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#i will never die i will never stop killing you
holylulusworld · 3 days
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Gun for hire (2)
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Summary: You’re his next target. Nothing else. Right?
Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader
Warnings: hiring a killer, Lloyd being Lloyd, being followed, sunshine reader, awestruck Lloyd, also annoyed Lloyd, character’s death, blood, safe-napping?
A/N: Another chapter this week.
Gun for hire (1)
Gun for hire masterlist
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Lloyd watches you walk toward the other side of the counter to sit down and dig into your food. You chew slowly and close your eyes to savor the taste of the last food you’ll ever eat.
He pokes the pasta with his fork, brows knitted together as he tries to find out why he hasn’t killed you yet.
“How did you…” you begin but stop to eat another spoonful of pasta. “How did you become a hired killer?” You look at Lloyd. “I won’t tell anyone. After I’m done eating, you’ll kill me so…please tell me anything. This is the last conversation I’ll ever have.”
Lloyd drops the fork to look at the gun in his other hand. “I tried with the CIA, but that wasn’t my style. Before they do something you must write an essay or shit.”
You giggle when he makes a face. “So…you’re with the CIA?”
He sighs. “I just told you that I tried, and it wasn’t for me. I have my own business now, sunshine. No boss ordering me around. I’m the boss, and order people around.”
“Hmm…sounds interesting,” you nod thoughtfully before shoveling more food into your mouth. You chew slowly to think about your life, and what you want to achieve before you die. “Do you like it? Killing people for money?”
Lloyd looks at you, furrowing his brows. He never thought much about his profession. Lloyd loves money, and to be in charge. But does he like killing people?
He thinks about your question before a smirk appears on his face. “I like it very much, sunshine.” Lloyd steps closer to you to stand right next to you. “I love it when they beg, and whimper. Do you know how good it feels to end some douchebag's life?”
“Interesting,” you nod slowly. “Will you enjoy killing me too?” You look him in the eyes, stubbornly holding his gaze. “And if so, why? I never harmed you or tried to make your life harder. It was my boyfriend deciding to hire you.”
“Fuck’s sake, you’re annoying and too friendly. Why do you still smile at me while I stand right next to you, my gun unlocked?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Why not? You only try to do your job. Even if I could never harm anyone, I guess someone must do your job too.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he snarls. “I’m about to kill you, woman! Did you realize that this is not a joke? Is your head empty or something?”
“I got that you are here to end my life,” you slip off the stool to place your hand on his chest, soothingly running it up and down. “The question is, are you ready to kill me? You look a little unsure.”
“What?” He hiccups. “I’m never unsure…what?”
“Is this your first time?” You look at him and smile softly. “Did you never kill an innocent woman before, Lloyd? Do you want me to make things easier for you?”
His chest heaves up and down, and he feels his patience wear thin. You are making him crazy, and Lloyd doesn’t know how to handle the situation.
Can he kill you? If he kills you, he will break one of his rules. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t pay him. Lloyd doesn’t have an assignment and no reason to kill you.
Maybe he can end you – if only to stop you from making him doubt his intentions when it comes to you. Now that you have seen his face, he has got another problem.
“My first time?” He grins now. “Cupcake, I killed people when you were still in your nappies. What I do cannot be taught.”
You giggle. For a guy with a gun, Lloyd is funny. “You’re not that old. And…didn’t the CIA train you?” You knit your brows together, thinking hard. “I think I saw a movie…or was it a show…”
“Sunshine, we are not in a movie,” he growls and pats his thigh with his gun. “What is going on in your head? Why are you not like…screaming and crying.”
“Do you want me to cry for you,” you ask. “Would this make you feel better, Lloyd?” You smile sweetly and pat his chest. “How can I make you calm?”
“What are you doing?” He murmurs while you keep on touching him. People usually shy away when you step into their private space. Mainly when you are a stranger.
If you want to survive this day, you must outsmart Lloyd. He’s not used to people being kind to him, especially when he tries to kill someone. You’re nice, and kind – not stupid. You don’t want to die and will try anything to stay alive.
“I don’t know,” you whisper as you stand on tiptoes. You’re about to distract Lloyd with a kiss when you hear the front door burst open, and bullets hit the wall outside the kitchen.
You shriek and end up on the ground, Lloyd on top of you. “Stay down, and hide behind the counter,” he grunts in your ear. “Go…”
Lloyd rolls off you to scramble to his feet. You admire him for his catlike agility. He slides over the floor to hide behind the wall next to the door while you struggle to get on your knees to crawl behind the counter.
You’re shaking as gunshots hit the kitchen door.
Pressing one hand over your mouth you try not to make a noise.
“Come out, come out!” A man yells. “If you come out, I won’t hurt you, Y/N.” Shit, he came for you, not Lloyd. “I know you are in there. Your lovely boyfriend sent me to keep you safe.”
“Not a word,” Lloyd whispers, as if you are stupid enough to believe the other man came to your rescue. “Shush, cupcake and you will survive the day.”
“Come out, little bird!” The man kicks the door open. It hits the wall with a loud thud, making you flinch. “I know you are here…”
You hear footsteps, and then a loud thud. The man screams in pain and agony. “What the fuck!” You poke your head around the counter to watch him fall to his knees. Blood is spurting from a wound on his side. He desperately tries to stop the blood from leaving his body, but it’s no use.
“No, sweet cheeks,” Lloyd taunts. “Lloyd fucking Hansen.” He kicks the man, laughing as you scream for the first time. “Oh, so you can scream.”
“Y-ou shot him,” you blink at Lloyd. “Why? He wanted to make your job easier.”
“My job,” Lloyd empathizes. “It was my job to kill you. That piece of shit of a boyfriend hired a loser like that to replace me.” He kicks the man again. “You cannot kill my prey!”
“Please stop!” you sniffle. “You don’t have to be cruel.”
“That piece of shit wanted to kill you and you want me to go easy on him?” Lloyd kicks the whining man again. It’s only a matter of time before he bleeds out. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What will it be, pumpkin?”
“Easy—” the man wheezes. He clutches his side while staring at you. “He said it’s easy money. Go in. Make it look like an accident and go out. I didn’t know he hired you too…”
“Well, you just tried to steal my kill so…” Lloyd aims his gun at the man’s head. “You will tell me everything about your client and where I can find him. Make my job easier and I’ll let you go.”
“At his new girl’s home,” the man splutters. “He wanted us to meet up at the park close to her home at midnight after the job here is done.”
“Good boy,” you cover your mouth when Lloyd shoots the man in the head. He doesn't see his end coming and falls to the ground, a stunned expression on his face.
You stare at Lloyd and his gun, scrambling away because you know, he must kill you now too. Your heart races and you try to swallow the bad taste in your mouth.
“FUCK!” Lloyd stomps his foot. “Fuuuck!” He growls in your direction while you try to crawl around the counter. 
Lloyd takes a few deep breaths. He tries to calm down and think about his next steps. While you press your back to the counter and close your eyes to count to ten, Lloyd secures his gun.
“Sunshine, get up,” he snaps his fingers. “Hurry, we don’t have all day.” You gasp when he suddenly stands in front of you. At least he tugs his gun away to hold out his hand for you.  “We need to pack a few things. I don’t know how many incompetent idiots your boyfriend hired.”
You blink.
“Chop, chop sunshine. I need to get you out of here. I won’t let anyone steal my kill,” he grabs you by your arms and brings you to your feet. “Light package, sweet cheeks.”
He guides you out of the kitchen and upstairs, telling you to pack a few things. 
Lloyd gives you twenty minutes before he drags you out of your house, two suitcases and one duffle bag in his arms. He mutters under his breath on his way toward his car. A pretentious black SUV. 
“Get inside, shut your mouth, and don’t make me shoot you. I need to make a few calls on our way home.”
He throws your luggage into the trunk, still muttering as you slip inside the passenger seat. 
You dare not breathe when he opens the door and claims the driver’s seat.
“We will talk about a few rules on our way…”
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finisnihil · 3 days
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2.2 Sunday analysis spoilers ahead
I think a scene that perfectly sums up the Dreammaster and his relationship with Sunday is the one where he’s breaking the news to Sunday that Robin was shot.
Sunday has just appointed head of the Oak Family, given a position of upmost power. The Dreammaster leads in by giving Sunday Robin’s letter and then he innocently asks if she mentioned a stray bullet. A stray bullet? Why would she mention a stray bullet? Robin is safe and happy, wherever could she run into a stray bullet?
Well, a war broke out on that planet she sought it out because of it. For the sake of the Harmony and saving lives… she went to the front lines. You know, where stray bullets tend to shoot down innocent birds?
Well, holy shit, is she okay? Of course I mean it only struck her neck directly but I guess because she is doing such glorious deeds Xipe saw fit let her sing a while longer still. You should write to her- oh no, you stupid boy, only after you finish your pressing work now that you're head, hm?
Let's break down the interaction, shall we?
Firstly, this show was meant to sever Sunday's trust in Robin and isolate him. Robin is the person Sunday cares about the most, his life is but a tool to maintain her happiness and he's not quiet about the fact he'd chose Robin over the Family. When Robin didn't want to sing for Ena in the final plan, Sunday betrays the Dreammaster by taking her place as the sacrificial lamb instead. Point being, Robin is Sunday's only real support system and his only access to something that hasn't been rotted by the Family's corruption. The Dreammaster starts the conversation by highlighting how Robin withholds information from Sunday. She didn't mention getting shot, she didn't mention going to a planet because of war, she didn't mention anything. She isn't telling Sunday when she's in danger. Sunday is already terrified of the world around him, of how bleeding hearts like his sister's and his suffer for their kindness. The Dreammaster going about things this way instills a layer of distrust, Sunday can't trust Robin to be honest with him, he can't trust Robin to be safe, he can’t trust her to trust him. Thus, Robin is taken out of the equation and Sunday is alone with only the Dreammaster in his ear.
