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hiskillingjar · 3 months

Note

hiihi just wanted to make a request for maybe like headcanons or drabbles or rlly whatevr medium you prefer abt lawrence strade or ren w/ dollification. i just think that some of the boys r wayyy better at taking care of their dolls than others LOL. strade would probably just use it as an excuse to totally manhandle n beat up an MC more but... i think ren would take care of a "doll" better imo

hrghhhhh i hate you people, you can't keep using this kink against me

since i already wrote a headcanon post very similar to this, i thought i'd just. write some drabbles because i'm insane and i hate working on actual writing lmao

cw for some gory descriptions in law's and strade's parts. as expected. also i posted this on ao3 because why not :P

🥀

"Law…Law~"

Your voice was as quiet as the coo of a dove from where you were sitting, settled down at Lawrence's feet while they attended to potting a new plant, the haze of marijuana smoke streaming from their lips like a slumbering dragon as the humidifier steamed up the wide windows of the apartment, as if they were trying to conceal you (what you had become, what they made you) from the rest of the world, keep you to themselves.

Your brain was as hazy as theirs with similarly strong drugs, administered through poisoned tea in a floral teacup, which left you doped up and thoughtless, vulnerable to any cruel intentions that they had with you.

Not like you cared about their intentions anymore though. You didn't have the brain to.

"Shhh…"

Lawrence didn't look directly at you, but they still smiled as they shushed you, the corners of their pretty mouth curling up into a serene smile, as peaceful and detached as an angel, a benevolent Goddess looking at a lamb left behind for the slaughter by a sadistic master.

Adequately silenced, you let out a sleepy moan in place of any more words, pressing your heavy head against their leg (you barely reached their knee now) and nuzzling it the best you could, what little remained of your brain seeking comfort from them, no matter what the cost might have been (and it could be steep, when Lawrence was the one administering the toll).

Tonight, though, they seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps it was the stream of smoke from their lips or the still burning joint in the ashtray at the side, but whatever the cause, they couldn't help but laugh quietly as you kept nuzzling up against their leg.

"Oh, there you are." They said kindly. "That's my good doll. My special, little doll…"

They continued to work on their plants, though they were kind enough to reward you with a few head scritches, to let you know they were paying attention to you, and appreciating your sweet, docile form at their feet.

You instinctively raised your head to press against their palm, letting them stroke through your hair even more, chasing after each touch with trilled moans and high whimpering whines.

Lawrence had to smile again, finally looking down on you (their smile never touching their eyes, the stiff grin of a corpse, a girl in the water, a bride in a freezer) as you rose on your injured knees to lean into their hand, admiring the way your hair (a little greasy and matted, they hadn't been taking care of you too well as of late) fell around your bruised face, and the pinpricks of blood that were dotted on your lips made you look made up and pretty, like a figure or a toy.

This was the way you were meant to be, and you knew that. You were meant to be a sweet little thing for them to care for, a doll who'd had their joint popped out by a child who played too roughly with their toys, so docile and so trusting that you would obey whatever order came from them.

Or, at the very least, not put up too much of a fight against it.

"Law…" You whined softly, trying to sit forward on your knees, the infected cuts (you probably had sepsis of some kind, the hack job through your limbs had been done so sloppily, though not like you had the mind to be worried about that of all things) bound with blood-dotted bandages, pain cutting through the haze of pleasurable cotton padding in your head. "Mm, please…"

Lawrence looked at you curiously as you asked for something, the gentle strokes of their fingers pausing.

"Do you want something, love?"

"Mmm…"

They glanced at you, those beautiful, dead eyes dull with a familiar calmness and serenity that deadened their senses and made them all the more irresistible.

In your drugged state, it was easy to fall into a contented and submissive silence despite the searing pain that haunted you whenever you were sober enough to feel it, content to just be in Lawrence's presence and enjoy your life, or rather the remnants of it, as their doll.

You hummed again as they continued to stroke your hair, letting yourself settle at their feet, subdued into quiet submission at their touch.

"Can I have some more tea?" You finally asked after a few moments of quiet, distracted by a sudden searing sensation in what used to be your right leg. "Please…"

Lawrence chuckled softly at your question, shaking their head slightly without even looking at you.

"Oh…doll, I don't think that'd be a good idea…"

There was a subtle edge to their voice now, a lowness and authority that you weren't completely used to, as if they were trying to make a point.

"Remember the last time you had a second serving? Your mouth went numb and you couldn't keep your thoughts in line. I could barely understand you all night, had to shut you up just to stop you from babbling and babbling…" They looked at you again, with a quirk of their head, barely a light in those dead eyes. "Remember that, dolly? Or did you forget?"

"Mm…please?" You pouted all the same as you continued to plead, your blood-pricked lips trembling, watching as they sighed and set their tools down, stooping down to your level and scraping back a lock of blonde hair behind their ear with dirty hands. "It's hurting again, Law…hurting awful."

"Shh…it's okay, little doll…"

Lawrence kept the tone of their voice as gentle as they could, trying to soothe you as they reached forward to stroke over each stump of what used to be your limbs. Your wounds were still bad, made worse by the dirt constantly clinging to their fingers when they attended to them as best they could, but you were, at least, always too drugged to feel the severity of the pain, too drugged from the chemicals in their brew and too drugged from the sleepy calmness in their voice, to notice how bad they'd gotten in the weeks since they'd first done it.

"Okay, petal…okay." They nodded, their long (lovely) fingers stilling. "I'll give you some more tea, but you better not take too much this time, you hear me?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded with a grateful smile, following behind them on all fours, like an innocent, little lamb (being led to the slaughter) as they stood back to their feet and paced to the small kitchen connected to the rest of the apartment. "Thank you, thank you~"

"Of course, darling…of course."

They kept their back to you as they went ahead to the kitchen for your next serving of drugs, clicking the kettle on and spooning teaspoons of herbs into your special teacup.

"I have to do everything I can to keep my doll quiet and sweet on me…isn't that right?"

🦊

"Okay, baby, what does this say?"

Ren asked the question sweetly, the tone of his voice similar to that of a kind teacher speaking to a particularly challenging student as he held the book to your eyes, his golden gaze encouraging and warm.

You screwed up your expression thoughtfully, your bound hands curling into fists in the fluffy tulle of your skirt as you focused intently on the book, trying to put the letters together and make the word he was teaching you in your muddled-up brain.

Ren didn't mind that you were muddled up now, though, especially since he had gone through such an effort to do it in the first place.

In fact, he liked the opportunity to teach you new things, teach you not to resist him when he forced you into girly, fetish outfits, and teach you to be exactly the type of pet he wanted.

One who was just as eager about his teaching as he was.

"Fuh…uh," You sounded out, crossing your socked feet (white and frilly around the ankles) under you as he nodded eagerly at your words. "Ex. Fu-uh-ex."

"Yes, yes, you're almost there!" He said with a bright grin, his fangs shiny and wet as he nodded again. "Fuh, that's an F." He pointed at each bold letter with a claw, sounding it out just as you did so you'd have a better understanding of him. "Uh, that's an O. And ex, that's an X." He looked to you again before pointing at the cartoonish illustration at the top of the page. "And what's this? What does that spell out?"

"That's Ren!" You said excitedly, grinning at the cartoon fox on the thick boarded book before looking back to him, waiting for praise.

"Good doll!" He said with a yipping giggle, covering his mouth with his jacket sleeve to stop it from growing louder. "Heh, that's very good, but not quite. What does it spell, dolly? Use your brain to work it out."

You didn’t need to remind him that you didn’t have much of a brain left.

"Mmmm…" You looked thoughtful again, following each time his claw moved with your bright, and yet utterly empty eyes again. "Fuh…uh…ex. Oh, it's fox!" You smiled victoriously, looking into his eyes. "Fox, it's a fox, just like Ren!"

"Wow, good job!" He praised encouragingly (condescendingly), setting down the book and clapping his hands. "So smart, dolly, you did so, so well!~"

You beamed proudly as he leaned forward, a familiar sticker sheet of golden star stickers in hand, and peeled two off to lay flat on each of your cheeks, a reward for being so smart. Your skin was powdery and matte with concealer and blush to hide your bruises, so the stickers almost instantly tried to peel away, but neither of you minded.

