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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Old Scars, New Blood 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: Man, I need some sleep.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

As the large house fills with the rabble of strange men and flowing alcohol, you retreat back to your quarters and stare at your dead phone. Still not sign of life from Lloyd but that doesn't worry you in any existential way. He always finds a way to scrape by, it's just that you usually hear from him by now. Even when he leaves you behind, he has a dozen orders for you. Not that time.

You lean against the headboard and mull the walls. Maybe you'll finally leave this life. You should be proud you got this far. You weren't exactly honed in blood like these underhanded mercenaries. You're just an executive assistant who took a chance. A woman and a Craig's List add, what an origin story.

After a while, you find it hard to sit still. You leave your bed in a mess from the turmoil of your nerves. You drag yourself to the door. You must look like you're going through a breakup, at the very lest, a crisis. A grey gap hoodie and black leggings. You shuffle around in your beat up Keds and drift downstairs, concealing yourself in the distraction and cacophony of the full house. Valhalla and his men jeer from the dining room as you slip past, a quick peek inside at the joining of forces.

Rico sits near the head of the table next to the gargantuan blonde with his braided locks and rugged jawline. The host looks less than impressed as his guest guffaws and claps his back roughly. You don't stay and watch, hurrying on as your stomach squeezes hungrily. You find when Lloyd's not around to demand his meals, you tend to forget to feed yourself.

You enter the kitchen and find chaos strewn over the counter tops. Bottles, some half-filled, others empty, littered over the granite. Crumbs and whole chunks of cheese and meat tossed around carelessly, a lingering stench hanging in the air. You assume the staff is hiding until there aren't men mixing alcohol and firearms.

You pull open the fridge and growl to find your neatly stacked containers gone. You keep your own food and Lloyd's precisely curated. You're a planner and meal planning is your greatest pride. While the other men depend on the processed foods dished up by the help, you make sure to feed your boss his preferred organic cuts. The door shuts as you let it go and turn to peruse the kitchen. There's a bag of biscuits with some spilling out. You leave the spilled cookies on the counter and claim the rest.

You stop as you come to face the wine rack. A single bottle remains in the crisscrossed slats of wood. You're not exactly fond of Risling but you've never been very picky. Nor much of a drinker.

You slide the bottle out with a soft clink against the rack and consider the label. You're not expert, would it pair well with shortbread? You compare the rumbled package of cookies and the pristine font on the bottle.

"Another!" The booming voice makes you leap and you spin around, the wine sloshing in the glass and loosening your grip. You face the large man as he bounces into the kitchen and the long neck slips free entirely. You step back with a surprised squeak as the glass smashes around your feet, sending a splash of wine up your leggings.

Valhalla stops short as he finds you standing in the ruin of your surprise. His rosy cheeks pale and his cheeks draw to a more sober expression, a glint still gleaming behind his bright blue irises, "ah, pardon, my lady, I didn't mean to startle you. And look at what I've done," he gestures to your feet. You lift a shoe and he makes a noise, "ah, ah, do not move."

He comes closer as you stand dumbly in the shards. You look down then back at him. "I have shoes on--"

"And you wouldn't want to stain them," he insists as he nears. You shy away but not fast enough. He picks you up easily, like a hero in a ridiculous story, scooping you over the broken glass and carrying you to safe ground. "Forgive me for wasting the wine."

"It's fine," you wiggle in his hold, the bag of cookies wrinkling loudly, "really, I think..." you look down, dizzy as you see the pattern of tile below, "you can put me down, sir. Please, if you don't mind."

"As you wish," he places you gently on your feet, "what an introduction. Valhalla," he holds out his large hand, his palm rough and calloused, fingers thick but lock, "and you, beautiful woman lurking in the shadows?"

Your breath is stolen by the unexpected compliment. You remind yourself that it is only gas. He's like Lloyd, he must be, compliments are only currency. You take his hand and introduce yourself as sternly as you can. Your voice is barely more than a mousy squeak.

"It is you," he lights up as he tilts his head, clinging to your hand.

"Me?" You question.

"Oh, I hope you remember. I suppose I am forgettable. We emailed... how pathetic I must sound," he chuckles at himself.

"No, I remember," you wiggle your hand and look at it, still trapped in his grip.

"Apologies," he lets you go, fingers brushing your palm reluctantly, "I only... I was disappointed when you disappeared."

"I disappeared?" You frown. "You never answered my last message."

"I..." he pauses, "I was in communication with Hansen, he said he preferred to take on the negotiations himself."

"Oh," you nod. Lloyd never mentioned that. "Of course, I'm so... careless. I have so much going on. I... I should've said goodbye. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he pleas, "you've nothing to be sorry for. I should be. I might make it up to you. You like wine, so let us grab a bottle and catch up."

"Catch up," you muse meekly, "you make it sound like we're old friends."

"Aren't we?"

"Emails..." you murmur.

He laughs as he turns and goes to the wine rack, ignoring the puddle of glass and wine by his feet.

"That was the last bottle," you say dully.

"There must be a cellar, I'm certain the best vintages are there," he turns as he pokes his finger into the air, "let us go scavenge."

"Uh, that's nice and all but I think... cookies are just fine for me."

"Cookies?" He comes back to you, eyeing the bag in your hand, "shortbread. My favourite."

"Oh, well, erm, if you want some--"

"Only if you come with them," he meets your gaze and you shy away at his implication.

You open your mouth but no sound comes out.

"I mean, I'd like to eat them with you. Share them," he stammers slightly, another rocky chuckle escapes him, "I've been on the road long, I'm afraid I'm bit delirious."

"It's fine, I wouldn't want to-- you and your men should settle in and maybe tomorrow--"

"Tonight. Right now. I can't wait. I'm not known for it," he seizes your hand, "come, meet my men."

"I... please," he tugs you, moving you with little effort, "I'm only an assistant."

"Bring your cookies," he insists, ignoring your protests.

You can't stop him. Your soles squeak and slide under you as he drags you into the hall and through the wide archway of the dining room. The men at the table are drunk and a few whistle as you pass by, even as female agents sit smattered among the group.

Valhalla brings you to the head of the table and claims the empty chair awaiting him. Before you can react, he lifts you onto his lap, his arm firm against your back.

"Wait-- what are you--" you can barely catch your breath with how fast everything is moving, "I really should-- Lloyd will be back soon and I have to--"

"Forget him. I want to know about you," he bows his head, focusing on the cookie bag as he slips his fingers through the open top. He plucks one out, admiring it before holding it out to you, "please, you first."

You go to take the cookie from him, shifting on his leg, uncomfortable as you hear the snickers from the table. You must look ridiculous. This man is like a storm, he just comes in and blows everything out of sorts. He pulls the cookie away from your reaching fingers, instead hovering it before your mouth. You swallow, too humiliated to look anywhere but him.

"I can--"

He shakes his head and presses the shortbread to your lips, quieting you. You open your mouth and bite into the crumble buttery goodness. You snap your teeth shut and chew stiffly, lowering your eyes as he watches you. He tosses the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and hums.

"Delicious," he remarks as his fingers tickle the back of your arm, "now, we have tonight. Tomorrow we can work, but now, you will tell me everything."

"Lloyd--"

"Not him," he interrupts again, "you," he cups your chin in his hand, "I travelled all this way, won't you humour me just a little?"

You rub your lips together. What can you say? Every time you try to come up with something, it begins 'Lloyd...' Is there even anything interesting about you? Have you lost yourself so completely to your own foolish crush?

"Tell me," Valhalla rests his hand on your shoulder more firmly, "anything. Tell me your favourite cookie. Just speak and I will listen."

You look at him again. Listen? How long have you longed for someone to do just that? To be heard? To be seen? It's almost as if he knows and is heeding that desperate call inside of you.

"The little..." you put your fingers up to show the size you have in mind, "jam-filled ones," your voice grows less wobbly as you speak, "with the bit of custard."

"Ah, those are a delight," he proclaims, "my brother is overly fond of those. I caught him sneaking some at the family holiday last year-- anyhow, he is another matter. I see it, you are sweet, you like sweet things." He frames your face with his hand, "and you have a sweet voice, tell me more.”

"I..." you begin and push your shoulders into a shrug. You take out a cookie, needing to do something with your hands, "I'm not that interesting."

You nibble on the cookie as he laughs again. Not mean or judgmental like Lloyd, just fun. You focus on chewing, wilting away as you feel him watching you.

"I'm interested," he intones, his timbre blowing through you.

You don't know what to say. There are no words. It's like you're the centre of the world in that moment, or at the least, of his. A man you hardly know, a man you only ever encountered in text.

Or maybe you're all wrong. Maybe you're misinterpreting every word he says. Just like you did with Lloyd. Searching for any sliver of longing.

"In fact," he leans back, rubbing your back casually, "you're the only interesting thing I've found in this place."

❤️‍🩹

The night sweeps you up like a whirlwind. You don't quite remember it ending, waking up in bed with remnants of the evening dancing in your mind. Valhalla's voice nips at you, sending spirals over your flesh, zapping every nerve as it echoes in your ears.

You almost feel guilty that he's your first thought. How he never looked away, never spoke to anyone else, only you. His entire focus was yours.

And yours was his. You listened to his stories, mentions of his family, though his reputation never suggested sentiment. His tales of firefights made comical by his retelling. The way he described his homeland like some mystical paradise. He filled the void left by your own boring life.

You stretch and roll over, sitting up as something dangles down your chest. You look down. Still inhe same hoodie you wore all night was a charm hanging between the strings. You take it between your fingers and examine the medallion, a bullet lodges into it, the burn of gunpowder seared around it. Strange.

A waft of amber and citrus clings to the sweater. You dare to take a whiff before you stand. It smells like him.

You peel off your sweater reluctantly and hang it, opting to skip the hamper. You strip your leggings and your undershirt and pick a fresh outfit. Something more appropriate.

You force yourself into the shower and come out feeling awake. You pull on each piece; a pair of stiff slacks and a striped blouse, paired with a gray blazer. Your usual dull attire.

You sit and slide into a pair of leather flats. The mornings aren't usually hard. Something is different. Something has changed.

You head downstairs and find several staff working at tidying the previous night's ribaldry. You enter the kitchen and set the keurig to brew a cup as bodies scurry around you. Everyone has their place here; you, Rico, and Lloyd.

But not Valhalla.

At the very thought of him, a blaring horn takes over. Your ears throb and you forget your mug as you race to the front door. There's a man passed out against the wall in his own puke. Wonderful.

You pull open the left door as the gate opens and tires bounce over the paved drive. Lloyd is behind the wheel to your surprise, laying into the horn as he skids to a halt. Grumbling comes from behind you as Rico drags his feet and peers out over your head.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

The alcohol lingers in his breath. You step outside to escape his stench. Lloyd swings open the door and hops out, smiling at the sky as he presents himself as some great hero returned home.

“Morning, fuckers!” He bellows.

Silence, only an odd rhythm. You realise as a figure jogs around the east wing that it's footfalls. You turn to look as Rico and Lloyd do the same. It's him, Valhalla, running towards you.

He smiles, unaffected by his brisk pace as he nears, a smile on his face as he waves. He slows and you get a clear sight of his shirtless torso. He wears only running shoes and a pair of riskily short shorts.

There's a sheen of sweat over his skin but he hardly seems spent. His veins bulge beneath his skin and his muscles are thick but toned. His chest is broad and trimmed in golden hair, every part him immense and statuesque.

You almost let out the ‘wow’ as it creeps up your throat.

“Who the fuck is this ken doll?” Lloyd asks as he points to Valhalla.

“Ah, you must be Hansen,” Valhalla ignores his brusque question and holds put his hand.

“Who's asking?” Lloyd rests his hand on his holster.

Valhalla smiles and gives his name, unfaltering as he keeps his hand put. Lloyd doesn't shake it as he scowls. He looks the larger man up and down.

“You're early.”

“Or you're late,” Valhalla challenges and turns, clapping his hand on Lloyd's shoulder as it goes unshaken, “I thought you'd be bigger.”

Lloyd tilts his head, a grimace twisting his features, “huh?”

“I must day, it's a nice property,” Valhalla continues, gesturing to the house. He smirks and gives you a wink, “very welcoming.” He grips Lloyd's shoulder and pulls him closer, “I could get you somewhere even bigger. How about that?”

Lloyd squints at Valhalla, head craned awkwardly, “yeah?”

Valhalla smiles, “let's talk.”

#lloyd hansen #thor #dark lloyd hansen #dark thor #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!thor #thor x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #mcu #marvel #avengers #fic #au #series #multifandom #dark fic #dark!fic

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befuddled-calico-whump · 4 months

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cw: aftermath of whump, implied abuse, fantasy slavery, violence, manhandling.

based on this prompt by @howls-ghost

"Trite details bore me. I'll leave it to you to complete, and complete quickly," said Prince Acacius.

"I've had enough of your dimwitted blathering. See yourself to the door," said Prince Acacius.

"Remember your place," said Prince Acacius.

Laith was sick of it. Sick of the arrogant little brat prancing around the palace like he was already king. They hated Acacius and his cold, dismissive attitude. The spoiled twat didn't know a thing about running a kingdom, and wouldn't know humility if it bit him on the nose.

The only reason the country wasn't already in ruins was due to the competence of Laith and the rest of the high council. Even the regent, as good a man he was, was taken out of commission by Acacius, forced to keep the aloof young man at his side at all hours for supposed education. Not that Laith believed Acacius absorbed any of it. He was a horrid prince, and he'd make a horrid king.

And Laith intended to do something about it.

It started as something small and reasonable; a daydream about teaching the prince a lesson, of having him whipped for insolence, or beaten in the streets, or simply pushed off the balcony.

But none of those were realistic dreams, and none of those were enough. Acacius needed a punishment that would stick, something scarring, something humiliating.

The thoughts danced across Laith's mind through all their waking hours, turning sharper and more creative with every insult from the rotten prince.

But then, they thought, why bother with a mere punishment? Why not be rid of the arrogant heir for good? Death was too quick for his poisoned heart, but there were alternatives. Slavers in the West and enemies in the North, and either faction would jump at the chance to own the pretty prince. Should Laith's goal be realized, it would do more than sate their need for justice; it would spare the kingdom from a heartless ruler.

They'd lock him in a cell with no sunlight for a year. They'd remove his acrid tongue, put out his disdainful eyes, somehow they'd hurt him in a way that mattered.

They took their time making the arrangements; letters delivered in secret, coded messages, quiet plans and plots to cover the prince's upcoming disappearance. At last, the hour was drawing near. At last, Acacius would get all that he deserved.

But of course, Laith would have their fun with him first.

They came upon the royal in the dead of night. Laith had been making note of Acacius's movements, and by now they knew to expect the young man's midnight journey to the library. Too good to be seen there in daylight hours, when servants were dusting and lesser lords were reading. Too good to even peruse the shelves alongside those he deemed as unworthy.

Laith fell upon the prince as soon as he reached the library doors, wrapping their arm tight around a torso clad in a loose silk shirt, their other hand clamped over Acacius's mouth to dampen his startled cry. The prince made fearful noises beneath their hand, but there was no time to savor the sound. Laith knew they must move swiftly or risk alerting the night watch.

They slammed the prince's head into the heavy oak door behind him. Once, twice, and then their royal prisoner's struggling lessened. Laith forced him to the ground, stuffing a wad of cloth into his mouth and tying it in place with a cord. That same cord trailed down from the prince's head to wind around his wrists, then back up again to circle his throat, forming a makeshift collar and leash to better Laith's control of him. He tugged harshly at the rope, and the dazed prince stumbled to his feet, whimpering softly from behind the gag.

There was no haughtiness in his eyes, only something meek and fearful. It was nearly enough to make Laith second-guess their plans, but their memories of the man they knew Acacius to be strengthened their resolve.

They would not fall for this docile ruse. They knew the truth.

Laith delved deeper into the castle, making for one of the secret passages in the stone that would lead them outside the keep. There was a cottage at the edge of the woods, overlooking the river that ran alongside the castle's walls. A peasant girl had sighted it after Laith offered her a penny to find a covert location. It was perfect; well away from anyone who could hear them, and the river would make an easy path for the slavers' skiff.

They hauled Acacius into the cottage, unable to resist giving the prince a sharp kick in the back that sent him tumbling to the ground. The slavers weren't set to arrive until just before sunrise. Laith had nearly an hour to get revenge for every petty insult that had ever been flung their way.

Laith dropped a knee into the prince's chest, holding his head in place while he removed the gag.

Acacius's eyes were teary and pleading, but Laith refused to let the act sway them. If anything, it only fueled their fire. How dare this impudent brat act like this was unearned? Now safe behind a closed door, Laith let their fury burn, raining fists and kicks down on the prince's helpless form, relishing every muffled cry. No, they shouldn't be muffled. They wanted to hear Acacius plead for mercy.

"N-nnh please... Please don't," the shaky words left Acacius's throat with the balled-up cloth. Laith answered him with another blow, and the prince squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened again, there was a distant look to them, tears trickling from the corners.

No matter. Soon they'd be rid of him for good.

Small whimpers and gasps left Acacius's throat as Laith continued the beating, but aside from a few weak pleas, the prince didn't speak, or even look their way. Like he was only waiting for it to end. Their blows slowed, the enjoyment fading as the royal seemed to detach himself from the moment. Laith huffed. Even bound and beaten, Acacius was still ruining their day.

Ignoring the blank look on the prince's face, Laith drew their knife, cutting away Acacius's clothing. Even if that didn't get a reaction, it served the practical purpose of making things a shade easier on the slavers.

The prince lay very still, his breaths small and shaky as Laith removed the ruined clothing. And underneath the silk... Laith was unprepared for what was underneath the silk.

Old bruises covered Acacius's torso, scars layered beneath, some fresher than others. The wounds didn't stop there; more scars scattered the prince's legs, some framed in a sickly yellow-green.

"What is this?" Laith whispered, the question half-directed at themselves. Acacius didn't answer, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that looked glazed over.

Seeing another wound on their prisoner's shoulder, this one oddly shaped, Laith grabbed Acacius's upper arm and rolled him onto his stomach. The prince answered the action with a startled cry.

"N-no, please, please don't---"

"Shut up," Laith hissed, taking in the prince's back. It seemed the brat had been whipped before, and on more than one occasion by the looks of it. They couldn't say whether the dark feeling welling up in them was more akin to pity, or bitterness that they hadn't been able to witness the lashings themselves.

Starker than the whip scars was the image burned into Acacius's back. An intricate pattern, asymmetrical and varied in color, like its artist had begun months or even years ago and was still perfecting it. The newest mark was still a bright, skinless red, as if it had been smouldering mere hours ago.

Laith let out a disgusted sigh, turning their back on the sniveling prince. It seemed Acacius had been getting what he'd deserved for some time now, but it had done little to improve his attitude. Who had done this to him? Could it have been the regent? Why was pity seeping into them, like poison from a soured wound?

Acacius didn't deserve their pity. Wounded or not, he still paraded the palace ground like a bejeweled goose, hissing and biting at anyone he seemed lesser.

But why? came a small voice inside them. Why put on such an arrogant mask?

It didn't matter. Wounded or not, the prince should have better respected Laith and their peers.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Laith pushed it open an inch to peer out into the darkness. A pale woman with a shaved head stood on the other side, wearing clothing that was clearly foreign, despite its simplicity.

"Here to collect your gift?" they said, and the woman smiled.

"Aye. The North'll pay a pretty penny for your little heir."

"Wonderful," Laith said, but the word felt insincere. They couldn't let themselves doubt their plans now, the deed was nearly done. They opened the door further. "Take him then. Let's have this over with."

Acacius lay still on the ground, though his hands were trembling. He'd ceased his begging and was now crying softly and hells, Laith couldn't stand to hear it.

They bent over the prince, grabbing a fistful of his hair and roughly stuffing the gag back into his mouth to muffle that damned pathetic noise.

"Take him," they said again, more insistently. "Take him and be gone."

"S'wrong with his back?"

"I don't know." Laith shook their head. "Take him."

"Not a word of me," they said. "You'll make a fortune off him, all I ask is my name and face remain unknown."

"Alright, alright." The woman seized the rope, the leash Laith had formed, and tugged on it, forcing the prince to his feet. Acacius's eyes were teary and pleading, but Laith turned their back on him.

"Your wish is my command," the woman chuckled, leading the prince towards the rocky shore, where her boat lay waiting. A sob escaped Acacius as he passed the threshold.

"Wait." Hells, what were they saying? They wanted nothing more to do with the royal. They needed him gone, but when the prince turned back to look at them, the flash of hope in his eyes wrenched in their gut.

Those damned eyes. Those haughty, arrogant, judging eyes.

"Remember your place," said Prince Acacius.

"Nevermind," Laith said quickly. "Go. Get him out of here."

The woman tugged on the leash, nearly causing the bound royal to stumble. Fresh tears wet Acacius's cheeks, but Laith looked away, pretended not to see.

