#that is curly and reaches my shoulder blades and dark brown eyes that look black in most lighting and sometimes photograph solid black

[unhingedselfships]

In The Tags/Reblog Game

Describe yourself in the most EBONY DARK'NESS DEMENTIA RAVEN WAY My Immortal manner you can.

Feel free to stick as close to the original description format, or go completely off the rails.

#MY NAME IS KIMBERLY ANABIEL EPHEM'RAL BUNNY TEMPEST #I have messy ashy-red-brown hair (that is not how I got my name) #that is curly and reaches my shoulder blades and dark brown eyes that look black in most lighting and sometimes photograph solid black #which makes me look like some kinda of demonic being #(or just a shitty selfie taker) #Literally no one ever tells me I look like Ivy Levan (AN: if you don't know who that is fair enough). #I'm not related to Rimuru Tempest because he is not a real person #I'm not a vampire and my teeth could use some work but I am a broke American so I'm shit out of luck. #I AM NOT A PREP #I AM A LOSER #I AM TOO BROKE TO BE A GOTH #I wear mostly oversized tops and leggings in the most obnoxious colors and patterns I can find. #I want people to cringe when they look at me. #I hate WalMart but buy most of my clothes from there. #For example today I'm wearing an old ass soft as hell pale pink tshirt and crayon-blue sweatpants.

[rm-lionheart]

Cal turned to his right, slashed horizontally with spin backward. Gathering all the momentum of his weight and accelerated speed as he swings his sword of white flame to Hood's neck. Thud. An arrow sticks out of Cals right forearm. Cal stumbles, missing Hood's neck to cut his chest instead. Blood splatters. Hood jumps backward. Cal is screaming. Arrow in deep. Cal struggles to pull it out without feeling a lot of pain. Hood touched the cut on. 

Nearly.

He looked for where the arrow could have come from. Hood sees a figure. About 6 feet. Grey brown, over-worn tunic that could white long ago. Hastily made boots of old leather. He holds a bow in hand and a quiver on his back. Curly black hair. Although his skin is of a dark hue, a semblance of a farmer tan persists. Hood's face.

You can't be serious…

Drac waves then point to Cal. 

Oh, that’s right.

With Cal exhausted and injured, this is the best chance of winning Hood has had all the fight. But he must make this chance be worth it. He cannot call for his copy for any more than 5 seconds more. He can't let such an opportunity escape his grasp.Now it's the time to finish this. 

Hood sprints back in. Hood leaps and hammers down his short sword. Cal grabs Hood’s arm with his open hand before it could reach. As if his arm was in a vice, hood cannot pull away. Another arrow shoots close to Cal's grabbing arm. Cal lets Hood's arm go, before almost being hit by a loose arrow. Cal evades another arrow by his head. He steps back. Cal looks between Drac at the doorway and Hood in front of him. Arrow still in his right forearm, he gave his sword to his left hand. 

“This will be enough to thwart you away.”

Blade up, Hood runs back in again. Slash at the throat, stab at knee, strike from under. Cal was blocking all until another arrow came. Its target, the left side of Cal's chest. Cal blocks, leaving him open for a Hood’s stab at Cal's body. Blade meets meat. A scream comes from Cal; he strikes at hoods with renewed fervour. Sword aura edge blazing with white heat. Hood stayed to block the blow with his vambrace. It shatters inside his jacket sleeve. Searing heat cleaves through Hood's skin, muscle and the bone. Hood pushes his sword into a tricep. Cal’s face fills with terror. His flame explodes the stone beneath. 

“HOOD!” Drac screams.

Hood’s arm is cut through. The flaming white sword reaches Hood's shoulder. Sword slicing through the body like cake. Blood splatters like raindrops hitting the ground. An arrow flies towards Cal’s head. Caught but his right hand.

“It's too late for your friend, Drac.”

Hood’s copy materialises in a crouched position. From below, he leaps with every portion of strength his body could muster. Hood's gleaming short sword pierce through the sternum to the heart. Cal looks down stunned. Eyes wide. A face of dread. Hood pushes the sword in deep then dematerialised. Two figures stand bloody, close to death. 

Cal turns to Drac and points with a trembling finger. “You…You are done.” He collapses to the ground. Hood wobbles to the wall to rest. Drac runs after him.

“Hood! Hood!!” Drac holds Hood and lays him down gently. Tears come out from his face. “I’m sorry! It’s all my fault!

Hood pulls down his mask. 

“No.. No. I didn't have that much time left, you see. Us copies, our lives were going to end when we joined up together. We were taught and trained to expect it. Just di- ” Hood coughs blood. “Just didn't know the end would come this quick.” Hood's voice is like gravel. Drac sobs, wiping tears away. 

“I was envious of you.” hood says

“What do you mean”

“Exactly what it means, I was envious of your life here. I spent ten weeks spying on you when I could have picked you up on the very first day. I saw your life. How… content you were. I saw your friend. Made me think of bad things. Things like… what having a friend would feel like. Having a family.

Drac listens.

“The envy turned into hate. “He shouldn't be here” I thought to myself. This peaceful life isn't for us. Then you were to be sacrificed. What I kept delaying was finally happening. It was out of my hands. So I convinced myself I wasn't taking you by force.”

“It wasn't your fault” Drac smiles with red teary eyes. “You saved me. You were my hero.”

Hood finally looks at Dracs' eyes. 

“And besides, I would join you if you had asked. Who doesn't love an adventure”

Hood laughed heartily. Smile radiating. “Yes, who doesn't. I remember when I was a child I used to read books about… heroes…” Hood lies still. Blood dripping to the ground. Eyes empty of life. 

Hood's body heats up. A bright glow as he disintegrates in white specks leaving Hood’s clothes and equipment behind. Drac looks around dazed at the lights dancing around him. Then all of them fuse into him. The pain is excruciating. Like a hot rod poking every part of his body. Then it ends a moment later. Drac looks at his body. It feels unfamiliar. Movement is more snappy and responsive. Legs fit less in the breeches. Forearms look much more toned. Drac looks at Hood Clothes and weapons. Hood’s Short sword, although bloody, shines as it lays on the ground. 

Go on then. And I know you want to test it.

#writing #webnovel #fantasy #powers

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

dancing on dreams, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, (very) minor jungkook x reader

summary: The wrong guy shows up in your car – Jeon Jungkook. Big sigh. He’s drunk out of his mind and blabbering away. Then the right guy who you’re supposed to pick up, Min Yoongi, says Jungkook’s apartment is on the way. Might as well drop off passed-out Jungkook and make sure he’s okay. Or Yoongi could fuck you on Jungkook’s bed. That also works.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; alcohol consumption; smut (fem reader, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluff; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi; you two fuck slightly on top of and next to sleeping Jungkook, tsk tsk; technically JK is in his red My Time outfit lol

repost, originally called ‘a–dick–ted’  and then I realized tumblr doesn’t like that lmao

--

now playing – don’t threaten me with a good time by panic! at the disco

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am.”

That’s what Jeon Jungkook slurred to you as he flopped into your passenger’s seat, the stench of alcohol so strong you recoiled. He was wearing a thin red blazer and his sheer black shirt was missing half the top buttons, revealing his tan, muscular pecs.

Also, he wasn’t supposed to be in your car.

“Get out.”

Jungkook hiccupped and squinted at you. “Noona! What’s up? I didn’t expect to see you here,” he continued, completely ignoring your annoyed look. “I thought you didn’t party.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s because I don’t. I’m picking someone up. Get out of my car.”

He shot two finger guns at you. “Eyy, that could be me.”

“It most certainly is not you, Jeon Jungkook. Now yeet yourself out of my car, please.”

He spread his legs, red slacks way too tight for him and his thick thighs and calves. He was wearing patent black leather oxfords as well. The only reason Jungkook bothered to look this good was to get attention. You sighed loudly. You shouldn’t have left your doors unlocked. You had been waiting outside the party house for only ten minutes. Lights and laughter boomed from the home, livening the late night. Too many drunk people were making out on the porch. It was a fucking mess. A minute ago, you were alone, playing on your phone, only to hear the door click and to see the wrong person saunter into your car.

Jungkook slapped his thighs and you flinched, looking away.

“Hey, I thought we were cool,” he grinned, tilting his head. His long black hair was half-tied back, curly from sweat. “I only tried to kiss you that one time.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, you tried to put your hands down my pants, you manwhore.”

Jungkook made a disgusted face. “Whoa, hey, no, no. I’m not a manwhore.”

Your eyebrows rose so high you thought they left your face.

“Your harem says otherwise.”

You pointed outside your car. Seven girls were clinging to the railing, staring at Jungkook in your car. Jungkook turned his head and grinned, waving. Then he abruptly shook it, turning back to you.

You gave him a deadpan stare.

He struggled to complete a full sentence. “What I’m saying is…” Five full seconds of Jungkook trying to conjure five brain cells and failing. “Yeah, okay, I kiss people and touch and stuff…” You were ready to punch him out of your car. “But I’m a…” Hiccup. He looked slightly green.

Then he opened your car door and stuck his head out, vomiting.

“Ugh, gross,” you frowned, repulsed. You looked around your car and found a half-full water bottle in your cup holder. Jungkook turned around and you shoved it into his face, shooing him.

“Rinse out your mouth before you speak to me again, animal.”

Jungkook stared at the water bottle and took it, grimacing. Then he unscrewed the cap, placed it to his lips, and took a big gulp, sloshing it in his mouth before gargling and spitting onto the grass. You looked away, shaking your head.

Ew.

Not to mention he just indirectly kissed you.

Double ew.

You heard him do it again and then noisily drink the rest, crushing the plastic with suction. You turned back to see Jungkook shoot the crumpled plastic bottle out your car.

“What the fuck? Why did you litter?” you scowled.

Jungkook looked out the window, surprised. “Oh. You’re right. Sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Jungkook’s harem rush to the fallen water bottle, claiming it triumphantly like crows to a shiny bit of aluminum foil. Okay, well… at least it wasn’t litter.

He cleared his throat, pointing at you. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m not a–”

“Dirty little fuckboy?”

His head jerked back, dark brown eyes narrowing at you.

“How do you read my mind?” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, I’m a virgin.”

You blinked at him and his half-open shirt.

“What?”

Jungkook grinned at you and gave you two thumbs up. “Eyyy.”

Your jaw dropped, but before you could say anything else, you heard a sharp tapping at the driver’s seat window. Two pointed, dark brown eyes squinted at you, frowning. Oh. The person you were actually supposed to pick up. His upper lip upturned a bit, giving him a kitten-like pout.

“Why is there vomit on the passenger’s side and why is Jeon Jungkook passed out next to you?”

You started your car and rolled your window down, grimacing at Min Yoongi. He was wearing a black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. Ah, his hair was black again. You always told him he looked best in black hair. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I left my doors unlocked for you and he just waltzed in.”

Yoongi looked past you. “He looks dead.”

You snapped your head back. “He was awake a sec–”

Jungkook was asleep, mouth open, half-slid down the passenger’s seat. Absolutely gone.

You heard Yoongi open the backseat door and slide in. He smelled like whiskey and his pale face was a bit pink, but he didn’t seem as drunk as Jungkook.

“Well, he lives in my building, so I guess we’ll just take him home,” Yoongi said absentmindedly.

You shot him a pained look. “Yoongi, why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s the moral thing to do?”

You groaned and began to drive.

-

“You have to help me carry him.”

“I most certainly will not. He’s your friend.”

“You will.”

Five minutes later, you and Min Yoongi were dragging Jeon Jungkook’s dead weight up three flights of stairs, absolutely hating life, and wondering why you decided to wear your heeled black ankle boots today. Sure, they weren’t insanely high, but they weren’t the right shoes for the job. Plus, your flared red miniskirt and gray cropped long-sleeve weren’t helping either. Your shirt had a cat graphic on it that said, “go away,” with two middle fingers.

You felt it described you very well, actually.

Finally, after having made it to the metal door of Jungkook’s apartment, Yoongi crammed his hand into Jungkook’s tight pants’ pockets, feeling around.

“Key’s on your side.”

“I’m not touching him any more than necessary.”

Jungkook raised his head for a half-second, eyes barely open.

“Where’d the party go?” he mumbled and then dropped his head into your shoulder. His chiseled jaw cut into your flesh, alcohol-stained breath against your cheek.

“Save me from this hell, Yoongi.”

Yoongi chuckled deeply and reached around Jungkook’s waist. The back of his hand brushed against your hip and you flinched, eyes flickering to him. His pink lips curved into a crafty smirk. You rolled your eyes and waited as Yoongi yanked Jungkook’s keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door.

“Come on, Jungkook, step please,” Yoongi murmured softly, nudging Jungkook’s legs with his own. Jungkook groaned, head lolling.

“He’s dead,” you muttered as the two of you lugged him into the apartment. “Let’s leave and let the Grim Reaper find him.”

Yoongi ignored your complaining. He lowered himself, throwing Jungkook’s full weight on you. You grunted, extremely disgruntled, as you fell against the wall, using it as support. You had to hold Jungkook’s upper arms to keep him upright, squeezing his hard biceps. His hips hit you in the lower stomach. Ow. Yoongi closed the door and locked it, meandering on where to put the keys, settling on the hook next to the door.

“I’m going to be crushed to death. Is this guy made out of rocks or something?”

Yoongi continued to ignore you, crouching down to remove Jungkook’s shoes. You sighed loudly, staring up at the ceiling. If Jungkook wasn’t Yoongi’s friend, you probably would have pushed him into his own vomit and let the she-wolves have him.

Alright, no, you wouldn’t have, but you weren’t happy about these current events either.

You jumped as you felt Yoongi’s large hand encircle your left calf. You jerked your head down to see him staring up at you, raising an eyebrow. His fingertips kneaded your bare skin slowly. You narrowed your eyes at him and he reached for the zipper of your black boot, sliding it down. One first and then the other, hand holding your calf the entire time. Then Yoongi stood up, dark brown eyes observing you with a spark of amusement. You thinned your mouth into a line and abruptly kicked your shoes off in his direction. Yoongi dodged you easily, smirking.

Jungkook shivered and slumped, his shoulder blades hitting your sternum.

“Motherfuc–”

Yoongi laughed, pink gums flashing, and grabbed Jungkook by the armpit, hauling him up.

“Let’s get him to the bed.”

“I’m ready to chuck him to the floor,” you hissed, rubbing your chest ruefully.

Using the last of your patience, Yoongi and you managed to dump Jungkook onto his bed. Thankfully Jungkook’s apartment was tiny and somewhat clean, so you didn’t have to go very far. You sat on the edge of the bed, panting, as Yoongi calmly removed Jungkook’s blazer and tossed it aside. He gently slapped Jungkook’s face, and Jungkook made a noise like a dying duck.

“Hm, he’s pretty far gone.”

“No shit, you think?” You prodded the soft navy sheets of Jungkook’s bed. They were pretty nice. Maybe you could find the tag and write down the brand later.

Yoongi adjusted the taller man so he was on his side. He looked down at him, pursing his lips.

“We should stay for a bit. Make sure he doesn’t choke.”

You groaned, slapping the bed impatiently. “Who cares, Yoongi? He did this to himself!”

Yoongi smiled, walking around the bed towards you. Jungkook started to snore. Very loudly. His dark hair was curled around his forehead, his long lashes fluttering.

“See? He’s not dead.”

You stiffened as you felt Yoongi stand in front of you, his hand tracing your cheek to turn your head to face him. Your eyes shifted from Jungkook’s sleeping form to Yoongi’s sly smirk. His slightly rounded cheeks were still tinted pink.

“Shh, don’t complain. I’m here with you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You owe me.”

He leaned down, eyes shimmering with amusement. “That I do.”

And then he kissed you, inhaling your scent and tasting like whiskey. You sighed softly into his mouth, licking his soft lips and pressing back against him. You forgot how it started, really. Perhaps a passing touch? An accidental brush of his fingers against yours? His knee leaning against your thigh for a little too long? Your hand holding onto his shoulder to grab something, maybe a little too tightly? Soon it had become a game of cat and mouse, sneaking hints of each other in innocent public gatherings. Your clothed breasts pressing against his back, trying to squeeze past. His hand brushing against your hip, fingertips tracing the waistband of your pants.

It didn’t really have a name. You two just did it, relying on eye contact, seeing the reaction of the other, spurred on by more and more dangerous actions, upping the ante. Shorter and shorter skirts, his fingers touching your bare thigh, making you shiver.

Yoongi placed a hand on your thigh now, sliding it up. You slapped yours over it, drawing back a little from his intense kiss.

“We’re on Jungkook’s bed,” you breathed, cocking your head towards the sleeping male.

Jungkook snorted in his sleep.

Yoongi grinned. “So?” His dark eyes dangerous, so dangerous. “Bet you still want it.”

He pulled his hand out from under you and put them on your knees, eyes locked with yours. You gave him a warning glare but he spread your legs, lifting your knees up and back. You fell onto your elbows, gasping as he tilted his head, licking his lips as he viewed the wet spot of your red silk panties.

“You wore the nice ones today,” he observed. “Excited to see me?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Maybe I just like being pretty for myself.”

Yoongi smirked, getting onto the bed, crawling over you. “You’re already pretty. You don’t need clothes for that.”

Your felt your ears burn at the compliment. You reached up to pull his head down so he could kiss you again, hungry, deep kisses as he lifted your hips, pressing the wet spot on his bare thigh where a massive hole had been ripped in his jeans. You moaned softly, feeling him grind into your soaking pussy.

“I love those jeans,” you whispered, grinning.

Yoongi chuckled. “Me too.”

Snoring Jungkook rolled over and his leg smacked against your elbow.

Yoongi reached down and eased your panties to one side, pressing his thigh against your bare slit. You whimpered quietly, rocking your hips into his leg, stimulating your clit. He continued to kiss you, light, feathery kisses, playing with your tongue and lips, gently nipping at your skin.

“Don’t you feel nice?” Yoongi purred. “Doing something wrong?”

You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “Isn’t that what we always do?”

Yoongi kissed down your neck, humming. Your elbow rubbed against Jungkook’s leg as Yoongi began to suck on your flesh, making your back arch. His tongue licked at your hot skin and he blew on it, sending shivers down your spine. He slid down, removing his leg, and replaced it with his hand, pressing it into your wet heat. You gasped, sliding down, arm pressed against Jungkook’s muscular thigh and calf.

“I love the sounds you make,” Yoongi whispered, breath tickling your skin. “Music to my ears.”

He slid a finger into you.

“A-ah, Yoongi…” You clutched the sheets, catching a bit of Jungkook’s pants in your grip.

He thrust it in and out of you, slow, pushing your shirt and bra up. Licking your nipples lightly, watching you tilt your head back, eyes closed. He inserted another into your tight, wet hole, feeling you clench around them, sucking him in.