It was the thought that counted, after all.

"You're doing such a good job with your reading today, dolly, I think we should give you an even bigger reward." Ren sat back on his knees with a familiar grin on his face. "What do you think?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded obediently, your empty eyes lighting up as he slid off the bed (your bed, not his, but he slept in it with you so often that it might have well have been) and fetched your favourite wand from the bedside table drawer, full of similarly well-used toys in varying colours and sizes.

Ren chuckled at your eager expression and slid the wheel of the wand up, watching intently as it buzzed to life in his hands before his eyes went back to yours and narrowed, a new air of quiet authority taking over his expression.

"Raise your skirts, doll." He ordered, and you did so almost instantly.

The jangling chain of your wrist cuffs (loose and comfortable, almost exclusively there for show) was light and delicate as you pulled the cotton skirt of your dress and scratchy tulle petticoat up your soft thighs to reveal your panties, already slightly damp, desire soaking into the cheesy pink and heart-adorned graphic, reading 'Princess'.

"Good girl," He praised, his voice a soft purr, lowering the rumbling head of the vibrator to the front of your panties (just over the graphic) and watching with a salacious smile as you instantly started to moan and whine at the sensation. "Good doll. Happy to see your best friend, huh?”

“Mmm…” You groaned with a little nod, doing your best to rock your hips forward and chase after the pleasurable vibrations, biting your pink and pouty lips as your eyelids fluttered from the sharp shocks from the wand. “Yeah, yeah…so happy.”

“Mm, it seems like kind of a waste of time to be teaching you, though,” Ren started, sitting up on his knees to cup your chin with his free hand, sliding the vibrator into your panties and positioning it against your already erect clit, eyes sparkling at your instant desperate and high pitched moan. “You know, when I can make you all cute and stupid again just by using this thing, right?”

“Nnhhh…hah…” You groaned, burying your fists into your skirts, your expression screwing up again as he sloooowly turned the speed and intensity of the vibrator up a few more notches, the sensations sharp and quasi-painful…or at least they would be painful, had you not been trained to receive pain as mind melting pleasure. “OHHH! Ah, ah, mm!”

“Ah, there it is.” Ren said airily, giggling as he looked deeply into your fluttering eyes, his own shining with malice. “All those thoughts leaking out of you. My, my, dolly, whatever am I going to do with you if you stay this fucking stupid, huh?~”

“Rennnn…” You whined, trying to shy away from the wand as he slid it up another notch, each jolt of brutal pleasure enough to make your mind wipe and your vision go spotty. “Nghhh, god…”

“I suppose I’m just going to have to take care of you forever, aren’t I?” Ren continued, answering his own question as he leaned closer, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your jaw, scenting you, the soft whisps of his hair tickling your made-up cheek. “I’m going to have to dress you, and feed you, and teach you everything you’ve forgotten, hm?”

“Yesss,” You whined with a deliriously happy smile, pressing closer to him, bound hands reaching up to grab the front of his jacket and pull him in close. “Yes, yes, please take care of me, please…”

“Oh, dolly,” He moaned softly, suddenly straddling your soft thigh and pressing his own groin down against it, giving away instantly that he was rock hard. “Oh, sweet thing, of course, I’ll take care of you…it would be my pleasure to.”

You let out a trembling little giggle, girlish and sweet, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, rutting up against the vibrator as he rutted down against your thigh, breathing heavily as he listened to each of your own ragged breaths.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as his free hand drifted away from your face and groped at your chest through the bodice of the lolita-style dress he had wrangled you into that morning. “You’re going to feel so good that you’re never going to want to leave, even if I ever let you have your old brain back…”

“And don’t count on me doing that any time soon, dolly. You’re too fun like this~”

🔨

"Gooood morning, fraulein!~"

Strade's voice was a sickeningly enthusiastic drawl as he switched on the lights, his steps heavy on the wooden stairs, each one groaning beneath his weight as he sank into the depths of the basement, like a demon sinking back into the warming flames of Hell, tired out after pretending to be a human for a little too long.

Not like you were all that clued into his demonic intentions. You were that out of it, your brain slurred and muddled into dumbed-down subservience from his pain and torture.

Maybe there was a mercy to that, a mercy to ignorance so that you would not go (more) insane due to his abuse, his characteristic recklessness from treating his ‘toys’ a little too roughly.

Were demons known for their merciful nature? You didn't remember.

You didn't remember anything.

"Good morning," You slurred through a mouthful of dry, coppery blood, attempting a bright smile as he pushed a hand into your hair and forced your eyes up towards his so that he could inspect you, and get a good look at you in the morning light.

Well, the basement light, anyway. You hadn’t seen morning in days at this point.

"Ah, just look at you." He commented in a voice purring with approval, running a thick finger over your black eye and down the growing bruise on your cheek, dark purple and blue painting your skin like a painting of brutality and pain. "Pretty as a picture, as always. I missed you last night, you know!"

"You did?" You tilted your head dopily and smiled a little bigger, flashing a broken molar at the back of your grin, a reminder of his brutal love (or, more appropriately, lust the previous night. "That's so nice of you to say. I missed you too."

"Mm, it is nice of me, isn't it?" He repeated with a good-natured chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "I'm in a nice kind of mood today." He continued, idly scratching at your scalp with his grimy fingernails, petting you like an animal at his feet. You were all too eager to keen up to his touch as he pleased, be the animal that he wanted. "So nice, I might not beat up that pretty face all too much today. You took an awful lot yesterday, after all." He let go of your hair to tap your broken nose, smiling a little broader at your moan of pain. “Isn’t that right, doll? I think you managed to bruise my knuckles back, actually!”

"Mmmm…" You hummed a low affirmative moan, shivering as the tip of his boot grazed over your purpling knees, marred with bloody cuts and grazes left over from days and nights crawling back and forth the rough cement ground. "That would be lovely..."

"Lovely, eh? Hah, don't think you're going to get off easily though, dummkopf," He let out another laugh, not a smooth chuckle, though, more like the barking cackle of a hyena, his thick brows furrowing in dark amusement as he spoke a language you couldn't understand (though you barely understood him when he spoke English, at times). "I still need to make use of you somehow, ja? So you don't prove too useless to keep around..."

Before you even had the chance to consider the threat behind his words, he reached down with his free hand to unzip his trousers and urged your head forward with another firm grip on your hair. As your bruised cheek pressed against his soft thigh, you couldn’t help but purr in pleasure, just feeling his all-encompassing warmth against you, stifling and boiling hot just like a creature from Hell should be.

"No, no, I have a better idea of what to do with you," He continued, his voice low as you rubbed your cheek against his thigh. "What do you think, doll?" He drawled, a foreign and unfamiliar name (even to him) thick on his poisonous tongue. "Want me to sink my dick down your throat and scramble your brain up even more?"

“Mm,” You moaned in approval, opening your mouth obediently as he tucked his boxers down around his thick cock and pressed into your open, bloody mouth, taking in a low hiss through his teeth at the feeling of your wet tongue, in spite of everything.

Barely moments into your task, as you bobbed your head up and down, your sore jaw manuvered like a puppet on his cock, you found your legs spreading obediently (unconciously, automatically, like it had been trained into you) as he slid the tip of his boot to your cunt (the only place not battered or bruised just yet) and slowly rubbed at it, up and down, growling his approval when your slit left behind a despicably thick smear of pre-cum on the dark leather.

“God,” He mumbled hotly with a rasped chuckle, tipping his head back, his eyes on the single lightbulb hanging from the basement ceiling. “You’re fucking depraved, doll. I’d feel bad for treating you so rough, you know, if I didn’t know you got off on it. Quite the nasty, little toy you are, huh?”

Your eyes fluttered uselessly, like the glass eyes of a baby doll, as he forced your mouth to take his entire length, the lack of oxygen enough to make them roll back into your empty skull as tears ran down your cheeks, glossing the canvas of bruises that he had left behind.

“Mm, nah, actually, I wouldn’t feel bad about it at all.” He mumbled, before looking down at you again, untangling his fingers from your hair and planting a firm smack on your bruised cheek. “You’re just too pretty when I beat you up a little. I can’t resist!”