They could pretend a lot of things. Surprise at the prince's sudden disappearance, sorrow and outrage at his captivity in the enemy North. For themselves, they'd pretend they were satisfied, that they'd never seen Acacius's scars.

And as they watched the skiff disappear on the dark waters of the river, they pretended they had no regrets.

#:) we love some arrogant royal suffering #royal whump #anyways i can no way afford to make this a series lol so it'll probably sit at a one-off for a very long time (if i even write more at all)#ooh honestly if we wanna play a game of 'whump telephone' or pass the page or whatever someone else can write the next part #and then another person can write the next part #and so on #those are fun i do them with my sister sometimes #anyways GREAT prompt thank you howls-ghost #royal whumpee #captivity #past torture #whump fic #fantasy whump #beating #begging

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ellephlox · 2 years

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Masterlist

Peruse the links below at your discretion; they’re all Matt Murdock x Reader.

EMBERS AND ASHES is a full-length story and is mostly posted on Archive of Our Own, but you can access Chapter One below. Quick overview of the genres — FLUFF is mostly little scenarios that should make you feel better if you’re having a bad day; there might be some physical intimacy but it’s not the focus of the fic. HURT/COMFORT usually will have both the physical hurt and the subsequent comfort — I tend to not write fics that lack the comfort (and if I do, I’ll make note of it). ANGST, on the other hand, isn’t physical but emotional hurt, and I try to include comfort in there, too. ROMANCE is basically fluff but with more of a focus on the *spicier* tension between Matt and Y/N. That being said, I don’t write smut, so it won’t ever get very explicit :)

Also - not fics, but here is my photo with Charlie when I got to meet him at Dortmund CC in 2022, and here is the video of the conversation I had with him while getting my autograph!

EMBERS AND ASHES

Chapter One is located here on tumblr, and here on AO3.

FLUFF

Audiometry - You test Matt’s hearing and make a game out of it

Mimicry - You, Matt, Karen, and Foggy play Description Charades

Frivolity - You and Matt go to a playground in the middle of the night

Devil’s (Bad) Luck - You get cursed to be extremely unlucky for a day

Deprivation - You try to go 60 hours without sleep to win a bet

Lie Detector - You have 48 hours to try to lie to Matt without him noticing

Echolocation - A bat gets into the apartment and Matt isn’t much help

Lights Out - The power goes out while you and Matt are in a haunted mansion

HURT/COMFORT

(Un)Stealthy - You get injured and try hiding it from Matt

The Sleeping Bag - Matt accidentally hurts you

Keyholes - You get assaulted and Matt’s not there to save you

Obstinacy - You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you

Strawberry Rhubarb - You get kidnapped by Fisk

Muted Dawn - You get mugged in the middle of the night

Head Over Heels - You sprain your ankle wearing high heels

Solidarity - Matt isn’t happy about you joining him and Frank on a mission

ANGST

Summer Hues - You have to put your pet down

Discordant (part i) - Matt is angry with you when you risk your life for his; Concordant (part ii) - You and Matt must endure a “kidnapping” to make up

ROMANCE

Wavelengths - You go shopping for a dress and Matt decides to come

Big Fish - Matt wants you to go swimming with him

Castle in the Sky - Matt tries to teach you self-defense

Matt x Autistic!Reader

Anchor - You get overstimulated at a party and Matt helps you calm down

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merakiui · 1 year

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no because imagine you drop floyd after he proposes to you - you can probably write an okay article with what you’ve got - and you think you’re done with him for good, until a few weeks later you see that he’s run away from prison. imagine the fear of knowing he’s just out there and the way all his threats are circling across your mind, especially in the middle of the nights when the shadows look a little too similar to a certain someone.

And you'll never be able to predict what he might do now that he's escaped. Will he lay low until the chaos dies down? Will he come right for you, disregarding the risk altogether? Will he change his appearance to blend in with society? Have you already seen him out of the corner of your eye, or is that just your paranoia playing tricks on you? It's so terrifying and anxiety-inducing. You'll live in a constant state of fear and uncertainty. Every little sound startles you. From a creaky floorboard to the wind blowing harshly outside, it gives you such a terrible fright and triggers your flight or fight response immediately.

To keep yourself safe, you've installed extra locks on your doors, you keep your windows locked tight and the curtains closed, and you've even taken to staying with a friend or a loved one every now and then on the days when you don't feel very comfortable sleeping at home. You never stay out late anymore, and if you absolutely must you never travel home. You'll find somewhere to stay for the night, even if that means coughing up the funds for a one-night stay at a hotel. Even doing things during the day is frightening. You fear Floyd might pop out of nowhere and it'll be over for you. And you're constantly checking the news every day to see if there are any updates regarding the search for him. He's dangerous and hostile; surely they'll catch him. Surely they'll find him soon. Right?

You've finished writing the article and you've sent it to your editor for their perusal, but somehow you feel like it's better off remaining unpublished. You worry Floyd might see it if he happens to have access to the internet, and if he reads it and doesn't like what you've written... You shudder to think about what he can and will do to you if he ever catches you. He'd been so intent on marrying you when you met with him during interviews, shamelessly sharing all sorts of fantasies he's thought up involving you. Some were violent and criminal. Others were lewd and gross. Some were oddly...soft? Domestic? Sweet? Regardless, every fantasy of his was creepy when spoken in that lazy drawl. The one that crawls up your spine and settles into your bone marrow. Even now, you can hear how he'd pronounce 'Shrimpy' so perfectly, drawing out each letter with a toothy grin.

Weeks become months. No progress has been made on the search. It's as if Floyd's vanished, and that doesn't sit right with you. It's getting harder to go outside, to meet people, to stay in touch, to write articles and set up interviews. You feel trapped in your house but, most of all, in your own skin. Floyd's still out there. You're reminded of that fact when you watch the news or are asked for details from colleagues or even the police, all of them wondering where you think he might be because, in their words, "You know him better than we do." And that's true to an extent. You do know Floyd; you've interviewed him, read the official criminal psychology report that dissected and diagnosed him, and have penned an entire journal's worth of notes about his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests and hobbies, and so on. But you can never put yourself in the shoes of a killer, and so it's impossible to predict where he might be.

You think you might be going insane because you're certain you're misplacing things out of fear, rearranging them out of some anxious habit, and eating more from your fridge and pantry because you're trying to cope with the stress. When shadows take the shape of Floyd, you have to blink hard and remind yourself that, while he's childish and impulsive most of the time, he isn't a fool. He wouldn't break into your house so suddenly. He's smart, even if he pretends like he isn't. He must be if he's been able to evade capture for this long.

But as long as he remains free, you will never be able to rest peacefully. Which is so unfortunate because Floyd wants his Shrimpy to be comfortable! He'll come get you soon. And when he does you'll never have to be scared of anything ever again.

#twisted chit chat #serial killer floyd #i missed writing for the beloved sk floyd <3

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hestiasroom · 11 months

Text

At first I wasn’t particularly inclined to watch Matt Walsh’s documentary What is a Woman? I know the answer to that one already. Everybody does.

A woman is someone who isn’t allowed a final say on what a woman is. Pretending not to know this — that defining “woman” is incredibly complex and bewildering — is an age-old tactic deployed by non-women, usually in order to excuse treating us badly.

Are women fully human? Do they have souls? What do women want? Far greater men than the host of The Matt Walsh Show — Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, Sigmund Freud — have tried and failed to answer these questions (they could always have asked an actual woman, but first they’d have had to establish whether women can think, and then they’d have been back to square one).

As Matt himself says at the start of his film, “I like to make sense of things. Making sense of females is a whole other matter”, noting that “even astrophysicist Stephen Hawking” was “completely dumbfounded by women”.

Even astrophysicist Stephen Hawking! Honestly, ladies, if the author of A Brief History of Time hasn’t a clue what the hell we are, what hope do any of us have?

The thankless nature of the task may be why the twenty-first century version of The Woman Question has now been allocated to those somewhat lower down the male intellect hierarchy: Edinburgh fringe comedians, disgraced MPs, right-wing shock jocks, Owen Jones and Billy Bragg.

The proposal that a woman is anyone who defines themselves as a woman — and that no woman may say anyone isn’t a woman — has led to a particularly unimpressive stage of the debate, one which can only be described as the Summa Theologica meets incels r us.

On the bright side, it’s clear the men are bloody loving it. If you’re left-wing, it’s your chance to put those TERFs in their place after years of having to “do feminism” as part of the right-side-of-history package deal. If you’re right-wing, it’s your opportunity to own all those feminists who suggested female bodies weren’t inferior and that pink, fluffy ladybrains were a myth. As Walsh declares of his film, “the movie makes utter fools of educated elite liberals”. I’m guessing that’s the point.

I confess to having known very little about Matt Walsh up till now. “I’m a husband, I’m a father of four, I host a talk show, I give speeches, I write books,” he tells us by way of introduction. Hey, that sounds nice! Alas, a quick perusal of his twitter account shows that he’s the kind of renaissance man who tweets things like “feminism is an ugly and bitter ideology” and “rapists love abortion. It helps them cover up their crime”.

He’s also the kind of man who, should feminists show themselves to insufficiently appreciative of his recent woman-defining efforts, tells us we would “rather be a victim than win the fight” and that we “just want to sit on the sidelines and whine”. He’s been, like, getting death threats due to his challenge to contemporary gender mores! Would you risk that, eh, feminists? What’s anyone ever done to you, JK Rowling, you massive coward?

I first wrote about the problematic nature of a gender identity-based definition of women over eight years ago. Other women, such as Julie Bindel, were sounding the alarm far earlier, and with little support. I know we’re supposed to be eternally grateful to Matt for stepping into the breach. What a gent! As the Onion once put it, Man Finally Put In Charge of Struggling Feminist Movement (admittedly it’s a man who thinks feminism is an ugly and bitter ideology but hey, we can’t have everything).

In any case, I gave in and watched Matt’s film, just on the off-chance I’d missed something (more fool me; I read Gender Trouble on that basis, and look where that’s got me). There was little in What is a woman? that I didn’t already know from the work of feminists themselves, but that’s no reason to discount it. What’s wrong with alerting the normies to the excesses of trans activism too?

Walsh never acknowledges the role his own rigid beliefs play

Perhaps the most difficult thing about conveying the absurdities of extreme trans activism to anyone who hasn’t yet encountered it, is that you either sound as though you’re making it up (usually in order to “stoke moral panic”) or the person to whom you’re talking concludes you must have missed some essential point (it would indeed be horrific if teenage girls were having their breasts removed due to social contagion and “progressive” institutions were cheering it on, therefore it can’t be happening. There must be something else afoot).

One of the great things about Walsh’s film is that he shows, first, that harmful things are indeed taking place, and second, that there is no hidden meaning behind them. The therapists, surgeons, academics and politicians to whom he speaks don’t suddenly pull back the curtain and reveal, yes, this is the reason why it isn’t total bollocks to claim that no one really knows what sex anyone is. That moment never comes (and believe me, I’d have loved it if it had. Being a Known TERF is a pain in the arse).

Instead they say things like “a chicken has an assigned gender” and that the word truth is “condescending and rude”. Ha! Aren’t liberals ridiculous? At one point Matt interviews someone who identifies as a wolf (or some other animal. I got bored and went to the kitchen for a biscuit at that point). What’s striking is that you sense his interviewees know on some level that they’re bullshitting. That’s why a number of them end the interview early, citing Walsh’s alleged bad faith as the reason why.

There are some genuinely moving sections to the film, such as the interviews with female athletes cheated out of prizes by the inclusion of males in the girls’ categories. The contribution from Scott Newgent, a trans man deeply concerned about the impact of medical transition on young females, was incredibly engaging. I could have watched a whole film on Newgent alone, as someone clearly driven by both personal trauma and compassion for others.

So why, overall, did the film leave a bad taste? Am I just an “ugly and bitter” feminist, peeved that a man has come along and claimed a number of feminist observations as his own? Am I a purist, unwilling to accept any support from anyone whose views don’t align precisely with mine?

I don’t think so. The problem for me is that Walsh never acknowledges the role his own rigid beliefs play in creating and perpetuating the current situation.

He finds countless people convinced that the only way to avoid imposing harmful social norms on individuals on the basis of their sexed bodies, is to pretend we can’t define said bodies or impute any social meaning to them at all. Yet he does nothing to suggest one shouldn’t impose said norms, or that his own pink/blue fantasies of girlhood and boyhood might be leading those who don’t conform to feel they are somehow “wrong”.

“Give my son a BB gun and that’s just about all the emotional support he needs,” he muses over a children’s party scene, all boys in blue jeans, all girls pink princesses. “My daughter on the other hand … I’ve heard people say that there are no differences between male and female. Those people are idiots.”

Hmm. I have three children, all biologically male, all of whom have played with dolls houses and worn dresses. Two of them have Frozen-style long blonde hair and I’ve never bought any of them a toy gun (nor have any of them asked for one).

Women are caught between two forms of misogyny

According to Walsh’s own gender ideology, I’m on the slippery slope towards the erasure of any stable definition of “male” and “female” at all. This is the mirror image of the absurdities of trans activism. Both Walsh and the people he interviews conflate sex difference denialism with the rejection of gender stereotypes. He thinks we should suffer the stereotypes; they think we should suffer the surgery. Feminists believe we shouldn’t suffer either.

There’s a particularly grim scene where Walsh attends a Women’s March, and delights in harassing female protestors who don’t want to give a precise definition of the word “woman”. Much as this reticence frustrates me, too, I know where it comes from. The polarised politics of the day has told these women they must choose between denying their sex and accepting an anti-choice, conservative vision of what it means to be an adult human female. It’s a vision Matt Walsh shares.

These women are caught between two forms of misogyny but to Walsh, it’s all “own the libs” fun and games. This man is not on our side, nor will he win over the women he lazily misrepresents as not knowing what’s good for them.

At the end of the film, Matt returns home from his gender odyssey to his waiting Penelope. She is, of course, in the kitchen, and happens to be struggling with a pickle jar.

“What is a woman?” he asks her.

“An adult human female — who needs help opening this!” she responds. Got it, ladies? He’ll defend our right to exist as a sex class, as long as we can all agree it’s the weaker one.

In the end, I’m just so fed up with the machismo. Last year I spoke to one of the founders of Woman’s Place UK, who told me sex-based rights will ultimately be defended best by those in it for “the victory, not the glory”. The people, mainly women, often lesbians and women of colour, who do the dull, behind the scenes work of compiling data and challenging unfair practices one by one. The people who aren’t seeking to reimpose other, equally oppressive beliefs about sex and gender.

It may be that What is a Woman? helps, by showing some still on the fence that the problem is real. Others, it may push in the other direction. Either way, women themselves won’t be thanked for their own hard work and significant risks.

After all, that’s just what being a woman is.

#What Is a Woman?#what is a woman #matt walsh #gender ideology #transactivism #trans #transgender #mansplaining #Victoria Smith #only men are qualified to decide what a woman is #misogyny

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alucarddear · 2 years

Text

Peach Wine (3/?)

The witch escapes from her betrothal and ends up at Alucard’s castle. One mix-up with her potions later… she finds herself caged by the dhampir who’s unwilling to let her go.

Note: Apologies for the wait! He finally drinks the spiked wine lol. Lack of dialogue this portion, just a lot of doing and inner thoughts. I don’t want to post such long portions so I had to break these apart. Til next time.

| Previous part |

Stuck in the drab castle with very little to do and unable to venture outside without risk of being discovered—or worse, killed—the witch finds that she, after all, cannot keep her simple promise to Alucard.

Despite his order that she makes herself scarce, she finds that he doesn’t exactly enforce it. He doesn’t send her away whenever she walks into the same room as him, and he doesn’t snarl at her when she attempts to make light conversation.

Alucard doesn’t smile, and he barely even talks. When he does, he’s to the point. Sometimes, the words he chooses are uncouth too, as if he wants to hurt her on purpose or keep her from getting close. “What will it take for you to stop your incessant staring?” He’d asked her once over stale bread for dinner, face twisted in an unkind frown. But, truly, she’s heard worse. Compared to her fiancé’s scathing remarks, the dhampir’s condescension is almost lovely. Despite his cold countenance, somehow, he sounds almost …soft to her sometimes, as if his standoffish attitude is forced. As if underneath all the layer of frost hides a man who is kind. After all, he at least had it in him to provide her shelter from the night creatures and the bitter cold of winter. He could have left her to die passed out in the ruins. Or worse, drained her of her blood, killed her himself, but he didn’t.

He’s rather restrained around her. Something about him feels almost as forlorn as his castle; as if he's craving company yet pushes it away. It’s as though he’s got so much to say, so much to give, but keeps it all locked up inside him. Or she may very well be overthinking it and overestimating him and he’s just as monstrous as the next vampire. Either way, it appears that some company would do him good, of that she is sure. His social skills aren’t exactly the greatest. But he is also increasingly wary of her presence nowadays, which, in turn, worries her about her own safety.

The way he checked on her wounds at first seemed perfectly normal, but nowadays, it’s with impatience. As if he cannot wait for her to be healed, to send her away.

She still needs to disappear from the rest of the world. She cannot be sent away from his castle just yet. She needs him.

So she perseveres.

Every day, she helps with preparing food a little more in the kitchen. She dusts off his books, cleans his barely used cupboards, and folds linen without being prompted. Every morning and sometimes in the evenings, she makes him a cup of tea like clockwork, without his asking, and precisely the way she learnt he likes it—if only to hear him murmur his thank yous and you shouldn’t haves, so that she may respond with a “So, what are you doing today?” or “What will you be doing tomorrow?” and receive, hopefully, something more than a hum or an excuse.

Hours spent in the castle then grew into days and then into weeks. Before they know it, it has already been two months since he’d taken her in. With a lot of coaxing from the shrewd witch, the gloomy castle’s two occupants have managed to settle into a comfortable routine of sorts. Alucard is still a little guarded whenever she asks one too many questions, but for the most part, he has been cordial. He’s even begun smiling a little, though he often drops it rather quickly.

Today they are in his study, perusing thick volumes of medical texts. Earlier in the afternoon, he’d let slip that his mother used to own them, but he’d ignored her questions as to her whereabouts, so she’d promptly dropped it and quietly read along with him.

Flipping through one of his medical textbooks, she finally finds the page on care guidelines for deep wounds that he'd been looking for, and she realises that he’s at it again—looking for ways to heal her faster, to send her away. With quiet dread, she promptly closes the book and returns it in his shelf, feigning disinterest, as if she hadn’t found anything special. She makes sure to bury it away.

She really did not want to go that far, but it seems now that she might need to make use of her grandma’s potion. She’d never once needed it before, but the wise witch had told her to keep it with her at all times, for emergency. It was one of the few things she brought with her in her little satchel when she ran away.

Apparently, the potion will soften anyone who finds her despicable. In a pinch, it can make her life easier for her, even save her. She’s quite sure that her grandma had formulated it to protect her from humans without magic who might suspect and oust her for witchcraft. It should produce a pacifying effect, make her likeable enough for her cover to last, until she’s presumed dead. Until she is free.

So she sneaks it into the dhampir's peach wine, that very same night. She watches him gulp it all down, comment on how dry the wine is—“It might be a good idea to stop the yeast from consuming all the sugar next time. Perhaps a sweeter batch,”—and nothing. Nothing else.

She watches him like a hawk. For any minute changes at all, but he behaves as he usually does—quiet, introspective, calm.

Everything seems fine.

| Next part |

#alucard #castlevania #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard x reader #alucarddear writes #alucard fanfic #alucarddear: peach wine #adrian tepes x reader

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mickules · 2 years

Text

Fair warning folks there are 129 fics so strap in, this is a long one. Enter the readmore at your own risk...

As promised, here is a list of allllll the fics that were submitted to me, so on perusal keep in mind this is a non-curated list;

Reader discrection is strongly advised!

Please check ratings, summaries and tags, be aware there could very well be explicit material as well as whole series spoilers All info/summaries were taken directly from the fics themselves.

Legend: | G | General audiences | T | Teen and up | M | Mature | E | Explicit, Adult material

| full name/full name | Romantic relationships | ⚣ | MLM | ⚤ | M/F | ⚢ | WLW | ⚧ | transgender, gender neutral/nonbinary or gender unspecified ¦ name & name | Platonic relationships

| ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ rape/non-con ⚠ underage ⚠ | a03 Umbrella warnings for potential sensitive material; check tags for amounts and specifics

|❗ a03 warnings not used | Author chose not to use a03 umbrella warnings - please note, this doesn’t guarantee the fic has no adult material - check the tags

So without futher ado-

Danganronpa - All Media Types

🌟 "One Personal Favour" ChasML

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312015/chapters/16607506 | M | ✓ (18/18) 519,037 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚤ Kuwata Leon/Maizono Sayaka ⚤ Celestia Ludenberg/Yamada Hifumi ⚤ Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto ⚤ Kenshiro/Oogami Sakura ¦ Kiyotaka & Class 78, Chihiro & Mondo | ⚠ underage ⚠ | "This voucher entitles the bearer to One Personal Favour from Kiyotaka Ishimaru". It's a cheap present to give his new classmates, but it's the best he can afford. The last thing he expects is for any of them to actually USE it! Let alone for some of the odd things they come up with..."

