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bakubunny · 3 months

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*taps mic* ahem

tw: daddy kink n ddlg dynamics

begging dilf! katsuki to read you bedtime stories every night because you just like hearing the sound of his voice, it’s innocent…promise. you’re definitely not getting hot and bothered by it. and when his voice is all rough and tired, it definitely doesn’t take more willpower to keep from riding his thigh. you just like bedtime stories…and the best way to hear them is when he lays in bed with you. he won’t notice how fidgety you are, or how touchy you’re becoming, or how close you keep scooting, right?

would i act just a smidge bratty just to get scolded by dada?? no of course not.

this is unfair i - i left your inbox alone for once

i can hear it now

katsuki chuckles, and it rumbles in your ear, laid up against his chest. “quit yer squirmin’. ‘m tryin t’read to ya.”

“…sorry daddy,” you reply.

he kisses you on the head and continues to read. and you try, you really do try to stay still. but your fingertips curl a little tighter into his shirt as your palms get warm with every passing word. your thighs squeeze and rub together just enough for him to catch. so he stops.

“what is it, kiddo?” he asks, his voice low and jumbled in your stomach.

you do your best to ignore what’s now a subtle throb between your legs. “i’m cold.”

you’re not sure if he believes you, but he doesn’t question it.

“then snuggle up close, c’mon,” he says. katsuki draws you in closer and reaches across his body to pull one of your legs over his.

you swallow. if he didn’t know before, he does now. the damp heat radiating from your core is intense and unmistakable. still you stay silent. you don’t see his grin, but you can hear it.

“you comfy, princess?”

you nod.

“good. now where was i?…”

his voice is so warm as he picks up where he left off, and gosh does it make you feel the same way. katsuki’s hand wanders down your back as you hold one side of the book at his request. your hips buck involuntarily into his leg from the comfort of his touch and the aching need still growing in you.

“s-sorry,” you murmur.

his soft laugh fills your ear yet again. “such a needy girl tonight. i can feel it. keep goin’, little one. try n get to the end without beggin’ me to help.”

this is way more than i planned sorry

#st-stop using that name for him i-#im trying to exist in these hard times and #if that’s what he wants to be called i might just combust on the spot #im dizzy #my stomach is in knots #so fuzzy #byee 🌊🌊🌊#ur always welcome starr but good grief this one got me more than i expected #u said scolding i said but but he’s so soft #tw daddy kink #tw age play #💖#🧸#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #asks #tw dark content

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wilderflcwers · 4 months

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"For both bonobos and chimpanzees, the bodies of the dead evoke many emotions. Even if the process often begins with trauma and confusion, typically corpses shift to a liminal status; not alive, but equally not a lump of meat. They're more intensively manipulated than hunted animals, and carried for longer. In some – if not all – cases, the eaters must know what and who they're consuming. Cannibalism is very probably a powerful means by which individuals and groups process the impact not only of killings carried out on emotional impulses, but other deaths too. In other words, it's about grieving. [...] "Shift these scenarios to Neanderthals, and add into the mix their far greater cognitive sophistication, and lives that revolved around using lithics. Suddenly it's not difficult to envision how skills in carefully taking apart hunted carcasses might be transposed into a grieving process that involved butchery and cannibalism as acts of intimacy, not violation."

Rebecca Wragg Sykes, Kindred: Neanderthal Life, Love, Death and Art

#quotes #rebecca wragg sykes #kindred: neanderthal life love death and art #what could be a better way to start off this new year than #💛💛💛 cannibalism 💛💛💛#& 💖💖💖 grief 💖💖💖#this book is excellent btw if you're interested at all in neanderthals i HIGHLY recommend it #it is dense with data but the author takes care to write about it in an accessible way #& with a sense of profound wonder that suffuses everything #like even if you don't read through the whole thing i encourage picking up a copy just to peruse the little creative writing vignettes #at the top of each chapter

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bitterflames · 22 days

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inhuman immortals learning what it is to love and lose something for the first time in their existence and being Fucked Up About It For All Of Time 🥰💕

#tragedy fans when the grief is neverending and all-consuming 💖#i'm having fun with those new ocs. and by fun i mean [dying whale noises]#but also. you know. that's fun.#tropes #text post tag #verse: swordguys

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broken-hearted-lovers · 8 months

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you're losing me - late may/ early june 2023

it came around as i had the same lyric from taylor's song stuck in my head. slowly, it became a letter from the person who leaves to the other, the letter and explanation i never got in my own experience. it's also what i consider my first poem in the actual sense of the word - the first to feel like one, the first i read anyone.

