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bluerosefox · 5 months

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The Drakes

It's been years since the Bats had seen Red Robin much less Tim Drake-Wayne. It started with a rather dumb argument that after years of holding back his tongue and the stress of being a TEENAGE CEO that Tim finally ripped into them.

They were too stunned by the end of his speech, him also admitting that yes he has his own problems and mistakes but at least he's trying to make amends or get over himself unlike others. It was their prolonged silence that was the final straw for him it seemed though, because Tim finally announced he was done, he was done bleeding for those that kept him on the edge of the family and that he wanted to rest, and with that Tim turned and left the Batcave for the final time.

They of course didn't take Tim's retirement announcement seriously, after all Tim was the last person other than Bruce they all believed would ever leave the life of a vigilante and a hero behind, and they all knew Bruce would keep working on the 'mission' even as a frail old man. It took them a few weeks before one of them finally decided to go see Tim and try to... talk about everything he said.

Only when they reached Tim's Nest, they discovered it was empty and he was no where to be found did they realize he was serious. It was a quick call to Wayne Enterprises to see if he was in and Tam no doubt holding back her sharp response to them that she told them that Tim had stepped down from CEO weeks ago and hasn't been heard from since. The one who went to see Tim immediately called the others, which sent many of them onto goose chase of false leads, arguments, and pointing blame.

Despite looking for their long lost Red Robin, he was good at hiding his tracks and any who might have an idea where he could be weren't talking.

So yeah it's been a while since the Bats had heard any news relating to their lost bird.

So imagine their surprise when Ra's latest attempt to upset the balance in their family again (did he want Damian to return as his heir? Take control over Gotham in the shadow? Upset Bruce? None of them honestly knew what his plan was anymore. Same old song and dance) and having captured them all that he brought up Tim to them. Or rather "shame the Detective is going to be late, but I'm sure his little family shall inform of things once he gets here."

None of them were expecting for Ra's to look away from them and with a snap of his fingers, three assassins brought forth into the room two others. One was being dragged by two assassins, black hair, pale skin, and lean swimmers build of a body. He looked roughly around the age Tim would be. He was placed on the floor right by Ra's boots, arms and legs tied up, clearly but alarmingly breathing low and slow from the raise and fall of their chest. He wore a simple T-shirt but had dark jacket that was covered in stars, NASA logos, and other galaxy themed patches all over it, his dark jeans also held some star patches but also held everyday stains from being outside in the grass and other normal day to day thing. All in all this person seems like a normal civilian individual and none of the Bats knew why Ra's had taken him.

The other assassin that had walked into the room was holding a toddler, a girl from the little pigtails on her messy head indicated. Her hair was just as dark as the passed out male by Ra's and her skin was shade healthier than him. She wore grass stained and messy paints caked overalls with a plan shirt under it and two different kinds of kids shoes (one was a green with dinosaurs and the other blue with little stars). She, unlike the young man on the floor, was awake and was looking around the room while sucking her thumb in clear distress, she also used her free hand that wasn't in her mouth to push the assassin holding onto her away from her as far as she could and was squirming her tiny legs enough to kick their sides. Thankfully the assassin didn't look too hostile or upset meaning she wasn't doing to much damage or being too annoying.

"What a lovely family the Timothy has gained for himself don't you think? I will admit Daniel put up a rather interesting fight, it was only due to us having the element of surprise that we managed to take him down and his little Eleanor has his fighting spirit it seems." Ra's said as he slowly reached over to the toddler to lightly fiddle (just to unnerve them as well) with her hair. However the moment he touched her hair, the little girl's eyes flashed from frosty blue to neon bright green and she had spat her thumb out of her mouth in order to hiss like a cat at him, her little feet kicking hard enough to cause a small 'oomph' from the one holding her.

Ra's gave an amused chuckle as he stared at the toddler in fascination before also casting his gaze down at the passed out young man, remembering the way his eyes also had flashed from blue to green and the amount of power he had saw bubble to the surface when they had ambushed the two in their home. As Ra's said before, if they hadn't had the element of surprise on their side when they went after Timothy's little family it wouldn't had worked. No doubt little Eleanor Drake was a hint of power Daniel Drake held.

Ra's turned to look at the Bats, and could clearly see the emotions on their faces which amused Ra's deeply, and couldn't help but say "Although I wasn't expecting him to marry a being with pure Lazarus blood flowing in their veins. Quite a interesting discovery that was. And that his offspring seemed to carry it also from birth. What lovely and priceless boons he has granted the League to have once he joins us."

Ra's could clearly see the questioning, fear (for the family in his clutches), confusion, and disbelief on the Bats faces and knew it would be so entertaining to watch the little.. family reunion he had set into motion.

He was so amused watching Batman the others he never noticed the light twitch on Daniel's face or the shifting breathing pattern. When he would later check to see of the large amount of tranquilizers they had given Daniel was still in-effect he was none the wiser that it had already wore off and that Danny was merely bidding his time for a opening.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #crossover #blue rambles #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #Tim and Danny had meet when they were 13 and 14 #they meet during Tim's training in Paris when becoming Robin and Danny had wanted some time alone to think after beating his future evilsel #Danny had flown far to clear his head and didnt notice he was in Paris until he ran into Tim and Tim tried talking French to him #they did become friends #because this is during then time Bruce wasnt... ok. Tim wasnt willing to tell him he made a ghosty friend #thus kept Danny his little secret #Danny was the person Tim talked to about everything #well almost. He didnt wanna burden his friend during the time Kon and Bart died or when Batman was thought to be dead too #Danny had felt hurt during that tbh and bit did strain their friendship for a bit but they talked about it.#Danny likes talking to Tim because he gets it #he gets and understands the stress of being a teen hero with so much responsibility #understands the worry and stress that his friends or Jazz dont get #Tim was the one that helped Danny understand that despite his parents loving him. that their work should never ever come first #Eleanor is Danielle btw #she had destabilized a few years ago #and only thanks to CW Frostbite and Tim's help they managed to save what they could of her #meaning she had to be deaged with Tim's human DNA to stabilizes her halfa genes #Tim is not going to be a happy when he storms Ra's little base btw #not at all #and neither is Danny tbh #brain dead

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tvseries-writings · 24 days

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From a great power comes great responsibilities

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader

Plot: Reader goes beyond her limits with her powers to help others (exhausts her powers)

TW: death for a moment(?)

It all happens so fast that you don't realize it until the building starts collapsing over your heads. You see a chunk of concrete the size of a car fall on top of you, and before your brain can connect, your body acts on instinct, carrying you, Daisy, and Bobbi out of the building. You concentrate on teleporting all three of you, intact, inside the quinjet where Jemma, Natasha and Wanda are running the operation, or at least, were before everything went to hell.

You land on the floor of the plane with a thud, falling forward and coughing hard to expel the dust that has filled your lungs. You glance at your girls making sure they are okay and then, you cross your arms to teleport again but Natasha's hand on your left arm stops you.

"Don’t even think about it, everything is collapsing, you can't teleport in there. It is suicide and you are not going to save anyone if you are dead, do you understand me?"

You swallow, watching the building collapse, and so, with a small smile on your lips, you lean toward Natasha and kiss her. It lasts a few seconds and she is distracted enough to let go of her grip on you.

"I'm sorry but I have to do this," you whisper and then, you close your eyes and feel the earth vanish from under your feet. You focus on the 'one safe place inside the building that you know with absolute certainty will not collapse. The beauty of a secret Hydra base was the bunkers, after all. Those crazy fucking Nazis had thought that sacrificing at least a hundred of their own people was a fair price to pay to take out three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and they had blown up the load-bearing walls of the building with a simple and very trivial click. Nazis, they never change.

When you open your eyes again and realize you are not dead or under some boulder, you gloat internally and mentally thank Natasha for forcing you to learn the floor plan of that base. You remember perfectly her stern look when she had presented you with the mission and forced you to learn every single detail by heart. At that moment you had hated it but now...now you really wanted to kiss her.

You raise your hands in the air when you notice a score of soldiers pointing their guns at you, hiding behind them their "incentives," as Hydra liked to call them. Wives, husbands, children, mothers and fathers hid behind those men and women in black with a crest that did not belong to them.

"It's okay, I just want to get you out of here. I can teleport you all but in multiple groups."

You curse yourself internally, you know you'll never be able to take this much effort, the last time you tried to teleport five people together you fainted and were unconscious for six hours you can't even imagine what would happen with forty, including soldiers and families.

You take a deep breath and think quickly about how you can take everyone out of there. The floor under your feet trembles and just as the children begin to cry, the earpiece in your ear comes alive.

"Y/n, damn it, Daisy can't hold it much longer...you have to get out of there, do you hear me? The structure won't hold much longer" Bobbi yells in your ear and you nod, well aware that she cannot see you, before giving her a verbal response.

"I'm trying honey, thanks for the advice though."

You mumble sarcastically, no longer listening to what your girlfriends are shouting at you over the comms and focusing instead on getting the people in front of you to safety. The soldiers lower their weapons and pull off the bands on your arm, throwing them to the ground.

"Are there others in the base?"

"They're all dead, ma'am" the lieutenant, or who you think is the lieutenant, answers you by looking around as if to confirm what she just said. Your stomach clenches at the thought of all those people who died for a cause they didn't even believe in but you quickly shake off that feeling, you don't have time for it. You quickly count them, noting that there are twenty-five of them before thinking about how to get them all out of there safely.

"So… I can take all the children outside."

You point to the little ones; some of them are crying while others are looking at you with wide, fearful eyes but charged with the same admiration and hope with which a child looks at his favorite superhero. There are nine children but you can make it, they are worth four times one adult, right? You can even take four adults with you, then; you have to do it, you won't have the strength to make three more trips, you are sure.

You gather them around you and have each of them touch arms or legs, depending on where their little hands reach, and do the same with the four women, two old and two young, who accompany them. As they say, women and children first.

"Y/n, we have set up a camp out here, four hundred meters from the base in a southwesterly direction."

-What the hell is the South?" you think, before shrugging your shoulders and closing your eyes. The feeling of the floor vanishing beneath your feet is not something you will ever get used to, if you have to be honest. You hear the children scream, whether from excitement or fear you can't tell, and then, in less than a second, you find yourself at that poorly set up base camp Jemma told you about a few seconds ago. A little dizziness forces you to lean on the ground, on the hot sand beneath you, and small drops of blood color the grains beneath your fingers. You raise your hand, reaching up your nose and finding the source of the bleeding. Children are being rounded up by an officer but you fail to recognize him as your girlfriends run toward you. Jemma has a first aid kit in her hand, but before she can set about playing cheerful surgeon with you, you scan to the side, staggering on your own feet.

"I'm fine, I've got to get back in there."

"You can't stand y/n, you can't-"

You frown, noticing only in that moment that Daisy is not there with all of you.

"Where's Dee?"

"She fainted, tried to absorb as many shocks as possible. She's collapsed y/n and that's also what's going to happen to you if you continue, you're already in a very bad way."

Jemma lifts your head, causing your gazes to cross and looking critically at your pupils and the nosebleed that doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping coming out. You back away a few steps, looking into their eyes.

"Go to Daisy, I'll take care of this," you say and then disappear again.

You repeat the same process as before, surrounding yourself with six soldiers and watching the remaining six.

"I will come back for you, I promise."

And as you disappear into thin air, another tremor shakes the ground.

The landing is more abrupt this time. Your heart beats so weakly that you feel as if oxygen is not getting to your brain. Contrary to what you expected, Natasha grabs you by the arms before your face can splat on the scorching sand. You struggle to stay awake and if so out that you don't even notice Daisy, pale, sweaty, and trembling, over the shoulders of the former Russian spy. You blink a few times to focus on the image in front of you and finally the sounds reach your ears again.

"Y/N!"

Natasha shakes you by the shoulders and you awaken from your stupor. The worried gazes of Wanda, Jemma, Daisy, Natasha and Bobbi are fixed on you as Natasha gently lays you on the ground and Jemma places a bottle of water on your lips, helping you drink it. As soon as you remember where you are, you try to sit up but Daisy stops you, simply putting a hand on your chest to keep you down.

"I'm-I'm fine, mm-missing six people-D-I have to an-go."

You stammer, the effort you've put in doesn't even make you able to utter a coherent and clea sentence. Another jolt shakes the floor beneath your feet and Daisy groans in pain, bringing her hands to her head and squeezing her eyes shut. That small advantage allows you to roll over and with an absurd effort you manage to get to your feet and disappear back under their gazes.

When you get to the bunker, the first thing you do is fall to your knees and throw up. You completely empty your stomach under the disgusted gaze of the six soldiers in front of you. You wipe your mouth with your suit, wrinkling your nose at the disgusting taste of vomit in your mouth and leaning against the wall to pull yourself up without passing out. You must hold on a little longer, just a little, and then you can collapse to the ground.

The six soldiers surround you-diligently avoiding the pool of vomit on the ground and the blood that keeps coming out of your nose-and in a moment you are out.

As soon as you hit the sand, you sprawl to the ground. Your cheek scrapes against the sand and this time Natasha is not quick enough to catch you. Jemma drops to her knees next to you, turns you so that your face is facing her but your eyes are closed. She checks your chest and when she notices that the latter does not rise or fall, she checks your pulse before a gasp of terror and fear escapes her lips.

"Bobbi, adrenaline and defibrillator. Now!"

Natasha tilts your head back, her eyes glazed over as she opens your mouth and blows air into your lungs. Jemma begins compressions.

1,2,3,4,5

Nat puts air into your lungs and your chest rises and falls once before falling back inert. Wanda's sobs and Jemma's barely stifled ones are the only sound before a crack makes your girls nauseous.

"It's okay, it happens during compressions," Jemma's voice trembles as she says it and then, she performs another round of compressions. Your arms burn but that pain is nothing compared to the dull ache that is burning in your chest at that moment.

1,2,3,4,5

Natasha forces your chest up again and then Bobbi arrives with defibrillator and adrenaline in hand. She is sweating and her heart is racing. She has never run so fast in her entire life.

"Bobbi, take my place."