🌟 "Yasuhiro Hagakure Bakes A Cake" soyutakethemoon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28099353 | T | ✓ (4/4) 4,547 | ⚣ Hagakure Yasuhiro/Oowada Daiya ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada ¦ Yasuhiro & Mondo, Yasuhiro & Kiyotaka, Daiya & Mondo, Kiyotaka & Daiya | Yasuhiro fucks Mondo's brother and bakes a cake as an apology.

🌟 "From the Ashes" Arcawolf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370506?view_full_work=true | T | ✓ (101/101) 346,902 |⚤ Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko/Peko Pekoyama ♂ Naegi Makoto/Everyone ⚣ former Komaeda Nagito/Naegi Makoto ¦ Izuru & Makoto, Toko & Komaru, Komaru & Makoto | ❗ a03 warnings not used | How do you move forward when the world's ended? How do you pick up the pieces of a broken soul? A tree, once it crumbles to ash, will never again be a tree. (But sometimes, in the ashes, there is a seed. And with enough patience and enough care, Does it really matter if it doesn't grow into the exact same tree?) Sequel to The Lion's Den

🌟 "Major Malfunction" valethra

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033671/chapters/68676765 | T | 🛇 (3/?) 12,123 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | In which a lonely mechanic finds a strange, “broken“ machine that he can’t fix and everything changes.

🌟 "Akane Owari: Smile, Eat, Study, Fight, Love" WanderingOwari

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244923?view_full_work=true | T | 🛇 (51/?) 208,180 | ⚧♀ Fujisaki Chihiro/Owari Akane ⚤ Iruma Miu/Saihara Shuichi ⚢ Fukawa Toko/Naegi Komaru ⚤ Hinata Hajime/Mioda Ibuki ⚤ Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi (one sided) ⚤ Koizumi Mahiru/Gokuhara Gonta ⚤ Tsumuki Mikan/Oowada Mondo ⚤ Ikusaba Mukuro/Maizono Sayaka/Naegi Makoto | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Akane Owari has been scouted and given the opportunity to study at the amazing Hope's Peak Academy. Three years at an amazing school, around so many other talented boys and girls, away from her growing family unit and all of the problems THAT entails... A place where she can mingle with her peers, mix it up with the toughest and the strongest, engage in her own personal desires and wants, perhaps find love along the way...? Oh, and eating! Don't forget all of the eating she can finally indulge in! Oh, you better believe she's going to enjoy this~!

🌟 "Snowball" Notal_ent

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315769/chapters/71995176 | NO RATING | 🛇 (18/?) 34,393 | ⚣ Hinata Hajime/Tanaka Gundham ⚢ (minor) Sonia Nevermind/Owari Akane ¦ Hajime & Gundham, Sonia & Gundham, Hajime & Chiaki, Hajime & Sato | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Searching for something to break him out of his boring routine, Hinata stumbles onto a place that will change his school life more than he ever expected. Searching for a troublesome rabbit, Tanaka stumbles onto someone that will make his school life brighter than he ever imagined.

🌟 "Brotherly Love" AutisticDeku

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31154555 | G | ✓ (1/1) 2,075 | ⚤ Hagakure Hiroko/Ishimaru Takaaki ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Takaaki, Hiroko & Kiyotaka, Yasuhiro & Kiyotaka | Hiro catches Kiyotaka in the middle of a meltdown and does his best to help his favorite little brother out.

🌟 "Don't be a Hiro" CaffeinatedCopyeditor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322618 | M | ✓ (1/1) 24,350 | Aoi & Toko & Yasuhiro & Kyoko & Makoto & Byakuya, Aoi & Yasuhiro | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | With his memories back and his friends around him, Hagakure feels like his life is better than he ever expected it to be. And then, naturally, it all goes wrong. Captured and alone, Hiro may have to explore elements of his talent that he has always been afraid of.

🌟 "Assassin! Ishimaru Kiyotaka (OLD)" GlareAndGrowl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28530048 | M | 🛇 (17/20) 71,890 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Chihiro & Kiyotaka | "He stared at the tv screen, his mouth opened in a slight ‘o’ shape, his eyes wide. His face was inches away from the screen, feeling the buzz of electricity. He couldn’t believe it. His mind would simply not let him comprehend the facts presented in front of him. He had lost. He had lost, and he wasn’t prime minister. " Kiyotaka Ishimaru was crushed to learn he hadn't achieved his dream. But when life closes one door, it opens a horrible chasm beneath you instead. Kiyotaka had soon found himself training for the Japanese Secret services. After slowly rising to the top, he is tasked with his most difficult job yet. He has only one week to eliminate an enemy of the senate, feared gang leader, Mondo Owada. But what happens when Kiyotaka falls for the suave bad boy? will he risk his whole life's work for a delinquent who gives something nothing else can, Happiness?

🌟 "A Path Split in Two" GlareAndGrowl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34144579 | M | 🛇 (7/10) 46,292 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | He stared at the tv screen, his mouth hung open in a display of the absolute mind-numbing shock that clouded over his wide eyes. His face was inches away from the screen, feeling the buzz of electricity. Unseeing. He couldn’t believe it. His mind would simply not let him comprehend the facts presented in front of him. He had lost. Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the boy who had claimed since he could speak, from early childhood to not even three minutes ago, that he would become Japan’s, if not the world’s, greatest prime minister. A leader fit for the history books, one to be sung praises for years to come. Had failed. He had lost, and he wasn’t prime minister.

🌟 "A Surprise for Ishimaru" ChasML

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301938 | M | ✓ (1/1) 22,012 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Class 78 | Kiyotaka's birthday is the last day of the summer holidays, so the 78th class all come to his hometown for a surprise party in the park. But with his feelings towards Mondo beginning to show, Junko's attempts to ruin the day and his father's hatred of the biker, will Kiyotaka actually have a good time?

🌟 "Danganronpa Class Swap - Hope's Peak Academy" Heroman3003

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460863/chapters/53669035 | M | ✓ (46/46) 212,532 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Everyone knows the story of Hope's Peak Academy and killing game of class 78. How a class full of Ultimate students get trapped inside the walls of academy, and psychotic bear named Monokuma forces them to kill each other. Let's delve into this story then, and join its protagonist, Mahiru Koizumi, Ultimate Photographer and freshman of class 78, as she tries to survive the madness of the Killing School Life. Wait, what...? This story is focused on the killing game in an AU where classes 78 and 77b swap places.

🌟 "Danganronpa Class Swap 2 - Jabberwock Island" Heroman3003

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29341242/chapters/72067401 | M | 🛇 (32/?) 140,146 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Hope's Peak Academy... School that only invites Ultimate students of their fields and offers them the best chance at life. Except suddenly an entire class of Hope's Peak freshmen is whisked away to an unihabited island by a talking rabbit, telling them to make friends. Then a talking bear tells them that the only way to escape the island is to kill a classmate... Let's follow Mukuro Ikusaba and her class, as we see the struggles they face in the Killing Game of Jabberwock Island. Wait, what...? This story is a sequel to Danganronpa Class Swap - Hope's Peak Academy. It explores the other 'side' of the AU where classes 78 and 77b swap places.

🌟 "A Change in Variables: Teaser" Keroshroom

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31265384 | T | ✓ (1/1) 1,654 | Shuichi Saihara lifts his sleepy head off an old desk to an empty classroom, Hajime Hinata falls out of a locker with his head spinning, Makoto Naegi wakes up on a beach with a white-haired student looking down upon him. And all three know something is very wrong when a black and white bear shows up with an important announcement to make…

🌟 "A Change in Variables: Shuichi Saihara" Keroshroom

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31400066/chapters/77655071 | T | 🛇 (13/25) 50,097 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Shuichi was never that excited to start high school to begin with but why is there a stuffed bear that wants his new class to kill each other and why can't anyone leave the school? To top it all off he isn't even the only Ultimate Detective. Well, at least it should be easy to make friends when everyone is forced to live with one another, right?

🌟 "A Change in Variables: Makoto Naegi" Keroshroom

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31459565/chapters/77815514 | T | 🛇 (13/26) 72,796 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Makoto finds himself mixed into a field trip with class 77 but why is there a talking bunny as their teacher, where is the rest of his class, and why does he have a nagging feeling he's forgotten something extremely important...

🌟 "A Change in Variables: Hajime Hinata" Keroshroom

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31459718/chapters/77816009 | T | 🛇 (15/26) 85,750 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Hope's Peak Academy, to finally attend such a prestigious school had always been Hajime's dream, but why can't he remember his talent, why does the school building look like it's been abandoned for years, and why is there a monochrome bear and its five colorful minions forcing him and his classmates into a killing game!? If Monokuma doesn't drive him to insanity then maybe his new rowdy classmates might do it instead.

🌟 "Blue and Cream" shutupnerd

🌟 "Beyond Despair" Barely_Vibing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920275 | M | 🛇 (14/?) 119,447 |⚤ Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura ⚣ Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya ⚤ Kuwata Leon/Maizono Sayaka ⚢ Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenburg ⚢ Fukawa Toko/Naegi Komaru ¦ Makoto & Everyone, Aoi & Mondo | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | They thought it was over. Junko was dead, they had won. They didn't think there was anything else to be done. Up until they found the three blackened students. Alive. [Danganronpa rewrite/fix it] The six remaining students of Class 78 delve deeper into Hopes Peak than they thought were possible. What will they find and what will they have to face to truly solve the mystery that Junko left behind?

🌟 "Paper Tiger" adhdmondo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33148348 | T | ✓ (1/1) 17,159 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Chihiro & Mondo, Daiya & Mondo, Mondo & Takemichi | ⚠ major character death ⚠ | paper tiger noun one that is outwardly powerful or dangerous but inwardly weak or ineffectual --- There was blood on the floor. He stared at it blankly, eyes unable to focus through the static. A monotone buzzing hummed in his head, chasing away any thoughts that tried to break to the surface. Slowly, he gained more control over his limbs again, and he found that he was capable of raising his hands too. There was blood on his hands. That's weird, Mondo thought. He actually chuckled a little bit, and the sound that came from his own mouth startled him. He had forgotten that he could make sounds, that he could even do anything at all. That this was his place in the world, his reality, and he was a part of it. And he had an effect on it. How terrifying... He laughed again, and his eyes wandered further. There was blood on Chihiro Fujisaki. Reality crashed back into him like a truck.

🌟 "Blackened Skies" CSpratt, MrCynical

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089402 | M | 🛇 (29/?) 435,186 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Kaede Akamatsu was executed, and then she woke up. Trapped in the middle of the ocean and surrounded by murderers, friends and strangers alike, the Ultimate Pianist once again finds herself at the fickle mercy of Monokuma and his latest sadistic game: the blackened of killing games past must slay each other to survive. As the body count continues to climb and the line between friend and foe begins blurring beyond recognition, Kaede must search for the truth amidst an ocean of lies and blood.

🌟 "Operation Wikihow" Puckishpal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35696314/chapters/89005198 | T | ✓ (9/9) 20,757 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | But suddenly, like the clouds parted and angels sang, it appeared. The perfect advice, Taka was sure of it. He hastily clicked the article, the fastest he’s been all night, and read the contents hungrily. Yes… Yes! Taka pumped a fist in the air in pure joy, feeling his eyes water up with what could have been relief, but also could have been sleep deprivation. A solid, fool proof plan that would easily let Mondo know of his feelings. “How to Show a Guy You Like Him - wikihow”

🌟 "Detention Slips" PekoIsBaby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273691 | T | ✓ (1/1) 3,774 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Mondo Oowada | Mondo Owada didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend. He also didn't mean to be such a dumbass about it.

🌟 "Bugged Out" chichillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053799/chapters/74010474 | G | ✓ (1/1) 6,236 | Kiyotaka & Mondo, Gonta & Mondo | Gonta has worked out (with the aid of his classmates) a new way to help people better understand and empathize with bugs. The first test subjects? Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Mondo Owada.

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc 🌀 "Remember" PekoIsBaby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33871786 | G | ✓ (1/1) 11,305 | ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura | Sakura Ogami doesn't mean to get tied up in a story straight out of a folktale. She doesn't mean to meet a mythical creature, and she certainly doesn't mean to get so close to one. Still, she's here now. There's not a thing on Earth that can stop her from giving it her all.

🌀 "mr loverman" Gradiant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761699/chapters/70528143 | M | 🛇 (6/7) 47,755 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚣ Oowada Mondo/Yukimaru Takemichi ¦ Daiya & Mondo | ⚠ major character death ⚠ | “It doesn’t hurt anymore, because I found you, and you made me feel somethin’ I never felt before. Not for Yuki, not for Emi, just for you. But no matter who I feel for, no matter who I try and fuckin’ fail to love, I’m always too goddamn late to do a thing.”

🌀 "Cycle 0" PekoIsBaby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33592282 | T | ✓ (1/1) 12,425 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Kiyotaka Ishimaru woke up with his head on another boy's chest. Kiyotaka Ishimaru woke up with his head on another boy's chest. Kiyotaka Ishimaru woke up.

🌀 "A Fateful Encounter in the Park" TheWaterRogue

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32919394 | T | ✓ (1/1) 3,864 | Kiyotaka & Takaaki, Yasuhiro & Kiyotaka |❗a03 warnings not used | Hiro, being his eccentric self, drags Kiyotaka to the park, claiming that something incredible (mainly aliens) would occur that fated afternoon. Kiyotaka, of course, doesn't believe a word of it. Does he go anyway? Yes. But not willingly. However, as fate would have it, Taka does encounter someone quite interesting; someone quite familiar as well.

🌀 "Turns out there's no peace without you" Barely_Vibing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28109694 | T | ✓ (1/1) 14,215 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura ¦ Aoi & Mondo, Kiyotaka & Sakura | Part 2 Mondo feels a whole lot of emotions in one day and struggles with his steadily growing feelings for one certain moral compass. Poor boy needs a nap and a hug.

🌀 "Turned Out Fine" WoorEnergy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30579911 | T | ✓ (1/1) 5,108 | Kiyotaka & Mondo, Chihiro & Kiyotaka, Kiyotaka & Leon, Kiyotaka & Sakura, Aoi & Kiyotaka, Kiyotaka & Makoto | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Taka never went to a party; heck, he barely knew what having fun with a bunch of friends meant! Luckily, Leon, Chihiro and some other classmates throw a party for him at Mondo's dorm. However, as a particular topic is brought up, the evening doesn't go as anyone had planned.

🌀 "Follow the Rules or Get the boot!" GlareAndGrowl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440618/chapters/69693282?view_adult=true | M | ✓ (2/2) 9,669 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Kiyotaka Ishimaru has had just about enough of Mondo Owada’s undisciplined lifestyle, but his tipping point is reached when his uniform and shoes get completely ruined by Mondo’s recklessness! Mondo must be punished for this! >:(

🌀 "Puppy Love" Takalot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37699909/chapters/94116709 | T | 🛇 (1/?) 8,096 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Kiyotaka and Mondo stumble across a stray puppy one day and decide to adopt it. …. What more can I say? Cuteness and fluff enclosed. A collection of fics revolving around them caring for a small little white dog and navigating some troubles along the way.

🌀 "Royal Gardens" strawberrylemonaid1225

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37949623/chapters/94777033 | T | 🛇 (10/?) 69,027 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | At Hope's Peak Academy, a prince dressed in white and a knight dressed in black meet during a flurry of flowers and immediately clash, surely starting a war. Or, in realistic terms, Kiyotaka Ishimaru and Mondo Oowada meet and keep meeting despite their hatred for the other before soon realizing that they may just be more similar than they could have ever imagined. Perhaps, their kingdoms could even start a garden together.

🌀 "The Biker's Doll" ChibiBreeby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422277/chapters/16858450 | T | 🛇 (10/?) 18,357 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | The last time Mondo held a doll, it was back in first grade of elementary school, when one of his classmates accidentally put it in his backpack. The major difference between the doll he held back then to the one he was holding now was that he knew where the doll back then had come from, whereas he has no idea where he got the one that is currently in his hands.

🌀 "Artificial Surprises" LibraryoftheDead

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32643190 | T | ✓ (1/1) 2,514 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo, Chihiro & Mondo | Mondo learns that androids and car accidents don't mix.

🌀 "Changed" puckishpal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36014902/chapters/89778067 | T | ✓ (3/3) 15,747 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Ishida | ❗ a03 warnings not used | “I won’t ruin anythin’ for you. Just want to see what’s got my brother so uptight these days. This school must be worth fightin' for, since you're never home anymore.” Kiyondo tapped on the door frame with his finger. Taka turned his head towards him to study his face. He couldn't read anything in that bleak expression. "Dad, and mama, and me- Well, we're still the same. But you? You've changed a lot. I want to see why." Kiyotaka strived to live an honest life, even if his chaotic twin brother strived to ruin it. Why is Kiyondo so persistent on impersonating and derailing everything he's worked so hard for, anyway?

🌀 "Our Reunion, Unforseen" ThePolitestBumblebee

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35426851 | M | 🛇 (12/?) 118,762 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo, Kiyotaka & Sayaka | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Kiyotaka Ishimaru is alive. Seemingly against whatever fate had planned for him, he awakens with a second chance. And, despite all odds, Mondo has been granted the same opportunity. They all have. It's time to reunite, solve the surrounding mysteries of the killing game, and escape. Time to start again.

🌀 "A Normal Wednesday and a Narrowly-Avoided Disaster" bethfromflorida

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460320 | T | ✓ (1/1) 5,133 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | It was a simple class errand that absolutely should not have taken any more than fifteen minutes. But things go very bad, very fast-- and suddenly Kiyotaka is alone in the school's basement and dealing with the worst case scenario.

🌀 "Brothers and Braids" nikkiwrites (notgood23)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39831381 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,745 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Mondo does his daughter’s hair and has time to think (about his brother).

🌀 "The Problem with Perfection" DracotheDeathEatingCupcake

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30213810 | E | ✓ (31/31) 384,020 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo, Chihiro & Mondo, Chihiro & Kiyotaka, Aoi & Kiyotaka | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Perfection is not an option. It is a requirement. At least… that’s what Kiyotaka Ishimaru has always been taught, from the time he was old enough to be taught anything. Trying your best is not enough. You must do better; be better. There is no time for passivity or idle moments. You must always be moving, always be working; always be your best. Actually, no. Not your best. Better than your best. Absolute perfection.

🌀 "eight, thirty-one: dance" transishimaru

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310749 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,234 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | a bonus chapter to 'eight, thirty-one' with the two nerds dancing, written for Pride Month

🌀 "An Afterword to Some Freakiness" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233141 | G | ✓ (1/1) 6,111 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚤ Hagakure Hiroko/Ishimaru Takaaki ⚣ Hagakure Yasuhiro/Oowada Daiya ¦ Takaaki & Mondo, Kiyotaka & Takaaki | Mondo and Takaaki aren't themselves today.

🌀 "The trick to seducing" TammieSheep

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34263757 | M | 🛇 (14/?) 44,312 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | After an ill intended prank, Kiyotaka finds himself stuck with a demon that is determined to have sex with him. It isn’t easy, as Kiyotaka feels no connection to the demon whatsoever but the incubus, Mondo, is determined to seduce him. After all, who could resist a tall, handsome incubus? Surely, his penchant for screaming whenever frustrated could never ruin a thing! Their duel of willpower will surely take long before one of them quits… if they ever do.

🌀 "Danganronpa: Safety's On" LizLuvsCupcakes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32630632/chapters/80944699 | T | ✓ (18/18) 58,855 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚧♂ Fujisaki Chihiro/Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Monokuma & Everyone, Leon & Sayaka, Leon & Makoto, Kyoko & Leon | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Fifteen teenagers are kidnapped into a despair high school and told the only way they can leave is to kill each other. The only problem? They’re told this by a teddy bear. Who’s really stinking adorable. And also bad at his job.

🌀 "when we all fall asleep, where do we go?" tirggerhappyhope (starprise_entership)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25445908 | M | ✓ (1/1) 16,292 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Chihiro & Mondo | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Deep within the mastermind's lair, Mondo hears the voice of the person he least wanted to see again.

🌀 "Ishimondo One Shots" AdeyKirbs

https://www.wattpad.com/1050737999-ishimondo-one-shots-rainy-day | M | 🛇 (9/?) Ihr51min | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | I know there's tons of ishimondo one shots but I feel like people should write what they want to matter how many times it's been done to death. If it makes you happy then make 20 ishimondo books! Fluff and smut

🌀 "Mystic Comfort" bearsub

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31611074 | G | ✓ (1/1) 2,888 | Hagakure Yasuhiro & Ishimaru Kiyotaka | He'd made it through their first year without any issue, but when their second year started Kiyotaka put more and more pressure on himself to do well and follow the path he'd chosen so long ago. He had to become Prime Minister and clear his family's name, he'd sworn to do so, but… now, he just didn't know. - Kiyotaka has a breakdown over school, but his brother knows just what he needs- no predictions necessary.