Next, we drill in a blame of the Harmony. Robin serves the Harmony like a good child of Xipe but it's precisely that which put her in harm's way. Would she have gone into that situation if not for the ideals of the Harmony? The Dreammaster twists this logic in Sunday's head, whispering it was the Harmony that got his sister shot and mockingly noting that maybe the only reason Robin wasn't dead from it was because she served Xipe so well; he implies that if she failed to meet that nonexistent standard next time, maybe Xipe will let Robin die. Sunday can't trust Xipe to protect Robin because it was Xipe's will that almost killed her. Now he's more vulnerable for the ideals of Order to sing their claws in.
Finally, Sunday's lack of control is emphasized. Sunday has just been appointed Oak Family Head but he still has no control over anything. He can't act out of line because those who supported him may stop and if he fails to uphold the pristine image of the Family there will be hell to pay. Still, I think the most sinister thing about his lack of control is seen when the Dreammaster stresses that Sunday can only write back to Robin after he has finished his "outstanding tasks". He was just coldly told the person he cares most about in the world was almost killed without her deigning to inform him, and he can't even talk about it with her and make sure she's okay until he does his paperwork. The position of Family head is nothing but a formality and it isn't enough to save Robin, it isn't enough to save anyone. Sunday has never been in control so maybe... He should create a world where he has it through Order.
In the credits we see the Dreammaster refered to as "Sunday's Servant" but it's obvious the Dreammaster was the one who manipulated and pushed Sunday to this point, intensifying his trauma and pushing Robin out so he could be the only whisper in Sunday's ear, so he could warp Sunday to be the vessel of Order he wants from him.
This entire scene would have gone so much differently if the Dreammaster actually cared about Sunday but we can tell he doesn't. From the start Sunday has been a bleeding heart that bleeds more heavily every time he tries to alleviate suffering. He's trapped in the cage of Penacony and has come to think the buildup of broken dreams and pain he's exposed to is the way of the entire universe. Robin escaped but Sunday can't.
Sunday is ultimately responsible for everything he did but you can't ignore that the path he took to get here reeks of the Dreammaster's malicious influence. Gallagher notes Sunday is just like Misha in a lot of ways and I think that's why the Dreammaster honed in on him so intensely. Sunday had the potential to ruin everything if he took the path Robin and Misha did so he had to have his wings clipped and taught to think a cage means love, that Order is the way, not Harmony.
It's genuinely such a good sequence, the tension of it all makes it work so well. The fact that Sunday is haunted by it and that the Dreammaster so successfully got into his head without him really noticing. He basically did what Aventurine bragged about doing, exploiting Robin's suffering to hit Sunday where he's soft. The Dreammaster functionally set up a bomb and coaxed Sunday into being the one to set it off.
Sunday is a wonderfully written antagonist, but the Dreammaster is a wonderfully written villain.
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celtic-crossbow · 2 days
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You're Pushing Me Sideways, but You Won't Let Go
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Vampire!Daryl)
Setting: Saviors Era
Warnings: Blood; Injury; Biting to feed; Suggestive dialogue
Summary: You rescued Daryl, once and then twice.
A/N: Just a quick little thing to satisfy this vampire Daryl obsession that I have.
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You knew breaking him out of the sanctuary would be dangerous. It was a suicide mission. You knew you wouldn’t come out unscathed. You were blinded by your rage, your determination to pull Daryl to safety. Once you saw him, you had not a single doubt that you had made the right choice. They had tortured him with the sun, no animals on which to feed. He was burnt, the right side of his face blistered and raw. He couldn’t heal. He was weak, barely able to run fast enough to ensure the escape you had planned so carefully.
It was that hindrance that left you with a through and through bullet wound to your thigh. The femoral artery had been hit. With a makeshift tourniquet, you had been able to get him out, covered in a blanket to shield him from the dangerous rays that would kill him slowly, drain him of vitality until he was nothing. 
Now, in the cover of the forest, he lay starving while you lay dying. There was really only one resolution and you knew he wouldn’t like it.
“Take my blood.” Your voice scraped against your vocal chords, mouth desert dry. Somehow summoning the energy, you looked up at him. He sat beside you with your head on his shoulder. His jaw was set, but the pain in his eyes remained unhidden.
“No.”
“Daryl, I’m dying.” You could feel it. You were cold, tired, the wound no longer hurting. Your blood seeped out, soaking your jeans. The tourniquet wasn’t enough against an entry and exit wound. “I can still save you.” You knew he could smell it, his heightened senses reacting unbidden. He was fighting the hunger. He always had, especially when it came to you. He would tell you how sweet your blood smelled while he moved inside you. How just a taste would never be enough. He turned to carnal pleasures to overshadow the desire to feed from you.
“I ain’t bitin’ ya.” He sounded desperately determined, still gazing straight ahead. His breathing was bordering erratic, chest heaving. “I’d kill ya. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
“Then don’t. Take what you need, I’m dying anyway.” You stated nonchalantly. You didn’t need long to come to terms with it. Everyday was a battle to survive. You’d been lucky to make it as long as you had. Now, it was all about saving Daryl. The community couldn’t lose him, and you couldn’t die knowing he would follow. “Please.”
“Said I ain’t doin’ it!” As much as he tried to sound undaunted, his voice cracked. 
“Please, Daryl.” Your vision was graying at the edges. “Let me do this for you.” You felt him shift, his movements stiff but deliberate until he was in front of you, irises an intense red instead of the mountain lake blue. You loved both of them, both sides of him, but you knew what this meant and you hoped against hope that he would follow through. He was grappling for control, on the edge of giving in to your request.
“Can’t lose ya. Won’t.” He ducked his head, intending on avoiding the plea in your eyes, forgetting the bloody mess of your leg. When he snapped his gaze back to your face, his pupils were dilated, he was panting harshly through his mouth with the tips of his fangs visible behind his lips. “I’ll do it, but Y/N—” You shivered, the cold fingers of death scrabbling for a permanent grip on your consciousness. “I ain’t losin’ ya.”
He dove forward, pulling on your shoulders to meet him halfway. You always wondered what it would feel like to have him bite you. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it’d be, but you were pounding on death’s door, your skin cold and on the edge of numb. There was a pull when he drew out the first mouthful, a groan vibrating against your neck. He jerked you closer for a better hold and it actually hurt, but you could feel his strength returning, eager to see his face without the burns, without the pinched lines of pain and hunger. Realistically, you wouldn’t. You knew that. You’d be dead by the time he stopped.
Your heart that had been pounding a tattoo against your ribs was now a gentle cadence, a rhythm that held its melody even as it slowed. He jerked you again with a growl that rattled you to your core. It was enough to know that because of you, he would survive. 
“I—I love you.” And with that, your reserves were spent. You surrendered to the pull of nothingness, ready to exist in the darkness, but Daryl would live.
Then you were cold, chilled to the bone. 
You had always read in the books that vampires were much like walkers in the sense that they held no body heat, there was no heartbeat, but also no reflections in the mirror, they would burst into flames or glitter in the sun. None of that was true. Daryl was a human space heater and you could tell the moment he pulled away from you. 
He didn’t drain you. Why? DId he not realize that you were still alive? Were his senses so scrambled that he couldn’t hear your heart still beating? It really didn’t matter. You were dead anyway. He had only unintentionally prolonged the process. 
“Told ya that I ain’t losin’ ya.” His face was suddenly hovering over you, the moonlight carving out his silhouette like a painting. He was beautiful. He was healing. He was—biting his wrist? You were pretty sure that meant something but your brain was shutting down, making coherency impossible. As the urge to close your eyes grew too intense for you to fight any longer, you let them slip shut, the last image being the glow of red morphing into a bright blue that you prayed would surround you in death.
“Daryl.” You breathed. 
And then there was nothing.
With a deep inhale, you shot upright, the moonlight bright and the sounds around you amplified. You felt your heart begin to race, your breathing a panicked cycle of inhales and exhales. You could smell everything, hear everything. The hole in your leg was gone. When you bit your lip, the sharp tip of an elongated canine broke the skin. Overwhelmed, you sought out your peace, the one thing—the one person— that could tether you to reality, ground you. Daryl was sitting across from you, a fire burning between you.
He smiled, fangs still stained with your blood—and his own.
“Told ya that I wasn’t losin’ ya.” You blinked at him for a moment before you couldn’t help but smile back. “An’ I meant it.”
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faetima · 2 days
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Hi!! Can I please request a hanahaki fic with blade? I'm not sure if you've written for him though!
Also, please take some breaks! You've written a lot of fics lately, you might get overworked 🤍
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𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. .
. .hanahaki just had to put you through fucking hell, didn't it?
// tws ; lil bit of cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au
a/n: OH MY GOD ANON YOURE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST ILYSM OMOGMOGO
i will be writing a part two to this.. soon enough :3
you couldn't do anything about this stupid disease anyways, so what was the point of even trying?
you heaved up clusters and clusters and clusters of ugly bright red petals, their sickly sweet scent making its way up to your nose. you felt so fucking nauseous and dizzy. the fragrant miasma of flowers overwhelmed you. you wanted to vomit or cry or die or anything but cough up these dumb stupid flowers.
the flowers flopped onto your floor--your newly polished floor-- ungracefully, covered in slick mucus and freshly coated in splatters of blood. they smeared the previously pristine tiling with blood, the iron stench of it mixing with the flowers and filling up the entire room. you just wanted the disease to kill you already. if it was going to either way, why make you suffer?
after what felt like hours and hours and hours and hours of coughing and heaving and choking, the flowers finally stopped fucking coming. you took shaky shallow breathes, trying to ground yourself.
your palms stung, and you looked down to realize you had been digging your nails into the palms of your hand almost strong enough to draw blood.
your gaze trailed up to the stupid fucking flowers.
upon closer inspection, you realized they were spider lilies. red ones.
his favorite flowers.
too bad you hated them.
--
his eyes were the same exact color of the flowers you had just coughed up.
blade sat two seats in front of you and one to the right, and whenever you saw him you couldn't help but wonder why you had fallen for him.
he was always so indifferent and cold. sure there might've been something warmer under his icy exterior, but you weren't the type of person to go dig through someone's cold attitude just to find out what they were actually like.
but some days you wished you knew what was under that cold front of his.
