Follow Your Passion: A Seamless Tumblr Journey
Tw: Violence - Blog Posts
TW/CW: Eye Scar, Injuries , Psychological Trauma , Discussion Of Violence , Discussion Of Death In Family And Friends.
I've Decided To Make A Cookie Y/N :>
I Got Inspired By Other People Like ( @akbrain , @snowywolf1005, @brittle-doughie , @xaytheloser @ablobwhowrites )
Behold Jaded Y/N:
Backstory: They Were Initially Friends With The Beasts Before They All Corrupted. After A Big Fight With All Of Them They Ended Up With A Scar Covering Half Of Their Face Causing Them To Lose Vision In Their Right Eye.
They Swore Vengeance On The Beasts For What They Did To Their Family , Friends And Everyone On EarthBread...
Hopefully The Ancients Could Give Them The Comfort/Trust They Need.
Right Enough for Me
CW: no outbreak, murder, domestic violence, descriptions of violence (Joel’s the good guy, I promise)
This fic is based off the song Wait in the Truck by HARDY and Lainey Wilson
Joel Miller liked to believe that he was a good man, that he tried his damndest to do the right thing, but as he sat in his truck parked by the bank of the Colorado looking down at the still-warm pistol in his trembling hands he’d wondered if he’d done wrong. In the eyes of the law he had, sure, but morally, truly, was it wrong?
He sighs as he climbs out of his truck and walks into the river until it lapped just below the tops of his work boots. It was eight a.m. on a Tuesday. There were no sunbathers, nobody playing in the water, nobody to see him wind his arm back and hurl the gun into the river. Hopefully the lifeblood of Texas would take his sins far east and spill them into the Gulf.
As Joel made his way to his jobsite he couldn’t seem to keep his mind from running. Part of him wanted to clam up and try to forget what he’d done, but another part wanted to clear his conscience. If he went to a confessional they weren’t allowed to go to the cops, but the penance they’d give wouldn’t absolve him. He could probably confide in Tommy, he was sure to understand, but what if he didn’t? Instead he just sighs and wipes the nervous sweat from his brow and goes to decide today's agenda. Despite it all, despite the horrible, horrible events of the morning, he was still the first one to work with ten fresh boxes of Carpenter’s nails and the crisp receipt to go with them. Maybe things would be okay.
One Month Earlier
A knock at the door raises Joel from the breakfast table, wordlessly ruffling Sarah’s hair as he passes on his way to the door. He swings the door wide and lets a dopey smile spread across his face when he sees you with your usual beer can sized rollers still in your hair. He takes notice of the split in your perfectly lined lips.
You weren’t prideful, but he knew you’d be humiliated if he mentioned it. He’d been there before, after all.
“Mornin’ Darlin’,” he greets, waving for you to come in. “We’ve still got plenty if you’re hungry,” he offers, gesturing to the dining room table where Sarah was strategically drizzling syrup onto a sausage link.
“Nah, I’m alright. Already ate with JP. I’ll take some coffee if you’ve got it though”
“Alright then.”
You give him a smile and join Sarah at the table while Joel fixes your coffee just how you liked it, sliding it in front of you before disappearing upstairs.
“Y/n,” Sarah questions, looking up from her plate.
“Yeah kiddo?”
“How’d you meet my dad again?”
“I grew up down the street, but we met ‘cause of you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You was real little when I started watching you, ‘bout three I think. Your dad needed someone to watch you and I’ve been your babysitter ever since.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
She grins in response. “Seven years. That’s a long time. Why don’t you marry my dad, he really likes you, plus you’re basically my mom already.”
You cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to not spew coffee all over the naive girl in front of you.
“Honey, you know I can’t. I’m married to JP. He’s a good man.”
Her eyes narrow. “If he’s so great how come I’ve never met ‘em”
“He don’t like rugrats. You done eating?”
“Oh I see how it is, and yes. Can I go watch TV?”
“Go brush your teeth and then we’ll talk.”
“Okay.”
You can’t help but smile as Sarah slides out of her seat and runs upstairs. It was almost seven and you knew she didn’t want to miss the newest episode of Inuyasha. You get up and scrape what's left of her plate into the trash and put it into the dishwasher, smiling to yourself when you hear Joel jogging down the steps in his heavy boots.
“Alright Darlin’, I’m outta here,” he calls, punctuated by the jingling of his keys as he pulls them from their designated hook. “You got her?”
“Always do Joel,” you respond, giving him a lazy grin as you head into the bathroom to finish your hair.
Sarah knocks on the door and you let her in, telling her she can watch TV as long as it isn’t too loud and she already has her backpack together. She thanks you and scampers off, leaving the door open behind her, which was probably for the better since your hairspray was starting to choke you.
After you get Sarah off to school you head to work for another exciting day of taking phone calls and sharpening pencils, then using said pencils to record notes of said phone calls and then do it all over again the next time the phone rang.
Dale had come in again, bug-eyed and skittish as usual, trying his damndest to chat you up despite your obvious disinterest, pressing about how things were with you and JP, if he’d want to have beers with him after work sometime, how your tomatoes were, and on and on. Finally you’d gotten him to get to what he was there for, which was getting his truck's registration update put on file, and you’d promptly shooed him out after everything was squared away.
You’d finally gotten off and picked Sarah up from school, cracking open one of Joel’s High Lifes and propping your bare feet up on the coffee table to watch General Hospital while Sarah worked on her homework. Time crawled on and Sarah finished up and went outside to play on her tire swing before coming in and laying on the floor beside you with her copy of Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret, that you had gotten her last month. You figured you'd stop and get her Starring: Sally J Freedman as Herself next. It was always your favorite.
Around five fifteen you had called JP and let him know that you were going to be late getting home since there was no sign of Joel and he still hadn’t called. He’d gotten upset, so you just told him you loved him real sweetly and hung up and started dinner for Sarah.
Finally Joel got home around six and thanked you for staying late.
When you’d gotten home JP was furious, backing you into a corner and shouting into your face, calling you every name under the sun for God knows how long before he got bored and went back to the couch, demanding dinner and a beer.
JP had been a decent man for so long, you dated throughout highschool, parted ways, reconnected and got married at twenty-four. Things had been falling apart the last couple months and it had you looking for an out, hell you had the divorce papers shoved in your trunk under the spare tire, you were just too scared to tell him what you wanted, scared he wouldn’t let you leave, on the sunny side of a black bag at least. He got in your face like that for some reason or another at least three nights a week, and he'd busted your lip the night before over dinner being late. You knew it was too late to fix whatever you two used to have.
Things cooled off after that for about a week, then he came home drunker than a skunk and when you’d gone to get the mail the next morning you’d noticed a giant dent in his back bumper and that the front of his truck was barely an inch from the side of the trailer. You’d quietly made breakfast and went and woke JP when it was ready. He’d staggered his way into the kitchen and flopped into one of the chairs at the table.
“JP did you back into something last night?”
“What does it matter, woman?”
“You ain’t supposed to drive like that, you could’a hurt somebody, you could’a gotten hurt.”
“Last I checked this was a free country.”
“Last I checked, it's illegal to drive drunk.”
“Its only two miles back from Wyld’s”
“You almost drove through the damn house, JP.”
He’d risen sharply from his chair and come around the table, following you as you’d backed away from him. “C’mere, don’t act all scared now,” he growled, catching you by the arm and spinning you to face him and landing a heavy slap across your cheek. His breath still reeked of booze, and the look in his eyes told you that he was still extremely drunk, and that was probably what was keeping him from winding back on you. He was almost never drunk when he’d hit you.