“So sexy,” he mumbled around your nipple, pushing it with his tongue. “So fuckable.”

You gasped as he increased the pace, simultaneously sucking on your nipple. The wrongness of it all made it even better, pleasure mounting fast as you felt your stomach tighten, so close, Yoongi knowing all the best spots to melt you. You breathed his name, pussy tightening as you came, soaking his fingers with your slick juices, humping his hand slightly.

He thrust into you a few more times, slowly, before sliding out and placing them in his mouth, sucking off your taste. He smirked.

“Turn over.”

You exhaled before trying to roll to your right. Yoongi stopped you.

“Other way.”

You frowned. “Jungkook’s there.”

Yoongi grinned mischievously.

“Yoongi…”

He licked his lips, purring your name. So sweet, so enticing.

You let out a puff of air and lifted yourself to your elbows. You turned your head, seeing Jungkook’s head flopped to the side, mouth open. The sharp line of his jaw, his pouty pink lips, his closed eyes. Still very not elegantly snoring away, and yet you noticed the way his dark hair curled around his forehead, his tiny ponytail mussed from being asleep.

“He likes you, you know,” Yoongi said.

You snorted. “He’s upset I’m not trying to make out with him so he’s trying to touch my lady bits.”

“Same thing.”

You turned your head back, seeing Yoongi shrug out of his bomber jacket. “Did you know he’s a virgin?”

Yoongi’s dark eyebrows raised. “Oh? Interesting.”

You shrugged. “Well, that’s what he said in my car anyway. I don’t know if it’s true.”

Yoongi chuckled. “It probably is. Jungkook’s sappy like that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Needs to be the love of his life and stuff.”

You tilted your head at him. “And you?”

Yoongi smiled at you. “I don’t need that. I only need you.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Hah, right.”

Yoongi leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You think I’m lying, but you know it’s true. I always have the most fun with you.”

You scrunched your face and felt Yoongi grab your shirt, yanking it and your bra over your head. You puffed your cheeks at his insistence, but Yoongi grabbed your breasts, rubbing his thumbs onto your hardened nipples. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him back, tongue against tongue, drinking him in. He nudged you to your left.

“Come on…”

You sighed against his lips. “Alright, alright, you bad boy.”

He smirked as you rolled over, careful not to touch Jungkook’s thighs and placing your hands on either side of his hips. Your knees ended up in between his, tightly together. Jungkook’s sheer shirt had eased out of his waist, abs peeking out from the bottom. You swallowed, feeling Yoongi moving behind you, grasping your panties and pulling down.

“You shouldn’t try to fu–”

Your words turned into a gasp as Yoongi’s tongue swiped up your dripping pussy, licking it all up. Your arms trembled, cries dying in your throat as you stared at asleep Jungkook, trying not to make any sound. Yoongi began to noisily eat you out, shoving his tongue inside you and scooping out your juices, his hands spreading your ass. Your shoulders dipped, hands spreading outwards. He slid down a little, finding your sensitive bundle of nerves and licking at it roughly.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you hissed, arching your back. His tongue was too good, so good you almost forgot you were positioned above dozing Jungkook’s dick and abs. Jungkook sighed, turning his head the other way and resuming his snoring. If Yoongi’s tongue wasn’t going to make you pass out, then you were definitely going to get a heart attack if Jungkook woke up in the middle of this.

Yoongi’s mouth latched around your clit and he sucked, hard. Your shaking hips rolled into his face, raspy breaths rattling your chest as you struggled to stay silent, feeling your pussy leaking onto his cheeks, so wet you could hear it behind you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, sliding down, nipples brushing against Jungkook’s clothed thighs. “Fuck, Yoongi, I’m so fucking close…”

If Jungkook woke up now, you wouldn’t have noticed because pleasure raced up your nerves, intoxicating you, Yoongi’s expert tongue licking and sucking on your clit, so wet and wonderful and tight it was taking over you. Your hand lost balance and your righted yourself, planting it onto Jungkook’s abs. The contours of his muscle molded to your palm as your hand slid up, low moan leaving your lips as you came again, Yoongi opening his mouth and sucking it out of you. Your body shuddered, fucking his face as your rode out your orgasm, nails curling onto Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook moaned in his sleep, breathy and deep.

The sound brought you back to reality and you jerked your hand away, startled at you were touching him. Yoongi lapped at your pussy leisurely before straightening. You turned your head to see his very self-satisfied expression.

“Looks like dream Jungkook liked that,” Yoongi smirked.

You shook your fist at him. “I touched him!” you whispered angrily.

Yoongi looked unbothered. “A tragedy.”

You pushed yourself off the bed and stepped towards him, legs tangled in your panties. You irritably kicked them off before poking Yoongi in the chest. Now you were only in your red skirt.

“What was that for, huh?” you whispered heatedly.

Yoongi grinned. “Fun.”

He took you by the waist and pulled you to him, kissing you deeply. Now you could taste yourself and the whiskey, sweet and bitter, mixed with Yoongi’s lust as he led you with him. He pushed you back onto the bed, kissing you eagerly, smiling, making you smile too because Yoongi was so much fun, so naughty, and you would never know it from his usual bored expression when he was out in public.

Yoongi undid his jeans as you reached into his back pocket for his wallet, squeezing his ass as you did so. You took the condom out, still kissing him, still licking his lips, unwrapping it. He pushed his clothes down, freeing his cock and you rolled the condom down, moaning as your felt his hard length in your hands.

“Right here?” you murmured against his lips.

“Fuck yes,” Yoongi drawled. “Right next to your favorite drunkard, Jeon Jungkook.”

You laughed. “Alright, he’s annoying, but he’s not a drunkard.”

Yoongi thrust into you and you whined in pleasure, raising your hips to meet him. A playful smirk danced on his lips as he began to roll his hips into you.

“He’s not, but he is today and so I’m going to take advantage of it,” he panted, fucking you nice and slow and perfect, making sure to stretch you out, filling every part of you with his cock.

“Ah, Yoongi, you’re so good,” you gasped, tightening around him, heightening the pleasure. “Such a nice dick.”

He grinned wickedly. “Excuse me, I think you mean the best dick you’ve ever had.”

You smiled back, meeting his hips, slapping them together and making a deliciously sloppy wet smack. “You’re right, the best dick I’ve ever had.”

Jungkook rolled over a bit, exhaling serenely.

Yoongi dipped his head against your ear, moaning softly as he increased the pace, fucking you hard into Jungkook’s bed. “Think he can hear us?”

You chuckled. “You want him to hear us.”

“No,” Yoongi replied, far too mischievously to mean it. “But maybe he should, because your pussy sounds sexy as fuck.”

You sucked in a breath as Yoongi pounded you, falling back a little so your tits bounced. Yoongi’s dark eyes flickered down to you, sparkling with appreciation as you bit your lip, flicking and pulling on your nipples lightly, heightening the pleasure.

“I’m close,” he groaned. “Squeeze me harder.”

You did, tightening your core and he threw his head back, moaning silently as his hips slammed into yours, once, twice, and he came, loud smack of your hips meeting and his cock throbbing into your walls, spurting his cum into the condom and making it swell inside you. You exhaled hotly upwards, tipping your head back, Yoongi’s name drifting out of your lips in bliss.

He just felt so good.

It might not have a name, but it didn’t need one, because Yoongi’s eyes found yours and there was only ecstasy, perfect, lovely, wicked ecstasy of the mighty who had already fallen.

-

Jungkook woke up immensely groggily, head pounding, his sense of space and time completely and utterly fucked.

But he wasn’t dead, so… yay?

He frowned and rolled over. He was in a soft place. A bed. He breathed in deep. His bed. Nice. But he smelled something else. Jungkook squinted. He could see someone. He touched his chest, finding his shirt still on, barely. He still had his pants on. Oh, good. He didn’t accidentally lose his virginity in a drunken stupor.

He recognized that large pale hand. Jungkook frowned again, squinting harder. Yoongi-hyung? But the hand was over a pair of soft breasts, squeezing them together.

“N-noona?” Jungkook croaked.

You reached over and placed a hand over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Jungkook. You need to sleep.”

That’s true. Jungkook did need to sleep. This was probably just a dream anyway. No way Yoongi-hyung and noona were naked in his bed, tangled in his blankets. That would be nuts. Totally crazy. Jungkook drifted back into slumber, softly snoozing away.

-

second act. dreaming in reality a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

extended playlist where did the party go by fall out boy the mighty fall by fall out boy

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you

[thelittlepoetprincess]

ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴᴏᴜꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ [Dabi x Reader]

Author's Note: I personally am not a fan of Lizard king here but go off. This took a long ass time to write not to mention proofread and edit. No idea if I'm making another part to this. Also, a lot of this is therapy wagon material. If you want to be tagged in these just say so.

Warnings: Fluff for a bit, Implied depression, mild spoilers, light mental manipulation, degrading, power play, oral sex(F receiving), hate sex, death mentions, arson, and physical abuse.

Summary: You chose your job over Dabi, and then severely regret it once he survives.

The numbness of grief was overwhelming, even more so when the one you were grieving was your lover. You settled onto the sofa, watching the news drone on about the recent death of Villian Dabi, confirmed now to be Touya Todoroki. You'd turn off the TV and lie on your back, not needing the extraneous details of his death. After all, you killed him.

The memory of it haunted you like ghosts dancing in your memories: the heated warmth of his palms that threatened to burn you but never did, the way he always wore worn down leather or rough worn down jackets, everything about him attracted you and only made his death hit you harder.

You were a lesser-known hero with a restoration quirk, able to numb large areas and heal minor wounds while still using it in large quantities. You'd met Dabi while out on a mission to recover a kidnapped hero, and you couldn't keep your hands off his wounds. Not like he'd let you after he felt your gentle touch ease his pain for once.

Six months, it only took six months for the bad boy to entangle himself into your life. He snuck into your old apartment all the time, made you comfortable, and he'd break down in front of you. He was a surprisingly affectionate lover, despite his many flaws. You'd feel something in your throw blanket, shaking it loose to find the leather jacket he always wore.

The navy blue leather faded slightly and burnt in specific areas where he couldn't control his flames.

You felt the fresh hot tears welling up behind your eyes as you clutched the jacket to your chest. It was much larger than you since Dabi was slightly taller, so your face nuzzled into where his neck would be. It still smelled of cigarettes and burnt flesh, the scent you grew to love so much.

You took a deep inhale, the tears starting to flow as you replayed your shared memories, unable to help the grief overwhelming you. Suddenly, you had no energy nor will to do anything except sleep, even moving was deemed too much to handle. The scent of your boyfriend lulled you to sleep, though it'd be one of the last times it'd do so.

Dabi wrapped his hands around your waist before hoisting you high in the air while the wind blew at your hair in the flowy white lace dress you wore. The undetailed field of wildflowers went on far beyond your sight as he twirled you around before falling on his back with you. You'd both be laughing in the hazy daze of love before sharing a loving kiss as the gentle grass blades tickled your skin.

You felt a leathery hand touch the skin of your cheek, the thick smell of cigarette smoke tickling your nose and making you sneeze before you gently smacked away the hand. You hear a deep, raspy chuckle before the person mysteriously pulls the coat on you like a blanket.

"Little hero, do you love me?" You'd mumble a yes subconsciously, something saddeningly familiar about whoever it was looming over your sleeping form. "Ha, cute. . ." You heard something about leaving and the door shut with a click, leaving you to sleep once again.

Your peaceful sleep is dreadfully short as your friends came in, yanking you from the grasp of sleep with their tumultuous noise.

You quickly hid the jacket, sleepily rubbing at your eyes as they opened your curtains and turned on the TV. It droned on about the agency you worked at and fire. However, you didn't have the energy nor will to care since you planned on quitting anyway.

They droned on about how you'd slept for two days straight and needed to get out, and you agreed. Maybe it would take your mind off of Dabi and the arsenic incident, also the five missed calls from your agency from two days ago. You'd shower and change, pulling your hair back out of your face for the first time for days.

The curls were dry against your fingers so you oiled your hands and massaged them into the brown mass you called hair, plucking it out to its full shape. You pulled on the black and blue dress, noticing how the dress hugged your hips a bit then flowed out to your mid-thigh. Perhaps you've gained a bit of weight these past 2 months.

Tired bags were under your eyes from sleeping for so long. After some light makeup, you left with them to the carnival. 

Lights illuminated the dark navy blue sky as you got dragged about, the fun temporarily blinding you from the sadness overwhelming you. They led you into the Maze of Mirrors, their bodies contorting and bending around you confusedly while you searched for them until they disappeared. Their goofy laughter faded into an eerie silence with only your echoing footsteps left to fill the silence. You froze as you smelled a familiar scent: burnt flesh and cigarette smoke.

His chuckles were all around you as you saw the flashes of black and navy blue in the mirrors before he was suddenly standing in front of you.

He was pissed, you knew that snarky glare anywhere. It made you nervous as he closed the distance between the two of you without speaking a word until he backed you against the cold glass. He gently pressed himself against you, giving you no real way to escape him with his arms on both sides of your head. "Dabi-" "Shh, I don't wanna hear it. At least not here, too many people. They're already looking for me since I disappeared. We aren't safe, come on." He didn't ask as he hoisted you over his shoulders to carry you out the back exit.

He seemed gentle while he carried you, he wasn't rough at all. The heat you felt radiating from his palms as he held said otherwise as you worriedly fretted about him burning a hole in your clothes. Though you felt some relief knowing he wasn't dead: he was your love after all. You knew what was coming to you for feeding him arsenic wasn't going to be a gentle, loving reunion of star-crossed lovers. Dabi wasn't that kind of guy.

He made it back to your new apartment after knocking out the security guard at the gate and threw you onto the bed. He'd seemed to get angrier as he got closer to your apartment. Your hair messily fell around your face to make a curly halo around it. He was on top of you before you could attempt to sit up, his warm breath huffing down the side of your neck.

"Now what the fuck were you thinking, huh? An arsenic cupcake? You really wanna get rid of me that badly you snake." He seethed, and you felt the familiar feeling of your wrists being burnt by his flames. You cry out in pain, squirming under his grip with tears in your eyes.

"Oh you're crying, now you're crying. How do you think I felt getting sick and finding out my girlfriend poisoned me?" He'd growl out, as you stopped squirming and sucked it up. He was right, you deserved this. You tried to kill him, and all he'd done was be beside you and attempt to be somewhat of a lover to you. You looked up to him, his blue eyes lacking any gentleness or affection. It was hate, resentment, and importantly: lust.

That's when it hit you that you were a stress reliever for him. Everything that he kept pent up he always let it out on you, and for about a month now he hasn't had it. You'd reach out, gently tracing your fingers along his scars using your quirk to calm him and watch his eyes soften as he quite literally melted under your touch. He'd land on top of you, caging you underneath him with his arms, he exhaled a strained snarl before snatching your hands from his skin.

You couldn't help wincing once you felt the familiar burning sensation of Dabi's quirk in action yet again as the blue flames licked against your skin, at least it wasn't a third-degree this time.

"It was you, wasn't it? My agency, they called then it went up in flames." He didn't answer but you knew the answer by the way he buried into the side of your neck. He always did that when you accused him and he was guilty. You'd chuckle to yourself but yelp when you felt his teeth against the soft skin of your neck, suckling your skin.

You'd squirm as a familiar heat settled itself in the pit of your stomach. He huffed as he finally moved away from the purple bruise he left on your skin. His lips trailed down until he reached your exposed collarbone, chuckling before tracing his hands against your caramel skin sending chills down your spine. He'd kiss, lovingly at that, along the caramel curve of your breasts.

He'd yank you to the edge of the bed, moving between your legs with a focused look in his glimmering eyes. "Dabi, are you mad at me?" He'd chuckle before you'd feel a burn against your thighs while sinking his teeth into the soft plushness of your inner thigh. "Oh darling, I'm fucking furious." The sweet name rolled off his tongue, making you quiver when paired with his teasing licks over your soaked panties.

He paid no attention to your face, his main focus being on the slickness accumulating from your dripping hole. His hands traced up over the stretch marks gently decorating your skin so beautifully before burning off the panties, his tongue grazing the soaked slit before sliding his tongue up to your neglected clit. His mouth was warm and wet against your sensitive bud, making it grow under his expert tongue his suckling sent waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body, and core. The entire room felt hot, and it wasn't helping wherever his hands traced left heated burn trails. You'd run your fingers into hair, yanking it to where his tongue pressed against your hole. "Dabi, please I want it. . ."

"Shut it, I'm still pissed at you." He'd yank your arms away again, pressing his tongue into your hole. Your flavor flooded his tongue, making him lick and devour you hungrily. Your eyes rolled back, your hips subconsciously bucking against his tongue as it buried into your wet hole. Ecstasy, that's all you could describe the feeling at this moment. The waves of heat that swallowed you and threatened to keep you at this moment while your climax built up in that tight ball. You panted like a bitch in heat, your legs trembling as your fingers intertwined in his black hair. "Dabi, I'm. . . .I'm-!"

"Shut up, loud-ass slut. Come if you wanna come so bad!" 

He'd say before continuing to devour you, his tongue digging into your spot just enough to send you tottering over the edge in waves of heat. You'd throw your head back, sending your curls flying wildly behind you as you rode out your orgasm and Dabi's face. Your legs closed around his head like a vice, keeping his tongue in your hole while he drank you greedily. He moaned into your nether lips, finally able to pull away with an exasperated breath.

His lips and chin were a mess of your nectar and saliva, but a smirk was on his face now. He'd notice his jacket hidden poorly, but laugh as he moved to take it and pull it on. He'd once again hoist you over his shoulder, humming as he slid his fingers along the walls setting them ablaze. "Dabi-?! What are you doing?! My apartment!" "I let you have too much freedom last time, but don't worry. I'll make it so that I'm the only one you can lean on. Then you'll never leave again." 

He'd laugh as he carried you away, ignoring your cries and pleas while the building went up in flames along with everything you'd known up until now. His sick, twisted laughter filled your ears before you felt a hard force against your head, the inky blackness flooding your senses and knocking you out.

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi lemon #Dabi #dabi smut #dabi my hero academia #bnha #dabi x reader #dabi fluff

[bothcreativitybois]

Star Wars AU Chapter 1

Here’s the first little chunk of a Sanders Sides Star Wars AU I’ve been planning for a while now. I hope y’all like it.

Word count: 1477

TW: Violence, kinda unsympathetic Janus and Logan

No shipping, purely platonic

Taglist (please ask if you wish to be added): @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper

Droids were littered around the dimly lit atrium, the only real light coming from the blade of Virgil’s lightsaber. He panted as the demeaning figure stared at him from above. Judging. Without a single movement the figure spoke, the hood hiding his face. 