Jemma continues with compressions, then, on her go, Bobbi gets in place and follows her own rhythm.

"Come on rockstar, it's not your time yet, come on."

Bobbi's breath barely hides the tremor in her voice but not the tears that line her cheeks. It takes two defibrillator shocks before your heart starts beating again.

"Oh my God" Wanda bursts into tears, leaning over your face and gently kissing your forehead, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair off your face.

"Good, you did great love" Natasha whispers, taking your hand in her own as Bobbi laughs from relief.

Daisy instead stands by, frowning, and Jemma is the first to notice.

"Dee, what's wrong?"

Daisy looks at you and then, nods.

"Something's wrong, her heart, it doesn't have the usual vibes, non-"

And then, your heart stops beating again.

"Fuck, Bobbi give me the adrenaline."

Jemma Simmons never swears but there are always exceptions.

Jemma performs two more rounds of compressions before injecting adrenaline into your chest. She hooks you up to one of the monitors that Fitz had devised a few months earlier, at the request of the biochemist, for just such situations, and when he sees that the line remains flat, his heart, too, seems to stop for a few seconds.

Your body is shaken by the shock emitted by the defibrillator; it arches upward and then falls back to the sand as hard as a puppet whose strings have been suddenly dropped. The line remains flat and Jemma's tears now gush without limit.

"No no, Jem you have to try again. She can't, she can't..."

Wanda bursts into tears, looking at your lifeless body lying on the ground. Natasha punches the ground with such force that the crack that can be heard echoing cannot mean anything good. Bobbi cries as she takes the former Russian spy's hand and gives her a look. Anything not to think about what just happened.

"No, it doesn't end like that."

"Daisy...she-"

Daisy takes your lifeless body in her hands, shaking it by the shoulders.

"Do you understand me? You can't fucking die, you can't. You promised us, you stubborn idiot, you promised us!"

The Inhuman hits your chest hard, her fist closed, and without her really being able to control what she's doing, a powerful jolt goes through your chest and crashes against the ground, creating a small crack beneath you, and then, the flat line of the monitor disappears, replaced by regular little roller coasters.

"W-what?" Daisy whispers, sitting on the floor suddenly much more tired than before from the effort she has just made. Jemma hurries to personally check your pulse and when she feels the pulse under her fingers, a shuddering breath of joy leaves her lips.

"I...I think your tremors got her heart beating again Dee."

Jemma does not detach her fingers from your wrist, lulling herself into the sweet sensation of your heartbeat, albeit weak. Wanda covers her face, bursting into tears, and the other girls also let out a liberating cry, releasing all the tension and fear they had felt up to that moment.

...................................................................................................

Your body takes five days to heal just enough to open your eyes. You realize you are in the Quinjet's medical capsule within seconds, by now you have been there so many times over the years that you know the smallest details: the familiar beeping sound of your heartbeat, the red button to call Jemma just below the lamp behind the back of the bed, the IV that feeds drugs into your veins, and the glass from which Jemma checks that you are not doing anything the doctor has forbidden you to do. A little unfair of her since she is the doctor. You feel as if a truck has hit you and then a car has run over you to complete the job. You raise your hand to scratch your nose but the oxygen mask prevents you from doing so so you squeeze it between your fingers to remove it but just as you are about to do so, a hasty knock against the clear glass causes you to smile a small smile of exasperation. Even before you turn around, in fact, you already know that you will see your beautiful doctor on the other side. To your surprise, however, she is not alone.

"You just woke up and already you want to take off your mask, I have no words really. Who is the doctor here? You have to do what I tell you if you want to get better, between you and Dais I really don't know who is worse."

Jemma admonishes you and you blush, feeling like a child being scolded by his parents.

"Hey, what do I have to do with this now?" Daisy pouts before slinging herself into your arms. You can't help but notice that his forearm is completely bandaged. When he notices where your gaze points, the Inhuman shrugs.

"It was worth it."

She slides the mask off your face, kissing you with so much passion and love that it leaves you breathless for a few seconds before the Inhuman promptly rushes to slip the mask back over your face.

"You scared us malyshka" Natasha approaches you and her plastered hand makes you frown. The Russian blushes, and for some reason you realize you don't really need to ask her how she broke her hand. Wanda caresses your cheek, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

"How are you feeling detka?"

"I'm just a little tired but I'm fine; exactly what happened?"

Their faces darken and that joy you had seen quickly fades.

"You collapsed, your heart couldn't take the strain, and we had to revive you twice." Bobbi's voice trembles as she says this and you reach out your hand toward her; the blonde grabs it and intertwines your fingers, turning a small smile to you.

"You were really a rockstar but if you do that again, I think we might actually kill you."

"Oh yes, don't think we haven't thought about what punishment to give you. Besides not being able to use your powers for at least four months-"

"What? Four months? But that's an eternity-" you jerk back to your seat, removing your mask and immediately regretting it as your vision blurs and the pain in your ribs increases exponentially, so much so that you lean to the right and vomit into the only thing you can grab.

Jemma strokes your back while Wanda holds your hair as you empty the meager contents of your stomach. As soon as you finish, you are so weak that dizziness takes over and your head falls back forward. If it weren't for Wanda, your face would be splattered against the floor. Jemma casts a glance at the heart monitor, and the value it reads makes your heart beat so fast you're afraid your chest might explode. She puts on your oxygen mask and then checks your vitals again.

Your pupils roll back, and as you fall helpless into Wanda's arms, the Sokovian panics a little.

"Hey, hey, detka wake up."

Wanda taps your cheeks but the only thing that changes is the further lowering of your heart rate.

"Jem, what's going on?" Daisy strokes your face, putting her hand on your chest to check your heart vibrations.

Jemma rummages through the drawers of the medical capsule and then, at the fifth drawer she ravages for something, she finally finds what she is looking for. In her hands she clutches a small glass case, inside which she glimpses a metal disk less than three centimeters in diameter and less than two centimeters thick.

As soon as she sees this, Bobbi cuts off your suit exposing your bare chest except for the three electrodes and the black bra you are wearing.

Jemma places the diskette on top of your left breast, just above your sternum, and presses the button above it. The disc blends in with your skin, being invisible to the human eye, and your body jerks, before your heartbeat returns to normal. The small jolt causes you to open your eyes and grimace in pain.

"What the hell-" you mutter, reaching out to massage your chest but Jemma stops you before you can.

"Hey, your heart rate was extremely low and I had to put a pacemaker on you. It's not invasive, Fitz designed one that blends in perfectly and doesn't give any problems whatsoever but you'll have to avoid EMPs but you can't take it off love, okay? I think the effort you put in was such that it damaged your heart, and without a peacemaker you could have another heart attack so until we find another solution and until we have done more tests, you can't use your powers."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as fatigue takes over.

"Rest now, we're here malyshka."

Natasha leaves a kiss in your hair while Daisy leaves one on your cheek. Jemma dims the lights to allow you to rest and Wanda lies next to you in the crib while Bobbi closes the glass curtains facing outward to give you all some privacy as you fall into dreamland surrounded by your girls.

You don't know it yet but one of those children you saved is going to become one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had so maybe a slightly battered heart is worth it.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave like, comment and if you like support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

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mockerycrow · 4 months

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Smut prompt 55 w/ gn reader and Soap would be so… 😏 like- I’m imagining it’s on a mission and they have to hide from the enemy and get crammed in a little closet together or sm, and to make matters worse the door gets blocked from the outside so now they have a few hours to kill before someone can evac them

KILLIN’ TIME (Soap x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

a/n; again, i’m so sorry this is late!! this is also quite short </3

prompt: "it's my thigh or nothing, im not helping you get off."

[WARNINGS; nsfw, dry humping, close proximity, readers genitals are not described, tension.]

You could not think of a worse situation than the one you find yourself in. You’re paired up with Soap for a stealth mission; go in undetected, grab the hard drives from the fourth floor and slip out with no casualties and no witnesses. Something that seemed so simple when Price laid the plan out to you two in the briefing room a few days beforehand. Seemed easy when he handed you both a copy of the blueprints of the structure. Seemed easy when Price had written down the guard’s patrol patterns—seemed so simple when he had an illustrated image of where the drives would be.

So, on the way out of the building with the said intel, when you find yourself breathing hard and pressed up against Soap with barely any room inside of a supply closet in the middle of the hallway when a guard suddenly changes their patrol patterns… Easy my ass, you can’t help but think to yourself. Your legs are intertwined, your vests and gear making it difficult to budge an inch. Soap’s chest continues to rise and fall harshly, his breaths muted as he looks through the crack of the door, his fingers grasping the doorknob to keep the door in place. “Fuck.” You whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as his breaths fan across the skin of your neck. Soap’s hand is planted on the closet’s wall next to your head to keep himself in place, despite the minimal room that’s available.

Your heart is pounding beneath your rib cage as you squirm to get comfortable—Soap’s hand, the one that isn’t holding onto the doorknob, shoots out and grasps your hip with a hiss under his harsh breathing. “Stop movin’,” Soap growls under his breath. You can feel his fingers dig into your hip, despite the thick set of jeans you’re sporting—much like his own. “Sorry,” You murmur back to him apologetically, your face feeling hot from proximity. “Uncomfortable.” Soap goes to speak before his eyes widen, his hand leaving the doorknob and hoving over the service pistol holster on his chest.

Your breath slows to a stop, holding it in as you hear your heart pumping harshly.. And footsteps right outside of the door. Soap is seemingly holding his breath as well as you two share a glance, the footsteps approaching the door. Your fingers hover the holster attached to your belt, ready to use deadly force if needed be, despite the need for stealth. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the guard just shuts the door all the way, the light from the crack dissipating. You and Soap hear the door click. You shut your eyes for a moment in anger, realizing neither Soap or you caught the fact that the closet door locks from the outside. Fuck.

Your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the newfound dark surroundings whilst listening to the guard walk back down the hall, likely around the corner. You let out a huff, your hand falling from your holster—Soap’s following suit. His hand still remains on your hip, yet with a looser grip. “Did he—” Soap mutters and you nod immediately, knowing he was wondering if he heard it right, that the guard locked the closet before muttering a yes when you realize he can’t see you. “Fuck.” Soap grunted out lowly, his voice almost like a growl with frustration mixed in. “Once the guard is far enough away, I’ll radio Price.” Soap mumbles lowly in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin.

You offer another nod, despite Soap’s inability to see, but you’re sure he got the message anyway by the slight movement. Soap’s body heat invades the small personal space you got left. The sweating that’s beginning to creep up your neck makes you squirm, one of your hands grasping Soap’s shoulder to adjust the way you’re standing. It earns you another hiss and his other hand grabbing your other hip, his fingers digging into the thick denim. “Stop, m’not kiddin’.” Soap warns you, his voice quiet—low. Something about his tone makes you shudder; something prickles under your skin. You almost want to blame it on the humidity of the closet from both your breathing and body temperatures, but you know it’s from you moving.

You’re not stupid, you know you likely rocked your hips too close to his—against, his, is more likely the answer. Soap’s fingers squeeze your hips once more, your hand squeezing his shoulder in response. “Sorry.” You repeat yourself from earlier. You’re closing your eyes again, willing the odd bubbling arousal that’s rising to simmer down, to leave. You’re silently cursing yourself as your breath hitches, impulsive sexual thoughts infiltrating your brain. You’re certain wires have gotten crossed and lost in your brain from putting as many years as you have into this job, no doubt about it when you feel the urge to grind your hips forward at the thought of one of the guards walking by whilst you’re biting on Soap’s neck.

“Jesus, Mary, an’ Joseph—” Soap groans under his breath, your eyes snapping open and going wide when you feel his thigh slot between your legs, pressing upwards. You gasp quietly, light pleasure rocking through you for a moment. Your other hand grabs his shoulder, your legs twitching around his thigh a bit. “S.. Soap?” You question quietly, but he interrupts you. “It’s my thigh or nothin’, I’m no’ helpin’ ye get off.” Soap grumbles in your ear. You think he’s mad for a moment, for only just a split second until your mind registers the needy undertone in his words.

One of your hands on his shoulder cups the back of his neck, your fingers knocking against his throat mic as you roll your hips against his thick thigh, and fuck does it feel good. Pleasure tingles up your spine as your back arches to find a good rhythm. Your hand on his shoulder plants itself right beside his head against the wall, a quiet whimper leaving your throat as you roll your hips again, his muscular thigh applying just the right amount of pleasure. Soap lets out a shaky breath as your hand on the nape of his neck slides up to the base of his skull, your fingers grabbing at his hair. Alas, due to his mohawk, your fingers slip until your hand creeps up and grabs at his dark strands right when they begin.

You rock your hips forward again, and again and again and again—

Soap rolls his hips against yours, ripping another pleasured noise out of your throat, pulling at his hair as despite Soap claiming he wouldn’t help you, he’s rolling his clothed cock against you, chasing that similar pleasure that’s on the tip of your tongue, his hand covering your mouth as a shaky whimper leaves your lips that’s a bit too loud for his liking.

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radiant-reid · 1 year

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Let It Snow

Summary: Apparently, getting stuck in a cabin with Spencer isn't too bad

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 1.0k

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"We're never going to get out of here by tomorrow." She complains, looking out the window where the snow is already probably half a foot high, and it's not forecasted to end any time soon.

Maybe the idea to use some of their remaining vacation time to retreat to a little cabin in the Vermont mountainside wasn't well thought out. Although it was almost Christmas break, apparently, it was too cold for serial killers to kill, so the BAU workload was light, and Hotch was more than willing to give them time off.

But the chance planes will be leaving, or even be able to land in DC if the cold snap had traveled south, is next to zero. By morning, they might be completely snowed in.

She turns back to look at her gorgeous boyfriend, who is snuggled under a blanket on the couch, tucked up like a burrito with a mug of tea on the table. "How are you not freaking out about this, Mr. Planner?"

"Doctor Planner." He jokes. "And I'm not freaking out because I like spending time with you here."

She smiles, stepping away from the window and to the couch where she sits next to him.

