#the devil inside

XXXX

You tear into the room to find a man—taller than Parker, pale with dark eyes and hair—holding Parker’s chin. The embrace is close, and that tall man speaks so softly.

Parker wears that damnable hood.

“I’ll tell you what. If you manage to hold on to what I gave you. I’ll consider giving you some more. Okay?”

“Parker?”

The pair freeze, both turning toward you in mirror of each other. You’ve broken up an intimate sort of moment. Parker’s eyes go wide but the taller man shares a sloping smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Who’s your little friend,” he releases Parker’s chin with a soft caress, but his eyes remain fixed on you, “Mister Robbins?”

Your gaze flits between him—suspenders hefted over broad shoulders—and Parker. The younger man’s jaw is clenched so tight it’s quivering, but he manages to grit through clenched teeth, “What are you doing here?”

You stop, hazy on that detail all of a sudden. “I don’t. Remember?”

Parker squints, confusion creasing his brow.

The older, bearded man murmurs to you, “What’s your name, doll?”

His eyes are magnets, and you can’t look away. Your mouth opens almost against the will of your mind: a rogue operator. There’s a tingling looseness in your body, centred on your hips. A dissolving of muscle from bone, like you’ve had too much red wine. 

Or maybe, just the right amount.

You’re vaguely aware of blinking at him, dazedly. “I’m—”

“Wait!”

Parker yells and the sound punctures the air. You look at him, his physical form emerging out of a fog you don’t think was there before. It couldn’t have been there before. His arm is outstretched, thrown to you like a life rope, as if he could catch your name in his hands and stop this—stranger—from ever hearing of it.

“What’s—?”

“Don’t,” Parker side-eyes the older man, then looks back at you, “tell him. Don’t talk to him, baby. Don’t even look at him. Look at me.”

His jaw is tight; brow lifted imploringly. He doesn’t look himself, with more sickly burgundy veins protruding from his skin along his cheek. You want to take his hand and run, but something else fills your shoes with lead and glues your feet to the floor.

Parker inches closer—arms out, palms up, back to the wall—keeping one eye on you and the other on the taller, older man. No sudden, careless moves. Nothing to accidentally alert the predator.

An icy trickle of fear runs down your spine. You whisper at Parker urgently, “What’s going on?”

You blink and the man is right on top of you. You startle and jump back. Impossible trick! You can’t see Parker anymore.

The man towers, but his hands are tucked inside his pockets. Too many shirt buttons undone to count. Soft, wavy curls graze his wide shoulders.

He says, “‘Ello, dolly.”

You blink at him, stupefied. His eyes are inky black wells you could just fall right into. 

“Mmh. You must be very special.”

That low murmur, sinfully seductive. The kind of voice that could lure you into a dark and endless forest; walk you into a cold and bottomless pool. It’s the voice that all the big bad wolves in the fairytales have, made manifest in a tall and dangerous… man?

You stammer, “I’m not… anything.”

The man regards you, head tilting in thought. “Tell me why I don’t believe that.”

A voice in the back of your head, shouting Parker’s name, but from some distance away. Muffled, as if yelled through a brick wall. Parker’s here, isn’t he? In this room? Where is he? You should find him.

“Yes,” the man encourages you, “you mean something to him, don’t you?”

Your lips part, your gaze catching on the knot of cartilage bobbing partway up the long column of his throat. You want to lick a line up that elegant neck, and other things besides. You answer him breathily. “Yes.”

He speaks even softer. “What is that I see in your eyes, dolly bird?”

Your gaze falls to his lips, his mouth almost hidden beneath that heavy beard, and your wet tongue darts out to moisten your dry bottom lip. You could sink to your knees for this man, and you don’t even know his name. 

“I want to…” You look into his midnight eyes, and the sharp pang of desire burns hot through your veins—heating your chest and neck and cheeks. “I think I want you.”