“Impressive, young Virgil.” The sith lord announced. “Your wielding continues to impress and your lightning strikes true.” Virgil retracted the energy of his lightsaber and dropped to a kneel.

“Thank you, Lord Deceit.” Virgil praised. However his master was not done.

“But your movements continue to be stiff and your focus is erratic. In a real fight this could be the end.” The lord scorned. Virgil cringed at the usual remarks. No matter how hard he worked he just could not fix these same problems.

“If I may, master?” Virgil began. Lord Deceit waved a hand to let him proceed. “I think it is because I only ever fight droids. I learned from them. They’re too predictable and my moves have gotten rehearsed.”

“What are you trying to say, young one?” The lord chastised. Virgil grit his teeth. For a long time he had been trying for an opportunity to leave the station again, even for a day, perhaps this would be his chance.

“Maybe if I had a chance for a real fight, a real opponent, I could learn.” Virgil looked up pleadingly at Lord Deceit. The sith lord stood, he put his hands behind him. He turned and took a few steps down the stairs that lead to his throne. Virgil felt isolated in the wide empty room, the large windows leading out to black void of space only amplified this.

“You wish for a chance to prove yourself?” The lord hummed. Virgil nodded. “Do you not remember what happened the last time I gave you an opportunity for just that? Do you not remember how you failed me?” Virgil bit his lip. He was well aware, the hum of the cybernetics attached to his throat served as a great reminder.

“You better not. You have already failed once.” Lord Deceit reminded. “As much as I care for you Virgil, I may not be able to give you another chance.”

“Master, you have trained me well. I have learned from that mistake and believe I have learned all I can from simulations and training droids.” Virgil pressed. It was true, he could predict their patterns. He knew that they would not harm him so he had no fear fighting them. Lord Deceit laughed, his deep voice booming like an explosion.

“You do not wish for training, you thirst for adventure. I can feel it.” The sith lord’s delight could be heard in his tone. “I remember that feeling well.” Lord Deceit thought back fondly, but kept his face stern. Virgil felt so close, he could taste it. The chance to prove himself, the chance to see what was beyond the steel walls that filled every memory. A chance to look out a window and not see the darkness of space.

“I will only do as you wish, master.” Virgil threw out as a last hope. The lord reached the last steps and strode over to his apprentice. As the light flooded under his hood Virgil could see the jagged scars littering half his face giving the appearance of scales. His yellow eyes were unreadable. Virgil stood to meet him but still had to look up to see his face.

“As fate would have it an opportunity has arisen that might just provide what you want, young Virgil.” Lord Deceit began. Virgil’s eyes lit up. “I have sensed a powerful anomaly in the force. A young child with more raw power with the force than I have ever seen. If I have felt this then it is certain the Jedi have too. We must get to this child before they do. I planned to send a squadron of droids but perhaps a one man approach would be better suited.” Virgil paused to take it in. A mission? Alone?

“I will bring the child back for you, master.” Virgil put a hand over his chest and bowed his head.

“If you manage to do such, you will no longer be my apprentice. Your training will be complete.” Lord Deceit announced. Virgil could not believe it. He would be a sith warrior.

“Thank you, master! I will not disappoint!” Virgil vowed. The sith lord turned and began to stride away.

A jedi apprentice skipped down the halls, closely followed by a jedi master. The sunlight danced off the men’s faces and made the sandstone of the walls sparkle as if they had diamonds in them. The sunny day was a great metaphor for the excitement of Padawan Patton who had just gotten news that would change his life.

“This is it! My chance to prove myself!” Apprentice Patton cheered. The stern faced master with him was not impressed.  

“Calm yourself, Patton.” Master Logan directed. “This mission is confidential. You must contain yourself.” The masters stern face was half hidden by his brown and grey beard, blending well with his brown jedi robes. “This lack of control has gotten you in trouble before. If you wish to rise to jedi knight you must learn to mitigate your impulses.” Patton stopped and tried to neaten his curly blonde hair. He was brought down by the mention of this past issue. It was not a situation he wanted to remember.

“I am sorry, master Logan.” He apologised. A jedi must be calm and impartial, but Patton always struggled to contain his emotions. Master Logan sighed and pushed open a large set of doors. Master Logan’s small library was quiet and gave them the privacy they needed to discuss the sensitive task ahead of the student. Glowing books lined the walls and reflected off the metal table in the center. Patton settled on a bench attached to a wall, he was still vibrating with excitement. Master Logan put a chip into the table in the middle of the hexagon shaped room. The lights dimmed and star charts appeared. He moved to stand in front of the student.

“We have sensed a disturbance, a powerful one.” Logan began. “We believe it has come from a young boy on a planet known as Pi’cani.” A cluster of stars was zoomed into on the star chart, another zoom revealed a small planet. “This young boy has immense connection to the force, more than we see in the most highly trained knights. His connection rivals us masters. Your job is to find this child and bring him back to us. If he is left untrained or worse, taken to the dark side, then he could be a danger to us all.” Patton rose his hand, Master Logan sighed but allowed him to ask his question.

“What if the child’s parents are reluctant to let him leave?” Patton asked, his empathy boiling up.

“We do not know the boy’s situation. You will report it to us and the council will decide the best course of action.”  Logan answered. “As this is a highly classified mission you will only be allowed contact with one Jedi member, that will be me. You also will not be allowed to use any of our resources else the mission may be in danger. You will be sent to the travel hub with some credits and a bag of supplies. With that and your lightsaber you should have everything you need to complete the assignment.” Master Logan stepped away and took the chip out of the table and the lights came up. The star chart disappeared. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Logan. I will not fail the council.” Patton promised. Master Logan let his shoulders fall a moment and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder.

“The council's eyes are on you. Many have crumbled under this pressure, don’t let that happen to you.” Master Logan soothed. This was the reason they chose Patton over any other apprentice. He was enthusiastic and cheerful, he would not be easy to break. Sith fed off negative emotions, everyone doubted if Patton had felt bad in his life. “I have full faith in you padawan. If anyone can complete this, it’s you.” Patton’s eyes sparkled from the approval. He rose to and skipped to the door.

“I’ll see you when I am a knight, master Logan.” Patton joked.

“I hope so.” Master Logan nodded. “As much as I care for you Patton, the council may not be able to give you another chance.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #ts logan #logan sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #sanders sides star wars au #roman took over

[elephantsneedwater]

I finally wrote something about my V and River. I hadn’t really planned it just allowed it to flow. I think it’s a great set up for a deeper story. Please, let me know what you think. I would love to hear any and all feedback!!

ACT 1

———————————————————————-

I clenched the steering wheel and swallowed hard. I hadn’t been back in almost two years, had to take time for myself- especially now that my time was up and passed, and I was still alive. The morning sun reflected off my cyberware decorating my fingers. It’s been months since I’ve had to use my mantis blades, and in a way I liked that. If I held the wheel any tighter I might just break it.

I couldn’t explain it, Hellman had conveyed a very painful and depressing last six months but after my body had effectively shut down and I expected myself to never wake up, my eyes opened the next morning. The recovery didn’t last as nearly as long as the sickness, but I stayed to myself- with the help of Panam, of course.

She allowed me to stay with her and the clan while I recovered, knowing I was never going to actually stay. I had already walked away from the Nomad life once, I wasn’t going to go back to it. Not when I had so much to live for in Night City.

With a flick of a finger I rolled down the window and allowed the dessert heat to flit through my ginger hair. Long wisps of hair flew around in the wind. Tucking a piece behind my ear, turning down another dirt road, I wondered if he would like how long my hair was now.

The train tracks alerted me to how close I was to my destination and I slowed my car down turning into the lightly populated area. The same woman who sold overpriced clothing stood in the beaming sun by her rack while the rest of the small town, if it could even be called that, meandered about.

My heart was pounding and I chugged at the water bottle I left on the seat next to me. Mouth suddenly dry. I came to a stop a bit away, knowing my car wouldn’t be recognized. Shutting the engine off I surveyed the trailer. Toys of all sorts, splayed across the sandy ground. His grill was nowhere in sight and I wondered why, Summer was just starting.

Leaning my forehead against the wheel I bit my bottom lip. This was a bad idea. You stopped speaking to him. Cut him out. He kept calling and then eventually you stopped hearing the ringtone you picked out for him. Why come back now? What if he’s moved on? What if he doesn’t care?

But that was a chance I had to make. I didn’t realize how much I needed him until I had stopped thinking about him. It had hit me like a ton of bricks, my heart felt heavy, head was foggy. I had thought I was getting sick again, that my time was finally up, I was so low I even wished I could speak to Johnny.

I wanted to talk to the one person who was the reason I was dying just so he could tell me what I already knew. I was lonely. Sitting back I glanced at the time on my dash.

9:34 AM.

He’s probably be back around lunch time. Always liked to cook for the kids. Rubbing my hands over my dark jeans I wiped the nervous sweat off. Flexed my feet in my worn sneakers and grabbed for my large sweater. It was his. He had given it to me one night while I was staying over. Said it was his dad’s. I didn’t want to take it- knowing the story behind his parents- but he insisted, said: “It was his favorite. You’re my favorite. It’s only right you should have it.”

His scent was light practically gone on the fabric, I closed my eyes and leaned back allowing the warm wind to list me to sleep. I could wait a few more hours.

——————

A loud unmistakable rumbling engine jolted me awake and I snapped my head to see his truck pulling up closer to his home. The door opened and I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat.

It was now or never, V.

Get out of the car.

My eyes were glued to his large retreating back, he had on a white button down and dark brown slacks. PI business must be booming, I thought. His favorite boots were still his go to, they kicked up loose sand as he walked to the front door.

The door creaked loudly as I pulled myself out of the car. I tied the sweater around my waist, adjusted the strap of my favorite shirt and walked quickly towards him.

“River.”

The moment I spoke he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, a dark brown eye widened in surprise at the sight of me and his lips parted, he was speechless.

“Nice calves.” I chuckled crossing my arms at him.

Mentally I knew that was a horrible way to say hello after so long, but it was honestly the first thing I could think of.

River just stared at me, fists clenched. His muscles strained against his shirt as if he was fighting himself to not approach me. I could see the hesitation and excitement in his face.

“Valerie?” His voice was soothing and deep, I wanted him to say my name again but as I opened my mouth the front door opened and a woman with black curly hair and an expensive dress came walking down the rickety steps, her heels unbothered by the tightly packed ground.

“River, Joss is ready.” She called to him and I noticed his shoulders tense.

Blinking for the first time since we met eyes he looked over his shoulder at the woman his voice oddly soft as he spoke.

“I’ll be right there, Lila.”

A deep dread filled my stomach and my body grew hot in a panic. Who was this? Was this why he was so dressed up?

My eyes flickered back and forth between the two and I watched Lila close the distance between them, her hand coming up to press against his back.

River’s gaze never left me and in them I could see his conflict.

“Oh, is this a new client? I thought you were staying away from the job for the next two days.” Lila’s electric blue eyes scanned over my body and I suddenly wished I dressed less casual.

I looked like a dud compared to her. A smirk appeared across my lips and I cocked my head.

“Not working? River would never,” I taunted keeping my eyes on her.

Her jaw clenched and her smile was forced, “Yes, well all his clients know he has his rehearsal dinner this week. I’m a bit surprised you’re even here.” She seethed, respectfully.

“Lila.” River said turning to her, “She’s not a client. An old friend. Tell Joss we’ll leave in ten.”

Lila nodded, glancing between the two of us before planting a kiss to his cheek before turning back to the house.

River and I stood in silence waiting for the door to click shut. It finally did, the sound lingering in the air it was deafening. He bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably as he stared at me. I knew I looked different and I knew I was the one who stopped speaking to him, but seeing her made me wish I had died and didn’t have to witness the man I loved in the arms of another. With a quickness I turned on my heel and briskly walked back to my car. My keys were biting into my palm and as I reached for my car door, felt the warm metal against my skin did he speak.

“Friday. Noon. Where we first met.”

I caught his eye and the small wistful smile across his lips before he turned around and children’s laughter filled the air as Dorian and Monique came rushing out to greet their Uncle. I ducked into the car, blasted my radio to drown out their voices and peeled away my foot heavy on the gas.

I needed a drink and I knew just the place that would serve me until I couldn’t lift my head anymore.

#cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #river ward #v x river #Female V #Valerie x River #my work

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

King

For @thatesqcrush​ Holiday B!ngo: Naughty or Nice.

Pairing: Nevada Ramirez x reader

Square: Sliver and Gold

WC: 2578

Warnings: Pure filth and smut. Rough sex and a bossy Nevada. Excuse any mistakes.

Enjoy x

“I knew Aaron was a tight ass but come on Renee- the Heights? He does know he can claim it back on Tax under team bonding right”

“Somehow I think the tax man would work out that team bonding in December is code for Christmas party and Y/N come on don’t act like, it was on the top 10 list for up and coming night clubs- And don’t speak about Aaron that way” Renee scoffed at you

“Don’t speak about him that way?” you burst out laughing “Just cause you want to get in his pants- you might be in for a chance tonight with all the cheap alcohol in a dirty night club” you stuck your tongue out at her before you both burst out laughing.  

Your taxi pulled up behind a black SUV in front of the destination night club in the Heights for your work Christmas party. You never came to this part of town often, not that you were a snob- but nothing attracted you to this area before. When you had been told about the Christmas party being in a dark and dingy night club you rolled your eyes and thought about the open bar. As you stepped out of the cab onto the curb, Renee following close behind, you pulled out your curly hair that had gotten caught in your gold large hooped earring, making your way to the bouncer to show him your id.

You and Renee made your way into the night club to find the rest of your work friends. You passed a small cloak room, you and Renee both checked in your over coats. As you waited for Renee, you adjusted the very thin straps on your sliver slip dress, running your hands over the squinted dress to flatten it on your thighs. You both walked into the main dance floor area, the beat of the music so loud you pulled a face crinkling your nose.

You hadn’t seen him, but he saw you. His eyes narrowing at you as you walked across the dance floor. The disco lights reflecting off your sliver dress almost making you look like a Christmas tree. From his balcony you could just see the tops of your breast’s and cleavage and how the dress just sat over your ass. His eyes scanned the thin straps resting on your shoulders, wondering what it would feel like running his fingers under them to pull them off you. As he watched you, he seen you turn catching a glimpse of you gold hoop earrings and he growled to himself feeling his cock twitch in his black jeans.

You walked into the private room walking around and greeting your other work mates. You worked in a pathology lab in midtown and although most of your work mates where science’s lovers or obsessed with anything pop culture they all knew how to drink- a lot. It was always a fun time when you all got together. You got a drink from the bar with Renee and started to move around the room talking with everyone, well trying. The music and base was so loud, that even being right next to someone’s ear they could hardly hear you.

You finally had enough when the base started to give you a head ache. You walked over to the bar and yelled at the bar man if he could turn down the speaker slightly,

“Sorry Ma’ma, that’s out of my control. You will have to speak to the owner”

“Where do I find them?”

“I can call to see if he can come down- give me a sec.”

You stood at the bar tapping your pointer finger on it watching the bar man on the phone. He looked over at you his eyes scanning down to your dress and then you lip read him saying yes. He hung up and walked back over to you,

“Mr Ramirez will be down in a moment, just wait here”

“Thanks”

You smelt the cigar and cheap leather before you saw the man behind the club. As Nevada walked down the small hall to the private room rounding the bar, your legs caught his eye’s first. He scanned from your black blocked heels, up to your knee caps, up your thighs to your breasts then he met your face looking down at your phone.

You had seen someone walking towards you, you looked up from your phone screen to dangerously delicious looking Latin man. Big gold chain around his neck, black shirt tucked into his black jeans. His shirt buttons undone just enough to see his under shirt and big gold chunky cross, a leather jacket over the top to complete his outfit. His face had just the right amount of facial hair and the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen.

You took in a deep breath as he stopped in front of you with his hands on his hips. His gold ring shinning on his extremely long fingers. As your eyes ran up from his fingers, up his chest to his scruffy face and then his eyes, he smirked at you, with a sparkle in them.

“You have a problem?”

“What?” you put your hand to your ear

“You have a problem?” Nevada repeated himself

“I can’t hear you” you shook your head frowning

Nevada wrapped his long fingers around your wrist pulling you into him, his lips close to your ear, your body flush with his. His breath warm on your neck,

“I said do you have a problem” His voice was husky in your ear.

You turned your face so your cheek was resting on his, your lips now at his ear,

“It’s too loud in here. Can you turn it down- It’s giving me a head ache”

“What’s the magic word?” he growled into your ear.

“Excuse me?” You pulled away from his ear frowning.

Nevada raised an eye brown curling his finger in a come here motion. You lent back in,

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please”

“Please Nevada” His breath was hot in your ear again.

“Please Nevada” you repeated back

“Good girl” Nevada pulled away for a moment nodding at the barman who picked up the phone.

Nevada looked back at you almost like the big bad wolf about to eat little red riding hood. The music started to soften and you didn’t feel like your head was going to blow off.

“Thank you” you smiled at him

“Still have the head ache?” His hands back on his hips

“Ah yeah but-“

“Come with me” he barked at you.

You caught Renee’s eye sight pointing to Nevada’s back and she gave you a slight nod as you followed him out to the main dance floor. He made his way around the edge of the dance floor to a glass stair case leading up to his balcony that had two men standing at the end of it. They both nodded at you as you followed him up the stairs.

The stairs led to a medium size landing with a few two seater black leather couches and a glass coffee table the middle of them all, a Christmas tree in the corner. Nevada walked through a white frosted glass door with a green and red wreath hanging on it. You stopped in the door frame looking in at his black and sliver metal office table with a big black leather desk chair. Another smaller table with screens showing the club and filing cabinet’s along one wall and a window along the other.

“Did I tell you to stop there? Come here” Nevada looked over his shoulder walking to open his top drawer pulling out a white box.

“You’re very bossy” you shot back.

“Do you know who you’re talking too?” he narrowed his eyes at you throwing the white box on his desk.

“Nevada Ramirez, owner of this club” you shrugged your shoulders stepping towards his desk to get two pain killers from the box he threw on the desk.

“I’ am not just the owner of this club, I’ am king of the heights” he snapped, his voice rough “Do you always follow men you don’t know into their offices?”  

“Only when they are royalty” you chuckled

Like a flash, Nevada was behind you his body pressed into yours. You let your body lean into his, your panties damping as soon as you felt his warm body on yours. His long fingers on his left hand slipping under where the straps of your dress started at your shoulder blade, brushing up your skin along the top of your shoulder to the side of your neck, running a finger along the base of your throat,

“You’re a cock tease aren’t you” Nevada’s mouth near your ear again “You go to clubs dressed like this-acting like a pequeña puta” you felt Nevada’s right hand start to slide up your thigh, the cold of his ring on your hot skin made you moan, his surprisingly soft hands making you shiver.