The inside of the cabin is cute yet luxurious, fitted with polished wood, a grand fireplace, and nice furniture. Most importantly, it's cozy, with one bedroom off the side of the open-planned kitchen and living room. The windows are impressive, floor-to-ceiling glass that shows the rows of pine trees covered in white snow. It's peaceful and quiet, and that's what they needed.

Spencer takes his arm out of the blanket and wraps it around her, pulling her closer. "I'm not worrying because, for once, I don't feel stressed." It's remarkable, really, since he's been stressed since he was five. "Who cares if we don't get home tomorrow or this week?" He asks rhetorically. "We've got food, power, a backup generator, and, this might be my bias, but good company."

She giggles, nuzzling further under his arm. "You're right."

"I always am." He reminds her. "Now get out of your coat and shoes, and come cuddle with me."

She obliges. It's warm enough with the fire on that she doesn't need anything more than sleep shorts and a hoodie of Spencer's. She hurries back to the couch where Spencer has set up snacks.

The news on the TV is on, a weather reporter talking about a snowstorm coming over the east coast. It's not good news. "Are you seeing this?" She asks Spencer, turning the volume up as she stands behind the couch to watch the show.

He nods, unphased as he pours more tea. "Let it snow, Y/n. Just let it snow." He instructs, taking the remote and turning the TV off.

Y/n huffs, sitting down next to him. He pulls her closer so they can both see out the wide windows at the settling sun and pink-painted sky.

"Don't you think it's so beautiful?" He asks. There's a soft wonder in his expression that's usually not there. She imagines it's what baby Spencer looked like opening his college textbooks at thirteen.

She places her fingers on his cheek while they both stare at the scenery. He hasn't shaved since they left, and it's a good look on him. "Not much snow growing up in Vegas, huh?" She asks.

"Maybe twice." He recalls, turning back to look at her. She leans forward to kiss him a couple of times, appreciating how warm he is to be around. "I don't mind it, though, because it makes me feel like a little kid now." He confesses. "Like I had encyclopedias when I was a kid and I still love learning facts, but it's not a novelty."

He could not be any cuter, all soft. It melts her heart completely. "You're adorable." She tells him, holding his cheek tighter when he tries to hide his blushing by turning away. "Stop. I'm your girlfriend, I'm allowed to say you're cute."

"Can we just lay here forever?" He wonders. "Stare at the bright stars, then watch the sun come up, see the snow falling all day, and look at the sunsets."

It does sound ideal. "We might need sleep, though." She reminds him.

Spencer's already thought of that. "We can do that here, too. I just want you to always be this close."

She leans forward to kiss him a few more times. "Sounds like a good plan." She agrees, pressing her cheek to his so they can both look out the window. "This is going to be my happy thought now." She admits. "You know when there's something horrific at work and you have to think of a good thing to balance it?"

Spencer can feel his happy thought changing as well. "What was it before?" He asks curiously.

"The first time you kissed me." She reveals.

He pulls back in shock. "God, really? That was horrible."

She shakes her head. Maybe he was sweating because of how nervous he was, and maybe his lips were only on hers for a short second and he had no idea what to do afterward, but it was them. "It was sweet."

"I'm just glad my Ph.Ds were a redeemable quality." He jokes.

She laughs with him. "Baby, everything about you is a redeemable quality, even though you don't have anything that needs to be redeemed."

"I really love you." He says softly.

"I really love you too." And she really doesn't hate unpredictable weather events anymore.

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lynnlovesthestars · 6 days

Text

Stealth check failed.

Pairing: Astarion x oc

Warnings and Genre: a bit of hurt comfort, fluff, smut, masturbation, sa survivor oc, anxiety mentions, ptsd allusion, panic attack mentioned, guilt, dealing with sex and ptsd- briefly touched cause i was too emotional to go too deep-, past sexual abuse mentions, oc backstory mentioned, feelings and not dealing with them..

Synopsis: Lynn doesn't expect to get caught, but mostly he doesn't expect to come clean on why he is the way he is. Avoidant.

Author notes at the end bc yes, and no taglist bc of the warnings.

Lynn had waited until everyone was retiring to their tents before sneaking off. Astarion had been particularly touchy and flirty and as much as he tried to focus on other things, like the tadpole in his brain, his body begged to differ.

He looked for a nice clearing, one where he could take all the time he needed and stay undisturbed, especially if he was going to end up in tears afterwards. He had initially planned to stay in his tent, keeping it quiet yet he recalled how harshly his body could react to touch and maybe it was better to leave the area. No chaos surge to hurt his friends.

Nevertheless even as he looked around for a calm spot, Lynn couldn’t help but think of how Astarion would grasp at Lynn’s hips and pull him closer whenever they needed to hide, or how he had winked and blew him a kiss while Lynn was trying to charm one of the Absolutists they had ran into. The thing that rendered completely helpless though, was when Lynn took a particularly hard hit, and Astarion caught him before he could reach the floor. Lynn was not sure how he didn’t die on the spot when Astarion whispered in his ear “Don’t die on me, darling. Who will be my midnight snack then?” Lynn was *never* going to recover from it.

As he strolled, he ended up finding a nice spot near a river, good enough to also bathe after he was done. He laid down the blanket near a tree, freed quickly from his clothes and laid down. The gentle breeze of the night caressed his skin as he took a deep breath and guided his palm to his aching cock already begging for relief, while he tried to free his mind.

Lynn could almost picture the feeling of Astarion’s fangs as they grazed his neck, his strong hands holding his hips possessively, the feeling of Astarion's legs wrapped around his hips, as he stroked himself and softly moaned Astarion's name as if it was a prayer.

His fist couldn't compare remotely with how Astarion would have felt around him, how his cum would drip all over Lynn's chest or how prettily Astarion would gasp his name. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. It was all he could imagine, no more Jenneleth, no more Tyrx, just Astarion consuming his very bones.

Astarion didn't stumble on him on purpose, he was gingerly looking for dinner when he heard his name, barely audible between the cicadas cries, and then it was impossible for him to ignore how familiar those *pretty* sighs were.

Lynn was not too far, sprawled over a blanket as he touched himself and softly moaned. Even though he was bigger, he still looked so delicate under the moonlight as his pale cheeks flushed, his hair were all over the place and his chest heaved just as quick as he pumped his fist desperately. Lynn had already stirred something in Astarion, more than once, but this image in front of his eyes? It was possibly the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“My my what a sight to behold '' He purred as he strode closer, before Lynn had even time to cover himself, Astarion was laying next to him, laying on his side to look down at the changeling. “I was quite enjoying the way you were moaning my name. '' His hand gently reached for Lynn's hip to rest on his stomach, teasingly brushing the tip of his cock as he grazed his ear and had him shiver under him.

“Shit I'm sorry-” Lynn was about to let out a string of apologies when Astarion hushed him, his hand trailing up and down his stomach, tracing his muscles.

“Don't you dare” Astarion tutted softly as he leaned forward and cupped his cheek. Lynn looked at him with soft round eyes, the stars reflected in the black void of his eyes. Astarion had to hold back from stealing a kiss from his lips as he traced Lynn's cheekbone. “I was enjoying the view” He smiled as he kissed his neck before pulling him in his arms completely. Lynn's head rested on his chest, his back pressed against Astarion's cold skin as the elf wrapped around him despite being smaller. He could smell the sweetness of his blood, inviting him to take a bite as the other laid there, easing down from the tension. Astarion gently tilted Lynn's head asking silently for approval and earning a nod.

Lynn, as he felt the other’s lips brush against his neck, he breathlessly reached for his cock again, his palm working hard to please himself. “Such a good boy” Astarion murmured as he sunk his nails in Lynn’s hip while the other rutted desperately in his fist. There was something about his compliment that left the changeling breathless and shaking, loving the way it rolled off his lips and stuck to him. It was like a sweet torture, as he tried to keep himself together on all possible levels.

Astarion gently grazed his fangs over Lynn pulse point, looking for those pretty wounds where he'd sunk his teeth into countless of times already and soon Lynn was taken over the pang. It was so exhilarating as it was quickly replaced by the fizzing feeling of his blood pouring between Astarion’s lips. He could barely hold back the guttural moan he itched to let out.

“Next time I want you to come to me” Astarion purred against Lynn's skin, as he let his fingers wander lower and lower until his pads grazed Lynn's tight hole, causing a long stutter down Lynn's lips. Damned vampire read him like a book, his every movement caught him off guard and desperate as he cooed dumb praises between sips of his blood.

“So sensitive” He hummed as his palm rested on top of Lynn's fist, joining it in pleasuring the changeling. Astarion could read it in the way Lynn could barely keep his eyes open and his mouth closed; how quickly he twitched, he was close. He let go of his neck gently, kissing the wound.

He grasped at the hand, pulling it away and touching him directly, his warm, pulsing cock slid between his dexterous fingers, uncaring if his precum would hastily stain the fabric of his white shirt.

His strokes were fast, determined, as he focused on Lynn’s reaction, how he melted under his open mouthed kisses. “There’s my good boy.” He cooed as he took a moment to look better at the changeling and at how his lips parted to make space for the soft whimpers Astarion was lowkey fond of.

Lynn was breathless, air missing from his lungs as all he could focus on was the way Astarion praised and stroked him languidly. There it was, he could feel his orgasm on the tip of his tongue, desperate to be reached as unease settled in Lynn’s stomach, the panic quickly making its way through as he was just expecting.

“’Starion..” He moaned as he resisted the involuntary buckle of his hips. “C-close, C-can’t” He panted and whined desperately. Why why why did he have to panic? He admonished himself as he wanted Astarion to keep going, he wanted to push him past his fear, he wanted to make it, and Astarion was there to remind him.

“I know you can do it, my love” He murmured with a familiar yet unknown tenderness trying to hush the voices, as his hand slowed down to give Lynn time to breathe and back out, only to earn a whine Lynn again, begging Astarion to keep going to ignore his plea, to ease the ache as he buckled his hips and twitched. It was so much, almost too much for his touch starved body, his senses on full alert as every inch of his body was taut like a violin string. Astarion. It was Astarion that was stroking him, having him bliss, holding him as he could barely control his fingers from grasping at the fabric he was laying on as he arched his back, thrusting in the palm despite his fear catching up too him. He just had to outrun his nightmares as he tried his best to keep his eyes open, focused on Astarion to ground.

Astarion.

It was Astarion.

“You are doing so good already, my love” He praised and praised as Lynn tried to focus on the sweetness of his words, on the build up in his stomach as he choked a moan and blushed, as he chased the feeling desperately while Astarion’s honeyed words echoed in his head. “I want you to come darling” He invited the changeling. “I want you to come for me” He purred just before the twitches turned in long squirts of his cum, heavily coating his fingers, while the vampire lapped at the blood still flowing from the wounds, letting out lewd moans of his own.

Lynn trembled in Astarion's arms, still being run over the orgasm as he softened in the vampire's grasp, spent like he had never been before, and shocked. “You did so well” Astarion whispered as he fixed a stand of Lynn's hair behind his ear and finally closed the distance between them with a kiss. One unexpected thing after the other. Lynn gasped in surprise as their lips first pressed together, slowly coming to a dance together. The taste of his blood took over his senses as he gently turned to repay the kiss with the same slow burning ardor Astarion was pouring in,

Astarion didn't entirely know why he did it, he could have done anything, yet instead he felt the need to kiss him, to taste his lips, to slowly bite into them. Despite this sudden need- he didn't expect the goosebumps that ran through his skin as the changeling wrapped himself around Astarion protectively, the tumultuous feeling in his stomach slowly swallowed him, just as much as Lynn didn't expect to feel so dizzy and blissed post-orgasm. Lynn had expected to be alone, possibly- most likely- cutting off his jerking session with anxiety, and yet he was breathless for a totally different reason. Slowly the kiss turned in a soft and breathless waltzer of brushing lips, occasionally trying to reach forward to steal one more kiss as they felt insatiable.

“Starion?” Lynn softly breathed out as they laid there, foreheads pressed together as the elf replied only with a hum. Lynn hated to break the moment, but sleep was slowly catching up to him as well as the cum that was going to stick to his skin. “I initially planned to take a bath” he started as he cupped his cheek shortly. “Would you like to join?” He asked as he wished to steal him away for a while longer.

“Are you saying I'm smelling awful?” Astarion gasped playfully while bringing a hand to his chest dramatically.

o-o-o

If Lynn thought Astarion was stunning before, once he was undressed and soaking in the cold water, he was breathtaking. He had to fight the urge to stare at the way the moonlight reflected against his pallid skin or his fair hair, or the way the featherlight touch of the moon reflected against his crimson eyes. He had to resist the urge to speak his mind and let him know how he felt. “I love you” He wanted to scream yet he simply smiled and joined him in the water.

Lynn's mage hand carefully followed him carrying his bath soaps as he leaned against the trunk of a fallen tree.

“Come here and let me help you” The changeling invited him closer as he poured little of the contents of one of the bottles in his palm and gently sudsed his own hair, roughly running his fingers between the strands and the dried blood from the long day of fighting while he waited on Astarion’s answer.

Astarion didn't hesitate to come closer, as he sported his cocky smirk. “Help.. how, darling?” He asked sultry, causing Lynn to blush instantly at the implications as if he didn’t just get caught touching himself.

“With your hair” He smiled with his red cheeks in full display, yet uncaring to hide his softness. “Let me take care of you”

Astarion was confused by his intentions, if he wanted to fuck he just had to say it, he had already made it clear at the tiefling party, and all the times he had explicitly mentioned wanting to have fun, and yet in the words of the changeling there was only tenderness. Astarion didn’t ponder though, accepting any crumb of whatever that was, albeit he kept his guard up.

Lynn poured more of the product and stepped closer to Astarion. He could feel his chest gently brushing with his back as his fingers got lost in the curls.

Astarion had to fight himself to keep that sigh under control as Lynn pressed his pads on his scalp with a tenderness he had never experienced. They massaged deeply as he could feel the warmth of his breath on his neck. Suddenly his cheeks were warm and the peaceful silence between them had to be filled one way or another, he thought.