“Teach you to fucking get smart with me again, bitch.”
It had only gotten worse from there, angry red marks became black eyes and hand-shaped bruises around your elbow that you’d so masterfully covered with more makeup than a Rodeo Queen, blotting your eyes when they’d water, and wearing those big sunglasses of yours as much as possible.
Joel had invited you and JP to a cookout at his place later that week and you’d both gone. JP played nice with the Millers and their friends until Tommy jokingly referred to you as ‘Sara’s new mama’ and then he’d dragged you inside, growling accusations under his breath at you while you tried your damndest to tell him that Tommy was just poking fun because you’re always looking after her. You open your mouth to tell him he didn’t mean nothing by it, but before you can speak he’s grabbed you by a fistfull of Texas-sized curls and you don’t have time to put your hands out before your face collides with the cold tile of the kitchen counter.
JP turns you loose and you stagger back a couple of steps, resting against the fridge to steady yourself as your vision swims, tinnitus setting in louder than it's ever been, and you’re vaguely aware of the warm ooze crawling down your top lip.
Finally your vision steadies some and you see that JP is gone. You wipe your nose on the back of your hand and feel around for fractures while you look around slowly, trying to remember where you are when you see Joel standing at the foot of the stairs
“How long’s he been doin’ that to you,” Joel questions, taking your clean hand and leading you into the bathroom, easing you to sit on the lid of the toilet and closing the door.
“It keeps bleeding,” you murmur, complying when Joel puts a wad of toilet paper in your hand and brings it to your nose, gently urging you to look down.
“You need to go to the hospital,” he informs you, steadying your chin and inspecting your eyes.
“I’m okay.”
“He slammed your face into the counter.”
“You seen that?”
“I heard it. You still bleeding?”
“No.”
“I’m gonna go get you some ice, just try to stay awake.”
“‘M’kay.”
He returns with a rag full of ice and gently presses it to your forehead in a couple places before focusing on your nose.
“I love you Joel,” you slur, finally giving into your heavy eyelids.
“No. No, hey. Look at me.” He taps at your cheek, sighing with relief when your eyes weakly flutter open again.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m calling nine-one-one,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.
Your hand flies out and grasps his wrist as harshly as you can manage, making your head throb. “No, mhmh, can’t. He’ll kill me if he knows anyone knows.”
“Then we’ll just tell everyone you slipped and hit your face on this sink here, how’s that?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Listen I can keep him away from you, but you’re goin’ to the hospital and that’s that.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
You don’t remember much of what happened after that, but JP never found out that Joel knew, and Joel was pissed when you’d left the hospital and had him take you back to that trailer instead of letting him take you down to your parents in San Antonio like he wanted to.
“Honey, please let me take you to your mama.”
“Joel…”
“He didn’t even bother to come get you.”
“I gotta be strategic about this. He’s crazy. He’s got boys in Galveston that make it snow all over the state with guns you can’t buy.”
“Fuck, Jesus, fuck. Girl, what have you gotten yourself into?”
“I don’t want to think about it right now.”
“I’ll think about it for you.”
Current Day
JP hadn’t put his hands on you in the week you’d been out of the hospital, which was likely because the bill you’d been sent home with was more than hefty. Life was so close to back to normal, sending him off to work and looking after Sarah, who believed the sink story that Joel had made up for you.
Joel.
You’d finally said it that day, what you’d been feeling all those years but too scared to say, words that could have saved you all this trouble if you’d just said them sooner, sitting there in his bathroom thinking every word out of your mouth would be your last, you’d told him. You hoped he felt the same, but maybe he just thought it was delirium.
You’d decided to go home for lunch today since you’d forgotten to pack one and your deli meat was about to expire. When you pull into your driveway you’re surprised to see JP’s truck sitting there in the driveway. A dread bubbles up in your belly, but you steel yourself and climb the stairs to your door.
It’s unlocked. Weird.
You go inside and go straight to the fridge, pulling the meat, cheese and mayonnaise out, spinning around and closing it with your hip. As you look up your hands jerk, leaving everything you were holding to the mercy of gravity as you let out a scream. Your right hand reaches out, finding the wall to steady yourself, tapping around, seeking the phone before finding it and pulling it from the hook and calling the cops.
You explain the situation to the operator as best you can, periodically looking over your shoulder to make sure that you’re not just seeing things, but every time you look, JP’s still laying in the bedroom floor, his eyes wide and glassed over, staring directly at you, blood seeping into the creme colored carpet and flowing with the bow of the floor onto the dark linoleum of the hallway.
Finally the cops show up and start their investigation while one officer pulls you outside for questioning. After the investigators have all they need from the body, the coroner shows up and carts JP off.
They told you you couldn’t be there while they continued so you went back to work. You told your boss why you were late getting back and he told you to take the rest of the day, but you couldn’t go home, so you went to Joel’s.
You spend the rest of the time before you have to go get Sarah thinking about a lot of things. Finally your mind settles and you realize that no matter what, he can’t hurt you again and that’s good enough for you.
When Joel gets home you already have dinner made and Sarah’s finishing up setting the table. You can tell by the look of him that there’s some weight on his shoulders, but you can’t place why. You’d surely know before the end of the day. Joel was never one to keep things from you.
He thanks you and asks if you’re staying. You nod and take a seat, gesturing for him and Sarah to fix their plates first. After your own plate is settled, you reach out your hands.
“I think we should pray.”
Joel gives you a funny look but still takes your hand and bows his head. You can feel him knock his foot into Sarah’s and she takes your hand too.
You pray silently and signal your finish with an audible “Amen,” which the Miller’s echo.
“What’s got you feelin’ Grace again, Darlin’,” Joel questions, raising another forkful of meatloaf to his mouth as he speaks.
“Mysterious favors, I reckon.”
He shrugs and tries to give you a smile despite his concerned expression.
“Fair enough.”
After dinner is put away and Sarah’s been tucked in by the both of you, it’s just you and Joel downstairs, sitting at the dining room table in awkward silence, looking up at each other when you can’t stand the silence anymore.
“Joel,” you question, meeting his eyes with your own. They’re darker than usual and the lines around his eyes seem much deeper than they did the day before.
“Yes, Darlin’?”
“JP’s dead. I went home for lunch and…found him.”
“I’m sorry that you saw that. That’s God-awful.”
Something you’ve never felt bubbles up inside you, heavy, sore and unknown, not fear, not anger, but something dangerously toeing the line between them and something positive. There was nothing God-awful about finding someone who had died naturally, sad maybe, but not horrible. God-awful was ruined carpet and a gray splatter across the side of the dresser. Joel knew what you had seen.
It was always Joel, no matter what problem you had, he would take care of it.
“Joel?”
“Yes?”
You drop your voice to a whisper, scared that someone will hear, despite being in his home, terrified that he’d lose it all over you. “Did you do it?”
He drops his gaze from yours. “Did I do the right thing?”
“It’d been me if you didn’t.”
“That’s right enough for me.”
Tears well up in your eyes as they finally meet his gaze again. “I’ll protect you too.”
His eyes fall shut and he sighs, dropping his shoulders.
“No matter what I know you got Sarah.”
“I won’t have to. What’d you do with it? Was it yours?”
“It’s on its way to the Gulf, and no, dug it up on a site last year. Never did know why I kept it. Reckon I’m glad I did though.”
You take his rough hand in yours and squeeze, giving him a soft smile as you get up from the table. He follows without hesitation.
