Part Three of the Catboy in the Village AU
Part One | Part Two
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Cellbit has been in and out of several prisons in his life. He's no stranger to captivity, he knows how it works. He knows how the system works, and he's not expecting the queen to be any better than any of his previous wardens.
...Still. It's kind of nice to be given a cell with an actual bed in it. With bedsheets- silk, probably, they're soft. And a rug on the marble floor to keep the chill away. And bookshelves. With books in them. Interesting-looking books, too: mysteries, judging by the titles, and ones he didn't have access to back home due to Gato Kingdom customs laws.
But, like. Fuck the queen. She kidnapped him and his husband, she's currently working on kidnapping their children, and she doesn't seem keen to give Cellbit and Roier any chance to escape.
The cell- a bedroom, Roier had called it, but, really, it's a cell- doesn't have any windows. The door is unlocked, but there are two guards outside who are apparently supposed to follow Cellbit and-slash-or Roier wherever they go.
There are clothes in the wardrobe that are clearly recycled from some other member of Gato royalty. They're all finer than anything Cellbit has ever known, and he thinks he'd rather die than wear them.
Roier, though? He's not happy about being kidnapped, and he's even less happy about not having anything to protect himself and Cellbit with, but he seems happy enough about the 'lost prince' treatment that Cellbit's getting.
"When we escape, we're bringing the clothes with us," Roier decides on night two of their forced stay in the castle.
They're in bed, Roier wrapped protectively around Cellbit's back and holding him so tightly that Cellbit's ribs hurt. It's close to midnight, but neither of them can sleep, because how can they sleep when their kids are an entire kingdom away?
Cellbit quietly laughs. "Yeah? How?"
"You'll carry them."
"Oh, will I?"
"Yes, obviously. I have to have my arms free for fighting."
Roier's breath ghosts over the back of Cellbit's neck. It's warm, and Roier is warm, and the blankets are warm, and it all feels so cozy and yet so wrong. The bed is too nice. The bed is too big. The room is too big. Roier's clothes are too soft. It's too quiet, where is all the noise?
The entire time that Cellbit has been in the castle, these past two days, he has seen a handful of people: a few guards, a total of two servants, and, of course, the queen. But she's been too busy trying to rebuild her kingdom to bother with the men she's had kidnapped, and Cellbit hasn't seen much of her outside of the meals he and Roier are dragged to twice a day.
The queen is... interesting. She's a total piece of shit and Cellbit kind of hates her more than he can describe, but she refuses to be addressed by any of the usual titles; she keeps correcting her knights when they call her anything but 'Bagi', and she looks two seconds away from murder every time Cellbit calls her 'your highness'. She seems to actually care about her kingdom, which is a marked difference from her parents, and she spends all day locked in her study in the tallest of the castle's towers working on... queen stuff. Whatever it is she does, Cellbit doesn't know. He isn't royalty, he's an alchemist. This is all foreign to him.
"Who says we need to fight?" Cellbit asks. "Maybe they'll just... let us go when they figure out they've got the wrong Cellbit."
"Mm, maybe. Or, hear me out, I knock out a guard, steal their sword, and then I carry you out of here. Easy."
Cellbit imagines it. He smiles as his imaginary Roier spontaneously becomes shirtless mid-escape.
He snuggles back into his real shirtless husband's chest with a happy little trill. His trill becomes a proper purr as one of Roier's hands trails up and into Cellbit's hair, landing at the base of his ears and scratching lightly. His eyes slip shut, and his back arches, and he loves his husband so much! He's so sweet even when he's the victim of a kidnapping, he's literally the perfect man.
"Aww, gatinho," Roier coos. "You are the prince... of my heart."
Gods, that's cheesy.
Cellbit loves him.
"That... doesn't even make... sense..." Cellbit murmurs, voice obscured by his purring.
Roier sighs dramatically: "Fine, you're the king of my heart. Better?"
"Mmmmmmmm."
Roier chuckles fondly. "Mhmm, I see, yes, yes."
Cellbit bats a hand in the vague direction of Roier's face. He doesn't make contact, but that's fine. He'd rather die than hurt Roier, even playfully.
A kiss plants itself between Cellbit's ears. He melts, all thoughts evaporating outside of warm and Roier. Warmoier...
(The room doesn't have a window, so neither of them see the faint green light surrounding the castle.)
He's jerked back into his body as the entire castle shakes and rattles to the point of books falling off of their shelves. He's nearly tossed out of bed, only staying in bed thanks to Roier.
Cellbit immediately tries sitting up, but Roier pulls him back down with a hissed, "Be careful!"
"We'll be safer on the floor," Cellbit huffs. "Come on."
He drags Roier off of the bed and, together, they huddle beneath it clinging to each other.
"This sucks," Roier complains. He grips Cellbit's arm tightly, definitely not worried about the literal earthquake they're stuck in the middle of. "We just got comfortable!"
"We can get comfortable again," Cellbit assures him.
He feels it before he hears it. His entire body recoils upon instinct, his ears pressing down against his head just as an otherworldly wail echoes up from somewhere and burrows into his very bones.
"Are you sure?" Roier asks, wide-eyed. "What the fuck? Is this place haunted?"
The wailing continues. Roier has to let go of Cellbit so he can clap his hands over his ears. Cellbit covers his own ears, but it doesn't stop the chill in his bones, and it doesn't make the sick feeling growing in his stomach go away.
"I hope it is!" Cellbit replies, his voice near a shout from how loud the wailing is. "At least it would be interesting!"
Roier rolls his eyes. "Oh, at least!"
And then, just like that, the shaking stops. The wail cuts itself off with a sob, and then it's gone.
Cellbit looks at Roier. Roier looks at Cellbit.
Slowly, Cellbit lowers his hands from his ears, though his ears don't perk back up.
"You know," he says, "I don't think the queen told us everything when she kidnapped us."
"No shit," Roier grumbles. He moves his hands from his ears to Cellbit's hands, linking their fingers together; their hands are shaking from the adrenaline, but they seem to stabilize as soon as they're holding each other.
"I bet she doesn't even think I'm the prince," Cellbit continues. He looks down at his and Roier's joined hands. "I bet we're some kind of sacrifice to whatever spirit is haunting this castle."
"That's ridiculous," Roier scoffs. "I wouldn't be a sacrifice. You, yes, but me?"
He laughs as Cellbit untangles his fingers from Roier's and crawls out from under the bed. As he does so, Roier calls out to him and grabs his ankle and tries pulling him back under. Cellbit kicks at him, and Roier bites Cellbit's ankle, and Cellbit uses his leg to pull Roier out from under the bed, and they end up pressed against each other on the rug surrounded by fallen books laughing.
Roier, on top for the moment, leans down to kiss Cellbit.
That, of course, is when their cell's door slams open and the guards stationed outside come running in with alarmed expressions on their faces.
Cellbit groans and shoots the guards a dirty look.
"Do you mind?" he snaps.
At least the guards have the decency to look ashamed as they take in Cellbit and Roier's... position.
Roier huffs out a sigh and collapses onto Cellbit's chest, laying his head on its side on Cellbit's chest so he can glare at the guards properly.
"Can we help you?" Roier asks.
"Um," says one guard, clearly blushing and absolutely mortified. "Sorry. The prince has been requested in the queen's study. Uh. Sorry. We'll just..."
She and her fellow guard awkwardly bow, and then they start slowly backing out of the cell.
They aren't alarmed by the scattered books, Cellbit notices. No mention of the earthquake or the wailing, either. This is normal, then.
Hm.
Cellbit feigns a yawn. "Well, tell her majesty that both me and my husband would like to sleep after whatever the hell that was that woke us up. Whatever it is, it can wait until the morning."
The guards freeze. They go pale, look at each other, look back to Cellbit.
Roier lifts a hand and waves it dismissively towards them. "You heard the prince, go away."
Cellbit waits until the guards are gone before pushing Roier off of him and shooting him a halfhearted glare.
"'You heard the prince'?" he asks. "Really?"
Roier shrugs innocently. "It got them to leave. Now, get back here."
He growls playfully before pouncing back onto Cellbit. He frames Cellbit's face with his hands, and then he kisses him roughly. And then he kisses him softer after Cellbit mumbles something against his lips about being tired and wanting to get back into bed.
"You're so weak," Roier teases, lips moving against Cellbit's as he speaks.
"I'm weak... for you."
Cellbit laughs as Roier groans and tears himself away to go mope his way back into the bed. He's soon to follow, and he's immediately snatched back into Roier's arms and held captive once again.
This castle may be a very nice prison, but there's no better one than Roier's arms. It is simply the best, and Cellbit should know; it's the only prison he's never tried to escape from.
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To be continued...
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The Night They Slept Together
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Summary: Tav pines, and their relationship with Astarion shifts ever so slightly. (They literally do just sleep)
Tags: 2nd person POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Pining, light hurt and angst, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, coping with feelings, act 2, pre-confession
A/N: some light angst as Tav comes to term with their feelings but we already know where they end up, so it's okay, right? :D
Word count: ~2.1k
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Your tryst with Astarion should be over by now.