“You know..” He stopped a moment to make sure he had Lynn's attention as he started rinsing his hair. “At the tiefling party I thought you didn't like me” Astarion giggled, trying his best to hide his weariness. He was curious to find out why he didn't show up, and then caught jerking off moaning his name, it had only been a couple of days at best.

“Me?” Lynn stared at him in disbelief, stopping for a moment on his track while his thoughts sped trying to catch up with him.

“Uh, yeah” He turned, the drops of water falling from his curls to his pearly skin as their eyes met in the middle. “You didn't show up after everyone went to bed” He said as a matter of fact, as if that automatically meant he didn’t like him- far far from the truth.

“No I-” Lynn hesitated, wondering if it was the time to share something so delicate- or maybe it was better to wait, it was hard to think about it twice. “I panicked and ended up taking a walk alone,” He admitted. He couldn’t keep it for himself, despite the wound still hurt, Astarion had opened plenty to him about Cazador and his years as a spawn, it was the least Lynn could do, share about his own haunting past.

“You panicked?” Astarion batted his eyes as Lynn turned the other way, reaching for the soap. Despite the shock Astarion couldn't help but follow the movements of the changeling, the way his hands glided over his skin and the way his nails scraped the blood away before he threw him the soap bar. He almost forgot for a moment what they were doing until his vampire reflexes anticipated what he was too distracted to notice.

“Yup” He replied simply. “But anyways I like you so, rest assured” He said, still avoiding Astarion's eyes as his cheeks abandoned their pallor in favor of the pinkish hue of his blush at his clumsy admission. Astarion couldn't ignore the pang of guilt in his stomach, Lynn liked him, and Astarion had tried to manipulate him- more than once. He had lied, he had tried to kill him, he had tried to drink his blood. He had been several levels of awful to him, and guilt bit him when he least expected.

“I'm relieved, darling” He smiled as he was truly relieved on one side, he couldn't help but find solace in the fact that he didn't lose Lynn's favor, yet maybe there was something more he was not ready to see. He took a few paces closer to Lynn, their chests just inches away as he cupped Lynn's cheek and leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

It was an innocent kiss, Astarion swore to himself as he lingered closer, with his eyes closed as their noses brushed together. Just his act. Just his personal reminder that Lynn was not affecting him as he was being conditioned to think.

There was something about Lynn that Astarion couldn't resist, that made him desire- no, yearn for the closeness that Lynn offered him, as if once he had a taste of it, it became addicting. Why couldn’t he back away? Why did his fingers reach for the back of his head, twisting in the long strands of Lynn’s hair? Why did he lean forward again, letting go of the last fragment of sanity, and clinging to Lynn's lips? And why didn’t Lynn let go of him? Why did he hold him to his chest? Why did he kiss back as if there was something deeper within them?

Astarion sighed as he wrapped his legs around Lynn’s middle and rested his head on his shoulder while the other allowed the water to rock them peacefully, uncaring if the soap would smear all over the place. He was not yet ready to give up the corner of peace that they crawled in.

“Thank you, by the way.” Lynn broke the silence, already regretting doing so even though he knew he had to do it. He had to thank him, cause it had been a miracle of sorts, and despite the embarrassment, he owed him that- cause it would finally explain why he didn’t show up back at the party and his own guilt would finally be eased.

“Uh?” Astarion raised his head to meet the changeling’s eyes, surprised to find his cheeks rosy once more. He assumed it was for the closeness.

“Earlier when you helped me, it was a long time since I was able to finish.” He lowered his head, embarrassed of opening up about the topic just as much as he was afraid and ashamed, although Astarion was truly the only one that could understand. “I don't think I could have done it alone”

Astarion was so close to connecting the dots. “Is that why you didn't show at the party?” He asked with a softer voice and earned a nod. Lynn's usual chattering was replaced by half nodded yeses and half explained sentences, as if he wanted Astarion to figure it out rather than saying it out loud, and he did, cause he could read it in his eyes. He recognized the kind of shame they carried, the meaning of that half explained thank you and his hesitation.

“Did someone hurt you?” Astarion asked as he cupped his cheek, his hand imperceptibly shaking as it traced the other's skin. He hated the question just as much as he hated the nod Lynn couldn't run from, while silence fell between the two. Lynn's eyes dropped to the water, focusing on the swarm of guppies swimming away while Astarion weighed the words he was going to use. How far was too far? He asked himself. “How long?” Astarion managed to ask, carefully. His desire to rip to pieces whoever hurt Lynn gently weighted between the unsaid words.

“For 4 years, I was imprisoned on a ship..” He started with faltering voice, his usual confidence truly lost with the fishes as he tried opening up, yet failed miserably. Words came out half eaten, stammered, hesitant. “They had me in chains, to be used and discarded” He shook his head. He had found out how long it passed only after he was able to be set free, the weight of time finally catching up, it had been merely a year since he had ran away, no more that six months since he regained the strength to speak, and barely an hour since he had let someone else touch him.

“For the whole four years?” Astarion gently tilted up his chin before catching a stray tear that reached his thumb down past the changeling's pale lips. Another silent nod was unavoidable as Astarion's guilt was gnawing deeper and deeper while anger bubbled up. Lynn shuddered, biting down the rest of the tears as they dropped the topic and slowly resumed their bath, in silence. That single tear and those broken words reverberated in the hollow silence as they bathed. It was only then that Astarion noticed the scars on the other’s skin, deep lashes, burn marks, old untreated wounds, the haunting scar that crossed his right eye.

He wanted to vomit, the guilt was far from leaving him, along with a distaste he had never felt before.

Minutes later, the two were close once again, as they shared the towel to dry themselves. Lynn’s eyes focused on the small bag he had carried, avoiding Astarion’s gaze until he couldn’t anymore. He reached down, pulling out his clean white button up and turning towards Astarion. “Your clothes are dirty from today, wear this” He offered the shirt to him. Astarion was amazed by his ability to hide behind words, not recognizing how often he did it as well. When things would get too emotional, he was ready to stir the conversation away, just how Lynn had done with his shirt in hand.

“How about you?” Astarion asked hesitantly, the shirt was still folded in his hands and handed out to him. At the question, Lynn decided to take the matter into his hands, quickly unfolding it and holding it for Astarion to wear.

“Looks better on you.” He mumbled as he motioned Astarion to slip his arms into it, allowing the cloth to drape his shoulders. Lynn was gentle even as he helped Astarion turn and gently buttoned the shirt up.

“Look at you…” Astarion said dramatically, letting go of the thoughts that were still clouding his brain, focusing on the man in front of him. “I didn't know you were good at flirting,” Astarion teased as he placed his hands on Lynn’s bare chest, this time ignoring the feeling in the pit of his stomach and trying to embrace his flirtatious self again. His palm grazed one of the scars, right where his heart was beating, he could feel it against his palm, still thrumming.

“Why? You liked it?” He asked as the faint remark of a smile made its way on the changeling’s lips.

“Perhaps”

“Good”

AN: TLDR: I still dont know what im saying but well, if its poorly written, i havent read it more than twice bc words didnt make so much sense, it was an excercise of brain matter for me to figure out how to write these emotions so i apologize if its messy.

i created Lynn during a breakdown, i was rawdogging my ptsd and when my friends told me "ive got a dnd campaign, wanna join?" i took it upon me to write the most gut wrenching bckstory, not too different from my own. I had spent days putting together what later on would be my most treasured creation, and my own way of dealing with years of repressed emotions and memory fog. It was 2020 when I wrote about him first. He had been the projection of my gender dysphoria, he had been the projection of my trauma on several layers, and he has been my tool for healing. Healing is different for everyone, but he helped me even though he doesn't exists for everyone but me. Why am i sharing this? I dont know, it's almost the anniversary of that breakdown and i just feel like its right to give a bit of the story behind so much sadness. (also because a lot of times in the ask i have had people pointing out how similar their stories are on several layers, babygirls (genderneutral) it's my trauma i wish it wasnt so close /lh)(and because i dont actually talk about my trauma, i have kept it a secret from my parents, friends, family, even my own boyfriends and girlfriends over the years, and only now i feel just a tinsy bit confident to touch topics, i just used to write a lot of DDDNE back then which should have been a red flag for all my irls but thats another topic) It was a coincidence that years later id come to find out Astarion and a joke of faith when the first run i did with an oc, ended up being lynn's. This to say idc how many people will read this, how many will hate it or love it, how many will tell me that maybe this is not the place to deal with it, idc. It's my pity party and i pick the trauma projection /j. now u know why i write a lot of hurt comfort

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joelswritingmistress · 5 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 11

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“You're back.” I pointed out the obvious with a warm smile. I was genuinely ecstatic to see him so soon. I just hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about me being in his billiards room.

“I've got some, uh, good news and some terrible news.” He walked slowly in my direction in dramatic fashion. When he approached where I stood he ran his fingers through the hair that fell near my face and maintained the slightest smirk.

“I guess you're supposed to ask for the bad news first, right.” I was just relieved he hadn't asked what I was doing downstairs.

“The bad news is that school got shut down again on my ride in.” He hesitated, looking down and then back up at me. “Body of a another woman was found not far from the first one on campus.”

“What?” I felt my face grow hot and my stomach sank. I hadn’t realized I placed my hand on my cheek until Dr. Miller put a hand over mine. When our fingers entwined I squeezed his hand.

“Were there any details? Is this a serial killer?” I felt a lump form in my throat.

“Nah. You have to knock off a couple more to get that title.” He grew slightly more serious. “But, honestly, I don't think you should be alone - anywhere right now.”

I nodded in agreement. “ Okay.” I let out a deep breath. “What's the good news?”

He smiled and began stripping the tie from his shirt. “I got to come home.. to you.”

I knew I was glowing. There was no sense in trying to hide it. I wasn't embarrassed or coy.

Dr. Miller's kisses would never get old. When he leaned down to touch his lips to mine, I melted into him with closed eyes and a thirst for his touch.

“Let me make you breakfast,” he whispered against my lips before pulling back a few inches.

“I should be making you breakfast.”

He tapped under my chin with his first two fingers. “What kind of host would I be if I allowed that.” Our lips met another time and he wandered around the island while offering me a seat facing a flat top stove.

Dr. Miller removed a pan from a lower cabinet and set it on the island. “After breakfast I'll take you down to check out another floor of the house.”

I swallowed hard and felt my body tense. The blueprint in the H.H. Holmes book immediately came to mind. I got a chill wondering what the maze portion of the house plans were. Without allowing my active imagination to run amuck, I simply nodded in agreement and smiled.

“Okay.”

Did he see me checking out his bookshelf? He has cameras doesn't he? He must have seen me with the blueprint.

Dr. Miller leaned across the way as far as he could. I met him halfway and pecked his lips before he whispered again. “I think you're going to like it.”

…

“Is there anything you can't do?” I asked, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “This might be the best French toast I've ever had.”

Dr. Miller sat beside me at the oversized kitchen island, smirking as he sipped on his coffee. He turned his body, slightly to face mine.. “My mother has all the best cooking secrets. I thankfully inherited them.”

Despite feeling full, I swirled the last bite around a pool of syrup on the plate and forked the final piece into my mouth.

“You should stay here,” Dr. Miller said, taking the conversation to a one-eighty, drawing my gaze back to his eyes. “Until all this blows over.”

“All what?”

“The murders.”

I felt guilty for letting that colossal event all but slip from my mind. “Oh, yeah.” I shook my head.

“You don't have to, but I would feel better knowing you're here than in a house with no alarm system that anyone could get into if they wanted to.” His eyes could have turned me to stone. They appeared as if they could quite literally pierce my mind and see what was going on inside of my head.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” I wanted to stay. “I’d love to stay.” I smiled, “I feel safe when I'm with you.”

Dr. Miller gave a nod and eyed the floor for a second or two before staring back up. “If this is all too much, let me know. I'm working on not being so demanding.”

“I don't mind that.” I shook my head and continued to look him directly in the eye and rested a hand on his knee. “And it's not too much.”

Dr. Miller looked down and back up. He lifted my hand, squeezing my fingers before placing a single kiss across my knuckles. “Let me show you the lower level.”

“Okay.” I pulled him in for a kiss. I simply couldn't help it. “Mmm.. you taste like syrup.”

Dr. Miller chuckled, sending vibrations across my lips. He stepped down off the high chair and held a hand out to help me down.

“So, you’ll stay?” he asked.

I nodded, “I’d love to.”

“Do you want to take the stairs or the old elevator?” He turned with a smirk, knowing how impressive that must have sounded - not that he needed to do anything else to impress me. That ship had sailed.

“I'll have to go with the old elevator.”

“Come on.” The warmth from his palm as towed me by the hand made me sigh. It was all so new to feel like this and every little touch felt like fireworks, even the innocent ones.

We wandered down a short hallway past another closed door, and hidden in a little nook was the elevator. I would have never guessed that was what it was until Dr. Miller gave a tug on a lever on the wall.

There was some clunking around from behind the wall and then suddenly the noise stopped and he reached for a worn, silver handle by the floor, yanking a rectangular door upward like a garage bay.

I glanced inside the small dark space. In the center of it was a rope that I could tell acted like a pulley system. When I glanced back at Dr. Miller, he nodded toward the opening.

“Get in.”

“In there?” My eyebrows must have raised as high as my hairline.

“We can both fit.”

When I hesitated he winked at me and crouched down to make his way inside. I took a deep breath and followed him. We were only an inch apart; face-to-face. There wasn't much room to move.

“You okay?” Dr. Miller asked.

I nodded, looking down as the floor creaked beneath us. “Is this going to hold our weight?”

“We’ll find out.” He closed the door and pressed a red button on the wall, leaving us with a fiery red glow inside.

The old elevator thrusted me forward, making my body collide with his. He caught me and I looked up at him, partially anxious, partially content. I felt like my emotions were constantly tugging me in different directions.

“Relax.” Dr. Miller held me against him and I felt his chest heave in a deep breath. “We can take the stairs back up later if this bothers you.”