🌀 "We Have It All" Midnightdemonht

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29004177 | T | ✓ (1/1) 5,476 | ⚤ Kuwata Leon/Maizono Sayaka ¦ Junko & Mukuro, Junko & Makoto, Class 78 & Junko | ❗ a03 warnings not used | The bear is gleeful, thrilled, to tell them they’ll have to kill each other to escape. They are shocked, horrified, disbelieving. “We would never!” they cry, “Who could do that? None of them hear the sharp exhale, almost a laugh, coming from the supposed Junko Enoshima. As if there’s an inside joke only she is privy to.

🌀 "Love Letter Bouquet" gr3m5quid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39354645/chapters/98487834 | T | 🛇 (1/?) 911 | ⚢ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Leon & Mondo, Toko & Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Momoka struggled with love. All the guys she asked out got scared of her and she didn't even want to try with a girl. So she decided she would just give up on it, she had the gang. That was all she needed. Then, on White Day, a short love letter and a flower fell out of her locker. She considered that it could be a joke, that it could be someone trying to mess with her. But she really wanted to see for herself

🌀 "pale pink things" Somethin_Strange

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38573625/chapters/96421488 | T | 🛇 (13/?) 36,764 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo, Everyone & Everyone | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Right before it did, Taka turned to the front, finding Mondo’s eyes, and smiled. Really, truly smiled; pouring every emotion he didn’t have a name for into one facial expression of love. Fractured milliseconds of neurons firing and velocity through air; Taka packed everything he never got the chance to say into those moments he knew would be his last. Mondo, he thought, I love/forgive/feel/understand you. This is not a goodbye. Mondo was screaming Taka’s name, loud enough for his voice to crack and then completely break. Taka’s smile grew a little bit in the milliseconds he had. It is simply a “see you later”. He closed his eyes. (a story in which Monokuma is more lenient with the rules and executions don't always succeed at killing their target.)

🌀 "A Series of Ishimondo Oneshots" chinateacup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32381734/chapters/80281213 | M | ✓ (6/6) 22,438 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo | ⚠ major character death ⚠ | ❗ a03 warnings not used | In celebration of Ishimondo Week 2021, hosted by @perfect-ishimondo-boys on tumblr, I've used their prompts to write a collection of oneshots. As of writing this on July 5th, I have six prompts all ready to publish, so hopefully by the end of the week, which is July 11th, I'll have my last one finished. These prompts were all completely randomized and I had so much fun writing them.

🌀 "DR Chatfic where Mondo is a dumbass and Taka can swear" TheWaterRogue

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29582868/chapters/72709917 | T | 🛇 (22/?) 43,073 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura ⚣ Kuwata Leon/Naegi Makoto | My take on a DR chatfic. Will be THH-centric. Let the hall monitor say fuck.

🌀 "Another Side: Sporting Hopefuls" BoydTheReaver, Leliel12

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947264/chapters/37188674 | M | 🛇 (29/44) 281,443 | ⚣ Kuwata Leon/Naegi Makoto ⚧♀ Fujisaki Chihiro/Celestia Ludenburg | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ underage ⚠ major character death ⚠ rape/non-con ⚠ | A single sentence at the right time can change everything. When Jin Kirigiri spits one last personal aside at the Mastermind of the Killing Game, it gives her enough pause for thought that a few last-minute rules changes and sequences of events are established - and with that, a vastly different School Life of Mutual Killing. When Makoto Naegi awakens to discover fourteen other students trapped with him, what will become of them all when a sadistic robotic bear tells them to kill each other... especially after getting on surprisingly good terms with a certain red-headed baseball star? ~ A reimagining from the ground-up of Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc with the same characters, but in a different fashion from what you'd expect.

🌀 "Morning Mishap" Pieceofship

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435212 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,051 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | “I panicked!” “What did you have to panic about!?” Mondo felt the familiar beet red coloured blush return to his face. “To make a long story short... I either traumatized your dad or made his day.”

🌀 "I Need a Hiro" CaffeinatedCopyeditor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28893540/chapters/70882878 | T | ✓ (7/7) 16,640 | Aoi & Toko & Yasuhiro & Kyoko & Makoto & Byakuya | As the ultimate Clairvoyant, Hiro gets visions. Somehow, that's not the weirdest thing about him. He's still trying to deal with his lost memories, the trauma of the game, and the destruction Junko left behind. Through past and future, one well-meaning idiot tries to keep it together long enough to protect his friends. (A Hiro-centric, family-bonding, happily-ever-after fic)

🌀 "Atantic Despair - Trigger Happy Havoc Pirate AU" woesofwestly

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35284615/chapters/87935545 | T | 🛇 (8/?) 37,326 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura | Mondo Owada is the captain of a small crew called the Diamonds, a powerful set of pirates able to steal anything they want. They steal a large gem known as the Grip of The Ocean, a colourful and valuable gem worth thousands. But before they can sell it off, the British Superpowers intercept and force the Diamonds to run. Along the way, the Diamonds discover that the Grip is actually half of a much larger gem. Now armed with a renewed greed and a British castaway (who is quite disgruntled to be there), the Diamonds set off to find the other half.

🌀 "Romance and Rebellion" chinateacup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875342/chapters/70833930 | T | ✓ (2/2) 19,202 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Kiyotaka Ishimaru had never broken a single rule in his life. However by the end of one night, he could truthfully say that he had climbed out of a window, ridden a motorcycle with no helmet, participated in underage drinking and lost hours of his valuable study time with very little resistance. His kyoudai could be irritatingly persuasive when he wanted to be...

🌀 "Cigarettes Are Love Letters in the Eyes of Addicts" GlareAndGrowl

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3024786 | T | 🛇 (1/?) 3,422 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Mondo Owada, brother to the leader of the Crazy Diamonds, and feared by most, has only one enemy. A pretentious Hall Monitor who won't leave him alone. But when he is forced to work with the guy, he finds out that maybe he judged him a bit too harshly at first.

🌀 "Assassination stories! Kiyotaka Ishimaru" GlareAndGrowl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30677015 | M | 🛇 (1/?) 564 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Short side stories prequels to Assassin! Kiyotaka Ishimaru

🌀 "One Mistake" GlareAndGrowl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33389632/chapters/82933576 | T | ✓ (6/6) 30,235 | ⚧♂ Fujisaki Chihiro/Ishimaru Kiyotaka ⚧♂ Fujisaki Chihiro/Kuwata Leon ¦ Chihiro & Kiyotaka | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Kiyotaka Ishimaru; level-headed, strong, quick-witted, morally balanced, independent, trustworthy. All of these things could be used in any context to describe him. But romantic was not one of them. Yet somehow, he had found himself in a deadly love triangle between a hot headed prick and the soft eyed, soft spoken Chihiro. Both of them dragging him down a path of distraction from his desire of becoming the worlds greatest prime minister. Hijinks and heartbreak ensues... and everything goes horribly wrong.

🌀 "The Last Dance, Forevermore" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558137 | M | ✓ (1/1) 1,148 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Mondo Owada finds himself in an ironic hell in which he is forced to perform perhaps the most mentally demanding and stereotypically feminine sport possible: ballet.

🌀 "Close Encounters of the Absurd Kind" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30459741 | G | ✓ (1/1) 3,021 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | In which maybe Mondo should have invested in some bug spray. Or, that one Ishimondo fic prompt that's like "Taka is an alien that learns languages through kissing and his ship crashes near Mondo's place" but Taka is a weird bug monster.

🌀 "Bittersweet and Strange, Finding You Can Change" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431074/chapters/67054606 | G | ✓ (11/11) 28,334 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | A prince, a bear, a curse, a beast. A tale as old as time, albeit a bit twisted. And Kiyotaka somehow ends up tangled in the middle of it, when all he wanted in the world was to study in peace and keep his father safe.

🌀 "Practice makes Perfect" chinateacup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35082748 | M | ✓ (1/1) 7,337 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | “If you think that would help me understand the appeal, then I’m willing to try. And it would certainly make me more at ease if my first kiss was you, bro. I trust you implicitly.” Yeah, but he was also a guy. And a friend. Guy friends didn’t tend to go around kissing their guy friends, even if it was for uh… ‘business’ instead of pleasure. But… if Taka was cool with it then… Mondo didn’t exactly hate the idea. In which Taka does not understand kissing, and Mondo offers him a helping hand.

🌀 "When You Are Gone..." Cynder360 (Cynder_Charmander)

🌀 "Class 78th Watches the Future" Spirit_Soldier

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39093591/chapters/97796631 | T | 🛇 (81/?) 455,111 | ⚤ Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto ⚤ Maizono Sayaka/Naegi Makoto ⚤ Ikusaba Mukuro/Naegi Makoto ⚤ Asahina Aoi/Naegi Makoto ⚤ Celestia Ludenburg/Naegi Makoto | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | We know the story. Class 78th loses their memories, and were forced into the killing game. Only a few of them survive the game. But what happens when those sixteen students, their memories of each other intact, watch the Danganronpa series? What happens if they see their future selves killing each other? Watch, as Class 78th watches their future.

🌀 "Luckless, Lonely Lit Girl" YoungMrKusuma

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906091 | T | ✓ (1/1) 2,797 | ⚤ Fukawa Toko/Naegi Makoto | Fukawa gets a chance at happiness, from the last person she'd expect.

🌀 "Mad Dog" kokeshidynamo (hannyachan)

🌀 "Moth to the Flame part 1" DragonousSenses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40556112 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,013 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Late one night Ishimaru has an accident and sets things into motion.

🌀 "Moth to the Flame part 2" DragonousSenses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40556163 | G | ✓ (1/1) 903 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | The accident has unexpected side effects and Ishimaru finds himself depending on Mondo to undo it.

🌀 "Liar" PekoIsBaby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31845124 | T | ✓ (1/1) 23,952 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | When Leon had invited Mondo on the trip, it had sounded fine. Even he wasn't immune to a two-week-long, all-expenses-paid-by-the-rich-asshole-in-your-class, group road trip with three of his closest friends. It didn't even matter that Kiyotaka Ishimaru was coming. Until it was just Taka that was coming. Then, it stopped sounding so fun. Or: The inherent homoeroticism of being stuck with your sworn rival for two weeks and listening to him talk about museums.

🌀 "From one Liar to Another" Midnightdemonht

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32243209 | G | ✓ (1/1) 12,993 | Celestia & Yasuhiro, Yasuhiro & Makoto, Celestia & Makoto | Celeste does not care much for any of her ‘classmates’. Some are too loud, yelling about friendship and order or something equally irritating, others are too strange, eager to please, like that red headed idiot or that pig of a writer. But most of all-- They’re all so boring. And yet. To her surprise, there is one exception. Yasuhiro Hagakure.

🌀 "Danganronpa: a second chance" Yannocchi

https://www.wattpad.com/1014727073-danganronpa-second-chance-english-in-correction | M | 🛇 (13/?) 3hrs30mins | Kiyotaka Ishimaru received a note, instructing him to head to the equipment room at 6 am. However, it was a trap set up to kill him. What would've ended in Kiyotaka's death, actually ended with him waking up in a familiar classroom. Kiyotaka must change the outcome and save his fellow classmates as the killing game begins once again.

🌀 'May I please have something goofy for KiyondoxLeon please?' FluffyFranny

https://fluffyfranny.tumblr.com/post/689046479681323008/may-i-please-have-something-goofy-for-kiyondo-x | G | ✓ (1/1) 12,055 | ⚣ Ishida Kiyondo/Kuwata Leon | ‘It's goofy you want, and it's goofy you shall get >:3'

🌀 "Fractured Diamond" HawklanTheBard

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29584506 | NO RATING | ✓ (6/6) 11,099 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Chihiro & Kiyotaka & Mondo | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ rape/non-con ⚠ underage ⚠ | A diamond cannot be broken. Everyone knows that. But what happens when someone sees a crack in it?

🌀 "Broken Arrow" EmieFaun

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005581 | M | 🛇 (16/?) 100,476 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka(Ishida Kiyondo)/Oowada Mondo, ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Kuwata Leon ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo, Kiyotaka & Leon | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ underage ⚠ | Kiyotaka Ishimaru follows the rules. He attends Hope's Peak Academy to become the man that his family need him to be. But Mondo Oowada brings out a side that he just can't control. And for as long as he can remember, he's had this reoccurring dream. He's had this anger inside him. He's had this...other side that he has to shut out... Kiyotaka Ishimaru follows the rules. Most days. And he's attending Hope's Peak Academy to figure out how to be the man he's supposed to be.

🌀 "Gradual Revelation" Gembrosia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34458142 | M | ✓ (1/1) 11,303 | ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura | It was in that moment that the puzzle pieces in Sakura’s mind had finally come together. She was in love with her best friend. Her only friend. The path she had taken to reach that conclusion was long, but once it struck her it seemed the most obvious thing in the world.

🌀 "Jealousy" chinateacup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390547/chapters/72202083 | T | 🛇 (24/?) 137,541 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo, Chihiro & Mondo, Aoi & Kiyotaka | Mondo Owada had a girlfriend. She was perfectly nice, and pretty, and it was obvious how well the new couple were already clicking. They made a very good match indeed, and any friend of Mondo's would have been thrilled for him. So why did Taka feel like he wanted to cry?

🌀 "To Bite the Hand that Feeds you" chinateacup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34767937 | T | ✓ (1/1) 2,665 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Kiyotaka & Mondo | Taka's stomach growled, and he curled his lip in irritation, pressing a hand to his side. He snuck a glance at Fujisaki, but they hadn’t looked up from their computer. Thank God. Taka must have felt the rumble more than he heard it. How embarrassing… He turned away from Fujisaki, looked back down at his geometry, and then noticed the rice ball placed beside him on the table.

🌀 "The (After) Life of the Party" Metamatronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33061843/chapters/82069954 | M | 🛇 (16/?) 22,627 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura ⚤ Kuwata Leon/Maizono Sayaka | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Sayaka Maizono had a promising life ahead of her. An adoring fanbase, a family in her band, and the ability to do what she loved. But life doesn’t always go to plan, huh? Sometimes life doesn’t go anywhere at all. After being murdered by the man she had planned to kill herself, Sayaka finds herself wandering the halls of Hope’s Peak as a ghost. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like she’ll be alone for long.

🌀 "Sleeping Bosozoku" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29067981/chapters/71350776 | T | ✓ (9/9) 22,548 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ¦ Yasuhiro & Leon & Mondo, Chihiro & Mondo, Daiya & Mondo | Prince Mondo Owada is cursed by a cold-hearted warlock to die at the age of 16 by pricking his finger on the splinter of a butter churn. However, thanks to his brother's persuasion and the graces of a good fairy, his sure execution is muddled. He will face his destiny not in death, but ageless sleep, only to wake from his slumber by true love's kiss.

🌀 "If Memory Serves" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34943080 | T | ✓ (1/1) 3,974 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Mondo Owada forgot something. That wasn't just a sneaking suspicion or a side effect of his anxiety disorder; if that was the case, he would be, well, anxious. Contrarily, Mondo was both certain that he forgot something and wasn't really worried about it, aside from the general curiosity of what it could have been. This was because his lovely partner had guided him through the entire process of forgetting it. Or, some fluffy and goofy Ishimondo memory play where they go out on a day-long date.

🌀 "The Strength of Heart" Gembrosia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39033537 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,400 | ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Aoi finds Sakura overworking herself in the gym and reminds her that she’s here now and she can talk to her about anything. Sakura shares her feelings as they chat over some tea.

🌀 "What We Could Have Been" GauntletKnight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486138/chapters/35949891 | E | ✓ (55/55) 81,463 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | If they had survived the killing game, Kiyotaka and Mondo probably would have ended up living together and, eventually, would have fallen in love. This is how that future might have played out.

🌀 "What We Could Have Been Bonus Chapters!" GauntletKnight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958853/chapters/39853902 | M | 🛇 (4/?) 5,596 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Bonus chapters to What We Could Have Been. Little side stories and requests as well as some behind-the-scenes stuff. All one shots. Content warnings will be in notes at the beginning.

🌀 "What You Should Have Been" GauntletKnight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19087915/chapters/45348478 | E | ✓ (28/28) 40,910 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Kiyotaka Ishimaru's dream, as long as he remembers, was to become Prime Minister, wipe away his family debt, and bring honor back to his family name. Easier said than done. But first he needs to be elected to the House. This is how that future might have played out. (Sequel to What We Could Have Been)

🌀 "Hunger" GauntletKnight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34862215 | E | ✓ (1/1) 14,175 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Kiyotaka is cursed to become an incubus, throwing all of his morals and personal desires out the window. With some help he realizes that the only way to satiate his hunger for sex is with the one he loves the most...his best friend...his first crush...Mondo. He elects to keep it a secret, starving until Gundham can find the one responsible, but Mondo's concern for his best friend's 'illness' ends up being stronger than Kiyotaka's desire to stay hidden...

🌀 "I'm so Glad I Got to Meet You" Gembrosia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33001966 | T | 🛇 (9/?) 12,026 | ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura | Two girls who feel out of place find solace in each other.

🌀 "D.I.A.F" YoungMrKusuma

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170873 | T | ✓ (1/1) 1,829 | ⚤ Fukawa Toko/Naegi Makoto | Partially inspired by this post on tumblr: http://kouristar.tumblr.com/post/86966582355 Just a little drabble I thought up. Naegi takes Fukawa out on a coffee shop date, where she makes known her opinions about PDAs and other things.

🌀 "A Police Man with Three Ultimates as Kids? And All I've Got is a Stoned Clairvoyant!" MysteriousDoll

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40924116 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,435 | ⚤ Hagakure Hiroko/Ishimaru Takaaki | Hiroko meets Takaaki’s kids. Hilarity ensues.

🌀 "The Eyes Have It" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962245 | G | ✓ (1/1) 2,632 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Kiyotaka notices Mondo is anxious once again, and decides to take matters into his own hands.

🌀 "The Amethyst Incident" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30903473 | G | ✓ (1/1) 3,990 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | In which Kiyotaka Ishimaru accidentally hypnotizes himself instead of his boyfriend like he intended to, and Mondo doesn't realize. Elaboration on an incident mentioned in another Ishimondo hypnosis fic of mine, "The Eyes Have It." You don't need to read it to understand this, but if you like this you'll probably enjoy that too.

🌀 "Fantasy Maid Real" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32521492 | E | ✓ (1/1) 8,200 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Kiyotaka Ishimaru has come to the realization after hypnotizing his partner several times that he has a hypnosis kink. Thankfully, Mondo is extremely indulgent... and looks great in a maid dress.

🌀 "Savor Every Little Piece" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35581729 | E | ✓ (1/1) 3,075 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Mondo has a shitty self-esteem day topped with dysphoria for good measure, so Taka cheers him up... with kinky hypnotic foreplay, of course.

🌀 "Pampering Your Panic Prince" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37761253 | T | ✓ (1/1) 5,032| ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | It's election night, and aspiring politician Kiyotaka Ishimaru is nervous beyond belief. Mondo decides to cash in a favor and try something out that will make for a nice distraction and hopefully make them both happy: wholesome hypnotic petplay.

🌀 "Crisscrossing the Edge" chinchillasinunison

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38354089 | E | ✓ (1/1) 3,075 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo | Kiyotaka challenges Mondo to a contest: go into maid subspace and serve him in any way Taka pleases for the night. If he doesn't climax from it, he'll get a prize. Mondo accepts the terms, and plans to win. What he doesn't know consciously is that the rules upon him are a bit more complicated than that... in that he already agreed to lose, and that he would actually do both, depending on your point of view. These sorts of things can be muddled a little when hypnosis is involved...

Super Danganronpa 2 ⚡ "pinned like a note in a hospital gown" lesbiankyoin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36328375 | T | ✓ (1/1) 2,908 | ⚤ Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko/Nanami Chiaki ¦ Chiaki & Mikan | Unusually for Chiaki, she can't get herself to sleep. Maybe the reason's inside the island hospital.

⚡ "Safe and Sound" Keeganisadork

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36137959 | G | ✓ (1/1) 1,828 | ⚤ Komaeda Nagito/Nanami Chiaki | Nagito has a pain day and Chiaki cares for him

⚡ "Keeping up with the reserve course" Hella_Queer

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811978/chapters/73345467 | T | 🛇 (60/?) 106,938 |⚣ Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito | Miles Edgeworth: We don’t even know his name, yet he’s turned us inside out. His very existence has captivated us so completely. How remarkable for a reserve course student (Was in the mood for something a little ridiculous. Check the end notes for the name cheat sheet!)