It was supposed to be a one off moment of passion, a way to destress after all of the danger you’d thrown yourselves into. He’d asked so easily, you’d agreed just as readily– a quick celebratory moment after defeating that goblin camp, when your spirits and libido were running high.
The second time? Well, that was easy to write off as well. You’d just fought off an entire creche, moving through it like a pair of practiced assassins, a synchrony you haven’t felt since– well, you’re not certainly you’ve ever felt so in sync with someone. Either way, it was another easy nod to his sly, questioning look.
You’d had similar excuses for your first night in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, for the handful of midday, afternoon, midnight romps since.
It’s just a way for us to cope with the situation at hand, nothing more, nothing less, you’d told yourself.
That is, until you’d realized that it wasn’t just that. Not to you.
Oh gods, I love this insane vampire.
The night you’d realized that everything had changed.
What had begun as a distraction for you both, had turned into a poison– one slowly working its way through your system, incapacitating you piece by piece at the thought of another night falling into his arms, sinking deeper into the throes of an impossible love.
After all, what is this other than convenient? And if you continued to be a mere convenience to him, well, you doubt that this would end well for you. It’s high time that you cut off the source of this poison before it festers too far. Before it grips your vulnerable, aching heart.
That’s what you’d told yourself, but you’re finding it so much harder to cut off the source when he’s standing right in front of you, waiting for you with a smirk toying along the edge of his mouth, an eyebrow raising suggestively as his voice lowers to a sultry invitation.
You’d come by his tent to say goodnight. Maybe, ‘Good job today.’ Any excuse to see him really, but now you’re met with a challenge.
Astarion’s words don’t make it much easier either.
“Oh my dear, you look positively wound-up after today’s bouts. Care for a little… unwinding?”
His voice drips with promise, with want, with a feeling that echoes through your own traitorous core. But, like a sweet that’s overstayed its welcome, it seems too tacky, hardening into something utterly indigestible.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask, eying him carefully, fighting down your own building desires.
“Why shouldn’t it be?” he asks, a raised brow lowering in uncertainty.
You hesitate, unsure how much truth you’re willing to part with. Certainly not, ‘Because I may have accidentally fallen in love with you.’ And you don’t want to shove him out of your life unceremoniously either. Just… to slow down, allow your heart time to adjust– to get over him, if need be.
After a pause that goes on for a second too long, you finally settle on, “It just seems as if we’ve already had plenty of ‘fun’, don’t you think?”
Astarion’s small smirk drops, a dark look entering his eyes as he registers your words, how they directly counter his own from your first night together. How they fall between you with the full weight of rejection. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown shy now, darling?” he says, voice a bit sharper than what you’re used to.
You’d known that trying to slow down wouldn’t be easy, but his downturned lips make you want to take back your words, dive back into the intoxicating miasma of his cold embrace. But you also know that if you don’t stand your ground now, you’re liable to fall too far too fast.
“Not shy per say,” you respond, measuring your words carefully. “Merely wondering if that’s what you want.”
Astarion seems no more placated by these words than your earlier ones. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t want this?”
Fear born of your heart, insecurity born of your nerves, damned logic born of your head– there are really so many reasons he wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want you. But you don’t want to be too transparent, not when this adventure could all be over very soon. You say as much.
“Well, our days could be numbered.” Then your lips continue. “Perhaps there is someone else you would rather be unwinding?” The question slips out of you, an unbidden, unwelcome concern courtesy of the fear building in your chest.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, response quick, tone biting. His lips are pressed in a tight line, the muscles in his neck tense as he clenches his jaw.
Gods, you’d known your heart would lead you astray. Here you are, facing an Astarion unlike any that had made a home in your bedroll. An Astarion made of sharp edges and cutting words. Expression closed, mouth a tight line, you find his change in demeanor aggravating. You bristle at his accusation. “No, Astarion. I don’t want that. If I did, I wouldn’t be here, speaking with you. Though you’re making me regret doing that much now.”
He tilts back at your words, leaning back on the heels of his feet as if thrown off balance. “Then why did you even come over? To reject me then to–to taunt me?”
You had meant to do none of that. Really, you’d only come over out of habit, to see him, to… spend time with him. But it’s hard to say so without being entirely too forthcoming with your feelings. You wish that you could put your feelings into words, however it’s your burden to bear, not his. He has more than enough on his plate between the Absolute and Raphael’s deal.
So you shake your head at him. “I didn’t mean to reject you, Astarion. I hadn’t come here for sex at all.”
Once more, he asks the question you do not want to answer. “Then why did you even come over?”
You could lie. It’s as easy as breathing for you– it’s how you and Astarion had grown so close so quickly. You should lie, you tell yourself. But one look into his crimson, pleading eyes and the lie dies on your lips.
He looks hurt. So genuinely confused at your presence in front of him, deeply convinced that you could only be here for one thing and one thing only. And you know then that you can’t lie.
“I wanted to see you,” you say, the honest words tightening your throat on their way out, You haven’t told him how you feel, but you may as well have, with the way the words sound utterly, sinfully soft, a secret lost on the cold wind of the Shadow-Cursed night.
“You… wanted to see me?” he repeats, tone losing all of its edge, losing any of its structure at all.
You nod silently, uncertain if more words would help or hurt the situation.
To that, Astarion only blinks. His mouth opens, head tilting in that cautiously inquisitorial way, as he asks, “And then what?”
There was no ‘and then’ in your mind. Merely the need to see him, spend time with him, even after spending an entire dark, dreary day with him. But you suppose he wouldn’t understand that if you said it. So you need to come up with something concrete, a reason to be here beyond words…
“I was wondering if you wanted to share a bedroll tonight. To sleep,” you say, infusing enough confidence in your words that you can hardly note the nerves. You expect Astarion wouldn’t notice them at all.
His defenses noticeably drop, his shoulders sagging in relief, and a sigh escapes him as he shakes his head at you wryly. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, darling? I understand that not everyone has my stamina, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
You want to roll your eyes, defend your honor as it hangs on by a thread, but you’ve narrowly avoided disaster and you’re not proud enough to ruin that. Instead you play into the role, ignoring the dull twinge that twists through your heart. “I wasn’t sure you would be so magnanimous,” you say, giving him the slightest bow of your head. “I should have known.”
“That you should have,” he says with a breathy laugh and he sounds almost… relieved?
More than anything, you want to ask him, why? Are you relieved that my feelings have stayed silent? That this thing between us remains uncomplicated? That you don’t have to find yourself a new distraction?
But your questions stay just as buried as your feelings do.
Your damnable feelings, which seem to threaten to burst out each time his eyes linger too long, with every touch you weren’t expecting. It must be a talent, holding them in as you do now.
They stay hidden as he extends a hand to you, inviting you into his tent with a warm smile and a, “Shall we?”
You keep them dormant as you follow, tucking your head into the now-familiar red structure, narrowly avoiding the mess he’s left inside.
They almost slip to the surface as he pulls you down onto his lap, and a heat rises between you as natural as steam from a hot spring.
It’s an invitation, of course. One last effort from Astarion for something more tonight, for you to be won over by his beauty and charm. But there’s nothing to be won over because you are already his.
You wish he could tell, from your drunken declarations, from the way you’ve made a second home in his arms. Maybe he can tell, but refuses to acknowledge it– you could hardly blame him if that were to be the case. But you also can’t blame yourself for barely holding back.
Even now, seated in his lap, staring into his mesmerizing red eyes, you’re not certain you could trust a single word that comes out of your lips. So you throw every word you’ve ever known, could ever know, to the wayside. And simply kiss him.
You press your lips to his slowly, contact feather-light as you balance on his thighs. Bracing yourself with a hand on his chest, you lean in, locking your lips together fully.
They move together easily, dance partners on a familiar dance floor, to a practiced tune, but when you think of all of the things you wish you could say, an urgency rises in you– a deep-seated need to tell him how you feel, even if only through this.
So you kiss him harder, your hands holding him all the tighter. You kiss him with every word unspoken, every intangible feeling rising in your chest, every single ounce of you that he’s already won, if only he were willing to claim it.
Astarion moves to deepen the kiss, placing a hand on the back of your head, the other on the small of your back, not understanding where your desperation comes from. Misunderstanding your intent altogether.
Of course, what was I thinking? you wonder to yourself as you pull away, panting lightly. That some magical kiss could make this man realize my feelings, could make him love me back?
But you’re not in some copper novel. This man harbors no hidden feelings for you. Only a deep need to lose himself, and you happen to be the person he’s chosen to do that with.
So, despite the confusion in his face, you crawl off of his lap. Despite the way his hand trails along your side as you lay down, you don’t get back up. You merely say, “It’s getting late, we should get some rest.”
Astarion murmurs his agreement, but you can hear the reluctance in his tone, see the bewildered expression on his face as he lies down, all of his clothing still covering his body.