“I’ am no tease Mr Ramirez-I always finished what I start” You reached around behind you and cupped Nevada’s hardening cock through his jeans.

He growled into your ear and moved his fingers to grip your neck slightly, but not enough to cut your breath,

“Did I say you could touch that?” he grunted into your ear, the hand on your thigh now toying with the hem of your dress.

“You’re not telling me I can’t” Nevada’s grip tightened again slightly around your neck as he rolled his hips onto your hand “Are you sure someone of your stature can be seduced by some commoner like me”

Nevada’s chuckle was dark,

“We need to put that mouth to better use. Get on your knees Mami.” his hands were on your hips. Nevada spun you around quick, his eyes locked with yours, they were so hard and intense, his pupil's making his eyes look almost black,

"Didn't I say get on your knees" he reached down to undo his belt buckle followed by his jeans button.

"What's the magic word?" You ran your finger along his scruffy jaw. Like the flash he grabbed your wrist, you looked over at his long fingers wrapped around it and whimpered.

"Don't play with me" a smirk pulled to his face "I said, mi puta- get on your knees, me entiendes" Nevada pushed you down by your wrist till you were kneeling in front of him. You watched as he unzipped his fly pushing down his jeans, then reaching into his briefs to pull out his extremely hard member. He smirked again when he saw you licking your lips looking at it. Nevada wrapped his hand around it stroking himself, his pre-cum shinning in the dim light of the office.

"Wow" you huffed looking up at him through your eye lashes.

"Open that pretty mouth of yours and show me what else you can do it with"

You lent forward opening your mouth, resting your hands on Nevada's thighs taking him fully into your mouth. His hand came to the back of your head pushing you into him as he hit the back of your throat making you gag slightly, his other resting on your shoulder. You flattened you tongue running it up the underside of his cock, feeling the veins running along your tongue, giving the tip a roughish suck when you got to it.

"Ay Mami, just like that. You know how to suck good don't you" Nevada grunted out, his head falling forward.

As you worked on him with your tongue, you could feel how wet you were, needing to be touched. You moved one hand from his thigh to your boob, giving yourself a quick squeeze over your sliver dress before running your hand down to the hem to slip your hand into your panties.

Nevada tugged you off him by your hair a string of saliva connecting you,

"What do you think your doing?" His voice was low but rough. You removed your hand from your panties and looked up with red cheeks. Nevada tisked you and ran a finger down the side of your face, 

"Does it turn you on having my cock in your mouth?"

"Yes" you cleared your throat

"Where else do you want it?" You looked up at him with your head tilted to the side "Tell me where else ahora"

"In me. I want you to fuck me" you whimpered at your own words giving away how turned on you were.

"Get up. Bend over the desk"

You all but jumped up walking to the table bending over it. You heard plastic sounds and you turned your head to see Nevada rolling on a condom. There was no gentleness with him, it was straight to the point, you haven't even kissed.

You felt his fingers brush up both thighs lifting your dress over your hips. He hooked his fingers into the waist of your panties and pushed them down, they fell to your ankles. Nevada put his hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down so you were lying flat on his desk, your cheek resting on the cool of the table.

"Ready to finish what you started?" You felt him run his length over your opening making you moan load.

"Yes Mr Ramirez"

Nevada's head fell forward biting his lip as he slide into you snapping his hips bottoming out. He grunted and you moaned. Nevada gave you a moment to adjust to his size. One of his hands moved to your hip the other balling a fist in your hair as he started to pound into you hard and fast. Skin slapping skin filled the room, his table and everything on his rattling. Nevada tugged on your hair lifting your head up slightly,

"You feel so good mi puta, so tight. Maybe you aren't a cock tease being this tight- your going to be screaming my name soon Mami" Nevada grunted out getting breathless.

His dirty talk made you moan loud pushing your hips back into him with his thrusts. He pushed your head back down on the table, the hand from your hip finding your sensitive pearl. Rolling it between his pointer finger and thumb. Your heart was pounding in your ears, the fire in your gut about to burst through you.

"I ‘am going to come" you screamed. You pushed your hips back as he rolled your clit "Nevada" you screamed your whole body on fire as your release completely took over raging through you.

The way you gripped Nevada as you came was like he had never been before. His balls tensed when he thrusted into you so hard the desk moved slightly and he came in the condom, still moving his hips slowly till he was completely done.

He pulled out of you ridding himself of the condom and fixing himself away, while you tried to catch your breath, pulling up your panties, fixing your sliver dress, adjusting your gold earrings and flattening your hair where Nevada's hand had been.

You stood up and locked eyes with him. He walked over putting his hand on your cheek kissing you deeply his other hand squeezing your ass over your sliver dress.

"I better get back to the party" you said still breathless. You turned away from him and started to walk out the door "Merry Christmas King Ramirez"

Tags: @thatesqcrush​ @beccabarba​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @permanentlydizzy​ @detective-giggles​

#thatesqcrush holiday bingo #nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada ramirez smut

[gophergal]

HEY GOTTA 'NOTHER CHAPTER FOR YA. Thank you to @bucketofcowboys for betaing for me! Without his help, I would be pulling weird shakespeare lines outta my ass. He makes my shit sound smooth lol

I'm Not Lonely - Chapter Three

Word count:4 000+| Rating: M |  Michael Myers x OC | M/F

WARNING: Gore, Animal Death

Jean must have fallen asleep at some point while reading to Michael, the book slipping from her hands into her lap. She jolted awake at the sudden weight on her legs, her heart pounding momentarily until her eyes fell on Michael's form, watching as his head tilted inquiringly to the side. He appeared as though he still sat where he had been the night before, still watching her as she slept.

It was strange, obviously, but she couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through her from the human companionship. She was tempted to physically shake the feeling away from her limbs and mind, but restraining herself. The knowledge of why she felt so comforted by him, a man she knew by first name alone and nothing else, filled her with a mixture of shame and annoyance, though she pushed that all to the back of her mind to simmer.

With a yawn, Jean stretched, feeling her back click into place after her poor sleeping position. She stood on stiff legs, feeling the sleep flee from her system as the blood circulated throughout her body. In the kitchen, after a quick bite of breakfast, Jean looked at Michael from the other side of the table, sipping on her coffee as she considered what she had planned for the day.

She'd need to get groceries- the fridge was becoming a bit empty now that she was cooking for two so frequently. That brought another thought to mind, that she really didn't know what Michael liked to eat. Part of her wanted to say, “Fuck it, I'm the one cooking and paying the bills, so what he likes doesn't really matter,” but at the same time she didn't feel like being so harsh.

After cleaning the dishes she and Michael had left in the sink, getting dressed in errand appropriate apparel, and yelling to Michael so he'd know she left, she got in her car and drove toward Haddonfield. The grocery store was relatively quiet today. There were times that it could be a true mad house; hoards of middle aged women being impatient with the young employees of the store while their husbands stood around bored, watching their wild hellions wreck havoc.

Jean shuddered at the image, glad to be in at a slow time as the young cashier greeted her with a smile. The normalcy of this shopping trip was sobering as she placed items into the cart, her mind working slowly to remind her of what was wrong with her current life situation. Unfortunately for that rational part of her mind, she simply continued to mark things off her grocery list. She reached for a pack of Dr Pepper cans, only to bump into an arm. She drew back quickly, pulled out of her muffled thoughts, and looked at the person she bumped into.

“Oh! I'm very sorry, m'am,” the tall woman- no, she was rather young, now that Jean got a look at her, she was simply taller than Jean, who was admittedly quite short. Her fluffy blonde locks swallowed her head as a single mass, the part framing her sharp features. She must be a high school student, Jean thought.

“It's fine, please go ahead. And 'Jean' is fine. I'm not married,” she chuckled, picking a bit at her shirt sleeve.

“Nice to mean you, Jean. I'm Laurie. I... don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new in town, by chance?” The girl asked.

“No, not really. I've lived in the area for my whole life, but I live a bit out of town. Laurie, you seem familiar though.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, I can't place where I've seen you though- Wait, were you one of the people attacked on Halloween night?” Jean asked with a gasp, then immediately wished she hadn't. Laurie looked away quickly, and seemed to struggle for words momentarily and appearing on the verge of tears. “I- I'm really sorry, Laurie. That must have been horrific. Did they ever.... catch the guy?”

“No. He's still on the loose. Sheriff Brackett said he'd do everything he could, but Annie- his daughter- my friend, she-” Laurie cut herself off, not needing to say more for Jean to connect the dots, her shoulder's trembling slightly with the effort to remain composed in this public environment.

“You're a very strong young woman, Laurie. Especially to still be out and about so soon after all of that. I'm sure he'll be caught, too. That type of bastard isn't usually free for long.”

“Thank you. It's been very hard, on everyone.”

“I can imagine.

“Y'know, it may be a weird thing to offer, but if you ever need some help, or someone to talk to, here's my number. I can't say I can truly understand your specific situation, but I've had my fair share of loss, too,” she said, producing a small piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down her home phone number, then handed it to Laurie.

Laurie accepted the paper, dabbing at her eyes slightly with her sweater sleeve, “Thank you, Jean. I might have to take you up on that some time.”

“Don't hesitate, I'd be happy to lend an ear,” Jean replied with a small, warm smile.

The women purchased their groceries and parted way. Talking to Laurie had caused the trip to take longer than intended and now the sun was creeping lower, the brightness slightly too intense to be comfortable. Jean got into her car, the paper bags of food on the passenger side, and she left. The intense, golden light highlighted the trees which were now barren of their leaves. That and the chilly air harbingers of the coming winter. Jean worried her mind with the thought that she would have to fix some of the roofing of her home before the wet snow came down and buried the world.

There would be time to do that, for now she had other things to think about, such as her new housemate. Despite, his impromptu move in almost two weeks prior, she still knew nothing about him aside from his name. She hadn't even seen his face before, she realized, causing a slight hum of anxiety to spread through her body. Something in her kept screaming at her to do something about it, but as she drove toward her home, that voice grew quiet.

There were no lights on when she arrived, and no sign of Michael as she put away the groceries. Aside from a couple empty food wrappers in the sink, which greatly irritated her, it was the same as before he first visited her. Perhaps he'd left for the night. She didn't know where he went when wasn't at her home, but frankly she wasn't his keeper and had no responsibility to keep track of him. He was a grown man, after all. She placed the case of soda on the counter and, with a yawn, piloted her weary body toward the stairs.

She instinctively skipped the creaky step, nearly losing her balance to fatigue. At the top of the stairs, she noticed that her bedroom door was slightly ajar, a sliver of moonlight beaming through the crack, a strange occurrence as her habit was to close the door at all times. She drew closer, cautious and uneasy now, and gently pushed open the door, supporting it with her body and praying that the squeaky hinge would remain silent.

The door now open, she could see a lump under the covers on her bed, poking out from the top a curly, dark mass. She let out a small gasp of breath when she noticed the white, fleshy sheet on her nightstand. Michael's mask. This was Michael who'd stolen her bed. Even at rest, there was a tension to him, eyebrows contorted and face twisted into a slight grimace. Yet, she noticed her hand drawing closer to his hair as if it were magnetic. She pulled her traitorous appendage back, foiling it's mission to tenderly push back a brown lock from his forehead.

A slight glint of reflected light caught her attention, her eye sweeping over the sleeping form to see the metal blade of a kitchen knife in his hand. He had a white-knuckle grip on it that did not waver with the haze of sleep. It chilled her. She began backing away, unwilling to take back her bed that night and unsure if she would even be able to sleep. Still, as she stepped gingerly out of the room, the couch called to her downstairs.

The next few days were uneventful. She worked, she came home, sometimes she had to take the couch. Michael didn't seem to leave at all, yet he seemed out of place in the house, having nothing change around him. Tonight would be her last night of work for the week and she was excited to have some time to rest on her day off. She sat across from Michael at the kitchen table, taking occasional glances at his masked face, imagining the man beneath. He sat like a wax figure, unmoving and unphased.

“I have to work again tonight, I can't really tell you what to do, but I'd appreciate you locking the door if you go somewhere,” she told him. While she awaited his lack of response she wondered what he even did while she was away, though she ultimately decided that ignorance was preferable to knowing something she'd regret. Besides, she had things to do before she left for work that evening. The sun was low in the sky as she put on her dusty pink uniform dress and black flats.

Michael watched her leave the house from his spot in the kitchen, waiting for the security of an empty house. Once the coast was clear he ripped the mask from his face, the latex of it clinging to his greasy brown locks in his haste to eat. He grimaced at the tugging sensation, placing his second face on the table next to him. As food was shoveled into his mouth messily like a child, he decided on what he'd do that day. It seemed a good day to snoop through his host's home because, surprisingly, he hadn't already. If he thought about how different this was from any other time he'd stalked prey for too long, it would only confuse him. At the same time, he was reminded constantly by the Shape that it would all end soon, soon enough the pleasure of killing the woman would outweigh the benefit of keeping her alive.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, putting the plate into the sink rather carelessly with a clink. The house was rather uncluttered, with few items in the cupboards and cabinets. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could tell. Still, bland as it was, it was far more welcoming than the white walls and antiseptic smells of Smith's Grove. Of that place, those were all he could remember clearly, everything else was shrouded in a drugged haze, a curtain of accusation and rough hands holding him down when the doctor ordered. A few small moments of kindness from nurses and orderlies peeked through the curtains here and there, but even those paled in comparison to how Jean was. The Shape scoffed at the idea, reminding him that if she knew the evil that everyone else had, she too would end up as another barrier between him and freedom, and such barriers were meant to be torn down.

The stairs creaked as he climbed, and the photos on the wall watched him closely. Upon closer look he saw a woman, looking much like slightly older Jean, alongside a little girl and an old man. He pulled it off the wall for a closer look. Smiling faces, a happy family, though shaped differently than his own had been. The girl looked to be the same age he'd been on that night so many years ago. He tossed the frame onto the carpeted floor after the top step, not caring for what that last thought brought to mind.

On the upper floor, more pictures were on the walls and now he noticed how few actually showed the older woman. They formed a sort of jumbled timeline, the little girl growing taller until he recognized her as Jean at various ages. A few had only her, no sign of the old man or the woman, and he took one from the wall. She was dressed nicely, her back to the glowing sunrise, making her messy blonde hair appear as a fiery golden halo. He decided that he liked it and held onto it as he kept wandering though his host's home.

The Shape became restless at some point, it's voice growing more frantic and incomprehensible with the passing minutes. Michael was tired though, the thrill of the hunt would be dampened by his lack of sleep. The Shape grew louder, demanding blood, gracing his mind with sudden images of what he could do to satisfy it. He ground his teeth, fist clenching and un-clenching as he tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. He needed rest. The Shape could wait, surely. There would be more prey, more chances. The hardest night was over, and he was unlikely to be caught while he stayed with Jean. Frustrated, he relented, giving in to the grating presence of the Shape. He stomped downstairs, muscles growing tense with each heavy breath.

The diner was relatively quiet that night, only two men were at a booth in the front. A not-quite-elderly duo of middle-aged men with greying dark hair, one taller and mustached, the other weaselly in appearance. Jean hurried to the booth to take their order, “Hey, what can I get you two gentlemen tonight?”

“I'll take a tenderloin sandwich, slice o' apple pie, a black coffee,” said the mustached man.

“Cheesecake, black coffee,” the weaselly man said. With that, Jean nodded and smiled, leaving to take the order to Gus, tuning in to their conversation as she walked away.

“Eh, you know about that one bastard that's been on the loose since Halloween?” Asked the weaselly man.

“Yeah, of course I do. I watch the news. What about it?”

“I've heard that he's twenty bodies in now.”

“The police say that?”

“No, they wouldn't and you know it. I've heard it from a few buddies.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Haddonfield's never had so many suspicious deaths, bud. It's gotta be a bit more than a coinkydink that they'd ramp up after this guy starts killin'.” Jean brought the men their orders and they quieted down on the morbid talk for a bit. The weaselly man rubbed hands together excitedly as Jean set down his cheesecake. The tall man shook his head light heartedly.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” the tall man said. Jean smiled, holding back the urge to roll her eyes at the unwanted pet name. She left to wipe down the other booth tables in the room.

“Anyway, I heard that the cops are broadening their search to the surrounding area,” said the weasel, “been some sightings of a masked man wearing a blue jumpsuit around some houses on the outskirts of town.” Jean found that the description was unsettlingly familiar.

“C'mon, that could just be some kid in a dime store mask and his dad's coveralls.”

“After halloween?”

“Yeah, y'know how kids are. Not sayin' its good, those kids might get themselves killed.”

“Isn't that what happened to that one highschool football player? Tramer, I think his name was.”

“Yeah, just like that. Police thought he was Michael Myers and he got run over. Well, on accident , of course,” The tall man said, putting air quotes around “accident” and then took a bite of his tenderloin sandwich.

“And what a damn shame it is. Poor kid had so much potential. Might as well add him to the body count.”

Jean stopped wiping the table she was standing at. She felt the blood rush from her face, her heart dropped into her stomach, and bile rose in her throat. It all was too much. Her head spun, making the connections, remaking the connections, denying the truth. Her knees felt weak.

“Woah, miss, you good? If all this murder talk is getting to you, we can stop. You look like you're about to pass out,” the mustached man asked her, voice laced with concern.

“I-” she started, swallowing hard, “I'm okay, I think my blood sugar's just low. I'll be back,” she finished, leaving quickly to go back to the kitchen where Jo and Gus chatted. Jean pushed past, throwing open the back door and pressing her back to the brick wall of the diner outside. She breathed hard, shaking hands gripping her skirt as her legs threatened to give beneath her.

Jo burst out a moment later, worried. She put her hands on Jean's shoulders, words coming out of her mouth, but not reaching Jean's ears. She shook Jo's hands off, reclaiming her composure. “I'm fine, Jo, I guess all that talk about the killer on the loose got to me,” she said. It wasn't quite a lie.

“Are you sure you'll be alright? You live alone and now I'm worried about you,” Jo asked.

“It's fine. I'm fine. I promise.”

“Okay, I'll drop it, but if you ever need anything, you know where I am.”

“I do,” Jean nodded. She wouldn't drag Jo into this. This was her own problem, and Jo might very well get hurt. She considered asking Gus to help her, he was a large guy, someone she could trust, and she was sure he would do anything to help if she asked. Then she reconsidered. She'd never be able to forgive herself if she got him hurt. No, she'd have to take care of this herself, somehow.

There was a creeping feeling on her back as the eerie twilight faded into blackness as she drove. There were no stars in the sky, yet the full moon cast it's silvery glow on the earth below, bathing the landscape in a strange dream-like contrast. It was slightly hypnotic, feeding her unease. Once she arrived at her home, she turned the knob on the front door, now aware of the lights left on in the house. She pushed open the door, breaching the barrier between her feeling of environmental disorientation and her nauseating awareness of the room before her.