He smiles again, crooked and teasing with half his mouth and crinkling eyes. “What a delight for me.”

“Get away from her.”

Parker. Yes, Parker! Where—?

The older man speaks over his shoulder. “I don’t think she wants me to get away from her, mate.”

There’s a sudden flash in your vision. You see this scene outside of yourself, but sped up. The stranger further away, then closer in the blink of an eye, then Parker running. He yells, “No,” and plants himself in front of you.

Parker races up beside you, inserting one shoulder between you and the taller man. “I said no.”

“Are you two serious, then?” the bearded man says, undeterred.

Your head spins. You had a whole conversation with this man moments ago, but the flashing, speeding replay in your head looked nothing like that. Your stomach twists, that zero gravity roller coaster feeling. “What are you doing to me?”

The man inclines his head, looking over Parker’s shoulder at you. He hums. “Sorry, darling. Can be a bit of a pill for the uninitiated.”

“He can, do things,” Parker interjects, his head turned towards you but his eyes trained on the stranger. “‘S why I said don’t look at him.” 

Parker’s muttered explanation leaves you with more questions than answers. “What things?” Time things?

“‘What things?’ she says,” the taller man mumbles jokingly, quirking a brow at Parker. To you, he says, “I’m so very glad you asked.”

Another flash, a snap, a single blink—and everything’s changed.

“How long’ve you known our dear Mister Robbins?”

You don’t have your bearings. It’s the same room but there’s a bed against one of the mercury glass walls, made up with a deep red bedspread. And you and Parker stand at the foot of it, undressed but for your underwear.

You swallow, stalling to get your footing, but there’s that buzzing, that unnatural tang in your mouth like after an x-ray. The tall stranger leans against the opposite wall: fully clothed, without so much as a hair out of place. Even a simple glance at him returns that warm floating feeling to the tips of your fingers and toes. You realise that you don’t care that you’re next to naked. You don’t care what he’s seeing. You want him to look.

The older man cocks his head to the side. “Has it been a while, dolly?”

Well, now. Such a turn of phrase could mean a great many things, couldn’t it? 

You look at Parker—swirling black tattoos on warm tanned skin, that solidly muscled body you’ve run your fingertips over many times. His hair is tied back, like he does when he’s practising his forms. You lock eyes.

“Hm. The Lovers.” The taller man smiles. “What a pair you two pretty people make.”

Parker holds your gaze. You know what he’s thinking, almost like you can hear his thoughts in your own head. You see it in the stiff set of his shoulders and the firm line of his mouth. How crazy this is. How dangerous this is.

How badly he wants you, right the hell now.

“Now, Mister Robbins.” The older man lifts off the wall, strolls over to you. He stands close by Parker, leaning in. “You’ve kept this woman a secret from me.” He glances at you. “I personally think, that’s quite rude.”

“Baby,” Parker says, gazing into your eyes, “we can leave. Right now. We don’t gotta do this, or anything you don’t want.”

“Ha!” The man scoffs a laugh. “Anything she doesn’t want. Look at her.” He shifts behind Parker, leans over the shorter man’s shoulder, murmurs in his ear. “Really, now. Look at her.” The pair of them ogle you steadily, twin gazes raking up and down your body, catching on your eyes. “D’you really think she doesn’t want this, mate?”

Parker angles his head. “Talk to me, baby. ‘Cause I,” he folds his lips between his teeth, shakes his head, “I don’t think I can control it. I need you to tell me—”

“Don’t.”

Silence fills the still room, lingering for a long moment. Then, the stranger’s eyes glimmer like onyx. Parker’s brow furrows. 

One of them knows what you’ve just gone and said, and for the other, you say, “Don’t, Parker.” You reach up, toying with the fastening on your front-close bra. “Don’t control it.” You shift the clasp until it undoes with a tiny plastic click.