You could laugh at the absurdity of it all, how unnerved he is, how deeply your chest aches– gods, this didn’t go well at all. But you don’t laugh. Only a sigh escapes you as you wrap your arms around him, as you press your body to his with all of the affection you cannot contain.
His arms stumble, they falter, but they find their way around you as well. An awkward embrace from a man who has no clue how he’s arrived at this point.
It’s difficult at a moment like this to remember that you shouldn’t love this man. That there are a dozen reasons to tamp down your feelings, a dozen more to run away. This was never supposed to be more than a single night of fun.
But, face tucked into the crook of his neck, hands clutching his loose shirt, nose filled with his carefully curated scent– you can almost pretend that this is real.
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Literally me trying to figure out when exactly Lawlight started sleeping with each other 😭 I'm 100% sure that by the time the Yotsuba Arc "Don't be so shy, Light-kun" panel shows up, they already were, (I'm a queer man who's had his fair share of situationships so source: trust me bro) - so possibly they started hooking up sometime after Light's amnesia? There are certaintly some points that make it sound semi plausible, a) being that L might have less trouble being intimate with who he assumes Kira to have been at some point becaus he is now innocent and doesn't remember killing. (He couldn't confirm Light to be Kira, so technically he's not quite sleeping with a mass murderer. Even though he knows, deep down, that this is bullshit, desire makes us pliable and behave illogically. And isn't this the actual base concept of Lawlight; the development of desire building on top of lacking logic and the very first time both L and Light experience the feeling of their power slipping out their palms multiple times throughout their friendship? So it doesn't seem too unreasonable to me.) and b) being that desire transcends even through Amnesia, and this might sound like just a silly dreamy thought but it's quite literally confirmed by Misa still having feelings for Light after she forgot about him being Kira. Which means, just because Light forgot playing Cat and Mouse with L, doesn't mean his body also forgot. Aside from the fact that he has a whole new bond to explore with L which means being able to get to know him all over again while being forced to spend every waking second chained up with him, if you feel some type of desire for someone I don't think Amnesia can get this out of your system. So, this is how I'm assuming it went; Option #1: Light is aware he wants L, but is confused about the source of his want. Being the mastermind he is, he figures it out pretty quickly though (we see him thinking of how he would act and do things if he was Kira/how he did things while he was Kira during Yotsuba arc pretty often) and while not having the memories of experiencing it, his body guides him to the conclusion, and sooner or later to L as well simply because of the mere concept of having played Cat and Mouse with L paired with their current dynamic and everything Light learned about L after his amnesia. He's such a hothead, unlike L im assuming he doesn't need to convince himself much. Option #2: Light is not aware he wants L (or perhaps just in denial about it) and for this one there would be a lot less thinking. Since here, it's mainly his body reacting to L's preserence, Light could easily play it off with mundane things/reasons for it, and rather spontaneously end up in an intimate situation with L (mouth faster than brain type) and then possibly figure out his source of attraction and that it must have developed during his time as Kira IF he was Kira at some point. Another thing is, it would have been way easier for Light to sleep with L /after/ losing his memory because he wouldn't be so tense around him anymore. Obviously, being a suspect would make anyone nervous, but surely it's no match to how it was before. Yotsuba Arc Light was drastically more relaxed around L, that's a fact to me, just think back of the time Light told Misa how hard it is for him to act casual and non suspicious in front of L before he lost his memories. Of course it's still possible they started hooking up before Light's amnesia, but that would take an insane amount of control in order to not let anything suspicious slip out during intimacy, and I doubt Light would take that risk. After all, resorting to an intimate situation in the first place would prove the lack of control, with both men being each other's nemesis.
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My mother cheating on my father with a guy 30 years younger than her and when we tell her it's disgusting and unacceptable she tries to justify herself like "Oh, this is so Christian moral and catechism puritanism from you" and "This is the patriarchy that's talking".
.... Are... Are you trying to justify your CHEATING on your husband since 1990 on feminism and freedom? ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT, YOU WILL. She thinks she's not in the wrong because, what, fuck her Christian education and she's a woman, she can do anything she wants ? Is she FUCKING KIDDING ME???
YOU CHEATED, YOU ARE CHEATING, YOU'VE BEEN CHEATING FOR MONTHS, YOU FUCKING JERK.
You hurt your husband, you threw him out of the house, you hurt your children, you think you can come back to my father's village? Your youngest daughter is TWELVE, and you're hurting her so much she's bottling everything in so well she could win an Oscar already, AND YOU THINK EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND YOU HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING WRONG OR MORALLY REPREHENSIBLE ?
What sort of fucked up imaginary world are you living in that cheating is acceptable. For heaven's sake. She had the galls to tell me "adultery is banal, it's ordinary, everybody is doing it, it's not serious; don't be so dramatic". *screams* Hi, hey, if everybody is jumping off the bridge, are you going to jump too? Have you not PAID ATTENTION? Wars, murders, catastrophes have been done because of CHEATING, it is not a MODEL, it's a warning!!! Wtf, wtf, WTF.
I'm tired, I'm so tired. I have a thesis to write and I can't bring myself to work because my mother is throwing away all her life, acting in a shameful and unacceptable way, and disrespecting her family. My grandfather and my uncle and aunts aren't aware yet, but when they learn, oh boy, they might jump in a plane for Morocco to go yell at her.
Anyway. I'm having a real bad time these days and my only solace, my only salvation, are my sisters and my brother.
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𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩
—in which toji is constantly fucking women and disturbing your peace. your complaints lead to you becoming one of them.
pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! college reader
cw: smut, breeding, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, toji being a cocky prick, unsafe sex, ass slapping, mentions of cervix touching
Ever since you heard about your next door neighbor Mr. Fushiguro going through a divorce, things have been hell. For you.
From the day he first moved into the apartment, constantly arguing on the phone with his ex wife about whose turn it was to watch his son, Megumi.
When Megumi is over, everything’s quiet, and you finally get a chance to rest your head and relax in peace. Doing some studying and cleaning in the quiet atmosphere.
You wished the black haired boy would stay for just a day longer, because Toji is back to his usual self hours later. Bringing in young college girls one after the other. Fucking them hard against his headboard as they let out loud cries of daddy. It was annoying. You could even stay inside anymore to get work done.
At every hour of the day he seemed to be active, fucking through all sorts of women, the shaking of your thin bedroom wall never coming to an end as high pitched moans echoed through.
It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it. You were so fed up. Didn’t he ever get tired? Tired of promising these young desperate girls to call them back only to throw away their numbers and fuck their friends the next day.
Weeks go by and nothing changes, Megumi coming over for a silent three days then leaving again. Giving his father enough time to fuck any feelings for his ex wife out of his system.
You swore you couldn’t take it, you had barely been able to study, occasionally spending an hour or two in a nearby café between classes. When you noticed your grades slipping, your eyes having prominent bags at the lack of sleep, you groan loudly in frustration. Finding your legs moving before you could even process it.
Your fist raising to knock on the man’s door once, then twice, with no answer. You huffed, going in to knock a third time before the door swung open. A tall, muscular man towering over you with a scowl. “What?”
Your eyes widened as you scanned over his body, his perfectly sculpted face, broad shoulders, defined abs, and the very distinct outline in his sweats.
The man cleared his throat, a smirk gracing his face when he startled you out of your intense drooling. “Now, what do we have here?” he chuckled deeply, tilting his head to the side with crossed arms as he rested against the door’s frame. “Here to get your turn doll?”
You gulped, finding it harder to spit out your words as the Fushiguro man stared you down. “I.. I’m here to ask you to keep the noise down, some people have actual work to do.”
Toji whistled, “Oh? A bold one huh? I like it,” His hand reaching under your chin to make you look fully up at him. “you’re a pretty little thing you know,” he spoke, running his thumb along your bottom lip, “wonder what you’d look like ruined underneath me.”
You ignored the flutter that went off in your pussy, clenching your thighs discreetly as you glared. “Just keep the noise down okay old man? I'm trying to study.”
Toji could feel his cock grow harder, you were just what he needed. “So i’m an old man now? That’s a first, usually girls like you just call me daddy.” he shrugged, “but it’s okay, you’ll get there.”
You rolled your eyes as you walked away from him, annoyance written all over your face to mask the arousal swirling in your stomach. He’d probably fucked the entire neighborhood by now, including the campus, so you weren’t gonna fall for his sick charms. You just hoped he complied and kept the place quiet, you didn’t need that usual noise the day before your big test.
Toji had surprisingly did as you asked, and you sighed in content as you read through the pages of your notes. Your pen in your hand finding itself in between your teeth as you bit down softly. You got what you wanted, so why was your mind running wild with thoughts of the Fushiguro man’s hands on your body as he fucked you like all of those other girls.
You shifted in your seat, one leg over the other to bring stimulation to your needy clit making you whimper softly. You couldn’t let yourself give in.
Another week passed and you once again found yourself in the same noisy predicament. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the man more than twice your age. Way too old for you yet just so.. hot. Toji Fushiguro had become your fantasy.
And it was unbearable.