I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent in the darkness as the side of my face pressed against his chest. My anxiety dropped with the gentle stroking of his fingertips down the center of my back.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

We descended to what felt like the center of the earth before the elevator came to a halt. I only separated myself from Dr. Miller in order to let him yank the door upward again. He then motioned with his arm toward the exit.

“After you.”

I let out a deep sigh and stepped out onto white, tiled floors. And then my eyes extended beyond the tiles onto the teal, blue water that sat still in an oversized swimming pool.

Well, this is not what I expected, I thought.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. This wasn't the maze from the blueprint, or some secret room. It was a lavish, indoor swimming pool.

My eyes traveled to a jacuzzi at the far end of the pool as well as a sauna and a clear, see-through shower side-by-side.

When Dr. Miller’s hand touched my shoulder I jumped, making him pull back almost immediately.

I huffed a laugh and put a hand over my chest. “I'm sorry,” I said to him. “The ride down got my heart rate up.”

“I know this is probably a lot.” He nodded. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?” I shook my head and looked around. “You've been so generous. My brain just hasn't caught up yet to all of this.” I motioned with my hand around the room and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being.. such a good host.” I smiled. “For making me breakfast.. and taking care of me.”

“You can make it up to me by staying awhile.” He looked down and reached for my hand again.

“I can do that,” I said with a nod, adding, “No work until Monday.”

“And what are we going to do until then?” Dr. Miller's eyes squinted and he smirked when I giggled.

“This really is amazing,” I gushed as we walked beside the pool. “I feel stupid saying this but I feel like I'm in a movie.”

“I know you probably have questions,” he acknowledged, “Like how can I afford all of this.” Dr. Miller's eyes found mine.

“It’s none of my business.” I shook my head.

“I’ll explain,” Dr. Miller assured me, and then added, “One day.”

“Okay.” I nodded and managed a little smile, seeming to ease some of the tension that harbored in the muscles of his neck. It was enough for now. He unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt and his smile grew wider.

“Care for a swim?”

I wanted to, especially with Dr. Miller; but I had an embarrassing confession.

“Yes,” I told him and then eyed the body of water beside where we stood, “But I might have to stay in the low end.”

He chuckled and placed his hands on his hips, “Why’s that?”

“Because I.. I can’t really.. swim.”

Dr. Miller’s eyebrows raised, “You can’t swim?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I always used to just.. doggy paddle.. and then I’d kind of sink.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at my childish revelation, and I giggled right along side him. I gave a shrug and he looked me up and down. Dr. Miller began to undo the rest of his shirt until the center gave a view of his chest. Without warning he reached for the zipper on the gray hoodie he’d given me to wear and slowly let it run down past my breasts toward my belly button before it finally separated down at my hips.

I chewed my bottom lip and swallowed hard as tingles ignited through mg body. I hadn’t put on a bra and he gave an appreciative sigh as he drank in my figure, clearly at least a little surprised that I hadn’t put the undergarment back on. “I can show you how.”

“How to what?”

Dr. Miller pushed a laugh out of his nose and a smile crept on his face. “Swim.” He continued to undress.

“Do you have a bathing suit?” I immediately felt like it was such a stupid question, and my face reddened. He was undressing. Why the hell would I ever want him to put clothes on.

He laughed again, heartier this time as he purposely began to undo the belt on his work pants. “In about thirty seconds I intend for the two of us to take our clothes off, and then not put them back on until Monday morning.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then glanced down as he unzipped the fly of his pants. Coming from anyone else, the line wouldn’t have worked. I probably would have laughed, or thought it was funny to some degree. But, shit, I was way too enticed and attracted to Dr. Miller to even crack a smile - because I knew he was serious. And him being serious would continue to fulfill my ever growing fantasy.

I don’t know why I was suddenly shy. He wasn’t. An aching pulse began to thump between my legs when he freed his heavy, semi-erect cock from his pants. I couldn't look away. A second later Dr. Miller was stepping out of his shoes as his pants fell down to his ankles. He then peeled off his socks and slunk into the pool before resting his arms on the side, staring up at me.

“I promise I’ll go slow,” he teased, looking me in the eye, “We’ll start in the shallow end.”

My heart was racing and I took a deep breath before separating the zip up sweatshirt with my fingertips and letting it fall onto the tile floor beside Dr. Miller’s clothes.

“That’s my girl.”

His girl. I loved that already. I shoved my pants down and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting as I attempted to confidently pace the length of the pool like a runway until I reached the little staircase that descended beneath the water. My heart was racing, moreso with each step. I wasn't at all confident enough to freely walk in my bare skin, especially in front of someone else.

When I reached the far edge of the pool, relief filtered over me. It was like a giant, soothing bath; perfect temperature without a hint of a chill. I let out a sigh as Dr. Miller made his way to me, pulling me into his arms. All anxiety drifted away. All I could focus on was his touch.

I linked my arms around the back of his neck and we kissed a long, deprived-of-each-other kiss as if we hadn’t been in each other’s company for months. He was addicting.

“My life is in your hands,” I whispered, smiling as I did.

“I won’t let you go,” he said quietly back.

Dr. Miller opened up his eyes and kept them open as he pecked my lips once more, before taking my hands and repositioning them so they were on his broad shoulders. I then felt his hands pushing up at my torso just below my breasts so my body was horizontal. He held me firmly in place and began to tread water, edging backwards deeper into the pool.

“Kick your feet,” he encouraged amidst a series of short, choppy breaths, still holding my body for support.

I did as he suggested and fully recognized when we had left the area where I could stand. I huffed a breath, feeling my anxiety climb again and he tried to put the fire out with more encouragement.

“I got you,” Dr. Miller promised again. “Just focus on me and keep kicking.”

“Don’t let me go,” I said, managing a nervous laugh.

“I won’t.” He breathed heavier, the deeper we went but never faltered. I never felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep me afloat.

“Let me know if you’re tired.”

“I’m okay.” Dr. Miller continued to tread backward and I was tempted to look over my shoulder to see how far we’d gotten, but I didn’t. From what I could see of the other side, we were getting close to halfway across the pool.

I breathed in and out, allowing him to lead me safely across. When the other end finally came within an arm’s reach, Dr. Miller planted his back against it and pulled me the rest of the way to him.

My body floated back down so we were both vertical and he placed a hand on my lower back so I pinned him against the side.

“That was a little bit of a rush,” I admitted with a deep breath and a chuckle.

Dr. Miller smiled back. “I’d rather be here teaching you how to swim than teaching the classes down at Woodbridge.” He let out a deep exhale and we kissed again. When he flipped us so my back rested against the side of the pool I giggled a little more freely.

“Well, you got your wish,” I told him, finding his lips again a second later. I felt his intensity heighten as he aggressively penetrated my lips with his tongue as his hand cupped the left side of my buttocks.

“Mmm..” he huffed a breath into my mouth and his eyes were still closed as he spoke, “You have no idea.”

I rested a hand on the side of his face. “Yes, I do.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @amyispxnk @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @readingiskeepingmegoing

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liplinerloser · 4 months

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Hello!

Увидела, что ваши запросы открыты и я решила оставить свой!

Можно мне Мейсона, Дерека с f!reader, которая оказалась хитрее них?

Она одерживает над ними победу, но не решает их убить, потому что "просто быстро убить вас было бы слишком гуманно"

Hey pookies, no I’m not dead, I’m making my annual come back

I liked how these sort of came out so I might write them as little fics, or the after maths of them since part of the request is you don’t actually kill them

Started this a year ago 💀💀💀 hope I didn’t butcher the translation!

Minors dni!

Mason + Derek with an F!reader, who out smarts them

Derek

It’s not difficult to imagine someone being able to outsmart him, he’s so full of himself he doesn’t even think of it as a possibility. With his inflated ego all it took was some fake submission and a few fulfilled requests until he was lulled into a false sense of security. He would believe you were primal, like a scared animal, what he expected with the other captives. But you had a plan.

From your few rough encounters with Derek you knew he wouldn’t ever let you off lightly if he caught you lacking, the sore sting of your tongue against the roof of your mouth reminded you of that.

You were practically defenceless, and to make matters worse you were sure the water supply was tainted, meaning you were thirsty, hungry and afraid.

You clocked Komodo and Dragon performing some weird ritual, but after gauging the level of threat you ruled them out. Unless you stepped into their territory it’s likely they wouldn’t be an issue; you were tempted to attack them when you noticed the knife they used on their victims, just big enough to do some damage but small enough to hide on your person. You stashed the idea and moved on.

If you had survived long enough to withstand the heat of the desert and the pangs of grinding hunger you had definitely encountered jack. Despite him being the most threatening he was ironically one of the most benevolent of the group. You’d remembered how he’d caught you and forced you into certain activities, and rewarded you as such. This was a possible opening

carefully, you stalked the desert, being sure to duck in the cover of the sand if you heard the familiar rumble of the quad. You reached the place where you had initially encountered jack, ducked your head, and silently peered out over the Sandy terrain. It was only a matter of time before he made his rounds.

And so he did, you caught him with his captive, mid fight no doubt. She thrashed wildly in his grasp, landing a few hits from the steady stream of blood under the mask.

You respected her courage in the situation, especially when you saw her knock jack to the ground and lunge for his weapon. You saw your opening.

Practically diving before she could grip the knuckle duster hilt of the knife, you tackled her, in her state of shock she thrashed rather than attacking you. It was clear she recognised you.

Before you could register the betrayal in her eyes you pushed the knife into the soft flesh beneath her jaw. She writhed, warm blood pulsing out in a clean stream. Your eyes were wide, jaw ajar, completely forgetting about him.

You were pulled out of your trance by a rumbling laughter. He had pulled himself off the floor and loomed over you.

“You batting for the other team now? Don’t think the others would be best pleased hm”, he had a shit eating grin plastered over his now unmasked face. You braced for impact, nothing came.

You were the one who held the knife, the power dynamic had shifted and he knew it too. Even if he managed to pry the knife out of your hands and beat you limp, you wouldn’t die without a fight. He’d seen first hand how you were willing to fuck someone up just to survive. His arrogance and pride wouldn’t allow him to be seen at the camp bruised and battered at the hands of a captive.

Jack let out a grunt, holding his hands up defeatedly. Everyone had a price, and he was willing to pay yours to live, or At least until he could kill you when you weren’t looking. You took advantage of this, pointing the knife at his throat as you explained your situation with Derek.

You could’ve swore you saw his head nodding almost with understanding? Maybe Derek was just an asshole to everyone. You told him you wanted him dead, at that his eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t quite pick out.

you heard him sigh with frustration, he promised to help you, he clarified just one thing.

“You can do what you want to the little shit, cut him into little cubes, wear him like a jacket for all I care. But you can’t kill him. Fuck him up real good, then meet me at camp. I’ll get you out of here”

It’s not unbelievable to assume you didn’t trust him at all, you had a feeling this choice would come back to you later

He offered you the knife you’d killed the other captive with, you grimaced as you took it, but understood it was the only way out.

You waited until it was darker, the desert had cooled. Taking the knife and reaching behind you, you made a jagged slash along your shoulders and back. As you did, deliberately screaming, listening to the hollow echoes of your voice around the desert.

The other 3 captors were nowhere to be seen, same with the other captives. Apart from 1, that familiar grinding noise of the quad approaching you. Your stomach churned as you quickly hid the knife in the waist band of your shorts.

Lying on the floor, seething with pain, he approached you curiously. Upon seeing the wound he bared his teeth like a dog.

“Who the fuck did this to you. I paid good money for you. and you let someone else touch you, dirty bitch.”, his nose scrunched in disgust.

There was no concern or empathy, as you had to remind yourself he was barely human, barely feeling in terms of emotion. You were not a conscious being to him, instead a mere chew toy to satisfy his urges. The piñata he got all his frustration out on before he had to wear the mask of a functional person back home, and for his father

“Might as well make good use one last time. And I’m a nice guy, so I’ll let you pick which hole.”, blinking away tears, you pitifully pointed to your mouth, Playing off the sad character you had created for yourself

Positioning yourself on your knees, looking through your lashes with teary eyes, you found yourself smiling, before reaching for his belt and getting to work. You had to make sure you were good for him, just this once.

Using both your hands and tongue, you pawed and kneaded at him needily, drinking him, much to his pleasure. The original grip he had on your hair had loosened as he leaned into your touch desperately. Derek felt so secure in his position of power, felt he had broke you, but you waited for this.

He twitched, gritting his teeth. He was almost there, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of finishing. With his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, you stretched a free hand behind you, gripping the knife that you’d hidden.

Quicker than he could process, you pushed the knife so deep into the flesh of his thigh that you were sure you hit bone. Before he could grab you as a reflex, you lay on your back, using one leg to kick at the fresh wound, and the other to stop him from hobbling towards you

“You fucking bitch. You fucking stupid cunt, you’re nothing, if you kill me you still can’t leave here, don’t you fucking get that?!”, you cringed at his temper tantrum.

The pain was too much for him, he fell to the floor, gritting his teeth and writhing in agony. You knew in this state he wouldn’t get far, and eventually he would pass out from blood loss, so you decided against stabbing him again (as much as you wanted the satisfaction)

“You need me. You can’t leave me here, do you even know who I am?!”

After all the pain he had caused you, to see him so vulnerable, crying like a spoiled child, it gave you back a little bit of dignity that he had stripped you of.

“Please. Please, fuck, please. You don’t have to do this, I can get you anything you want, literally anything. Don’t leave me here.” , all you could think was how pathetic he was to resort to begging.

There was more Babbling, in between the tears and choked sobs. Something about his urges, how it wasn’t personally against you and he just wanted to feel normal. You couldn’t help but audibly scoff, after everything he had put you through, he’s sorry cause it “wasn’t personal”, or he “wanted normalcy”. You were shaking from anger.

You decided against killing him, not only because of the offer with jack, but because any death you could afford him would be too generous and humane.

God knows he doesn’t deserve that. He wasn’t worth your effort, you just wanted to go home.

You thought you saw a white mask stalking in the Distance. Fearing one of the others, gripping your knife you moved quickly in the direction of the camp.

As expected jack was waiting for you, cigarette lit between his calloused fingers.