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olliethescribe · 8 months

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Here’s a one-shot for @themagicbrew ‘s RotTMNT AU where Doug, Hypno’s previous magical assistant, is very much alive! He is taken in by the Earth Protection Force (E.P.F). From there he’s trained in their ways and becomes an agent in training: Agent Deacon 💖 Please check it out, you can find it here!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Caínid: Hypno visits Doug’s grave, going down memory lane. Agent Deacon keeps an eye on things.

There was something in the way Hypno carried himself that let Warren know that day had come. The slumped shoulders, the slicked-back hair that seemed to frizz out at the ends, the eye bags. So the worm waved his partner goodbye at the door and wished him well, shoving aside plans for future crimes in favor of a grocery list for dinner. Something nice. Anything to lessen the blow of mourning a friend.

—

Hypno carefully made his way through midtown and to the subway, dodging and weaving between New Yorkers that barely seemed to mind him. There’d been weirder sights in the city, especially after that near end of the world incident that he totally didn’t have anything to do with. Totally. No, he was just a guy trying his best to make it to Brooklyn along with everyone else on the R train.

Twenty minutes and several uncomfortable stares later, the magician found himself standing at the entrance to Greenwood Cemetery. The massive iron wrought gates were pulled back, the entrance lined with poppy flowers that he discreetly nicked a handful of on his way in. And up the hill and past the guard, beyond the pond littered with lily pads and mallard ducks, and just below the road of mausoleums, was the marker of a small grave.

It was well-kept, visited often in Hypno’s free time. The same old photographs of his beloved assistant adorned the headstone, laminated to protect them from rain damage. He had tried to grow a watermelon patch around the area, something to spruce the place up even further and keep it hidden from sight, but had no such luck. So he settled for magical bouquets that never seemed to die and a memorial bench that could hold the weight of an adult hippo (complete with intricate carvings accurate in detail to his old friend on the arm rests). And upon said bench he sat as he looked down upon the headstone of the best magical assistant he ever could’ve wished for.

“Kia Ora… It’s been- I know what day it is…” The first words out always felt a little awkward, a clunkiness of syllables that tore up his tongue. But no one was around to listen to him stumble; made things easier.

“Been missing ya something fierce lately. What’s it been?” He raised his gloved hand up and began to count on his fingers. “Three, no, four years since I lost ya. Would’ve saved you if I could, Dougie-wougie. You know I would. And I tried, oh how I tried.”

The magician reached for his phone, pulling up articles of research that he’d done on long nights, especially after museum heists.

“Those turtles foiled plenty of my plans, but I still managed to get my hands on an amulet of necromancy.” He smiled slightly before he sighed, expression soured. “Just wish it worked. Stole a bloody dud.”

Hypno leaned back in his seat, eyes to the clouds and ears to the trees behind him. Only sunshine and silence. There’d be better times to be upset. No, no, it was time for healing, to celebrate the good.

“But enough about that.” He looked back down at the grave of his friend with a smile. “Got some brilliant news, you’re gonna love this. Wait for it, wait for it… finally got married! Was telling ya about my Warren last time, and well, he said yes!”

He grinned, thumbing over his wedding ring as the sterling silver band set with a bright red ruby glistened in the daylight. It was absolutely stolen, snatched from some antique store, not like he minded.

“You would’ve loved it. The wedding, I mean.” Hypno pulled out a handkerchief from a near-endless supply in his breast pocket, dabbing at his eyes.

“You always were the life of the party, my multi-talented companion. Warren would’ve loved you, too. Said he wanted to be here today but there was a…” The magician trailed off, trying to remember what his husband said. “Oh, yes, right. He had a scheduling conflict. Every time those pop up I come home to a nice dinner so…”

The sentence lingered in the air, unfinished as the monologue hung. Hypno shifted in his seat, not quite uncomfortable as much as he needed time to think. Oh, what to say…

“I still see you in everything. Drives me batty, e’ry now n’ then.” Another monumental sigh escaped his lips as the bench groaned underneath him.

“Sometimes I swear I can see ya just in the corners of my vision, off in the shadows of buildings or hiding behind street lamps. Warren must think I’m cracking up with all the times I stop and turn ‘round. He doesn’t say it but he thinks it, I know he does.”

Hypno’s ears flicked up as a rustle came from the tree-line behind him, turning in his seat to catch a glimpse of whatever could be out there. He scanned the area as he heard another crunch of leaves, not quite fussed enough to pull out his razor rings but keeping them at the ready just in case. A figure moved rapidly out of the shadows.

It was a mourning dove.

They were common in the area, especially abundant in late spring to early fall. The magician smiled slightly at his newfound feathered companion and tossed some bird seed its way.

