-wood floors as an outburst of flitting groans, cold and doggone with the smell, a reminder of 1998, sound out from beyond the foyer of the abandoned building. And he’s accustomed to the feel of blood between his teeth — god, he’s done this in repeated intervals before, so why did it begin to feel too pervasive in this moment?

His heart clamours in his chest.

His skin bursts with a sheen of cold sweat.

His teeth clatter with a fear he’d known all too well, for a time too long.

So why?

So he rephrases, rewrites this fear in him into something of a catalyst — he thinks of you again.

He thinks of your smell and your smile, your tears and the strength you’d accumulated when you had grinned goodbye to this shit hole. He thinks of your nails digging lines of red against his back, the rows that escaped you when he’d had you pressed against the mattress. He thinks of the day you’d staggered up to him, eyes rimmed with a similar shade as the vermillion he’d worn to some masquerade themed drivel (in the name of work), calling for him like you’d been bitten by the dark, searched for his face in the light — “Leon… Leon, I think I’m pregnant,” and he’d kissed you raw, kissed you like he fought, kissed you through the burn and edge of his tears cracking into the press of your mouths as he had felt grounded for once in his pathetic, penurious life.

He uses that, the glint of that vision, that new beginning, the shade of hope that came as you, to shape an opening — he aims his revolver at a blindsided corpse. Fires a crisp blow at a groaning zombie. Kicks, buckles and flanks against two more and advances with the burn of your memory in his mind.

It’s nearly ten minutes since he’s been stationed into the rubble of the desiccated building and Leon’s throat itches with a certain worry.

How were you? Did you need anything whilst at home? Did you think of him? Did you crave something demonically new? Did your feet hurt, like it often did following your pregnancy? Did you rest enough? Were you up, staring at the crescents and spoons of white dotting the sky, like he was?

And Leon nearly trips, nearly kisses the ground from thinking of you — but he needs to. Needs to allow himself this grace to make sure he’d not shoot himself, surely. Needs the image of your face to bless every corner of his mind so he’d remember what it felt to love you thoroughly, fully, to the point of death and damnation. Needs to feel you, if even in his mind, if even for a second too faltering, if it meant he could mow down another zombie.

“Leon? Leon!”

He cringes, retreats to a gap in the wall as he presses his headset into his ear — Hunnigan.

“Hunnigan?” he whispers, throws his voice to a lower sonority than before, so that he can hear her better. So that the clatter, the dash of undead a few feet up ahead, cannot pick up on his bearings.

He hears a cut from the other end, before the agent’s familiar voice cracks through, “Leon, there’s been new intel.”

He frowns. This can’t be good, if she’s already using his first name instead of a roster of aliases. Still, he needed to figure it out. Keep a locale on his bearings.

“New intel? Go on…” he breathes softly. He picks up the press of footsteps up ahead and smothers further into the tight bite of the space, wincing when his muscles flout back at him with an ounce of pain.

“There’s been reports of a zombie intrusion in the city,” Hunnigan starts, and Leon stops, “and there have been increasing hoards against buildings and apartments.”

And he drops.

His feet move, on pure muscle. On pure fear. On the cut-throat and persistent emotion that is love, of you, of the memory of you, of the promise he’d made and of the shattering grip of his life, as he books it out of there. Hunnigan continues, gathers something about altitude and choppers. Of gunfire and backup. Of something more, but Leon can’t tell.

To Leon, his mouth is already bleeding and his body is already teeming with wounds, with the futility of scars and the loom of death, when he pictures those sick, dead bastards at your door.

Why did he accept this stupid job?

Why didn’t he follow in your footsteps?

Why didn’t he stay?

And as he beats the ground with louder noises, attracts a few undead with the heave of his groans as he breaks for home, for your apartment, he can lay a hand over his chest and feel his heart attempting to splinter into knots as he runs.

He thinks of you, again. He thinks of your smile and the smell of rot. He thinks of your smell and the curl of lips and the gash against your hip. He thinks of your odd habits, your huff, your laughter. He thinks of your body stapled to the floor, marked with messily biten flesh and an aspersion of blood on the counter. On the floor. On your face.

And you and you dead and you dying and you growling and you—

“Fuck!”

Leon chokes, his throat jammed with pathetic cries. His eyes glisten and shed, but he quickly finds himself recanted in front of that familiar apartment, front so idyllic, it was burnt straight from his memory. His skin melts with sweat, with pin pricks and with the threat of throwing up right there, but he soldiers through.