“Joel, I gotta get going.”
“You ain’t scared of me, are you,” he questions, his expression pained, his eyes silently pleading with you.
“I’d never be scared of you, no matter what you do. That day in the bathroom, that wasn’t the concussion talking. I meant what I said.”
Joel’s breath catches and his hand tightens around yours, lifting your arm even with your shoulder. Your fingers stiffen instinctively, and then relax as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist and then lets go.
You start making your way to the door and like always, he follows, opening the door for you and leaning on it. His face lacks its usual crooked smile, it’s somber as you step out onto the porch and turn to face him.
“Thank you, Joel.”
“Darlin’?”
“Yes, Joel?”
“Will you pray for me?”
“I’d do anything you asked me to.”
“Be safe gettin’ home, okay?”
“Always do” you call, making your way down the walkway to your car, noticing how Joel watches from the door as you duck in, only closing the door when you start backing out of the driveway.
Hello tumblr, this is a poem I wrote about myself, tws in tags
pleading angel ⋆˚꩜｡
˗ˏˋ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。 ₊ ‧ 。 ₊ ‧ 。꒰\ ♡ /꒱ 。‧₊ 。‧₊ 。‧₊ ˚ ˎˊ˗
A GLOBAL CALL FROM TURKIYE TO ALL WOMEN AROUND THE WORLD
In 2024 only, 290 women fell victim to violent crimes. Turkish women have no security and want to walk in the streets without worrying. The murderers of these women are living their lives without worrying but we can't even go outside. Even when we report them with evidences, they are released within a week.
31 women in january
36 women in february
25 women in march
32 women in april
40 women in may
41 women in june
23 women in july
33 women in august
34 women in september
were victims of femicide this year in turkiye and these are only the known cases
you can help us raise awareness by using the tags
#turkishwomanareindanger
#turkishwomanneedhelp
just please give it a minute and read this‼️🚨
Hey guys i know this is goint to be different than my usual content but i always speak up or do whatever i can to help people all around the world. And I want your help this time.
This might be triggering for some people and i'm sorry in advance but please read the whole thing and help me raise my voice and the women of my country's to make this matter known so that the government would start taking us seriously and start taking measures for women's safety.
I’m Turkish and I live in Turkey. I couldn’t be more proud to be Turkish but the government (which they’ve been on power for like 25 years) destroyed our country by doing everything they can. No people in Turkey has a safety right now especially women and children. Why am I telling you all of this? Because they’re releasing the criminals and corrupted our legal and justice system. For the couple of days a woman sexually assaulted by two men and caught by cameras and they released them. But after people started to post this in X they put them in jail back. We’re trying to make justice from social media.
Yesterday, 2 women were brutally murdered by the same man at Edirnekapı, Istanbul. The murderer first killed Ayşenur (19) in his home and called the cops to report the murder then, he went to kill İkbal (19). Semih Çelik murdered those two 19 YEAR OLD girls, İkbal Uzuner and Ayşenur Halil. He slit Ayşenur's throat and dismembered İkbal Uzuner on top of the city walls and he THREW İKBAL'S HEAD IN FRONT OF HER MOTHER. He then committed suicide by jumping from the very same place he dismembered İkbal. And he did all this IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
He had been stalking İkbal for over a year, his own father had reported him several times, a disturbing drawing made by him and a video of him filmed last year talking about how he wanted to kill İkbal (quoting the exact words from the video: "...The day you saw me, I had come to kill you. I wanted to take a life with me when I left this life, and it was more valuable for me if that person was you. To cut out your heart, your eyes…") were uncovered recently but NO MEASURES WERE TAKEN. That psychopath took two innocent lives and the only thing that the government did was to impose a broadcast ban.
So as a woman who is afraid, i am asking you to spread this and to make this known. We, turkish women, hope that making this matter known globally will help us.
This hashtag #turkishwomenareindanger is also used in X and if you want to see what have been going through for the years you can look up to it and please look up.
The things I’m trying say this with all of that. There’s no justice in our country. There are very dangerous and a lot of groups that hating women and trying to normalize this. I’m talking about normalizing RAPE/CHILD PORN/WOMEN HOMOCIDES/ THREATS/BLACKMAIL/ VIOLENCE and everything related to them.
Why do we need help to raise our voices?
>In 2021, Turkey became the first and only country to withdraw from the Istanbul Convention, a human rights treaty of the Council of Europe opposing violence against women.
>Women's complaints are not taken seriously, and offenders are repeatedly let go without any consequences. Our prisons are filled to the brim with journalists and political prisoners, however repeat sexual offenders, abusers, p3d0philes and murderers are released.
So this means, even if that murderer did not commit suicide he might've not been punished properly for his crimes.
The images below are the details.
the images and some paragraphs i took from @thhestia
peace
peace is a wonderful thing
something so simple
yet so complicated
its the gentle winds blowing against your hair
the bright sun warming your face
its spending time with people you love and care for
but sometimes its a little more dark
a little more violent
its the feeling of getting reveng
of being the first to do it and taking others down
its fighting back against the bully
its the knife in that guys back
the one who tormented you to no end
but sometimes peace is also the quiet
or the load bickering, and laughter
peace is so complicated
but its something we all want
with its flaws and all
Blue
Dabi angst fic, not really proof read, doesn’t contain any strong topics aside from strong hatred.
Cold. Cold was all you felt, a feeling you had almost forgotten. Forgotten how cruel it was how it was as it enveloped your bruised and beaten body. Snowflakes fell from the dark, chilly sky as wind weaved through the buildings.
Sitting atop the snowy ground you were leaning against the hard mossy brick of the LOV building a shadow cast along your face as you held your body together despite the pain from the burns and bruises. With labored breathing you raised your head to look at his face. Turquoise eyes stared back, the way they looked at you made the snow beneath your feet feel almost warm in comparison.
You had predicted this day long ago and knew it was only a matter of time before it came. You had played your role for the league you had performed admirably, it earned you praise among them. Now that you had done your part you were to be disposed of because you were no longer of worth.
You knew this was coming, you knew you wouldn’t be around for too long, you were almost hyper aware of it. Yet you cracked just a bit, you let yourself smile a little too genuinely at his snide comments and rude remarks, relished a bit too much at the feeling of his rough and burnt skin. Relaxed a tad bit more than you should have at the familiar burnt smell from him.
Doomed from the beginning, you knew that you were and no matter how many heinous crimes you committed, no matter how much blood you covered your hands in... You found yourself to be unable to rid yourself of the human feeling of love despite society seeing you as no longer human.
Though on this snowy day in January, you remembered why you should have ridden yourself of this emotion. Giving a cold-eyed appraisal of the situation, he stepped forward though you could not bring yourself to even uselessly try pushing back farther into the wall. Your body ached and started to go numb starting from your legs. The wounds ached a bit more when he squatted down to your eye level.
You knew you were fighting back tears finally met with the despair of death you both had cruelly tormented others with. His hand reached out to caress your face, his touch was disgustingly gentle, quite different to the harsh and hot hands he had beat you with just a few seconds earlier.
Staring back at him with red watery eyes you were sure you looked pathetic for someone who was infamous for being such a cruel and powerful villain. Everything you had once felt for the black-haired man before you were nothing more than a wistful memory. All that was left was a very bitter feeling that seemed to bubble over in the moment. Gathering what little strength you had left you spat at his face the glob landing on his cheek, his eyes flashed for a split second with amusement.