You yelped when he slapped you again, trying to pull back from the aphyxiating warmth of his cock, but that only encouraged him to force himself deeper, burying your broken nose into the dark hairs at the base and matting them together with your blood.

“Plus, it makes you fight back a little. I like that.” He said again with a heavy sigh, his golden eyes narrowing hungrily. “It’s like there’s a little part of you still trying to resist me, but aw,” He clicked his tongue, giving your cheek another (albeit slightly lighter) slap. “You’re too stupid to let that side of you win now, aren’t you, fraulein?”

“Mmmph,” You groaned, doing your best to nod and squeezing your eyes shut, a new stream of tears running down your cheeks, smearing blood, painting bruises.

“You can’t fight me,” He then said, going back to a pattern of brutal thrusts, bruising your throat and forcing obscene ‘GHK-GHK!’ noises from your throat, all the while rubbing his boot against your cunt. “And you don’t want to. You get off on being treated like a fuck toy too much to fight, don’t you?”

“Mmm~” You moaned, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes as you reached down with bruised and broken fingers, wrists marred with rope burn and the imprints of chains and shakles, to touch yourself.

“Scheußlich,” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he watched you. “Nasty, nasty little girl…mmph, you should be careful, you know?” He bit his lip with a sudden dark look in his eyes, puppeteering your mouth up and down his cock a little faster, a little more erratically, his full hips slamming against your cheeks, your chin.

“I might just fall in love with you, if you keep behaving like this~”

#ren hana #ren btd #ren x mc #ren x reader #lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #lawrence x mc #lawrence x reader #strade btd #strade x reader #strade x mc #drabbles #qs #roman roy voice: YEAH WHATEVER FUCK OFF

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whump-about-it · 1 year

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Red Alert/ Distress Call/ Panic Attack

@whumpril day 1 (few days late)

CW: panic attacks, brief mention of blood, implied suicidal ideation, concern about self harm, dissociation, PTSD

Caretaker knew something was wrong as soon as they saw Whumpee’s name pop up on their phone. Whumpee never called. They hated talking on the phone. Even when something actually warranted a call Whumpee was more likely to send a text. Which more often than not Caretaker wouldn’t see for hours.

“Whumpee?” They said a little too loudly when they picked up the phone, causing a few of their co-workers to look up at them annoyed. On the other end of the phone Whumpee didn’t respond. All Caretaker could hear was heavy, ragged breathing, like Whumpee was running from something.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker repeated “Whumpee are you there? Is everything okay?”

“Caretaker.” Whumpee finally spoke. They sounded out of breathe and their voice lacked its usual force “Caretaker. I - I” They paused for several breathes as Caretaker held their phone in a white knuckle grip, trying not to speak over Whumpee. Trying to let them get the words out on their own.

“Red” Whumpee finally said with a gasp.

Caretaker was up and moving before Whumpee had finished the word. Rushing through their office and towards the exit.

“I’m on my way. Where are you?”

Whumpee wasn’t good at talking about their feelings. Even before Whumper it was something they didn’t like doing, and preferred to keep an emotionless mask at all times. Since Whumper though, holding that mask had gotten harder and somehow more important to them. When they couldn’t hold the mask anymore though, and it cracked, Whumpee struggled to explain what was going on. Their emotions came out in violent outbursts and debilitating panic attacks that they couldn’t control or explain. Overtime Whumpee and Caretaker had managed to come up with a code that Whumpee could use to explain to Caretaker what was going on inside their head.

Green meant everything was okay, and Caretaker was misinterpreting the situation. Yellow meant Whumpee was on edge, but still in control. Orange was for panic attacks. And red? Red meant Caretaker needed to drop everything and get to Whumpee quick.

“Whumpee? Where are you?” Caretaker repeated when Whumpee didn’t respond to them the first time.

“I’m sorry” Whumpee gasped, their voice was sounding more and more distanced, like they were falling into a trance. Caretaker began to panic a little, imagining Whumpee lost someplace and totally dissociating. Doing something stupid or dangerous, and Caretaker not being able to get to them in time.

“Just tell me where you are Whumpee” They insisted in a forced calm voice.

“Home.” Whumpee said and Caretaker breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay. I’m on my way. I’m already in the car. Just stay on the phone with me okay?”

“I broke the mirror.”

“Alright. We’ll deal with that. Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry”

“I don’t care about the mirror Whumpee. Did you hurt yourself?” There was a long pause. before Whumpee responded.

“I don’t know.” They breathed “There’s blood”

Caretaker’s heartrate leapt.

“I’m five minutes away. Just hang on and stay on the phone with me.”

Whumpee didn’t respond. Caretaker kept trying to talk to them but they feared Whumpee wasn’t hearing them anymore.

Caretaker finally pulled into the driveway and jumped out of their car, running into the house. Thankfully they found Whumpee exactly where they thought they would be.

They were sitting on the floor of the downstairs bathroom with their knees up to their chest and starring ahead of them without seeing. Their back was against the vanity and they were surrounded by shards of glass from the shattered mirror above them. In one hand, they were still holding their phone up to their ear even though Caretaker had hung up when they had come through the door. In the other they were holding one of the shards of broken mirror with such an iron grip their hand was shaking. Caretaker could see blood pooling between their fingers and there was a trail dripping down their wrist.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker ran into the bathroom and fell to their knees in front of Whumpee ignoring the bits of glass pushing into their knees through their pants. They grabbed both of Whumpee’s wrists and shook them until they dropped both the phone and the glass shard. With their hands now empty Caretaker examined Whumpee’s arms and wrists for injuries. Their fingers and knuckles were cut on their dominant hand from having punched the mirror, and there were deep cuts on their palm from where they had been gripping the shard of glass. But otherwise they were uninjured, and none of the injuries they had seemed to be intentional.

Caretaker breathed a shaky sigh of relief and looked up at Whumpee’s face. They were white as a sheet and Caretaker could see tear stains running down their cheeks. But they were surprised to find that Whumpee was looking back at them with at least some level of awareness that Caretaker was there.

“Caretaker?”

Caretaker reached forward and put their hands of Whumpee’s cheeks, wiping away the last of the tears.

“Yeah Whumpee I’m here now. How are you doing?”

“Red” Whumpee replied after a moment, and their eyes filled with tears again. Their face twisting to try to keep from crying.

“I can’t even look at myself” They sobbed. “Why did Whumper do that to me? What did I do to deserve it?”

“Oh, Honey” Caretaker knew Whumpee would scold them for the pet name later, but now they didn’t seem to notice. Caretaker pulled them into a hug and let Whumpee cry into their shoulder shaking and gripping at the back of their shirt with their non-bloody hand, as they stroked their hair and tried to hold back their own tears.

“You didn’t do anything to deserve this. Whumper is a monster, and they were going to hurt someone no matter what. But I’m so, so, sorry it was you. Never believe though that it was your fault. Please never believe that.”

They stayed there on the floor of the bathroom for a long time. Whumpee crying into Caretaker’s shoulder and Caretaker doing what they could to comfort them. It had been such a long road for both of them since Whumpee had been rescued from Whumper, and they had a long way to go before Whumpee would even start to be okay again. But Caretaker was proud of Whumpee for today. For calling. For asking for help before they were too far gone. They were glad the code system had worked.

They would tell Whumpee all this later. But now wasn’t the time. Now Whumpee just needed a shoulder to cry on.

#whump #whump drabble #whumpril2023 #whumprilday1 #caretaker x whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #panic attack #distress call #red alert #ptsd #calling for help #recovering whumpee

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smallestapplin · 11 months

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A hero’s journey

Note : this was written by @bellafragolina who asked me to post it here, so please direct all love to her!

Cw : angst, blood, major death. No spoilers.

Link can see memories in your eyes. The tears that stream down your face each have a moment captured in their sparkling reflection.

He sees you, sat next to the fire with the old man, a guitar splayed across your lap. Your face was smooth and curious, and you understood his confused signing. You translated for him, and at the behest of the old man, followed him around as he discovered the plateau and worked through the shrines.