⚡ "i can't take you anywhere" dimolto

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646001/chapters/70218204 | M | ✓ (11/11) 68,923 | ⚣ Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito | “One more word and I’m going to drive us both off a cliff,” Hinata deadpanned. “Well, I would probably survive it. Ultimate Lucky Student and all.” Komaeda tilted his head. “But if you really do want to kill me, I’m sure we can find a way to make it happen!” On the way back from the third-year class trip to Hokkaido, the bus happened to leave two students behind: a tag-along Reserve Course boy who, as always, wasn’t quite sure how he kept getting himself into these situations, and an enigmatic young man who was beginning to feel very, very cheated by his luck. Now, if Hajime Hinata wants to get back to Tokyo, he’s going to have to face a hotwired car, 900 miles of open road, and ten days stuck with Nagito Komaeda.

⚡ "Smile for a Smile" chivalrousamour

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191643/chapters/18777781 | G | ✓ (90/90) 314,185 | ⚤ Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko/Tsumiki Mikan ⚢ Past Enoshima Junko/Tsumiki Mikan ⚢ Nanami Chiaki/Pekoyama Peko ⚢ Mioda Ibuki/Saionji Hiyoko ⚤ Hinata Hajime/Koizumi Mahiru/Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko | Tsumiki Mikan lived to save others. Her heart never faltered in the line of duty, and to be honest, she would feel more comfortable in a hospital room than her own wedding. But unfortunately for her, there's an exception to everything, and this exception is a baby-faced heir to the biggest Yakuza family in Japan!

New Danganronpa V3 ☄️ "An Encore from my Crying Heart ♡" kirastrations

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654621?view_full_work=true | T | 🛇 (34/55) 292,311 | ⚤ Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi ⚤ Iruma Miu/K1-B0 ⚢ Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko ⚤ Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito ¦ name & name | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | “Puhuhu. I see how it is...” Monokuma brings his paws to his two-toned mouth. “The blackened has no need for the First Blood Perk. They’d rather do a class tri—” “It was me.” Kaede’s blood chills. Words leave her, and her heart falls silent. Monokuma blinks. “Huh?” He along with the Monokubs, Kaede, and her classmates, all turn to the voice. “Sh-Shuichi...?!” whispers Kaede. “What are you—" “It was me,” Shuichi says again, shifting on the spot. “I did it. I uh... I killed Rantaro...” The library is silent for a few moments. Then all hell breaks loose. Shuichi claims the First Blood Perk in Kaede's place, and in doing so, changes the entire course of the Killing Game. Different choices are made, new dynamics form, and, as per the rules, only two survivors can emerge from the world stained red with reality, and pink with delusion.

☄️ "High on our Bullshit" Firestar506, Multishipping_Trash, PangosTango

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28611867?view_full_work=true | T | ✓ (32/32) 176,529 | ⚤ Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi ⚤ Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito ⚢ Akamatsu Kaede/Chabashira Tenko ⚢ Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko (one sided) ⚤ Iruma Miu/K1-B0 ⚣ Amami Rantaro/Hoshi Ryoma ⚣ Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi ⚤ Amami Rantaro/Hoshi Ryoma/Yonaga Angie | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Kokichi, troublemaking gremlin that he is, finds this brilliant little chat function on his Monopad. And uses it to create a group chat for the 16 trapped Ultimates. Oh dear.

☄️ "To Fall or Fly" RainstormRiddles

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36195976/chapters/90227254 | T | 🛇 (7/?) 31,134 | ⚤ Hoshi Ryoma/Tojo Kirumi |⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | A Fallen Angel takes mercy on an unusual Demon, giving her the chance to do good in her life. And, perhaps, she'll give new meaning to his.

☄️ "(Lemon) Dance Into My Heart" theultimatefanficwriter

https://theultimatefanficwriter.tumblr.com/post/630982361826394112/lemondance-into-my-heart-ryoma-hoshi-x-reader | E | ✓ (1/1) 8,091 | ⚤ Ryoma Hoshi/Reader | ⚠ mention of sexual assault ⚠ vague suicidal tendencies ⚠ | Commission by Itaintbondagedotcom on Wattpad

☄️ "Escapism" grayimperia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824194 | T | ✓ (1/1) 2,782 | Saihara Shuuichi & Shirogane Tsumugi | ⚠ major character death ⚠ | “Shooting star,” Shirogane says. “Make a wish.” “I wish I was someone else.” “Yeah,” she leans against him, bumping their shoulders together in a gesture far too affectionate for their despair. “Me, too.” - Kaede dies, and Saihara makes a different friend.

☄️ "you've got the right to remain right here with me" unseeliekey

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425690/chapters/56145169 | T | ✓ (5/5) 63,512 | ⚣ Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi ¦ Kokichi & DICE | Shuichi Saihara looks around the coffee shop, and as Kokichi shrinks back and tries to make himself look as unnoticable as possible, his gaze drifts to the pink jacket and his eyes light up. And perhaps crime really doesn’t pay, and karma is real and stealing from the rich is wrong and deserves punishment, because Shuichi Saihara walks right up to Kokichi’s table and, nervous in a way Kokichi has never seen him, says, “H-hey. Um, are you Ouma? Who wanted to look at the house?” “That’s me,” Kokichi says, a little breathlessly, feeling like he’s detached from his body. (Or, the phantom thief/roommate au you didn't know you needed.)

☄️ "I'd Trade My Life for Yours" grayimperia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10517349/chapters/23213121 | T | ✓ (42/42) 397,683 | ⚣ Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi ⚤ Iruma Miu/K1-B0 ⚢ Akamatsu Kaede/Chabashira Tenko ¦ Kaeda & Kaito, Gonta & Ryoma, Maki & Kaito & Kokichi, Kaede & Kokichi, Tenko & Himiko | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Her classmates have just chosen Saihara as the killer by a margin of one. He finally reaches out to her, and she looks back at him. And Monokuma says something that absolutely shocks both of them to the core. “Welp! Looks like you guys got it right!” Kaede’s world stops. - Three different sacrifices are made, and three different survivors stumble out of the rubble.

☄️ "the art of playing the game" khattikeri

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274163/chapters/48058729 | T | ✓ (10/10) 31,325 | ⚣ Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi | “Do be careful, now, Inspector,” Prince Kokichi whispered into Shuichi’s ear, a serious, low tenor. “I’ve taken a liking to you, so I’m giving you a warning. Saishu Kingdom has never been as peaceful as you thought it was, and it’s for your own good that you stop investigating the rumored coup set to keep me off the throne.” He paused. “Unless, of course,” he grinned slyly, “you want to get caught up in it.”And then he skipped away, all smiles and airheaded cheer. Shuichi’s hand unconsciously reached up to touch his ear, now tinged pink. What was wrong with this royal?

☄️ "13 Students Remain" whattheskyknows

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31503632/chapters/77931344 | M | 🛇 (31/?) 460,823 | ⚣ Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi ⚤ Akamatsu Kaede/Amami Rantaro ¦ Kaede & Tsumugi, Kaede & Tenko, Ryoma & Kokichi, Ryoma & Kaito, K1-B0 & Kokichi, Tenko & Kokichi, Tenko & Kaito, Tenko & Ryoma, Miu & K1-B0 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Kaede Akamatsu wakes up inside of a classroom alone. (Time loop AU where the only way to leave the game is to survive.)

Ultra Despair Girls 📢"Remembrance" MoodyMisora

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32690578 | T | ✓ (1/1) 3,255 | ⚤ Ishimaru Takaaki/Okamoto Natsuko ¦ Takaaki & Takemichi, Kiyotaka & Takaaki | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | Takaaki Ishimaru was no stranger to the pain of loss. First came his birthright, then his beloved wife, and finally, his cherished son. Bereaved and alone, Takaaki has only a silver bullet to offer him a release from the ruins of this world.

📢"Remnant" tea0W0stache

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37710235/chapters/94144537 | M | 🛇 (1/?) 2,730 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚧♂ Fujisaki Chihiro/Kuwata Leon/Oowada Mondo ⚤ Hagakure Hiroko/Ishimaru Takaaki ⚢ Asahina Aoi/Oogami Sakura ⚤ Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto ¦ Daiya & Mondo | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | The world was a total shit show. Robots on nearly every corner, children running around with bear helmets, killing any adult they saw. Corpses piled on top of one another, and the children even danced on them. Pure and utter chaos. So naturally, here I am, fighting with a cop.

Danganronpa Crossovers ✨ "My Real Test" ChasML

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864497/chapters/24131154 | M | 🛇 (79/?) 431,064 | Kiyotaka & Mondo, Kiyotaka & Class 78 | Every year, Hope's Peak Pokemon Training Academy recruits the most promising upcoming pokemon trainers and gathers them together in one place, to encourage their development as trainers. This year's intake includes one Kiyotaka Ishimaru, who's eager for the chance to get some serious training done! How else would he be able to show the world that the Ishimaru family won't ALL resort to machine-enhanced pokemon to beat the Elite Four, like his grandfather did? [pokémon crossover]

✨"Dangantale" Creatornottraitor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35549440/chapters/88622272 [undertale crossover] | T | 🛇 (2/?) 1,951 | ⚣ Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo ⚣ Kuwata Leon/Ishida Kiyondo ⚤ Fujisaki Taichi/Hagakure Hiroko/Ishimaru Takaaki ⚢ Celestia Ludenburg/Sonia Nevermind | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | MKJHCGFXDZXGHJHLJIGUFYDTRSDYFUIOPJYILT&UDJYRTFUIOP)YOITDJYRUO

✨"A Very 'Chill' Production" yaysof11037

https://yaysof11037.tumblr.com/post/659816538239582208/a-very-chill-production [Be More Chill crossover] | G | ✓ (1/1) 2,294 | ⚣ Oowada Mondo/Nekomaru Nidai | Hi everyone! My brain keeps hopping back into the musical theater mood and I’ve been listening to a soundtrack that I just can’t get out of my head! Plus, it’s been a small little headcanon of mine for a while that Mondo would be a theater kid (as well as Taka lol) and it’s been sitting in the back of my head for quite some time, but I was having a hard time thinking about what his first show would be. But I think I’ve found the perfect musical that would fit Mondo’s first performance on stage really well! So, without further ado, I present to you some Theater Kid Mondo content!

✨"DanganRonpa69: There's MORE goddamn hope!?" lennardd

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604029 [Supermario - Family Guy - Vocaloid - UTAU - Undertale - PaRappa the Rapper - My Little Pony - Warioware - Yandere Simulator - Gorillaz - Spongebob - Kirby: Right back at ya! - A Hat in Time crossover] | M | ✓ (18/18) 153,067 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | After waking up in a mysterious school, Luigi is forced into a killing game with a bunch of weird strangers by a sadistic bear with a despair fetish. Who will survive? Who will perish? And more importantly, will God forgive me for this?

✨"plants rot eventually" stonedsmokes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36916300 [Dear Evan Hansen - Be More Chill - Hamilton - Heathers: The Musical crossover] | M | ✓ (1/1) 8,672 | ⚣ Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy ⚣ Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell ¦ Alana &E Evan & Jared & Zoe, Hamilton & Laurens & Lafayette & Mulligan | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | He traps fifteen students in a large theatre and pushes the guilty thoughts out of his head. Now is not the time for that. Instead of the Ultimate Despair, he takes on the role of Ultimate Botanist. Plants were one of the few things he allowed himself to indulge in. It was one of the things he cared about. Evan used to care about a multitude of things, but once he picked up Despair, it felt like he lost a whole half of himself. He wishes he could take that half back. (in which evan hansen is the mastermind of a mutual killing game)

✨"Your Turn To Danganronpa" AuthorDGaster

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36585007 [Your Turn to Die crossover] | T | 🛇 (8/?) 15,911 | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ major character death ⚠ | 3 Killing Games. 18 Chapters. 20 Victims. 20 people who died at the hands of a participant of the Killing Games. 20 Victims who have been given another chance, but not in a Killing Game. This time, it’s a Death Game, where nobody knows when it’ll be Your Turn To Die!

Ace Attorney (Gyakuten Saiban) 💥"Custody" garbage_dono

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662775 | M | ✓ (26/26) 100,549 | ⚣ Klavier Gavin/Apollo Justice ⚣ Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright ⚤ Clay Terran/Kay Faraday ⚤ Dick Gumshoe/Maggey Bird ¦ Trucy & Apollo | Apollo has gone a whole lifetime without knowing a thing about his parents. For 25 years, it's never been a problem, until suddenly it is. After reaching out to Ema, he meets private investigator Kay Faraday, who prides herself on being able to find anyone and anything, no matter how well hidden. Without anything more than an old family heirloom and a few names that Apollo is surprised he can still remember after so long, she sets out to answer every one of his questions. It doesn't help that they're multiplying by the minute.

💥"selected conversations from the magisteel discord server" lowbatteryhealth

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578288 | T | ✓ (1/1) 34,231 | ⚣ Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright ⚢ Maya Fey/Franziska von Karma ¦ Maya & Miles | A comedy of errors, ft. Discord shenanigans, friendship, gay pining and more!! aka. Miles Edgeworth and Maya Fey co-run a Steel Samurai/Evil Magistrate discord server; neither knows who the other is. What happens next will shock you!!

💥"Awkward Business" hechima

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31647902/chapters/78321002 | T | 🛇 (3/5) 32,969 | ⚣ Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright | ❗ a03 warnings not used | "It is always awkward doing business with an alias" - The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle Kay and Lang are working undercover to retrieve a set of stolen weapons plans from a major international gang. They eventually track the plans down to LA and, while trying to steal the plans back, run into Nick, another person working undercover who is after the same plans. Nick claims to be a defense attorney who needs the plans for a client but Kay and Lang aren't entirely sure what to make of him. Kay/Lang and Phoenix all go undercover at the same place and run into each other without knowing who the other is. Hijinks ensue.

💥"The Complete Turnabout" BrownieFox

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30182721/chapters/74365845 | G | ✓ (35/35) 91,236 | ⚣ Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright ¦ Trucy & Phoenix, Franziska & Phoenix, Gumshoe & Phoenix, Klavier & Phoenix, Trucy & Iris, Mia & Maya, Maya & Edgeworth, Edgeworth & Raymond |⚠ major character death ⚠ | A decision is changed, a bullet goes more to the left, a stone creates ripples on the water’s surface, altering everything around it. Phoenix Wright pulls himself out of a lake and into a world where he wears a prosecutor badge. Now, he must figure out a way home and how to keep those he loves safe, even if they don’t love him in this strange inverted world.

Pokémon Black & White / Pokémon Legends Arceus

🧿"Downtime (Emmet of the Diamond)" joyseer24

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38845236/chapters/97137546 | G | 🛇 (4/?) 15,342 | Ingo disappeared one day. Emmet knew this. He also knew his brother was alive. He knew Ingo was taken. Emmet was there to see what took his brother. And Emmet will find Ingo, no matter what, where, or even when he has to go through. Or Emmet makes his way to Hisui, gets adopted into the Diamond Clan, and searches for Ingo.

🧿"There's a way back home" pyritegirl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39334659/chapters/98437062 | G | 🛇 (19/19) 40,945 | Ingo & Akari, Emmet & Akari, Emmet & Ingo, Elesa & Ingo, Elesa & Emmet, Elesa & Akari | ⚠ graphic depictions of violence ⚠ | Akari and Ingo fall from the sky into the icelands, at the will of Arceus.

🧿"Wrong Track: Ingo Edition" FluffyFranny

https://fluffyfranny.tumblr.com/post/690355766933209089/wrong-track-ingo-edition | G | ✓ (1/1) 4,053 | ♂⚧ Ingo/gender-neutral!Reader| Despite being the mellow fellow that is your partner, he has his moments… and one does more harm than intended-

🧿"Standard Operating Procedures" layren, pointvee

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38522701/chapters/96284098 | T | ✓ (6/6) 60,301 | Emmet & Ingo, Elesa & Emmet & Ingo | Ingo is gone. Emmet tries to hold it all together by playing both parts. Like most things, it doesn't proceed as planned.

🧿"Detours" BrownieFox

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37275400/chapters/93005053 | G | 🛇 (33/?) 117,648 | Akari & Rei, Akari & Ingo, Emmet & Elesa, Emmet & Ingo, Ingo & Rei | Sometimes, good things do happen, and you do get to go home. And sometimes, bad things happen, and you end up far far far from home. Or Ingo and Dawn fall back into the future - and so does Rei.

Five Nights at Freddy’s

☀️"Solar Lunacy" BamSara

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37158622/chapters/92703043 | M | 🛇 (7/?) 79,256 | ⚧ Sun/Reader ⚧ Moon/Reader ⚧ Moon/Sun/Reader ¦ Glamrock Freddy & Reader, Glamrock Chica & Reader, Montgomery Gator & Reader, Roxanne Wolf & Reader | ❗ a03 warnings not used | You weren't a technician, you weren't a security guard, you weren't a daycare assistant. You're just an employee. Staff. The ‘jack-of-all-trades’ employee with mediocre at best skills and specialty in none, tasked with doing miscellaneous jobs that robots couldn't do and human staff couldn't care to. The job is unpredictable, but it pays good and it's relatively easy. Except for the part where all the animatronics are more sentient than you thought, and you're roped into a mystery surrounding the Daycare Attendants, who are bit too curious about you for your liking. You don't think this was in your employee contact.

South Park

☕"Mostly You Just Make Me Mad" WardsbackPoet

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39037140/chapters/97648359 | NO RATING | 🛇 (89/?) 287,958 | ⚣ Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak | ❗ a03 warnings not used | Craig Tucker had often hoped someone even remotely interesting might one day show up in South Park. When an erratic oddball strolls into his life one day, Craig can’t help but think the eccentric blonde is not at all what he’d had in mind. It seems the Universe is infinite in its capacity to mess with him. Still, there’s something captivating about the little weirdo that makes Craig want to see him suffer.

et fini

#fanfic recs #fanfic #danganronpa #THH #sDR2 #nDRV3 #UDG #Ace attorney #pokemon b&w #pokemon arceus #danganronpa crossover #fnaf #south park #those last two I know nothing about #long post #I mean the LONGEST #geniune thanks to everyone who submitted a fic #happy readin!#if there are any mistakes I apologise but I am but one man

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knightfeared · 6 months

Text

Q: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 . RULES ( … ) List the things your muse carries in their pockets or bags in their everyday life. ( optional … explain their significance. ) repost, don’t reblog.

GIFTED STONE. / BRACELET. ◈ Jayce will never be seen without his trademark bracelet clasped around his wrist. Eventually, he designs a few new ways he can safely wear it, especially when he departs to go into another fight head on. His wrist, as much as he's grown accustomed to having it there, isn't the best place when people know his hands, the things he uses to hold onto his weapon, are. He's learned his lesson when someone tried to take a swing at his wrist to disarm him once, so he switches it out to a small pendant carrier tucked safely under his body armour. Poor decision, possibly, but he'd rather it be safe, then risk it shattering.

LEATHER TOOL ROLL. / REPAIR KIT. ◈ Ever the repairman & tinkerer, Jayce will also never not have a small leather roll of portable tools on hand. Granted he usually spends most of his time inside his labs or forge anyways, it feels strange to not have them in his hands in some way, just in case something comes up. Usually, it contains wrenches, screwdrivers, spare gears or parts, pliers, & other interchangeable tools. Works well for him because of the compact size, & it's not too hefty or weighted.

JOURNAL. / LEATHER BOUND BOOK & PENS. ◈ His mind is always going, always thinking, & when he's out & about, new ideas could strike at random. A habit developed when he was young, he's grown used to carrying a small pocket journal around, tucked away neatly, but proudly decorated & customized with the symbol of his house - each one he carries, he makes sure to fill & organize ( despite the disorganized appearance, everything has a place to him, a system that works. ). They're well loved, torn pages, dog-eared edges, little notes & doodles jotted down & pieced in between his own ramblings. He uses them to keep his thoughts together, logged away to peruse at a later date.

COLLAPSABLE MERCURY “HAMMER”. ◈ A prototype — still a work in progress he's hammering out the roughened edges on. Overall, something he can carry with him on the go, much more lightweight & compact, but not nearly as powerful nor destructive as his original, more of a baton than anything at the moment. Development on it was started shortly after the attack on the council room, defense being the primary goal in mind as he worked on it's creation, a device he can use in a pinch if he's ever caught in another situation where he needs to fight or defend himself. It does have the ability to launch weakened but still damaging versions of the attacks his Mercury Hammer can, but they're again, not nearly as strong nor destructive. More meant to stun.

➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 [ : ] @hexcoremagician Thank you Darlin aaaa💕 ➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 [ : ] Anyone who’d like to nab this 💕

#╰┈➤ ┊❛ MISC. / DASHGAMES. ❜┊#MUSE: [ JAYCE TALIS. ]#Thrown together on a whim shhhhhhh #AAAAA

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 23 days

Text

Left you by the road with the crows in the dust...