A sharp scent of salt and copper was in the air, horrifically mixing with the familiar smells of the house, corrupting them in the dim light from upstairs. Before she could bring herself to flip the light switch, she surveyed the dark room, eyes falling on a dark, crumpled form at the bottom of the staircase. Pooling below it, a reflective, dark liquid that appeared black in the shadow of the heap.

She flipped the switch, eyes screwed shut. She finally found the courage to open her eyes, and regretted it. Tears pricked her eyes, a mixture of shock and disgust, as she looked at the crumpled canine body at the bottom of the stairs. The dog, once a charming golden brown, was now stained with the rust colored blood that had kept it alive. Gruesomely, its abdomen was torn open, broken ribs visible alongside the snaking internal organs.

A sound ripped itself from Jean's lips and she looked around the room. The first aid kit was strewn about on the coffee table, the couch soaked in red. Dried blood was tracked everywhere, shoe prints from the back door to the living room, dried droplets leading up the stairs, a smeared hand print on the wall. At the top of the stairs, her bedroom door was ajar. A horrible, sickening curiosity gripped her, guiding her around the discarded carcass and up the stairs.

Her heart pounded as she froze in front of the door, mind blank, her survival instincts screaming at her to run. Run far away. You are prey. You will die and then you will feed this horrible predator. She swallowed down these instincts somehow, and pushed open the door. Blood had been dripped from the threshold to her bed. Then she saw him. On her bed. Her clean, comfortable bed with the soft, white sheets. His filthy, blood-stained jumpsuit was touching her once clean, comfortable sheets. Her knees no longer quivered below her. Her prey-like instincts cowered away as something snapped within. She was fucking pissed.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing in my goddamn bed?! My home?! My FUCKING SHEETS, you bastard!” She shook, no longer in fear- no, that ship had passed along with her pure white sheets- her hands shook with the desire to express her feelings violently.

Michael jumped up almost comically as though he'd been stabbed with a straight pin. He nearly fell, then fumbled for the white latex he treated as his face, then pulled it on. The knife he slept with had clattered to the floor in his struggle, and had been kicked under the bed. He whipped himself around to look at Jean, then stalked to her. Jean held her ground. He was a mere two steps from her, the difference in height and mass between them highlighted by the closeness.

“You've got three goddamn choices. First, you could kill me. Go ahead, I fucking dare you. Second, you could leave. Go somewhere, leave me the fuck alone. Or, you could stay here, follow my rules, have a steady supply of food and somewhere to sleep. Make your choice, Michael,” she growled, glaring into shadowed eyeholes of his mask.She bared her teeth, seething as he put a massive hand, covered in dried dog blood, around her neck. He did not squeeze, simply held it there firmly as he waited for the Shape's instruction.

The instruction to snap her neck did not come. The Shape remained silent. He had expected fear. That was common- expected even- in his prey. They would run, or try to fight back. Some tried to submit, begging him not to snuff out their lives. Anger though, that was reserved for the exceptionally stupid. Yet something was beginning to make itself clear, Jean was not stupid, exceptionally or otherwise. Rage continued to flare in her slate grey eyes as Michael released her neck, an alluring red stain coiled around it. He marveled at the mark as she turned away, stomping down the stairs away from him.

Watch that one, the Shape demanded. Michael agreed to the Shape's demand. He would definitely watch her. She had his attention now.

#michael myers #slasher x oc #slashers #michael myers x oc #gopher writes #I'm Not Lonely #it has been.... 4 months

[lunam00na]

An Unlikely Affair: Chapter 2 - Down the rabbit hole..

Amélie spent the few hours she had left sorting out what little belongings she had and distributing them amongst some of the other peasants she had become familiar with from her years of working various temp jobs. The peasants were thankful, but curious as to why she was giving away all of her things. Her response was that she was going to stay in another nearby city, where some long lost family lived. Though she felt a little guilty for lying, she knew from the odd context of the letter that it was best that nobody knew where she was truly going. Not to mention the fact that the instructions stated she was to wait under some bridge in the darkness of night to catch a ride to the palace. 

Her gut quivered at the thought of being alone on these dangerous streets at night.. “Lets hope I survive long enough to actually get to the damn place..” she thought wryly. With her belongings gone, and nothing left for her to do but wait, Amélie gave a final goodbye to her small home. Coarse, wet wood brushed against her fingertips, as she placed the palm of her right hand against the shack’s door. With a sigh, she muttered under her breath, “Goodbye, you. You’ll make someone else a small refuge now.” She lingered like that for a moment, recalling a handful of good times she had spent here in the city of Grimshores. 

Her wild blonde hair was dampened from the rain; it waved back and forth in the wet breeze. She wore a brown overcoat, littered with holes that she had patched herself with whatever bits of fabric she could find. Underneath was a simple white day dress, which was more of a tan color now from the dirt and mud, than white. The clothing clung closer to her skin the longer she stood in the rain; she was skinny as a rail. 

“Okay, it’s time to go,” she rasped, her nerves getting the best of her for a second. Her head finally managed to convince her legs, and so she set off for the bridge east of town. It would take her nearly an hour to reach the bridge by foot; judging by the position of the moon in the sky, she guessed it was already past midnight. The walk gave her mind time to wander; she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the words Genny had written, than just a job opportunity. The thought crossed her mind that this was some sort of trick, perhaps she was going to meet some clever fiend under that bridge, and she would be mugged, raped and killed.. Or forced to become a prostitute for the benefit of some sick and twisted man.. 

“No. Don’t think of that,” Amélie corrected herself sternly, quickening her pace. She walked briskly down the dimly lit sidewalk. Now she was out of the slums, almost at the edge of town. The streets were all but dead, aside from the occasional homeless person sleeping on whatever dry spot they could find. Still, she found herself slipping her hand into her coat pocket, clutching a crudely fashioned knife. The letter had instructed her to bring no belongings, but she simply could not travel this far in the dark without some type of protection. She knew that if she were attacked, there was little she could do despite having this shoddy knife; but she would not go down without a fight. That was for damn sure. 

Her mind turned to the Prince.. The King. Would she meet them? Surely the King would take no interest in meeting a lowly servant such as herself. But the Prince? Maybe. Genny did mention he had come to her himself in search of help. Her cousin must have made a grand impression on the Royals. It shouldn't surprise Amélie, her cousin was quite bodacious for someone of their social standing, and she was a damn good cook. A smile played upon the corner of her lips; reminded of the trouble the two of them had gotten into during their childhood. "Hard to believe we will be together again," Amélie shook her head and snickered. 

Finally after what felt like an eternity, she made it to the bridge where she was supposed to be picked up. There was nobody here yet, or at least that she could see in this darkness. She drew closer to the bridge, inspecting the surrounding area before rounding the side and ducking underneath the wooden structure. There was nothing around but trees, and some other vegetation. A small creek ran beneath the bridge, and she was careful not to fall in, lest she wanted to catch a cold. She gripped a wooden beam with her hands, steadying herself there. The constant trickling of water made it difficult to hear if someone was approaching. By her estimate it was almost time for her ride to arrive. She waited, her eyes searching amongst the darkness for any flicker of movement. 

A few minutes passed, and suddenly the sound of hooves pounding the earth reached her ears. Amélie swallowed hard, her heart flickered anxiously beneath her breast; she felt like it was trying to break free. She put her hand over her mouth, trying to mask her heavy breaths. The rider grew closer, and finally stopped on top of the bridge above her. A moment passed, then the rider dismounted; the thud of their feet against the wooden bridge sounded loudly in her ears. Amélie cringed and grabbed hold of the knife inside her overcoat, just in case. 

Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she was afraid the rider could hear it.. She stood slowly, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, and prepared herself for what could happen next. The water was still flowing somewhat loudly under the bridge, but the rider was so close, Amélie could hear their feet brushing against the grass. Her hand clenched tighter around the handle of the knife; finally the rider appeared in front of her. 

He held a small lantern in one hand, the faint glow illuminated his features. Their eyes met, and for reasons unknown to her, Amélie's heart skipped a beat. 

"Are you Amelie Waters?" The stranger asked, his voice low and husky. She followed the movement of his lips with her eyes, she had heard him speak but was too distracted to answer. His eyes were the loveliest shade of hazel she'd ever seen, and they held such warmth behind them. She almost immediately felt at ease with this man; which gave her a sense of comfort yet concerned her at the same time. How was this stranger able to dazzle her within seconds of their first meeting? She felt like some silly teenager with a crush; her face heated in embarrassment. 

His hair was dark and curly with a messy short style. His face was handsome and he had a strong angular jawline to match. He was quite tall, having to duck under the bridge, and he would surely loom over her in his normal posture. 

"Ma'am? Are you Miss Amélie Waters? If so, we really should be going." The man repeated in his low, hushed voice. Amélie blinked once, twice, and then straightened herself. She felt utterly ridiculous that the man had to repeat himself because she was too busy oogling him. She shook her head once, breaking their gaze before speaking, "Y-yes, I am Amélie Waters. I'm sorry for not answering you sooner.. Anyway, uh right.. We should be going now." Oh God. He must think I'm an imbecile. She groaned internally, mentally giving herself a facepalm. 

The man smirked for a moment and then composed himself once more. "We can make more formal introductions later, but for now we should get going. People will be getting up for work soon and I'd rather we not be seen." He said firmly and motioned for her to come with him. "Of course," Amélie replied, following his lead up the creek bank and onto the wooden bridge. His horse was waiting there, it's coat was as black as the night itself. 

He took the reins in one hand and hoisted himself upon the beast with the other. 

"Need a hand?" He asked politely, outstretching his right arm to her. She took the offered hand silently, thinking it best not to say anything lest she make more of a fool of herself. With his help she sat in the saddle behind him, her torso pressing against his back. She felt her face flush again; hotness rushing to her cheeks, and she tried not to think about their close proximity. 

"You have to hold onto me like this," he instructed, reaching behind him and gently grasping her hands then placing them on his sides. Her heart started racing again, but she did as he said and held onto his sides tightly. The last thing she wanted was to fly from this horse. At this rate it wouldn't surprise me.

"Okay, let's go!” Her chauffeur commanded, and his horse began a gallop toward the castle. 

Amélie stifled a shriek as the horse tore off down the winding dirt road. Oh my god he’s trying to kill me. Her fingers dug into his sides and she buried her head between his shoulder blades. She couldn’t help but notice his scent; he smelled of musk and sandalwood. It pleased her that he smelled so good, because most of the peasants she had lived around didn’t have access to soaps and perfumes. It was a rare occasion that a man walked past her and she found his scent attractive. So far it seems everything about this man is attractive.. She mused, and then scolded herself for being such a tart. Am I so sex depraved that I fling myself at the first decent looking man who doesn’s smell like horse manure? She questioned herself internally with a chuckle. 

True, she had been quite some time without intimacy. It was at least 4 years since she last had sex.. There wasn’t much time to think about her next boot knocking when she was fighting to survive on the streets. 

“You hanging on alright back there, Miss Waters?” The man asked abruptly, shaking her mind from the gutter. She blushed furiously, even though she knew he couldn’t read her thoughts; thankfully. “I’m fine,” she muttered into his back, “I’ll be even better once my feet are back on the bloody ground!” He chuckled at her response; he had one of those laughs that made you want to smile. The man replied, “I’m sorry, Tuck doesn’t go slow!” Amélie scoffed, “No shit! You don’t say?” That earned her another laugh, she could feel the vibrations from his laughter in her hands. It gave her a warm feeling. She hadn’t felt so light in such a long time. 

The rest of their ride was uneventful and silent. At last they came to a slow trot in front of the castle gates. She had never actually seen the place in person; it was a sight to behold, even in the dark. They rode past the gates which automatically swung open as they approached. “Strange,” she thought, “you’d think there would be more of a security protocol in place for entering the palace grounds.” She summed it up to the guards recognizing who her chauffeur was. 

They came to a stop at a side entrance to what she guessed was the main part of the castle. The stranger dismounted his horse and offered her a hand down. “There you are, safely escorted with your feet back on the ground.” He said with a smug look on his face; his lips hinted at a smile. She smirked and couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. “I never caught your name, by the way?”

“Apologies, Miss. My name is Roman. Roman Octavius Reynolds. I am the Prince of Albanon and heir next in line to the throne.” 

Her heart stopped. 

#writing

[okayto]

Murderbot Reference: Character Descriptions Part 2

Fandom reference! I tried to note every time a person/thing got a physical description, as well as additional info like how augments work, etc. Please note that there may be spoilers for all five books, but especially Network Effect.

This post contains:

ART’s Senses

ART’s Crew

Three

Rami, Tapan and Maro

Tlacey

Tlacey’s ComfortUnit

Targets (Network Effect)

Barish-Estranza: Eletra, Ras, and Supervisor Leonide

Augments (what they are/how they work)

Other Human Personal Tech (Non-Augments)

Other Bots/Machines: Agricultural Bot, Pathfinders, NE Target Drones, MB’s Drones

Other posts: Part 1; Part 3

ART’s Senses

·         Besides cameras, sees ship through internal sensors, “which provided data (heat, density, angles of motions, etc.) that didn’t translate into images, at least not visual images useful to humans.”

·         MB guesses that gaps in ART’s memory archives might look like “a giant interruption in the constant incoming reports from subsystems like life support, navigation, etc. It was tricky, because for ART these are not like discrete reports from connected systems, but more like the sensory input I would get from the pads on the tips of my fingers.”

·         Does have cameras in many areas, cameras hidden enough that MB didn’t know they existed until ART turned them on and provided access via the feed in NE.

·         Likes Amena and talks to her more gently than MB or other humans—it’s more careful of Amena’s feelings. Has talked about human adolescents in a positive way. ART is, on a regular basis, a teaching vessel.

 ART’s Crew

·         Iris: augmented human. Dark brown skin, wearing a decorative woven bracelet when rescued in NE and a light blue longsleeved T-shirt. Small, shorter and slimmer than Ratthi, but not much bigger than Amena. Dark hair is the curly kind that puffs out a lot, but in NE pulled back and tied up in a band. Hair is long enough that she lifted it up so MB could see her back/neck when checking for an implant. Longsleeved T-shirt and pants and soft shoes are the casual version of ART’s blue crew uniform. Some bruises and scrapes at rescue. Seth’s child.

·         Seth: tall, very dark brown skin, “with less hair than most SecUnits,” a mostly-hairless head; earlier description from photograph (later context makes this likely to be Seth) says “no hair on the front half of his head.” Iris’s parent, she calls him “Dad.” Captain of Perihelion.

·         Martyn is Iris’s other parent (called “Dad); Seth’s marital partner; earlier description from photograph (later context makes this likely to be Martyn posing next to Seth) says lighter skin than Seth, with short white hair; he/him

·         Kaede is about the same size as Iris, but skin is lighter and her hair is yellow

·         Matteo is small like Iris and Kaede, and has a lot of dark hair that at rescue had come loose from braids. They/Them.

·         Turi is young like Amena. They/Them

·         Karime uses she/her

·         Tarik uses he/him

·         On variation of crew uniform (made for MB): dark blue, pants and jacket of deflective fabric, good quality (better than Station Security), with lots of sealable pockets for weapons and drones. Stability fabric boots, probably tough enough to jam a hatchway. Looks like what human security would wear. ART’s crew logo on the jacket, which also has a collar that folds down.

 Three

·         SecUnit, with projectile weapon built into arm

·         Armor flexes if it shifts its shoulders

 Rami, Tapan, and Maro

·         All wearing variations on work clothes, no uniform logos. Either Rami or Maro has an implant, but none are augmented. Part of a group marriage of 7 people, with 5 children of various sizes. MB thinks all are young—not far from adolescence.

·         Rami: tercera, “which was a gender signifier used in the group of non-corporate political entities known as the Divarti Cluster,” te/ter. Purple hair, red eyebrows, light brown skin. Wearing a jacket.

·         Tapan: female. Multicolored braids wrapped up around her head, blue jewel-toned feed interface clipped to ear, slightly darker skin than Rami. Wearing a flower-patterned t-shirt.

·         Maro: female. Very dark skin, silver-colored little puffs of hair, “almost beautiful enough to be in the entertainment media.”

 Tlacey

·         Augmented human female

 Tlacey’s ComfortUnit

·         Physical configuration doesn’t match SecUnit standard.

·         Lots of hair, silver with blue and purple on the ends, pulled back and braided like Tapan’s but in a much more complicated pattern.

·         Bare arms show no metal, and no gun ports

 Targets (Network Effect)

·         When fully affected: look like tall, thin augmented humans. Dull gray skin. Narrow human features, dark brows standing out against smooth gray skin. Colorless lips.

·         Not completely identical: one Target on ship is slightly taller and has broader shoulders than the other.

·         Targets on ships: wearing formfitting protective suits and partial helmets that initially left a lot of their faces bare. One on the B-E explorer wore “more casual human clothing:” dark green-black pants and jacket, black shirt with a collar. Shoes had heavy treads, designed for rough planetary terrain. Hair looked more normal, with reddish brown tight curls cut close to the head.

·         Targets and colonists: gray skin is a progressive condition, not natural or cosmetic effect, some still look like humans who were altered rather than aliens. Not all who still looked somewhat human were fighting on the same side. Most of fighting group wore “the kind of rough work clothing normal for colonies or mining, a cheaper, more battered version of ART’s environment suits with hoods but no breathing gear, or a mix of clean work clothes, plus a random collection of what looked like old uniforms and protective gear.”

 Barish-Estranza, Eletra, Ras, and Supervisor Leonide

·         B-E uniforms are red and brown with corporate logos

·         Eletra and Ras both wear B-E uniforms that are disheveled and torn.

·         Eletra has brown skin and dark hair that reaches at least to her shoulder blades.

·         Supervisor Leonide has “mid brown” skin “that was common to a large percentage of humans,” with an artificially smooth, even tone that indicated cosmetic enhancement. Dark hair wrapped around the top of her head and she has small metallic and gemstones set in the rim of one exposed ear.

 Augments

·         According to MB, are “supposed to help humans do things they couldn’t do otherwise, like interface with the feed more completely or store memory archives.”

·         Augments that aren’t feed interfaces are meant to correct physical injuries or illnesses.

·         Augments are meant to be helpful. Implants are different (MB compares implants to governor modules, something the person has little to no control over)

·         Normal augment would have filaments extending directly into the human nervous system. Some augmented humans may have dataports/plug-in interfaces in the back of their necks, since MB is able to pass off its dataport as one of these often.

·         Normal augmented human (augmented with feed) has interface built into brain; non-augmented humans have removable interfaces (excluding implants, which seem to be regular interfaces just not removable without surgery).