--
you were getting worse.
you'd barley come out of your room to stretch your legs or go to the bathroom or even eat.
the spider lilies were killing you from the inside out. of course you had to have hanahaki for someone who probably hated you, if he even knew you existed, that is.
and, on top of that, out of all flowers, the ones you coughed up had to be toxic.
if just hacking up the flowers was bad, the nausea they caused because of being toxic was worse. you couldn't even go five minutes without feeling abdominal pain and nausea.
ugh.
--
blade swallowed hard.
why did he feel like this? why did his heart beat so fast when this random ass person passed by?
he gritted his teeth.
"kafka," he grumbled, barley glancing in her direction.
kafka glanced up from her book, setting it down elegantly and tucking a strand of mauve hair behind her ear, adjusting the tinted glasses sitting atop her head in the process.
"yes, bladie?" she grinned a little, and blade could only groan in irritation.
"who's that?" he muttered, gesturing towards the person he had been thinking about earlier.
"why?" kafka mused. "you've never been interested in learning others' names before now. what's changed?"
"nothing," he muttered gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest. his ears felt hot and his heart was beating faster and he was getting butterflies and he didn't know why.
kafka grinned, eyes glinting with amusement.
"ooh, i think someone has a crush."
"no."
"okay, let's go talk to them then bladie."
"no!"
"why not? is it cause you like them?"
"..fine. let's go talk to them."
--
your head fell forward a little. another sleepless night of coughing up flowers didn't bring you any good.
suddenly, your eyes snapped open.
was that.. blade? walking towards you? with kafka?
no, it probably wasn't. you were probably just sleep deprived and hallucinating or something.
but then you smelt the strong and unmistakable scent of anise, too real to be your imagination.
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houserautha · 3 days
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Imagining Feyd and reader sneaking off to one of the palace fortress’ pool spas that overlooks geidi prime. They start off splashing/teasing one another in the pool and giggling, and then it turns to sex real quick (like everything with them always does 😂)
Everything does turn into sex😂😂 we love it (and him)
I might be doing my own worldbuilding here (and it might not even make sense lol) but what if the runoff from the factories like festered underground and heated these springs throughout Giedi Prime. It could be used as a source of additional energy or for relaxation.
Steam rises up off the hot springs, and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. The odor isn’t pleasant but not exactly unpleasant. Feyd explained to you earlier that the springs were a result of the factory excess, which seemed like a generous name for pollution; however, he assured you that there would be no harm in swimming in it. “You’ll see,” he tells you confidently.
The spring is of private use to House Harkonnen. Its water is mostly clear, surrounded by barren land and tufts of wilting plants, though you swear there’s a faint radioactive tint to it.
“If I don’t die first, I will kill you for making me do this,” you say to him. You hear the rustling of clothing and look up in time to see Feyd removing his clothes until he’s completely naked, grinning at you as he steps out of his pants.
A flush burns your face. Ahem. Wow.
You watch, bewildered and enticed, as he strides away from you and then dives elegantly into the hot spring. Water sluices from his smooth brow, his broad shoulders and down the muscled plane of his chest.
“Are you too afraid?” Feyd teases you.
Never one to deny a challenge, you quickly strip down to your underwear and tiptoe to the water’s edge. “Feyd?” The na-Baron had vanished from the surface. “Come on, that’s not funny —”
Suddenly a pair of hands seize your legs. You shriek as you’re pulled down into the water, unable to stop yourself in time. The water is nice and warm on your skin as you’re dunked under, and when you manage to redeem yourself you level a glare at your attacker.
“It was kind of funny,” Feyd replies, deadpanned.
This prompts you to engage in a splashing war, one that you regret starting after Feyd takes it with utmost seriousness. Finally you relent by diving under the water and swimming away from him, though he’s reticent to let you go. He catches you near the embankment, grabbing you by the hips and pinning you up against it.
You squirm and shriek good-naturedly. “No! Don’t! Stop! Let me go!”
“Don’t stop?”
Feyd’s fingers bury into your sides, enticing more giggles from you. Your mouth is stretched open in a laugh when he suddenly captures it with his, one arm sneaking around you to cradle your head. You sigh into him, body melting, the adrenaline of the chase subsiding, replacing with something hotter than the springs themselves.
His kiss is searing, burning down the column of your throat. You remember that he’s naked when you feel his stiff member nudging into your inner thigh and, without thinking, reach down to wrap your fingers around it.
A growl rumbles deep in his chest. Keeping you from the ground, he hooks you to him while he crawls out of the spring and onto the flat ground. He’s fumbling eagerly for your underwear. Once his hand dips below the waistband, your breath hitches and you breathe out, “Don’t stop.”
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guttednights · 3 days
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You.
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finally, you have done it. you had broken up with Simon. After months of torture, he sold as some forbidden paradise. the constant bickering, bossing you around, neglecting you, missing dates, and worst of all. not telling anyone he was even in a relationship. God it lit a fire so deep inside of you. you blocked his ass the second you broke up with him. sure it did no good cause he still had a key to your house but, that's a battle to deal with tomorrow. or at least you thought tomorrow. it was 2am and you had finally fell asleep
it wasn't long after you fell asleep you heard the door to your apartment being kicked down. you knew who it was immediately, I mean what other kind of physcopath just kicks down someone else's door?. you quickly get up wrapping a robe around you and walking out. there he is simon fucking Riley staring at you with pure anger.
"SERIOUSLY Y/N?!" "JUST LIKE THAT OUR 5-YEAR RELATIONSHIP IS OVER? OVER ONE FUCKING TEXT!"
as he gets closer, you back away.
"simon i explained everything in detail in that text." you spat with fiery. "I'm not doing this anymore" you look at you door, "and your buying me a new fucking door!"
He grabs you with anger and you panic, he would never hurt you. Right? he would never hurt you? shit I mean yeah he's a killing machine at work, but he's never been physically aggressive.
"thats what your fucking worried about right now? your stupid fucking door?" He practically shook you with his anger.
"Simon I'm not doing this, I already expressed that we're over. get out, Simon."
he towered over you, beginning to spit something at you, but held his mouth, sighing letting you go then turning around and walking out your broken door. attempting to shut it before disappearing.
you sighed as he walked away. it was really that easy all along? that's all it took? you questioned to yourself as you slammed your body into your broken door.
"fuck." you say to yourself as you realize the doors not gonna shut. you just hope for the best as you go back to bed. Simon is gone finally, you think to yourself as you finally fall asleep.
the next morning you wake up, and continue your usual routine. less than an hour later you walk out of your apartment, looking at the door trying to decide what to do. "we'll figure it out". you walk down your apartment complex before heading to work. it was a usual day at work. nothing too stressful.
it isn't 9:30 till you finally close up for the day. gripping your bag close to your side. your nail shop is down the street from a local bar, it's usually pretty busy during the weekdays. It is dark, and the lights from the bar light the walkway as you mindlessly walk. suddenly a drunken man from the bar grabs you.
"aye sweetheart why dont you sit down, and enjoy a drink eh?"
"no. thanks." you jerk away from him but he grabs your waist this time
"ah come on dont be unfriendly, lets have a chat sweetie. You too pretty to be sleeping on a beautiful night like this."
you chuckle trying to be nice "Yeah thanks but no" You attempt to jerk away again but this time the man pulls you hard
"Now dont be a bore," he says with anger as he drags you to the dark alleyway. this can't be how you die. for the first time in years, you're alone without Simon to call, everyone in the bar is too drunk to realize what's happening, and you're small compared to most men.
you panic as you try to break free, pushing him off at your most might. but he doesn't let go, his fingers practically dug into you. "please stop" you panic doing everything you can.
as soon as you start to scream, you hear a loud metal-sounding hit, you look back and see Simon standing over the man with a metal bat.
"she said leave her alone!" he boomed
the man held his head as he scurried off. you held your arm as you looked at him. you start to back up before Simon grabs you. "quit acting an idiot and go home." "before I actually have to kill someone."
you say nothing swallowing your pride and walking away but stopping. "are you fucking stalking me?"
"my stalking just saved your life sweetheart." "go home."
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side notes/ babbling: I imagined Simon as joe Golberg in a alternate universe and viola came up with this. I really want to do a part 2, so lmk how y'all feel about this!!!
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aphroditeinthesea · 3 days
Text
“ guilty as sin ii ”
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jason grace x fem!reader
part two of guilty as sin | pt. 1
a/n the vote was split, so there’s no intense smut but insinuation and make out (overly descriptive bc i didnt want it to be just smutty)
. ݁₊ ⚡︎ . ݁ ⁺₊
Death seemed like a nice concept that night. Everything that had happened seemed like too much. Either Piper was going to kill her or Jason and Piper make up and kill her together. Which was worse? She laid awake in bed that night fantasizing about throwing herself to the wolves or the ocean rocks. These were different from her regular fatal fantasies of Jason, the ones that left her feeling as though her bed sheets were ablaze and all she wanted to do was scream his name. She bit her lip as she looked around the cabin at her sleeping siblings. She was absolutely envious of the peace they all felt.
She never could’ve imagined that Jason felt the same towards her. She started wondering the options, if she did go for him, would she be bad? If she didn't, would she be mad? Or wise? Not wise. She decided she could never be wise. Someone wise wouldn't have let this go one for so long. Someone wise wouldn't be thinking about guys during everything going on. There were so many things to worry about, and instead, she was worrying about a love affair.
She felt her stomach turn and decided to stand up. She walked into the bathroom just to check her hair. It was frizzy from her pillow, so she urgently tried to brush it down, but in a panic, threw down her brush. Unfortunately for her, she did so too aggressively, causing it to slip off and into the toilet.
“Oh my gods,” she whispered, she looked up to the ceiling, “good one, Aphrodite.” She huffed, deciding to leave it there. She slowly walked out of the bathroom, to the cabin door. She took a deep breath as she left her cabin. She tried to be quick, so no one saw her.
She reached cabin one, knocking on the door. There was a shuffle of noise inside before the son of Jupiter opened the door for her. There he stood, wearing nothing but blue pajama pants that were low enough to sow the band of his boxers. She swore that her heart stopped at the sight.
“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice cracking, “I was just thinking about you.”
She walked in. She swallowed before breathing out questioningly, “Piper?”
He shut the door behind her. He bit his lip just next to his scar, “I broke up with her,” he led her over to his bed to sit with him, “she took it well. She told me that she could feel that I was in love with someone else, she just didn't want to believe it.”