Hearing all these moans day and night. Hearing Toji’s loud grunts and groans as he no doubt left them with the best fuck of their lives.
It was Thursday, and Megumi would be coming tomorrow per routine, so you’d finally get a break then. But, you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted an excuse to go over there. Your face serious as you banged on his door.
You waited a minute, a shirtless Toji emerging into the door frame as it flew open. Toji smirked, “Ah, you again.” His sweatpants hung dangerously low beneath the start of his v line, black hair messy as his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips. “Finally came to your senses?”
His last fuck had left right before you came, coincidentally of course.
“N-no.” you objected sternly. “I’m here to ask you again to just be.. what are yo-“
You swallowed hard when he began stalking towards you, a sinister grin on his face as you were backed up against a wall. His breath fanned your head as he bent his neck. Hands on the walls near each side of your face. “Your face says otherwise, doll.”
“No it d-doesn’t.. you’re just a cocky old man preventing me from getting things done.”
Toji’s brow raised with a deep hearty chuckle, “Back to that nickname i see,” His hand grabbing hold of your cheeks and squeezing them together. “Gonna have to clean that mouth of yours, teach you how to be a good girl.”
You whimpered lowly, feeling wetness pool between your legs as you looked up through your lashes. Toji’s eyes trailing to your glossy lips as he inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, this dirty old man’s lips are clean”
Pressing his lips roughly to yours, your eyes widening as you gripped the edge of your skirt with a moan. Toji smirked against your lips, his hands hooking beneath your legs as he lifted you up. Your frame so much smaller in comparison to his larger one.
Toji was quick to bring you inside. And you found yourself sitting on the man’s lap, your skirt bunched up at your hips as he hammered up into your wet cunt with brute force. His hands kneading into the flesh of your ass each time you ground your hips onto him.
You let out a loud mewl, his thick cock stretching you out and grazing against your gummy walls as he fucked you deep. Feeling him within your stomach when you cried out. “Fushiguro-san— ah, so- ngh g-ood.”
“That’s not my name doll, try again.” he growled deeply, landing his palm onto your ass in a hard slap. And you whimpered tearfully at the sting. “T-toji—” Another harsh smack burning through your flesh making you let out a cry. “Last chance.”
You moaned loudly, your back arching as Toji slammed into you. “D-daddy, ahh daddy, o-oh fuckk—,”
Toji hummed in satisfaction, “Look at you, thought i was a dirty old man hmm?” His teeth biting softly at the delicate skin of your neck, his pelvis hitting your red puffy folds relentlessly. “Moaning for me like a little slut, so fucking pretty.”
You let out a shaky cry, “Haah— F-fushiguro-san,” Your pussy clenched down on his girth, his rough hand making its way around your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look at him. “Not gonna fucking tell you again.”
You mewled, “‘M sorry— nngh,” Your back arching when Toji bullied his cock deeper into you.
“Still waiting doll.” he grunted, eyes dark as his grip on your throat tightened, your moans and whimpers loud as his thighs noisily met your sticky cunt. “D-addy— ahh- so good,” you cried, feeling his angry tip forcing its way to your cervix, kissing the entrance with each harsh thrust.
“Good fucking girl, you’re getting there” he grinned with a groan. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, your pussy gushing messily onto him as loud squelching sounds filled the room. “Pussy’s so fucking tight— better be on the pill cause i’m botta cum in that pretty pussy, shit.”
“Ah— nngh daddy, ‘m close- gonna cum.” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and your lips parting in a string of incoherent babbles, Toji’s thrusts sloppy as he groaned.
“Gonna cum on this old man’s dick yeah?” He teased cockily, “Had so much talk for someone who’s falling apart on my cock.” Toji grunted, “Bet ya sat there listening like a lil perv, your hand down your panties hmm?”
You shook your head no with a cry, “Uh uh- ahh— wasn’t.”
“Sure about that? Sure you didn’t sit there and fantasize about me fucking you like a little slut?” His hand reached down to rub at your clit, a loud moan escaping your mouth.
Your breathing sped up as you felt a coil buildup in your stomach. Your body shaking with pure ecstasy. You let out a high pitched scream, the stimulation to your g spot making your head go fuzzy. Vision turning white as you clenched down tightly on Toji’s cock.
“O-oh fuck— ‘m cumming— ah, cumming daddy.” Toji’s hand pressed down harder on your throat, the pressure restricting your air flow making you let out a choked mewl. Tears welling in your eyes as his heavy balls smacked against your ass.
“Nngh—” The ring of white thickened at his base as you let out whiny cries. Toji’s hand working small circles on the sensitive bud before he brought his lips to your ear. His voice deep and gruff as he groaned. “Fuck doll- squeezing me so tight, come on and scream for me.” He breathed, “make a mess on my cock.”
Toji’s mean pace became too much, a tight pull in your stomach as your mouth fell open, legs trembling with loud cries as an unfamiliar feeling washed over you.
It was heavenly, your brain going dumb and your pupils disappearing behind heavy lids as you screamed loudly, head falling back and nails digging into his shoulders as you fell off the edge.
Toji never slowing the movement of his hips, still hammering up into you despite the mess you were making on his thighs. Your pussy spraying streams after streams of clear liquid as you arched your hips, grinding back and forth to ride out your squirting orgasm.
“Even fucking louder than any of my previous fucks.” he laughed, “Wonder what the neighbors would say, went from being a whiny little bitch to being the same thing you complained about.”
You let out a whine, Toji flipping you abruptly onto your back, his hand still around your neck as the position allowing him to hit even deeper. “Fuck,” he grunted, his words in between each thrust. “gonna fucking breed that pussy so deep.” Letting out a low groan at the last thrust, his lips meeting yours in a sloppy kiss as he bottomed out.
A whimper fell past your lips into his when you felt him fill you up, his cum shooting in hot thick spurts along the walls of your cunt.
He smirked as he pulled away, watching you pant heavily. “Would make such a good breeding bunny.” Dipping his fingers past your lips and resting them on the back of your tongue. “Might have to keep you around, can’t be disturbed if you’re the one making the noise now can you?”
You shook your head tiredly, forcing your eyes to stay open as Toji pulled out of you. His sticky cum seeping out of your fluttering pussy slowly. Your brain was still so clouded, blinking in and out of blurry vision.
Toji hid the smile threatening to creep up onto his face, his face neutral as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. “Rest if you need to, then leave.” He said nonchalantly, trying to seem like his usual self despite the fact that he had not kicked you out yet. Which was something he never did, let a girl stay any longer than a second after sex.
The man would never admit it, but there was just something about you.
He wanted to make you his pretty little doll.
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🐈 clan-confessions Follow
i'll never say this publicly but honestly i think tigerstar had some valid ideas about having one big clan. obviously he was super wrong with all the violence and force, but one big clan could solve a lot of issues. No more border patrol fighting, more food for everyone during leaf-bare season, no drama involving cross-clan mates, etc etc. a lot of deaths could be avoided if we all took care of one another instead of fighting all the time
🌠 fishluvr76 Follow
ok are we all going to ignore that anon is siding with a literal DICTATOR??? :/
🌸 sweet-tooth Follow
That's not what they meant and you KNOW it. They brought up some valid points about preserving lives, and denounced Tigerstar's actions as much too violent. Starclan above, no cat can have an opinion these days...
🌒 singlequeen7 Follow
Honestly I don't know how I feel about this... each Clan is beautifully unique and has their own traditions, which would fade away if Clans were desolved altogether. But OP makes a valid point about less violence and food scarcity. I hate the idea of sending my kits off to become Warriors, only for them to die during a stupid argument about Sunningrocks. A pile of rocks is NEVER worth a cat's life, whether they are in your Clan or not. And we have lost lives like that before.
🍄 medicinepawz Follow
I agree! Traditions are important, but every medicine cat knows that working together saves lives. Sharing herbs can stop the spread of greencough, and sharing prey stops kits from crying from hunger. We really need a better system, because I can't cry myself to sleep another night, blaming myself for not having enough cobwebs to stop a kit from bleeding out in front of me.
🐅 lonelywarrior5346-deactivated
leave it to a woman and a medicine cat to emotionally manipulate proud warriors into giving up our PURECLAN bloodlines and Clan patriotism lolol
🍄 medicinepawz Follow
HELLO?????
🐛 bug-enjoyer Follow
> complains about "emotional manipulation" (it wasn't?)
> proceeds to be misogynystic AND racist in the same sentence???
> we get it babygirl, you want to fuck Tigerstar. weird ass mf.
🐈⬛ moondrops Follow
"Lonelywarrior5346" is Flintstep from Riverclan btw
🌸 sweet-tooth Follow
LMFAOOOOWAGWHQAKDHOA
🫐 berrycloud Follow
GET HIS ASS
🌌 dorkstar Follow
nah bc which one of you killed this dude yesterday lmfao 😭💀
🌸 sweet-tooth follow
NO ARE YOU FR
🐛 bug-enjoyer Follow
@ dorkstar say sike right now 😭😭
🌌 dorkstar Follow
border patrol found him dead in a ravine 😭 yall play too much
🫐 berrycloud Follow
when i said get his ass i did not mean like this
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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season
---
I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.