·         Augments and constructs work with “machine-readable code written into human DNA”

·         Augmented humans can work more fully in the feed; MB thinks that the drugged-up GrayCris assassins wouldn’t be possible to control with a removable interface, so the controller must be augmented (and this proves correct).

 Other Human Personal Tech

·         Un-augmented humans can’t access the feed unless their interface is working and attached properly. Tapan’s in-ear interface was taken out while ART’s MedSystem worked, and she had to put it back in before she contacted her partners.

·         “Normal external interfaces for humans were designed to look like all kinds of things, from carved natural wood to skin tones to jewels or stones or enamel art pieces to actual plain metal with a brand logo.”

·         Human voices on the feed sound like their physical voices, and can show emotions. Humans (and augmented humans) usually subvocalize when talking on the feed.

·         During killware attack in ES, Pin-Lee, Mensah and two crewmembers each has portable manual feed interfaces they used to shore up SecSystem; allowing them feed access without using their personal on-body interfaces.

·         MB says in AC that killware and malware can’t do anything to humans or augmented humans; the killware attack in ES hurts augmented humans enough that one needs rescue breathing. This could be MB’s lack of knowledge, or it could be because the ES killware is rare, essentially a disembodied bot and an extremely uncommon/unheard of tactic.

Other Bots/Machines

·         Agricultural bot: almost 10 meters (~32 feet) tall, covered with spikes. Lower body has 10 long spider limbs for moving around without crushing anything, upper part is a long curving “neck” with a long head also covered in spikes

·         Pathfinders: like drone for space. Active scanners that can zip around a planet collecting environmental information and terrain imaging, plus looking for comm signals, possible energy sources, and hostiles. Can relay audio as ART uses it to threaten Targets. Very expensive.

·         Drones used by NE Targets: model MB is unfamiliar with. Round and as big around as MB’s head, any holes for cameras or weapons hidden despite size. Made of stealth material (or pattern) that can’t be spotted by camera, but regular vision OK.

·         Drones used in ASR, pulled from the hopper: “They were the small kind, barely a centimeter across; no weapons, just cameras.”

·         Also in ASR, MB mentions that there also exist drones that aren’t much bigger than the hopper drones but include a small pulse weapon (but as far as availability through the company, you have to get an upper tier package)

·         MB’s regular drones: small enough that it can have a flock (at least a couple dozen?) land on it and not impede movement in an EVAC suit. MB mentions technique where it can have drone accelerate a drone straight at a target’s face, and if hit an eye or an ear it goes straight to the brain, so probably fairly small. They are also easy to visually overlook when perched in a room recording people, or sneaking through a doorway. They’re also easy to store in MB’s many pockets.

#Murderbot #Murderbot Diaries #Network Effect #Martha Wells #Reference

[charmed-asylum]

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 , Chapter 1

Summary: Rosary Woods used to spend her summers in Hawkins. Now years later with untimely death of her father, she sent to live with her grandparents. Coming back to a place that use to give her pleasant memories but now full with dark secrets she hopes never see daylight. Her plan was simple easy till one night she finds a drunk boy full of curls and after life never the same.

FYI: This is my 1st fanfic. I do have dyslexia so if something wrong let me know. If you like it let me know same if you don’t. #Foodie be out this week too. ** Side note I’m looking for some talent ** tag list open

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉

Tagged: @alagalaska @nottherightseason @alias-b @screensirenfic @linkispink1995 @staticscreenwriting

How the hell did all this happened. How the FUCK this happen. How did I end up alone on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere? Cold as hell with a runny nose from my tears and sharp pain of betrayal. I know now. It all started a couple of months ago. When I was tossed into this hickory town. Where one night find a stupid blue eyes boy drunk out his mind. With your stupid Mother, Mary's attitude had to help him. Now that drunk piece of shit made you fall for him to drop kick you in a small amount of a few months.

My brown eyes fill with glittery tears, tried to think back on every step that lead me here what was it? What did I do wrong? What I would do to go back to that night in October. Go back to that day I met that boy that came out of nowhere and changed my life

🍂🍂🍂

The fall air left a warm scent as I walk out the greyhound in my short denim overalls with a plain white short-sleeved shirt and black and white converses with black laces. My long midnight black wavy hair dancing with the wind with my red heart shades on, taking my around at my surroundings. Even though I have been here many times, this was the first time I came that wasn’t summer visits.

Those had an arrival and departure two way this time though was a one way. It was a lot different than home, Florida. It’s always sunny and things to do unlike here. Flipping my cassette player back on I walk over to the rusted metal benches and wait for my ride. I didn’t want to be here. However, when you have no other choice what can you do. My life stuffed in my dad's old beat-up army bag. I lend back hoping this was a dream and I wake up home with my dad not here. I didn’t hate here I just hate why I’m here. The two-day bus rides a dread and didn't help. Still, I’m stuck with nothing to do but cruise under the radar till graduation. Toss the cap in the air and by the time it's back in my hands I have another ticket to somewhere else.

I gentle tap took me out from my inner monologue into reality. An older woman in her 60s with short curly golden frost hair bright red lipstick that got bit on her front tooth in a flower print long dress. In all, she was the fifth unseen golden girl or what I know her as grams.

“‘HELLO ROSARY. You hear me call for you over there by the car” Grams shouts into my ear. Looking up at her I smile and move my bag out the way to hug her tight.

“ Sorry, the meds got me all out of it. Hi, grams it good to see you” I said holding onto the strap of my bag. She gave me a nod and kiss my cheek leaving an imprint.

“ Oh shut I forgot. Sorry, we couldn’t get your flights no airport close by. Sweetie. Grab your bag we can go home” Grams says walking and talking to the car. Tucking my shades in my pocket I follow her music still playing in my ears.

“ Where Papa at,” I asked looking out the window.

“ Oh, he at the diner checking on things. But he will be back by dinner. I sign you up for school. You start tomorrow. Your car will be ship here in two weeks so the bus to school till then” Grams said pulling up to the house. “ Look, honey. I know things have been hard the last few months but coming here can be your fresh start. So it’s up to you what you do. Stay sane try to be different better you dear” Grams said getting out of the car. Simply put it don’t fuck up this time.

“ Yes. Ma’am. I’m gonna the perfect granddaughter” I said with a eat shit grin.

“Don’t do that it’s tacky. I did not mean what I said that way sweetie. Huh lord, I need my soaps. Drop your stuff in your room” Grams said walking into the house.

My room more like a guest room. They tried though I give them that the last time I been here was years ago when I was 11. Then after that was with my dad across seas. By then the damage was done. Walls were eggshell white with a few pictures of me by dad and them that set on the wall by the window. The bed was against the wall with a small glass nightstand with a trunk in front. Probably the same one my dad had when he was my age. The small closet across the bed and an old oakwood dresser. This will do I’m sure in no time she can make it homie. I push my hand on the bed testing out the string a bit. This is my life now. Better just get used to it. Anger bubble deep in my chest as it slowly starts to hit me. This is a life I don't want. I wanted the life I had before one that was far from perfect but he was there. I toss my bag beside me with a bit of force and scream into my hands.

It took no time till I was done. I change up the pictures and some more on my dresser. A few things on the nightstand then to top it off my mint condition organized record collection in a purple crat that sat beside my dad's 1960s Gibson Hummingbird Fixed Bridge acoustic guitar.

“ So you all done. It’s not much but we go somewhere someday. Sorry, papa wasn’t here. After Benny passed away our place been the hot spot. Back to the glory days, he says” Grams said with a chuckle. I sat down beside her legs cross under me and started to flip through Good Housekeeping

“ So Benny no more. Anything else happens since I have been here last” I asked getting comfortable.

“Let's see. That Will kid you babysit a few times went miss for a week or so. Last year. And that’s about it. I don’t pay much attention to those things. Papa and I are going to bible study tonight. I know you not up to it this week. So you don’t have to go but I am looking forward to next week” Grams said. I ruffled my hand into my deep chocolate hair and nod yes.

“ I would love that. Thank you. That reminds me. I have to fill up on my pain killers. If it’s not much to ask can you please take me one day this week? Or may I go into town myself” I asked taking out my pill bottle?

Still, months later the pain reminds the same. Even the memories still were in tack as if it happened minutes ago. A tear rolled down my face just reliving it. Grams hold me tight smoothing me and rubbing my back as I let out a heavy cry. My dainty finger claw into her shoulder blade as tight as possible. I didn’t hate that I was here I just hate the why.

🌙🌙🌙

DADDY!!” I shout out. My body was soaked with a cold sweat and tears still running down my cheeks. Too weak to even move, I bend over cup my hands into my face, and scream.

Always the nightmares. Always the same two each night. Back home I would find a party or smoke or wave to ride but here. NOTHING. I promise a new me I remind myself. One that is not set to explode any second. One that took all their demons and bury it in the deepest hole. This me doesn’t let them loose but keep them hidden tight. That won’t break and burn everything she touches. This me be gentle, kind, and read the Bible instead of throwing my fist. I promise my father that even my estranged grandparents will be better.

After a good pity party, I decided to stay wasn’t gonna help me. I needed to out. I toss on some navy blue gym shorts pull down my Scooby-Doo t-shirt, which was getting a little bit smaller than last time I warn it years ago, decided for a walk.

Grams and Papa came back from church just after 11. Just missing the kids trick or treating. I stay back gave an empty smile say hello few folks who came by or heard over the rumor mill I was back. None who I really care about. The clock blink, 3:00. The cool breeze comforts me like a blanket over my shoulders. Music played close to mute. I thought about it all. If he at peace would I see him again. Could I make it to June in this town?

Far ahead of me on my way back, I saw a figure laying on the crisp grass. After the stories, Grams told me I wonder if it was anything important. As I got closer I saw an outline of a person. I stop and slow my walking this time with caution. Till I was right beside him. He was rocking back and forth humming some song no shirt tight-ass pants and hair messy with no shoes. This boy diffidently was fucking or having a good time. Part of me envies him and that freedom. Another knew it was because even if I don’t say it out loud he beautiful mess. Totally my type and that what it got tricky he was a reminder of the past I was hoping to leave behind. Flipping my hair out my face I got down to eye level and gently touch him.

“ Hey Hey you alright, “ I asked shaking him a bit.

He looks up and grins at me with a sleepy doozy grin. His eyes sparkle in the night sky and for a second I forgot he was drunk. My stomach did this thing I only ever felt a few times before. Back when I was happy. I shook my head and look around for help or at less to see if he drove or had friends. No luck. Part of me thought it be best to leave but then I saw it. Right below his eyes the old bruise and cuts. My jaw tightened till it clicks.

“ Mommy. Mommy” he said touching my face. I felt the cold touch of his ring against my lips. I tap it to the side and wrap his arm around me to get him up. Praying to God he, not a psycho, or I will regret this. He started to kiss my neck all while calling me mommy. Kinky mother fucker

“ Yeah Hot Wheels, not your mommy come on almost there,” I said helping him back home. He giggles and tried to be a handy hand reaching my hip and butt.

“ Holy shit your you are your a doll baby” he slurred into my ear.

Praying any god’s that my grandparents don’t wake up to him almost knocking everything down. I put my hand to his mouth and a finger to mine so he shut up. On the first day of this new me, I’m playing babysitting to a drunk man child. With ease, I toss him on my bed. He cuddles with one of my pillows squeezing my old grumpy carebear and drifts to sleep. I waited a second before I went and made my own special hangover shake and a bucket for the morning. Taking more time time to clean his face a bit and hand as gentle as I could. Time blink at 3:58, I sat on the floor against my dresser and watch him sleep. Wondering if a boy like that had nightmares too.

I woke up two hours later. Still on the floor face left with a carpet imprint. The boy from this morning now turns over to the other side against the wall sound asleep. I got up from my spot on wobbly legs grab some things and head to the bathroom.

As the cold water hit my face I kept thinking about before till the face of baby blue came into mine. His eyes look like way mine when I look into the mirror and it puzzles me. Never have I found someone else that had the same eyes as mine. Apart from me wonder what was behind those eyes. I shack it off as I dry my hair. If the boy's eyes look like mine then that means on things, his demons were just as bad. I change into tacky stuck in time uniform and walk back deep in thoughts when I stop. The boy was gone. I rush out of my room almost tripping over my own foot, empty. Nothing change in my room just the note. It wasn’t till I sat and smell the faint scent of cologne and cigarettes. It wasn’t a dream he was real. I laugh at myself there no way I will be seeing him again.

🍂🍂🍂

He couldn’t remember much just that her face was half cover by her loose curly hair that shines against the streetlight. The innocent big brown eyes that went with a sugar-sweet smile. Even though she was nowhere close to his mom. He couldn’t help but think about her. He never saw someone that beautiful before. Holding on to her tight sniff her in, honey and vanilla. He wanted to stare at her as long as he could but as soon as he hit the twin size bed he was out.

“Fuck am I” he hissed holding his head trying to think what happened last night. Last he remembered was making out with some blonde at the Halloween party or was it sex. His eyes look at the cup and bucket. Brown eye. He slowly picks up the note and read it:

Sleepy Head, First off we did not have sex and no I don’t know you. What I can tell you is this you were drunk and laying on someone's lawn alone. I live on Church street and Maple Lane. If it’s before 6 and your reading this back door

He laughs at the note and put it back where he found it. It was still early Neil wouldn’t be awake if he left now. He thought maybe he leave a thank you but it decided against it. He promised himself no attachment just to graduate, save up, and leave. No room for nothing else. Before he left he heard noises from the bathroom. Sound like a peaceful lullaby. Inching close he peaks in to see a figure from behind the curtain. Shaking his head he slips out and all his Mary way her black and white Adidas flip flops whistling her lullaby.

#fanfic #80s #short story #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things #st fanfic #rosary x billy #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargove x oringal character #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #angst #darce montgomery x oc #darce montgomery imagine #darce montgomery x reader #darce montgomery #nothing else matters #rosary woods oc #rosary woods

[blissfulalchemist]

OC Basics (FC5)

Tagged by @faithchel @risenlucifer @strafethesesinners @unleashedart Thank you all! Tagging: @consumedkings​ @tomexraider​ @ohfaiths​ @shellibisshe​ and anyone else that wants too! (I procrastinated on this so it made the rounds I’m sure)

name: Catlina Mariangel Rojas alias/nicknames: Mary Seed, Cat. In AUs she also has Conejito and Catnip as nicknames. gender: cis female age: 26 (c. 2018) zodiac: scorpio (I lost the image with all their rising and moon stuff so lo siento it’s not happening for these guys) abilities/talents: Cooking/baking, a sometimes unnatural amount of kindness, getting into small spaces, and fairly adept at climbing (She has to reach the top of the cabinets somehow okay) alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: Omnist, grew up Catholic sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: english, spanglish she’s better at understanding than speaking a lot of times family: Dominic Rojas (father), Gina Rojas (mother), Maya and Xandie Rojas (Sisters), Theo Munoz (Husband eventually deceased) friends: Lance Powell, Faith Seed, John Seed, Jax, Trey, and Darren, would totally be friends with the Ryes and Mary May if I wasn’t cruel and had her more cult affiliated.  sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other (Honestly depends on the amount of sun she gets) height: 5′ scars: Well okay she gets a lot of them due to her “confession” but prominet ones are the Lust on her right clavicle, the Pride across her lower ribs, and Wrath between her shoulder blades where her heart is. A few from her self injury but nothing more beyond that. features: TINY!, hair with some big curls in it, she does also have a tattoo on her inner right ankle that is the symbol for spirit from ATLA.  dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes (They are on thin ice) or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic (If only) or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “Foreigner’s God” by Hozier, “Flowers in Your Hair” by The Lumineers, “Happier” by Marshmello ft. Bastille, “Monster” from Frozen Broadway Musical, “Dance with the Devil (Aurora Version)” by Breaking Benjamin

name: Chance Jason Ruicknar alias/nicknames: Rook and White Knight (Faith Specific) other than that he does not like nicknames and will remind you. gender: cis male age: 25 (c. 2018) zodiac: scorpio abilities/talents: Science whiz more knowledge in Biology and BioChem, parkour, fishing, a decent musical screamer he kind of practiced a lot in high school not gonna lie. alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: Atheist sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: english and you could make the argument for Latin given his science knowledge, but let’s also be real in that Science is its own language. family: Mickey Ruicknar (Grandfather; Deceased), Ray Ruicknar (Father; Deceased), Andi Greene (Mother), Unknown “Sperm Donor” friends: Boomer, Nick Rye, Kim Rye, Wheaty, Faith Seed sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual(one au verse) / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic(towards the end of his story) / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other height: 5′ 10″ scars: 3in scar on the back of his neck just slightly to the left of his spine and then a bunch of other little scars from the Holy War and from his daredevil adventures before everything. features: Tattoo on right hand of the structural formula of acetylcholine. On the left hand he has the written formula of oxytocin and vasopressin on top of each other starting from just above his wrist to his knuckles. He also has another tattoo on his back between the shoulder blades of a rose in front of a crescent moon to slightly resemble the Moon Stick from Sailor Moon. Other than that a mess of curls, scruffy beard that he shaves once its too long because he can’t handle the upkeep, bags under his eyes from his inconsistent sleep schedule.    dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “Christian’s Inferno” by Green Day, “Icarus” by Bastille, “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance, “Viva La Gloria? (Little Girl)” by Green Day, “Moonlight Densetsu (Sailor Moon Theme)” but like Specifically the Star Locket version that I can only ever find on youtube.

name: Lancelot Powell alias/nicknames: Lance gender: cis male age: 49 (c. 2018) zodiac: Tarus abilities/talents: Mechanics, Wood Whittling, first aid, various weapon types,  alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: Agnostic, grew up around religion but was never anything significant in his life. sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: english family: Sage Powell (Daughter), Cat (Pseudo Child), Unnamed mother, father, and ex-wife. In an AU Wes (Pseudo Son [Sorry I don’t make the rules]) friends: Eli Palmer, Nanette (Yes she would be Nana in ND), John (He’s on thin ice though), Just plenty of people around Hope County he wasn’t the most social but friendly with everyone there for a long while. sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other: He keeps his head shaved down, but it would be greying from a dirty blonde eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (hazel) skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other height: 6′3″ scars: Wrath on his Chest, Pride along his neck on the right side, small and various scars from his time in the military, the Holy War, and just life in general. features: No hair really and no beard. Has the hilt of Excalibur on his right hand with the crests of the knights of the round table encircling his arm, left shoulder has Sage’s name along with the logos of the colleges she’s attended. Looks very angry, but honestly has one of the warmest and kindest smiles. dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “Blackbird” by The Beatles, “7 Years” by Lukas Grahams, “Dear Daughter” by Halestorm, “Wheel in the Sky” by Journey, “Rebel Yell” by Black Veil Brides

name: Lizette Eden Rojas-Seed

alias/nicknames: Liz gender: cis female age: 16 during her story (timelines are hard sometimes) zodiac: Virgo in the old zodiac, the new one she’s a Leo abilities/talents: Guitar, singing, can survive on three cups of coffee and no sleep, Managing to make the loudest outfit possible, Rallying. alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: Unsure but she sways from Atheist to Omnist sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: english, spanish (Not Fluent during her story but for sure more than her mom) family: Catlina Rojas (Mother), John Seed (Father), Trey (Uncle). In AUs her father changes and in BnD verse she gains a brother Daniel. friends: Valerie. If she was in Hope County she’d be friends with Carmina but I am unkind. sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual (the label she uses once she’s an adult) / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating (says her parents jokingly kind of)/ it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other eyes: brown(other verses) / blue / gray / green / black / other skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other height: 5′6″ (Thanks for the height John!) scars: A scar on her upper lip from the bullying of kids when she was ~6-7 years old  features: Curly Hair, dimples, bright smile, dark circles under her eyes due to very little sleep (could give some of my mutuals a run for their money), Make up is always looking like it’s from the 60′s and 70′s, just the loudest prints and colors when she can. dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “Nina Cried Power” by Hozier ft. Mavis Staples, “Disco Medley” by Selena, “Bennie and the Jets” by Elton John, “These Boots Were Made for Walking” by Nancy Sinatra, “Cleopatra” by The Lumineers

#tag games #catlina rojas oc #chance ruicknar oc #lance powell oc #lizette eden oc #This was a lot oh my god but bloodlines is also done too in its own post

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Meet Asami and Lupa Hamato!