He blinked almost in surprise that you'd survived, but Moreso acknowledgment for your existence. Holding out a cup of ambiguous liquid, you assumed out of good will, you silently drank together.

that was the last thing you remembered before knocking out.

in homeless fashion, you'd woke up on a random park bench in a familiar town that once your eyes adjusted you presumed to be your own.

you finally let out a sigh of relief as you let your feet drag across the pavement in the direction of your home. Your reality had shifted, becoming more aware of peoples lingering glances, their facial reaction towards you. You couldn’t help but feel ruined.

A fresh shower eased your tense muscles, washing away your guilt (temporarily), you let your fingers trace over the scars and bruises that littered your skin. they would fade. it was over. you finally let yourself feel vulnerable

But you should never be vulnerable, especially since you fucked with a Goffard.

Mason

To survive Mason you had to be much more calculated than you did with Derek. Mason didn’t need to be cocky, he knew his way around that Forest more than you ever would, he was quick and quiet.

You had learned a few things just from your first day. Mason made rounds, he didn’t stick to one place, which meant that you couldn’t stick to one place either. Due to the Forrest shape and the pattern of his movements it was more difficult for him to corner you, which was in your favour.

Another thing was the Forrest was cold as a motherfucker, and sleeping was near impossible without the comfort of a fire to warm you. At first you thought the supplies to light the fire were a trick, trying to weed you out, surely he would be able to see the smoke rising from the tree tops and catch you?

But nights were also safe, gave you enough time to patch yourself up, rest, or set up for the next day. You’d figured out on the night he rested in a log cabin, which gave you some peace of mind knowing he wouldn’t be prowling

Mason was a man of his word, if you survived him he would let you go of no consequence, which could not apply to others. The issue was finding a way around a man that was so obviously a skilled hunter

First you thought about the Snares, having nearly been caught in one, you thought you could possibly use one to your advantage. That was ruled out when animals kept getting stuck in them, your guilty conscience forced you to leap to save them

You had seen a bear trap before, cunningly hidden under dry foliage, you’d spotted it and avoided it, maybe you could move it into his pathway? By this point you had his moves tracked to a T, so you could predict where he would be moving next.

Your chest swelled with pride, and a mixture of anxiety, as you tried to replicate the deceptive placement of the trap he had originally set, covered in leaves, twigs and shrubbery.

To seal the deal and ensure he actually came you let a raw scream rip through your throat, you knew it wasn’t an issue for him to find where the scream could come from, the man could practically echolocate.

Your eyes darted around the open Forrest, realising you had nowhere to hide and had given up your location. Staring up a tree near the bear trap, you sighed.

Making sure to climb promptly up the tree while leaving no trace proved a challenge, the longer you waited the more you hallucinated the sounds of twigs snapping beneath thick leather boots. Once you were up, securely hidden by the dense leaves, you dared to peer down

It had taken him a matter of 15 minutes to find you, just from a scream. Either he sprinted or he was in an area nearby, both options scared you. The familiar green of his tartan print shirt made you lurch with fear

Biting your lip, you watching him along the pathway edge closer and closer to the trap, you had granted yourself the feeling of freedom prematurely, assuming it would work.

Furrowing your brows, you were confused when he stopped a pace away from the trap. You felt your skin crawl hearing a deep resonating laughter erupt from him, a laughter that felt patronising

He had seen it. And he was amused? Instead of stepping onto it or around it, he instead picked up a large stick, and used it to trigger the trap with a gut wrenching snap. That could’ve been you, ideally it should’ve been him.

It was a premature plan, not very well thought out, it would take more to take him out, especially considering his size, he was easily twice yours, if not in height but the sheer weight and strength of him. You did have a lingering feeling that you should keep an eye out for the repurposed bear trap, that could come in handy.

The next step on the failing agenda was to explore the one place you really really didn’t want to. His Cabin. By default you assumed it was locked so before you even considered actually going you thought about methods to get in, he hadn’t seen you by that area, so maybe he would accidentally leave the door unlocked??

Yeah fat chance. Surely you had to take advantage of how quick he seemed to be when he heard you in the area with the bear trap, it’s almost as if he dropped everything to find you, you wanted to test this theory.

You knew there was a lake nearby, and decided to try your chances at fishing, not really for the whole nutritional value of the fish but another idea. It was a forest right? A densely packed, environmentally diverse forest, you had seen foxes, rabbits, deer, so it was only right to assume there must be bears, especially with a stream so close by.

Waiting until night fall again, you wondered how long it would take before he grew tired of exclusively searching for you during the day. You made your way over to the stream, you’d seen something about catching fish with your hands on some tv show and didn’t really think much of it when you saw it. Maybe you should’ve paid attention.

After a few tries of Emulating a really terrible Bear Grylls technique you resorted to a stick, rolling up your trousers and standing in the freezing water very still, seeing an unfortunate victim swim towards you, you plunged your stick into it.

You could worry about feeling guilty later, when you were safe. Making your way over to a snare you knew he set up before, one that you’d narrowly avoided, you placed the fish very close to it. Making sure to remove the head so it’s stench was stronger.

Practically sprinting, you made your way back to the hiding place near his cabin. It would take a while for a Bear to go near the snare, and it was almost morning, so he’d surely he would be up and out. You hoped he would confuse the bear for you just long enough.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, you were practically becoming delirious from hunger, and the cold had finally started nipping away at your fingers and nose. Alongside that you were drained, forcing yourself to stay awake, you didn’t want to be caught at the last lap.

He finally came. Striding out with an air of confidence, gruff harsh footsteps crunching against the earth. Further into the distance, the familiar sound of the snare, and the shake of the trees. The deer weren’t heavy enough to do that, he thought he had finally won.

Overcome with hubris, he slammed the door of the cabin shut, gripping his knife. You noted he didn’t lock it. Even mass murderers make mistakes.

There was your chance, quietly crawling up the steps, you made your way in. Anxiety ripped at your insides as you searched, conveniently you had found that handy bear trap, and a few other interesting bits too. You didn’t like the guy but you were always curious to learn about someone.

No technology, but a map? Upon studying it a little closer you noticed the area with a pin in it was where you were, seeing the familiar curves of the stream on its hand drawn surface. Another place fairly close by was circled, you wondered if that would be useful later.

Placing the bear trap in front of the door was the first thought, but that was too easy, he would surely notice it, and even if it caught just a leg he seemed rough enough to pull it off and lunge for you. That wouldn’t work out for you.

You noticed a stool, dragged it to the gap behind the door for when it would swing open upon his entry, then stood on it with the bear trap positioned away from your body.

Mason was pissed to say the least. Not only was it not you in the snare, but a large angry fucking bear. it took a few hacks at it to get it to die, it almost got a few hits on him too, but Sandy never let him down.

His heavy footsteps left imprints in the soft dirt as he made his way back to the cabin, realising his previous mistake. You were a frightened animal, he doubted you’d be brave enough to go to the one enclosed space he stayed in the most.

Nothing seemed off when he came back, everything as it was. But he wasn’t just going to lock the door, being paranoid kept him alive, so he would quickly check and be on his way.

With his same air of confidence, Mason strides into the cramped cabin, upon first glance it seemed nothing had moved, he did note his stool was gone.

Furrowing his brows he turned to look for it, only noticing then the seething captive that had been waiting for him.

The stool gave you enough height to jump at him, wrapping your legs around his torso, in one fell swoop, you locked the jaws of the bear trap around his head. It didn’t fit so snugly due to his struggling, so with as much force as you could muster, you slammed it so hard you felt the spring locks recoil against you.

There was silence for a moment, you had unwound your legs from him, falling to the floor and crawling towards the door. His towering figure stood still, eyes open with shock, the grip on his knife had diminished as it hit the floor with a gentle thud.

Then you were met with screams, piercing screams, and you genuinely wondered when you stared at him, how was this fucker not dead? People lose their legs from bear traps, and he still somehow was conscious enough to yell, even trying to undo the spring lock to free himself.

While he was distracted trying to free his twisted flesh from within the teeth of the trap, you took your opportunity to grab his knife and scramble frantically away from the lumbering man.

Just as you were out the door you remembered the map, but Mason was too busy trying to salvage his face to care what you were doing, making eye contact with him as you sprinted in the direction of the map you noted he looked at you differently. There was no anger, or victimising glare, it felt more equal, like he finally respected you as a person and not prey

His face disgusted you, the trap still actively disfiguring him the more he struggled. Killing him would be too humane, you hoped he would survive this, and that his scars and deformity would be a reminder. The hunter had finally been hunted.

Knowing he wouldn’t be following you, with the map and knife in hand, and your back pack of supplies you had stashed in your hiding place, you made your way to the circled area on the map. You hoped there would be something like a phone, a way to contact anyone. Worst case scenario you could survive a little longer, trek out the forest and find your way back.

After dealing with him you didn’t feel so vulnerable, the only threat left in the vicinity was you; a dangerous wave of euphoria ran over you.

You hoped he had learnt his lesson, if he came looking for you, you wouldn’t be so nice. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken Sandy though-

#requests open #im back #boyfriend to death #derek goffard #derek goffard x reader #the price of flesh #mason heiral #mason heiral x reader #tpof derek #tpof #tpof mason #tpof machete #btd #minors dni #not safe for minors #tpof jack #tpof komodo #tpof dragon

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little-worm-grant · 4 months

Text

Steven's pov: Happy Simple Normal Life

1,153 words / Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Some lighthearted scatterbrained memories from the mind of Steven Grant and his formative years. Previously: Marc's pov: Behind Closed Doors (18+ hurt/not a necessary read)

Continued: Steven's pov: Oh Sausages (more comfort)

Tags: Childhood Memories, Comfort, Fluff, Developing Friendship

Corridors were quiet. Everyone else had gone outside for recess. Steven had spent all his free time hiding out in a classroom to read. He was a good boy, and knew how to fly under the radar. Teachers felt they could count on him to be left in a classroom unsupervised. They didn’t know what he was really up to.

Steven had only one other love besides books. The moment he knew the coast was clear, he’d take the teacher’s chair out from behind the desk and push it out the classroom. He'd use it to race down the hall as fast as he could. Hopping on at the very last second to try and see how far he could roll. Might've seemed silly to some, but Steven got the biggest thrill out of it.

Sometimes the chair would collide with the wall. Other times he’d not make it onto the seat and looked like a pretty sad sap on the floor with the chair wheeling away from him. He kept trying. Just a couple of tries each time before retreating back to class. He never wanted to push his luck and get caught.

First attempt was crap. Caught on a classroom door frame and bounced to the other wall rather than down the bleeding hall. Okay, Steven. Get it together. He returned back down one end. The wheels of the heavy chair crackled along the dirty floors. Determination in his eyes.

Catching his breath back he looked over the seat to plan his trajectory. The hallway seemed to close in on him. Long and narrow. His breathing came back to him in long steady breaths. One last try. Now or never Grant.

Kicking off with one push against the wall. Shoving the chair forward. Steven broke into a sprint. His hands gripped the arms tightly. Cheering himself on. Losing his breath he made the final move to jump up onto the seat.

One knee up. Using the other leg to push off the ground. Steering the speeding chair down the hallway. Passing doors and lockers faster than he thought was possible. Smooth sailing. Second knee up. He clung to the backrest of the seat and beamed.

For a single moment, Steven Grant was on top of the world. Fearless. He could do anything he set his mind to and-

“MISTER SPECTOR!”

The screech of a woman's voice startled him. Swiveling his head around to see who his teacher was yelling at. Only finding her horrified eyes dead set on him. Oh crud. Too caught up on being caught, he’d not been looking where he was going. The chair bounced off a wall causing the whole thing to go barreling out of control. The last thing little Steven remembered was his face about to kiss the floor.

"OH SHI-"

Nice one, plonker.

School trip to the aquarium. He’d remembered being so excited to go to this. Couldn't believe he was actually here, that'd come round fast. The place was pretty busy. Lot of people around in and between his peers while the teacher tried keeping them all wrangled together. Fat chance of that. Steven might have gotten a tad distracted watching one of those informational videos. Not hearing or noticing anything else around him while his eyes were zoned in on the screen. Deeply entrenched with a slew of facts about mantis shrimps. Those buggars could really pack a punch. He couldn't even imagine seeing more colors. Hadn’t noticed the group had left him behind until they were already gone.

That was one of the few times Steven had ever truly felt lost in childhood. Alone in a new location without any way to find or get in touch with his group. Maybe he should wait there until he got back. Going off wandering would only make it worse, he wasn't daft. Once they noticed surely they’d come back.

He paced, avoiding stepping into people’s ways, trying to go back to information screens to settle himself but it wasn’t the same blissful unawareness he’d had before. The pit in his stomach worsened with every minute that passed. He started to need the bathroom but worried he might get lost trying to find one or while getting back. Panic built up in his throat and made his eyes all glassy. Blinking back the tears the back of his hand came up to wipe.

That's when he caught his own reflection in the glass of one of the darker aquariums. Murky waters showed the reflection of another boy who looked far calmer than he felt. Arms down by his sides. Didn’t constantly have his hands up in front of him fiddling or flailing them around like Steven did.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi.” The voice responded.

Steven imagined he heard him say it back, like he was right there. But he couldn’t have. That would’ve been daft. Imaginary friends his dad would have reminded him. That's what he told himself too. He could have conversations with himself for hours sometimes.

“I’m scared.” Steven admitted out loud to himself. To the fishes. To his friend.

“I know.” The reflection moved when he did. Another short pace to get closer to the glass. The facial expressions were all wrong. Maybe not wrong was the right word, but different. Steven could swear he didn’t frown like that. The voice spoke again. “It’s going to be okay though. You know that. Take a deep breath. They're gonna come back.”

Steven did take that breath. Sharply in and slower out. Letting go of that pent-up feeling building in his chest. Felt less alone, even if it was his own reflection that eased him.

“Yeah… I hope so. Would be a bit of a bummer if I had to live here with the fishes.”

"Nahh- that wouldn't be so bad. That's right up your alley."

"It'd be bosting honestly. I'd be dead happy. I'd name every single one of 'em Gus. We'd have a right good time."