You marveled at the abilities of his Sheikah Slate always made him smile. The powers of the runes were magnificent, but Link didn’t feel the same wonder as you. Which is what made you so interesting to him. You weren’t from Hyrule, you had explained. His amnesia paired with your foreignness made you both a strange pair, but Link liked you. And you liked him, just him, even after discovering who he was from the old man.

Link sees your face scrunched in concentration. He’s pressed against you, teaching you to hunt. You weren’t the best with a bow or a sword, but Link was patient, and you were determined to learn. And you let him get close, let him discover how to touch someone again, how to pinch strangely rounded ears and grab hands. And you showed him how to be touched. Your fingers in his hair, legs pressed against his whenever you sat, your body near his for warmth through chilly nights.

You let him lie upon your chest. Link fell in love with your heart around the same time he fell in love with you. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, but you lifted it with ease, letting him find peace and relaxation and true rest in your arms.

Link’s arms tremble, struggling to hold you upright. His hands are sweating, and shaking. They’re red, stained by you, staring at him with those eyes full of every moment you’ve ever had with him.

You’re only still standing thanks to the sword still glowing within your chest, perfectly piercing. Link can’t find it in himself to move, to look away from your face as the darkness, the Calamity flakes away like dried blood in the water he’ll desperately scrub his arms clean in.

Your eyes carry each night spent tangled together. Each battle is spent back to back, you shooting while he fights with sword and shield. They hold the unveiling of the Master Sword, how you held him after the sword nearly killed him.

Your pride, your kindness, your love, all of it pours from you, onto Link.

The moment everything is clear, the moment you are you again, Link pulls the sword back. It makes a horrible, wet noise as it slides out of your chest. You collapse to the ground like a rag doll. Link tosses the Master Sword aside without a care, racing to kneel at your side.

A pool of blood immediately forms beneath you. Link is digging bottle after bottle from his Sheikah Slate inventory. Fairies spill out into the air, their pink dust frosting over your scrunched face. You’re gasping for air, choking on the potions Link pours down your throat.

But the wound won’t heal.

Link cradles the back of your neck, another bottle at your lips. He doesn’t remember feeling so scared before, so helpless, hopeless.

“Sor-ry.” His raw throat grinds out, desperate for you to know that this isn’t what he wanted. He wanted his house in Hateno to be filled with your dumb jokes and laughter. He wanted roughhousing and kisses and love. You taught him about those things.

Kisses in the dark, comforting and new and scary and good. Hugs and bodies intertwined, no expectations but to stay and to hold. He wanted a wedding like Bolson’s, eventually. He wanted to confirm to you that yes, he loves you. He has all this time, and he wants to love you properly now.

So many plans, so many dreams.

And now you lay bleeding out on the ground because he couldn’t protect you.

Promises of ‘together’ fall away, slipping out of his grasp as you spit up blood and potion, red red red all over.

You must be suffering, his failures weighing heavier on you than anyone. You, who shouldn’t even be here, who was dragged here because of him. Link whimpers your name as you smile.

You smile, and Link loves you desperately.

But love is not enough this time. And even as Zelda places a hand on his back, body still warm from heavenly power, Link feels devoid. All is gone.

All he cared about, anyway.

#besties tag #loz x reader #botw x reader #link x reader #legend of zelda x reader #tw.death

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diaryofanidiot · 11 months

Text

The Neverland Curse

Cw: Deaging, food mentions

Taglist: @avatarofstars @botensbabygirl @mothmothmothmoth @akira-chan8 @rinizitos @pastatownsystem @stabbylikesnukes @urhigh42 @princessparadisebaby @abadonkori @lucifersimp333 @coffeeandtealol @maxx0inwonderland @letsblazewolf @simpinginthecorner @kittycatinblue @thatguyfromforest @sheep-from-rad @romaissaa @doomcandy @lilnoobie

Chapter list: 1 2 3 <4> 5 6

A/N: the taglist is getting many request so pls submit them to the inbox. If I missed you in this chapters taglist, shoot me a dm and I'll fix it ^-^

No first draft. We die like pirates >:) pls notify me of any typos tho lol

Breakfast was full of strange foods like dinner the night before. That's not to say they weren't yummy, but I was starting to miss normal food that didn't risk turning to flames or frost in your mouth. Needless to say but they wouldn't let me eat any magical foods like that.

I tugged on Belphie's cardigan to wake him. His face was practically in his food.

"What is it?" He mused, peeking open an eye towards me.

"Luci said I gotta meet more people... are they scary?" I whispered, looking up to make certain I didn't catch the attention of the raven haired man at the head of the table.

"Not at all," Belphie hummed sleepily. "Now eat your food."

"He's right. You have a busy day, so eat what you can." Lucifer smirked up at me. Dang it. He heard me after all.

I pushed the pancake-like food around my plate and managed one more bite before hopping up and loudly exclaiming that I was full.

Asmo was quick to follow my statement with a wet wipe to my face. I squirmed away as he fussed over my sticky syrup covered cheeks and hands.

I felt his cold hand pat my cheek along with a satisfied hum when he finished his smothering, and with that, I bolted toward the adjacent library.

"FREEDOM!" I yelled on my way out, hearing a couple of scattered chuckles behind me. The library was one of my favorite rooms so far. The fire kept it warmer than most of the house, and Lucifer had assorted toys placed in one of the corners for me. It was the first surprise I saw after everyone had woken up.

I ran faster toward the pile and dropped to my knees, sliding the rest of the way excitedly as I marvled the new collection.

Bloo, the already gifted Bear, sat near the pile. Beel suggested he stay there during breakfast so I wouldn't get him messy. Happily, I pulled him to my lap before looking at the collection of dolls, cars, and more.

Before I could even start picking out what I wanted to play with, a loud knock interrupted me and caught my full attention. I froze in place when I heard the door open and unfamiliar voices call out.

Clutching Bloo to my chest, I walked silently toward the opened double doors of the library and peered around the corner to look at the newcomers.

They didn't notice me as they placed their jackets on the hangers. I felt like a super spy.

A feeling of a hand on my head made me jump and look up to see Lucifer towering above me with a soft smile. He placed a finger to his lip on a shushing motion.

Grinning, I mimicked it and nodded. He removed his hand and walked over to the two strangers welcoming them. An adult and another child. Maybe he was my age...

As Lucifer led them to the dining room where everyone resided, I trailed behind quietly. "I'm the best spy ever." I whispered to myself.

The grown-up stranger turned his head around, but I quickly moved behind a column to hide. I saw the faintest smile on his face before he continued walking.

"Gotsta be quiet, Bloo. It's spy time." I whispered once more to my bear before I advanced forward, still hot on their trail.

I hid behind the dining room door, spying on their conversation.

"So you're well informed on the situation?" I heard Lucifer ask. His voice was easy to pick out.

"Solomon told me everything. He said he would be over shortly. Just had a few things to take care of first." I assumed that must be the grown-up stranger.

"Did they really have their memory reverted as well?" That voice was higher in pitch. Must be the other kid.

"Unfortunately so." That was Satan talking now.

"I want to see for myself. Where are they?" The other kid demanded.

I heard somebody chuckle. This super spy needed more information. I peered around the door but quickly shot back behind it when I saw Lucifer's eyes staring in my direction with an amused look on his face.

"I haven't the faintest clue, Luke~" He began. "It's a shame they disappeared when you went through the trouble of bringing those cookies for them..."

Cookies? ....I like cookies.

"I suppose they'll have to go to Beelzebub."

Nu uh. Not on my watch.

I ran past the door, bolting into the room. "No cookies for Bee! I'm right here!" I yelled, jumping into Lucifer's arms. "I can eat them!"

I looked around for the treats while Lucifer adjusted his hold on me. Target spotted. The other kid- er, Luke, was holding the tupperware in his arms and staring at me with an expression of shock. What was his problem?

The stranger grownup smiled kindly and nudged Luke forward. "Didn't you want to give them your gift?" He asked.

Luke hesitated before slowly opening the container and holding it out toward me. I squealed happily and grabbed as many cookies as I could hold and saved one into my mouth.

"Is there's something you want to say, (MC)?" Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow toward me. I thought for a moment before realizing.

"Oh! Tank oo!" I exclaimed, cookie crumbs falling out of my mouth and onto the floor as I spoke.