At first, it’s hard. It’s hard to breathe, hard to see past his tears. It’s hard to get a clear grip on his weapon and it’s hard to blur out the mess of their groans, their staggering enumeration. But he finds some messy middle ground, grounds his feet and staples his teeth and shoots against brassy flesh, against bone and blood, barely cares for the splatter of blood against his lip, his chin, his hair.

All he cares is for you to be standing there, as you as you could ever be. As safe, as teeming with hope and the glimmer of tomorrow as you ever were, welcoming him home.

But he’s half delirious, half fucked for thought, as he makes it up the staircase with difficulty. He wants to delude himself and wants to believe the lies he’s almost weaving in his head. But the truth is vibrant, unpleasant as the verdant decay of flesh that hordes your apartment floor.

And he nearly throws up.

Your door is open, three zombies freshly approaching the crack of it. Their heads jitter and steer in the limelight, and Leon nearly breaks, but holds the pieces of himself as he shoots through their corroding skulls.

He shouts your name first, then chokes with grief at the sight of blood — and the image of you dead and dying and —

And he’s trying, yes, he’s trying, as he stumbles through the threshold with his gun quivering in his hold. And yes he’s breathing, but only so little, as he eyes the count of flesh against the tile of your living room. And yes he’s standing, but nearly crumbles with the thought of a repeat. Of a sequence to his worst fears.

“Leon!”

The scream gushes from the bedroom and his heart teems with that familiar feeling, slow but sure, of hope. Of love. He silently cries as he makes a run for your shared bedroom — his calloused palm harshly swings apart the door and sees you cornered atop the bed, bashing the head of a zombie in. It’s managed to corner you far up the bed, but you’re sour with spit and curses as you try to throw it off — but the undead prove to be a challenge.

And yet, Leon is a worse piece of work.

With his shot gun aimed at its head, the zombie flattens to the floor with an animated thud.

And then there’s silence. There’s a heave from you, as you gather your surroundings and make use of something solid to determine Leon actually there — actually standing in the stretch of your bedroom as he looks back at you, face bristling with blood and carnage. With tears.

And with time, comes semblance.

You dart towards him, worry in your hands when you gather him in your palms like life itself — “Fuck—Fuck, I was so worried. Fuck, Leon, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, sweetheart, I’m okay—are you?” he inquires, rushes for thought as he presses a hand into your side, your face and your back. Tries and thrives with the effort of remembering your warmth through his fingers — collected here, in the bloody mess of your apartment.

And you’re breathing and you’re alive and you’re smiling and you’re holding love in your hands when you cry into his arms.

And as he holds you like there’s so much of losing you, crumbles to the floor in the vacancy of your arms, he catches sight of your already swelling belly beneath his nimble fingers as you sigh out a laugh. Beckon his hand atop your stomach closer, say something about ‘knowing how to work a gun, even after all the bullshit I’d left behind.’

And Leon sighs with the thought of tomorrow.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

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[khaire-traveler]

🌱 Subtle Persephone Worship 🍂

Take a walk/drive through an area with lots of falling leaves during the Fall

Step in dry leaves to hear that satisfying crunch

Start a garden; tend to plants within your space

Pick flowers (not from other people's gardens!!!)

Make flower crowns

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal pig, rooster/hen, snake, or dog

Have imagery of spring, flowers, fall, winter, or pomegranates around

Eat pomegranate seeds or drink pomegranate juice

Learn to let go of shitty people, if able; assert your personal boundaries

Take a hike/walk in nature; visit a nature preserve

Honor your ancestors; learn about your family history

Keep family heirlooms; hold onto to objects given to by loved ones who've passed on

Become comfortable with change; take new risks and go outside your comfort zone

Make a list of goals at the end of each month; these goals are for the month ahead

Find simple joys in your day to day; make a list of things that you enjoy

Spend time with pets and loved ones; show appreciation for them

Volunteer at animal or homeless shelters

Support children-focused or environmental preservation organizations

Show yourself the same love you give to others

Practice standing up for yourself

During the winter, make yourself cozy; drink something warm, watch a favorite movie, curl up in a fuzzy blanket, etc.

Do spring-cleaning; keep your space clean

Donate things like blankets and coats to homeless shelters at the start of winter or fall

Cook a warm meal for someone in need, especially when it's cold out

Collect animal bones (thank the animal's spirit; I think that's just respectful)

Remember to regularly go outside/get some fresh air; take frequent breaks from technology throughout the day

Wear flowery perfumes/colognes

Have flowery scents for body wash, shampoo, conditioner, etc.

Take a self-care bath/shower

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I might add more down the line! For the time being, this is my list of ways to discreetly worship Persephone. Take care, and I hope this helps! 💚

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

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