Here are my babies, Asami and Lupa Hamato!

Top picture is Asami, and the bottom picture is Asami at 6-7 years old helping Lupa learn to walk. Included the pictures cus I wanted to give you guys an idea of how they look.

Here’s their information! 

                                              Asami Hamato.

Parent(s): 

'12: Hamato Yoshi/Splinter, Tang Shen (deceased). 

‘03: Hamato Yoshi and Tang Shen (both deceased), Master Splinter. 

Rise: Hamato Yoshi/Splinter.

Siblings: 

Hamato Leonardo 

Hamato Raphael 

Hamato Donatello 

Hamato Michelangelo

Hamato Lupa.

Age during Rise of the Turtles/Things Change/Mystic Mayhem: 20 & 1/2. 

Height: 

‘12 and ‘03: 5'4. 

Rise: 6′3.

Mask color: Silver 

Species: 

‘12 and ‘03: Mutant red wolf-siberian husky mix. 

Rise: Mutant Canadian Timberwolf.

Fur color:

‘12 and ‘03: Rusty Orange/brown/grey. 

Rise: More black and grey-brown, with black covering most of her face and her forearms and the bottom half of her legs. 

Hair: 

‘12 and ‘03: Black, slightly wavy, down to mid-shoulder blade, usually up in a ponytail or messy bun.

Rise: Dark brown, curly, down to mid-back. Usually kept in a messy bun, but she will sometimes put it in a ponytail.

Eye color: 

‘12 and ‘03: Sapphire blue(outer iris) emerald green(inner iris) with flecks of brown throughout. 

Rise: Gold/brown.

Personality: Asami loves her family more than anything in the world, prepared to fight to protect them from anything. She’s protective of her siblings, feeling motherly toward them even if she’s not much older than them. 

In the ‘12 and ‘03 universes, she does not want the position of leader, even as the eldest in her family. She knows she wouldn’t be able to send her family out to battle and make plans like Leo can, so she leaves him to it, backing him up if need be. She researches medicine to help Donnie take care of her siblings and will help Donnie with his projects since no one else seems to want to.

In the Rise universe, she feels more motherly toward them, since Splinter doesn’t seem to be too present with them at first. She gives them a listening ear when they want to talk to her, and helps them process things if they need it. She tries to help Raph lead her siblings, taking missions even more serious than Raph does, but she will kick back and enjoy hanging out with April and her siblings when she can. When their missions start to get more frequent, Asami starts looking into medicine and becomes the team medic so she can take care of her family if they get hurt. She also helps Donnie fix up some thrown out medical equipment, using part of Donnie’s lab as a kind of med-bay.

Random facts: Asami loves coffee and is cranky til she has it in the morning. She is good at tracking people, especially when working with Lupa. She heals a bit faster than normal humans, like her siblings, able to survive a more than what would kill a normal person. She can also smell pheromones.

Weapons of choice: 

‘12 and ‘03: Ninjaken, tomahawks and shurikens. And her claws, too, if need be. 

Rise: At first she used tomahawks and a ninjaken, but then she found mystic tessens and uses those. She keeps her ninjaken, though, as backup.

General description: 

‘12: Like Splinter, Asami is tall, a little wiry, and stronger than she looks. She wraps her arms and legs halfway down, making fingertip-less gloves like Splinter. She wears elbow and knee pads like the guys, a black ninja catsuit, and a charcoal grey belt with a Hamato symbol buckle Donnie made to tuck her tomahawks, shuriken, and smoke bombs in. Her ninjaken is strapped to her left thigh. If there’s no mission, she wears a t-shirt and Spandex capris. She also has a grey and teal floral Kimono with a grey obi (only for special occasions, though). 

:03: Taller than the rest of her family (Asami teases her siblings about it sometimes). Lean, but muscular. Wears a Spandex black outfit that reaches down to her knees and elbows, tucking into her elbow and knee pads. Either that, or a pair of faded, patched Bell-Bottom jeans and her Spandex top. She doesn't have a lot of clothes. 

Rise: She definitely looks the most like a wolf in this version, as she was a wolf before the mutation. She wears a black long sleeve shirt and black capris when out on missions, adding armor she and Donnie made when Donnie insists she and Lupa should have armor. If not on missions, Asami likes dressing comfortably, wearing loose t-shirts and baggy sweatpants usually, or a pair of comfy shorts.

And here’s Lupa! She’s a puppy that ended up mutated too.

How that mutation happens depends on the iteration, but anyway...

                                              Lupa Hamato

Parent(s): Splinter, or Hamato Yoshi.

Siblings: 

Hamato Asami 

Hamato Leonardo

Hamato Raphael

Hamato Donatello

Hamato Michelangelo

Age during Rise of the Turtles/Things Change: Just turned 15. 

Age during Mystic Mayhem: 13

Height: 

‘12 and ‘03: 4'9-ish, but still growing. Will be about 5′3 like Asami when she stops growing. 

Rise: 5′3 and still growing. Will be about as tall as Asami when she’s done growing.

Fur color: The same as Asami's.

Eye color: Same as Asami's.

Hair: 

‘12 and ‘03: More of a dark brown than black, slightly more wavy, too. 

Rise: Lighter brown than Asami’s hair (but not much), down to middle back. Usually held up in a high ponytail, or messy bun.

Mask color: Emerald green.

Weapon(s) of choice: 

‘12 and ‘03: Double-bladed scythe, nunchuck (one), and shurikens. She also uses her claws sometimes.

Rise: Did use a double-bladed scythe initially, but when that was destroyed she took the staff Donnie didn’t want, which can transform into any staff-based weapon (like a naginata, double-bladed scythe, long-handle hammer, etc) that can change shape as Lupa sees fit.

Personality: Playful, mischievous, and optimistic, Lupa loves to prank her siblings and chill with Mikey. They’re a duo of troublemakers, but Asami keeps them in line when need be. 

As with any Hamato, she would rather die than let any of her siblings get hurt, and hates it when they are hurt. As she started out an animal, she has a little bit more of an animal-like appearance, and is scared to death that she'll lose her reason and hurt her family, or worse. She knows when to be serious, and when she can crack jokes and pull pranks. 

Her and Asami share a close bond since they are the only wolves in the family, but she also has close bonds with all her other siblings, too. She loves Donnie’s tech even if she doesn’t understand it, she loves sparring and wrestling with Raph, pranking and watching TV with Mikey, and she admires Leo’s (and Raph’s in the Rise universe) leadership (even if she doesn’t always listen to them). She wants to be like Asami, but can’t always be serious like her sister, and that’s ok. 

Random Facts: She is better at smelling things like sweat, perfume, and other scents than Asami, but can't quite smell pheromones like her sister can. As a tracking team, they are nearly unparalleled. She’s not allowed to have coffee, as it makes her so hyperactive she drives her siblings insane. 

General Description: Literally a younger version of Asami (ish. She looks a little closer to her animal roots and has slightly longer canine teeth than Asami in the ‘12 and ‘03 universes. In Rise, she looks very much like a younger Asami but with a different colored headband). 

She wears a black tank top and Spandex shorts on her legs on missions. She wraps her arms and legs from her palms to just halfway up her forearms and the bottom halves of her legs. She doesn’t have many clothes (mainly hand-me-downs from Asami they got out of overstuffed donation sites and a few things she found for herself), but she does have a green and brown kimono from when Asami was younger that Lupa hardly ever wears.

In Rise, when not on missions, Lupa wears mostly tank tops and shorts, but likes sweatpants and hoodies if she’s in the mood.

And that’s it! Feel free to ask questions! Hope you guys like my girls! :)

#OC Fanart #OC #Original Character #Original Female Character #TMNT #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT OC #Asami Hamato #Lupa Hamato #Hamato OC #older sister #younger sister

[desperauxtilling]

Bianca reunites with Nico at Camp Jupiter, based on the Bianca Role Reversal/Roman Nico AU by @achillesmonochrome.  

“Nico,” she says, “It’s me.”

Her thick lashes wet with tears and she sobs. Her thumbs smooth over his cheekbones, his eyelids, trace the freckles on his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to look away. She moves to embrace him and he steps back, finally, has to ask, “Who are you?”

Jason and Reyna are talking far too much for Nico’s comfort. He can tell when they’re putting on a show for him. No one else is privy to their fronts, but given their protective nature over him, it makes sense. 

“What is this about?” The senate house is eerily quiet. There’s a sense of foreboding in the air. His palms sweat. He can’t place the anxiety mounting inside his chest. Some nervous, intense physical response that he hopes has more to do with Reyna and Jason concealing something than the thing being concealed. 

Jason places a hand on his shoulder, gentle and affirming. His face warms at the touch. “There’s an ambassador we would like you to meet.”

“All the Centurions have to meet the new ambassador, Jason.” He’s more excited at the prospect of meeting the new demigod accompanying the ambassador. Rumor has it, it’s one of Pluto’s children. 

“Quit being cheeky.” He looks to Reyna for help.

“We wanted you two to meet first,” Reyna actually manages to calm him. Whenever Jason’s in close physical proximity, his brain tends to short circuit, and he’s not able to focus on anything else. “Before she’s thrust into the public.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Reyna and Jason share a glance. They have been friends for much longer with each other than Nico, and surprisingly, he rarely gets jealous of them (anymore), despite how close they are. In fact, he had gotten closer with Reyna since confessing his feelings for Jason, as she tried to sort out her own sexuality in relation to their close bond. 

“You should just meet her.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes, ushering him forward. He lets it happen, just to keep Jason’s hand on him longer.  In the middle of the space, framed against the pillars and the towering rows of the empty senate, stands a girl. She’s slender and pale. She could be described as delicate from a distance, until you got a look at her eyes. They sheen black as stygian iron, with unfathomable depth. 

Her black trenchcoat is quite roomy, a giant shadow she can slip into (and what a notion that is), but underneath wears a normal green wrap dress over dark jeans. Her dark, curly hair tumbles down her shoulders. She doesn’t look like any demigod Nico’s ever seen.

But at the sight of her, something awakens. Something inside him is screaming, trying to get out. There’s a muted pressure behind his eyes giving him a headache. He winces.

The girl looks at him and emits a sound Nico’s never heard a person make. It hurts, low and pained, shaking with absolute disbelief. For many long moments, she just stares, and he tries to understand why she’s looking at him like that. With such importance. Such gravity. 

“Nico.” Her voice is rough. His name sounds like a prayer.

It doesn’t occur to him to ask how she knew his name. He stands there, afraid of what might happen to her if he leaves her field of vision. She seems afraid he’ll disappear any second.

She walks to him slowly, her hands reaching to cup his cheeks when she’s close enough, inspecting him for damage. Her hands are cold, but he doesn’t mind. He’s got such a low body temperature, being a child of Pluto. 

“Nico,” she says, “It’s me.”

Her thick lashes wet with tears and she sobs. Her thumbs smooth over his cheekbones, his eyelids, trace the freckles on his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to look away. She moves to embrace him and he steps back, finally, has to ask, “Who are you?”

He regrets the question the instant he asks it. Her face crumples from shock to despair, and she starts crying harder, if possible. But that lasts only a moment. Her head bows and she collects herself. When she rises again, her face is splotchy but dry. Her black eyes look sinister rimmed red. 

“I... I’m your sister,” she says. 

“You’re a child of Pluto, too? I thought you were bringing my sister.”

“No, I am, she is, but... you’ll meet her later. Nico, I am your sister. Your human sister.”

The world stops. Everything comes into high definition. The shadows in the room darken until she is the only thing he can see. He feels as though he’s been plunged into ice water. His frigid lungs conspire against him.

“My sister? I don’t have a sister. What?” He’s dizzy. He actually stumbles, and would have fallen if not for Jason’s hand on his back.

“... You don’t remember me.” 

“What’s happening?” He looks to Reyna for support, help, something. She keeps him grounded when everything threatens to float away. She regards Bianca carefully, and seems upset that her presence is setting him off. He’s finally gotten his panic attacks, blackouts, under control. Until now. 

She’s quiet for a long time after that, though, choosing her words carefully. “Just let me explain. Please, Nico.”

His name sounds so tender coming from her. 

They both need air, so he walks with her down the lip of the Tiber, listening warily. They sit peacefully on the bank. Blades of grass brown under her touch. “I thought you were dead. I was supposed to protect you. It’s my fault you’re here.” 

Nico feels it necessary he defend his homestead. “I like it here. I’m... happy.” And he never feels ownership over that word. 

The ambassador smiles pityingly. “Nico, you don’t belong here.”

A chill settles over him. The words hurt more than he expected. He was a weird enough kid, isolated enough, without this reminder. The pain must show palpably on his face, because she backtracks. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions, either.

“That’s not what I meant! I-I’m sorry. This is new. I’ve spent the last few years grieving you, and now you’re here, and, and I don’t want to mess things up like I did last time.” Her hands curl into the dirt. She exhales. “I can’t tell you everything right now. But know this: I’m your sister. And I’m going to take care of you, no matter what. I won’t let you get hurt ever again.”

Despite himself, warmth blooms in his chest. He’s inclined to believe her. She’s so sincere and she looks lonely in a way that Nico recognizes. When he catches their reflections side by side in the water, he sees how much they look alike. His heart hammers in his chest.

“I know, Bee,” he tells her. “I know.”

“Bee?” He touches his lips, not sure where the moniker came from. She laughs. “It’s Bianca. You used to call me Bee when you were little, because my name was too long.” 

The nickname buzzes in his mouth. More floats beneath the surface of his mind, just out of reach. Nico has an idea of who he is, but not what came before Camp Jupiter. He likes who he is here.

And when he gets a look at Bianca (his sister) and her haunted eyes, he isn’t sure he wants to find out what happened before.

#pjo #bianca diangelo #nico diangelo #hoo #jasico #reyna avila ramirez arellano #hadesswap #oh you best believe more is coming with diangelo/hazel bonding #and that bianca has a crush on reyna #its COMING!

[the-real-bris]

Update time!

Word count: 1,134

Cynder's sobs ripped through the quiet of the dark hospital as Doctor Efrin dug her scalpel into the crook of the crying girl's neck. Blood flowed from the incision. Efrin turned away, reaching towards the tray that held sinister looking tools and a small dish that had a singular microchip in it. When the doctor turned back to the girl strapped to the surgical table, she wielded a thin jagged blade and a pair of tweezers with the chip clamped between them. "This won't hurt one bit."

She awoke in a cold sweat, gasping, tears streaming down her face. Looking wildly around the warmly lit room, Cynder realized that she was not in the hospital, but a quiet bedroom with stone walls. The golden furred jaguar lying at the foot of the bed uncoiled itself  and sidled up next to the girl, laying alongside. Cynder draped an arm over the cat, her heart slowing. "I don't know what I'd do without you Flame," Cynder murmured, stroking the cat's head. Flame bumped her forehead against Cynder's jaw in response "Everton wasn't always like this you know," Cynder said to her apparatus, knowing full well that Flame already knew. Nevertheless, she went on. "It used to be a place of prosperity and unique people. Everyone had their own special talents. Like the bridges, people with a special connection to the spirit world. That's you and I," she said, still stroking the jaguar. "And of course there was the governor and governess to lead us to prosperity.The governor and governess, always chosen by Usa and Aphien, the spirits of creation and destruction, to assure the best for civilization. Everything was perfect, until Holt and Selene came to power." At this, Flame let out a huff of annoyance. "I know girl," Cynder said sympathetically. She put an arm around Flame, snuggling close to her animal companion. "How could Usa and Aphien choose them?" Cynder touched the scar in the crook of her neck, remembering the cold painful scrape of the scalpel. A knock at the door made her jump. "Who is it?" She stood and took a few tentative steps towards the door, then jumped back when it opened. In the doorway was a tall, lanky, bespectacled boy with a lemur on his shoulder. "Oh," Cynder gave a sigh of relief. "Hey Max." The boy, Max, was so plain, he wouldn't be noticed in a crowded room. The only interesting thing about him was his apparatus. Otherwise, nothing about him, his thin brown hair, his freckled face, and his quiet demeanor, stood out. He was one of the bridges that managed to escape Holt and Selene. He escaped the horrible testing and experimentation that Cynder had endured. It was that which she was envious of. Tension hung heavy in the air like smoke. "I, um," Max stammered. "I came to get you for the meeting."Cynder waved her hand dismissively as she turned back to her bed. "I'm not going." She sat on the bed next to Flame and reached towards the jaguar to pet her again, but Flame slid off the bed and scrambled over to Max's side, looking at Cynder, pleading. "No Flame," Cynder asserted. "You know they just want me to talk about the hospital." Max shifted uncomfortably. "W-well it would be r-really helpful if you would," he trailed off as Cynder glared at him. "Camphor will be there," Max added in a last attempt to get Cynder to go to the meeting. "Camphor," Cynder murmured as she thought of the girl she had risked her life to save, the girl who she had been captured in place of, and the horrified expression she gave Cynder as she was dragged off to the hospital. "She's going to be there?" Max nodded fervently, desperately trying to convince Cynder to join them. She sat silently, and Max got more fidgety with every passing second. "Fine! I'll go," she conceded. "Get out of my room." Max narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh stop your worrying," Cynder scolded him. "I need to change. I was asleep before you so rudely burst in." Cynder pushed the boy out the door before closing it behind him. Flame have Cynder a disappointed look. "Don't look at me like that," she said to the disapproving jaguar. "He deserved it." 