The hand he had placed on your cheek swept over a wound to collect the blood which in turn made you hiss in pain. “You really don’t know when to knock it off do you?...Always hated that about you, you know?” His croaky voice that you once enjoyed filled you with nothing but abhorrence now, your eyes were no longer teary, instead they stared into his cold ones with malevolence.
Not that you cared anymore but you still found yourself searching for an inkling of emotion in his lackluster eyes, but you found nothing.
The slightly warm palm that had been held to your cheek without moving much had begun to heat up slowly but surely. He started talking once more his tone casual not befitting the current situation at hand “hey you had that really dumb nickname for me...What was it again...Oh...Blue.” It was a nickname you had given him when you first joined the league, and you did not know his name.
Everything you had done led right up to your demise but what you regretted most was letting that emotion even if it was just a little. You should have known a man like himself lost the ability to love another long ago leaving only the hollow shell where a soul once resided. Perhaps it would have made this moment less bitter, perhaps if he loved you in return, it could have been bittersweet.
His hand continued to heat up while his other hand stroked your hair. It was in an almost mocking manner like he was trying to comfort his partner after a grueling day. Even as his hands heated up to an excruciating degree he did not cease his action.
Oh, how you resented him.
But oh, how you resented yourself more for being a fool.
His vile smirk was the last thing you saw before your body went up in a hot flash and your vision was taken over by one color.
Blue.
By the way if you comment on a post meant to compliment a group and reply "___ is beautiful too" then I will beat the shit out of you.
If you comment on a post praising brown eyes that other eye colours are beautiful too then I am going to kill you I am going to murder you I am going to spray brown lead paint in your eyes and blind you then I'm going to edit your comments to talk about how stupid and ugly your original eye colour was
If you comment on a post about women that men exist too I am going to rip off your penis, turn it inside out, and drill a hole into you and place it back in you and attach your balls to your nipples you fucking loser
If you comment on an intersex post about perisex people I am going to mangle your genitals and put you in a public restroom at a church and you will be forced to survive the slurs they call you
If you comment on a post about autism acceptance to focus on neurotypicals too I don't even care about a creative method I'm just going to hit you with a really large bat
Random thoughts - Marvel's Jotuns and Cannibalism
You know... I just realized something while rewatching Earth's mightiest heroes.
The jotuns in that show clearly try to eat people, right?
Do you think- ...do you think Loki ever gets cannibalistic urges because of that?
I mean, Loki is a jotun, right? Or half-jotun in some universes (The universes where he's Thor's half-brother, for instance). So since Jotuns seem to have that same instinct to prey on humans and Asgardians like in the original mythology, it only stands to reason Loki would, too, right?
Obviously, this wouldn't apply to MCU Loki, because it pretty much does everything it can to characterize them as basically just 'taller icy Asgardians with blue skin'. (Or maybe it does apply, who knows, we didn't get that much world building with the nine realms in the MCU universe before phase four ruined everything.)
But for universes like Earth's mightiest, where it's blatant that they eat people?
I mean, I obviously haven't read all of the comics, so maybe something in a comic I haven't read yet disproves that, but from what I'm currently aware of? It's not impossible.
!!BLOOD TW!!
HOLY SHIT DAN VS FROM DAN VS WOAH
gore tw// we can teach you to laugh at tragedy!
gore tw//
Random story
Tw//
Fighting
Bruises
Possible derealisation?
——————————————————————————
At the Syndicate Meeting Area...
“Remember that Snowchester place we checked out a few weeks ago?”
Earlier...
Ranboo had been confused when he got an emergency call from Phil saying how there was an important meeting and it was imperative that he came but he ran over from Snowchester, leaving a still-sleeping Tubbo in their bed (having decided on a shared bed for their mansion after the constant nightmares the duo had from their pasts - allowing them to comfort the other quicker as well as it was easier for them to snuggle with Michael).
He mistaken the lava that he needed to jump into to reach said base, “I really need to write that down”, again but eventually reached the meeting place, finding him to be the last one to arrive, “I came as soon as I heard. What’s up?”
“Remember that Snowchester place we checked out a few weeks ago?”
It was obvious that Ranboo was shocked, he tried to hide it but he wasn’t very good about it, “What about Snowchester?” He asked, pulling out his communicator under the table - ready to message Tubbo as soon as he could.
“It’s became a...problem. We think it’s forming a government and so we have to take it out. First, we need to find something, anything that Tubbo holds dear enough for him to sacrifice his last life.”
Too frozen to move. Too frozen to even warn his platonic husband about the incoming threats. Not too frozen to acknowledge the hands in front of his face to snap him out of his trance, “Wha-what?”
“We asked if you know anything that could help us against the government?”
“Uhh...I need to go feed my animals.” He says before running out of the meeting and straight towards Snowchester. Unknowingly, the other people who he had been meeting with followed him. Followed him all the way to the secret.
He only noticed them when he turned around, after hearing Michael’s confused snort, in Michael’s bedroom and saw all three of them barricading the doors to the exit, “Oh no...”
“So you do know something about Tubbo and decided to hide it from us?”
Knowing that there was nothing he could do, he held Michael close to him and tried to get as much comfort as he could, “This is Michael B- Beloved, mine and Tubbo’s son. He’s adopted from the nether. Found him at the bottom of a lava lake and nobody was helping him, he followed us home.”
“I didn’t need his life story, the only time you’re allowed in Snowchester is to get your stuff then you’re never to set foot in Snowchester again.”
“I-I understand...” He waited until they left to set Michael down and quickly left the room. He knew that the stress from Techno’s visit and protecting Michael and Tubbo wasn’t good until he was alone but it was taking over. The enderstate had taken Dream’s voice because from what he had heard, Dream was the big bad guy. The source of nightmares. The juxtapositional irony. The guy named Dream giving people nightmares. He knew that the enderstate wasn’t good news but he didn’t know how bad until now. He had shown violence in the enderstate before but never up to death.
Which is why he didn’t expect to come out of the enderstate with Tubbo bloody and bruised but breathing. Immediately, he started panicking and the panic began to build until, instead of the enderstate, he gained purple particles and teleported him and Tubbo to Puffy. He didn’t explain what happened but Puffy took him anyways and began to clean him up. He quickly left to go see Michael and bring him to Puffy so he is safe and looked after. Soon after Michael was safe with Puffy, he didn’t stay like he probably should’ve but he ran. He knew he couldn’t go to Snowchester or Artic Commune so the next best place is the place where he first met the Dream voice.
He vowed never to return to this place but desperate times count for desperate measures and his desperate measure was making sure he never hurt his family again. Signs on the entrance we’re replaced by obsidian. More signs were placed to remind him of what he did. It was inevitable but after half an hour of him trapped in that box, the voice appeared.
“You almost killed him.”
“You showed them Michael”
“You only have me.”
“We can be friends.”
“They messed with your memory book, made you believe that they didn’t hurt you. Didn’t betray you. Dream was your only friend but you turned against him. They want him to be alone.”
The voice repeatedly stating lies after lies with sprinkles of truth to give Ranboo the doubt the voice needed to get into his head. Ranboo had soon realised what the voice was doing and tried to escape but breaking the obsidian with his hand was basically impossible and Ranboo was twisted to the will of the voice.
Tubbo has woken up soon after Ranboo had left, thanks to the health pots he was practically back to normal, “Ranboo?! Ranboo!” He called, remembering what the enderman had done but forgave him after he saw the dullness in Ranboo’s eyes showing that he wasn’t in control. “He left once he brought Michael here, I thought he would’ve returned but he didn’t.” Puffy had informed him while handing him the zombie piglin child.