The voice chuckled and the reassurances worked. If only to settle Steven down enough to subdue the growing panic.

"You think they'll be back soon?"

"Course. I'll wait with you until they do. Tell me about what you've seen so far. Is it fun?" "Oh man you wouldn't believe it. So there's this shrimp, yeah?"

He talked and talked and talked. The reflection listened. Even Steven was smiling in the end. Someone eventually did come back for him. Found him in the same place they’d left him, chatting away with the fishes. Telling them all about his day. The teacher was firm but nice. One last glance to the glass. He caught only his own reflection looking back at him this time.

“Bye mate.” He waved to the fishes as he was guided back to the group.

Kept telling himself everything was going to be okay; because in the end, it always was.

#steven grant #moon knight #oscar isaac #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #jake lockley #stevens pov #open starter #open rp

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rodolfoparras · 6 months

Note

Prepare for my goofy little essay about Soap

I definitely believe Soap likes to be treated like a dog and acts like one. Not like puppy play, but affectionately. He’s laying his head in your lap? He’s has your hand in his as he gnaws on your fingers. You’re having a drink with the rest of the 141? He bites your shoulder when he’s bored of the conversation. It gets to the point where some of the guys start to call Soap, your “puppy”, even though you two aren’t together, but both of you grow into it cause, are they really wrong? You’ve definitely walked in on Soap and Gaz looking over some plans for another prank on Ghost and had to ask Soap, “What do you have?” as he tries to hide it behind his back. I can also absolutely imagine Soap, completely silent, walking into the common area where you and the others are hanging out and just sitting on the floor either between your legs or next to them to rest his head, and you just instinctively put your hand in his hair and pet him.

This all cumulates when after Soap gets into a fight with another member, maybe they were bad talking about you. These two are throwing blows when you walk in and you finally break it up by basically scruffing Soap. You tell off the other guy and are dragging Soap back to your room to clean him up. You aren’t really watching him since you’re trying to get him to a safer place, but Soap’s face is as red as the blood dripping from his nose. Once you get to your room, you sit him on the toilet and start to clean his wounds for him. He’s all nervous and hardly speaking despite you asking him all these questions about why he did this. He says they were running their mouth, so he shut it for them. You chuckle at his need to protect you and your honor and jokingly call him your “guard dog”, but this man flushes to red again. You take a little further and call him your “good boy” while lightly scratching his head. This man absolutely melts at your words and his pants probably grow a little tighter.

All of this probably leads to you and Soap becoming each other’s comforter after missions. Sometimes he needs to grounded, so he just sits near you as you absentmindedly pet his hair until he feels good enough to shower. Usually you feel good enough to clean yourself up after missions but shut down after, so Soap will just lay on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

Sorry about the word vomit of homosexuality. The Soap brainrot is real as of recent. I showed my friend a picture of Neil Ellice and he said, “he looks like a sad dog” and my immediate thought was, “he’s a sad wet dog, and I have soft dry towel”

-🤠

LISTEN I LOVED THIS bc I talked about this with someone how soap is basically a puppy and hear me out you the new sergeant joining the squad and taking a liking to soap but it’s clear he’s got the hots for the lieutenant and really it’s more out of pettiness than anything else that you whisper good boy under your breath when he follows ghosts order without question, saying he’s loyal like a dog when soap is just standing there even barking in his face when you get into a fight

It all ends up with you pushed against the wall, with him fisting your shirt and holding a hand against your throat and maybe it had been one too many drinks post mission adrenaline or sexual frustration that has him smashing his lips onto yours

And before you know of it you’re stumbling into your room clothes are scattered to the floor and he’s riding you while you’re saying the words “come on show me how much of a good boy you can be” and although he almost spit in your face the words “go fuck yourself” being said through gritted teeth he begins to ride you more vigorously

#alec answers #🤠 anon

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petersbaby · 2 years

Text

My little girl

Based loosely on the lyrics:

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

Part one ♡

(Part two)

Warnings: blood/blood kink, mentions of violence, quick smut (oral m receiving), slight ddlg themes, female reader

“Just do it, please get it over with”

He was bracing himself for the pain he was about to feel, biting down on his hand in anticipation. You didn’t wanna hurt him but it’s the only way you can ever both be free.

All your energy, strength, and focus goes into this. It takes a minute to work, as the chip was implanted much deeper than you or him for that matter thought it was, but it rips out of his skin as he lets out a muffled groan and it lands on the floor next to him, covered in blood.

Your knees go weak and you have to sit down for a second to recover, wiping your nose. Now, the plan was in motion and there was no turning back. By doing this, you committed to run away with him, to stay by his side no matter what.

It was a strange feeling, knowing you just granted him a lifetime of freedom by removing the device from his neck. He called it a soteria.

You were close, but he couldn’t ever go into much detail, but he had told you that he had killed before and has special powers to do so.

Since he did that, he had the device experimentally implanted by the doctor here to keep him docile, under control. It was hard to imagine that, the sweet man in all white with a friendly smile and kind words being a killer.

He treated you with so much love, or more so his idea of love. He’s never mentioned if he can love or not, but if he can, you’re sure he loves you.

But, if there’s anything you’d learned, it’s that anything is possible and things are not always what they seem to be.

Next to him on the floor, you get a good look at the damage done by your forced implant removal. It’s surprisingly not that bad at all, with only a little bit of blood inching down his neck.

Before it can reach down to pool in his collarbone, you lean over and lick the blood clean off his neck and place gentle but passionate kisses to the area surrounding the wound. You take time to savor the taste, feeling as though you were one in that moment. His breathing hitches and you pull away.

“I’m sorry, I guess that was kinda weird.”

He laughs a little and shakes his head.

“No, not weird. It was-fuck.”

He shifts uncomfortably, and it’s hard to get a read on his emotions.

“Did I make it hurt worse?”, you asked, concerned.

“No, you actually.. you made it better, I think. Doesn’t hurt anymore”

You smile, satisfied.

You don’t quite understand, a switch had not been flipped. He was still the same Peter you always knew. You had kind of expected him to morph into some kind of monster once the chip was removed, but sitting next to you was the same person you loved, ocean blue eyes and a gentle face.

You didn’t know the exact specifics of the implant in his neck. All he said was that it restricts his powers, which he needed in order for you both to escape so you agreed to help him get it out.

“Okay. So… are you ready now? For the plan?”, you ask, nervous but excited to watch it all go down. He hadn’t told you every detail, but it was going to be violent and that was enough to get you intrigued.

“No, not right now. Not yet.” he replies.

Again, he shifts. This time you take your eyes off of his face and bring them downward to where he was having a problem.

“Is…that why you don’t wanna stand up?”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little, you could tell he was flustered and overwhelmed.

“The chip, it suppresses more than just my powers. It rendered me completely from feeling certain things as well. When you kissed my neck, I.. shit.. I could explode right now”

You scooted closer to him. “Can you do that again? Clean up the blood, you know?”

You nodded happily and repeated what you had done minutes before, trailing from his collarbone up to his neck stopping at the wound, licking up the red substance

and kissing his neck at the same time. He let out a long, desperate groan.

When you pulled away, before being able to wipe your mouth, you’re pulled back in again except this time your lips were on his.

It was messy, passionate, probably a little gross. But the way he was kissing you was animalistic, something you’d never ever expect out of him. You were surprised by this behavior, as he’s never been this way with you before.

You couldn’t tell if you were scared of him or wanted to fuck him. Both. It quickly turned to desperation more than lust.

“We don’t have too long, please just help me”

“Okay, okay, stand up”, you told him, voice slightly hushed, staying on the floor but sitting up on your knees.

His back pressed against the wall, you reach to feel him through his pants. So hard that it was probably painful. You unbuckle his belt and undo the zipper while looking up at him through your eyelashes.

. *this* is where something changes. His eyes are darker now. Once again, slightly scary but also really hot. You take his cock in your hand, gripping it firmly before quickly moving the tip to your lips. He groans again, cursing under his breath.

You took the head in your mouth, licking it and sucking on it, swirling your tongue all over. He takes a handful of hair from the back of your head and starts moving it for you, the slight sting from the pulling of your hair making you let out a whimper.

Before you know it, in an instant, the whole thing is in your warm and wet mouth, feeling the tip of it hit the back of your throat as he eventually just took over, fucking your mouth and desperate to release.

Your eyes watered, just from the reaction of gagging a couple of times. You understood his need, so you happily let him do with you what he pleased. After a couple of minutes, he’s fucking your face relentlessly and you look up at him through the blurry tears, just hoping you’re doing a good job at pleasing him.

You were, as his head fell backward and his eyes screwed shut. Neither of you get any warning, and he goes over the edge, cum going directly down your throat.

You continued to suck as it just kept coming, swallowing as needed. It wasn’t the best taste, but because it was his, you wanted every last drop of it. Once you were sure he was done, you pull your mouth off of him to which he groans and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and he reaches down to offer help standing up.

He gets his dick back into his pants and secured his zipper and belt, leaving his shirt untucked for the first time you’ve ever seen.

Once you’re up and he’s dressed again, he wipes underneath your eyes with both his thumbs, getting the tears off your face and kisses you on the forehead. He takes your hand, and you head up the stairs to the main part of the lab.

“Go to your room, princess, and wait for me.”

And you do as he says. He didn’t want you out there because he could never hurt you, even on accident. He wanted you safe from the violence that was about to take place, and he didn’t want to traumatize you either.

Soon enough, you’d be the last one left alive in the building along with him. He chose you, he spared you. After this, he told himself, he will protect you for the rest of his life.

#001 #peter ballard x you #peter ballard #henry creel #peter ballard smut #001 smut #001 x fem!reader

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icedmetaltea · 4 months

Note

I had this little idea, but I'm too shy to post it on my account and I didn't want to let it die. So how about a Sun and Moon outlast au?

You are an older brother, or maybe a parent, the point is that you have a small child to take care of. He disappeared and the only place the police didn't check is this crazy old place, abandoned for all you know and the police would ban you from going if they knew what you were planning.

So, you go in there and, the place is not abandoned

There are many people, deformed and thirsty for blood, you have to run, but you won't leave without your child, You find and a camera and a decent amount of batteries that you struggle to distribute, you lose some fingers, you definitely have traumas and you don't know how to get out, you start to convince yourself that your child is not here.

At one point you find a strange robot that chases you, it laughs like a maniac and its claws leave marks where they rest, it has red eyes that glow in the dark, its sharp teeth make you wonder if it eats meat. He is unexpectedly clean of blood, but to no one's surprise he is not afraid of getting stained. You run and stumble, in the end you reach this large room, it is colorful, happy, but the colors are worn out and there are brown stains on the floor, and you hear someone calling your name.

Your child comes out from under some rubble, runs towards you and you welcome him with open arms. Then you have a few seconds of relief, and then metal arms surround you and you spin around. A laugh resonates in your ears, your feet don't touch the floor and when you look up you see another robot, this time it has rays of sun, a happy smile, pure happiness and when you get off it introduces itself. His name is Sun, he is in charge of making you have a good time and taking care of your mental health.

The robot that chased you enters the room, and Sun must interfere. There is an argument, the red-eyed one says that you are trespassing on private property, and Sun says that they can make exceptions, after all you were friends with his little friend.

Then you spend a whole afternoon with them, the one you discover is called Moon tells you how he was patrolling when he came across this innocent child wandering in the yard, it was too dangerous to leave him there, too many bad people wandering around, they couldn't just push him into the woods. And Sun was glad to have a friend.

When you say you have to go, they just look at you. Moon says he will leave to patrol, you go after him shortly after saying goodbye to a Sun who just looks at you in silence.

The door is locked.

Goosebumps break out on your skin and you are acutely aware of the jingling bells approaching. You hide the child behind you and turn around. Sun opens his arms and talks about how it is safer here, the four of you could fit in here without a problem. Moon was always away but he would bring blankets, food and the basics, Sun would take care of you two, you would play a lot of games. No one would ever bother them.

You have a feeling these robots are going to be more trouble than any crazy person in this damn place.

You will do whatever it takes to protect the innocent who hides here, even if you have to fake a smile until you know how to escape. That probably won't go well the first few tries, you get somewhat humiliating punishments that you have to disguise for the infant, and Sun is okay with that.

But no matter how long it takes, you will get out of here.

FUCK YEA OUTLAST AUUUUUUUU

This is an awesome idea!! Idk if it's more scary to be around a bunch of insane humans or a couple robots with not all their screws intact (I'd stay with them in a heartbeat either way)

Dude imagine the daycare but like. It's even more in shambles and completely in the dark aside from the night vision on your camera. Sun's smile showing up a bit too bright around the corners. You can't even cry, you have to put up a brave face for the kid...

That is some gooooooood soup right there. Thank you for sharing!!!

#Answer tag #Metaltea Talks #delicious food thank you thank you #outlast au #*gives anon a pomander*#I may try drawing this sometime if I can draw like a decent background....