Summary:

Lucien “Luci” Greco, you’re piece of shit ex, has come to NY looking for you. He's the reason you had to leave everything behind in the first place. Didn't stop him from searching for you though. The long lost mafia princess. He needs you if he is ever to rightfully take over the family from your father Declan. Little does he know you're doing mercenary work for the highest bidder. He still thinks you're some wilting damsel, a spoiled little princess. Your daddy didn't raise you that way though. You've been primed to take over since birth. Too bad he beat the shit out of you so badly you had to run for your safety. Somehow, even trying to stay under the radar you've befriended the damn Avengers family. A misfit mafia if you’ve ever seen one. You’re all after the same enemy afterall. Maybe, it's time to finally let someone or several someones in, so you can live life without constantly looking over your shoulder. Question is, do you even want the crown anymore?

Warnings: 18+ Only. Dark Themes ahead. Read at your own risk.

Angst and Fluff and Smut, Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Angst, Blood and Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse. Past Sexual Abuse, Past Relationship(s)Past Violence, Mafia Avengers, Mafia AU, Reader-Insert, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, Just a lot of dirty smut ok.

Notes:

Warning: This chapter gets pretty dark. Please heed the tags. Banner @cafekitsune Divider @firefly-graphics

“So…let me get this straight. My favorite little merc, with a body as deadly as the daggers she wields, and the mouth of a sailor, is secretly a mafia princess. Oh and not just any mafia princess. But the heir to the whole damn San Francisco Bay Empire. The only family around in the US that I even count as equal to my status.” Tony expresses as he pours himself a Scotch from the bar while you casually peruse the books lining the study walls.

“That about sums it up. I was trying to heal in peace and help my father, as well as myself, seek some revenge. I just so happen to have acquired a taste for blood and mayhem in my renewed life. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make some green while painting the town red.” You succinctly reply. “But, seeing as how my little secret is out, I guess I owe you some kind of explanation. The floor is all yours. Just for tonight, I will answer any questions you have as honestly as I am able to.”

“I’ve got one. Why?” Bucky swaggers into the study, looking very much the Winter Soldier he is known for being. “Why was he able to do such horrendous things to you and he is still breathing?”

“Aw. The million dollar question.” You nod your head. “It’s simple really. I was young and naive back then. I trusted a man that I grew up with who knew our lifestyle because he grew up in it as well. That Lucien is one smooth talking snake in the grass, I’ll tell you. He charmed the pants off of me literally. My father too. Treated me like a princess at first and then over time his true colors began to shine through as he started climbing the ranks within the family.”

You take a deep breath. “Everything I did was scrutinized down to the color of my pedicure. I was to be seen and never heard when my father was not around. A difference of opinion, no matter how small, earned me a back hand to the face at minimum.”

You shake your head, knocking lose the memories. “Goddess forbid I ever fought back. He’d just overpower me and leave me with marks as reminders to obey. He threatened to kill my father in his sleep more times than I could count knowing I would never play with that man’s life.”

You turn towards the three men leaning against the bar. “It got to a point where it was just easier to let him have his way while I thought of a way safely out of things. Unfortunately for me, the way I finally got away from him was far from safe.”

“And how exactly did you get away? I’m gonna need to know the story attached to that lovely little scar you have.” Tony chimes in.

“I’m gonna need a stiff drink before I dive into those sordid details.”

You approach the bar as Bucky places a glass of whiskey in your hand. You shoot it back and prepare yourself to relive the worst night of your life.

The bass is vibrating through the floor beneath you in the VIP section, as it fills the club. You watch from up above, the mass of gyrating bodies out for a good time. You wish you could be one of those lost souls right now, under the spell of liquor and sin. But alas, here you stand, amongst made men, as nothing more than something pretty to look at while your boyfriend conducts business. Your typical Saturday for the last two years, unfortunately.

Knowing the Boss's daughter will be in attendance when you have a meeting, makes things far easier for the young Capo trying to continue his trajectory through the ranks. Lucien didn't give a shit about anything other than his business. You were to be seen and not heard on these nights, anything else would result in lessons that left marks behind.

Tonight, you just didn't have it in you to play the part of the dutiful, sweet, mafia princess fiancee. Maybe there was something in the air, or you’ve had enough of his philandering antics and arrogant narcissism. No matter the cause, you were full of the ‘fuck it’s’ and it showed.

“She is very beautiful, Lucien. You are one lucky man to have landed such a catch. Tell me, is she worth all the hoopla? I imagine you have others to keep your kinks in check.” Nero, the pompous ass your fiance is meeting with, inquires.

Before Lucien can get a word out to most likely placate this low-life, you pipe up. “I’m right here asshole. And you’d do best to remember who you’re speaking of. I am far more than some trophy. You’d be blessed to have the chance to lick the dirt off my heels.”

Nero looks taken aback for a moment before a smile splits his face. “Feisty. I like em with some bite in em. My apologies. I’d be more than happy to rectify the situation privately. I’m sure Luci here wouldn’t mind.”

“In your wettest dreams Nero.” You say behind a saccharine sweet smile.

Quietly seething and tense, Lucien attempts to get this meeting back on track. “Sunshine.” He says through gritted teeth. “That’ll be all for now. Connor, take her down to the car. As soon as my meeting is finished, we will be heading home.”

His eyes narrow at you as a hand grips around your bicep and you're being pulled toward the back exit. Your eyes never leave his, until the door is firmly closed, removing him from your sight. Your actions will not go unpunished. Of this you are certain. But it is of no matter to you at this moment. It was worth it to put that scumbag in his place. Goddess knows Luci would not have.

Too anxious to sit still, you decide to pace along the car, while you wait in the garage for the meeting to conclude. Connor follows you with his eyes like a predator watching his prey. Your fiance’s right hand always gave you the creeps. He was the one person who knew first hand all the horrible things Lucien has done to you. He was often present for them and seemed to find some kind of sick joy out of your torment. He would be of no help, once Luci arrived.

Just as you were about to turn and start another trek around the car, the door to the garage from inside the club slams open. Out walks your fiance, looking anything but calm. He makes a beeline straight to where you had halted in your tracks.

“Lucie-” was the only word you were able to utter before his meaty hand was clamped around your throat, cutting off your air supply, as he slammed you into the passenger door.

“Oh no. You’ve run your mouth enough tonight Sunshine. Could have cost me a pretty penny too if I wasn’t the great business man that I am.” He only squeezes harder as your hands claw at his wrist.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen now. We’re gonna get into the car. Connor is gonna drive us home. Along the way I’m going to remind you of the only thing that mouth is good for. Then I’m going to do whatever I want with this sexy little body because I can.”

Your vision was getting blurry and just as you thought you might pass out, he releases you and throws you into the back of the car. Your lungs burn, trying to take in as much air as they can. He climbs in behind you and nods his head to Connor to head out.

Before you can really get your bearings, he entangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you over his turgid length, standing proud from his unzipped pants. “Open wide and relax your throat Sunshine. This is going to be rough.”

You’ve barely opened your mouth before your head is pulled down, taking him to the root, making you gag and tears form in your eyes. Your airflow is once again cut off as you choke on the dick lodged in your throat. That’s when he begins to bob your head along his length as he thrusts up each time he pulls you down. Saliva and tears are making a mess of your face as well as his lap.

But he just doesn’t care. This is your punishment for not being a step-ford princess tonight. You only deserve the breaths he allows you to take. Your head is throbbing from the death grip on your hair and the lack of oxygen being supplied to your brain. You’re trying your hardest to not pass out. You can only imagine what he’d do to your body if that happened with him in this state.

With a growl he pulls you off his lap and throws you back against the door so you're sprawled out along the bench. Trying to catch your breath you eyes follow his hand as it retrieves his Stiletto Switchblade from his slacks pocket and he flicks it open.

“It’s a shame I have to cut this off you. I really do love you in this dress.” He shifts his body in between your thighs and begins to cut your dress right up the middle. Leaning further over your body as he goes. A sadistic smile spreads across his face as he reaches the bottom of your ribs.

You have no idea what comes over you, but you can not let him get this dress off you. With a quickness you were unaware you had, you reach into his undone pants, grip his balls tightly, twist and pull down with all of your might, eliciting a shocked yell from your fiance.

“You fucking bitch! You really are stupid tonight. I warned you. Remember that.” With those final words he spins the blade in his hand and plunges it into your sternum. As you gaze down to the knife protruding from your chest you hear Lucien instruct Connor to pull over.

“I really wish you would have just behaved Sunshine.” As the car comes to a stop he exits the car. The door behind your head opens and arms are shoved under yours, pulling you out onto the dusty embankment. It must be Connor because Lucien is crouched above your semi prone form. “I’m gonna need my knife back baby. You understand.” He then proceeds to yank it out of your chest, wipe it off on his still open slacks and turn back to the car.

The next thing you know your rolling down a ditch until you land on your side, slowly bleeding out as you hear two car doors shut and the sound of the engine taking off and headlights leading away, leaving you in total darkness surrounded by the cold night air.

“What Lucien failed to remember that night; was the tracker in the locket that my father made me wear since I was little.” You stated. A little too calmly for someone who just told the story of their near death at the hands of their partner. “It not only tracks my coordinates but my health status as well. When my heart rate drops below a certain level it sends an SOS to my father along with my location.”

“So daddy came in to save the day.” Tony states.

You nod your head. “More or less. He showed up with my uncle Teddy and our most trusted medic. They took me to a safe house, equipped with a hospital grade exam room. I got patched up and rested for a couple days while my father played the part of a distraught parent searching for his lost child.”

You tap your fingers against your empty glass as Steve refills it for you. “Let me guess? Lucien acted as if he had no idea what happened to you. Playing his dutiful fiance role.”

“You would be correct, Captain. At least that’s what I heard in my isolation. Once I was healthy enough to travel my father made some calls and moved some money around. He set me up with the funds to head out and not come back until he was ready for me.” You downed your whiskey. “That’s how I ended up in New York. As far away as physically possible but close enough that when the time came I could end Lucien myself.”

“And the mercenary work?” Bucky inquired.

“Right.” You push your tongue into your cheek. “Honestly. I wanted to keep my skills sharp and form new ones. Why not do that while making some coins in the process. Win/Win in my book.” You shrug. “Plus what better way to slate my bloodlust.”

“Well you’ve definitely filled in some gaps for us with that information. Now we just need to figure out what we’re going to do about this Hydra situation.” Tony informs you all.

“I’m not going to be comfortable sending you home knowing that jackass is aware you’re alive and well now.” States the brunette enforcer.

“Aww. You worried about little ole me Wolfie?” You bite on the tip of your pointer finger.

“He’s not the only one, Doll.” Steve chimes in.

“I’d feel better having you here at the compound myself. Once Pep hears about what went down tonight and in the past, she’s not letting you leave.” Now it was Tony’s turn to express his concerns.

You let out a sigh. “Do I really have a choice in the matter?”

“I’d say you do but that would be a lie.” Steve answers for the group.

“Alright. Under one condition. My room needs to be able to accommodate not only me but Hades as well. Where I go, my hell-hound goes. No exceptions.”

“Deal.” Tony places his hand out for you to shake. You promptly do.

“Now about this Hydra business.” Your eyes light with mischief and mayhem. “I have some ideas.”

#poc reader #avengers x reader #avengers smut #mafia au

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galefcrce · 1 month

Note

( @starbvund from Strahd ) The Baron pondered the inquiry of his guest, deciding quickly on the mask of being cordial. "My library? You wish to avail yourself of it?" Strahd sat back higher in his chair than before. The full length of his dinner table between them. He had only partook of the wine on offer. None of the food. "I will allow your request, but what does a wizard of Waterdeep intend to offer me in turn for such generosity?"

@starbvund ¦ And here we have Gale making another mistake in the pursuit of knowledge

The journey to Barovia was not a simple one, but now, as he sat in the great halls surrounded by affluence and detailed architecture, Gale pondered the significance of his presence here. He left a note explaining in great detail of his planned trip to Barovia for those back home who may look for him. He didn't wish to leave anyone worrying about his disappearance.

He, too, had not touched his meal as of yet, with the appetite for knowledge suppressing his human need to eat. The goal of acquiring one particular book took precedence over all else; he wanted to gain the ability to cast Wish.

"Ah, the best thing I could offer anyone. My mind. I have acquired a wealth of knowledge of my own throughout my many adventures. I was once graced into the heavens as Mystra's Chosen and then held the weight of the Karsic Weave entirely in the palm of my hand. Now I come here with a trade, knowledge for knowledge, so to speak."

For the sake of manners, Gale mirrored the Baron by taking a sip of his own wine. A second followed once the delicious taste of expensive wine graced his palate, but no more. Downing the entire goblet before eating would be rude, and Gale was determined to be on his best behavior in order to gain access to the famed library.

"Well, that, or gold, but I have a feeling I have better luck offering the former."

He had hoped this would be a quick interaction, a few days to peruse the texts, discussions with the other wizard in the room about everything they both knew of the Weave. Perhaps if things went smoothly, he would leave Barovia with the knowledge of the spell and a new powerful acquaintance along with it.

But even if the diplomatic approach of being a guest for powerful wizard failed, Gale was not too worried. After all, he too was a very powerful wizard. To Gale, this was worth the risks.

#-gestures at Gale- bless this mess #͙͘͡★ rel. strahd #͙͘͡★ chapter. a wish and a mechanic #starbvund #q.

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bipbopdepmop · 6 months

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howdy

i'm anton. i am just a silly little guy who might be lurking in your walls at any given time. (/j)

pronouns: he/they. mostly he, but we silly as they too :3 this blog posts/reblogs MCYT. specifically hermitcraft and the life series. (there's some other stuff too but not nearly as frequent). also lots of memes n stuff i sometimes reblog hermittshipping / trafficshipping. beware. dni if proship or just. generally gross

we subscribe to the philosophy of (see below) here!

passive aggressive blinky by @/stiffyck <3

additional sideblogs:

@crookedgrifter <- homestuck sideblog. go read homestuck @/davejade-daily <- we draw/post homestuck jade harley/dave strider. i am a mod on this! note: it is kind of dead. oops. @/impulsesvdoodles <- i forgot to link this here. i run this as well. there's another blog that i have that im not linking here. if you see it in the wild, it is me! not a fake.

feel free to:

send an ask! standard be nice, don't send weird things, etc. spam like/reblog. go nuts, i'll see it and go wow, they had fun! i'm glad they liked that Thing so much. send art requests. will not draw nsfw/suggestive. will draw hermitcraft and/or life series! probably not ships though. = i don't really tag triggers, peruse at your own risk.

masterposts: alien cowboys au (silly au by @/stiffyck, @/bigb-enthusiast, and me!) link only works on desktop..

media filtering list: here so you can filter non-mcyt posts and/or spoilers for certain medias!

tags (that i never use) and more below the cut!

major tags! warning, my tagging system has fallen by the wayside

#reblog <- this tag is new. to find any reblogs from before nov 9 2023, search #rebop #my art <- this tag is new. to find my old art (anything before nov 9 2023) search #bipbop art #my writing <- i write. sometimes. #talk <- random posts, talking, whatever. this tag is new as of nov 9 2023. to find my old posts, search #bipbop rambles #asks <- ask tag. this tag is new. to find anything from before nov 9 2023, search #ask bipbop #liveblogging <- is what it says on the tin. sometimes stupid comments about the video i'm currently watching

tags i use mostly for myself!

I forget these all the time so this is staying here AKSJLALDJ

#for later <- things containing information i want to be able to dig up later #rotates in brain <- things that I love forever and want to be able to see again #art to scrutinize <- art for me to stare at later and try to figure out what's going on there in an attempt to study how to draw an stuff :D #videos of all time <- any sort of video or clip that I liked and wanna be able to find again. idk. #shenanigans <- for my frieeends yay!! #posts of all time <- famous tumblr posts or things that were funny

#my art #my writing #for later #talk #fic reblog #liveblogging #not mcyt #asks #rotates in brain #art to scrutinize #videos of all time #posts of all time #for alex #pinned post #shenanigans #<- for friends :D

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

The Lonely Souls Club 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: we're almost through the week.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

Bucky can smell her body soap as it wafts off her. Everything about her makes him giddy. Just walking beside her, getting to look at her, getting to talk to her!

And now, he’s taking her out to lunch. Almost like a real date.

He’s antsy to get to the restaurant. He tried to measure his patience as best he could as he fixed the lock. While she showered and dressed in the small bathroom, he paced her apartment, taking the chance to adjust a few of the cameras. Better, he can see the door.

He is mindful not to walk too fast for her. She seems to be moving a little better. If it’s the short nap she took or the shower, he’s not sure, but he’s happy for it.

She’s shy. He knows she’s often alone and keeps to herself but she sends him sheepish glances only to quickly look away each time their eyes meet. Her heart continues to race just as it did when she awoke to the intruder.

He steps ahead of her and opens the door of the noodle shop. She looks up and her eyes scan the sign then the windows. She lifts her cane in ahead of her as she steps through, “this place is good.”

He smiles. He hasn’t been back since the first time he saw her. Now he’s with her and he can hardly believe it. He follows her in as Mrs. Zhao greets them. She shows her surprise with a clap and a squeal.

“You brought a friend,” she muses.

“Uh, yeah,” he answers as the woman leans on her cane, stuck in limbo between them.

“Let me get you seated,” Zhao speaks to her and ushers her along as Bucky trails behind. They sit in a booth as menus await them and Mrs. Zhao bows before she leaves them.

She, his companion, his date, nestles her cane against the wall of the booth and her eyes flit around. She peeks at the menu then at him. She folds her hands in her lap, making no move to peruse the options further.

“You come here a lot? She knows you?” She glances towards the kitchen.

“Ah, yeah,” he answers with a nervous chuckle, “I don’t always have the energy to cook so…”

She nods and shifts on the seat. He sees how her cheek ticks and she grips the edge of the table to adjust her posture. He flutters his fingers over the laminated menu.

“Is it okay? Are you uncomfortable?” He leans forward.

“Fine,” she ekes out and brings her fingertips to the edge of the menu.

“Right, um, well, if you want a little padding you could sit on my jacket,” he offers.

Her lips curve softly and her brows raise, “that’s really nice but I’m okay.”

She looks down again at the menu. He sees how she chews her lip and slants her mouth. He knows exactly what she’s looking at. Not the dishes but the prices. It's a habit. He’s been there too. Pinching every penny, darning every sock and sleeve until it’s too frayed to mend, stretching broth with water, and washing with no soap. His bad days are over and he wants to help end hers too.

“How about we do the meal for two special,” he offers as he sees her fixate on the sides section. Three spring rolls isn’t going to stop the growling in her stomach that awoke the minute they stepped inside. “It’s a good deal. You can pick the type of noodle.”

“Oh, uh,” she taps her fingers, “I guess… if it makes sense.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he insists. He knows the portions are generous. They’ll get enough for her to take a box home, especially with the rolls and salad on the side. “Do you like Udon or chow mein?”

“I like both,” she says, “udon, maybe, if you like it.”

“Sounds good to me. Broth? I don’t really like the beef, it hurts my stomach.”

“Pork’s good,” she suggests, “if you want.”

“Sure,” he agrees, heartened that she didn’t push back on his idea. She needs a good meal, not half a cup of oatmeal with six raisins on top.

“Tea,” Mrs. Zhao interrupts, a tray in her hand. She sets it down, presenting a big slate gray pot and matching cups.

“Thanks,” he says as she echoes him in a small voice. He gives their order and Mrs. Zhao leaves them with a rosy smile, a definitive look sent from one to the other.

He pours tea into the cups and sets one in front of her. She looks at the contents then him. She thanks him and leans in to inhale the scent. Her stomach rumbles viciously and she winces.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” He asks, turning his own cup nervously.

“Um, since high school,” she answers, “so… a while. What about you?”

“Born and raised,” he says proudly. “Always happen to come back.”

She nods and blows across the tea but doesn’t drink as the steam puffs hotly. Her eyes flit over and her stomach grumbles again. She watches another table as they clink cutlery on their dishes. She’s fighting it but she’s starving.

“Uh, wow, didn’t even realise I’m so hungry,” he says, “I don’t even think I had dinner last night.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs and turns her eyes to the table, “and you didn’t get much sleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m a bit of an insomniac. Got a bit restless last night and good thing I did or I wouldn’t have been able to scare that guy off, huh,” he stills the cup and flicks his thumb around the curve of the rim.

“I guess,” she puts her hands to her neck and shivers, “that was really scary.”

“Well it’s a good thing I deal with scary people all the time,” he says, “lot of people say the same about me so I guess that helps.”

“Oh,” she bats her lashes and her eyes meet his, “I didn’t mean–”

“I know, I’m joking,” he assures her. She’s so jumpy, he wonders if that has anything to do with her limp. If maybe she’s afraid of everyone and everything for a reason. Well, she won’t have to be, not with him.

“Ah,” she forces a smile, “right.”

“Hey, you held your own,” he sits up straighter, “you swing that cane like a champ.”

“Yeah, ha,” she laughs, just a small one as he reaches for the tea cup again, “I… I hit that guy.”