Tubbo held him close but passed him back to Puffy, “I need to find Ranboo, can you watch him til I get back?” Puffy knew best not to anger Ranboo or Tubbo when it came to their other half or child so she quickly agreed and decided to bring Michael to see Michelle.
First stop was Snowchester, it took a awhile to search the mansion and his old base but there was no sign of Ranboo.
Next stop was the worst stop but he knew he needed the extra hands.
Quickly, he made his way to the Artic Commune but, unlucky for him, it was the one day Phil and Techno were working on a build outside. He tried to sneak to Ranboo’s old house but was quickly caught, “Tubbo we see you there, mate.”
Sighing, he went over to the duo, “I’m looking for Ranboo. He was in his enderwalk state and hurt me, a lot, but he got me somewhere safe before he disappeared. I’ve checked Snowchester and decided to look here because he counted here as his home.”
“If Ranboo’s missing then we should find him.”
“No, he is probably exploring.”
“Techno, I know you’re upset about him keeping a big secret from us but his life could be in danger.”
“This is more than a secret Phil! He betrayed us for a government!”
“We didn’t even know they were forming a government! You just assumed because Tubbo was a former president, he didn’t even want the position. It was basically forced on him. From what I could hear before I found Wilbur that day, it went from Wilbur to Tommy to Tubbo. You look at him like I did Wilbur when he first came here. You think hes like your son and that’s alright but you can’t just not try and save him because he founded a family.”
“...Fine. We search the SMP but once he’s found, he’s not welcome anymore.”
To say it was awkward is an understatement, it seemed like the longest trip to the SMP ever! Eventually they made it and began searching for the enderman.
They talked to a bunch of members who were enjoying their time but none of them had seen Ranboo today.
An hour later...
They met up at the community house and began walking to talk about potential locations but it soon directed into a different topic, “Michael has a middle name, Ranboo chose it. He said it was an ender tradition for their child’s middle names to be related to someone special to them but I’m not sure who Michael’s middle name relates to.”
“What is it?”
“Billium. Michael Billium Beloved.”
Techno immediately looked to Phil who seems sheepish, “I may have told him that your real name is Billium.” “You- ugh I’ve given up on trusting people with my secrets.” Techno groans and notices a black figure near the prison and walks over to it.
Flurries of purple surrounded Techno but he wasn’t teleported but instead the figure came closer, the particles were the only thing stopping Techno from moving. Soon enough, Techno could make out the figure.
Ranboo.
The figure was Ranboo.
Ranboo was the one near the prison and, from the looks of it, had made a big hole in the side of the prison.
Unfortunately for them, the enderstate had made Ranboo very aggressive and he began to attack Techno, causing Phil and Tubbo to try and stop him.
Inside, Ranboo screamed. He tried to stop the enderstate from hurting his friends and husband. It ended up with Techno being bruised and Phil with a broken arm and multiple bruises before the enderstate turned to Tubbo. That caused a distress in the control. Showed through the hesitant actions made by Ranboo and his dull eyes flashing like a a robot running out of batteries. One hit. One hit is all it took on Tubbo for Ranboo to take control but seemed to be struggling.
Tubbo seemed to see how Ranboo was acting now and went over to try and encourage Ranboo to take control, “Ranboo come back to us, come on Ranboo.”
“Tubbo get Sam, Sam can help. Please just get Sam.” He begs then begins calling for Sam, which Tubbo tried to stop but it was in vain as Sam came running, “Ranboo wha-? Why are you shouting?” Sam asks panicked. “Get Tubbo away, get them all away. Lock me up Sam. It’s gonna hurt things.”
“I...”
Does Sam lock up Ranboo or do they work things out?
Find out never because I’m sleep deprived and worked on this during Puffy’s stream. None of this is canon and I believe I got the Billium name from an image on Tumblr but can’t remember the @.
Hope you enjoyed and sorry for this being long, those in the tag. I’m on mobile and can’t add a continue reading.
Umbral - Masterlist
Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader
*Set prior to The Force Awakens*
Summary -
Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.
(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux’s personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can’t outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.
In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.
Contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn
Song Inspiration -
Evanescence - Afterlife
Umbral
Chapter 1 Chapter 6
Chapter 2 Chapter 7
Chapter 3 Chapter 8*
Chapter 4 Chapter 9
Chapter 5 Chapter 10
Blood of A Rose - Part 1 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)
Summary - (Y/n) is an aspiring artist, but rather than mainstream, she captures what she considers to be the beauty of death. She has been fighting with the industry and local art museums to publicize her work. Reaching negative publicity, a particular clown takes an interest.
Masterlist
Notes - I see a lot of smut with little plot to build up to it so decided to write it myself. He’s always portrayed as aggressive and hasty with it, but I took a different take on it since he’s always so methodical and takes his time with what he does and I feel like that would stay the same in the bedroom or wherever else with his wild ass. Slow and torturous smut, ladies. Let me know if you’d like a continuation of this!
Word Count - 5,602
Warning(s) - Gore, depictions of graphic art, morally ambiguous reader, smut/sexual themes, no harm to reader
Song Inspiration -
IAMX - Bernadette
Ice Nine Kills - A Work of Art
The brush stroked gracefully along the canvas, a symphony of strings playing in the background as she worked. A multitude of shades of red took precedence over the piece, hints of yellow and skin tones sprinkled in where she thought was necessary.
She cleaned off her brush and took a step back, admiring her newest work, eyeing it for flaws or hints of emptiness. When she found none she smiled to herself, untying her apron and leaving to enter the house to wash herself clean of any unwanted paint that caught her skin.
She turned on the faucet, pumping soap into her hands and began to scrub. She watched as the red began to drain down the sink, sighing in delight at the sight of it.
(Y/n) had always been captivated by the concept of death. Not in the way people feared or avoided it, but in the way she saw its eerie elegance. Growing up in a household that celebrated perfection and the beauty of life, her fascination with decay and the passage of time was met with silence, sometimes disgust.
As a child, she’d spend hours sketching wilted flowers or photographing the abandoned cemetery near their house. Sometimes she found dead animals which was always a treat for her. She found beauty where others saw only ruin and death. Her parents had tried to correct her, and her teachers had labeled her work disturbing. But (y/n) remained drawn to the delicate balance between life and death.
As she grew older, the fascination deepened, and she poured it into her art. Her paintings had always included blood in one way or another, whether it was an aging object, haunted landscapes, or human forms twisted in the stillness of death. On the other hand, her photographs captured the fleeting beauty of nature’s quiet end. The decay of a flower, the pale tranquility of a body.
However, the world around her wasn’t ready for her vision. Critics were quick to brand her work as grotesque, calling it an abomination, and galleries refused to showcase her art. News articles labeled her as disturbed, questioning her mental health rather than her talent.
But for (y/n), it was never about horror. She saw beauty in the inevitability of death, in the idea that all things must come to an end. To her, it was a reminder of the fragility of existence and the raw, unfiltered truth of the world. Yet, each harsh critique was another nail in the coffin of her confidence, driving her further into herself.
She became more reserved, speaking less in public, avoiding eye contact at exhibitions - if she even attended. She longed to defend her work, but the voices of her critics echoed in her mind, silencing her before she could even begin.
Despite the noise, (y/n) still clung to her vision, working tirelessly in the small, dimly lit studio that was the garage of the small house she currently rented. Surrounded by the eerie stillness of her creations.