The taller man appears before you, sudden as a lightning strike. His gaze is trained on your chest. He lifts one hand, and gently runs cool fingertips down over your breasts. “That is precious, that,” he murmurs softly. Then he gets behind you and says, “This one won’t be as bad, darling.”

A flashing beam in your sight, over as quickly as it appears. Like one of those flip books you drew in school. 

You blink the after-image away and the older man coos into your ear, “Good girl.” From behind, he takes the straps of your bra in his hands and glides them gently down your shoulders, like he’s sliding a jacket off your back. Your bare breasts revealed to Parker, he places his hands around your waist.

“I think that’s your cue, lad.”

A rapid flash—another major shift and change. You’re flat on your back on the bed that wasn’t there before, with Parker standing between your legs. The pair of you are completely naked. The tall stranger is at your side, reclining on one elbow.

“Mmff,” Parker grunts. He slides the weeping head of his dick through your pussy lips, parting the seam.

“My, my,” the older man croons, skimming a hand down your belly. “Seems like you’ve got a pretty little hood of your own, dolly love.”

His fingertips nudge your swollen clit and you gasp. Parker sinks the head of his cock into your slippery pussy—stretching you open, making you shiver.

“Please. Yes.” But who you’re pleading with is a mystery. Either of them? Both?

“Feels so good, baby,” Parker sighs. He’s building to a rhythm, but he can’t bring himself to ravish you just yet. He takes it slow. Wants to savour the silky feel of your pussy wrapped around his throbbing cock. Needs to watch your eyes roll back as you take every thick inch.

The man at your side glides two fingers down either side of your puffy clit, almost massaging, softly squeezing. It makes you liquid, makes you melt. You look at him, panting open-mouthed right in his face.

He murmurs, “That’s quite nice, isn’t it, dolly?”

“Yeah.” High-pitched. Pathetic.

Parker watches your pussy lips suck his cock as he pushes in and draws back, over and over. It’s hypnotically rhythmic. He can’t stop sighing, the breathy sounds tumbling from his lips.

“So hot inside, baby,” he praises. “So wet on my dick.”

You moan his name. Your body feels so hot your skin itches. It’s no longer a matter of oxygen and carbon—you breathe desire, in and out. The older man rubs your swollen bud between two fingers while the younger one fills you to the brim with his fat cock.

You cry out, shamelessly indulging in the pleasure.

The man murmurs into your ear, soft and deliberate on every slick syllable. “That’s right, doll. I’m here and I’m going to stroke your pretty clit until you fuck-ing gush, darling.”

Your breath catches when you try to speak, your thighs twitching. It feels so good, stupidly so. You lock eyes with Parker and a shiver runs up your spine. There’s some electric charge, some current sparking where your bodies are joined–sparkling and brilliant. Heat on the air, heat behind his hazel eyes.

“Fuck me, Parker,” falls from your mouth, breathy and desirous for those forces of physics to wreak havoc on your slick and pulsing pussy. The push, the pull—the friction and the tension and the springing freedom.

Parker’s lips part at your demand. His eyes are trained on yours, a deep and heavy stare. “I’ma fuck you, baby,” he promises.

Then he really starts to drill you. Like he’s magnetised from the leaking tip of his dick to the end of your pussy wall. Deep, deep, deep. More than physically possible, it seems. The deepest you’ve had from him yet. His hips buck and bounce off your body, round ass squeezing to get every inch coated and sheathed.

The taller man rubs at your clit, the squeezing slide of his digits giving way to big sweeping circles of his fingertips. It’s a dizzying mix, one that kicks your orgasm into first gear.

“God,” you moan, “that’s it. Please, yes. Make me cum.”

A grunt from Parker, a sly, lop-sided smile from the older man. He leans in closer, nuzzling the point of his nose against your ear. The gentle touch is far too delicate when such wild things are coursing through your veins, inducing delirium.

“Do it for me now,” he says. A command, but softly spoken. He’s patient with the words, letting them roll out languidly and swirl into your ear, landing deep in your brain to take root and bloom there.