He chuckles too, “you did. Honestly, I think after that, there’s no way he’ll be back.”

Her

You try to eat slowly and it doesn’t take much before you’re painfully full. You put the chopsticks down and take a napkin to wipe your mouth. Bucky smiles at you, a noodle hanging from his lips as he slurps it up.

“Sorry,” he covers his mouth, “caught me at a bad moment.”

“It’s good, I… I’m full,” you look at the noodles still left in your bowl.

“Oh, no worries, we’ll just ask for a container,” he says, “be good to have some leftovers in the fridge… just in case.”

“Uh, yeah,” you agree. You wonder if maybe he saw inside your empty fridge or he just means well.

“I’m getting there myself,” he stirs his bowl with his chopsticks.

She nods and he raises his hand as he sees Mrs. Zhao, the namesake for the restaurant, “excuse me, hi, sorry, whenever you have a chance.”

She acquiesces and rushes off. He sits back and smacks his stomach, “mm, did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s very good,” you agree.

Mrs. Zhao returns and offers the bill to Bucky. You look away, embarrassed.

“I forgot to mention, can you add a box of tea,” he hands it back.

She agrees and whisks off again. You sit in silence, awkwardly searching the restaurant. You would offer to pay for your own but you can’t. You’re dirt poor. You can’t help but think he knows it too. No one is that nice. It only takes one look around your place to see it.

Zhao returns once more, sets a box of tea before him and some containers, then the bill. He pays in cash and tells her to keep the change. She chimes thankfully and wishes you both a good day. You pour your noodles into the container and seal the lid. Bucky does the same.

You grab your cane and turn on the bench, dragging yourself across to plant it on the floor. You brace the table and stand as he does so much easier than you. He takes his container and yours, stacking them atop each other, then the tea on the very top.

“Oh, thanks,” you utter as you get your feet set.

“No problem,” he grins.

He waits for you to go first. You make a slow, uneven advance to the door. You keep your eyes straight as you refuse to notice the glances sent in your direction. The lucky cat by the door waves in farewell as you approach.

Bucky reaches past you and opens the door before you can. You limp out into the street. Your hip burns from the thin cushion of the booth bench.

“That was nice,” he says as he walks beside you, again patiently keeping pace with you.

“It was,” you agree, “it’s really kind of you.”

“You act like having lunch with a pretty girl is a chore,” he jokes.

You scoff, “please.”

“Please what,” he tilts his head.

Your chest pinches and your face heats up, “you’re just being nice.”

“No,” he argues, “I don’t lie.”

A sudden flash glares to your left and your toe catches in the sidewalk. You stagger and land on one knee, the pavement dinging the bony cap harshly as you catch yourself with a hand. Your cane clatters beside you as you look around in confusion.

“Hey, what the hell?” Bucky barks, his voice deeper and scarier than before. “Don’t do that.”

You glance over at a man with a large camera. He blanches from behind the lens but takes another photo. Bucky shifts as if he might lunge at the photographer and he runs off.

Bucky sighs and reaches to grab your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks in concern, his other arm hugging the containers.

“Yeah, I didn’t see him. I’m sorry, I must’ve stepped on a crack–”

“That jack– guy should be apologising,” he sneers, “so rude.”

“Yeah, I…” you hiss as you grab your cane. He holds onto you, helping you rise, but not too quickly, “I… why would he…” you peer over your shoulder then back to him, “are you famous?”

He huffs and shrugs, “I guess to some people.”

You furrow your brow and let your shoulders sink, “oh.”

“I don’t really think about it, you know? I got a job and I do it. All the attention, I hate it,” his hand slips down your arm and reluctantly falls away. You swallow and turn back down the sidewalk. He walks with you, quiet for a moment before he speaks again, “does that mean you don’t wanna be friends?”

You think as your cane taps between your footsteps, “I didn’t… No, I just…” you take a breath, “I’ve never known anyone famous.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he sighs.

“Yeah, seems like.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the lonely souls club #series #falcon and the winter soldier #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america

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joz-yyh · 11 months

Text

Rust - Ch. 6

SUMMARY: A “how they got together” and “where they are now” fic in which I detail how Damian and Tardif meet and consequently fall in love. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: EXPLICIT (for violence / sexual themes)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant / (Crusader x Highwayman -> established relationship) / (Grave Robber x Plague Doctor -> established relationship)

WORD COUNT: 7,493

READ ON AO3: Here

A/N: Very important note, but this chapter contains another FLASHBACK.

I’ve been meaning to explore other ships/characters while Damian and Tardif are off doing their own thing so that means I’ll be adding in the Reymas sidestory I previously posted as well as some cute Grave Robber x Plague Doctor content.

There will also be a FLASHFORWARD towards end where I tease upcoming events. I’ll be sure to mark this segment appropriately.

Reynauld drags Dismas out for some quality time and smutty hijinks ensure. Audrey tries to dig up dirt on Tardif and Damian’s relationship by inviting the flagellant out to the cove for some one-on-one girl talk. The bounty hunter returns, but it’s not the same way when he left.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

“Hmm,” Reynauld mutters, gauntlet-clad fingers curled under his helmet in reserved contemplation.

His blue eyes survey the capricious wares of the nomad wagon, gold and silver chains strung up in a row, display boxes of brooches and other acquired oddities arranged beneath.

Presented with such antiquities, Reynauld by no means claims to be as knowledgeable as Josephine, but over time, he’s picked up a few tricks of the trade, appraising each of the pieces laid out before him, weighing their rarity and purpose.

“Just pick something already,” comes Dismas’ insurgent groan, his words swiftly accompanied by an impatient upheaval of his arms into the otherwise peaceful air.

You’d think the knight was downright torturing him, but then again, the highwayman was especially weak to boredom.

“Perhaps, I’ll check back another time,” the knight says, addressing the demure fortune teller running the shop.

“Seriously,” Dismas asks, his arms an inverse of the gesture he made before, incensed fingers spread open in a hollow fist by his knees.

The swordsman unfurls from the wagon window, having been bent into an investigative hunch whilst he perused the counter.

He raises a speculative eyebrow at his companion, the look of Dismas’ dark eyes telling him that he was being an insufferable pain.

“You drag me all the way out here just to spend all that time window shopping and now you’re not even goin’ to buy anything,” Dismas surges, the vein in his forehead giving a poignant twitch of anger.

The Romani woman smirks, resting her chin on the splay of her ringed fingers as she watches the lovers bicker like an old married couple. This is by far the most entertaining thing she’s seen all day.

The knight nods to himself, having made up his mind, “Yes, I really do think it’s best that I wait.”

In an expression of his inner turmoil, Dismas tilts his head back and heaves out a long, throaty groan.

Reynauld ignores him, bidding adieu to the raven-haired shopkeeper, their business concluded.

She winks at him in return, blowing a kiss and wagging her long nails, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, handsome.”

Dismas shoves his hands into his pockets as they set off towards the barracks, shoulders tense with aggravation, the fur on his jacket coming up to cover his wind-blown ears.

“Still can’t believe you made me wait all that time just so you could–” Dismas cuts himself off, recognizing the glimmer of treasure.

“Oh, you sly dog,” the highwayman whistles, regarding his partner with astonished pride, pulling down his neckerchief to showcase the shit-eating grin plastered across his scarred face, “You didn’t!

"I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” Reynauld says, the fluctuation of his tone much too fake and effervescent to be considered innocent.

“C'mon,” Dismas chuckles, nudging his elbow into the knight’s arm and wagging his eyebrows suggestively,“Confess.”

“The item had already been discarded when I discovered it,” Reynauld says, explaining the appearance of the inconspicuous trinket.

Dismas can spot bullshit from a mile away. Takes a thief to know a thief.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say sticky fingers,” Dismas jives, giving the crusader a smug look, the pronounced scars on his face seeming to extend his smirk even more.

Reynauld risks a glance, taking in the gold fillings that alight the man’s smile, making it more dazzling than it already is, just one of many endearing traits hidden behind the mask of his red scarf.

“It’s value would be better served to fund the church,” is the knight’s assertion, the gravelly baritone indicating that he was becoming annoyed with his partner’s games.

Dismas expects as much. Reynauld was running on a short fuse whenever his credibility was called into question.

“Oh, speaking of church, you went on a mission with that new guy, right? The one that flogs himself half to death. How was he? You two hit it off,” the thief asks.

The knight turns to the highwayman, burning with jealousy, the emotion tangible behind the slots in his helmet “Why the sudden interest in him?"

Dismas snickers to himself, facing forward now to avoid the fire in his partner’s eyes, "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he’s the new thing in town and the folks here don’t have enough to gossip about. Figured you might have the inside scoop on him.”

Rey deadpans, growing more frustrated with each passing minute, “Day by day, we stake our lives against corruption and yet you say there’s nothing more pressing to talk about other than a stark raving lunatic?”

“Yes,” Dismas replies with a shaky uncertainty, posing the word as a question.

Reynauld makes a caustic sound of disgust,“I thought it was surely a joke when I heard the Order accepted the aid of such extremists. It’s disgraceful. Unorthodox.”

Dismas’ eyes widen, caught off guard by his friend’s uncanny ferocity, especially when it came to a fellow believer of the Light.

“So… you’re not a fan then,” the highwayman concludes.

Reynauld barks out a laugh.

“Hardly,” he jests, voice aimed skyward, the exemplative sounding much louder when he realizes that his motley companion is not laughing along with him.

“Is it not the same for you,” the knight asks, fixing his partner with a perplexed look of surprise, his criticism hanging heavy in the space between them.

“Well,” the squirrely man drawls, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t really met the guy and I am not one to judge. Wouldn’t want to make assumptions. Haha, that holy book you keep trying to drill in my brain must finally be rubbing off on me.”

Reynauld stops dead in his tracks, but Dismas doesn’t catch on until a few paces later, reciprocating the action once he learns that he’s left the other behind.

A possessive kind of stare is brewing behind the darkness of the swordsman’s helmet, one that worries the highwayman into thinking that this light-hearted teasing of his has gone a bit too far, crossing some invisible line in the sand.

Dismas returns to the balking crusader’s side, ducking around him playfully to show he meant no harm.

“Don’t worry, big guy, you’re the only churchboy I am after,” the thief reassures him, putting on a lopsided smile, giving the knight a light jab against his pauldrons.

Rey doesn’t budge, not even a twitch of good humor, a prosecution of sins unrectified. With an aura of predatory malaise, the knight advances on him, gripping a fistful of his jacket, enough that the gunman can hear the threads squeak from the strain.

The red-nosed bandit is lifted, boots nearly gliding off the ground as he’s dragged along by the collar.

“H-hey! Rey,” Dismas tries nervously, breaking out into a cold sweat, “barracks are t-that way.”

“I know where the barracks are,” the knight declares, leading the smaller man towards the stone bridge with determined, self-righteous steps, “We’re taking a detour."

Dismas feels a knot twist his stomach, not daring to resist as he’s led past the gray cinderblocks of the abutment and down through the small ditch of grass.

There might have been a thriving river here at one point, but like most things in this backwater town, it’s long since dried up.

Safely hidden beneath the arch of the voussoir overpass, the swordsman finally releases him, shoving him towards a collection of old supply crates growing musty from the elements.

The highwayman reaches out to stop himself from collapsing into the mud, gloved hands hugging onto either side of the wooden box.

Despite Reynauld taking him by the scruff and distributing him here, Dismas finds that he’s the one panting from exertion, pinpricks of warmth crawling up his neck, his cheeks burning red.

Pinching his eyes shut, he collects himself with a few deep breaths, flipping himself around to confront the overzealous crusader.

The knight is already standing so close, knee to knee with their bodies almost touching and Dismas shrinks more firmly against the sharp angle of wood at his back.

"What exactly is going on inside that big head of yours,” the highwayman teases, a heavy blush upon his face, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking a bit jealous crusader.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say the moment that the words leave his mouth, but he wasn’t thinking with his mind anymore.

“The Light demands recompense. I’ll be taking it from you,” Reynauld decrees, hands tugging at the belt that secures his surcoat into place.

Dismas’ telltale heat intensifies, his body well-versed in the heady string of events, his cock swelling inside the confines of his trousers.

The knight pushes his partner down, the smaller man’s back completely molded to the square block of wood, the boards giving a disruptive creak from the added pressure.

Dismas doesn’t protest when a gloved fist pries at the belts on his vest, spreads it open none too kindly, his shirt following the same fate, the fabric pulled from his trousers and pushed under his chin.

The outlaw shivers as the cool night air penetrates his feverish skin, his intentions fraying and exposed, groaning with anticipation.

The visor on Reynauld’s helmet is raised, dark brown locks of hair hanging above crystalline eyes, the man’s beard grazing over wiry muscle as he leans down to suckle an overt nipple.

Dismas gives a hearty tremble then a hiss, Rey’s teeth and tongue working the nub into an unbearable hardness while the other is fondled mercilessly with his thumb.

“Mmrmph, Rey,” gunman begs breathlessly, head tilted back, eyes closed as he concentrates on the sensation.

“Careful Dismas, you’re beginning to echo,” the taller man teases, his words both a warning and a command as he reaches for the highwayman’s belt and all of it goes straight to the ex-con’s groin.

There’s a clatter of something or someone coming from the pier above, jostling them both out of their blissful ministrations.

Rey puts a gloved hand over his lover’s mouth, not trusting him to stay quiet even under these circumstances.

Their uninvited guest is none other than the town crier, sloshing about with a bottle of booze, singing off key as he stumbles along the railway. Strange how they hadn’t heard his approach before, but they listen tentatively now, the trickle of something being spilled off the side of the bridge.

Reynauld meets Dismas yearning gaze, pressing a finger to his own lips in a bid to remain silent and the damned gunman decides it’s a good idea to lick his palm.

Dismas both loathes and loves his decision because his partner grunts, thrusting their clothed bodies together in reparation, the hand against his face squeezing tighter to seal his tongue away.

The drunkard above relieves a startled, “huh,” as he spins around, looking for the source of the noise, but finds the path clear. The hefty weight of footsteps and the clank of glass resumes, continuing onward, the sound of jumbled lyrics gradually fading away.

“You conniving little street rat,” the knight reprimands, taking his hand away so the other can speak his amends.

Dismas just grins at him, mischievous, wanting to continue where they left off.

“Should’ve left you at home,” Rey says more sweetly, “This is what I get for bringing you along.”

The religious sod holds out his hand, letting the trinket unravel from his fingers to dangle above Dismas’ bare chest. Before him spins a silver band fashioned to a convergence of twin guns, pinned by a pair of hawk wings.

It’s almost too much for Dismas’ lust-buzzed mind to comprehend.

"Huh? But didn’t you say–”

“I know what I said,” declares the knight in that deep reverberating voice of his, so solid and firm, just like the rest of him,“It would be better spent on the church. Don’t make me regret giving it to you."

The swordsman is breathing heavily, sweat collecting on his brow, a morbid glare in his bright eyes, though there’s another more tender emotion swirling behind it.

Dismas’ ink-set pupils twinkle in that special way that the crusader lives to see, a characteristic only meant for intimate exchanges like these.

"Well, shucks crusader. I didn’t know you cared,” he taunts, angling his head down in that sultry smolder he knows the other man can’t get enough of, arching one of his dark brows in a clear challenge for more.

“Don’t play with me Dismas,” Reynauld warns, spitting into his free hand, “you should know by now what happens when you do.”

He spreads the meager globs of saliva with a few languid pumps of his hand, erection slick enough to fulfill its purpose, positioning himself against his partner’s core, adding another drop onto where the two of them meet.

“Mmm, yeah … yeah I do,” Dismas moans, biting his lip, eyebrows flicking up to his hairline as he feels that hot length press between his legs ,“why do you think that I ahhhh– by the Light Rey–”

It’s painful and he’s under-stretched, but Dismas doesn’t care, he wasn’t willing to wait. He latches onto his lover’s hips as that holy lance drives into him, moaning out just how much he wants this.

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me just like that,” the ravenette sings, the discomfort a hazy afterthought.

Right now, this glorious knight in shining armor was his and the rugged ex-con wanted to wear that fact like a brand, to feel the touch of their bodies long after the spell of desire has cooled.

“Dismas, what have I told you,” the knight whispers, an azure gaze beholding him with incorrigible fondness.

“That you love me,” the highwayman says, grinning ear to ear.

Reynauld shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“Yes, and what else,” the knight insists, running his hand through the greasy strands of unruly black hair.

“Rey, please,” Dismas begs, needing him to move, wrapping encouraging legs around his waist.

In nostalgic reverence, the knight trails his fingers down to the scars on his lover’s mouth, those harsh lips parting to grip the digit between his teeth, biting at it lightly.

“You’re too reckless,” the swordsman reminds him, pulling his hand away to retrieve the spoils of tonight’s excursion. “Will you wear it,” the knight asks, trinket captured in his fist as he trails the blunt edges of it over the sharpshooter’s agile front down to his lithe stomach.

“Hmm,” the gunman hums, dizzy with pleasure, the chill of metal raising the hairs on his skin. “Yeah, ‘cours I will. But only if you promise to fuck me again, just like this,” Dismas breathes, grateful to feel the man inside him, the savage friction of their flesh better than any vice he knew.

“It would be my pleasure,” Reynauld says, a kingly smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss.

Dismas melts under those holier-than-thou lips, forgets about being chaste as his muscles relax around the generous length that splits him open with each hallow thrust. He pulls the man in closer, hands grasping at the back of his helmet, needing more of that abstained tongue and voice, wanting everything this man would give him.

Later, when both of them are sated and dressed, Dismas looks down at the necklace Reynauld had given him, marveling at the pendant in his hand and the charming resemblance it held to his own set of pistols.

The highwayman walks a little closer, their shoulders brushing as he leans his head onto the metallic chrome of a battle-worn spaulder, their hands clasped between them, silver and red embracing each other tightly.

He promises never to take it off.

——–

Knee-high boots step stealthily around the abbey, pilfering hands guiding the cunning grave robber along as she skirts the concrete at her back, eyes peering around the corner of the penance hall.

Strangely the flagellant is outside his pious chamber, knelt down next to a series of graves bearing the names of clergymen, tending to the onset of spring weeds.

Nothing beautiful lasts in Hamlet. The colorful blossoms of flowers are a luxury rarely seen and aside from the few modest patches of turf marked by trimmed hedges and somber statues of saints passed, the Abbey doesn't have much of a garden.

The silent sleuth stands to her full height, this scene calling for a more personable approach.

"Hey, Damian," Audrey calls, gentle and grounded, waving at him sweetly as she steps through the teasings of grass.

The holy man jolts at her presence, a decade of people watching telling her that his mind is miles away, deep in thought.

"Audrey, good to see you," Damian replies, twisting around to meet her casual demeanor. He discards the overgrowth of roots in his hand, brushing the soil from his robe as he rises to his feet.

Her sharp eyes notice the vibrant yellow of plucked dandelions and the delicate white of queen anne’s lace placed upon the crowns of these simple headstones and she feels a distant pang of sympathy.

"What brings you here? Have you come seeking the path of Light," he says, smiling.

Audrey shoots him a saucy grin in return.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not why I am here. You get points for persistence, though,” she giggles softly, the sound warming her throat.

The holy man deflates when he hears this, his altruism giving her too much credit if he truly believed she would ever devote herself to a lifestyle of prayer and prudence.

"Then, how is it that I can help you,” he asks, his countenance suffering, looking more ragged at the disappointing news.

Damian really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but there’s something else eating at him, Audrey can tell by the grimace hiding just below the surface, the slack of his seemingly gracious front.

"Would you be so kind as to accompany me out to the cove? That is, if you're not too busy," she asks, her upturned fingers pointing at what remains of his apparent yard work.

“As humbled as I am to hear your request, wouldn't it be wiser to have a group of us go," the priest suggests, leaning further towards suspicion.

So, the flagellant is not as dim-witted as she heard, but then again, the shrewd thief didn’t make it very hard for him to figure out her motivations were far from noble.

"This isn't exactly an official mission," the lady explains, "You know all those slimy fishmen we made into sashimi last week? I got it on good authority that the tide is about to wash up a hoard of treasure from their vault."

Having no interest in wealth and riches, Damian doesn't look any more convinced by her proposal.

This called for a change of strategy.

Her direct approach might have been a bust, but maybe some open-ended honesty blended with a bit of flattery could steer the conversation in her favor.

"OK, you got me,” she says, holding her hands up in arrest, “I know you'd just use your share for charity anyhow, but if it's just split between the two of us, we won't have to divvy up the profits let's say … any more than 60/40."

Damian sighs in disappointment. This request of hers reeked of greed and selfish intentions at best.

"C'mon pleeeease," she begs, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her sniveling face, "There's no one else to ask and you're so good at making all the bad guys bleed."

The flagellant had allowed the ex-matriarch to plead her case and while he disagrees with her ideology, he doesn't want the woman traversing the arduous dens of merfolk alone. Should anything untoward happen to her, whether it was in the name of profit or not, he would feel wholly responsible.