She began to change into something more fitting for the colder October weather, slipping on a coat to bury her hands in and walking into the crisp autumn air. As her feet tapped through the night’s atmosphere, she closed her eyes for a moment, the smell of the dying trees and asphalt sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
She didn’t live far from the heart of Miles County, quickly reaching it and taking joy in the quietness of it all compared to the usual bustling energy during the day that she preferred to avoid.
She passed a display lined and stacked with TVs, some of them turned on and broadcasting different channels.
“- another piece was released just days ago with another overwhelming amount of negativity -“
She stopped promptly, turning her head towards one of the TVs closest to her and seeing a portrait of herself display.
“Be advised, the image is disturbing.”
Her last work was then shown. She admired it, not from an egotistical standpoint, but more from the genuine beauty of the concept.
A flower pot, chipped and cracked. An elongated and decaying finger was the stem of the flower in the pot, bloodied thorns sticking out of it every which way. Ears made up the petals, an eyeball at the center in place of a typical pistil. A radiant glow shone from behind the flower, its rays of light praising its beauty in all of its wretched glory.
Her eyes began to water as they threw out carefully constructed insults, indirect but still noticeable enough to catch.
However, what (y/n) didn’t notice was the tall, slim monochromatic figure standing behind her just feet away. Gripping the overfilled black trash bag hanging over his shoulder, he curiously watched the same TV, head tilted slightly in fascination.
She brought a balled hand up to below her nose, keeping it from running as a tear fell. Too caught up in the screen before her, she failed to notice the man that now stood next to her, watching the TV from next to her rather than behind, his bag now on the sidewalk.
Having had enough of their cruel remarks, she turned to walk back home, but gasped when she nearly collided with the strange man.
Her eyes slowly trailed up his form, landing on his white painted face, accented by the black paint around his eyes and mouth. She took in his features with curiosity and fascination, taking note of his exaggerated hooked nose, cheekbones and pointed chin.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed and quickly wiped at her tears. “I didn’t notice you there.”
His head slowly turned towards her and his mouth widened into a dramatic smile, flashing his black-coated teeth. It suddenly turned to surprise, shaking where he stood with excitement and pointing to the TV.
“You… Do you like it?” She asked, unbelieving. He nodded enthusiastically and pointed to her, then the TV, then back to her. She caught on. “Oh, um… Yeah - yeah that’s me.”
His hands shook with another wave of excitement, his hands representing the beat of his heart, then giving a chef’s kiss.
“Well, thank you,” She sniffed again. “That means a lot to me, actually.” She gave a small giggle of amusement at his mannerisms.
He then stopped suddenly, putting his hands on his hips with a disapproving look. He ran a finger down his cheek to simulate a fake tear, then pointed to her, then the TV.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it by now.” (Y/n) waved off, but the clown knew better.
He held up a finger, his mouth forming an ‘o’ with eyebrows raised, then turned to rummage through his bag. She watched curiously, wondering how this was even happening. He suddenly turned back around, presenting a rose to her with a large smile.
Again, she couldn’t help but giggle and grew bashful, her cheeks tinting red as her fingers lightly grazed his own to take the flower from him. She brought it up to her nose to smell it, a smile gracing her lips. She then felt something drip down her hand and looked down at the flower again, seeing as a drop of blood made its way down over her fingers.
“Nice touch. Thank you.” She complimented and her smile widened.
He folded his hands in front of himself, swaying as if to show he himself was bashful.
“Are you mute?” She asked curiously out of the blue.
He nodded and she smiled in understanding.
“Well, I think you’re quite charming regardless.” She spoke softly and he waved a hand at her, then raised it to his cheek as if he was blushing. Her giggles turned into laughter. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
(Y/n) watched as he looked up in thought, tapping his chin. He then stuck a finger up to show he had an idea and dipped a finger into the blood of the rose, turning to the glass pane with the TVs and began to write.
“Art?” She asked and he nodded eagerly, making her laugh once more. “It suits you.” He shrugged dramatically in response. (Y/n) sighed, looking at her watch reading 10:34. “As much as I love this interaction, I should head back home.” She looked back up at him and he pouted and looked down, then shot up with another idea.
He made a walking motion with his fingers, pointed to himself, then to her and pointed in the direction she came from.
“You want to walk me home?” He nodded.
She stood in thought for a moment, wondering if she should really trust the monochromatic clown. He seemed sweet enough, and it wasn’t a lie when she said he was charming. She couldn’t deny that there was something oddly attractive about his facial features, either.
Against her better judgment, she looked back up at him and gave a shy smile. “Okay.” Art clapped with glee and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and motioning for her to lead the way.
The walk was quiet, save for (y/n) making casual conversation every now and then. It wasn’t an awkward silence when she didn’t speak, and Art seemed to be just as content as he happily walked alongside her. She couldn’t help but sneak looks at him along the way, and though he seemed blissfully oblivious he caught every glance.
She felt a pang of pity when they reached the smaller house, walking up to the door and turning to him to see him pouting once more. “Thank you for walking me. It gets lonely sometimes, to be honest.”
He looked down, swinging with sadness at the end of their walk.
“Well,” She sighed in thought. “I mean, I suppose you know where I live now. Maybe you could visit some time? I never really have company, anyways.”
His excitement reappeared, making herself happy in the process. He nodded vigorously and she laughed for the umpteenth time.
“Be safe out there, okay?” He nodded again and waved at her as she opened the door to go inside. “Goodnight, Art.” The door closed and she leaned against it, wondering what the hell just happened.
Of all people, she befriended a clown. But it was nothing against him. She supposed she just attracted the oddballs of the world given that she was deemed one herself by society.
She mindlessly prepared for bed, running through her interaction with the man over and over repeatedly. It was the only thing she could think about. No amount of distraction would keep him from her head. (Y/n) sighed as she stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over her abdomen.
When she woke up the next morning, preparing breakfast in the kitchen as the TV hummed in the background, her ears caught something rather peculiar.
“- found dead in their home just last night after neighbors reported screaming to the police. We were told photographs of the scene are too graphic to broadcast and were not provided.”
(Y/n) walked over to the TV, seeing a picture of the news anchor who insulted her work the night before, along with his family. As much as she pitied them, she couldn’t help the tsk of her tongue when they refused to provide the photographs. She had recently been relying on such photos as inspiration for her pieces, and she couldn’t do much but grow more and more curious about them.
After eating her breakfast and freshening up, she went to her desktop computer and powered it on. Having made note of the name of the news anchor, she began to search the case in hopes that they posted the photos online and came across an image that baffled her. In the middle of the article was a sketch of the suspect.
The clown she had encountered.
She stopped reading and sat back against her chair, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. He knew where she lived, and she invited him to visit. Granted, she figured if he wished her harm, he would just bust through a window or the door itself regardless of invitations.
But then she couldn’t shake his goofy mannerisms, how he showed her more kindness in one night than anyone had in all of her (y/age) years. How he showed her how much he loved her art, giving her the rose to cheer her up.
Then she remembered. Art was with her when the news anchor was insulting her work. Now he and his family are dead.
Could he have…?
Coincidence. (Y/n) shook her head.
(Y/n) stood and made her way to the garage, checking if her latest work had dried up. To her delight, it did, and she removed it from the easel to prop against the wall holding her countless other works.
The rest of the day was wasted away, filled with cat naps, snacking and binging shows. She thought of going out and doing something for herself, but the thought of being surrounded by people immediately put her off. So she decided on lounging until the sun set and could truly be in her element.