Lucifer sighed heavily. "You could've swallowed them first..."

I looked at him in confusion before my attention was ripped away by the other guy.

"(MC), I know you don't remember us, so let me introduce myself." The nice stranger smiled at me. "I'm Simeon, and this is Luke."

"Hi Hi." I said before shoving another cookie in my mouth. These were worth blowing my cover.

Lucifer walked my other to the table and sat me in a chair to finish my food, likely growing tired of the mess I was making.

"I'm guessing you're no longer full?" Satan asked me, a smirk emerging on his face.

"There's always room for cookies." I huffed before noticing Beel try to nab one. "Nuh uh! My cookies, Bee."

Belphie frowned at me. "(MC), don't you think you can share just one?' He asked coaxing.

"But they're mine..." I whined.

"Only one? Surely you have plenty."

Hesitantly, I slid a cookie over to Beel. He smiled and thanked me, as did Belphie. I felt a presence behind me and turned around to see Simeon smiling at the situation. He knelt down to my level and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"May I ask you something, (MC?)"

I nodded, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?" His concern was apparent. "I just want to make certain you feel safe."

"Everything is just weird." I admitted. "Everybody keeps talking about a curse and I don't get it."

"That must make you feel left out." He sympathized, running his thumb along my shoulder comfortingly.

I nodded slowly. He gets it.

"Well," He began, straightening back up. "I can assure you that once we have it all figured out. You'll be the first to know. I know Solomon is excited to see you again."

"When is soo-man coming?"

"Soon." He assured before walking off. Shortly after, the adults went to talk again. The only people left in the dining room were Luke, Levi, who was currently gaming on his phone and in his own world, and myself.

Getting an idea, I rushed to the library where my toys resided and grabbed a few dress up toys before sprinting back. My feet made loud, pattering noises on the hardwood floor.

"Luke!" I yelled excitedly. "Wanna play??"

It was exciting having another kid in the house. Finally someone to play with.

Luke frowned. "Play?"

"Mhm!" I nodded, holding out one of the costumes. "You can be a pirate and I get to be the captain!"

He seemed to hesitate, looking around for the other adults. "(MC)... we aren't the same age, you know?"

"That's okay! I'm four and a half." I grinned.

He looked lost, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm over a thousand."

I blinked before giggling. "You can't be a thousand! You don't even look like a grandpa!"

I heard Levi snort in amusement so I turned around to see him finally paying attention. He got up and moved to kneel beside the two of us. "He's not joking, (MC). In human years... I think that makes him ten years old?" He guessed.

I looked back and Luke, then to Levi, and back to Luke once more. Ten made more sense. "So you just.. pretend your a thousand?"

Luke looked to Levi, seeming to silently ask him a question. If he could pretend then so could I.

"Well," I argued. "Then I'm a thousand and one and there's no more bigger numbers, so I win!' I stuck out my tongue to drive my point.

Levi sighed with a smile and looked at Luke apologetically. "Just go play with them. It'll be fun. Just until Solomon gets here, okay?"

Luke gave in and took the costume, putting on the eyepatch. I grinned and put on my own pirate hat before dragging him to the library to play.

<------------------------>

"Luke, (MC)?" Simeon called from the hallway, soon emerging in the doorway. He smiled at the sight of us.

I was on top of our 'Ship' (the couch), looking through my 'telescope' (a paper towel roll I had convinced Beel to give me). I pointed the scope towards the door and set my sights on the newcomer.

"First Mate Luke!" I cried, pointing towards the intruder. "A bad guy who wants to take our treasure!"

"On it, Captain!" Luke had immersed himself into the game, reveling in the chance to be the kid he really was. He jumped to the floor and pointed his foam sword at Simeon.

"You'll never take it while I'm still breathing!" He cried.

"Oh really? Two against one?" He grinned happily. "That doesn't sound very fair~"

Simeon peered around the doorway, motioning someone over. Solomon walked into view.

"Two of them!" I cried, shuffling off the 'ship' to aide my first mate.

"Arrrg!" Solomon growled, instantly adapting to the game. "I'll take the Captain while you take the other."

I watched as Simeon dodge Luke's attacks before noticing Solomon coming after me. I squealed and ran behind the couch, holding the toilet paper roll in one hand.

This could be a sword too... maybe a telescope that turns into a sword.

I held out the 'sword' as Solomon raced around the couch toward me and made a swinging motion toward his leg.

His hand flung to his thigh as he cried out in mock pain. "Man down! Man down!'

Grinning, I plunged my 'sword' into his belly. Solomon fell to the ground a put a hand in the air, seemingly reaching out to something.

"I see.." He winced. "A light at the end of the tunnel..."

In the meantime, Simeon had knocked the sword out of Luke's hands and was now holding him hostage. "Captain (MC)!"

I looked up from a dying Solomon to see Simeon holding the foam sword to Luke. "You've mortally wounded my friend! Now, hand over the treasure or the same goes for your first mate!"

Solomon tried not to crack a smile during his mock death scene but failed. My eyes widened. Luke was in trouble!

"(MC)!" Luke cried. "I'll be fine! Protect the treature!"

"Arg! But I want both!" I ran toward Simeon, swinging the paper tow- er, sword, down on his wrist. He dropped the sword and held out his arm in front of him.

"You cut off me good hand!" He cried, dropping to his knees. I grabbed Luke's hand and ran back to the ship.

"We won!" I grinned, jumping up and down on couch cushings.

Simeon and Solomon looked at each other before laughing and getting off the floor.

"Alright, you guys win." Simeon put his hands up in defeat.

I removed my captain's hat, unable to contain my giggles as I did. Solomon reached under my arms and hoisted me up.

"Cmon, the others are waiting for us."

I groaned in frustration, wanting to keep playing.

"You can play some more later." He patted my back and carried me out of the room, Simeon and Luke following close behind.

Quite the crowd had gathered. Little did I know, it was all about to be explained.

#obey me #obey me agere #obey me shall we date #omswd #agere fic #omswd agere #obey me au

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1luckyrubberducky · 2 years

Text

CW: vry spoopy, maybe too creppy 4 u

lol inspired by @bloo-the-dragon 's post

#EKEKEKEKEKEKEK #lol wiggle butt #fnaf moondrop #fnaf moon #moon is cat #moondrop #moon x y/n #moon x reader

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fanfic-gallery · 2 years

Note

Can i request smut prompt “I never imagined you to be so sensitive, but I love it.” with Beelzebub and fem reader? <3 [if not fem then genderfluid]

First time? [NSFW MDNI]

✎ Beelzebub x Reader

✎ The ‘devil’s drink’ a specialized drink that the ramen house Beel had been going to recently have all it’s regulars slamming heaps of cash on the table.. but what’s all this hype about?

✎ Tags: smut, fem! reader, succubus! reader, client x prostitute dynamic

✎ CW: porn with plot, dom! reader, sub! beel, slight non-con/dub-con, handjob, indications of blowjob

: ̗̀➛ Manager's/Author's note: Gosh, my writings are getting sloppier as time goes on- apologies in advance（；´д｀）ゞ [Just a reminder for those who want to participate in the 100+ followers event, please hand in your request by 6 June!]

“Beel, where are you going?”

“Out for ramen.”

“This late at night??”

The daily travels out town all started when he stumbled across a little back alley restaurant in the outskirts of the city. Despite it’s small popularity, when put through reviews on the web it was met with praise for service and cuisine. How could he say no to that?

That’s when he met you, a young succubus that decided to dedicate your life time to run a this small establishment. You were amazing company during his meals, your cheery nature and humor always made his bowl of freshly cooked noodles a little more tastier every time. Though he does wonder why you wore your kimono like that, the collar slipping further and further displaying more and more of the doughy cleavage of your chest.

He does have to be honest, he doesn’t mind the show..

But as your friend, he does advise not to-

The more he visits, secrets unravel. Only a few days ago did he figure out there was a hidden menu, filled to the brim with other set meals he could enjoy and devour. Through many regulars he found out the restaurant’s specialty was called the ‘devil’s drink’ which in term as they say was quite refreshing to most, and ever spicy when time goes on.