Cynder emerged from the room in a charcoal grey tank top and black leggings. She nervously ran a hand though her short grey hair, uncomfortably aware that she had not brushed her usually fluffy curls out of the unsightly tangle they were in now. "Well," Cyder said, forcing her silvery eyes to meet Max's. "Lead the way." Flame bringing up the rear, the group wound through long dim hallways. With every passing moment, Cynder's heart pounded harder, until she couldn't tell the rush of blood from the dull roar of voices coming from the double doors at the end of the hall. How many people were in there if they could be heard through the dense metal doors?  Max grasped a handle, and with apparent effort, heaved the door open. Behind it were more people than Cynder had seen in years, sinc Selene and Holt's inauguration.  Flame nudged Cyder forward, then brushed past her, padding after Max. Cynder dropped her head, trying to avoid eye contact, and followed the fiery jaguar. The people milled about, pushing against the anxious girl and making her stumble as she trailed after Dox, Flame, and Max. Suddenly the group stopped, and, not paying attention,  Cynder stepped on the jaguar's tail. Flame let out a yowl and Cyder jumped back, slamming into a girl with a curly ponytail and a black and white dress. The room went quiet as everyone stared at Cynder. "S-sorry," she stammered, feeling a thousand eyes burn into her. Max, with an expression of horror, dragged Cynder away from the girl. "Don't you know who that is," he hissed under his breath. Cynder shook her head, glancing back at the girl. She looked embarrassed. "Max let her go," she said. "I'm Euphemia Grantham, but you can call me Effie." Effie extended a hand toward Cynder. "Grantham? As in Erasmus Grantham? As in the head of the council," Cynder exclaimed. "Please forgive me, had I known it was you-" Effie cut her off by grabbing her hand, not even batting an eye at the cold metal. "It's okay Cynder, please don't feel like you need to treat me any differently because of my father." She gave Cynder a warm smile. "This must be a stressful day for you. I'll escort you to the council meeting, if you allow me that is." Cynder nodded,and Effie led the group to the back of the room, still clinging to Cynder's metal arm.

(@anti-shadow)

#story update #Tales of Everton #hospital tw #tw blood #long post #writing

[bread-elf]

DWC 2020 - Day 4

May not be suitable for all readers, viewer discretion is advised

Broken

Mist of Pandaria, pre Siege of Orgrimmar If you want to play, come and find me… Jiroki suddenly became acutely aware of the scents around her, of burning gunpowder and charred flesh. Ash filled her lungs and she coughed herself awake, tearing her heavy eyelids open to try and gauge what’s around her. Through moist eyes she blinked away the blurriness as best as she could, though after a few seconds she wished she didn’t. The sky had started off as a bright and sunny day, but now smoke filled the empty skies above her, black and grey colored streaks tainting the air. Her body felt heavy, and she struggled to push herself up. Plate armor wore her down as she propped herself onto her elbows, chest heavy as she can feel her usually tight and neat bun of hair falling apart. The blue tabard with the Lion’s sigil she wore diligently had been torn asunder and defiled with sweat, blood, and oil. Her helmet had been long lost in the fighting along the way, but that had not been a factor in the way the appendage of her ears felt like they were severely battered. Hissing in through her teeth she reaches up to try and tentatively touch one, but decided against it, she had more pressing matters on her mind. Come and find me.

A taunt lingered in her mind as she rolled herself over, and she first gasped and nearly choked on her own coughing fit when met with a startling sight. A robotic golem, much like the ones common to Westfall, lay right in front of her, its gaze affixed on her while its body had been torn asunder by a large lance jutting out of it. It lay dormant, broken, but it stirred many questions in her mind as she began to push herself up onto all fours. “Hel-Hello?! Anyone?!” On her knees she finally takes a look around. Many other golems lay in similar circumstances, but that only explained half of the scents she could currently smell. The rest came from mangled and scorched bodies, identified by their smaller size and the same blue tabards she wore. “No- no!” Scrambling to the nearest one to her, a vaguely familiar shape of a man, grabbing hold of his shoulder and rolling him onto his back. “Arathon! Arathon?!” A young human with auburn hair, now muddled with blood as a gaping wound dripped on the side of his head. He had recently just got engaged, but Jiroki had pressured him into coming on this mission since she was his second in command. She shook him a bit, hoping perhaps that it was not too late, that the pink mush leaking from the side of his head was just a dust in her eyes, but her efforts are in vain. Glancing around she takes better not of the other bodies around, and a particular name nearly makes her entire being cease to exist. “Gelt- GELT?!” Jiroki pushes herself to stand but nearly crumples as she cries out in pain that takes her by surprise, looking and seeing that a chunk of plate had been torn off her leg, and had torn her calf to shreds. A trail of blood had followed her as she had crawled over here, and it continued to follow her as she forced herself to stand and limb along the carnage, desperate for any living souls. The side of her face felt wet, but she ignored it as she began her search. The battle took place in the Hinterlands, a mission to chase down a notorious individual that had once been a part of the cavalry unit she had partnered up with. Jiroki, being a part of the infantry of Stormwind’s militia, had many long debates with her Marshal, commander of her unit who currently had gone to the campaign in Pandaria, a campaign she herself couldn’t go to in fears that the mysterious force known as the Sha would consume her for her anger. Something to be rightfully fearful of, given how she is. So with her infantry men that were left behind, they had kept themselves occupied and helped stabilize other fortifications in the King’s name, and found themselves getting to know a cavalry unit stationed in the Blasted Lands. Though both cavalry and infantrymen alike lay scattered in heaps of corpses around her with the wreckage of golems. “ANYONE?!” Nearly hopping on one leg she explores the field of carnage carefully, the battle having been a wide berth in the lands. “Call out! Whistle! Something!” Her voice cracks, no one is alive. Only her. The side of her face still felt wet, and in frustration she wipes the moisture away with a gauntlet, only to be surprised by the sight of her own blood splattered on her gauntlet. A vague memory creeps into her mind, moments before she blacked out, how she had survived. A small blade of cold steel, dragging delicately across her skin. Her ears twitch, picking up a sound, and she glances back over her shoulder towards a hacked sob. Shuffling in that direction she keeps her silver eyes as wide as she can as she glances around, and the moment she sees a hunched over figure shuddering she nearly sprints. “Swadley, is that you?!” Seeing the small human hunched over, the girl barely having reached adulthood recently. She sobbed hysterically, fiery red hair spilled out of her helmet, or was that blood? Jiroki nearly collapses as she tries to get to her, but by the strength of will manages to keep herself from falling onto her knees until she’s behind her. “Amber-” Cutting herself off as she realizes Amber is holding someone, and she drags herself around to see who it is. Jiroki’s stomach drops as she sees the body of Gelt’s daughter, Eilynne. Around Amber’s age as well, she dressed in mage battle robes as her curly blond hair framed her head that Amber carefully cradled, her gentle face looking peaceful as ever while her robes seeped of her entrails that had spilled out by whatever had caused her demise. So close to becoming disheveled, Jiroki looks up at Amber, so far the only other living soul she’s found, but it sparks a bit of hope. “Amber; have you seen Gelt?” Amongst all the bodies she had not seen this man, a man who had so carefully pried open her heart. “I can’t find him, everyone is-” Her words hang in the air, not having the will to finish, but also realizing that Amber wasn’t paying attention to her words. The young human continued to hyperventilate from the trauma, vibrant green eyes staring straight ahead of her and not even having glanced to Jiroki at all. The elf decides to follow her gaze, and her stomach riots. “Gelt!” A saw blade had seared through his torso and severed both arms, one laying nearby as the other is lost in the carnage. The saw blade in question currently resided in him as well, protruding from his legs as if it had been left there as a landmark. Jiroki couldn't believe the audacity of the display his corpse had become, unsure of if this was actually the first human she has ever loved. But his hazel eyes look the same as they stare unliving to the sky, the roots of his dark brown hair had begun greying out in age, that little scar he had since he was a child over his left eyebrow from a stumble he took. Jiroki hadn’t even felt herself as she moved closer, everything in her core squeezing tight as her jaw clenched. She could no longer ignore the riot in her stomach, turning herself away from his body as she started to heave whatever remnants were leftover from hours ago. Jiroki felt her chest begin to crumble, her form shaking as the heaved sobs force their way out of her gut, trying to pant for air but finding none as she’s short of breath. This time she could feel fluid sliding down both cheeks, now shedding tears that mingled with the blood and soot on her face. So close to breaking. “J-J-J-” Hearing the stutters of Amber, Jiroki turns her head, slowly and nearly without life. But she notices that Amber is clutching something else to her chest, which with a trembling hand tries to extend out. A green glow emitted around her fingers of whatever she held tightly. Suspicions begin to stir in Jiroki that make her come closer, extending her own hand to accept whatever it is that Amber wants to pass her. A fel green stone drops into her hand, immediately sending the hairs on the back of Jiroki’s neck standing. Turning it in her hand she could tell it wasn’t a health stone, though unintentionally she smears a bit of her blood onto the stone. Right away it begins to light up and Jiroki almost chucks it, but a swirling mist forms inside the rock catches her attention, causing her to stare into it as a figure forms. “Well, well, it seems you’ve woken up.~” A taunting voice speaks from the fel stone, and Jiroki sees a face that makes her blood boil. A human woman with strawberry blonde hair and lips red as blood, her face having a snarky sneer as the message continues on. “I left our mutual friend alive to give this to you. I certainly couldn’t kill her like the others, she was always the nicest to me, and the cutest.” Her voice takes on a sickenly sweet mock, and out of the corner of Jiroki’s eyes she can see Amber huddle forward. “I’m sure you’re going to look darling once my scars on you heal up. The game still stands.~ You know what to do.” A flashback runs through Jiroki’s mind, moments in combat before her world went dark. Fighting with a golem that she managed to sever its leg off with her glaive, but then something from behind nearly obliterates her leg. Collapsing onto the ground her glaive slips from her hand, and a crushing force lands top of her. A different golem had snuck up and pinned her down, but that wasn't nearly as alarming as the pair of slippered feet that casually walked around Jiroki’s head, a woman dressed in robes kneeling down beside her head. Jiroki’s helmet gets removed and tossed aside, and a soft hand roughly grabs Jiroki’s chin and tilts it upward. “Ellie-” Jiroki sneers, the strawberry blonde woman giggling as battle happens around them. “You could have avoided this you know.” Ellie’s other hand reaches forward to begin gliding her fingers along the elongated ear of the elf. “This wasn’t any of your business. But now it’s too late. I’ll need to set a firm reminder for your lover boy.” “You won’t get away with this!” Jiroki struggles to get up, trying to call forth her inner magics for a way of escape, but she feels the magic being siphoned out of her like breath being drawn for her lungs. The woman just cackles, wrapping her hands around Jiroki’s ears. No words are given as fel fire is conjured, and Jiroki screams in sheer agony as her ears are burned. As it goes on Jiroki’s vision starts to fade, trying to grasp onto consciousness as the pain rivals some of her most severe injuries. Eventually it stops, and her throbbing ears can barely hear the sound of a blade being drawn from a sheathe, the cold steel being dragged along her cheek in a crisscross. “Heheh, but I already am getting away with it. Once I kill off the rest of my enemies, that is.” Making her mark of an X on Jiroki’s cheek, letting the blood weep from the skin. “But, if you want to play, come and find me.” Jiroki’s brought back from her mind as fel stone fizzles out, losing its color and becoming a dull grey. Just now noticing how much her hand is trembling, her grip tightens on the rock, it begins to crack. Amber’s sobs bring her attention; at least one person is alive from all this, and she needs to be taken from here. “Amber…” Conscious of Gelt’s body near her she Jiroki does her best to ignore it for the time being, coming closer to the small human. “We have to go.” Amber’s sobbing gets worse at that, reluctant to leave Eilynne’s body. Jiroki manages to push herself to stand and come beside Amber, bending down and trying to coax Amber to let go. She starts to struggle, Amber crying hysterically, but Jiroki realizes that the human had many cuts and gashes in her armor as well. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Jiroki hoists up, and the body of Eilynne slips from Amber’s grasp as she starts to wail and struggle. Amber only stood about five feet in height, much more shorter than the elf that reached seven feet, yet Jiroki found her strength taxed while moving her. Hoisting the human up with unsteady legs she gets Amber hanging over her shoulder, stumbling a few steps backwards and risking a fall, but she manages. Amber kicks and wails and tries to squirm off, but she’s just a broken and weakened mess as Jiroki still has just an ounce of strength left to carry out this task, hanging on by sheer will and anger. “I’m going to kill her...” Jiroki talks to herself as she limps along the bloodied grounds, Amber’s hysterical cries ambience in the background. “I’m going to tear her heart out…” Trying to take Amber out away from all the carnage and into an open field for air, and from there she can at least gain their bearings. A caw from the air catches her attention, lifting her head up to look. High up above a gryphon looped in a circle, a dwarf on the back that surveyed the area. It must have been one of the Wildhammer’s sent to scout what had caused all the smoke and fires on the ground. Jiroki stops and waves her hand up that was holding Amber steady for leverage, trying to catch the dwarf’s attention. Once Amber was safe, games could be played. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After all was said and done it became clear that revenge can’t fill a void in her chest. Jiroki sat in a chair outside of Gelt’s former house in Stormwind, dressed in comfortable robes and a glass of lemonade on a table in front of her. It remained untouched, Jiroki just staring out blanky in front of her towards the cobblestone streets. Devoid of emotions she just sat, but from the open door stepped out a Highborne. “Alright, I just finished folding up the sheets… It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Long silver hair bound back while his own beard had been braided to keep from flourishing, Sasil had nearly been stuck to Jiroki’s side ever since her return, helping tend to her injuries and whatever business she had to settle. Him speaking caused her ears to twitch, and it sends a dull and painful reminder of the bandages wrapped around them. “Hm…” Jiroki had nothing to say, nothing she wanted. Sasil adjusted his rolled up sleeves, uncharastically in loose linen and simple trousers as he had set to help clean the fallen cavalry's house today for Jiroki. A quick glance made him notice Jiroki hadn’t touched her lemonade, and he tries a different approach. “There does happen to be a slight chill in the air…” He states. “Perhaps some tea would be more fitting? Do you want me to make some jasmine?” Coming up and gently brushing his hand over the back of her hair. “If you want.” Dismissive, not reacting to his touch at all. His silver brows knit together, but he goes ahead and steps inside to start brewing some tea, nothing else he could do but try. Jiroki remained still for a time longer, eyes lazily spotting a small butterfly landing on a potted plant with budding flowers. Eilynne had planted those, she had watered them diligently every day. Moving from her spot she glued herself to for hours she stands, leaving her drink unattended as she steps into the house. It had become barren, only large pieces of furniture and kitchenware remaining as most of the personal belongings and decor had been packed. Jiroki didn’t have the will to go through them, nor did Gelt and Eilynne Weissgron have any living relatives to contact, let alone a unit to report back to. Sasil tood in the kitchen, a kettle already over a stove top as he looked through different tea blends that were in the house, turning as he noticed Jiroki going towards the stairs. “Jiroki-?” “I’m going to lay down for a bit.” Bare feet gently pad up the wooden steps as she makes her way up, leaving Sasil down below. “Ah- ok! I’ll- I’ll be here…” Letting his words fall flat, brushing his hand over his head as he lets out a sigh. Jiroki could have walked with her eyes close to the bedroom where Gelt used to be in, one she had shared with on special nights. But it looked so different now, boxes filled with his belongings and some with decorations. For a split second the thought occurred to her that perhaps they were just moving, moving to Ironforge like he had hoped to one day. But the daydream was smothered out by the cold reality. Walking forward she makes her way to the bed. The blankets had not been packed yet, and his scent still lingered in the room, but she nearly tripped as one of the floorboards bent at an odd angle. Quickly stepping back she looks down to see it partially lifting up from the rest, and it was then that she realized she had nearly forgotten about his secret cubby. “Don’t tell Eilynne, but I keep her mother’s heirlooms in here. I don’t trust banks.” The middle aged men had beckoned to Jiroki once upon a time, having crow’s feet yet still had a youthful mischievous glint in his eyes. Jiroki knelt herself down and gingerly pulled back the floorboard, seeing the box hidden beneath. Reaching down she plucked it out and held it on her lap, deciding to go through it. Inside rest a savings bond written to Eilynne that she could cash in when of an older age, a small ring box that held both Gelt’s and his deceased wife’s wedding rings, and a jeweled locket that would have been passed on to Eilynne. Jiroki didn’t know what to do with the savings bond, but perhaps the other items could be buried with Gelt and his daughter. But there was a different small box that Jiroki didn’t remember seeing, pulling that out and setting the rest down. It looked like a ring box too, but she couldn’t recall him showing anymore then what she had thus so far seen. Opening it up, when she looked inside she nearly felt her body tear in on itself. A single ring, a shining silver with Darnassian rune work lining all around it, a studded diamond perched atop that shimmered like it was brand new. On the inside of the band was the tiniest of engravings, but stood out the most for her. G & J. The ring fell onto the floor with a gentle clatter as Jiroki gripped the sides of her head tightly, trembling and started to heave up sobs to the point she started gagging. Overcome with grief she tries to run away from it, so much so as to stand up and physically move away from the ring meant for her, but she nearly topples over a standing mirror. Turning in shock she sees herself in her reflection, ears wrapped up in bandages and another patch right over the mark that Ellie had left on her cheek, where a scar would form. The very same face that led so many to death, she takes the opportunity to exact her vengeance on her own self and punch at her reflection, causing the mirror to shatter with a loud crash. From downstairs Sasil immediately bolted up the flight of steps and to the room, just in time to see Jiroki hurl the rest of the standing mirror towards the wall. A hand shoots out and with his arcane capabilities the shards and furniture piece are pulled away from her, and he’s quick to dash in and catch her falling form. “You’re ok, you’re ok!” He gently chides as he pants, having exerted his talents much more quickly than he was prone to, but that meant nothing to him as he held Jiroki to his chest. She wailed into him, fists weakly striking at him before she just gives in to her grief, mourning loudly and clutching to the Highborne. Sasil soothes Jiroki’s hair as she laments, there in the room with so many memories packed away. Knelt by the broken pieces of the mirror, Jiroki lets herself break as well. (( @daily-writing-challenge​ )) (( Amber is my alt! Shout out to all the other player characters involved in this! This was set in the time somewhere between events of MoP and way before Warlords released, with guilds no longer active! I hope they’re all doing well. )) (( I also had been fighting vertigo all day, so halfway through this is when editing stopped, sorry for any inconsistencies! ))

#stories