You cum with a high and keening squeak, shocked at the force of it. Triggered by the touch of deft fingers and the persistent push of Parker’s thick length. Trembling through it, your clit pulses against the older man’s fingers and your pussy squeezes Parker’s cock—and he groans desperately.

“Good,” the man murmurs into your ear. “Won’t be long.”

In an instant the man is gone from your side. He glides behind Parker, running a hand along the younger man’s tattooed shoulders. He murmurs into Parker’s ear, “I want you to fuck her like it’s your last night on this Earth.”

He skims both palms up Parker’s solid sides, then runs his fingertips teasingly over Parker’s nipples. 

The younger man moans softly, brow creased, gripping hold of your hips tightly. You know it takes so much for him to hold on when you cum all over him, and he fucked you through your orgasm like he was going for a medal for it. Even now, the push of his dick is extra wet, a super smooth glide, making your pussy make noise.

You have to bite your lip as desire and arousal churn deep in your belly all over again.

The older man takes hold of Parker’s hips as he leans over his shoulder. The stranger looks down the toned planes of Parker’s abdominals to where your pussy petals bloom around his burrowing dick.

“My, my,” the stranger says appreciatively. “What a pretty cunt.” - and you stifle a groan, poorly. 

Hands resting on Parker’s bucking hips, the man murmurs in his ear. “Show her all the things you can do to her body with that big cock.”

Parker groans, a raspy and scuffed up sound. He thrusts harder, squeezes your hips tighter, his hips landing with greater force.

“What d’you think, dolly bird?” the older man says. “Does he feel… bigger?”

A moment later… and your jaw drops open. Parker’s eyes go wide and he swears. There’s a new heft, a new length and weight inside you. The fresh stretch glazes your eyes over.

“H-how?” you squeak.

The man’s mouth splits into a smile, lines around his mouth and eyes crinkling. To Parker, he says, “And you, Mister Robbins? Is she hotter? Wetter?”

A sudden bursting warmth rushes you—an orgasm in miniature—and you gush, silky slick, all over Parker’s plunging cock one more time. It feels like a wet dream—like it is your body, but it isn’t. Different. Otherworldly. Tingling and liquid down to the tendons that bind your muscles and bones into a single human form. 

“Fuuck,” Parker groans, like it pains him. “How did you—? Shit, think I’m ‘bout to blow, baby.” He’s panting, huffing and puffing and you spot the beads of sweat along his hairline and down his inked chest.

“Hm. He’s just a boy, in’t he?” The man is at your side again. “He’ll bust his nut soon as you look at him, won’t he?”

“I’m—oh, fuck,” Parker winces, eyes squeezed shut like he’s concentrating real hard. Probably trying to block out the sounds of slick skin meeting. “I can’t, s-stop it, baby.”

“Parker.” You reach out and grab Parker’s wrist, moaning his name and telling him it’s okay. 

The stranger hums low and murmurs in your ear. “Mmh. You need a man, doll.”

Parker’s orgasm overwhelms him with a strangled groan. He unloads into you, shudders of euphoria forcing short, staccato streams of cum shooting up his twitching length and out the tip—deep, deep in your insides.

“Alright, lad,” the taller man nods as Parker finishes. He pulls Parker back by the shoulder and takes his place between your spread legs.

Parker falls to the bed beside you, catching his breath. He kisses you breathlessly, moaning at the soft, wet touch of your lips and tongue, and when he has to stop for air he curls into the curve of your neck.

In front of you, the stranger roughly tugs down his suspenders, and the look in his inkwell eyes is pure devilry. Your insides flutter, stomach swarming with butterflies because you know what’s coming next and you’ve wanted it since he first asked you for your name.

The man grabs your hips and yanks you down the bed, closer to him at the edge for the next act in his performance. Seeing him futz with his pants—the buttons and zips and trunks that conceal the prize between his legs—is a pleasure all of its own. 