“Did you tell her that it was because of me?”
“She knew before I even had a chance to tell her.”
“I feel awful,” she frowned as she thought of how she must have one of her best friends to feel so low.
“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” he responded, “I shouldn't have kissed you. I couldn't live with that guilt if I had stayed with her.”
“I shouldn't have thrown that all at you like that,” she admitted, “Annabeth was right.”
“What did Annabeth say?”
She sighed, “that I shouldn't go after you because of Piper. But you have no idea how you’ve haunted me so stunningly.”
“The feelings would’ve killed one of us.”
She chuckled, “what a way to die.”
He smiled, lightly resting a hand on her back. She looked up at him, cupping the smooth skin of his face with her hands, she hesitated before pressing her lips against his. His muscular arms wrapped around her to pull her onto his lap to straddle him. His hands wandered to grip onto the bottom of her.
“Jason,” she hummed as she let her hands move down to now be feeling his abdomen.
He smiled into the kiss before his tongue carved its way into her mouth. He leaned back, letting her hover him. Their kisses got sloppier as they both grew impatient. The way his lips felt was so different from her dreams and fantasies of him. His lips weren’t as soft as she imagined, they were chapped but she couldn't even pay attention to that as they were slowly pulling at her own. His calloused fingers trailed up her shirt, drawing circles on her back.
Her body tensed as she felt an electric shock course through her.
He froze, quickly pulling his hand away, “I’m sorry, my gods, are you okay?”
She nodded, “I’m fine,” she leaned back into him, “do that again.”
“What?”
“Do it again,” she mumbled against his lips.
His hand traced her stomach, he locked his eyes with hers waiting for a signal. When she nodded, he took a deep breath before gently shocking her again.
She let out a soft groan, “oh my gods.”
He worriedly looked up at her, “was that okay?”
She brushed her lips against his, “yeah, thanks.”
He smirked, “thanks?”
She laughed, bringing her hands to brush along his cheekbones, “you know what I mean.” She rolled off of him, she awkwardly scooted to now be leaning on the headboard of his bed.
He smiled at her before crawling up to be in front of her. He connected their lips once again, her body now pressed against his pillows, which cushioned her as he pinned her further into his mattress.
His lips suddenly stopped moving. He opened his eyes just to look at her and really examine every inch of her face.
“What?”
“Sorry,” he whispered, “you're just beautiful.”
She felt blood rush to her cheeks, “thank you.”
He wetly kissed her jaw, “it’s true.”
“Hm,” she grinned as she began to thread her fingers through his hair, “you're not too bad either, Grace.”
He nibbled at the skin of her neck, carefully marking her up, blowing on the skin after leaving his mark. She knew in the morning she would be playing with her concealer, trying to figure out how to cover it up, but that was a problem for future her. Right now her entire world revolved around the boy who was on top of her.
He reached her chest with his lips. His blue eyes looked up at her like a doe, “is this okay?” he asked as he held onto the edge of her shirt.
“Yes, Jason,” she replied, moving up her arms so he could easily peel it off of her. He slowly did so, making sure she was comfortable the whole time. He threw the shirt onto the floor before turning his attention back to Y/N. Her breath hitched at the cool air of the cabin, but was too distracted by the body heat radiating off of Jason to care.
He continued to softly kiss down her chest and stomach. He began to carefully pull down her pajama pants. “Y/N?”
She looked down at him, “yeah, Jase?”
“You're okay, right?”
She insistently nodded, “of course,” she desperately wanted to follow up with please, please, please touch me, but that seemed a little embarrassing, so she restrained herself.
He hesitated to speak again, “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, “so I don't really know what I’m doing.”
She giggled, “that’s okay, Jason,” she responded, “me neither.”
She felt hair tickling her jaw and arms around her. She turned to see the blond holding tightly onto her as he slept soundly. She grinned, gently brushing her fingers along his bicep.
He looked up, opening his eyes, “good morning,” he smiled. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, his hand felt down her body that was covered by one of his t-shirts, “how are you feeling?”
She moved around to now be facing him, “I’m amazing, what about you?”
“I”m good,” he kissed her lips, a feeling that she could never get enough of, “I just wanted to make sure that you're not in pain or anything.”
“I’m okay,” she held onto his jaw, “I promise.”
He nodded, “I believe you, Y/N.”
She realized then that everything she had been feeling was finally fresh out the slammer.
corny ending, sorry
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half-oz-eddie · 1 day
Text
Abuse, violence tw
Steve was in his living room enjoying a quiet, uneventful night.
Yes, uneventful. His favorite sort of night, these days. Exactly 3 months ago, the nightmare which was the Mind Flayer had plagued the city, taking dozens of people's lives along with it.
Steve still had a terrible ringing in his ears, neglecting the probably needed medical attention as usual.
As he enjoyed some nightly news and KFC, he heard a thump coming from upstairs.
He was home alone, as he was most nights.
Steve turned down the TV, startled when he'd heard the thumping again.
He didn't know what to expect. In a town like Hawkins, a town with monsters and alternate dimensions, that sound could be anything.
Steve grabbed one of his dad's golf clubs and slowly ascended the steps. He heard the sound of his window slowly sliding shut as he reached the top of the steps.
He crept to his room and swung the door open, gasping at the sight, nearly swinging his golf club.
"Wait wait wait!" A familiar voice exclaimed in the darkness.
Steve slowly lowered the club. "...Hargrove?" He shook his head. "No way, we watched you die."
"I didn't die. I woke up in the morgue and some...guys and a lady in suits came right away and—and they sedated me and brought me to some lab to...study me. They kept running all these tests on me and shocking me until I would flatline."
"So...what you can't die?"
"I dunno, maybe I can. But I don't wanna die."
"I just..." Steve shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get it. I-I watched you...take a tentacle through the chest. How are you alive?"
"Because whatever that...dark shadow thing did to me...it changed my body. My...organs can like...regenerate."
"That's...uh...that's...pretty cool."
"I dunno, whatever, I guess. Look, I'm sorry about before. About everything. The fight, being an asshole, trying to kill everyone—"
"The last part wasn't your fault, but I'll forgive you for everything else." Steve finally disarmed himself and set the golf club on his bed.
"So, uh..."
There was a loud urgent banging on the door. They looked at one another with wide eyes.
"Do they have a tracker on you?"
"I ditched it before I came here."
"Why exactly did you come here?"
"Because no one would expect me to come here."
The banging could be heard once more.
"Please, Harrington. Please don't tell anyone I'm here. I'm begging you."
Steve left his room without another word, descending the steps.
"Alright, alright, I'm comin'!" He shouted before swinging the door open. "Can I help you?"
"Hello again, Mr. Harrington. Do you remember me?"
"Yeah, sure. How can I help you, agents?"
"A...subject escaped from our lab. He may or may not have disguised himself as Billy Hargrove, the young man who was under the influe—"
"I know who he is. So there's some...thing shapeshifting as Billy?"
"That's correct. If you have any information about the subject's whereabouts, we need you to tell us."
"Did you check Max's house?"
"Of course."
If there was anything Steve learned from all this, it was not to trust the government, especially after how they tried to cover up Will's disappearance.
"Well, you're at the wrong place. Billy and I hated each other. There's no way he, or something disguised as him would think I'd even let him in the door."
The agent nodded. "Understandable. But if you do encounter the subject, do not engage." He held out a card. "Call us immediately."
"Yeah, sure thing. G'night." He waited until the agents piled into their cars and drove away before making his way to the steps, stopping mid-step.
What if what they said was true?
He shook the thought away. As if he'd trust those agents.
But, that didn't stop him from wondering about it. What if this shapeshifter knew Billy hated Steve and saw him as an easy mark to kill?
Maybe he was overthinking it.
He returned upstairs, finding Billy cowering beneath his desk.
"You can come out now."
Billy slowly crawled out. "Are they gone?"
"Yep. I told them they came to the wrong place because you'd never come here."
"That's exactly why I'm here. I'm so glad I was able to trust you."
"But can I trust you?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"If you're the real Billy, do you remember what you said to me in the shower at school that one time?"
"When I told you there're plenty of bitches in the sea and I'd be—"
"Sure to leave me some, yeah." Steve chuckled. "You really got under my skin."
"That was kinda the point."
"So uh...what are you gonna do now?"
"Can I stay here?'
Steve's eyes widened. "Here?!"
"Just for tonight. I swear I'll be gone before sunrise."
Steve reached over and flipped his light switch.
"Jesus..." He whispered to himself in disbelief.
In the bedroom lighting, he was able to see the marks that covered Billy's shirtless body, and the oversized collar around his neck. He couldn't understand how he was able to make it to his house in the cold in only a pair of shorts, with that big contraption around his neck.
"What...is that thing?" Steve asked, slowly approaching.
"It's a shock collar. Like they put on fucking animals. I guess they saw me as an animal too."
"Can you take it off?"
"No, it's...screwed on."
"I—stay here. I'll take it off you."
Steve raced to his garage and grabbed the tool kit. He approached Billy with a screwdriver in hand, pitying him as he backed further into the corner.
"It's alright, man. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna get that contraption off of you."
Billy stepped out of the corner, allowing Steve to slowly unscrew the collar, revealing a neck covered in nicks and burns.
"You...want a shower? Maybe some food?"
"Please. I haven't eaten in months."
"What?"
"I've just been sustained with a fucking IV." He showed Steve the bruising from the ripped out IV.
"Go. Use the shower. I'll bring something upstairs for you."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, go ahead. It's down the hall to the left."
"Thanks."
Steve watched as Billy disappeared down the hall and into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.
He went back downstairs, grabbed the rest of his food and split it into 2 plates, before deciding maybe Billy should have it all and he can have a bowl of cereal if he got hungry again.
Steve brought the plate upstairs and grabbed some clothes from his dresser, then knocked on the bathroom door.
"It's just me." He called out. "Got some clothes here for you."
Billy turned the shower off and opened the door, gently grasping the clothes.
"Food's in my room when you're ready."
Billy nodded, gently closing the door.
Steve sat at his desk, sighing to himself. He loudly groaned when he heard his phone ringing downstairs.