...I might need to back up a bit.
My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.
They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.
Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.
My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.
Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.
It's a Great Van.
Very easy and comfortable to drive.
Stunningly good MPG for it's size.
The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.
It's just also.
Quirky.
Mischievous, even.
---
If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.
It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.
My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.
On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.
Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.
---
As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.
The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along.
Sometimes, they fight for Dominance.
The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.
Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.
I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song-
The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors
-is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.
You all know this song already.
...but in case you've forgotten the tune:
Yeah.
The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.
It does not play this song at a normal volume.
Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.
Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.
...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.
---
So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.
It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening.
I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window.
My feet are up.
There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv.
-But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage,
including,
among other valuable possessions,
the keys to her car.
...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.
There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.
Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.
Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.
I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.
The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.
It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.
I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic.
It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.
While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.
Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.
I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.
I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.
Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.
It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.
I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.
The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.
We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.
I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.
The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.
I look down at myself.
In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:
Flip Flops.
Not matching.
It's below freezing outside.
That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.
Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time.
It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.
The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.
A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal.
It is also Bright Red. with black accents.
The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.
The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.
My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge.
It is ALSO bright red.
A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.
The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.
I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:
The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.
This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes.
So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.
The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.
I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.
"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"
The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.
$6.66
"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.
I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.
It also turns on the music player.
I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.
Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.
---
If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon
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"So, and I can't believe I have to be the guy to point this out," Doc starts hesitantly.
"Terrible start! Go on," Cleo says.
"But you seem to be one of the only sane people left right now," Doc continues.
"Even more terrible, although I appreciate your delusion," Cleo says.
"And I have to--you know, if you're going to make fun of me for bringing you a problem maybe I just won't. I can solve it myself. I basically solved the moon thing myself," Doc says. "I am trying to be responsible before this turns into a whole thing."
"Doc, you came to me. Did you want anything that wasn't me making fun of you? Because you know, if so, I really feel bad for you. I already feel bad enough for you that you think you actually managed to do anything at all about the moon thing."
Doc throws his hands up. "I am trying to warn you the ocean is evil! It's important! This is important!"
"The deep sea being evil isn't new," Cleo starts, "I was building Atlantis last season--"
"It sent, sent, salmon people to kill me!"
Cleo stops. They look Doc in the eyes. They search for any signs of deception at all. It's a little hard to tell, on account of Doc only having one eye even capable of expressiveness, and his face being the opposite of human, but...
"What?" Cleo says dumbly.
"It was like, like, Beef and Skizz, they were crazy! They were talking about a giant fish and how I shouldn't defy it. And I was like, what is a Big Salmon? I don't know, man, but they're ocean mobsters. And then I started looking. It's not just them. It's not just them Cleo, it's everyone. The ocean, man, it's evil, it's getting everyone. I've, I've made a list. Grian. Have you looked at Grian lately?"
"I think if we were worried about every time Grian got possessed then we wouldn't have any free time," Cleo says hesitantly.
"Right, right, but it was supposed to be Demise. The killing each other, all of the killing each other. I thought, oh, that'll get it out of their systems. But it's not just him Cleo! It's--have you seen Gem? She's all, oh, I will build a boat. Oh, I'll provoke the creatures of the deep. And then. Do you know what I saw all of Team ZITS doing? Fishing!"
"Doc," Cleo says, increasingly concerned for him. He looks... disheveled.
"And not just fishing, oh no. They were standing in the water fishing! And Pearl! Have I mentioned that Pearl is dressing up as a salmon? I mentioned that, yes? The salmon Pearl?"
"You hadn't, unless that was the big fish thing," Cleo says.
"No, that was something different, I think Pearl is maybe a different salmon."
"Sure, okay, more than one salmon, that makes sense," Cleo says dryly.
"And everyone, they are fishing each other around the ocean, yes? Etho is in the ocean! XB is in the ocean! I think I saw Joe crawl out of the ocean earlier, he was all wet and haunted! Surely that is a sign the ocean is evil."
"No, he's just like that," Cleo says. "Also, I did the fishing rod thing too. I think it's just... normal fun."
"They're getting you too. My assessment that you're the sane one. I've said too much."
"I think you need sleep," Cleo says. "Doc, there isn't an ocean-based conspiracy. It's the start of the season. You know we're just like this."
"That's the thing, I can't sleep," Doc says. "I can't. I sleep and I see it. I see it, lurking beneath the waves. It's calling for me Cleo. It's calling. And when it calls, it seems so--kind. But then. But then! I wake up, and I remember the shape of it, and..."
Doc shudders and stops talking. Cleo looks at him a moment longer and then, like comforting a nervous animal, takes his shoulder.
"You should take a nap. It's the start of the season. You're over-stressing yourself. Too much too fast?" they say, as soothingly as possible.
"It's coming for us," Doc says. "It's coming. I don't want to ignore it this time, yes? What's coming for us. We should--we should--"
"Even if it is, Doc, I don't think we can fight the ocean. Come on. Maybe sleeping in my base will help reset your brain."
Doc shudders, but lets Cleo guide him inside. They watch until at last he falls asleep fitfully before shaking their head and sighing.
"A giant fish that was trying to kill him. Honestly. I don't know where he gets these things from. Always a conspiracy with him..."
They decide to go to Ren. Ren knows how to humor Doc. Surely they can get in their ridiculous games again, and Doc will forget all about this. Doc would enjoy the Ministry of Ministries. Maybe he can be an anarchist or something. That would be good for him.
Doc cries out in his sleep. Cleo turns to him.
Then again, they have this strange sinking feeling in their stomach. Doc's... awfully worked up.
But it's Doc.
Surely it's nothing.
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Book Crowley really is the most character ever.
He doesn’t need sleep but he loves it so he keeps doing it. He slept through the entire 14th century because he hated it. He answers to “Hail Satan” with a little wave and a “Hi”. He actually wants to listen to classical music but it keeps turning into Queen. We don’t realize he has yellow slitted eyes until he’s frantically searching for Aziraphale at the burning bookshop. He keeps a nice, spacious, modern flat just because it’s the kind of flat the human he pretends to be would have. He bought a great sound system and forgot to buy speakers for it but made it work miraculously. He keeps a fully stocked fridge with food that never goes bad just to keep up appearances. He loves Mary Poppins and tries to emulate her as a nanny. He was cast out of Hell. Deep down he is an optimist who believes the Universe will look after him. He hasn’t forgotten he was an Angel once and still tries to go good. He actively tries to keep people from getting harmed. He hates guns. He questions God’s plan but still trusts there is one and maybe he has a part in it. He was friends with Da Vinci. He went to Spain, saw what the Spanish Inquisition was doing and proceeded to get drunk for a week.
I want to study him like a bug under a microscope.
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man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am
so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!
[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]
They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.
But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)
[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]
Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.
The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.
[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]
Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.
[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]
And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.
Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.
Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.
And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!
And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.
And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.
[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]
There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures
1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.
2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps
3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.
But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!
[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]
Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.
We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)
and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it
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You know what would be both Cool(tm) AND Pants Shittingly Terrifying? Eldritch Space Whale Danny!
Except NOT! Because he's not a whale! Just snoozing and Giganto-Fuck-Off HUGE!
Imagine it! Danny. Joint Custody Child of The Ancients Of Time And Space. Space is SALTY AF because their BITCH OF AN EX has used his FUCKING POWERS, AGAIN, to CHEAT. Clockwork how DARE YOU.
You knew he'd be our Son in advance!
YOU SNUCK IN AND STARTING BONDING WITH OUR CHILD BEHIND MY BACK!
YOU [REDACTED]!
Danny? Sitting off to the Side as a Sentient Everything and Nothing made of galaxies and starlight, howls expletives at their Ex, who is being... REALLY snippy back? WOW, Clockwork. I mean, JESUS, man. Danny's from "oh bless their heart" Nowhere, Midwest. And even HE thinks that last one was both backhanded and cold af.
......he should take notes. *continues to eat his popcorn*
Anyway! APPARENTLY, Space Parent has taken him in the divorce. With much huffing. Tucked under their arm Like The Football(tm). And honestly? This is kinda hilarious, so he's cool with it. Byyyyyy~ Clock Dad! See you on weekends~☆!
*Exasperated Time Noises*
It's pretty cool! He learns a lot. Learns he's probably? Gonna be SOME variation of Space Ghost. Might even take over Space's... well, EVERYTHING, should the unforeseeable occur. So obviously, gonna have to learn The Family Business, as it were!
Which?
UNSPEAKABLY HYPED, YES PLEASE.
SPACE AND STAR STUFF! HECK YEAH!