Time seemed to mock her, dragging on and on enough to make her think that it froze altogether. But alas, the hues outside grew darker and she began to prepare for her night out.
Throwing on a sweater dress, pantyhose and her shoes, she picked up her digital camera that sat on a nearby table, hanging it around her neck before making her way outside. When she turned to face the street, she jumped at the sight of Art standing nearly directly in front of her with the same oversized bag and wide grin.
(Y/n) froze, wondering if things should change between them after finding out what he did. What he could do.
She figured it was already too late if he indeed wished her harm. He knew where she lived and could easily find her. So why should she give him further incentive? And he hadn’t done anything to her personally to be rudely snubbed. The memories of the night before ran through her head, an innocent and friendly encounter.
So she indulged herself until fate decided the outcome.
“Hey, Art.” She greeted him with a gentle smile. He waved excitedly at her, then pointed at the camera around her neck with a questioning expression. “Oh, I’m just going on a walk. Trying to see if there’s anything interesting to photograph for my next piece.”
He tapped his chin and looked off, thinking. He perked up with a finger, eagerly motioning for her to follow him. Unable to contain her curiosity, she walked up to him and began to follow.
“You know a place I could find something?” He grinned mischievously at her, a silent ‘yes’.
After some walking, they came upon an older building. The walls actively rotted away, windows broken and some boarded up. He stopped with her when she paused at the front, looking up at the building in awe.
Perfection.
She reached for her camera, but his hand quickly came over hers to stop her and heat rushed up to her face. He pulled away and motioned to the building, then placed his hand over his heart endearingly. “Is this your home?” He nodded. “Oh! I’m sorry, I won’t take pictures.”
He patted her shoulder as a thank you and motioned for her to follow once more, leading her into the building.
The smell was horrid to anyone else, but to (y/n) it was just another day of work. With the countless rotting animals and even occasional mutilated body she’s encountered, she had no choice but to grow used to it. By now, the smell reminded her of her work and provided a sense of comfort in a twisted way.
However, standing in what was the killer’s home, it also struck her like a bolt of lightning. The familiar smell of blood and rot was in his home, which could only mean one thing.
“You wanted to show me something in here, didn’t you?”
Art’s smile grew impossibly wide, pointing at her to show he was impressed that she caught on quickly. He dropped his bag and held out his hand in an exaggerated gentlemanly fashion, leg kicked out and foot up on its heel, holding the same sadistic smile when she met his eyes. (Y/n) delicately placed her hand in his, his own only grasping onto her fingers with a surprising gentleness as he led her through the dark building to a separate room.
The smell grew stronger the closer they drew to the room as more and more of the all too familiar red hues began to reveal themselves.
When they finally entered, she gasped at the sight before her. Art presented his own ‘masterpiece’ to her with excitement, taking in her every reaction.
Sat on a chair in the center of the room was the remnants of a decapitated man, chest cavity wide open. Blood covered the body from neck to toe, stains coating the walls and floor around it.
At first she was frightened, but as he presented it to her she realized something. She realized that they shared the same fascination. Granted, he had a more methodical way of showing it, but artists always vary in accordance to what mediums they used, right?
“You did this?”
Art nodded eagerly, practically vibrating where he stood as he impatiently awaited for a verbal response. As she took in the sight before her shamelessly, he urged her with his hands to spit out what she was thinking.
“It’s beautiful…” She whispered breathlessly. And it was the truth. It felt as if she was staring at a blank canvas for her to mold and create into something new, with his permission of course. The possibilities were endless as they ran through her head, too many to keep track of.
Ever observant, he took notice of the turmoil and his almost innocent excitement turned into something more wicked. Something clicked in his brain as he practically watched a butterfly emerge from its cocoon before his very eyes.
He motioned to (y/n), then to the body, then with widespread arms he motioned at them together.
“You want me to create something?” She wondered if he ever suffered whiplash from nodding so aggressively, at least with her. “May I walk around to see what you have that I could use?” Another nod.
(Y/n) looked around the room, finding it completely empty besides the chair and body. She then left to wander, Art following her like a lost puppy, eager to watch her work. After searching through three other rooms, she finally found a flower pot. It had a chunk missing from the back, but she could easily turn it to where it wasn’t visible.
She turned to Art. “Do you have a cup or something to fill it with dirt?” He thought for a moment, then gave her a sign to wait before disappearing.
Her eyes wandered around what she assumed used to be a bedroom. An old mattress in the corner with an equally rotting dresser, nightstand and standing mirror.
When he reappeared, he held out a tin can to her and she gladly took it, making their way outside with the pot to fill it. He watched as she did so, taking note of the way she avoided getting herself dirty. He silently laughed to himself, pointing at her as her dainty hands refused to muddle with the soil. “What?” She questioned with her own chuckle.
He mimicked her avoiding the dirt and grime as he continued to laugh and she rolled her eyes.
“The work I showcase does not reflect my behavior. You’d be surprised how much I hate getting dirty.” (Y/n) giggled as she finished filling the pot, mindful of the missing chunk so as to not let any dirt spill. “Where did you get the rose from yesterday? Was it around here?”
He motioned for her to follow, looking back at her every now and then as he led her around the building to the back. A single rose bush was planted with only a few fully-bloomed flowers left intact. He offered to cut one of them off, and doing so he held it delicately to himself.
“Could you hold this for a second?” She held out the pot to him and he nodded. “Careful of the back, I don’t want anything to spill.” He nodded again and watched as she wandered, looking around for other plants to add to the pot. She settled on a few weeds, picking a handful of petals off of the other roses on the bush before heading back to the room with Art.
He softly set the items down in the corner as she cradled the petals in her hand, looking at the body with a tilted head. Art stood next to her, mimicking her mannerisms as he tried to understand what she was thinking of. He watched as her mouth moved to speak, but nothing followed until a few seconds after.
“Um…” She pointed to the body, looking at it for a few more seconds before turning her head to him. “Could you, um…” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you could do a couple more things to it for me?”
His face twisted into mischief, as if to say ‘I thought you’d never ask’. His palms pressed against each other, fingers twiddling as he waited for what she wanted.
“Could you flatten the top and remove the um…” She motioned to the abdomen. “What’s inside…?” His mouth made an ‘o’ in a surprised expression before shifting into the same smile, booping her nose before leaving the room, she assumed to grab supplies.
He soon returned with a hacksaw and scissors, making his way to the body to do what she asked. Her stomach grew queasy once he began and she averted her gaze out of habit.
The noise suddenly stopped and she looked back to see him standing upright with a frown. She felt a pang of fear and dare she say guilt, thinking he was offended.
“I-I’m sorry, I love the end result, but I just get squeamish with the process, is all…” She whispered almost pitifully.
He watched as her face paled and she was left baffled when he made his way over to her, saw still in hand. However, he simply pushed her out of the room into a wide open area that was further away, holding up a finger to tell her to wait before he disappeared to finish.
Her face grew hot at the gesture, stomach fluttering as a bashful smile reached her lips. When (y/n) turned, she was met with a workbench, worn stool sat in front of it. She wandered over with curiosity, eyeing the rusted tools, nails and screws that sat on top of it.
A few jars were scattered along the back of it against the wall, reading the labels. Most of them were some form of acid, others she refused to guess the result of the compound mixture.
(y/n)’s eyes lit up when she found small circular candles akin to what would be put in a pumpkin, grabbing a couple along with a match from a box sat next to them and put them in her pocket.
She jumped when the sound of metal clattering to the floor invaded her ears and she whipped around to find Art standing there, saw next to his comically large shoes. He waggled his fingers at her in a wave, motioning for her to head back to the room to which she obeyed. She passed him with the same bashful smile, remembering his kindness from earlier.
When she entered, she saw that he did indeed do as she asked and turned to Art with a wider smile. “Thank you.” The clown tipped his hat and she giggled. “Could you hold these please?” She asked of the petals and he held out his cupped hands for her to place them in.
Eyes following her like a cat, he watched as she knelt by the pot, planting the rose in the center of it followed by the other plants she picked along the way, standing and making her way to the body. She placed it in the now empty cavity of the abdomen, then turned to take the petals back from Art. She sprinkled them over the body, some inside where the pot was.
She then pulled out the candles, placing them methodically inside the abdomen, making a point to avoid touching the body itself. Igniting the match, she lit the candles and stood, looking for the light switch to turn off the overhead lights. Art caught on and immediately turned them off somehow. (Y/n) looked at him with a confused expression to which he just shrugged with a wide grin.
She shook her head and giggled, lifting the camera from around her neck, checking the settings before testing different angles through the lens, snapping photos when she came upon the ones that satisfied her. (Y/n) made her way next to Art who shook his hands with excitement.
He stood against her with their closeness, practically his entire side brushing against her from behind as he looked down at the photos she clicked through. The beat of her heart picked up, blood rushing to her ears at the realization.
“Which one do you think is best?” She asked softly, turning to look up at him to see him already looking at her.
The candlight shone ominously against his features, pale eyes piercing through her own, her smile dropping as his nose nearly touched her own. His eyebrows quickly rose and dropped, head turning as his eyes squinted with his smile. His hand slowly rose, carefully prying the camera from her hands and setting it down. As he stood back to his full height, she craned her neck to look up at him, their bodies slowly turning to face each other until he took a step towards her, (y/n) taking a step back.
Taking his time, he walked her back until her body was pressed against the wall and his figure was the only thing in her field of view. Her breath shook as his bloodied fingertips reached up to caress her jaw, settling delicately under her chin to hold her gaze.
He leaned closer, tilting his head as his nose tickled her face. The hand under her chin then moved down to her neck, his feather-like touch changing pressure as it wrapped itself around her, increasing just enough to make her gasp and he finally closed the gap between them.
The kiss was surprisingly tame for how brutal he was, her eyes closed as she gave in to the intoxicating feeling and the only thing she could think of or feel was the man that held her. As for him, his eyes remained open, taking in and savoring her every expression.
The expressions of the same twisted mind that complimented his own work, turning it into breathtaking beauty that was beyond comparison. His mannerisms grew more eager, more desperate at the thought of whatever else they could create together, his free hand finding her waist and squeezing enough to release air from her lungs audibly, a plea for more.
His tongue slid against her teeth and she welcomed the invasion, parting her mouth to take him in as his hand ran over the hump of her arse, fingers digging into the fat and muscle enough to bruise. His wanton thoughts grew to become an obsession, anger rising at the thought of her parting from his life.
Their breath mingled, his mouth moving down to her jaw, then to her pulse point where he bit down just enough to release a trickle of blood and she cried out, hand squeezing his forearm of the hand still wrapped around her neck. As he sucked at the blood, the hand moved from her neck down to her breast, kneading and toying with it as her head leaned back, swaying at the pleasure.
Her leg lifted as his other hand slid from her arse down her thigh, hugging it close to him as he shifted his leg to apply pressure at her core. He pulled away from her neck, teeth still bared in its grin but his eyes clouded with lust and greed as he took her in. Her lips were parted with need, vulnerable and exposed before him in a gamble of trust and fate.
She felt his leg shift and she whined, a shiver running down her spine once she finally opened her eyes to look up at him. The sight before her sent a pulse to her center, clit throbbing as his hand slid down from her breast to her hip, her eyes following as he slowly dropped to his knees before her.
The thigh he previously held was now over his shoulder, hands sliding the skirt of her dress up to her hips to bury his nose into her clothed pussy. She sighed at the feeling, hands moving to hold the skirt for him. Suddenly, she heard a rip, cold air hitting her core as he tore her pantyhose open to reach her.
(Y/n) watched as he looked up at her with a mischievous grin and wiggled his eyebrows, disappearing back under her skirt when she felt his warm muscle drag along her leaking center. She felt his breath fan over her, his nose tickling her bud as his tongue dipped into her, teasing her entrance before plunging into it.
The woman gasped and her back arched as he toyed with her, her hand coming down to grip one of his own that squeezed at her thighs. He shook his head eagerly as he continued his feast and she moaned at the action, rolling her hips against him. His tongue then removed itself, moving to settle on her clit and she trembled at the sensitivity.
His free hand inched towards where his tongue had been, playing with her lower lips and providing a tickling sensation before he dipped a finger in, pushing to the knuckle. His finger began to move in rhythm with his tongue, practically digging into the spongy area that drove her mad with desperation.
She let go of his hand when she felt him move it, followed by the sound of a zipper coming undone as he pulled out his hardened member, continuing to chase her high and begging to himself to hear her scream.
She felt the coil begin to build and tense up, her heart racing as her skin grew hot in anticipation. The two of them locked eyes and his own squinted, encouraging her to fall over the edge. His gaze alone was enough, her chest heaving as she leaned her head back against the wall with a cry.
She struggled to catch her breath, panting and watching Art with a fucked-out expression as he rose to his feet with a deep hunger in his eyes. Her eyes flicked down to his erection, then back up at him with brows knit in anticipation. He slipped an arm behind her, pulling her in to press her against him.
Holding her gaze, he teased his member against her entrance, brow twitching as she tried to move against his strength. His smile suddenly dropped as he impaled her with his length, mouth open as he mocked her expression with great pleasure. His grin returned as she gripped onto his shoulder, one of her legs moving to hook around his waist.
He snatched her chin when her eyes began to close, forcing her to watch him as he began to set an agonizingly slow pace. He wanted to hear her beg. Needed to hear her beg. His cock twitched at the thought of it and she moaned.
“Art…” She called breathlessly and he tilted his head to listen. “Please…” The word shook as it left her lips. The leg hooked behind him pulled him in closer and his mouth twitched as she pleaded him once more.
He lifted her other leg to wrap around him, carrying her as if she was weightless, his display of strength only deepening her arousal and need as both of her hands settled behind his neck. He suddenly began to plunge into her repeatedly, a feral noise escaping from her throat as he watched on with animalistic desire.
He angled their bodies effortlessly, paying attention to her every expression and vocal flux in order to throw her over the edge for a second time. Her moans heightened their pitch, growing louder as her grip on him tightened and his eyes somehow darkened further, thrusting harder and harder with an inhuman amount of strength and stamina.
“Art -“ He gave a single nod with a sadistic grin as (y/n)’s hands shifted to his shoulders, nails digging into the satin of his suit before she crossed over into her orgasm. One of his hands snatched her jaw, slightly squeezing at her cheeks as their noses touched. He practically stared into her soul as he soon found his own release, baring his teeth as she felt his warm stream of seed fill her.
She sighed in exhaustion as Art silently huffed to himself. He then brought his head next to hers, licking the shell of her ear.
His mind was made up. Her fate was sealed.
Spoilers for Magnus Protocol Episode 18
“Could you imagine though? You turn up to the TV station all like “I have a job for you Mr Bonzo” and he’s all like “Bonzo Bonzo Bonz...”