"How many times am I gonna have to walk up and down these goddamn stairs?" He mumbled to himself.
"Hello?"
"Steve? Dude, did you hear?!" Dustin exclaimed.
"Yeah, I heard."
"Is it really a shapeshifter? Or is it actually Billy?"
"I dunno, Dustin, but I don't think we should talk about this over the phone. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow after school."
"Yeah—okay, yeah! Can you pick me up from school?"
Steve sighed. "Sure thing, buddy."
"Cool, later Steve!"
Steve hung up the phone, sighing to himself before returning upstairs to find Billy wolfing down the food, spilling crumbs all over his bed.
"Oh, sorry...did you want some?"
"No, I uh...I already ate."
Billy proceeded to wolf down his food, and Steve just sat there, with so many questions in his mind.
"That was good. Thanks, pretty boy. Want me to wash my dish—"
"No. It-it's fine. You should probably stay up here. I'll go sleep on the couch—"
"No! I-I mean...I don't wanna put you out. I should—I should sleep on the floor."
"In your condition? I can't let you do that." Steve shook his head in contest.
"I just..." Billy sighed. "I don't want to be alone."
Steve looked into Billy's frightened eyes. "They really hurt you in that lab, huh?"
Billy nodded.
This wasn't the Billy steve once knew, but he wasn't a shapeshifter, or a clone, or whatever bullshit the government agents tried to feed him. This was the real Billy. A scared young guy who had been abused relentlessly.
"I'll stay with you tonight. We can listen to the radio until we fall asleep, yeah?"
"You don't think they'll come back, do you?"
"Those agents? No..." Steve paused. "Probably not."
Billy disappointedly sighed.
"I could...stay awake. If it'll help you sleep easier." Steve suggsted.
"I don't want you to do that either. Let's just...sleep. However much we can."
Billy huddled close to the wall while Steve turned on the radio on low volume then crawled into the bed. He placed a pillow between himself and Billy.
This is so weird. Steve thought as he stared at Billy. He watched the pitiful mess sleep peacefully on the left side of his bed.
When Billy rolled over and draped his arm over Steve's shoulder, he initially thought to move it, but, he chose not to. Instead, he reached over and caressed his cheek, a tender moment shared between Billy and the only person who knew he was still alive.
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When they were talking about Wesker, I can't help but when he said this to Jill (when she said it was like living in a nightmare being controlled), I think he was also talking about himself when he said this.
He had only just opened up to her about Piers (apparently the first time he's told her about him years after his death), and it almost felt as if he was confessing his guilt/loss and that he had planned on retiring, Piers being the one to take over from him. He looked vulnerable telling her, the way he held the water bottle with both hands as if he needed something to hold and ground him, like it took real effort to open up (he's still affected by Piers' death). When it came to Wesker, him 'opening up' carried over and he may have confessed how he felt about Wesker still being in his mind, memories and nightmares. It could have also been Piers he was having nightmares about and he struggled to come to terms with the loss. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but it's obvious losing Piers hit him hard. However his relationship/rivalry with Wesker was longer and more intense, it would make sense that he'd still feel that connection to him like an old scar that won't fade and gives him pain. He also uses replicas/weapons that were Wesker's, if he wanted to be done with Wesker, why use them at all? Would he have not had other alternative weapons to choose from? Wesker's dead (as far as he's concerned) yet he still has that connection to him. If he was the one who commissioned the series of weapons or was the one to name them after Wesker... Did he do it to honour his memory? Or that he wanted something of Wesker or that connection with him to stay? And what would Jill have thought of it? Chris using replica weapons of the man that controlled her and made her live a nightmare? "And if you're not careful, it'll swallow you up." Perhaps he said that because that's what has happened to him, that the nightmares of Wesker have consumed him or had at one point consumed him.
The why he looked and acted empty after killing Wesker, you'd think he'd be happy or relieved it was over like the others were. Maybe he was at first but after a while the emptiness began to settle; he trained for so long to fight Wesker, he had a purpose and a goal. When Wesker was gone it left a void that needed to be filled. But something that had such an impact and influence on his life would have left him feeling empty. In a way, he killed part of his identity that day.
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Then there's this scene in RE6
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WHY was Chris prepared to die because he killed Wesker? As if he felt guilty or regretted it? He didn't know Jake personally, he didn't try to defend his actions or explain that Wesker was trying to destroy the world. Yet he willingly confessed and felt he deserved to be shot for killing him.
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It took Chris a strangely long time to answer, why did he have to even think it over? He wanted to take Wesker down for personal reasons and because he was ordered to, it should have been a quick and obvious answer. My guess is that he was having flashbacks to Wesker, possibly his final moments. The way he sounded when he answered was as if he had no choice but to kill Wesker, that it wasn't for the same personal reasons he had before. He had to kill him in the same way of putting down a rabid dog, to protect people and to put it out of it's misery/pain. "I had to, he wouldn't stop. He was beyond saving."
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Whether he felt actual guilt/regret for killing Wesker or it was merely a very dangerous tactic to get through to Jake, it's hard to say.
Ironically, there have been many occasions Wesker has aimed a gun at Chris and never fired, not even to miss for plot or as a warning. Jake, his son, did what Wesker couldn't in his 10 years of rivalry with Chris.
And of course, this scene in the RE1 remaster.
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I've talked about this in another post but long story short, he still cared about Wesker despite being betrayed by him, that just moments ago shot Rebecca. Chris laughed and mocked him seconds before and was held at gun point, but the moment Wesker got attacked he immediately tried to help/save him. He cared.
And he still did, even after his death. Using Wesker weapon replicas, protecting and defending his son, possibly still having Wesker's STARS knife from the events of Code Veronica...he needs to have something of Wesker to be part of him. Whatever his reasons, despite all the pain, anger and hatred, he refuses to let him go and let the past be buried. He is both haunted and embracing the ghost of Wesker. The longer the absence of Wesker goes on, the more Chris is changing. Deep down he may have been hoping, wanting, Wesker to come back. 10 years pass and there's still no sign of him, the realisation turning into grief and regret. Wesker gave Chris purpose (just like how Chris gave Wesker purpose), now that purpose was gone, things just aren't the same anymore and there's nothing he can do to get him back. Wesker may have been right after all; their fates really are forever intertwined.
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marivoid · 3 days
Text
Entry 35
Day 228
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Scott.
The same Scott who was supposed to no longer be here. The same Scott who had gone missing in our G.U.I.D.E.- The same Scott who had dark blonde hair the last time I saw him. Somebody who didn't have blue-tinted skin and an icy stare.
Somebody who didn't have ANTLERS of all things.
All I could do was stare. That was all I did. I just took in the face of the man who... that was my best friend. But it's been ten years. By the Watchers, I wish I knew what happened to him.
"You are not supposed to be here, Martyn."
His voice had changed too. Rougher. More defensive.
"And you are supposed to be in the G.U.I.D.E, but here you are. You're changed. You're not..."
"Not what? Not normal? Not that stupid, aloof boy who ran around the G.U.I.D.E with my head so far up in the clouds I couldn't tell reality from fiction?"
A sigh had escaped my lips back then. I wish it didn't. "You were never aloof, Scott. You were incredibly smart and witty and could do so many wonderful things- But then you left. You vanished in the middle of the night. You left the G.U.I.D.E! You left the people you were supposed to help- You left... You left me!"
"NOT WILLINGLY!" His hands slammed against his chest. "Look at me, Martyn! Does it look like I left willingly?! Those damned Watchers, feeding your brain- I bet you still believe everything they told you too!" The world around us had gotten quiet. People were looking.
And the "Jimmy" guy finally stepped in between us.
"Scott- Scott, hey, you don't need to tell him anything." He was definitely trying his best to keep the peace. But I've been told that I'm one stubborn bastard.
"No, actually, I think you do!" Jimmy's wing -Golden and soft and organic- stopped me in my path. "Scott, you left the night of your birthday! You left after freaking- You KISSED me, damnit! And then left! I thought you had died!"
"I WAS TAKEN YOU DUMBASS!" His hands got more blue with... With ice. Ice that he should have never had.
"Scott, you really don't need to do this, you know it makes you upset-"
"OH REALLY?! WERE YOU?! THAT SOUNDS LIKE A HELL OF A LOT OF BULLSHIT TO ME!" I shouldn't have yelled back then. Especially with Brian cawing the way he was.
"I WAS! THE WATCHERS ARE NOTHING BUT AN EVIL GROUP THAT JUST WANTED TO TORMENT US!" He was crying now. I, ME, I made him cry. Over ten years and I made him cry. But my anger was still speaking for me.
"And why would they want to hurt us, Scott?! They gave us everything!"
"They took away everything from us, what do you mean?!"
"ENOUGH!" Pearl's voice. I was pushed back from Scott while Jimmy stood in front of Scott like he was something that needed to be protected.
Needed to be protected from ME.
I should have been the one to protect him. I shouldn't have made him scared, but I did.
"Both of you are acting childish- You both are taking this out of my Emporium. Now!"
And that was how we got kicked out. And yet Jimmy was still protecting Scott.
Even when we left the Emporium and were finally in a quiet place... I still let myself be dumb. I wish Brian poked my head more often for my dumbass-ery at that moment.
"I thought you were dead."
"I'm not."
"They told me you left- That you hated the G.U.I.D.E and wanted to let yourself die in the wastelands. I... Didn't want to believe them."
"You did. Didn't you?"
My silence was the wrong answer.
"Martyn. You're a dumbass. You're a stubborn dumbass who never thinks things through. Why the hell would you even come out here?"
I held my arm up for him. His stunned expression... I wish it hadn't been with tears in his eyes. "A year after you left, a virus ran rampant. Killed everyone. Took my arm. I had to slice it off before it destroyed me." Scott's and Jimmy's shared silence let me continue. "Had to make a prosthetic. It was absolutely dog water. Held up for a while though. A couple of years. But then I had to make another one. And another... And another. It was okay for a while! Wish you had been there, Scott, would have been really nice to have my best friend with me to keep me sane but hey! Shit happens.