Unfortunately? Still a Halfa. Bleh, squishy need to eat and sleep. Why they get in the way of Hyperfixation? Why no more space dust? Nooooo, don't drag him away from the controls! He can still learn! Sleep is for quitters! Cowards! *whining in Give Me Back My Blorbos, You Monsters*
But, no. He apparently has to "take care of his body" and "not burn out". Eat "real food". A protein bar counts! He probably ate one of those! Give him back his STARS! He doesn't CARE if he sounds like a toddler! That's DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SECRETS OF SPACE ITSELF! He'll BITE, so HELP HIM-! *Is scruffed like a cranky infant being carried off to beddy bye*
Injustice! D:<
But, none the less, body's require sleep. He shovles down his food, washes up, and flops down in his bed. In the nice lil cozy "Safe For My Half Apprentice Who Is Also My Adopted Son" corner. He passes out in that corner. Starts to float, as he has done countless times before, when agitated before bed. Floats OUT of that corner.
That Safe Little Corner.
IN THE CENTER, THE BEATING HEART OF SPACE.
You know... the place ALL OF SPACE connects too. Where Universe Form and Die. The Grand Recycler. Dust to Dust, from the ashes of old, to the creation of new. Where PORTALS are randomly assigned. So that the Omniversal Ectoplasmic Levels may always be balanced at near to perfect levels, allowing free flow of Souls through the various Reincarnation cycles.
Space, of course, doesn't MANAGE the Ectoplasm itself. Nor the Souls! Different Ancient for THAT, but they DO manage the PORTALS. We live in a SYSTEM after all. Everyone has their "departments" as it were. So really, it's quiet... Danny? Honey? Awful quiet back there! You, uh, fallen asleep, Starlight?
*empty room*
(O.O)
*inhale* AAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!!!
Meanwhile! He be Snoozin'! And Ghostin'! Ghost Snoozin'! Is extra comfy, cause he weightless and got not booooones~☆!
But! He? Is not a child anymore! Has learned to... for lack of a better term, Let Go. To finally ACCEPT his Death. His inhumanity. His Amortality. Death no longer holds him, can no longer let him go. He is... not immortal. He is disowned, by his own doing and his own choice, at his timeless moment of Ending.
When Life let go of his hand and Death kindly offered theirs, he did not take it.
And that's okay.
It took awhile. Talking to older ghosts. Most vague and vast, near formless. Because it's... it's scary. And it's all you know. All, really, you've EVER known. Inherent to your identity, even after you leave that part you behind.
You are "human". "Martian" or "Xy'xeruian", something else, and you never question it. Even when you've left behind everything ELSE. Your name, your eyes, your history and skin. Yet you fly around and pretend. Still alive, still human.
But is that YOU?
Or just the form you found your start in?
And like? It's okay if it IS! Sometimes, yeah, you ARE. You look down deep and find a "don't know what you were expecting, buddy" sign stapled to a mirror. But more often? It's that last hurdle. The final step in Letting Go.
Everyone mourns at their own pace.
And they are the ghosts of who they were.
It helped. Mourning for the kid he was. Who was fourteen and wanted to be an astronaut. Who died and will never have a grave. The longer he exsists, for he can't technically be called Alive, the more painfully young that child seems.
It was okay.
To cry for Danny Fenton.
Then? To let him go. Let his memory, be memory. And his Past be the grave that child rests in. Loved dearly and remembered, but no longer binding his soul.
He doesn't have to wear that face anymore.
No tributes to the Dead.
He got? Kinda... BIG. Like REALLY big. Spiraling, serpentine, cracking ice, and burning galaxies. Like a fourth dimensional dragon, of ice and stars, somehow forcing its way into a three dimensional space. Atop it all, between two vast, impossible horns? Made of glacial ice coating the warping hearts of black holes, who's shape themselves seem to shift in unknowable ways? There burns, like comet trails, with super novas, compressed to decorative gems beneath glittering morning frost, a Terrible Crown.
He? Thinks? He MIGHT have wings.
He can't tell.
Because APPARENTLY he's a fuckin tesseract! Oh, no, sorry. He might me a Zone DAMNED PENTERACT!!! Is THIS what he gets for hanging out with Clockwork all the time? He just liked the quiet! Now his "true form" is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL for most people to look at!
Clock Dad WHAT THE HELL?!
(You see, now, why Space broke up with him? An ASSHOLE)
So! Danny stays, usually at least, in his "Hi, yes, I am Normal Human Man" Ghost form. But NOW? Now it PINCHS. Because it's TOO SMALL. But hey, that's fine! It's not like he has an ingrained habit of transforming when super tired and stressed! To float sleep for Maximum Restfulness(tm).
Ha ha!
Why does that feel like foreshadowing?
BECAUSE IT IS!
Danny? Snoozing! Space? Has LOST THE BABY! Portals? Have done a Jood Gob in Portalling, something they are vaguely sure they are supposed to be doing! Yay them! They have no brain cells but still enjoy helping! They moved a thing! That's helpful right? Yay! Probably!
And on DC's planet Earth?
They? Just choked on their fuckin coffee. One moment? La dee daa~ oooh~ look! Stars! Deep space! Oh, hiiii~ Watchtower! The NEXT? *every alarm in the building starts LOSING ITS SHIT* Giant World OBLITERATING SHAPE completely takes up the screen.
From near PLUTO.
There are NO WORDS TO DISCRIBE HOW FUCK OFF BIG THIS THING IS, MR. PRESIDENT. It will eat our nukes and LAUGH. Call! EVERYBODY!!!
Obviously? Superman. I mean really, OF COURSE Superman. Frankly, all the Supers. Because we would like to KEEP having a planet, thanks. Only? The more reports that come in? The more everyone is getting "oh fuck. This is a Workd Eater" vibes.
A massive, massive, Sleeping Titan of a Planet Destroying World Eater.
That MIGHT BE MAGIC.
*highly stressed Everyone noises*
And WORSE? Superman? Can't TOUCH it! Oh sure, at FIRST he could! But then he apparently pushed too hard in just one spot! And it felt POKED AT. So now, after flicking superman HALFWAY BACK TO EARTH to make him stop? No one can physically touch it!
But! There is hope!
Because? The creature is GREEN. Bright, luminous, Lantern Green! And Earth's Lanterns have already sent for back up. Combined? The were able to move a... hand? Paw? Something. But! With the combine forces of several nearby sectors of Lanterns? They promise the power to either relocate the creature or at least hold it in orbit until FURTHER forces can be deployed!
They refuse to harm the creature until it proves actively hostile, as it could have been seeking a place to nap and chosen one inconvenient to established planetary life. Frankly? Earth doesn't CARE where you relocate the giant Eldritch Space Dragon. Just NOT IN OUR BACKYARD, PLEASE.
....YES WE ARE SURE! We don't CARE if the scientific community of our planet is begging you to set up an area for them to place an "observation satellite"! No giant Eldritch Space Dragons in our solar system! It might WAKE UP!
Naturally, about half way THROUGH this Highly Delicate Operation?
Danny Wakes Up.
@hypewinter @hdgnj @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation
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Like I think about pensions and retirement and working until I'm in my 60s and I wonder why I would want to be there for it when the only thing that I have to look forward to is shitty work for barely-enough pay for most of my life, up until I finally get to go (if I have my 40 years worth of trimesters) and enjoy life on a pension too small to do anything with. I literally hung out with my best friend today and we made hot chocolate and I think about retirement and suddenly I forget about every good thing in life
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Senshi is probably the most fandomized character in Dungeon Meshi, and while I don't exactly mind it, I do think he has more depth than that. I find all his little quirks and idiosyncrasies to be fascinating; he's very stubborn and set in his ways about things that seemingly don't matter, he thinks about things that other people don't, he has a deeply set value system that informs everything he does. He cares A Lot, like, this man cares So Much. That's the kind of person you have to be to drop everything to help a random group of adventurers save one woman. But because he feels so strongly about things, he can also be surprisingly immature at times (although he's also the character most likely to admit he was wrong about something). I think part of that is because he's lived in the dungeon on his own so long that he's not used to working with other people. He will extend empathy and friendship to almost anyone, but he does things his own way, and he doesn’t always feel the need to explain his way of thinking because again, he's usually on his own. He's both incredibly wise and kind of childish in ways that seem contradictory at first, but make more and more sense the more we learn about him. Major kudos to Ryoko Kui's writing and pacing to make that transition so seamless and have all those details from his backstory click into place perfectly. And on a wider thematic level, Senshi is kind of a perfect counterpart to characters like Thistle (or any other dungeon lord). Senshi understands the dungeon in ways that even its creator doesn't. Although everyone is scrambling to take control of the dungeon, Senshi is the one who actually takes care of it. He's the one who thinks about things like nutrition and proper sleep and the ecosystem, all those things that it's easy to ignore when you get swept up by the grandeur of it all. He's the most important character to have present in a story that explores life and death and hunger. His constant, invisible presence holds everything together.
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Teen Dad (OP81)
(Part 1 of the Blind Item Series)
(Part 1 of the Teen Dad OP AU)
Summary: Rumors are flying about a young driver with kids
Seeing the rumor, and various other tweets commenting on the matter, first thing this morning was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. Oscar immediately sat up, frightening his fiancée who was asleep next to him a moment before.