Beel was quite intrigued of course, especially sneaking glances of customers climbing up to the second floor, he had been quite captivate of what’s up there, the sounds of sudden banging and creaking of the ceiling boards furthering his suspicions. Even after asking you about, you just shrug it off, claiming it’s just staff cleaning infestations disturbing business nowadays.

But does the thoughts in his head really spoil his appetite..

Maybe he should just try this drink once..

It can’t be that bad, right?

Right..?

“Wait.. didn’t you say this was a bAR-” You giggled at his little gasp in shock, tongue licking your lips staining them in saliva, lustful eyes conjoined with a malicious smirk. Beel turned, lilac gaze sunk in confusion, demanding your actions be explained which in turn only earned him a chuckle instead.

“You ordered the ‘devil’s drink’, or am I wrong?” Beel slowly nodded, arms trying to retract but to no avail. Without much though, you swiftly reached for his sweats, tugging his belt to the side and dragging down the clothing. Your other free hand trailed beneath his shirt, tracing his toned skin, circling the rim of one of his nipples before pinching at the soft bud with a moderate strength of force.

“hah.. y-Y/N, what are you doing~”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to ravish you, my dear~ From the first day you step foot into this place, I knew I had to make you my new little toy~”

“W-wait.. this place isn’t a- ah~”

“Ting ting ting, this is a brothel, you silly~ we just happen to sell food to lure more customers in, lure more innocent flies into our web~”

You spun the male around, hands hastily pushing at his coat and overalls, ‘causing the demon to squirm and shimmy under your touch, in terms pushing his saggy pants down further. Your eyes couldn’t help but dilate at the vast bulge protruding from his undergarments, index lingering and drawing it’s shape through the cloth.

Beel stared in embarrassment, face so flushed he could explode from how much his blood is boiling within, saliva threatening to spill out from his constant groaning and griddling in his bottom lip between his jaws. Which intently didn’t help when your fingers gripped onto his fairly lubed cock, pumping it little by little, enveloping his flushed skin in the warmth of your palms.

“Oooh~ I actually expect something small, but ohhh this passed all my expectations~~~”

You smothered your chest against him, the collar of your kimono drooping with every inch closer, drawing in the drooling demon into a heat dance of tongues. Beel groaned in defeat, his will to fight withering away, frame sinking further beneath you when your pace on his dick increased. Slowly but surely leading to white creamy fluids drenching your hand and the wooden flooring.

“I never imagined you to be so sensitive.. ” Beel huffed away from the sudden climax, lilac eyes shakily reading your next movements. Knees completely kneeling on the ground before you, grabbing hold of the demon’s waist, positioning his head right in between your flushed lips.

“But I love it~~~” You squealed, feeling your dripping cunt pulsing in ecstasy. You shuffle closer, littering Beel’s exposed thighs with sloppy kisses and blossoming hickeys, leading and trailing towards his soaked yet painfully stiff cock.

“Don’t worry Beelie, I’ll be at your service as long as you like, even if this package is a one per order deal~~~”

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adiosmotherfck · 1 year

Text

"Shadow-1 Goes Dark"

Phillip "Shadow-1" Graves x fem!OC

Chapter 2

She is one of the best snipers in the forces, getting appointed to Task Force 141 was one of the biggest achievements in her life, everything changes when a mission goes wrong and she is met with a choice that is questioning her loyalty and morals. What or should I say who will she choose? That's up to Alice "James" Warren to do.

cw: typical cod violence, blood, needles, swearing, and that's it I think

word count: 2,6k

part one available here

also available on AO3 here

“Bloo…”

nothing.

“Emerg…”

nothing.

“Fuck…”

nothing.

“Shad…”

nothing.

Darkness was a consuming state, once you are in, there is barely a way out. Alice knew it better than anyone, seeing people getting permanently consumed by it, they never came back. Looks like she was an exception, her eyes slowly opened as she was getting used to the light and the numb feeling over her whole body.

She tried to move, but pangs of pain were getting through the numbing sensation causing her to grimace and abandon her attempts for now. When she got used to the light, the grey walls were the first thing she saw. She would start worrying over being in an unknown room after being attacked by the enemy, but her bandaged stomach under what looked like a plain white t-shirt nudged her brain in a different direction. Why would they keep her alive, she was shot, bleeding and most probably one foot in the grave?

She turned her head to the side, the grey walls were pressing on her, making her feel like suffocating. The room wasn’t big or flashy, dark grey walls, some plain lamp on the ceiling giving just enough light to make her visible in her bed with various tubes connected to her arms. The beeping noise of the machines would definitely give her a headache if she wasn’t so numb.

Maybe it was a hallucination, or a blur caused by her blood loss, and she was still laying in that scarlet snow, somewhere in the Finnish forest, with enemy forces celebrating the win over them just down the road. She closed her eyes, she wasn’t used to feeling so weak and vulnerable, with her patched up stomach. She had scars before, not one, not two, more. Stab wounds, gunshots, explosive shrapnel on her forearm, her skin has seen it all.

Her gaze dropped down at the white shirt, that had a few droplets of dried blood on it, probably got through her bandages. Where was she? It wasn’t a hospital, it wasn’t anything she was used to with Task Force, this place was completely unfamiliar and had a weird atmosphere to it.

Her senses prickled when the door opened, and in the shadows of the light she saw two figures, one of a man and one a woman to his side. She was on high alert, her body being used to take the defensive strategy against all the unrecognizable and potential threats, but right now she could hardly move her hands, or even think of a weapon or how to protect herself. She was there completely disarmed and opened to whoever it was.

Her heart skipped an unfamiliar beat when the man came closer to her bed, and she finally saw his face. Dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and all so familiar scar on the right cheek. Phillip Graves was standing near her bed, looking at her with what seemed like worry in his eyes. She hated when people pitied her, she hated being vulnerable, she hated not being in touch with her surroundings, when her own body was failing her, her consciousness returning but she didn’t know for how long it will stay.

When she lowered her eyes to his mouth, she understood that he was talking to her, snapping out of her thoughts, she blinked a few times at him, focusing on what he was saying.

“…rren?”

She caught the ending of his word, while he turned to the woman who was still standing at the door “Are you sure she didn’t suffer any damage to the head?” he asked her and glanced back at Alice, taking in her state.

“Yes, sir. No damage to the head received by Miss Warren.” The woman spoke, her voice trembling a little no matter the confidence she put into her words. It was obvious she was under his command, but was she afraid of him? Alice was too tired and disoriented to think about it for any longer.

“Why is she not responding then? You must check again.” He threw over his shoulder at the nurse, looking Alice over, his hands on his hips. Was he looking concerned? Maybe, it was hard to tell.

“I’m fine.” She said, tilting her head to the side, to move her neck muscles a little, it was too sore for her liking, and she hissed.

“Sergeant? You hearin’ me?” He leaned a little closer to check if she is actually listening to him. She closed her eyes for a second, bringing her hand to her face and rubbing her eyes a little. She hated too much attention on her, especially in such vulnerable state.

“Yeah, Graves, solid copy if you prefer.” She sighed and looked back up at him. His blue eyes found hers and silence fell over the room for a few moments, as the man was bracing himself for what he was about to say next, he didn’t know why he would rethink his next words, but something in his chest was holding him back. It was strong enough to keep him silent only for a few seconds, so he continued.

“I don’t want to.. jump back to work immediately.” His eyes slid over her body, focusing on her stomach and her leg that was being held firmly by the medical cast, and then he met her eyes again. Her eyes that were telling him enough to understand that he shall continue. “There’s been a notice of your administrative separation, Alice.”

These words had a sobering up effect on her, apart from the fact that she wasn’t even drunk to begin with. Her mind cleared up a little, words ‘Administrative Separation notice’ echoing off the walls of her skull and jumping right back into her mind. They couldn’t possibly fire her, for what? She hasn’t broken any laws or disobeyed any orders. She got hit on a mission, that wasn’t a war crime, was it?

Graves watched her carefully, he practically saw the thinking process behind her eyes, how she was trying to put the pieces together, but they didn’t match. They weren’t close but he often observed her during missions, watching her moves and how she does her work. He was always surprised to see her quick and cold work; she didn’t think twice about pulling the trigger. She has thought about it thrice before coming to the battlefield, she always knew who her friends were and who she couldn’t let walk away from the field.