I made a fourth one when these... Bandits broke in. Took everything in there. I had to leave. I've been out here for almost a whole year now. Trying to find the Doctor. Give me an arm that will actually last." When I looked at Scott, his eyes were so... Empty. Void of anything. "When you left, everything changed. I became the Admin of the G.U.I.D.E. I got to read so many books- Things that I wanted to share with you!"
"I never said you had to be Admin, Martyn! I never even hinted at it!"
"I did it for you, Scott! Damnit, I did it so you and I could have been happy together! Unlimited access to everything, keep the G.U.I.D.E healthy and strong- We wanted that!"
"YOU wanted that, Martyn!" His hands collided with my chest. Gods I wish I wasn't so angry. I wish I had held his hands. I wished I hadn't gotten so headstrong. "Those were your dreams! I just wanted to be happy with you! That's why the Watchers took me away!"
More tears. His face turned an ugly shade of purple and ice crawled along my torso. I still have frost burn on my chest from it.
"That's... That can't be why. Why would they take you away just because you made me happy? That's stupid! That's absolutely stupid to even suggest-"
"Because you're too dumb to realize what they were getting at! We were just players in a game for them, Martyn!"
Jimmy stepped in. Again. And this time I didn't get a chance to speak. Not with a feathered wing shoved in my mouth.
"Scott. Enough. You don't owe this guy anything. Come on. Let's get home."
Two pairs of eyes glared at me as they walked away. One pair that I wish I'd been more calm with. I wish that I had just pushed down that rush of anger- Goodness-
His pen hit the paper with a loud shout. "GOD DAMNIT!" He held his head in his hands as he stared at the unfinished entry. "God damnit. I fucked up. I... Fucked up so much." A caw. "Yeah, I know. Big time."
Martyn didn't even bother to sign the entry. He shut the leather journey and tucked it away in his backpack. "I don't think I'll ever see him again either. He'll never forgive me. By the Watchers... What did he mean by that? Taken?? Nobody gets taken for making somebody else happy! That's just ludicrous!"
Another unamused caw.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid." He collapsed onto the incredibly hard bed and let out a groan. "Ow... Forget these things are practically concrete..."
A cawing-like laughter from the bird.
"Oh ha ha. Very funny Brian."
Martyn rolled onto his stomach and stared at the comm. The reflection disgusted him. That reflection was him. "I need to find him again. I... I need to apologize to him, Brian. It's been almost fourteen years. I need to make things right by him. I need to hear him out, find out what happened to him. I made it sound like it was HIS fault for the G.U.I.D.E collapsing."
Another caw. Much louder.
"I know. Pretty shit of me. He's... He looks like he's been through a lot as well. He didn't have those antlers. Didn't have blue skin. He's... I've messed up so much."
Another quiet caw, followed by a trill. Martyn didn't bother to move as a weight made itself comfortable against Martyn's side.
"Didn't know you'd be a cuddly fella." His hand traced the bird's head while a quiet coo escaped its metallic beak. "Warning, I might move a lot in my sleep. Don't peck me if I end up rolling over."
Another caw and an unamused look.
"Just a warning, little fella." A yawn escaped his lips. "G'night, Brian. Sleep well."
Martyn was out before the bird could chirp again.
(@hermitadaymay )
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belladonnadawn · 3 days
Text
Memento Mori
Going against Dontis' wishes, you found yourself in the labyrinth with one thing in mind only: to save him. CW: Blood, gore, and death.
Dontis x Reader
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The streets of New Orleans were filled with colors and loud celebratory music, it was lively and festive– a contrast to your current state. Your mind was clouded with doubt and anxiety; you could only think about him and him only. The world felt like a different place with no one to be alone with. 
You have contemplated everything, there’s not a day when his words slipped through your mind. Dontis’ compassion and faith never ceased to amaze you. But you know how trimedian works– there’s no fair fight in their ideology. When it’s time to strike, they strike. When it’s time to kill, they kill. There’s no mercy between two sides, it will all end in death.
Driving down near the lake, took a deep breath as you reached your destination. You turned off the engine faced by silence. The weight of the situation continues to trouble you. You could turn back and hold on to that vow, or you could hold on to that conviction and assure yourself that he’d be alive and well. 
It took you minutes– you chose the latter. If you can capture Dontis and lock him in your basement, what more can others do knowing that it’s a raging war?
You took a deep breath, your decision as strong as ever. Gathering your belongings, you prepare yourself for what might you encounter. 
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Descending down the labyrinth, you could feel your heart beat out of your chest. Your footsteps light as you reach the base, careful not to attract any unwanted attention. The place was dark and damp, the ambiance only added to your fear.
As you went down the labyrinth you could see corpses– supernatural or human. It was a disturbing sight, one that would haunt you until the day you die. 
You went deeper, exploring every corner carefully. The place was strangely quiet, you never liked silence, it made you listen to your own heartbeat. And you understood from a very young age that if you can hear it, they do too. 
Taking the corner, your heart stopped as a hand suddenly grabbed you. You didn't hesitate to immediately draw your weapon. Pointing it to them, your eyes widened as you finally faced him.
"What did I say about getting involved?!" Dontis whispered angrily, pulling you closer to him. You felt a wave of relief, seeing him alive and well– but still, you can’t help but feel guilty for going against his wishes.
You shake yourself out of his grasp, "You may be mad at me, but I can't let you die here."
"By making yourself an enemy? A target? You know that I am more than capable– we are more than capable." Irritation seeped through his voice, almost unrecognisable from the sweet and gentle Dontis you knew. 
"I know that you're angry, but I just can't watch knowing what might happen." Your voice cracked, looking at him with concern. “I can’t lose someone again. I can’t lose you.” 
Dontis' eyes softened, "I understand, but there are risks you can't just blindly take. You're safer than dealing with these once more.”
“I know, but please understand–”
“It’s over.” You both turned to see a blonde man walking towards both of you, interrupting your discussion. Your eyes landed on the unconscious person that he was carrying from his back, and landed back to his face. Blood stained their clothes as they wore the same weary expression, exhausted and pained from what the battle had brought them. 
Dontis nodded, wearing the same empathetic face. “We need to get in contact with others and see their situation. Both of you need to go back and rest, Xanthus. We’ll handle the others.” 
You nodded as you heard his name. Xanthus, the vampire with the bond. Dontis mentioned him to you multiple times, but seeing him personally in this setting felt surreal. 
“Are you sure you can handle it?” Xanthus asked, his face filled with concern.
“We can. I’m not alone anymore, remember?” Dontis gave him a reassuring smile.
Xanthus glanced at you before turning back to Dontis, he nodded. “Take care. And don’t hesitate to contact me.” He said firmly.
“I will.” 
And with that, he departed leaving both of you alone together. Dontis handed you a device to help you communicate with others. “Don't worry, that's an extra.” He gave you a small smile. 
“Where shall we begin?” 
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“Finally, we thought we're done for.” A woman sighed, holding someone and herself up as her wounds continued to bleed. “Those bastards. Never thought that they'd hide their place here.” She groaned.
“At least we're able to find you, imagine our shock when we saw your location.” Dontis sighed.
“Well, imagine my shock when I found out their location after they dragged me under the lake.” 
Dontis turned to you, “This is Fran and that one's Samia.” He introduced. 
You gave them a nod, as you tried to help them up.
“We'd like an introduction right now, but I don't think it's the right time.” Fran groaned as she carried Samia. 
“We need to get out of here while we still can.” They all nodded, walking outside the place as fast as you can.
After twists and turns, you were finally able to find the path that led outside. All of you hurried towards the exit with Fran and Samia in front of you as you both guided them to the exit. You and Dontis held the heavy door open from each side, letting them escape first.
As you were about to leave, a loud deafening sound filled the room followed by a thud. You turned to see Dontis, falling to his knees while clutching his chest. Everything happened too quick, it didn't register until you saw a gun pointed in his direction, smoke billowing from the barrel. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw the person behind it– Audric, that bastard survived! 
Rage filled your body, you quickly drew your weapon beating down the already beaten man. His eyes widened, finally noticing you. Before he could retaliate, you lunged at him and sliced his neck. You saw his head roll on the floor, this time it was finally over.
Running towards Dontis, you pulled him closer. Your eyes widened as you examined his wound. The bullet from the shotgun left a hole on his chest, making him bleed quicker than you expected. 
"[name]..." Dontis croaked out weakly.
“No, no– you can do this. You can regenerate!” You held him close, frantically doing whatever you can to save him. 
The sight of his gaping wound as blood continues to flow from it was maddening. You tried to patch it up, hoping that pressure would help his case. But as his warm blood flows from your hand, hope slipped away with it.
You removed your jacket, wrapping the wound with it. Your hand reached for the radio, calling for immediate back up. And with all your might, you tried to drag him outside. 
Painful groans escaped his lips as you dragged his body, “[name], w-wait.” 
You stopped, not wanting to hurt him further. Kneeling, you cupped his face, “Come on, few more steps and we're out. We can do this!” You spoke, trying to convince him– or yourself. You tried to ignore the amount of blood that continued to stain the floor. 
As you looked at him, the lessons about creatures like him replayed in your mind. He was immortal, but he was not invincible. Back then, you would've exploited it, but now witnessing his limit was torturous. You fell to your knees, sobbing your heart out. “I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”
Dontis gave you a weak smile, his hand gently wiped your tears. You held the back of his hand, not wanting to let go. Even though he was the one hurting, he still found a will to comfort you. 
“I… understand what I signed up for… I accept my fate.” His voice was weak compared to the lively and joyous one you used to hear. 
“I don't, so you better hold on until they come back for us!” You tried to be strong, but how could you when the source of that strength was slowly fading away from your grasp.
Dontis nodded and he chuckled weakly, “You're remarkable…  that's what… I love about you…”
“Don't you dare close your eyes, Dontis, or I'm going to be so mad at you!” You applied more pressure to his wound, trying to prevent him from bleeding out. It was no use, he was getting more pale as he lost more blood. 
He looked at you once again, his eyes filled with love; a gaze that you'll always long for. Dontis’ hand caressed your cheek. His warm touches are now weak. “[name], the sky was a… shade of purple yesterday.”
Your heart dropped, feeling the heartbreak physically. At that point your world slowly crumbles as the reality of the situation hits you. You shook your head, still in denial of what was currently unfolding. You wanted to scream, to wail, to stop the time or rewind it so you're able to save him. But you knew it was impossible. Death is inevitable. 