“What? What's wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up.
“Fuck this is not good.” He mumbled as he looked through more tweets. He knew he had minutes before his PR team started messaging him on how best to proceed.
“Osc, you are really scaring me. What is going on?” His fiancée asked again. After 5 years together and two kids, she knew him well enough to know that Oscar isn’t easily woken up. While he usually wakes up early to train or help the kids, on days like today where he has the chance to sleep in, he will usually take it. But the amount of notifications he started getting were enough to get him to check his phone and once he saw the severity of the situation he was awake and alarmed.
“A blind item about a ‘younger f1 driver with two kids he had as a teen’ just went up. No confirmation on who but it seems they have gotten it down to only a few of us. They don’t know yet but I am sure they will know soon.”
He was grateful they hadn’t clocked in on him but Oscar was sure with a bit more time to dig people would put two and two together. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he was a teen dad, not anymore at least. When he was even more so an up and coming driver, he kept it hush because he was nervous being 18 with two kids would lead teams to reconsider where his priorities were, his family or his career. That wouldn’t have been crazy of them to do though, as important as racing was to Oscar, he would always pick his family first. Luckily, though, he had a great enough support system so he didn't have to choose.
Most people in Oscar’s life knew. Any teams apart from Prema, Mclaren, and Alpine were none the wiser but why would they need to know? Not all drivers knew either, some who he had become closer to were let in on the secret, especially Logan, who had been there the entirety of his kids' lives. Annoyingly, at least in Oscar’s opinion, he has been titled ‘the cool uncle’ from day one.
“What do we do?” his fiancée asked, snapping him out of his spiraling.
“I imagine it is up to my team to figure that one out. I’ll message them now. Get the kids ready and I’ll be done in time to help with breakfast.” He said as he got up.
After a long, pretty impromptu, call, it was decided Oscar would make a statement about it before it was revealed to be him. He wasn’t too happy about not getting to really do it on his own terms but this is the way it worked out, and hey, Oscar would be lying if he said he wasn’t already planning which race he was going to bring his kids to first.
oscarpiastri
liked by mclaren, logansargeant, landonorris, and 518,294 others
oscarpiastri This is of course not how I wanted to do this. I had hoped to have more time before I had to let the peace of privacy go but these things happen when you are in the spotlight. So yes, I am a father of two great kids and I have been since I was 18. I am not ashamed by the fact I was a teen dad, and am certainly not hiding my kids out of anything but love. I hadn’t realized I could truly love anything or anyone more than racing but then these two came into my life and I realized I would give it all up for them. Luckily, with the support of their mother (who is my fiancée) and my family, I didn’t have to give it up. My four person family means more to me than anything and I count my lucky stars each night that I have been blessed with them. I ask that you please respect our privacy. This isn’t the end of you seeing the Piastri twins but I, being the over protective father I am, am not ready to throw two 3 year olds into the chaos of the motorsport world just yet.
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Part 2: A Much Needed Interview out now!
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God i want a dark!dr.kry fic soo bad. I read your most recent silas fic and I thought it was so good i ATE IT UP
Things you shouldn't see
Doctor!yandere x reader
Summary: you've finally realized what type of man Dr Kry is, and what he is capable of doing.
Warnings: murder, bruises, yandere, poison etc.
Word count: 2.3k
Your crying hurts him, it really does, but he can’t be soft. Not now. You had tried to escape again. If he hadn’t come back in time to catch you in the door, God knows what could have happened to you.
“Please, please don’t”, you sob as he cuffs your wrists to the bed’s railing with belt-looking leather. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“Spare your voice, Y/N”, he tells you sharply. “Begging and pleading won’t work — you're not a child. You put yourself in this situation, didn’t you? How about we take some adult consequences?” He fixes the last buckle. “Too tight?”
You don't answer, you only cry. Dr Kry grabs your chin softly to direct your attention back to him.
“Y/N, listen to me”, he says sternly. “Are the restraints too tight? Yes or no? Don’t lie.”
“No”, you sob.
“Good. You know why I’m doing this, right? I don’t think it’s funny.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Stop with the bullshit, Y/N. I caught you in the damn door, Y/N.” He sighs frustratedly and runs a hand through his blonde hair. “I can’t let this slip. You almost escaped from me once, remember? I’m not letting that happen again. I’m going to go get you dinner and you are going to get yourself together until I’m back, okay?”
You nod slightly. When he's exited the room, you break out into sobs again. Have to get them out of your system before he returns. You hate him. Hate him so much.
He's back ten minutes later with two cardboard boxes filled with food. He looks somewhat pleased that you're not crying anymore. He stands by his desk.
“You don't understand that I want what's best for you”, Dr Kry says while opening the plastic lids. “If you did, you wouldn't try to do stupid stuff like this.”
“Turn it off”, you say through gritted teeth.
He glances at the air purifier, already knowing what you’re talking about.
“No, I will not”, he says simply.
“You're killing me!”
Dr Kry scoffs and dumps your foodbox on your legs.
“If I wanted you dead, Y/N, you'd already be in the mortuary”, he says and rolls over to you on his stool. “But as you can tell by your current status in your room, I don't.”
He picks up the fork and holds a bite of potato to your lips. You refuse to open your mouth.
“Are we doing this?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “Do I need to be mean?”
“Please don’t”, you whisper, scared.
“You don’t want me to be mean?”
You shake your head quickly.
“Good, me neither”, Dr Kry says. “Glad that we can agree on something. Open your mouth now.”
You open your mouth enough for him to put in the fork in your mouth. Dr Kry notices how you fight back the tears and sighs in defeat.
“If you really want to cry, then do it”, he says quietly.
It’s a trick. He actually doesn’t want you to cry, and you know that. But the tear that runs down your cheek can’t be brought back. You flinch when his hand brushes against your cheek to wipe it softly. He holds another fork of potato and meat to your mouth. You grimace slightly.
“Just eat and you’ll get to sleep”, Dr Kry promises you.
“Turn it off”, you whisper. “Please.”
Dr Kry sighs and walks over to the air purifier, turning it off. The soft buzzing finally, finally stopped. Dr Kry can tell that you relax in your restraints.
“Thank you”, you whisper without looking at him.
“I’ll have to turn it on again”, he says.
“Why?”
“Because it keeps you where I want you. It’s much easier than keeping you cuffed to the bed like this.”
You tug at the restraints, as if you suddenly remember that you’re wearing them. Dr Kry’s hand shoots out over your right wrist.
“Stop”, he says. “Don’t do that. I don’t like to see bruises on you. Just let it be. Give in, alright?”
You glance down at his large hand and grow cold. Could he break your wrist? Could he actually hurt you if he really wanted to? Without tools, without medicine and drugs?
“Open your mouth”, Dr Kry and removes his hand to give you the fork full of food.
This time, you open your mouth without fuss. He smiles, pleased.
“Have I fucked up for myself now?” you mumble without looking at him.
“Just a tad bit”, Dr Kry smiles and wipes some sauce of your lips with his thumb. “But it's nothing that we can't restore.”
She had seen it, and although she tried to convince herself that she was overthinking, she couldn't bring herself to admit that everything was okay with Dr Kry’s patient — or Dr Kry for that matter. There has always been something with him that has rubbed her the wrong way. He's always been polite and helpful, but she thinks that it's a facade. There is something he's hiding, she can tell that there's a certain darkness in his eyes. And the fact that they never see, hear or get any reports about his patient — despite being here for so long — worries her.
One day, she decides to sneak inside. You’re lying in the hospital bed, sleeping soundly. But other than that, the room is empty. The woman notices how your wrists are … cuffed to the side of the bed. She sneaks over to you and carefully shakes your shoulder. You open your eyes slowly, and then dart them open. In pure fear, you start to tug at the restraints.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the woman shrieks. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“Who are you?!” you gasp. “Where’s Dr Kry?!”
“I don’t know, please be quiet, I’m not going to hurt you.”
You eventually start to calm down.
“Why are you cuffed to the bed?” the woman asks carefully, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “What has he done to you?”
“Please help me”, you beg.
“I saw that you tried to leave the room before … and that he snatched you back.”
“I-I will.”
“Please help me, I’m begging you, he’s killing me!” you nod at the air purifier. “He’s poisoned it! You have to help me!”
She is just about to unbuckle the leather strands keeping you to the bed when the door opens. You meet eyes with Dr Kry and feel how your entire body goes numb.
Shit.
His eyes glare at the woman as he slowly closes the door behind him, locking it shut.
“Can I help you?” he asks coldly. “What are you doing with my patient?”
The woman spins around and stutters in fear.
“Who allowed you to come in here?” Dr Kry asks, sounding suspicious — and extremely angry, although he tries to hide it. “Speak up!”
“I-I …”, the woman stutters.
Dr Kry walks closer. You’ve never seen his body language this … territorial before. It’s almost animalistic.
“What have they told you?” he asks the woman.
“Nothing!” the woman shrieks.