"Very well," he sighs, acquiescing, already regretting his decision, though he knew this burden was one he had to shoulder til the end.

"Excellent," She cheers, clasping her hands in delight, crocodile tears suddenly extinguished in light of her success, "Shall we be off, then?"

"I will meet you at the crossroads," Damian says, his gaze now turned towards the church, pensive as the sun shines its beacon over the campanile, "I must let the abbot know of my absence."

—--

Reposed against the sturdy trunk of a tree, Audrey waits in the dark stretch of woods just off the beaten path, safely hidden from view.

Though the streets had been reasonably quiet (as it normally was after a gentle tide), she wasn't about to stand out in the open with a target on her back, trail bereft of carriages and foot traffic be damned.

The grave robber kills time by giving herself a manicure, wheedling the sharp edge of her dagger under her fingernails, somehow never getting them completely free of sediment, the black rings of soil forever embedded into her skin.

With a flicker of movement from up the way, the hood of Damian's holy saunter comes into view. His approach is not the most soft-footed, nor is the rattle of his flail, but Audrey's keen ears picked it up all the same.

She pockets the knife, glad that this boorish interlude was over, striding up the hillbank to meet him.

The flagellant stops, the cloak of illusion fading before his eyes, the rogue's impressive skills of subterfuge making her appear out of nowhere, the environment bending to her candlestein whims.

"About time you showed up, holy man," Audrey jeers, prickly, "Don't you know it's bad manners to keep a lady waiting?"

"Apologies," the flagellant huffs, not willing to dive deeper into the matter.

She clicks her tongue at his reluctance, scoffing at his frowning face.

"One of these days, I am going to get you to lighten up around me," the grave robber asserts, arms crossed in a sassy, cockeyed pose.

He gives her an injured look in return, unable to commit to such a possibility in the foreseeable future.

"OK, let's just put a pin in it for now," she resigns, bleakly tagging it on a metaphysical bulletin board.

"Anyways, you ready to go,” the woman asks, dropping a hand onto her hip, the other raised to usher in their departure.

The flagellant solemnly nods his accord and Audrey grins, leading the way.

The grave robber lets the silence hang between them for a few more paces, her lure not working as perfectly as predicted, but Damian was here, an unwitting informant, and that's all she really needed.

The holy man is not quite walking evenly beside her, but trails slightly behind and it's probably a smart move on his part, though pure vigilance wouldn't stop her from springing a trap if she truly desired, indeed one was already set.

According to her sources, the gruesome newbie never shuts up, an endless stream of religious chatter and unwelcome blessings, but so far the flagellant was not at all the intrusive nuisance she'd been led to believe.

Could it be subjective? Or perhaps this was a phase, an after effect of whatever has been weighing on his mind.

Audrey must debunk such discrepancies, her investigation far from over.

The grave robber clears her throat, parsing the air for a segway of idle chit-chat.

“Given that we have a bit of a walk ahead of us, mind if I ask you something," she broaches, an impish smirk playing out on her ruby red lips.

“If you must,” he replies with a wince, playing along, but bracing himself for the worst of what she could ask him.

Best to cut right to the chase then.

"So … you and the bounty hunter, huh," she ventures, casually dropping the sensitive topic as easily as striking a fuse.

Dread builds like lard in his stomach, the holy man's cadence becoming jittery, head downcast as he processes her incriminating words.

The flagellant had had an inkling about this "off the record," outing, and now the full scope of her conniving plot was clear. This trip was merely a pretense to delve into his personal affairs and satisfy her own curiosity.

"The bounty hunter and I what," he inquires innocently, head tilted towards the clouds.

"Exactly what I meant,” she insists, “What is it about him that's got you chasing the man out into the night like a lovesick puppy?"

Damian withdraws, sinking further into himself, reliving the sequence of events.

Audrey has all the necessary tact for subtly, but being blunt was so much more fun. She blames such proclivities on Dismas. The highwayman was just as prone to mischief and drinking as she was, their late night benders fueling their shenanigans to new heights, egging each other on with evermore daring stunts.

It might have worked against her in this instance, the holy man becoming more reserved.

“Just making conversation,” Audrey adds, shrugging, lowering the stakes.

“He has great potential," Damian muses, finding his answer, "I hope to illuminate his path."

It sounds too safe, too rehearsed and Audrey isn't buying it.

"Uh-huh, suure," the grave robber drawls, her voice dripping with apparent sarcasm, "Care to try again? Except this time, give me the uncensored version."

The hooded man fixates himself with the ground beneath his feet, fingers rubbing along his lip in contemplation.

"He ... ," the flagellant begins, assessing and reassessing his words with a scowl, "he may also be ... a bit … c-cute."

The mere mental image alone shaves years off of Audrey's life. That man had no business being associated with the term, "cute," or any synonym remotely resembling it.

"Wa–wa--wa–wait, wait, wait – are we talking about the same guy here," she asks, completely mortified, "Mister short, broody and mysterious? You think that that's … cute?"

"It's his helmet …," the flagellant goes on to explain, the woman's bombardment of questions making him flustered over his own point of view, " it ... reminds me of an owl. Birds are ... cute, are they not?"

"You can't be serious," she breathes more to herself, mouth agape, utterly dumbfounded, "I've met cadavers more personable than him."

"Perhaps," Damian concedes, forcing a smile that's gone as quickly as it comes, running a hand between the spikes of his collar, gripping the tension in his neck, holding onto it like a tether.

Conveniently, they've arrived at the beach, Damian having no trouble transitioning to the amorphous terrain, walking barefoot as he is. Audrey, on the other hand, struggles to navigate through the shifting sand dunes, fit for more rugged landscapes.

Such petty trifles are soon forgotten, the blonde bandit spotting a bountiful chest washed up near the sea shore.

The woman stops, turning to her companion with a smirk.

"Race ya," she wagers, before taking off like a bullet, the force of her sprint kicking up peels of sand.

Damian is left at the start, barely registering there's been a bet before he finally makes a move, the grave robber more than a good lead ahead and he doesn't have the heart to try besting her.

Approaching the finish line, Audrey gives a celebratory little twirl, looking behind her to see where the competition stood. There was no contest, her agile strides assuring her first place, slamming her hand down on the soggy trunk in a sweep of victory.

"C'mon, what was that," she teases, a little out of breath, but not too disappointed with the results, "you let me win."

"The treasure is rightfully yours," he says, catching up to her.

"How about I give you an extra 15% as a consolation prize," she offers, laughing at his expense, "Since you were such a good sport."

"Why, Audrey," he jokes, sounding coy, "how uncharacteristically generous of you."

The stab of his comeback makes her flush, though she can't be too mad. She did invite him to loosen up earlier.

"Yeah, save it church boy," the woman snips, walking around towards the latch of the chest, "You telling me you've never wanted to buy anything just for yourself?"

Damian's cast shadow spills over her as she lifts the lids, the sparkle of gold inside just as brilliant as the sun dancing on the waves.

"I only take what is necessary to survive," the flagellant tells her, looking away from the crate of spoils and towards the ominous cliff rocks that mark the cove beyond, crossing his arms.

"Your self-sacrificing nonsense is killing me," she pouts, her body wilting dramatically against the doubloons inside, piling them closer to her breast in comfort.

"A life of piety can be incredibly fulfilling, if you let it," he counters, getting defensive, thinking his companion could afford to be more frugal.

"I’ll take your word for it," Audrey scoffs, preferring her life just as it was, finding a beautiful silver hand mirror amidst the loot.

Getting an idea, Audrey rakes her gloved hands through the heaps of gemstones and gold, seeking necklaces, bracelets and earrings.

She dresses herself in a glamor of jewelry, strings of pearls poised around her neck, a few larger carat rings to hug her lonely fingers. Fit for a ball, the grave robber admires her new look in the mirror, an ugly reflection of her past staring back at her.

Audrey frowns, lowering the looking glass back into the chest, along with the jewels, locking the contents away.

"Anyway, real talk," Audrey says, quick to change the subject, "Are you going to tell him?"

"Hmm," the morbid priest exclaims, not following her train of thought, concentrating on their surroundings and the gentle rise and fall of the tide.

"The bounty hunter. Did you tell him how you feel," the bandit asks, sitting herself upon the sealed trunk, hands spread leisurely at her sides, legs crossed in the sand, "Did he say he's got a thing for you too?"

Damian goes quiet, fidgeting with his collar to quell his nervousness, but such actions only give him away.

"I already have made my intentions known as best I can," he admits, tone despondent, "though it matters not,” he says more quietly, frustrated in his attempts, but still refusing to give up.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," the grave robber says, trying to raise the man’s confidence, "Tardif is a tough nut to crack. Give it time. l think you have a shot at winning him over."

Eyeing the flagellant from top to bottom, Audrey grins wickedly at how perfectly suited these two single bachelors were. One man so in love with pain while the other is in love with causing it. A match made in heaven.

"You certainly have the right kind of body for a guy like that," she concludes, clicking her tongue, firing off a finger gun and a wink.

Damian seems to be bursting into flames as he considers this, his whole body going a shade redder than usual (which was saying a lot).

"May we please drop the subject," the man pleads, averting his gaze and rubbing at his neck again, his collar feeling too tight.

"What's the worst that could happen," she continues, her lips ignorant of his request, carrying on with a lackluster shrug of her shoulders, "He strangles the life out of you for daring to ask him out on a date?"

Damian chuckles modestly, remembering how almost every encounter with the bounty hunter had usually ended with him being tied up or pinned down. He swallows thickly at the prospect, growing hotter at the thought of that man’s hands around his throat.

"I’d bet you'd let him, wouldn't you," suggests her incriminating alto, watching him stew below the brim of her hat, pressing for more tawdry responses, entertaining as it was.

"Hmm," comes the bemused hum and Audrey's not sure if it's an affirmation or not, but she's already got all the evidence she could possibly need, even without his outright confession.

"Then, how about this? You helped me out today so I'll put in a good word for you," the gentlewoman offers, mischievousness abound as she rises to her feet.

"Audrey," he warns, a resounding petition, "You will do no such thing."

"Not that you could stop me," she reminds him, more than capable of playing cupid on her own, "but if that's what you want …"

"Yes, it is. Thank you," he says in relief, more grateful for this act than the 15% commission she had offered him earlier.

Audrey's arms hang out at her sides, marking his loss, her match-making expertise denied. "Well, if you really want to thank me," she taunts, always the betting type, "then show me how much treasure you can carry, hot stuff."

"More than you," he grins cheekily, happy to exchange this feat of physical labor for her discretion.

"That's the spirit," the lady thief cheers, patting him on the shoulder as he bends to lift the heavy coffer now bound for Hamlet.

Audrey gives the holy man a head start as they make their way back, strolling behind him as she reviews her findings, coming to the conclusion that the flagellant wasn't such a bad guy to be around.

Odd, certainly, but no less so than the bounty hunter and while they were all guilty of at least one undesirable quirk or another, Damian was simply more transparent about his shortcomings.

Spying an "enemy" about to disrupt their path, (more like a harmless crab minding it's own business) the thief springs into action. She snatches up the scuttling crustacean (a carapace of relatively normal size), hurling it back into the ocean before Damian's toes fall victim to it’s pincers.

---

Para sighs, a self-dejected tragedy spoken from behind the changing wall.

"Can't believe I left my lab for this," the intellectual whines, groaning as they brace themselves against the trifold panel, Audrey cinching the corset around their waist a notch tighter.

“Hey, I let you play mad scientist all morning," the ex-aristocrat tuts, pulling on the well-worn strings mercilessly, "Now it's time for you to play fancy dress up with me."

With great effort, the shape-wear flattens against the plague doctor's ribcage, their waist line so tightly constricted that they've broken a sweat. “Are you trying to kill me,” the brunette snarls, gritting their teeth, “What part of this is supposed to be fun?"

"None of it," Audrey affirms with a grin, having the same inane tradition practiced on her more times during her debutante life than she can count, "Not for you, dear. This is all for me.”

The grave robber ties the final knot, securing the shape wear into place (not that her girlfriend's petite figure needed slimming), but this was less about cosmetic enhancement and more about formalities.

“OK, time for the dress,” Audrey declares, brimming with excitement. She strips the mannequin of the velvet gown, a beautiful bliaut of emerald and gold filigree, a perfect compliment to Para's exceptionally dark hair and pale skin.

“Turn and hold onto my shoulders. Then, I’ll have you step into it,” the grave robber instructs, ruffling the neckline as she lays the frock open on the floor, pooled around their feet.

Para does as they're told, watching on as their thin legs are swathed in yards of elaborate fabric, the blonde handmaiden admiring the white undergarments and the matching bustier as she rises up to adjust the fit on the arms, smoothing out the sleeves to accommodate her girlfriend’s much daintier shoulders.

The erotic shiver climbing through boxy-shaped hips doesn't escape Audrey’s notice, the presence of her warm breaths making goosebumps appear on a porcelain neck as she rounds out the gown, buttoning it up at the back.

"There,” the thief exclaims, running her hand over the bodice, “let's see how the front looks on you."

"Why am I doing this again," Para whines, their soul threatening to leave their body, crammed inside a gilded prison as it was.

"Cuz I told you Damian had a thing for Tardif and I was right,” Audrey eagerly reminds the brunette, “Now you gotta pay up.”

Stiffly, the tomboy turns to face their girlfriend, arms held comically out to their side, compensating for a hoop skirt that wasn’t even there. The plague doctor still tries to hunch, though the fabric is fighting to keep them upright, their posture slightly improved. Despite this, the dress runs a little long, (understandably, since it once belonged to Audrey), but the seamstress could easily tailor it to match a hem of shorter height.

"You look stunning in dark green," the blonde remarks, her breath stolen by such untapped beauty. Para is a vision, a romantic tableau if only they would allow themselves to be styled with these splendid accessories more often, Audrey soaking in the portrait of regality for all it’s worth.

"Thanks, I hate it,” the scholar grumbles, shattering the charming fantasy, “Can I take it off now?”

"Not til you have a drink with me," Audrey declares, removing the wide bifocals from Para’s nose, basking in the rare sight of their frank, unfiltered face. The appearance of fine lines and bruising under their tired eyes spoke of an taxing work regimen and some much needed recreation.

“Aaaudreeeeyyyy,” Para wails, extending her name like a berating curse, “How many times do I have to tell you I can’t see without my glasses.”

The scholar blinks, squinting helplessly, their whole equilibrium off balance, wriggling hands out in front of them for depth of field.

“Shhh, darling you’re just near-sighted,” Audrey reminds them, depositing the spectacles in her jacket pocket for safe keeping. “Here, rely on me,” the blonde says, grasping a small hand inside her own, heralding the plague doctor towards the opposite side of the study.

Para sighs, trudging along at a snail's pace, “Alcohol is going to set back my workflow. I've been experimenting with a contagion and I am so close to devising a–"

The plague doctor cuts themselves off as they’re released, stranded in the carpet of the foyer. Audrey's disappearance is followed by the clink of crystal, the grave robber’s fuzzy shadow no doubt retrieving a set of drinking glasses and a long-necked bottle from the cabinet, fixing the mopey scientist with a look when she returns.

"Fine," Para agrees, rolling their head back with the power of their scoff, knowing Audrey would not budge, "one drink.”

"Marvelous,” Audrey chirps, setting the glasses down on the lace doilies of a mahogany coffee table, “I'll pour!"

Somehow, one drink has turned into two and then three.

Para is now wedged into the corner of an antique couch, their face flush and propped up on the pedestal of their hand while Audrey, conversely, is laying supine in their lap, being fed sweets like a queen.

The grave robber’s hat had been thrown lucratively sometime during the second drink, her ascot as well hangs loosely around her collar, boots stripped so that her long legs could spread themselves out on the cushions. A numbness creeps into the scholar’s legs, the bandit's head nestled comfortably on them as it was, and Para shuffles to instigate blood flow, dropping another chocolate into the waiting mouth below.

"We should invite Josie over,” the blonde thief muses, savoring the rich taste on her tongue, “And Missy… and Margie.”

Para sighs, their introverted tendencies put off by the thought, "You know how I am about large gatherings."

"But I like them," Audrey whines, pouting up at her unmasked girlfriend through long wisps of hair.

"Yes, you do," the scholar agrees, their head drooping further into their hand, adverse to the memory.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Audrey assures with a drunken giggle.

Suddenly, the blonde bandit is up, wrapping arms around her girlfriend’s neck in excitement, eager to share her stupendous ideas, "There will be tea and gossip and lots of fancy cakes!"

"Oh, joy…," the plague doctor drones, none of these bribes sounding quite as appealing to them.

"Pleeeease? If you do this for me, I'll get you that thing you want,” the thief offers, her green eyes teasing in the lamplight, “You know, that thing you've had your eye on now for a while now."

Para’s ragdoll expression perks up, suddenly interested in what this favor could mean for their research, "Can you really pull it off?"

"Mmm-hmmm," purrs Audrey, nodding with a goofy smile, "If I can win the flagellant over, I can win anyone over, darling."

"OK," Para agrees, much more enthusiastic about the idea of a get-together now, "We’ll throw a party, but only if you can convince Bigby to come.”

"Deal," Audrey squeals in delight, throwing her hands legs out in celebration, sealing their wager with a kiss.

--- FLASHFORWARD*

Damian keeps himself busy, fulfilling whatever minuscule task is asked of him, always listening for news, clinging to hope that the bounty hunter will one day return.

Too many moments pass, the flagellant entertaining the idea of abandoning everything, renouncing his solemn duty in a quest to retrieve the stubborn ox, going so far as to ask Paracelsus what they knew, but even they can only offer conjectures towards a wayward soul’s absence.

Toiling with emotions of longing and grief, Damian decides to visit the cabin once more in solace. He breaks inside, climbing through the boarded windows, the axe he finds stuck in a tree an accomplice to this forced entry.

The flagellant can’t remember why he's come back to this place, not when he’s consumed by memories, his fits of turmoil climbing higher, becoming more manic, berserk. He means to find some clue, a direction, believing it must be there if only he scours for it hard enough.

The blonde spends half the day looking, noting that Tardif had not parted with all of his belongings, some things forgotten that perhaps would not have been if he had truly left for good.

Such emptiness, such wishful fallacy causes him to seek the absolution of his flail. So engrossed in his punitive discipline, he doesn’t notice the clatter of something at the door, not until an explosive bang brings lucidity to his senses.

Instantly, Damian is on his feet, reaching for the latch, knowing in his heart who it must be on the other side.

The wood slams open like a crack of thunder, the winds strong and howling in the night sky, the shadow of the man standing before him nothing short of a ghost.

Tardif.

The bounty hunter is stripped to tatters, armor shredded in more places than the flagellant can count.

Half his helmet is missing, though his skull is still intact, crimson streaking down his face like war paint.

Damian doesn’t have to ask what happened, the unspoken question is reflected in every feature of his face, fear for his partner's life contorting it even further.

“Let … my guard … down,” says the gruff voice, refusing to reveal more whether it would be to his benefit or not.

The stubborn mercenary shuffles closer, a weak hobble that goes completely limp, his legs giving out as he collapses forward, losing what strength he had left to stand.

The flagellant scrambles to catch him before he hits the floor, holding onto his mangled shoulders, taking the brunt of his weight into his possession.

Tardif leans into him, having nowhere else to go, letting the blonde gingerly guide him down.

"I-it's OK now," Damian stutters, trying to convince himself of his own reassurances, "I-i've got you."

Laid out on his back, head cradled safely in his partner's hand, the mercenary's eyes close, grateful to finally rest, though his labored breaths say otherwise.

Damian knows the damage done to his fallen comrade is great, but he must find the worst of it, the scourge of his condition. He cannot waste his energy on effigies, clutters of imitations that mimic a grim fate if there was any chance of saving him.

Pale fingers start with the head wound, a ghastly blossom, deep and circular like a leeche's bite. It's serious, but not what ebbs at the bounty hunter's life.

Following the trail of blood, treading down his neck and jaw with feather light inspections, the flagellant is marveled by the miracle that Tardif still clings to consciousness despite the depth of pain.

"Stay with me," the priest urges, his voice weak with worry, yet tempered with resolution.

Instead of a grunt, Tardif manages a feeble huff, growing weary, head lolling in Damian’s grip.

The flagellant wants to redouble his efforts, move swiftly, but he needs the focus of a stable hand, passing over the integrity of Tardif’s overworked heart and the streams of lacerations with forced moderation. He reaches the girdle of the brute’s utility belt, blood caked so heavily against the gambeson one would think it was carved from red stone, perceiving the mortal wound beneath.

“I-I need to remove this,” Damian tells him, shaking terribly, his voice like broken glass as he looks over his partner's convulsing body, torn apart by injury.

“No,” demands the bounty hunter, his voice wet and garbled, hacking through another spasm of blood.

Even through the harsh battery of torn speech, Damian understands, but that doesn't mean he will listen.

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