These were some of the reasons the notice of her being fired sounded weird, why would they do that?

“There was a meeting, Task Force and all the big bad guys from up there,” he pointed at the ceiling indicating he meant the directing and commanding part of the forces, “They decided you were unfit for work in the team and that your action.. how to call it? Were unprofessional.” He concluded.

Unfit for the work in the team? They decided that? Her eyes grew heavier, her mind wasn’t at its full capacity yet to think so much on such matters. She didn’t want to believe in it, she never gave them a reason to doubt her actions. Her eyes widened a little, just enough for Graves to catch that, making a mental note of her behavior.

She didn’t respond to him; she simply didn’t know what to tell him. How does one react to almost dying, then getting fired in such a short amount of time?

The thought that hit her right after, was that she had nothing left now. She had to give up her rank, her work was taken away from her, apart from her mother back in the UK she didn’t have anything left of her own. Where was she supposed to go now? What was she supposed to do now? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, questions filled her head, that slowly started to ache, she had too many questions and no answers, which was the state she hated.

“Where am I?” if she wanted to start solving the situation, she had to start with the basics.

“United States, Shadow Company headquarters, medical wing.” If she was thinking clearer, she’d roll her eyes at his what sounded proud and half amused tone.

But what was she doing in States? She was in Finland with everyone else, including Graves, for how long has she been out?

“It’s been a few days since your.. incident. Mission was successful. That’s all that I can tell you considering your position now.” He said, sitting down on the chair next to her bed, facing her, looking, watching, waiting for her reaction. He didn’t know why, but something in him wanted to get a reaction out of her. She looked too collected and too calculating for her own good, he couldn’t help but want to catch those micro expressions on her face, her slightly widening eyes, her furrowed brows, the empty stare while she was inside her thoughts not listening to the surrounding world. He didn’t want to admit it, but she intrigued him in more than military way, yes, he was interested in her skills, combat, and abilities, but there was more of that human part. How did she react to different situations, did she react at all? What was she doing when something went wrong? Would she leave her team behind if it granted her freedom and helped her survive? He wanted to get inside her head and look at the world with her eyes, to understand how it is being that human.“Why am I here?” she broke the silence staring at the wall in front of her.

“Well, you got hit, we were nearby, whoever attacked you left probably, heard the heli getting close.”

“Why am I here?”

He was silent for a few seconds, making her think the answer to the question either didn’t exist or was too bad for her to know. A few moments later, he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, was he nervous? That wasn’t a typical behavior for him, both she and him knew that.

“They left without you.”

And that was enough for her pounding headache to hit her with the full strength of it, making her close her eyes and rub her forehead. They left her. Left without her. Her radio was destroyed, lost in the snow during the fight, there was no opportunity to reach out to her, but she wasn’t that far away? It would be a quick walk up the hill to the place she occupied with her riffle, she knew them well enough to know they wouldn’t leave a team member out there, without checking. She has worked with Ghost on other missions previously, even before Task Force 141, and she knew that the man put lives and safety of those under him higher than his own. Would he leave her out there after her radio silence and the lack of sniper assistance?

Her thoughts flew back to a blurry memory of her, Ghost, and Soap in a small on road shop in the middle of nowhere, trying to figure out what “Maito” meant. Soap didn’t want to accept any of their suggestions, clearly teasing them both. He got Ghost grunting a silent “MacTavish shut up.” After the cashier sent them all a half bored half death glare look.

“Aiotko ostaa sen vai vain tuijottaa sitä?”

Three pairs of eyes stared at her with different expressions, trying to understand what she wanted from them, but miserably failing, assuming that it was Finnish and neither of them knew it. Soap put the bottle back and they all decided to leave the shop, not getting into the mess with the angry cashier.

“But that’s not all.” Graves words brought her back to reality, out of her thoughts. She turned to face him, expecting to hear more about how she’s been discharged and will write her a bill for occupying a bed in his medical wing.

“I’ve heard about your work, seen your records. You’ve been discharged from Task Force and your post, so I am willing to make you an offer. You don’t have to give your answer now, but I think Shadow Company would benefit from a soldier like you.”

This day couldn’t get weirder than it already was, could it? Maybe the end of the world or a meteor could add some spice, but for now this was more than enough to mark this day as the one that doesn’t make sense at all.

“On what terms?”

“Heal, go through selection process, show a few of your tricks, that’s it, you’re in.”

She didn’t reply, her mind occupied with all the pros and cons of the situation. She had nowhere to go, she had no one to turn to, she didn’t want to bother her mother who was already used to her life without her daughter in it. He was offering her a place to work, live and train, guard a few politicians, and scare bad guys on the field.

Perhaps it was the state she was in, or just her feeling of vulnerability she wanted to hide so badly, she didn’t know why but she didn’t see how agreeing to his offer would hurt her. Maybe he was using the situation to get her on board with him, maybe he lied about her notice and set her up for something she didn’t know, but right now she didn’t have anything to lose either way, so she decided to act and figure out the details later.

Giving him a curt nod of her head, she voiced her agreement, taking him by surprise just a bit. He expected her to agree, without taking any time to weight the situation and process the actions of the last few days. Maybe he offered her that today exactly for that reason, he took her agreement with a nod of his own.

“You need to heal your leg and stomach; you can stay here during that time if you want. You’ll have a few guys run back and forth in here, ask them if you need something. Later, when you are back in the shape you will get a tour of the place and a deeper insight in your future process.” He stood, giving her a smile that looked too cold even for him.

Neither of them doubted she will pass the selection with flying colors and will join the company on merit, showcasing her skills and tricks to people who were apparently to rate her.

She accepted the fact that she could’ve just done the biggest mistake of her life, throwing herself into the unknown without proper evaluation and getting more information on the matter. She would care if she had something to lose with that, but as her most valuable things in her life were a pair of dog tags and her riffle, which she probably lost in the fight back there in Finland, she thought that it can’t get any worse. At least for her.

“Welcome home, Shadow 2-2.”

translation of the Finnish phrase "Are you going to buy it or just stare at it?

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #simon riley #mw2 2022 #phillip graves #cod mobile #cod mwii #shadow company #phillip graves imagine #phillip graves mw2 #phillip graves fic #imagine #phillip graves x oc

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stylusscomms · 5 months

Text

!! CW ;; Mentions of Blood & Gore & Murder !!

FNAF Movie Themed ID = prns & ttls

↳ personal reqst

Suggested Prns:// anima/animatronic ,, ro/robot ,, gho/ghost ,, bloo/blood ,, spring/springlock ,, nosta/nostalgia

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Suggested Ttls:// The Newest Animatronic ,, [prn] Who Always Comes Back ,, One of The Crying Children ,, The Animatronic With a Mind of Its Own ,, The One Who Comes Alive During The Night

#pronouns-study.com #the-royal-title.com #pronoun suggestions #pronouns list #title suggestions #title list

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theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 10 months

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Oasis: Day Eighteen (continued; part two)

Note from the author: Sorry it’s been a long time since I updated this (I even forgot what’s going on LOL). So, uh, if you, too, have forgotten the contents of anything between Day Seventeen — Day Eighteen (Continued), you might want to reread them because this contains details present in specifically those parts. (Un)Happy reading!

CW: Heavy talk of real-life religious doctrine… this will continue on throughout the book in varying degrees.

…

When I pressed her further as to what kind of convention it was, she said that I could go to the next one with her and see for myself… in exactly one year’s time. So it seems sure that I will be here for at least that long, or longer… for what purpose, I do not know.

I took her unwillingness to answer the first question as an opportunity to ask another, “Why are there tropical plants growing in the same place tundra animals are living? What is the nature of this place?”

“The whole Earth is a garden” She spoke as if I should have known this already, “There is no place without food because that is the way our planet was designed.”

“You say ‘designed’ as if you mean by a god—“ The peridot eyes flicked up at me with renewed interest. Obviously I had struck a chord with her, “…what is your faith?”