In a moment of clarity, you’re aware he could just ‘click his fingers’ or whatever he does that snaps and slows time, and simply strip everything off in one quick blink of the eye without any messing around. But this is a show. He’ll let you wait and watch and drip for him, because it’s anticipation that seduces, more than almost anything else.

Watching him finally prise his heavy cock free from his pants makes your mouth water. Unlike Parker’s pigmented, velvety smooth dick, with subtle green veins and a tapered head that angles slightly to one side, this man’s prick is a beast. Pale and muscular looking, longer and thicker than Parker’s naturally splendid endowment. It’s corded with dark blue veins that bulge the shaft and a fat, flared, raspberry-drop head.

You catch yourself staring. You glance back up to the man’s face and he’s smirking, having watched you gazing at his cock with an open, damn near drooling mouth.

“Catching flies?” he quips, one black brow quirked into a teasing arch.

You try to shake your head—at least, you’re sure that’s the signal your brain sends out. But what happens instead is you give up halfway, and end up pleading pitifully instead. “Will you make that fit in me?”

Parker shifts beside you, mouthing at your neck, his low rasping voice murmuring praises.

The man grins. He takes hold of the monster hanging pendulously between his pale thighs. Slowly, he presses his beastly cock to the slick space where your body yields. He breaches your pussy, probing your insides with the candy-red head of his cock, making you blossom around him. 

The stretch is nothing short of decadent: a wine headily-sweet, a dessert so rich your jaw aches. 

On that first sinking, the man gasps and sighs. It’s a long and awed sound. You don’t even care if it’s put on or not, because he says—“There’s Daddy’s little dolly girl.”—and your brain blows a fuse. 

Shorted out, circuit fried. There’s nothing in your head, not a damn word. Utterly blank, a liminal space empty and ready to be filled full of him. 

But then he pulls back, slides in, and your mind re-wires itself with zaps and clicks. Parker’s hands skim your body, warm fingers grazing and pulling the stiff tips of your nipples. 

Eyes watering, you’re sizzling from the inside out as the man—Daddy—buries his monstrous cock in your pussy, again and again and again. It shouldn’t work. It doesn’t matter. Your body is electric, it feels like you’re floating. Zinging and dripping and laughing at gravity.

The man hums and sighs as his dick disappears into your flooded pussy, super soaked and squelching. An obscene thing. You’d flush with embarrassment if you weren’t already boiling, the cells and atoms of your sanity rising into the air like water droplets in vapor.

“Tight in this dolly cunt,” he murmurs heavily, making space for himself inside you with every plunge. He’s sunk to the hilt, easing you open, cracking you apart in body and mind. 

His name is on the tip of your tongue, knocking against your teeth to get free. “Fuck, yeah. Give it to me.” 

The man flicks you a glance—deep charcoal eyes absorbing the light. But there’s a shimmer in them, moonlight on the ocean, and his bearded mouth curls into a cunning smile. 

A quick snap, more sudden and jarring than before because your position is so different than it was a heartbeat ago. No longer on your back but kneeling on the bed, a new picture is painted as you take in the changes.

Daddy behind you, already angling into your hot, wet pussy. You can see his reflection in the hazy sepia mercury glass, his eyes downcast as he parts your pussy lips with his barrelling cock. 

It makes you gasp so hard you hiccup, this new spearlike slant. Your gaze slides to the body in front of you—Parker. Warm hazel eyes gazing into yours, one hand at your neck and the other pressing to your clit. “Le’s go for two. Yeah, baby? Can you do it again for me?”

You don’t have time to answer before the man pulls you by the hips further down onto his cock. 

You feel him in your guts.

He starts to pump his hips; long, sawing drags of his titan cock that make stars burst in your vision. “Give it to you, hm?” Daddy murmurs in your ear. “Does this give it to you, doll?”