“Maybe I’m just paranoid.” He turned back to Doug’s grave and pat the stone, slightly cold despite its placement in the sun. “Maybe I miss you too much for my own good.”

There was another shuffle among the trees that he opted to ignore, not wiling to jump at every bird or creature that bothered crossing his path. It seemed to be closer before stopping suddenly. He shook it off.

“I still remember the day I got ya. Some bloke had set up shop behind my show in South Africa during my first world tour. So he beckons me over, had a machete strapped to his side, and I was properly convinced that it’d spell me doom. Was gonna jet before I carked it, but then I saw you.”

A sad smile took residence on Hypno’s face, his eyes pointing ahead yet his gaze was far far away.

“You were so… small. Pretty sure they poached ya mum and took you when you were a wee thing out of pity.” Hypno began to fidget with his jacket buttons absentmindedly. “Said I could have ya for fifty bucks. And I said it was the deal of a lifetime.”

“I had just been in the market for a magical assistant, really. Rabbits and doves are classics, and I had plenty, but everybody needs a show stopper! And then you came into my life. Oh, Dougie, you lit up any room you entered.”

His mind wandered off to a better time, relaying events aloud as they passed through his thoughts. How Doug used to nibble on his suit in the early days, and then the days where the little hippo wouldn’t stop biting things, and Doug’s first on-stage performance when the tour made it to London. Then there was-

“I wanted to skip Australia. Aussies are terrifying, there’s spiders everywhere, and I’ve never been one for deserts. But you never would’ve seen it if we hadn’t gone.”

“There was a heatwave. Because of course God’s sandbox of forgotten nightmare creatures needed yet another thing to make it even more unpleasant.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, a cutting edge to his words as they lacerated his tongue.

“First performance of the night was going well enough. You did an excellent job, by the way, my little biscuit.” Hypno pulled a poppy from his pocket and placed it beside Doug’s final resting spot; flowers for his star performer. “But things broke down as the show wore on. One moment it’s all fine and then…”

“You fainted. At least we all thought it was just that ‘til some lass checked your pulse. There… there weren’t any vets that could take you in Queensland. The closest was in New Zealand… Gisborne… home…” Hypno drummed his fingers on his lap, stuck in the moment.

“Doubt I’ll ever forget the wait. Fifteen hours you were in there, fighting for your life. Had a whole team on standby for ya. Got asked plen’y of questions. Really couldn’t answer ‘em all too well. Was wrecked with worry about ya. They said you had a valve replaced, that you needed medicine the insurance miraculously covered. Some real magic right here, I’ll tell ya what.”

He shook off the memory of Doug’s obscenely high medical bills that the vet had since forgiven. Even if he had to pay that amount in full it would’ve been worth it. Anything for his little pumpkin.

“Still remember the evening I brought you back from the emergency vet. Mum set up a pool in the backyard for you to swim in. Told her you were gonna be resting for a while and couldn’t get your stitches wet. She still insisted I sit with ya out back. And I did.”

Hypno smiled, a pained little thing, not quite going up all the way in the corners.

“You woke up around midnight. The sky was clear, lovely night really. A proper tapestry of diamonds up there.” The magician thought back on the moment, Doug’s head in his lap as he stroked the young hippo’s back. It felt as awe inspiring as it did peaceful. To observe the universe with such gingerness.

“And as gorgeous as the sky was, the stars were twice as beautiful reflected in your eyes.”

He wiped tears off his cheeks as his ears flicked up. There’d been more rustling behind him followed by the sound of something large sliding against tree bark.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re haunting me.” A dry laugh freed itself from his parted lips. “The only ghost I’d welcome, really.”

The tree-line had gone back to its usual quiet self, aside from the birds that lived atop the oaks and weeping willows. Hypno spent a moment waiting to hear any other shift of movement. Nothing.

“Wouldn’t be the only way you haunt me.”

Hypno paused a moment before continuing, a part of him still hoping for more ‘signs’. Anything to prove that he weren’t alone. Still nothing.

“There are days where I hated lookin’ in the mirror. Couldn’t really come to terms with,” he said, gesturing to his face, “this whole situation. But it’s not much of a curse now, innit? ‘Cause, in a way, it’s almost like I’ve still got you. An’ life’s better when I’m carrying you with me everywhere.”

Tears fell but Hypno didn’t move his hand to wipe them away, letting them fall to salt the earth below. He gave the grave before him a once over, the magical bouquet of flowers placed upon it wilting ever so slightly. He sighed.