With one quick glance at you, he scoffs with a small, cold smile on his face.
“I wouldn’t believe anything they say, ma’am”, he says amusedly, although you’re sure that he’s angry like a bee. “They’re sick, they’re not thinking clearly. Seems like we have to talk after this.”
“Don’t be angry at them”, the woman says, finally collecting herself. “You are the one abusing your position. You should be the one who’s getting yelled at!”
“Oh, I’m not mad at my patient. How could I? If they don’t know what’s good for themselves, how could I ever expect them to know when to speak …” He gave you a warning look, “... and when to shut up?” He looked back at the woman. “They’re sick, after all.”
“Why are you keeping them prisoner?”
Dr Kry puts his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “I’m not keeping anyone prisoner. Did they tell you that?”
“You’ve poisoned the air purifier.”
“Why would I ever do that?” he laughs. “That’s absurd! You don’t think I have other things to do? A real job?” He takes a step closer. He’s almost reaching her by now. “Listen, my patient has been reading a lot of fantasy stories while being emitted here, and they must have spun their head out of control. Being in a hospital for as long as they have, all alone, must mess with ones head a bit. Don’t worry about it.”
He has slammed it over the nurse’s head, striking her to the floor. You fight against the restraints, but they’re as stuck as stone. Dr Kry continues to hit the poor nurse with the metal pipe, causing blood to splatter over the walls — and you. You can’t breathe when the red liquid lands on your face, too horrified to even move. The screams from the woman turns into moans of pain, then sobs, then silence. Dr Kry huffs and gets up from the ground, letting go of the metal pipe that clinks against the floor. His white coat and blue overalls are drenched in blood, and his face is covered in red. You’re shivering in your bed and meet his eyes with wide open eyes.
Dr Kry walks over to his desk. You can tell how he picks up a metal pipe used for the IV-stand you use every now and then.
“No!” you scream, but it’s too late.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want you to see that”, he pants lowly.
Sobs start to exit your body. Dr Kry hurries over to you, sinking down on his knees by the bed, almost lying his upper body into yours.
“I’m sorry, little one”, he whispers and cups your cheeks.
“Don’t touch me!” you try to scream while doing your best to turn your head away, but his strong grip is forcing you to stay still, forces you to look at him.
“I didn’t want you to see that”, he repeats. “Why did she have to come and but into our business, hm? Oh, please don’t blame yourself for her death. It’s not your fault.”
He notices how you’re trying to rip your head away from him.
“I know that you’re afraid”, he says. “It was not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you, I could never blame you, you know that.” He wipes your tears. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to do it again.”
You’re unsure if you’ve ever sobbed this harshly before in your life. The cries ripple through your body, forcing your chest to lift with every sob. It hurts, like an unwelcomed workout. Dr Kry holds your face against his chest, hushing as he hugs your head close to him. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, and it makes you nauseous.
“Let’s get you cleaned up”, Dr Kry says and unbuckles you.
You hesitate getting out of bed, glancing careful down at the dead body bleeding out on the floor. Dr Kry hurries to pick you up in his arms and walk into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and places you down in the tub. Carefully, he removes your hospital gown and turns on the shower. You refuse to look his way.
“Listen, Y/N”, he says and sinks down outside the tub. “There are things you shouldn’t see … and this was one of them. I don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I’m a realist, okay?”
“Is that what you’re going to do to me if I try to leave again?” you cry.
“No! Don’t even say such nonsense. That’s absurd. How could you ever think that?”
You find it ironic that he grows offended. He starts to wash off the blood from your face with the gentle stream of the shower.
He takes one of your wrists in hand and lets his thumb run over the deep mark from the leather.
“I told you not to fight against it”, he whispers with a sigh. “We’ll have to put bandage on that.”
Dr Kry continues to wash the blood off of you and his own hands. You follow the red water down the drain.
He puts the shower head back on the hanger and tells you to wait there until he comes back. You hug your knees close to your chest and watch how he disappears out of the bathroom. You can hear how he starts to clean up the body outside the closed door. This is what happens to the people who believe you. Those that trust Dr Kry’s words about you being too sick to function, and start to hallucinate, are no help … but those that are never get far enough.
You shiver from cold air hitting your wet, naked body and bring your knees even closer to you. There’s a new form of silence in the room, a silence that eats you up from the inside … and yet, silence had never been this loud before. You would be able to hear a needle drop to the floor on the other side of the hospital.
It had taken wells to gather the courage to try to run away again, and it had been shattered in the moment of two seconds. Your hope had been sparked again when you saw the nurse, and knew that she was one of the few that actually believed you.
You turn your face down into your knees and cry in realization that you’ll never get to leave the hospital as long as Dr Kry is around. In time, the poisoned air purifier will have killed you … but you’re unsure that you’ll get to leave the hospital even then.
I’m going to die.
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Omg imagine james doing something stupid (not much imagination needed there) and r is telling him of (lovingly) and he’s just like “yes ma’am🫡” and the others are like side eyeing him I just NEED james to call me ma’am in an argument
i hope you are having a great december so far my love
(not much imagination needed there) LOL
i could kiss you this idea is so cute thank you lovely
“Oh, my boy.” You croon to the mess tumbling into your lap. Softly, you brush some hair from his fluttering eyes. “What‘ve the evil twins done to you.”
“Evil twins!” Sirius gasps.
Remus laughs. “That’s a new one.”
You don’t look up from the sickly boy careening for your touch. “What did they feed you?”
He moans into you, muttering something you can’t pick up. He’s gone all right, ten shades of flushed and warm to the touch. It’s already a warm night, but this is no warmth that came naturally.
“We didn’t do anything.” Remus denies impishly.
“Puking pastilles again?” You eye them. “Do you know how long we sat by the toilet?”
“That was not our fault.”
“And neither were the nosebleed nougats?” You sigh. “Seriously thought his brain was coming out his nose.”
Sirius nods in agreement nose scrunching. “Not his finest moment.”
“Because of you.”
“Don’t start with me, woman.” His finger points between your eyes.
James is malleable under you, nose pressing into your thigh coyly. You see the corner of a smile as you fuss, guilty pleasure at your roaming touch. The room is hot, warm bodies passing and going as they please through the small flat. You fear he may run a fever, though that’s uncommon. James immune system is a rock, solid at anything thrown to it.
You press your hand to his forehead. “Has he had to much?”
The boys eye each other suspiciously. “Too much?”
You scoff. “To drink?”
“Depends.” Sirius shrugs
“On what!”
Their dubious behavior alarms you. These boys are up to something, or rather, were up to something, and now they’re avoiding dealing with the consequence of you.
“The substance.”
“Substance?” You sit up straight, shuffling the boy under you. He grumbles in protest.
“Potion.” Remus gives.
You frown apprehensively. “You didn’t.”
“We didn’t,” Sirius starts.
“he did.” Remus finishes.
Felix Felicis. They’d been talking about it a couple weeks ago, getting their hands on some. You protested, begged them, to forget it. It’s too dangerous, your voice of reason lowered their spirits, James you’ll be sleeping on the couch if you risk yourself like that.
“No,” You whine, fretting over the intoxicated fool. “how much?”
“Ask loverboy.”
“The whole,” James takes a deep breath mid sentence. “bottle.”
“Oh my god,” your eyes wide at the older boys standing. “he’ll be puking all night.”
“Maybe not..”
Your face drops into your hands exhausted. “Puking Pastilles all over again.”
“M’sorry.” James moans under you. “M’so sorry, lovely.”
“That was so stupid.” You scold lightly, hand coming down to flatten over his collar bones. “So, so, so, stupid!”
You're ruffled, shaken at the thought of him downing such an expensive, easily tainted, potion.
“Do you listen to everything they tell you to do?”
“No,” he starts slowly.
“Seems like it.” You bristle, pulling him up to sit. You look into his eyes seriously and he shuffles, nervous under your gaze. “Get a mind of your own.”
His fingers twitch at the hem of the dress you’d picked out tonight, squeezing it in his grip, grounding himself in reality. “Yes ma’am.”
Sirius scoffs behind you, shaking his head at Remus who looks equally perturbed at James’ extra affection. Under them, you wrap your arms around his neck surely. Besides the soft sent of sickly sweet potion, he smells of pine and cologne. You let yourself recognize his body is continuing to function as it should. Untouched, mostly, by the yellow inebriant.
“I can’t stand you, do you feel well?”
“I’m feeling better.”
You stick your face in his shoulder. “Be serious.”
“No, I don’t feel well.”
You sigh into him, pressing a kiss into his freckled skin. He won’t sleep on the couch tonight, though you aught to teach him a lesson.
“We’re going home.”
“What?” James frowns. “We only just got here.”
“D’you have another pool to jump in?”
He cringes at the memory of his fireball spree. “Kay, coming.”
You collect your coat and purse as you stand, leaving James to fend for himself behind you. “Felix Felicis isn’t a joke, one wrong tincture of thyme and you’re in St Mungo’s- James, were are your shoes?”
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