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tokiro07 · 7 months

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Cipher Academy ch.43 thoughts

[This Place About to Blow]

(Contents: Minor cast analysis, Iroha analysis)

Welp, Iroha's dead, series over I guess

So I'm admittedly disappointed that the dungeon doesn't seem to have monsters or enemies, just puzzles presented diegetically, though it's possible that Nisio just doesn't want to show his hand too early. For now, I'm going to assume that there's nothing fantastical until proven otherwise so I won't set myself up for further disappointment

I do really like that the aesthetic for the question boxes has changed to the glasses frames, that's a really nice touch and makes it feel like we're literally seeing from Iroha's perspective in that moment

I also like that even if there aren't enemies, the floors do have a pretty significant level of variety, including casino, mahjong parlor, aquarium, and overnight train. That last one in particular gives me hope since it means that the floors don't have to be stationary rooms. For all we know there could be a UFO floor or a floor the size of an entire town, but again, I'm getting ahead of myself

It's interesting seeing everyone planning their strategy, you need to have a clear approach when tackling a procedural game. Toshusai considering waiting for her group (strength in numbers) vs. speedrunning (getting experience, not sitting around) is the kind of question that only the frontrunner could have the luxury to consider. If she speeds ahead, she could get into trouble that she's not prepared for, but if she stays still, someone like Kubinashi could catch up and surpass her before her allies do

Speaking of, Yugata says she's planning to move ahead 25 floors to reach 175, where we know Kubinashi is waiting. Why is Yugata trying to get to Kubinashi and not Toshusai? I can't imagine she's plotting a betrayal, so if anything I'd wager she's either planning to snipe Kubinashi back to the first floor somehow or she has some pressing questions that she needs answered

Karigane notes that she can't leave messages behind or make any alterations that might help her trailing teammates, which implies that she was intending to do exactly that. Leave it to the mystery book fan to want to leave helpful codes behind

Meanwhile, Hanagoromo is checking to see if she can find any glitches or shortcuts, which makes sense for a member of the undercover ops Class E. Naturally, Hanagoromo's inclination is to check under the mahjong tables since she spends so much of her time under tables herself, but it also seems like a good place to look for glitches. Visual assets in games are often used to either obscure graphical errors (like Daisy's third eye under her hair in Melee) or to create optical illusions that give the impression that a visual looks how the designer wants, so in a room full of tables, there's a good chance that one of them is hiding some kind of unavoidable or possibly even deliberate error. I don't know if that error will be at all helpful for Hanagoromo, but hey, speedrunners break games in all kinds of novel ways, and I haven't got a single clue how they go about doing that in the first place, so godspeed to her

We cut to Nohime, Kogoe and Zakuroguchi acting as overseers of the game, each of them eating their signature food: Kogoe has a corndog with copius amounts of toppings, Nohime is sipping tea, and in the most shocking twist of all time, Zakuroguchi is eating a pomegranate (Zakuro meaning pomegranate). Man, this is making me want pomegranate...they're in season now, right?? Ah, but they're expensive...

ANYWAY!

We finally learn what Nohime meant went she said she lost her sight from a "dazzling code;" her vision was damaged while roaming the puzzle dungeon's prototype! The way they're talking about it, it sounds like they're saying that her eyes were physically damaged by the game, which implies to me that having the code projecting directly into her eyes by the glasses effectively fried her optic nerve or corneas the way that looking at the sun might. I can't imagine how much light is needed for a screen to recreate solar retinopathy, but I have to assume that the visual output of the glasses has been toned down to prevent that from happening again

Moving back to Iroha, he's joined by Koshibai who gave up her 100 floor advantage just so she'd be able to experience the entirety of the game. Even ignoring the fact that she just wants to have fun, I absolutely see the benefit in resetting: by skipping ahead so far, the player isn't just making up a lot of ground, they're being put in an inherently more difficult scenario without any clear baseline of what to expect. It's bound to be easier for a player starting at floor 200 to be killed by a lvl200 puzzle than it would be for a player whose had 200 floors to learn the ins-and-outs of the game as a whole, at least that's what I'd expect. Even if I'm technically smart enough to last at that skill level, I'd much prefer to work my way up so that I'm more familiar with the mechanics first

That said, we can be pretty sure that Iroha has the technical skill to be higher up, and yet he's having a lot of trouble on BF1, isn't he? He's getting way more flustered than he usually does, even considering that he has a ten second time limit. Hakanage's invisible ink puzzle was way harder than these ordnance puzzles, and he solved that quickly and calmly, but this is what's throwing him?

Well that's because, as Zakuroguchi points out, Iroha is already predisposed to having an aversion to ordnances. Astute readers may remember that Iroha told Yugata in the lipogram battle that he has an explosives handling license, which means that Iroha has experience with them. Despite having the license and skill to handle them, that doesn't necessarily mean that Iroha isn't afraid of them, and in fact is likely traumatized by them, either from a bad experience within the course he would have had to take to earn that license or from an event that prompted him to get his license in the first place. I still think some if not all of his cheer squad were killed in an explosion, hence why he also has trypophobia, and that trauma is giving him trouble dealing with this particular scenario

Koshibai encouraging Iroha to have fun with the game could be interpreted as her picking up on his insecurity, giving him the reassurance and grounding he needs to stop panicking and solve the final puzzle quickly. However, as we see with the explosion, it would appear that Iroha's newfound peace of mind did not allow him to find the right answer

Since Iroha was employing the right-hand technique to solve the maze (keeping your right hand on the wall to move along the perimeter and ensure you don't end up walking in circles), he missed the initial left turn that he was supposed to make. Because he took the wrong turn right at the beginning, it's hard to say how that affected the answers after the fact, but it's possible that they were trying to get him back on track, so maybe a few of the questions should technically be reversed?

Either that or the Xs don't refer to the shapes made by combining the arrows, but rather by overlaying the turns he was supposed to make themselves? If that's the case, then I think the answer should have been 3, as Iroha "crossed" over three times (1 to 2, 4 to 5, and 6 to 7, with 3 to 4 and 5 to 6 going in the same direction)

That, or Iroha DID notice something else (he did say "there's also this thing...") that gave him the hint he needed to solve the puzzle and the explosion we saw was what was supposed to happen, and Iroha and Koshibai are now moving down to the next floor through the opening created by the bomb

Honestly that's what I'm most expecting to happen, as knocking Iroha back to the start when he's at the start would most likely create needless padding, unless perhaps the stages change pretty significantly between visits. I suppose we'll find out soon enough, but that's my bet for now

#cipher academy #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

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fantasypictures · 4 months

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Cosmology - Demons, Devils, and the Other Guys

So, for my D&D world, I have some mutually conflicting wants:

-I don't like there being surity of an afterlife, being a place you can just pop in to with a high level spell. I like how Eberron has the land of the dead as a place souls go for a little while before vanishing - to oblivion? to a true afterlife? who knows?

-I really like tha Aesthetic of Hell and there being Fiends and such out to get people, and as stupid as it is, I've always loved D&D's concept of The Blood War.

So, a proposal for a solution, built of parts stolen from a few D&D settings and various popular media:

The Abyss / Demons

Imagine that the Universe is a room. The creator gods made it nice. They got in some comfy furniture. Tasteful wallpaper. But it's not perfect. Maybe not quite enough ventilation, maybe the wrong kind of flooring.

If you spill something, it gets under the floor and then Stuff starts Growing.

The Abyssal Realm is in the cracks at the edges of reality, and it's where demons grow - they are the mortal concept evil that has seeped through the cracks and festered into semi-sentient form. Each demon is created from some sin of mortal kind, and if they can claw their way into reality, they will do everything in their power to commit or encourage the evil they represent.

The good news is that there's not a whole heap of reality there to go around, so the demons don't have a lot of autonomy to work with - they spend most of their time not being real, so they mostly only get to do their thing when somebody summons them somewhere with more reality to work with.

(as an aside, Evil is a very mortal concept and something philosophers have argued over for aeons. Demons can spawn from anything anybody thinks is evil - everybody expects demons of murder or torment or cruelty, but smart demonologists try to track down with less power or weirdly specific purviews to summon. While a Demon of Women Being Allowed To Own And Ride Bicycles might not be terribly useful most of the time, if you're female-presenting and need a pair of wheels to get somewhere quickly, it's a lot safer than any other demonic option)

Dead souls don't end up in the Abyss unless something has gone drastically wrong.

Hell / Devils

If the Abyss is the space under the linoleum and the mould there is demonkind, then Hell is tearing up the lino and applying napalm and white phosphorus to "solve" the issue.

Whether Asmodeus was assigned this task, took it upon himself, or was banished to the Abyss and decided to make himself comfortable is unclear. Whatever the case, he hates Demons, and he hates Mortals for indirectly creating them, and he always needs more recruits.

The dead aren't supposed to end up in Hell, but if they opt in, that's where they go. Now, not many people are going to agree to exist in a literal hellscape where they must fight an eternal war against demons until their personality and dreams are slowly dissolved and they become devils. It's not a good deal. Which is why Asmodeus' minions try to influence the mortal plane - the more terrible things are up there, the more likely somebody will be desperate enough to take a deal. Failing that, convincing people they deserve to be in Hell will do.

If somebody is enough of an asshole to those around them, a devil may well lend them some magic powers purely because it will cause more suffering and indirectly lead somebody else to make a deal out of desperation.

The Shadowfell / The Other Guys

So where are dead souls supposed to go? The gods aren't to forthcoming as to whether this was the plan, but generally dead people show up in the Shadowfell, on black sands under an alien sky of unmoving stars. There is a Final Gate somewhere, and beyond that... nobody knows for sure. Some people are drawn to the gate. Some people flee, hiding among the ruins of civilizations that never existed, or escape back to the material plane to become Undead.

There are Fiends there as well. Devils are sent to the Shadowfell to coax souls away from the gate and into servitude. Demons try to claw their way there, for even if it is a plane of the dead, it has more reality than their home. And the easiest way to get there is the rivers of the underworld - at least one of which washes away memory. Sometimes the legions of Hell and the Abyss suffer boating accidents.

Some of the amnesiac fiends of the Shadowfell call themselves Yugoloths, some call themselves Daemons, a fair few don't bother calling themselves anything. They are first and foremost Mercenary - they'll work for souls, for gold, for a sandwich, anything they can be convinced they could benefit from having. They have no qualms about committing any horrible act, any violence, any betrayal, but won't do anything without a payoff.

For a summoner, they are by far among the best fiends to call up - they don't require the dangerous contracts that Devils ask for, and they don't need to constantly commit a specific evil act like a demon. They are, unfortunately, really hard to summon because none of them remember their own names.

#jarrah does an rpg blog #D&D #cosmology

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friendlylocalwhumper · 10 months

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It's going well, this mission. Quinn has been undercover for two weeks and already they have trade secrets stuffed into their waistband, a dozen eight-digit file numbers memorized, the personal cell number of the CEO's right-hand man, and a rapport with the head of security.

They stiffly tighten their ponytail, flexing aching fingers in their compression gloves, and then return to scanning security camera footage with the guard lounging in his desk chair.

When the door bursts open behind them, Quinn doesn't flinch. They watch the visitor to the security office in the reflections on their monitor, still urgently scrubbing through footage. There was a break-in earlier and everyone's been on edge today trying to find who or what tripped two alarms in a row. Sometimes a bird gets in through the vents, so...

"Got 'em," Says the reflection of the standing figure, and Quinn spins in their chair to see another guard with his fist twisted in some dirty, bloody guy's hair. They know instantly that this is the intruder, and that he was trying to hide for hours, then tried to fight his way out. There's a wild panic in his eyes, his breaths escaping as hisses through gritted teeth, and his sneakers scrape across the floor as he tries and fails to get to his feet.

Sneakers?

As the victorious guard and the lazy guard discuss what to do, Quinn frowns. Loafers or dress shoes if you're pretending to be someone official, boots if you're playing the role of a cop or a fed, bare feet if you're a pitiful captive. Sneakers? You wear those if you know you'll be running, relying on your own speed to survive, not a team. So he's alone. Why did he break in? Running, alone... if he knew he'd need to be fast, he must've known exactly where to go and what to grab. There's no backpack on him, no tool belt, no devices to communicate with backup, just a watch. He knew how to time it, but something screwed up his plan. He was only going to grab something small, he didn't need a bag to hold it - papers? Evidence of some kind?

In the three seconds it took Quinn to scan the intruder with their eyes and assess his intentions, the victorious guard drew his gun. Aware that their reactions need to be kept locked down, Quinn bites the inside of their cheek and shrugs when asked what they think.

"Well. He doesn't look dangerous. Standard to take him to-" This place doesn't have interrogation rooms or cells, like some of the other places they've infiltrated in the past year. They adjust their vocabulary accordingly. "-a room with a door that locks, with no files or computers in it. Find a supervisor, bring in an expert on cor-, uh!" Quinn startles, standing jerkily when they see the intruder's head being yanked back and the gun being shoved up under his jaw. "-Corporate espionage, um, should you be doing that?"

They just lost some interpersonal rapport by saying that, they think, as the other two guards look up at them with furrowing brows and skeptical sets to their jaws. Quinn imagines an "Everyone disliked that" notification at the top corner of the screen in their mind. Could be worse, not ideal.

"You're right," Says the impatient and armed guard, letting his arm fall so the intruder can lower their head. No more immediate threat of death. Quinn lets out a slow breath that won't be as obvious as a sigh. Trigger-happy enemies are risky, okay, this situation is disruptive to their plan and since death isn't an immediate threat-

Something in the small, dark room cracks and flashes light. Two cracks, actually, so loud that Quinn's hands fly up to their ears. They're blinking and zeroing in on the gun as the source of the alarming sensory input right around the time that the intruder makes a struggling-to-process-this whine and then arches back to gasp-keen-scream.

Dark stains blossoming and spreading at his left knee and right thigh. He can't run, he could bleed out, what if he's someone important, why did he wear sneakers?

"-Knox," Someone says, and Quinn blinks up at the lazy guard, recognizing their alias for this mission on the third or fourth time that it was aimed at them. "Fuck's wrong with you?"

The spy blinks and then meets the guy's wary gaze before checking on the speed of the spread of blood on those cargo pants. "Um. Nothing. That's-"

"You didn't know what we do to intruders and spies?" Says the guard still lounging in his chair, and Quinn knows that either they've been found out, or they're in danger of it, so they swallow their distress and shrug, muttering something about not knowing they meant this during training.

The gun moves, the tip pressed to the center of the writhing spy, and Quinn watches with hawk eyes. The guard's finger moves to the trigger ready to send a bullet tearing through a heart- "No!" Shrieks Quinn, standing and shoving their chair back, lunging forward to shove the guard away, or pull the intruder closer, he knows something and he could have any encrypted or incomplete secrets in his pockets and he was here for a reason and he's just like them!

Another too-loud crack, and a flash, and the body falls the rest of the way to flop onto the floor with a new dark stain spreading at its chest, but it's still moving oh no the intruder didn't die instantly, he's reaching for their ankle and choking on blood and Quinn feels the world flip violently, and knows distantly that they're fainting.

#whump #drabble #mine #quinn #guns #blood #death tw #angst #afraid

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