“Dontis…” You tried to speak without your voice shaking, but you failed. “T-The clouds rolled in orange hues…”
A small smile formed on his lips, his body slowly resigned. You watched as he succumbed to his fate, holding his hand that once held yours. “I love you.” You whispered, kissing his cheek for the last time. 
For a moment, everything crashed down. The reality that you won't be able to see his smile, hear his voice, or hold him close was maddening. All you have was his cold body that you continued to cradle in your arms. What a cruel fate, for they have taken what you truly cherished once again.
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Pattern banner from Cafekitsune.
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buriedpair · 3 days
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Your ocs are so interesting, I found you through a repost of another yandere blog I love but now I also love yours so get ready for my weird asks.
So what if MC is a god, not a good one nor a bad one, not popular but neither unknown. That doesn't matter to them, they have unlimited power and are immortal. So what best way to use that power than go to gamble for the fun of it? They are cunning and extremely confident (for obvious reasons) and treat others with basic respect but it is apparent that they view them as ants compared to them.
You can choose which OCs find out they are a god and wich don't. How would they react? How will they act around them?
Specifically for DD, MC decides to gamble their life and loose just to fuck with them as they try to pierce their skin and it's simply impossible (or maybe not and they love too much and spare them, I still don't know what he would do if their beloved lost their life)
-🦊 anon
OOOH THIS IS COOL!!! THANK YOU !!!!
Yandere!OCs x GN God!Reader
(Pssst, TW for a mention of suicide)
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Amias
Amias has always known there was something off about you. Your mannerisms are strange and he constantly feels like you're looking down on him.
When you decide to gamble your life, he's appalled. How dare you? As far as he's concerned, your life is his too. This is too much for him.
He feels his heart melt out of his chest when you lose. Time stops as he falls on his hands and knees in front of you, eyes wide and unfocused. He's not ready to have a dead darling.
But you seem confident. Was this your plan? To get rid of him, you want to die? He can't stand to watch as you make your way confidently to the execution arena.
Did he go too far? Did you really need to do this? He can be better. Please don't leave.
But the blade doesn't make even a dent as it rests against your skin. You laugh mockingly toward the crowd before announcing your immortality with a confident smile.
Amias is shattered. You did this all... just to mess with him? Oh, dear. Such a pretty little bird doesn't need to be making a big fuss. You'll be safer from yourself in his arms.
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Edge
Edge always knew. He could see right through you. It just makes you even more interesting, in his eyes. The way you look down on him... He's so untouchable, usually. So for you to treat him like an insect?
It's intoxicating.
Degrade him more! Tell him how useless and disgusting he is! Fuck, you've unlocked something in him. He's never been treated so poorly before, and he's entranced.
He's under your thumb, this time. You seem to be enjoying it too, so what's the harm? There's no way you're ever losing a game, by the way. You've unlocked simp Edge.
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Double Down
He has no clue. He doesn't care much about your degrading comments. He's been rejected before, and he'll still go after you no matter how many times you tell him to die.
DD absolutely REFUSES to kill you, even when you gamble your life. You'd have to get him real mad before he even considers it, which is very difficult to do. When Edge tells him he HAS to, he says he's quitting his job then. He doesn't care. He'll walk out with you on his arm (you looking less than amused) whether you like it or not.
So, now he's unemployed and attached at your hip. You're annoyed. This weird mortal is clinging to you like a weird dog with separation anxiety. He looks happy, though.
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Jackpot
He's already prepared to worship you, so don't worry about being a god. Nothing will change, he adores you either way.
If you gamble your life and lose, he's broken. Forever. Doesn't matter if you don't actually die, he's shattered. You did it on purpose? Even worse. He's never going to forgive himself.
He's hardly what he used to be. He won't eat or sleep. By this point, Gambit probably hates you. Jackpot's by your side, weakly clinging to your hand whenever he can be. He doesn't show up to work, either.
You've ruined him.
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Gambit
Gambit isn't sure how to feel once he finds out. He ends up with the information on accident when Edge tells him, but he doesn't know how to react. He doesn't change much, maybe gets a bit more shy around you.
He loves you regardless, don't get him wrong. He just doesn't feel worthy of being around you.
If you gamble your life and lose, he'll calmly escort you out of the casino to give you a stern lecture on the value of life. You're half asleep by the time he finishes.
He'll keep you tied up if it means he can keep you safe, no matter how immortal you are.
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rainba · 2 days
Note
What if... A darling hitman
Yans think they are after them for love but when they see their loved one holding a gun to their head all the pieces fall into place
What would they think at that moment? :0
- 🔮 anon
The ultimate betrayal… Having their undying love be met with the cold, unforgiving end of a gun. hehe (o^ ^o)
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It would take Kairos a second to process what’s going on. The two of you standing in darkness, the cold gun pressed against his head as warm tears pour from his eyes. He gave you everything– he thought that someone in this world had finally reciprocated his love. But he was wrong. So, so wrong.
After suffering a betrayal so deep, Kairos would grab the gun and push it closer to his head, begging you to go ahead and pull the trigger.
“If… If I’m t-to die, I… I want it to be by your hands!”
Even if you don’t actually love him, can you at least lie to him one last time? Will you spare his shattered heart and grant him one last wish…?
Please, tell him that you love him. That's the only thing he wants.
The world truly is nothing more than cruel.
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With Luka, the betrayal would hit him deep. In his mind, he could always tell something was off about you– but he could never quite pinpoint what exactly was wrong. And when the gun is pushed against his skull, that’s when the pieces connect. He finally understands the full picture.
Hurt. Enraged. Bitter. He feels everything all at once.
For one of the first times in his life, he would start to tear up, but he’d refuse to go down without a fight. Luka would do everything in his power to take the gun away from you, and if he manages to succeed, he’ll swiftly kidnap you. You never loved him? You only ever intended to have him dead?
That’s alright. He can fix that. Once he has you locked up in his house, he’ll have you fall in love with him regardless of your original intentions.
But if you manage to win the fight, he'll stop at nothing to have you die alongside him. You... The one person in his life to ever make him feel alive– you’re the one who kills him.
How ironic… ღ
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drdemonprince · 2 days
Note
CW: suicide, commitment, psychosis
My sibling is someone who unequivocally says being committed saved their life and was not inherently traumatic outside of the extremely traumatic mental health crisis that led to it. (However, our local psych ER/psych inpatient is probably one of the better ones and does not use any kind of restraints or force medication. They seem to have an okay track record explaining what the pills are and asking if the person can try them, which I get can still be coercive in some cases, but worked well with my sibling. Also, I was visiting them as much as I could every day, which they found really helpful, and I could keep my eye out for any issues.)
My sibling (~30) had a severe psychotic episode that doesn't quite fit any current DSM diagnosis. They went 0 to 100 from no suicidal ideation to actively attempting suicide in front of me due to delusions about being hunted by supernatural entities who would torture them. They finally could not sleep for days, and therefore I could not go to sleep because they'd try to kill themself. They were not dangerous to me intentionally, but one or both of us could have been hurt by me trying to take a weapon from them. They could not think at all outside of panic and delusions and had no short term memory, so they describe themself as having been incapable of understanding their condition. They weren't able to engage with any social interventions, because how would you have the time or bandwidth if you were living in terror of demons about to torture you and couldn't remember conversations from an hour ago?
They went to the hospital voluntarily after being stopped from attempting, but then they were committed because of aforementioned memory issues when they shortly informed the doctors they had to leave and kill themself. In a moment of lucidity, they were glad to be there, but they just couldn't stay lucid from moment to moment. Trying to get outpatient help in the weeks all this was escalating had been fruitless, with a lot of dismissive assholes, but these particular inpatient docs actually cared and asked how they were doing and figured out a dose of antipsychotics that made it all just... stop like a switch had been flipped.
Once they weren't operating under the terrifying delusions, they 100% did not want to die and were so relieved I stopped them and got help from others when it was becoming too dangerous to us both for me to intervene alone. I get that this kind of crisis is really different from living with chronic suicidal ideation or depression, which is something I personally deal with on a low level, but it was a genuine, terrifying situation where someone's expressed wishes were the opposite of what they wanted when they could understand their situation more fully.
I am allowed to share this, but if this is somehow not on anon, please delete it. Stigma about psychosis is REAL.
Yo this is super helpful, thank you for sharing. One of the trickier aspects of upholding disabled people's autonomy and taking a harm reductionist approach to suicide and self-harm is the fact that people in a state of psychosis may temporarily want something they would otherwise never want.
Though with some experience working through it with a caring and informed support network, it is possible to stand in for the person's stated desires and help them get through the period of lacking lucidity -- and of course psychosis can become a lot less destabilizing with time. i know someone who relies on a close friend to help ground them when they're having delusions and hallucinations -- a quick phone call is now enough to convince them they don't need to kill themselves, but that's after years of getting used to having psychotic states.
glad you and your sibling found solutions and made it through this okay.
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t0ast-ghost · 3 days
Text
S3 EP13 (Elaan Of Troyius) fully don’t know what to expect.
Start it up:
- Spock and McCoy banter in the turbo lift and Kirk gives them a smile before leaving
- Kirk is immediately a little hostile towards the ambassador
- I like how Kirk just looks around like ‘guess we should bow now’
- They stopped Spock’s infodump to Kirk. Sad.
- “Captain, the Dolman is dissatisfied with the quarters provided.” Spock is already done. So done.
- things getting thrown
- Kirk is also done. He’s so done.
- I like episodes where they’re on the ship with someone vaguely annoying
- Time to play ‘who does the random spaceship belong to’
…. That’s right! It’s the Klingons!
- Oh yep. She killed the ambassador. Who would’ve guessed. (Edit: he lived lol)
- “A man whose flesh is once touched by the tears of a woman of Elas has his heart enslaved forever.” So.. who’s it going to be? I’m guessing Kirk right now
- She should have the right not to marry someone. Like it’s not great that they’re basically selling her even if it’s for peace
- Every time someone slaps them, they just slap them back
- Kirk is THAT BITCH
- Did the red shirt get his neck snapped?