“I hope you can hear me, Douglas. Wherever you happen to be. And I hope, god I hope, it’s better than here. Because you deserve it. You’ve always deserved better.”

Hypno brushed himself off as he got up from the bench, trying his hardest to ignore the ache in his chest that always came with these visits. There’d be comfort waiting for him at home, in the warm spring breeze, in the fact that life goes on.

And he took solace in it all as he walked off toward the subway, sliding by crowds of people that barely took notice of him, wiping his eyes on his handkerchief as he took a seat on the train back home. He could cry again next time. It was only a week away. ***

Behind a mighty oak tree in Greenwood Cemetery sat a stunned hippo man, trying and failing to stop his emotions from getting the better of him. It was going less than well.

“Agent Deacon? Come in, Agent Deacon.”

Agent Doug Deacon scrambled for his communicator, mildly composing himself in time to answer his superior.

“Coming in, Agent Bishop.” His voice cracked slightly, he hoped Bishop wouldn’t pick up on that.

“You said you had eyes on the target. Where is he?”

Oh. Oh no.

Deacon peeked from his spot, his target long gone. The agony of the past being relayed in fine detail was tied with the pain of disappointing Bishop. He wasn’t gonna be allowed out of the Hidden City for a while for cocking this up…

“He has exited the cemetery, sir, but I am following him.”

“Good.”

And the communicator went silent.

Deacon shook his head and cursed under his breath as he ran, sticking from shadow to shadow. He wouldn’t mess this up. Couldn’t mess up. No, he’d prove himself worthy of his title of ‘agent’. He’d make Bishop proud.

Who else was there to be proud of him anymore anyway?

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dramaticpeony · 11 months

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I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.

C.S. Lewis

David is thorny at the beginning. And I like the idea that he knows that. That he realizes, in the months that follow his father's death, that his grief has made him unnecessarily cruel. Especially towards people he loves. People like Asher. People like Milo. People like Marie and the Talbots and Gregory.

And it's annoying because he can't stop it. Whereas before he was too grief striken to to notice, now he has enough perspective to see that the way he talks to people has changed.

[Is it because he is the Alpha?]

And he knows that it hinders his ability to lead, because he may not have experience as an alpha, but he has seen how others were around his father. They were open, and honest and willing to be vulnerable.

And when he enters a room everyone tenses up. There must be things he is missing because his own pack members won't open up to him. Because he cannot just stop being so guarded and prickly.

He must've met angel at that sweetspot of his journey through grief. Where the hurt is still there,but has become more habitual and there is willingness to try living again.

Angel doesn't care much for his thorns. Which is good, because he cannot bring himself to trim them yet.

And they don't expect things of him: like leadership or guidance.

He's a hot dude, and his foul mood just makes him funny. Not uncomfortable to be around. Not an authority to suck up to or second guess.

And that's refreshing. That's new.

Here is something that the calamity hasn't touched. Here is something outside of it, or maybe it is the eye of the storm.

But of course that would be too simple.

Because they get closer. And he craves their presence but he still is David. He still says things in a somewhat cruel way sometimes. He doesn't say sweet things without prodding.

And it all comes to head when his own mate, in their own home, says that they didn't tell him about their pet cat for fear of upseting him.

And that just gives him pause for a while. Because it confirms what he already suspected; his loved ones wouldn't seek him out if they needed his help.

That's a failure, as an Alpha, as a mate, as a friend.

I think he spirals for a while. Old insecurities rise to the surface. He is a man of few words which means, of course that he is listened to when he speaks only the bare essentials. But it also means that he cannot (or has lost the ability to) express more complicated feelings that would require lengthy and heartfelt sentences.

So when his mate admits to being scared of storms, and he tries and succeeds to calm them, it's a paradigm shift. He can say things how he feels them now. Without being too mean.

He has less thorns on him and the ones left are dulled.

The rest follows. Milo talks to him about the bullying. He catches up with Tank. He invites Asher for Halloween. And yes, his handelling of things isn't always perfect ,but he is handling them. In more words than he used to. With more of himself than he used to give.

And the pack senses that.

It's like the final piece of the puzzle that would solidify his footing as Alpha.

Better yet; his progress is not lost after the inversion. He can still open up when he needs to or wants to. Like with the anniversary of Gabes death in the hoody thief video.

I know it's been said before but he's come so far from the frustating guy we meet in the first couple of videos.

I love him so much!!!

#He makes me feel so much!!!!!!!#my beloved beautiful man💖💓💓💗💗#are we surprised that I am gushing over him?#no we are not‼️#i just love him a lot ok????#redacted asmr david #redacted asmr #redacted davey #redacted david #tw grief

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