The answer explodes from your mouth, a bird loose from its cage. “Yes, Daddy,” you blurt, your voice choked and choppy.

His fingers sink into your hips, clenching hard. The crushing force matches his pistoning hips, which he speeds up with a deep groan. You hope to fuck he leaves some bruises to remember him by—on the outside, where you can see them.

Parker tweaks your clit—grasping at it, almost pinching the stiff bud between thumb and forefinger. He tells you how good you look, so hot, so sexy, how he wants to make you cum. 

You moan into his open mouth and he drinks your breath, his lips just barely brushing against yours.

Your nerves light up just like they did before, firing hot and burning. The older man is relentless. You have to brace yourself against Parker’s chest to keep yourself upright and you can barely gasp enough air.

Daddy murmurs silkily, “You’re dripping down my balls, dolly bird.”

“Fuck,” you squeak. You know you’re liquid, your molten core giving away more than any words can convey. You won’t last much longer, especially with Parker working you over, too. 

The older man is so deep, and at this slope, the evidence that Parker’s also been there starts to seep out around his cock as he drives the behemoth in and out of you. He growls, “I’ll fuck him out of you, darling.”

You whine, thrilling in the filth of the thing. You gasp that you’re close, and the man behind you starts to absolutely drill you. Pounding into your pussy with hot wet smacks of skin-on-skin. You fold a little, Parker catches you, shifting to keep rubbing at your big, swollen clit.

“I know you need to cum, baby,” Parker murmurs, pressing his words into your neck with kisses. “Just let go. Don’t think about it.”

This devil of a man plugs your pussy full with every thrust, and you doubt you can think of anything else if you even try it. All you can hear is the music of his sighs and groans, the most wicked soundtrack, and all you can feel, smell, taste is his cock as he bullies your soaked cunt.

He’s fucking you senseless.

You catch sight of him in the mirror—the unmistakable jolt of his hips, black hair falling into his face, mouth slack—and you lose it entirely.

Your moans and cries lift and lift until you scream, voice throttling in your throat, as your orgasm takes you over. You lose your goddamn mind on his cock, rocking and rolling through the spasms. You feel the tremors down to your joints, the shaking uncontrollable in your knees and shoulders. You have to brush Parker’s hand away and fall to your hands and knees on the bed, shuddering hard, riding it out on his giant dick with deep and guttural groans.

“That’s it,” Daddy grunts. “Take it, doll.” His climax rolls through him and his hips jerk against your backside, dumping all of his hot, sticky cum as far inside you as it can go in gush after steaming gush from the tip of his cock. 

You can’t stop cumming. Your pussy walls massage his vascular cock and your clit pulses and you can’t move, stuck on his dick like an animal caught in a trap. You can only moan and groan and pant and sigh as your orgasm winds down.

And when you’re finally done, he slips from your body and you collapse on the bed. Loose and limbless, liquid warm and utterly spent. Vaguely, as you come back down to Earth, you’re aware of Parker gently rubbing your back.

And in a flash—it’s all gone.

You and Parker stand alone in the mirrored room. No bed, no tall stranger. You stumble on jelly legs, but Parker catches you. Holds you, and you tuck your face to the crook of his neck.

“Who was that guy?” Your mumbled words are muffled against his skin. And it’s only one of many, many questions, but the easiest to ask right now.

Parker cradles the back of your head. You don’t see his face, but you hear the venom in his voice when he says, “Someone we might have to see again soon.”

XXXX

Coldfire Trilogy

Focus: Gerald Tarrant, Damien Vryce, Hesseth, Karill

Backstory/character study for these characters and their developing relationship. They're fascinating and I would love to see more of them, either individually or as a group. Happy post-canon scenes?

Shades of Magic

I have a lot of affection for the White London gang and it makes me sad that three of the four here are dead. I've read Fragile Threads of Power so you can draw from that material as well.