She paused for a long while before answering, taking time to clasp her hands and stare into the middle distance with her chin rested on them. I found it odd that she would have to enter a state of such deep thought to answer, what I thought, was a fairly simple question. Most people I’ve met were eager to discuss their beliefs with you, providing a snap answer as to what religion they belonged to, and why they have faith in it. However, I have met a few people who became angry even at the mention of beliefs, taking your honest question as an attack on their person. “Have I said something wrong?” I asked, hoping that was not the case with Sophia.

“If you mean to ask ‘Have you offended me?’ No; you haven’t… but you have said something very, very wrong. You should know by now that there is no such thing as ‘faith’ anymore.”

“So… you’re a— you’re all—“ I stumbled on a word I, for the life of me, could not remember, despite having identified with it myself at one time.

“No, you don’t understand: All faith is obsolete.”

“But that — whatever it’s called — is a complete lack of faith in God, or—“ I was getting frustrated with myself for not being able to remember, “a god… images.”

“Dulce, you were a scientist (assuming you haven’t forgotten that too). How often did the general understanding of science change over the years?”

“Quite a lot. Every year, something new is discovered. That can sometimes change how we do things; or sometimes it confirms we’re on the right track.”

“And if something that was once a theory became confirmed; was it not recognized as scientific fact?”

“Well… I guess you could describe it that way; but that’s not quite—“

“Regardless, once you had seen something to be true, believing turned to knowing, correct?”

I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her about the intricacies of scientific research when I saw she had no knowledge on the subject. She was driving at a different point, albeit, using an ill-fitting example to explain it; so I merely waited for her to finish with the example so I could learn whatever she wished to tell me, “I think I know what you mean.”

“We, the people of Earth, have seen definitive proof that God exists. We have all but seen God in person. We need no faith.”

I folded my arms, not so much out of doubt than of curiosity, “And what, exactly, did you all see?”

She raised an eyebrow at me, then stared at the picture on the wall, reciting something very familiar, “‘I saw also an angel standing in the sun, and he cried out with a loud voice and said to all the birds that fly in midheaven: ‘Come here, be gathered together to the great evening meal of God, so that you may eat the flesh of kings…” I started violently, the blood drained from my face. Sophia saw my reaction, continuing even louder, without pause, “and the flesh of military commanders and the flesh of strong men and the flesh of horses and of those seated on them, and the flesh of all, of freemen as well as of slaves and of small ones and great.’ The nineteenth chapter of Revelation, verses seventeen and eighteen; yesterday you were screaming the passage in your sleep. Would you like to hear more?”

I didn’t realize that, in my night terrors, I had actually screamed the words aloud, and felt briefly, as a result, like Sophia had invaded my mind and rummaged around in my memories. She had recited that which I could barely remember four words of, perfectly, in its entirety. To say I was horrified would have been a severe understatement. I must have said yes to her offer, because she continued:

“‘And I saw the wild beast and the kings of the earth and their armies gathered together to wage war against the one seated on the horse and against his army. And I saw the wild beast and the kings of the earth and their armies gathered together to wage war against the one seated on the horse and against his army.

And the wild beast was caught, and along with it the false prophet that performed in front of it the signs with which he misled those who received the mark of the wild beast and those who worship its image. While still alive, they both were hurled into the fiery lake that burns with sulfur. But the rest were killed off with the long sword that proceeded out of the mouth of the one seated on the horse. And all the birds were filled with their flesh.’ End chapter.”

Sophia smiled a reminiscent smile, “So, Dulce, whatever you remembered in that dream of yours is what we all witnessed: total annihilation of a corrupt and evil system. But not only that,” she held up a finger, moving her head emphatically to the benefit of her point, “We have also witnessed its restoration. That is why we need no faith. Faith is the assured expectation of what is hoped for. We are neither expecting, hoping, nor wanting, for anything any longer. Paradise Earth as we now intimately know it, is the spiritual oasis after a long time thirsting in the desert. The act of faith is complete; we have drunk life’s water free.”

…

Tagging: @astudyinpanda@oldwoolhat@jiminy-cricket-but-gay@gorelabs

@straight-to-the-pain

@hallowgendered

@nova-3-the-exo

@bitalene

#Hehe I put the title of the story in the words and it go BRRR #anyway let’s ignore the fact that Sophia would get counseled within an inch of her LIFE if she ever approached someone like this #epistolary #sci fi #horror #dystopian #religious horror

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mothmxwhump · 1 year

Text

CW/TW: Pet whumpees, conditioning, multiple whumpees, whipping, nonbinary whumpee, degradation, BBU

The three trainees sit huddled together on the ground, clinging together for warmth. Eachwears the same outfit: gray shorts, a white tee, and a steel collar with a blinking light and sharp prongs.

“Berry. Stand.”

Berry, a twenty-year-old with dark blue hair that’s begun to turn brown at the roots, slowly rises to their feet. One of the boys sitting next to them, a redhead with sharp features, snarls.

“Leave Felix alone, they didn’t do anything to you fuckers!”

Berry whips around to face the redhead, Mars, with wide eyes. “P-please, please don’t-- ah!”

Their trainer smacks Berry’s head from behind, making them stumble out of surprise.

The third, Pickle, winces and curls into Mars’s side.

“Mars. Remove your shirt and kneel,” the trainer snaps. When Mars begins to protest, she adds, “Or Berry and Pickle will take your punishment for you.”

Mars grits his teeth and kneels down, yanking off his shirt and tossing it aside.

“Now, tell me the rules you broke.”

“Seriously?”

“Every word that comes out of your mouth that isn’t a rule is another lash, mutt.”

“Um, I argued with you. I--We’re not supposed to talk back to our trainers or prospective owner.”

“Keep going. I don’t have all day.”

“I, um, cursed, I’m supposed to stop that, and, uh, I called F--” He winces. “I called Berry by their old name. We’re our numbers unless and until we have an owner who gives us names.”

“Good boy, Mars. Pickle, you and Berry are to report to your next group session, a guard outside will escort you. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The two say in unison. Pickle casts a worried glance to Mars before following Berry out the door.

…

“...Do you think he’s okay?” Berry murmurs, quiet enough that the trainer doesn’t shock them for speaking.

“I, um, I don’t know. He’s, um, a fighter for a reason, though. And we’ve all gotten through the whip before,” Pickle responds softly. He keeps his eyes carefully trained on the veggies he’s cutting for a meal neither of them will eat.

“But--”

The oven timer goes off, and Pickle rushes over to turn it off before the trainer yells at him for the noise.

The smell of the freshly cooked chicken only serves to make Berry hungrier than normal, and for a moment they consider trying to sneak just a tiny bite of the carrots they’re cutting into coins. They shake the idea from their head and help Pickle garnish the chicken with them instead.

The trainer, a tall woman whose heels make loud clacks as she walks down the rows of small training kitchens, stops to examine their work.

“Hm. Both of you are for the same prospective, correct?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“The cutting on the carrots is sloppy and you need to remove rosemary from its stem before use. Other than that it would be fine.”

“I, um, understand, miss. It won’t happen again. Should we report back to our primary handler for correction?” Pickle tilts his head slightly.

The woman sighs. “No, your prospective has made an appointment to observe both of you, as well as the guard dog you’ve been training with.”

“I understand, miss.” Berry nods their head.

The trainer shoos them off. “Go to your cell and await further instructions from your handler.”

The trainees obey quietly, bare feet padding through the hall. Neither even considers the exits, although they know by now which of the unmarked doors lead out of the training area of the facility. Eventually, the two arrive at the door of their cell. A small card is hung on the door with their designations and numbers.

“Mars”, 109413: Protection Primary, platonic secondary

“Pickle”, 207610: Domestic

“Berry”, 190818: Platonic Primary, domestic secondary

Berry pushes the door open, padding into the plain white room. Mars is laying on the floor, red blood splattered all across the floor and his pale skin. Their primary handler, Handler Garten, stands above him, analyzing her work.

His back is all torn up, open gashes still spilling blood. Smaller splatters blend in with his freckles, dotted like stars across his shoulders and cheeks. He barely manages to push himself up to look at Pickle and Berry, who both dive to help him sit upright. Handler Garten glares at them.

“All three of you are filthy. You’ll need to be cleaned up before you meet your prospective.”

#pet whump #whump #BBU #Mars #Berry #Pickle

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