- Kirk planned to have Spock shoot the guards. He’s feral omg
- YEAH! Bite him!
- what. this is her problem? Or no she was manipulating him to make him touch her tears. Great… and they’re kissing
- WAIT SHE ASKED ABOUT THE SPANKING (whoever said Star Trek was for kids is a fucking liar. Side note: why did my parents show me TNG)
- Her guards are working with the Klingons aren’t they
- WHAT IS THIS
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- They both caught him
- Kirk’s walk over to McCoy and Spock is so awkward
- “(Talking to Spock)Well, we’re in trouble. (Turns to Kirk) Now, listen, Jim. Petri told Christine that the Elasian women have a sort of biochemical substance in their tears that acts like a super love potion, and according to him, it doesn’t wear off.” Only Star Trek would have tears that act like a super love potion
- Stop just letting people on the bridge
- Only people who can break Kirk of his love potion are Spock and McCoy
- Kirk’s character is all about loneliness. How someone can be captain, an entire crew to watch over and command, but he’s always lonely. Spock and McCoy may be the closest thing he has, but they can never know about his feelings because he has to protect them under any and all circumstances
- Swivel chair
- “I’d say our strategy wasn’t totally effective.” I like how Spock just nods along with him
- “I want to die with you.” He considers this a minute because imagine that, someone who wants to be there with you as you die
- IT WAS A NECKLACE OF DILITHIUM CRYSTALS ?!?
- She gives him her dagger..
- “Bye.” “Good-bye.” I love the shortness of their farewells.
- damn McCoy was so happy to bring the antidote to Spock (he wants Spock to be happy with him)
- “In this particular instance, Doctor, I agree with you.” McCoy is shocked
- They share this look and then remember not to kiss on the bridge
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This episode was… interesting.
Masterpost
Episode written by John Meredyth Lucas
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nekkomaa · 2 days
Text
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Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.
Notes: I'm really surprised that I managed to write another chapter in such a short space of time. I hope this cheers you up a bit! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!
I'd love to know if you'd prefer a protagonist with a name, or a “reader” protagonist
Portuguese version published on Wattpad
Word count: 2038
“You know I love you very much, don't you, darling?” David smiles at you, a venomous smile, his gaze containing a silent threat, daring you to do something wrong while he's away.
“I know. I love you too.” You answer, it's disgusting to have to say it, you've hesitated many times before, but you knew the hard way that it was better to go with the flow of things, to let things go his way. Here, you're nothing. “Come back safe.” You say, as he waves to you and walks through the front door. Secretly you wish he'd never come back.
“I'll be back soon.” He replies, his voice muffled as the door closes.
You don't move, not until you stop listening to the sound of the car's tires against the gravel. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you move towards the bedroom. You'd go back to sleep, it was late and you didn't even like the idea of playing the good wife and saying goodbye. At this point you were in an internal struggle, not knowing what to feel, but at the same time you felt nothing, you felt hatred for him.
You climb the steps slowly, the darkness of the house becomes gloomy, as you face the large corridor that extends to the end of the stairs, you take a moment to look at the white door at the end of the corridor, you think about trying to open it in a moment of courage, he wasn't home, he couldn't stop you from opening the door.
You give up when you remember that the door would obviously be locked, David wasn't stupid, he knew that someone could try to open the door while he was away, whether it was you or the maid.
Opening the bedroom door, you are surprised by a cold wind coming from the window, a strange feeling of fear and doubt comes over you. You're sure that when you left the room, the window was closed, as was the whole house. With hesitant steps you walk to the window, there is no light except the new moon shining outside. When you reach the window, you feel your body shiver, the sensation of being watched passes through you for a moment, you look down cautiously and discover that the guard who is always at the door is passed out and tied up in front of the jeep they use for work.
Your heart races, you hear his pulse in your ear, you're stunned for a moment, not knowing whether to take the opportunity to flee, or whether you should hide, someone has passed out the guard and tied him up, just when David isn't at home, and by chance the window is open, your window.
Your thoughts are racing, you know there's someone in the house with you, but how did he get in so quickly? David left a few seconds ago, could you have wasted more than half an hour just climbing the stairs?
With a quick breath you feel the need to look for any kind of weapon to defend yourself, whoever got in here certainly wouldn't spare your life. You look next to you, a tacky lamp is there, and next to it a medium-sized plant pot, you grab it without thinking too much, as you turn back you squint your eyes trying to see into the partially lit room, you notice something moving towards you and you don't hesitate to throw the pot in its direction.
You can see the silhouette of a person, the vase hits them and falls to the floor, apparently it didn't even have an effect, you're not sure where you hit it, but you knew that if you didn't hit a vital part you were screwed.
He kept advancing, the black shadow was fast, you dodged by reflex when you hit him the first thing you saw, a pillow was thrown and distracted him long enough for you to run towards the door. Panic filled your veins, you would be killed, you would die living a dull life shrouded in panic.
Anger fills your senses, you hate it all, you hate David, you hate this house, you hate looking in the mirror and seeing a shell of what you were with each passing day, you hate yourself.
You can only hear your quick steps towards the kitchen, you only hear the rustle of clothes behind you, whatever is chasing you moves like a ghost.
The sharp turn you make at the door seems to delay your pursuer by a few seconds, giving you time to grab the first pan you see in front of you to defend yourself, the kitchen is brighter than your bedroom thanks to the large windows it has, you can see what's chasing you as soon as you turn back, But you didn't even have time to register what it looked like, as in the blink of an eye he was inches away from you with something in his hand, without wasting any time you hit the pan on his hand and then on what you thought was his head, the sound of the pan hitting echoed in the empty house.
Your luck seemed to run out the moment that pot hit his head. You felt your throat tighten immediately afterwards, the air being cut from your lungs.
You could take a closer look at what was chasing you now, unfortunately it was in the worst way, and not with the chaser passed out from the pan.
Everything was incredibly black except for the white skull staring at you in the dark, you couldn't see the eyes through the holes, but you could feel them piercing you. The tightness in your throat loosened slightly as soon as he saw that you weren't squirming. The pan that had been in your hand was forgotten on the floor, the counter behind you was clean, there were no weapons to use, if you wanted to get out alive, you had to be smart.
Anger and fear were strongly intertwined with each other, but anger in a fragile body like yours wouldn't solve anything. Fear, however, only served to make you soft, the survival instinct seemed to work the other way around, telling you to stay still, as if your predator couldn't see you, as if your predator didn't have his hand on your throat.
“What…” Your voice comes out lower and shakier than you first intended, but you continue anyway. “What do you want from me?” The man in front of you brings his second hand into your field of vision, the knife glinting on the moon, his body trembling with anticipatory fear. He realizes this and lowers the knife until it is facing his face.
“No funny business, okay?” He says to you and carefully releases you, his gloved hand moves away from your neck and he signals for you to remain silent. You just nod back. There were no loopholes to escape, so collaborating at the moment seemed the right thing to do.
He ties your wrists together in front of you and uses them to guide you into the room where he entered. He sits you on the bed and faces you. He seemed big before, but now, this was much more than you first thought. That made it worse, he seemed much more indimidating with her.
“You're going to tell me what I want to know, if you lie, I'll take action.” He remains where he is staring at you for a while longer before signaling for you to speak. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His voice remains low, he doesn't seem to care, anyway, even if you were completely hysterical screaming and calling for help, no one would come, he's passed out the only guard in the house, and in the place where you live, so far away from everything, it's obvious that no one would ever hear you.
“Where's your husband? Where did he go?” His voice was harsh, to the point. He seemed out of patience.
“I-I… don't know” His voice faltered, he took it as a lie. The knife from before soon came into view again, he twirled it between his fingers like a threat.
“I'm sure we fought before, didn't we? No lies, or should I make it clear that I'm armed?” His voice showed a lack of patience, and you certainly wouldn't want to test his patience.
“I swear.” You tried again.
“Little thing, if you're going to lie you should try to be more convincing, anyone swears. Now tell the truth, where is your shitty little husband?” He takes a step closer, the knife still twirling between his fingers. The movement would be mesmerizing if it weren't for this situation. “Aren't you going to tell me that a good wife like you doesn't know where her husband is?” He teases, his voice now sounding sweet, a hint of amusement in it.
“I don't know where he is! You have to believe me!” You beg as he comes closer, the knife threatening you with every move.
“And why would I believe you, darling? As far as I know you're just pretending you don't know anything just to get your husband's fat ass off the hook.” The knife hovers inches from your neck, you swear you can feel the cold steel.
“I don't know who you are or what you want but if it's money or some kind of information I'm sorry you're talking to the wrong person!” You speak quickly, despair coursing through your veins, you're going to end up dead, and you haven't even had a chance to leave this place.
“You have to know something. He's not keeping you here for free.” He comes close to your ear. “Even if you are his pet, it's impossible that you don't know anything.” He steps back and watches your reaction.
Swallowing dryly, you remember the room at the end of the corridor, the place you never entered. “There is, there's a room at the end of the corridor.” You stutter as the knife lightly grazes your neck, stinging as he moves away from you.
“Yes? And what's in the room?” He asks.
“All the letters he receives are there, if there's any kind of information it's there.” You reply, the man seems satisfied with your answer.
“I said you knew something.” He comments, his voice now more amused, something like a mockery of I knew it! “You're coming with me.” He pulls you up and leads you into the hallway. The white door at the end faces you, you hope to escape from this house as soon as this man leaves with whatever he's looking for, if you stay, and David comes back, you're sure to be dead.
The man turns the handle and the door doesn't move. He snorts in annoyance and pushes you behind him.
“I don't have the key.” You say as soon as he pushes you back.
“Well, I never said I needed one.” He replies quickly. You watch him step away from the door and kick it, the door opens on the second kick and soon he's pulling you into the room with him.
“I told you what I know, you're going to let me go… right?” The uncertainty in his voice is palpable, you wince as he throws you a look. With the light in the room now, you can see his eyes. A deep brown stares back at you, if before he was intimidating even without seeing you properly, imagine now that those eyes pierce right through to your soul from across the room.
“I don't usually leave witnesses, you little thing.” That's the only thing he says to you.
Credits for the mask used in the second image: @Mcmorthern on twitter.
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