Holland: I adore this tragic disaster of a man. Early years with Alox before things go bad? Or maybe the red flags he only recognizes in hindsight? The first meeting with Talya and the joy he had there? What about the years he spent in the Kosik alone, was he completely isolated or trying to help his community? Was he always an outsider or did some of them cautiously aknowledge the good he was trying to do? I would love to see Holland's four months as king and how he tried to fix things while juggling Osaron's slow corruption of him. Or perhaps how White London recognizes him as the Someday King after his death?

Holland/Vortalis: Canon divergence where the Danes fail? A different first meeting? How do they go from cautious allies to lovers? Can they save Makt the morally right way or would Vortalis become more like the Danes (just less sadistic)? In what ways does Holland grieve Vor's death during the Dane era and his own kingship? Would also love any happy moments during Vor's rule.

Holland&/Ojka: how did they first meet? What was it about her that made him choose her as his knight (aside from being the only one that didn't die from the man-made Antari experiment)? Something romantic develops during Holland's rule? An AU where they both live and continue ruling?

Nasi: this girl seemingly spent years in the castle under the Dane years. How did that come to be? Was she the only child in the castle? Did Holland ever try to shield her from the Danes and was she aware of it? Anything with her and Ojka would be cute. Or how she goes from the quiet girl in the main trilogy to the confident teen in Threads.

The Devil Inside:

This is a strange obscure computer game from 2000 that is half Resident Evil, half The Running Man (or whichever live reality tv comparison works best). This review gives a pretty good overview of the game. Here's the old manual url if the Archive comes back online in time.

We have Dave the paranormal investigator who has a literal she-devil inside of him. How did that come about? Did he actively make a demon deal or is this a Venom 2018 situation where she tried to possess him and they eventually formed an equal relationship? Also there's some gender fuckery potential with him having an inner female demon whose name is an acronym of his.

Jack T. Ripper: slimeball host who somehow managed to turn Dave's story into a successful live show. How did that happen? Has he formed a reasonable contract with the duo or is this a more dystopian setting where he basically "owns" Dave/Deva? The way Jack repeatedly calls him 'babe' opens up some room for smutty/dark implications.

Worldbuilding: the scraps of it are interesting and there are a variety of things that can be done with it. Deva is presented as a succubus who serves Satan by killing other demons and monsters. You can lean into the Christian demon influence or toss it out entirely for the sake of an interesting fic premise (ex: Deva shares a similar name with the Zoroastrian 'gods to be rejected'; maybe she's some kind of ancient Sumerian demon and is called a succubus for branding purposes).

Killer7:

This is such a surreal confusing game and I love it.

Dan has the most substantial backstory with his twisted relationship with Curtis and while I adore his chaos, I think the others deserve similar love; Hand in Killer7 offers more tidbits if you can access it.

What's it like for the Smiths on a dull non-working day? Do they just hang out in Garcian's head or can they physically exist in the same place to chill? Do Emir's memories ever slip through before Garcian remembers? What's he up to post-canon?

Charles Jenkins series:

Charles Jenkins, Viktor Federov

I formed an unexpected affection for this spy novel, mostly for the combo that is aging mostly-retired Jenkins and affable wildcard Viktor. They're on opposing sides in book 1 with an almost flirty dynamic, reluctant allies repeatedly saving each other in book 2, and despite a smaller role Viktor is still essential in book 3. There's a lot of potential is what I'm saying.

Also Viktor never got that promised coffee date which I think is a shame.

The King Must Die:

I have recently been getting into mythology retellings. I read this one years ago and while I definitely enjoyed it, I don't remember many details. Here is your chance to write pretty much anthing you want with Theseus, just make sure to give some context. :)

Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters

Typical witch hunting adventure? The early years right after the first witch tried to kill them? Just the siblings being painfully codependent?

(Fine with platonic, romantic, sexual, or generally incestuous.)

Prehistoric Park: